#But one day you wake up and notice life feels more authentic. You feel like your values matter (and they actually do!)

[gxlden-angels]

do you have any thoughts on the story of abraham and isaac? my parents talk about it and praise abraham for being willing to kill his son which..... scares me to say the least, and i'd love to hear your perspective as someone who seems more well-adjusted

Where I am now, it disgusts me more than anything. The interpretation of "I'm willing to sacrifice your life if I was told to" feels like the step before "I put you into this world and I can take you out of it." It's entitlement to a child, who is an independent individual, just because they are dependent on you for survival. I prefer the interpretation of understanding the actions you're taking and the reasons why (like how there's multiple religions that don't eat pork because it was so unsafe to eat at the time), especially if it's at someone else's expense.

Where I was in the thick of it all, it gave me morbid comfort that scares me now. I had fantasies of being a martyr for the church and the idea of being the next Isaac was just so appealing. Being a hand-selected sacrifice chosen by the Good Lord Himself? Sign me the fuck up, babey!

I think if I admitted that to my family, they'd be horrified.

It's another one of those stories or beliefs where I think the majority of christians just regurgitate what they've heard. It's a point of pride and devotion, but there's no personal reflection or cross-cultural awareness of it. Lean not unto your own understanding and whatnot. It's the potential that scares me the most, like the Quiverfull movement with the Duggars or Turpins. I'm sure there's stories now, but I can't remember them off the top of my head

(Also I will be telling my therapist someone on Tumblr called me "more well-adjusted" thank you anon)

[anantaru]

𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄

a delusion is said to drain their holders life force so when childe noticed that his time might be over soon, he decided to visit you this one last time.

୨୧ WORD COUNT: 4.5k

୨୧ WARNINGS: angst, fem! reader, mentions of death/afterlife, character death, n.sfw, unprotected, c inside, crying, true love.

love, an intense feeling of deep affection towards another individual.

now, with that in mind, what was love to ajax? the thought whirling through his head. Was it perhaps, waking up to the delicious aroma of freshly made pancakes in the morning? or what about the scent of cold rain on a charming summer night in inazuma?

when he was a small boy, ajax was frightened and unsure of himself, yet regardless of his timid nature, he always had dreamed of becoming a renowned adventurer in his hometown, someone who'd go on dangerous trials, travel the world and experience deeds with both his body and soul.

didn't it seem like such an impossible fairytale he would picture himself in? indeed it did to a certain extent, he was nothing but a child with a fleeting dream after all. However, when he was older, it had taken a new meaning to him.

it was the blood thirst that had caught his eye, thriving at the sensation of experiencing both life and death, lusting for dangerous situations only combat could get him out of alive, the thin thread of life sliding past his hands, just enough for him to catch.

the color red meant blood, sweat and tears, while scars were the trophies of the strong, last but not least, danger the way to his numb heart.

unpredictable as he was, in the end he had captured your heart with his authentic hidden self. He could still remember the first time he had seen you walk around morepesok, a small sea side village his family resided in. His heart was leaping in his throat, mouth bone dry and the cold air swirling together with ice and roaming over his warm rosy cheeks.

he could swear you were looking at him, to this day he’d hold onto that fact because how could you not? he was a harbinger after all so why did it seem like you didn't even notice him at first. It was infuriating, more so frustrating. Nonetheless he was going to go through with it, it was only natural for him to approach you, eyes journeying over your figure, determination in his hands.

as far as he was concerned, you were probably just taken aback by the frostiness of the weather, too caught up in keeping yourself warm instead of noticing him across the street. Archons, that's probably the reason why you were so hesitant to talk to him in the beginning, childe tossing all logically accurate answers aside.

sure, because of his pride and prowess, all tasks that he had to accomplish for the fatui were finished with outstanding accomplishments, vowing to never abandon his goals. Highlighting that in any other case he'd find himself a little more focused on capturing his objective, which was you, standing tall like the leader he was.

needless to say, he had used those traits in conversations as well, making him an exceptional charismatic person to be around with. You obviously won't lie to yourself, it was intimidating to talk to someone who held the title of a harbinger, but for some reason ajax was different from the stories you had heard of him.

outspoken as he was, the deep care and affection he held towards his family made your heart bloom, tickling your cheeks with warmth as your gaze locked into his. Trying to look over everything at once, you wondered, where his eyes always that blue? like the ocean with the stormy waves whispering to you.

you remembered his first smile to you, remembering it crystal clear, a simple smile and you were for certain that he was in fact, gentle, kind and had ambitions he deemed worthy to pursue and chase after. Intriguing your curiosity you continued to hold the conversation, noting on how good he smelled, even better than you had expected.

or what about the first night you have spent together? of course, you clearly had it engraved in your memory, being certain that you won't be able to forget about it in a lifetime, holding the mental pictures close to you.

it felt surreal, so passionate that afterwards you kept spending glorious days with each other, illustrious nights full of laughter and emotional connections.

it's been no more than three wonderful years you shared with each other, two very warm hands by your side to catch you whenever you needed it, to hold you when you craved it, to love you for eternity.

destiny has touched your souls and ajax was your soulmate.

this special love couldn‘t be undone, there wasn't a possible outcome in your constellations that would get you separated by will.

childe would keep his work off limits whenever you were together, never entertaining your questions about it, brushing it off and refusing to play into your hands. If it were safe, ajax wouldn't dream of hiding such important matters from you, in his eyes a relationship with secrets wasn't something he normally wanted to pursue.

however, by the looks of how the current events were unfolding, he simply refused to share any confidential secrets with you, being grateful that you quietly accepted his reasoning.

out on the field, where a huge part of his work took place, death had been permanent, unable to be prevented. You bite the bullet and that’s it, you're gone. If they got you, they got you and in his eyes, the best way to go down fighting is to fight for what you deem worthy and for what you stood for, dying with your dignity in your hand.

needless to say, it made your stomach burn, ache and hurt with your chest on fire. Of course you were worried, how could you not? he was your boyfriend and even though you weren't familiar with what the fatui were doing behind the scenes, you sure weren't stupid, noticing how much he suffered, how the pain had taken over his body.

the search in on his face was silent when you perceived his normally orange colored hair tips on his head, now fading grey. His tired eyes as they laid half opened, exhausted, the usual glimmer around the irises gone, missing the glow you fell in love with ever since he first approached you. It long vanished into nothingness, darkness and despair.

you swallowed the developing lump in your throat when suddenly, on a silent freezing night in snezhnaya, you opened the front door of your home to your boyfriend leaning against the doorframe, his facial expression reminding you of nothing but the cold.

"ajax, what are you doing here this late at night? are you okay?"

of all the times he had visited you, something tonight felt off, more so did it leave a bad taste on your tongue with you being unable to decipher it or get behind on why you were having this unfamiliar uncomfortable knot deep inside your gut.

"i'm sorry love, did i wake you?"

there it was, his smooth voice that made you weak on your knees, together with a light smile lurking across his features. If only that were enough to distract from his hand which was pressed against his ribs, shivering in its antics.

"ajax, what happened?"

your stomach churned and you felt sick, there were so many horrible ideas etched into your memories with what could've possibly happened to him. You knew your boyfriend, he wasn't easily defeated, the fear he could inflict on the battlefield made him worthy to be the cryo archons vanguard after all.

your body went taut upon reaching over to his shuddering hand, a red glow splotched around his knuckles. it was blood, his blood? or was it the enemies blood? "this isn't mine, don't worry about it, okay?" there were no shadows nor depth in his once enthusiastic eyes, it seemed terrible simply because of it's emptiness.

"lets get you inside, i'll clean you up." burrowing in, you got a hold of childe's free hand to loop it over your shoulders, helping him stumble into your warm home. An uneasy feeling ate a hole into your stomach, the gleam of your bedroom shining in the dimly lid hallway when you reached it, pushing your palm against the wooden door to make it easier for the both of you to walk in.

at first, you were almost completely sure that he had let his brawling confidence put a haze around his rational thinking, being slightly annoyed that childe wouldn't take better care of himself. His blurry vision moved from the carpet to your eyes, shifting in his footing when you plopped him down on your bed, a shaky sigh bubbling away his throat.

this is what he wanted, you reminded yourself, not knowing that ajax valued your life much more than his own. The fear in your heart grew, weighting the terror against you and your soul tumbling down on it.

It’s no good, it was no good, but childe was aware that he couldn't cheat death as well as time and space, well and fate, which was written and set in stone in his constellations. "hey now." the air in his lungs seem to hold him down, a slow, languid smile crossing the corners of his lips, "don't look at me like that."

"like what?" you blurted out and rolled your eyes, ajax laughed to cover a deep cough that was just about to leave him when he reached his hand out to you, making you straddle him. "like i'm about to die."

you shuddered, not only at his words, but at the mere thought of a life without him, without your boyfriend and soulmate, best friend and lover. You placed your palms on his cheeks, the skin under your fingers being slightly rough but gradually warming up from your familiar touch.

"don't say that."

as it was, those words seem to hold no reaction to him, his arms holding you close to his body, fingers brushing across your stomach. "i want you to know that when i'm gone, you will be taken care of. You have my word." a beat, growing faster in his heart, grasping and aching onto his soul when he noticed the sudden welling tears appear in your eyes, harsh and bitter sweet, running down your cheeks.

ajax absolutely despised making you cry, viewing it as a sin that had to be punished. He felt trapped, like an actual suffocating feeling unable to escape.

"don't cry please, not now."

there was something he didn't tell you, off and away, something he couldn't bring himself to voice to you while listening to the sound of your breathing. Ajax heaved a shaky sigh, forcing himself to smile and rest his forehead against your own. It hurt so much, his heart was screaming, he wanted to let go and cry, for once, he wanted to drop his facade and yell into the void until his lungs gave out on him.

his teeth were gritted, feeling how his body ached and tore itself apart from the inside, bracing his hands on your garments to pull you closer to his chest, to share your body warmth because maybe that will calm him down, maybe that will take his mind off the inevitable.

it was embarrassing, really. Tartaglia, the eleventh fatui harbinger being scared to die, to vanish and turn into dust. He thought he heard voices, words that asked him, 'does heaven even exist?' and if it does, was it really as beautiful as people made it out to be? Or was it from the start, only a social construct to give people false hope, to ease their mind and prepare them for death, for disappearing forever.

tiredness crept into his bones, washing the fear from his mind and now the world wasn't so much tilting as it was in slow motion with you in front of him, holding him and caressing his figure. Without thinking, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck, drawing you to his lips, his softness covering yours in a firm embrace.

you returned his call, as if the world stood still for a mere second, a tiny moment when you talked without words, exchanging reassurances without saying anything and taking care of each other in ways you were so very much familiar with. The kiss melted into something else, it grew and yearned for love.

"wait ajax, i should check up your wounds first." in a desperate attempt, you hoped he understood your mumbling against his plump lips, you drew your breath back, holding it in when you brushed the residue of your tears away. Preparing to get up he held you down with his arms, forcing himself to laugh a little.

"i'm fine i promise, the blood on my jacket isn't mine." low and quiet, his voice showed itself to you, so kind, as he turned his attention back to you without waiting for an answer. "promise me you‘ll take better care of yourself in the future." you lectured him, the space on your bed remaining empty before he beckoned you to properly lay down with him, you following suit.

"i promise."

for childe, it felt like a door deep inside of him shutting down, locking out his worries so he could enjoy and indulge in this moment with you, cherishing every last touch on his body. Now, the both of you were a tangle of arms and legs crossed together and melting your lips in one, childe added his tongue to map you out and engrave your taste beyond death.

your clothes collided with each move as you helped each other get out of the annoying garments that kept hiding your skin. First, his jacket had to go, drawing it down his arms before getting rid of his shirt as well, eyeing the tiny splotches of blood on the material and making a mental note to wash it for him later.

childe‘s fingers unzipped your dress, lazily throwing it on the floor with the current scene being over in a few flimsy seconds before you found yourself bare for each other, fondling with your bodies but keeping it light, almost as if you were made out of glass, threatening to break into a million pieces beyond repair.

"you're everything to me, i want you to know that." the heated whisper vibrated over your body when you pulled yourself on top of him, placing each arm next to his head to place yet another kiss on his sweet lips. "since when are you so poetic, mister harbinger?" your spirit alone made him laugh, raising his brow at your words.

"that's a new nickname, do you have another one?" he gathered you in his arms, rubbing soft circles and lines on your back and slightly dragging your hips against his erect member. "I have quite a lot, you know that." biting back as always, you returned with sassiness, being aware that he couldn't get enough of you.

belonging to someone, having a person wait for you at home was something childe never knew he needed, nor deserved. Before anything, he occasionally thought he was dreaming and hallucinating, how did he possibly get so lucky with you? his mind swirling with afterthoughts.

"remember all those promises we made?" his question came sudden, but you didn't mind, tilting your head a little before brushing your thumb over his lips, "of course, you said you're going to show me inazuma." trailing his eyes like a loosened shadow over your features, he hummed, flickering his lashes back to you.

"please give me your word that you'll keep this promise to me." the tendrils of his breath on you made your skin tighten, shiver under his fingertips as you closed the distance, planting a tiny smooch on him, "of course silly, Inazuma is ours to explore." eyeing him with cheerfulness and joy, you patted his head, his face glowing in the dimly lid room, taking your attention.

everything was silent now, blue eyes focused when he traveled his hands down to where your bodies met, helping you rise yourself up before aligning his erect cock with your hole, slightly repositioning himself in a better angle when he grounded you down, leaning his head back to savor how your walls fit around him.

with that, ajax didn't allow you any chance to move nor adjust yourself when he tackled all the sweet little places with his stiff length, rubbing your walls expertly. The sensation of wanting to have him closer to you tormented your mind, sensually working your hips on him when you engaged him in another sloppy make out session.

a trace of sweat embedded his strong chest, dancing over his aching muscles as he began to rut himself into you, meeting your tempo halfway and complimenting your rhythm. "i love you." he muttered automatically, his orange hair strands hiding his features as you brushed them off his face, tenderly kissing his temple, his nose and his cheeks, haltering right above his lips, "i love you too, ajax."

you could barely move an inch before his hands rocked you back and forth, a smile of satisfaction crossing his lips and turning him in a haze of passion, breathing in languid strokes. Your tiny whimpers and moans were music to his ears, your hips rolling on his heavy cock and feeling you clench down on him ever so often, both gasping and filling the room with pure sin.

his eyes watched your every reaction carefully, feasting on your body working wonders on him. Childe adored how extremely reactive you were to everything, whining and sobbing uncontrollably whenever he'd push his hips up abruptly without a single warning beforehand. You hovered over him yet he was the one in control, he held the authority and knew how to make you scream his name.

his jaw gaped open when his breath hitched, getting stuck in his throat, seeing you unravel on him. Leaving his hands right above your bouncing breasts he squeezed down and kneaded the warm flesh, rubbing his thumb over your erect nipples. You looked just as desperate as he did, fucked out and possessed by lust, quivering and wording all those filthy sounds to him.

"come on, give me more, i need more." taunting you, he continued to wreck havoc through your body, drilling his cock into you as you leaned forward, planting your hands on his chest before riding out the ache in your core. "it’s too much ajax." you soothed him with attention he yearned for, your walls suckling on his throbbing erection and keeping him there.

one of his hands wiggled away from your breasts, branding it right above your stomach so his thumb would have the best access to your clit, teasing your tiny bundles before sinking down into the flesh with you being unable to describe the intense bliss you were experiencing right now.

the tension in you turned your vision white and blurry, lowering yourself once more to kiss him starvingly, you wanted to touch him further, mark him up and leave pretty bites on his muscular body. His darkened eyes met your lidded ones, grinding back and forth his length and prolonging your limits a tenfold. Almost painfully, you felt the little twist in your stomach unravel, preparing to snap open.

"i fucking love you so much." a faint tremor overtook him, hiding a tear. Thankfully, the strength of his arms never left you and gained control over the situation when you became more than spent, body sore and aching, not to mention how your irritated cunt was sobbing uncontrollably, fluttering around his girth and drenching his balls.

looking right back at him, you hissed when he practically used you as his own personal cock sleeve with every inch of your body losing on control, clenching down on him. "I love you more ajax, i love you so much." you trapped your bottom lip in between your sharp teeth, drawing out your moans in harsh pants when the bond in your stomach broke, calloused hands prancing you up and kneading your tender flesh when he suddenly forced you down, stilling his tempo completely.

his attractive grunts filled the room, followed by a cry of your pleas when you noticed how his cock prodded on a shivering spot repeatedly, being the turning point when you released on him, a blissful expression plastered on your fucked out face when you dropped your body on his chest, hiding your head in his neck.

ajax Inhaled sharply, your drenched cunt convulsing and squeezing him dry when he poured himself in you, a hidden groan drawn out of his chest. You whined at the feeling of his warm cum smearing your velvety walls, overflowing and dripping down on both of your thighs and sheets. Your tear stained eyes and whimpering voice was a nice addition to his afterglow, being so fucking grateful to you it ripped him to shreds.

a self satisfied hum left him and in truth, childe couldn't be happier, he wanted, no, he needed to experience this just this one last time before it was too late. The stickiness of your fluids sputtered all over the bed when you got up, plopping right next to his aching body.

you adjusted yourself, his rough pants surging a small inch of pride in you. "I haven't seen you this out of breath in a while." you teased, catching and securing him in your arms, pushing him against your chest. Childe embraced you back, "hey, careful now, you're being too confident in your speech." rolling your eyes back at his sassy response you kissed his head, nudging yourself close to him.

"i want to stay like this forever." he winded himself not to return an answer to you, brushing his fingers on your exposed damp back to get you sleepy.

"when we're in inazuma, I want to draw a fortune slip." your giggle was infectious, soothing his rough skin with your sensual hands. "and we need to go to the publishing house too." your gaze was into the far distance of your thoughts, unseeing but fixed on the imaginary future you had drawn in your memories.

"we'll do whatever you want to do." a surge of reality coursed through his veins, squinting his eyes to near black, mouthing the rest of the words silently without you being capable to see them.

three words, eight letters, with his fear becoming more tangible, a living force creeping over him like a hungry beast that was unable to be satiated. Immobilizing his thoughts.

by the time you calmed your breathing, you fell in a deep slumber with him gathered in your arms. Without your knowing, childe was still very much wide awake, his muscles pulling and straining without a conscious effort on his part, beginning to carefully slip out of your comfortable hold.

before anything, he grabbed his underwear to put it back on together with a comfortable jacket he had left at your place a while ago, holding onto the bed frame to get up and walk towards the balcony, opening the door. The fresh cold breeze made it much easier for him, a sense of nostalgia roaming in his veins, snow exhilarating the slow change in the air around him as he tensed.

everything was planned from the start, it was the only way it all made sense to him and even though it wasn‘t supposed to go this way, dying shouldn't feel this good, but it somehow still did.

in the beginning, he knew that the delusion would one day cause his death, would drain the energy out of him until his body started to dissolve from the inside. He had to admit to himself that utilizing the remains of deceased gods and other powerful beings was not passed on without punishment, being a mere human only fed into said factor.

delusions were the key to victory, to succes yet the side effects were potentially equally dangerous to the individuals who dared to use them on themselves to enhance their strength.

adrenaline, endorphines, all of it dashed into his veins as he stepped outside, letting the freezing air of snezhnaya eliminate his body heat, drying the sweat on his skin. Ajax wondered if you could bear to never see him again, if he indeed made the right decision to simply not tell you and enjoy the last moment together.

the other day he dedicated his entire time to see that you and his family would be well of, being deeply engaged in a conversation with the ninth harbinger who was responsible for the mora in his nation.

even though he never trusted any of his co-workers, he was confident that pantalone was going to value the pact he made with him. The regrator had a unique understanding of wealth and would always harbor and respect his agenda, giving ajax his word.

how strange, his eyes covered in tears, shining like blue diamonds. In the end, his decision was faster and quieter, more so easier than it probably would've been. There was no point in regretting his way now, unexpectedly coughing up and covering his mouth with his palm, turning it around to see a puddle of blood plastered on his shaking hand.

dying, without a cure, alone, his lifeless eyes rose up to watch the bed of stars fade and shine on the sky. The people of teyvat were fond of the celestial bodies and called them the gifts of heaven. Because in the eyes of the beholder, something so divine could never be seen as fake, unreal and a blatant lie.

with that, childe couldn't suppress a laugh this time, rubbing his eyes. He sniffled quietly to himself, the captured tears in him threatening to break free when they ultimately heavily coursed down his tired face.

he couldn’t hold the fear no longer and fell to the floor in a disheveled heap as his grief poured out in a flood of uncontrollable sobs.

the tragedy he found himself in would surely turn into a myth, a poem or whatever a bard would come up with and in the myst of the darkness it would form into a reminder on how cruel true love could end in this world, something you could normally only find in a tragic novel from inazuma.

with that, upon his last breaths, ajax couldn’t hold the torment no longer, falling on his knees to the ground in a disheveled heap as his pain poured out in a flood of uncontrollable tears, gut wrenching sobs wrecking his body.

regardless of the overflow in emotions he witnessed, his life came to an end and when he was to die, he wanted it to be on his own terms and conditions, attempting to control death in his own twisted way, bleeding out the salt of his soul.

he appeared in front of the gates of heaven to approach his end, his chin trembling, the last torrent surges of energy faded away when he closed his eyes, a last tear dropping and magically turning to ice, finalizing the death of the man who was formerly known as the eleventh harbinger, vanguard of the tsaritsa. Or how you remembered him, as ajax, the love of your life,

the person you called your soulmate.

do not! share, copy or repost my work. ✎ ©ANANTARU 2022

[alexsoenomel]

Feelin’ Baby Blue (Dean Winchester x Reader smut/fluff)

Requests: can you write a story where dean is just like touch starved and wants to cuddle so he doesn’t have nightmares while he sleeps.

Could you write a story where dean just needs a little comfort? like he’s had a rough day or is just feeling off and wants to be held and feel safe in the readers arms

Summary: Dean set you free by accident, not knowing you can feel the pain he was in and not knowing you’re able to give him what he secretly craved.

Pairing: Dean x Genie!Reader 

Warnings:  18+ MINORS DNI, Reader is a virgin, Dean is broken and pathetic, sweet love making, and Big O’s

Word count: 3.8k

Note: I added a little bit of fluffy smut because I’m a pathetic horny bitch and Dean deserves to get laid.

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)  

Wake up. Go to work. Collapse on the coach. Wake up. Make lunch for tomorrow. Shower. Sleep.

Over and over again.

Every day. The concept of time didn't exist, only work and work alone. You didn't know who you were, your true authentic self was buried deep in you, along with your dreams and goals. In this world dreams and goals were considered unnecessary, plus you didn't even know what your dreams and goals were. You were only aware of one thing and one thing only – you had to work in order to survive. This job was your bread and butter, financial issues disappeared but you could still feel the world crashing around you. Your life became only your 9 till 5. You had no one, with family scattered around the country, and friends being in different stages of life, you were left to only interact with people in your dull office job which made you hate this life even more. Empty conversations, small talk, gossip…

You didn't even remember the last time you genuinely laughed while talking to someone. Once you entered this machine, this cursed cycle called the capitalistic society, your life lost all meaning.

It was the same day over and over again.

****

North Platte, Nebraska

Sam and Dean just killed a nasty witch. She had been cursing family homes all over Nebraska, making family members eventually kill each other in fits of rage and insanity – reasons unknown. She was an old one – old as time. Her house was filled with endless shelves of books of ancient dark magic, ancient artifacts chattered all over, herbs, talismans – whatever a witch’s heart desired, she had it.

"Poor guy!" Dean said, looking at the white rabbit lying on the coffee table. His eyes were closed, his little body completely relaxed and spread out – it looked dead. "That bitch was creepy as hell!" He added. Dean was never fond of witches.

"I still don't understand why she was killing all those families!" Sam wondered, looking around her messy living room.

"Beats me!" The older Winchester shrugged his shoulders and put the gun with witch-killing bullets back in his jeans.

He was just about to tell Sam that it was time to go since the place was giving him the heebie-jeebies when he saw something that piqued his interest on one of the bookshelves.

"Sam, look!" His fingers were gently holding a medium-sized bottle filled with floating whiteish, blueish puffs. He was smiling like he just found his favorite childhood toy.

"Are those clouds?" Sam asked, trying to see what was inside the bottles. Nothing apart from "clouds" his eyes registered.

Dean, being Dean (childish and chaotic at times), started shaking the bottle, hoping something would happen. It didn't. The "clouds" were just floating in the bottle as he was shaking it.

"Dean, put it back where you found it, and let's get the hell out of here!" Sam told him.

"Fine."

As he was about to put it back on the shelf, a light bang echoed through the living room causing both Winchesters to turn around with their guns ready to kill whatever made the sound. Dean didn't even notice that he dropped the bottle, shattering it completely. The clouds were floating right behind them as they put their guns away realizing it was just the rabbit that Dean thought was dead on the coffee table. It jumped on the wooden floor knocking a little stone in the process. It just stood there looking at them.

"He ain't dead!" Dean's eyes widened in surprise. He couldn't help but smile – he'd always feel sad for the poor animals that were used for witchcraft.

Instinctively, both brothers then glanced at the dead witch lying a few inches away from them. She was still dead as a doornail. Good.

The rabbit sniffed the witch's face before urinating all over it. Both brothers chuckled. Even better.

In the meantime, the cloud behind them started growing bigger and bigger. It reached Sam's height and exploded as both brothers were hit with a force so strong it knocked them to the floor. Dean hit his cheek, and Sam his nose, causing a few drops of blood to appear seconds later.

"What the –" Dean said and looked behind him.

Sam did the same as he whipped the blood coming from his nose. "Holy crap!"

****

Five minutes before.

As you were about to answer your next call, bored out of your mind, staring at your computer screen and seeing the calls pile up, you noticed something unusual. Your colleague Dave was in the middle of a conversation and yet you couldn’t hear him behind his computer anymore – which was unusual considering he was the loudest one in the office. The telephones around you stopped ringing– all of them. You looked through the window and saw the rain that was pouring outside just seconds ago, frozen in the air. You turned around and there she was; Karen stiff as a statue, mouth open, holding a chocolate bar inches away from her face.

"What the–"

***

You woke up. Finally, you woke up. The hell was finally over. You were finally free.

Right in front of you was a sight to see– two gorgeous-looking men staring back at you. One of them seemed more broken than the other. They seemed puzzled.

“How did you free me?” You asked, looking down at your body, seeing you weren’t in your business attire anymore. Instead, you were wearing your baby blue summer dress again. You missed that dress – haven’t worn it in 5 years.

“Free you? Who are you?” The shorter one asked. His hand then went behind his back…he had a gun.

“That gun is useless on me.” You said and glanced at the taller one who also tried the same. You tilted your head to the right, squinting your eyes, looking at the taller one…the name immediately pooped in your head. “You’re Sam.” And a few seconds later the shorter one had a name too. “Dean.” You said looking at him. “Sam and Dean Winchester.”

Both brothers stared at you before Dean finally asked: “Who are you?” His voice was deep, sharp, and kind of intimidating.

“Call me G,” you said.

“How do you know who we are?” Sam asked. “Are you even human?”

“I know the people who summon me. In this case, you didn’t exactly summon me, you freed me.” You explained, “I’m a Genie.”

“A Djinn?” Dean asked in confusion and partial disgust. By the sound of his voice you could tell he wasn’t a fan of actual Djinns. You weren’t either. They were far more chaotic and evil and somehow humans would always mix you with them.

This man is wearing a mask, even his younger brother cannot see. His soul is aching.

“You humans always put me in the same basket as them. No, I’m not a Djinn.”

“Explain!” Dean demanded.

“Who else is a genie and wears blue…or rather is blue?”

Sam's eyes immediately widened as he connected the dots. “The Genie?”

“Bingo!”

Dean then connected the rest. “Like The Genie from Aladdin?”

“Something like that.” Your mouth smiled for the first time in so long it almost felt unnatural.

“I need a drink!” Dean said looking at his younger brother who just stared back at him, not knowing what to say.

“Oh, the bitch has a fine whiskey collection in the cabinet behind you, take your pick and I can explain everything.”  

“Don’t mind if I do!”

“Pour me a double Dean!”

“Roger that!”

After both brothers were intoxicated enough you started talking. You were born in 1992 when the original Aladdin came out. It was an absolute hit all over the world, children loved it, young adults and parents loved it. Genie became a star and that was how you were born. Children especially, desperately wanted their favorite character to be real and to grant them those three wishes and voila…

You didn’t remember much from your birth. You just knew one day you became sentient, real and aware of your purpose – making humans smile. From that day forward you were traveling all over the world and granting wishes – healing the inner child of each broken adult who would summon you and making the world a better place. It wasn’t until the witch found you and bound you to be her slave and used your magic whenever she pleased. The thing that separated you from the real cartoon Genie was – you could grant as many wishes as once heart desired. She used you for revenge, hatred and to satisfy her undying greed for riches – everything you didn't stand for. You were more than glad that she was dead.

“So wait, you’re actually a tulpa?” Sam asked. You were surprised by his logical thinking.

“You can say that.” You confirmed.

Dean took the last sip of whiskey not really knowing how to feel about all of this. Tulpas were a familiar concept for him for sure, but a tulpa of a fuckin’ cartoon character not so much. One thing puzzled him though…

“Isn’t Genie supposed to be a blue man with a ponytail?” He finally spoke.

“Kids didn’t imagine me to be a blue man with a ponytail.” You said, feeling how tired he was. No sleep could subside that.

Sam was hanging by the thread of sanity and good mental health, while his older brother had waves of sorrow and pain crashing into him every second of the day. He was craving something so desperately he was embarrassed of it.

Dean’s lips formed a small O. “Oh, okay.”

“How do people, or kids, summon you?” Sam asked. Real world was a bit different than the cartoon. The part where you live in a lamp at least.

"You just have to rub the lamp the right way" Dean was just waiting for the moment to make this reference since he was secretly a big Christina Aguilera fan. You chuckled, remembering the first time you heard that song in a bar of all places. Sam just looked at Dean like he was about to punch him. Dean grinned.

“That’s gross, Dean.”

“You just have to think of me long and hard before you go to sleep and I’ll pay you a visit.” You finally explained, eyes fixed on Dean. You knew what he craved, you could see right through him, even though he tried to hide it by avoiding your gaze.

“What are you going to do now?” Dean asked you, still avoiding meeting your eyes. He was looking at the book shelf right behind you.

You smirked and stood up. “Might pay you a visit.” Was all you said before you disappeared, leaving both brothers perplexed and a little tipsy.

***

When Sam and Dean came back to the bunker, the younger brother decided it was time to rest while the older one was pondering over your last words.

“Might pay you a visit.”

He couldn’t help but remember your sharp and rather strange gaze. Something about it intimidated him – he felt naked whenever you would look at him. He was a closed forbidden book, only Sam could open it and yet in your presence he was completely exposed – or at least that was how he felt. The thought of you was consuming him slowly, in the shower, in the kitchen, before dinner, after dinner… When he finally went to bed he caved in, remembering your words.

“You just have to think of me long and hard before you go to sleep and I’ll pay you a visit.”

He was slowly drifting, his mind scattered and consumed with only your picture. As his eyes became heavy he heard a whisper – he knew he wasn’t dreaming yet.

“Dean!”

His head left the soft surface of his pillow as he opened his eyes only to see you standing next to his bed.

“G?” He whispered as his hand reached over and turned on the lamp on his night stand.

“I can feel it, y’ know” You said and sat on the edge of his bed. He sat up, back against the headboard.

“Feel what?” He asked even though something was already telling him the answer he thought he didn’t know.

“Your soul is aching, Dean. There’s not enough alcohol and meaningless night stands in this world to ease your pain. It’s too sharp, too deep. You broke my heart as soon as you set me free.”

You knew pain. You felt it all. In sick children, in traumatized adults – you knew every shape it would take, but Dean’s pain was impossible to feel. It was too much even for you.

“I didn’t realize you’re a shrink too.” The sass was evidently just a coping mechanism – one of the masks he would wear to survive this terrible life he was living.

You weren’t bothered by his words. You knew he would eventually say the forbidden words. Without warning you climbed into his bed and sat on his lap, both of your legs on his sides. You stared at him, fingers tracing along his cheeks, jaw, until you reached his perfectly full lips. He was beautiful – one of the most beautiful humans you have ever seen. His genetic blessings didn't outshine his blessings from within. His soul, even broken and in pain, was still full of love and compassion. It was such a beautiful mix of love and tragedy. Your face was inches away from his and as you got closer, the pain got sharper. You were ready to make him feel whole again, but he had to say the words.

“I know what you crave, Dean. I can feel it.”

“A sexy chick wearing a Zorro mask on top of me?” Still with the humor. You found it cute to an extent. Silly Dean.

“Meaningless sex won’t fix that, y’ know?”

“Yeah,” He finally gave up the shenanigans when he saw you weren’t buying the shit he was trying to sell. “I’ve learnt to live with it.”

You could feel his hot breath against your face as you got even closer. Dean’s eyes softened, jaw relaxed as he cupped your cheek. He only now noticed how beautiful and angelic you look, even under the light of his shitty lamp on the nightstand. Your soft skin under his fingertips felt a little too intimate for him, and yet he couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop.

“You don’t have to live with it though. I can make it go away, you just have to say the words.”

You cupped his hand with yours, his touch sending shivers all over your body. You really liked the sensation. You were craving more. His hand was hot, soft and human. No man nor woman has touched you like this.  

“You mean like, make a wish?” He was finally starting to get it.

“That’s how it goes, right?” You smiled.

“Christ.” – he muttered before swallowing nervously – “I wish I didn’t feel like this.”

“Like what? My magic cannot read minds. You have to be specific.”

He took a deep breath, feeling like he was about to embarrass himself. Verbalizing emotions wasn’t something he was comfortable with. “I wish the pain I feel didn’t exist,” He stated and the words just kept coming. “I wish I wasn't so... broken? I wish for more than just meaningless night stands.” He confessed before it hit him. “Wait, does this count as 3 wishes?”

“You can wish as many things as your heart desires, handsome. Now, close your eyes!”

Dean closed his beautiful green eyes as you went in for a kiss. It usually doesn't work like that. You weren't a crossroads demon. You would usually just snap your fingers and disappear right after. Your magic was powerful and yet simple. But this time it was different. This time a man with a broken soul asked to feel whole again, to feel again. He wanted more than meaningless transactional touches and kisses so you decided to give him what he wanted. You have never come across such a special soul like Dean Winchester. He was giving too much and yet the world was consumed by greed and constantly wanted more. His brother Sam was everything he had, his rock, his world and yet even he couldn't heal things inside of his older brother. Dean was tired of feeling like this.

The kiss was innocent and your first. You didn't exactly know what you were doing but you liked it. His lips were soft and lonely. He was hungry for a connection he didn't have. His body was desperate to be touched. His hand went in your hair as he slowly deepened the kiss, leaving you hot and panting. You have seen people kiss and sleep with each other. You were an avid watcher of rom coms – your favorite pastime whenever you would roam around the world, traveling and making people smile.

Even The Genie needed air, so when you couldn't breathe anymore you broke the kiss. Dean's eyes full of adoration refusing to stop looking at you. How strange how now he was ready to strip his soul and actually look at you.

Your fingers intertwined with his as you pushed them above his head, your face dangerously close to him. You wanted to kiss him again.

"Am I supposed to feel different now?"

"No, this isn't something I can fix with a simple kiss. Your soul is craving another soul and I intend to give you mine. Kiss me!"

Dean lifted his head from the pillow and kissed you again this time slipping his tongue right away in your mouth. His kisses were coded with mint and you liked the taste.

It felt like an instinct almost when your hips started moving, grinding against his dick – only your panties and his boxers separating you. He was already hard and desperate, moving up and down trying too hard to satisfy the need that was only growing stronger.

You have never surrendered yourself so freely, letting a human touch you, let alone kiss you like he did, but you have never had a man like Dean asking you to fix something within him that the world so joyfully broke.

His hands were roaming freely all over your body, studying the shapes along the material of your dress as your lips never left his, until he started kissing your jaw and neck, sending you into a blissful euphoria you never knew existed in the first place. You let out a sigh as your hands went into his hedgehog like hair.

"Love me, Dean!" You spoke between pathetic moans and sighs. "Love me and I'll be yours forever!"

He heard you but his lips were too busy getting drunk on your neck to say anything so he just took you by the waist with both hands and like you were nothing flipped you over.

His lips found yours again in a desperate sleepless hunger as your hand took his and guided him to your already wet underwear.

"Touch me! I'm yours!" You said, letting him know he could. It has been a long time for him and you could feel the nervousness pumping through his veins. As soon as his fingers touched the wet fabric of your panties, pushing it lightly against your wet cunt, you moaned.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" He asked, again showing you how beautiful and carrying he was.

You placed a kiss on his lips. "Yes, I am sure."

Your voice was sweet like honey and Dean was experiencing a sugar rush.

“Oh and you can leave my dress on. I can feel how much you like it.” You added and winked.

Dean didn’t quite understand what you meant by that so he asked.

“Can you read minds?”

You smiled. He was adorable. “Not exactly. I can feel it. Your desires, what troubles you – everything. It comes in waves.”

You didn’t let him say anything, instead you crashed your lips on his as your hands went underneath his shirt feeling his soft skin covered in scars. If only he knew his soul shared the same resemblance. Dean realized where your hands were and in a second got rid of the t-shirt.

“I want you!” You whispered into his ear.

He was hypnotized, not really aware of his surroundings, his hardships, his name. Only you existed in his brain, heart and soul.

He took off his boxers, and your panties moments later – leaving you only in your dress and pressed the tip of his dick against your entrance. Nose touching, eyes locked, feeling each other’s breaths on your faces he entered you slowly. It didn’t occur to you that it would hurt since it was your first time. You gasped at the new sensation.

“You’re so tight!” Dean whispered. “Jesus!”

“Move! Please!” You begged. He didn’t need to know. He was your first and only one. After this night your soul will be bound with his, forever.

He moved slowly first, letting you adjust and relax under him. Your fingers dug into his shoulder blades as soon as waves of pleasure started splashing you. The pain was gone and you were in pure bliss.

“God, you’re beautiful!” He told you, placing kisses along your jaw.

You moaned his name in response as his pace became faster, his thrusts harder. Your body was on fire and yet you felt a sense of calm. You could feel his pain slowly fading. His worries disappeared. You were stitching him back together.

“You’ll feel whole again!” You said before kissing him.

As he was pounding into you, you could feel something building up in the lower part of your stomach. Your eyes, usually sapphire blue, started fading, replacing the shade with a very light baby blue color. You grinned when you realized what was happening. His wish was about to come true.

“Your eyes –” Dean noticed but you sealed his mouth with a kiss. As he was slamming into you, your climax hit you like a truck. Your body was stiff, pure pleasure engulfing you completely – nothing you have ever experienced before. Dean didn’t stop until he came seconds later, panting and whimpering – completely falling apart from pleasure. He collapsed on you, burying his nose in the crook of your neck.

“This feels different.” He said, trying to catch his breath.

“How so?”

“Feels like love.”

“Your wish is my command!”

You didn’t leave that night. He fell asleep in your arms, for the first time and in a long time, snoring. No nightmares.  His pain was gone. Since sleep was an unfamiliar concept for you, you just enjoyed his presence while your soul was warming up his now healed one.

You knew you weren’t free to roam the world anymore. You were content with being his – forever.

[feverishscorpio]

Self awareness is the cornerstone of personal growth and emotional well-being. Being self aware is the most powerful thing you can do for yourself, so how do you start?

Start by noticing the way you react to situations around you, good or bad.

When you got into an argument with your friend how did you react? Maybe you cried and walked away, or maybe you yelled and said things you regret. Identifying this will help you understand your thoughts, feelings and emotions better. When we understand them, not just acknowledge, we allow ourselves the ability to nurture our selves and heal.

Healing begins when we compassionately accept our reactions without judgment. The way we treat ourselves, talk to ourselves, the boundaries we have, and the way we experience life are all connected. Think about it, if you tell yourself you’re unattractive, unworthy, replaceable, you’re going to be those things. Because you believe it.

Now when you develop any kind of relationship you are going into that relationship as that person who is unattractive, unworthy, and replaceable. This negative self-perception can greatly influence how you interact with others and can impact your ability to build healthy and fulfilling relationships. It begins to become an endless cycle of meeting people and being hurt or not being fulfilled by the relationship because you need to do the fulfilling. No one, nothing, will ever make you feel whole like you can. Because when we are brought into this world we are not whole. We are simply balls of clay that get molded into whoever those who have access to us want us to be. But through therapy, you can start to uncover your authentic self and break free from the chains of external validation.

It is natural to seek validation outside if ourselves. We all compare ourselves and criticize our reflections. At the end of the day, no one can hurt you more than you hurt yourself. And no one can love you more than you love yourself. You are you for a reason, you don’t owe anyone anything. Be unapologetic.

Who do you have to be sorry to?

When you go outside in that shirt that shows off the arms you don’t like, you don’t like them because you believe others don’t or won’t. You believe that you are supposed to look one way (Maybe you have a couple people in mind you want to look like.) therefore you tell yourself it’s a flaw. It is a flaw that you have this feature therefore you try to hide it. If you can’t hide it, you can’t stop thinking about it- you’re insecure.

Recognizing when you are insecure is a crucial step towards building self-confidence. When we do this now we can identify the thoughts, feelings, and emotions (TFE) associated with the insecurities. Self awareness.

Think, when is the last time someone has insulted you physically? When’s the last time you insulted someone physically?

It is all projection, hurt people hurt people. By recognizing that hurt people hurt people, we can begin to understand that when someone insults us physically, it may stem from their own pain and insecurities. And vice versa.

That is why a smile goes a long way. A smile is saying so many things by saying nothing. It’s a wordless compliment and a distant hug.

Smile.

Smile when you’re sad.

Smile when you wake up in the morning.

Smile when everything seems to be going wrong.

Smile at your reflection every chance you get.

Not only does smiling release neurotransmitters that make the brain a better place to exist but smiles also make the 3D world a better place to exist as well.

Start noticing how often you smile, how often you laugh. Who or what makes you smile naturally?

These observations can give us insights into the positive aspects of our lives and the people who bring us joy. You want to cherish these things because they are often taken for granted.

Every person you meet or encounter is for a reason. They all have something to teach us or help us grow, even if it's not always apparent in the moment. And it is NOT always going to be chocolates and roses. Sometimes, it's the challenges we face or the difficult moments that push us to grow and become stronger individuals. It's important to remember that therapy is a safe space to explore these challenges and difficult moments, as well as the positive aspects of our lives. I want you to read this when you are alone and in a safe space. Let your mind relax and explore it. Don’t be afraid but don’t rush yourself. We have to be gentle with ourselves because we may age but we are constantly learning and growing with every second that passes. The sooner you understand that the easier it will be to learn how to love yourself.

[eleonordiza]

𝟓𝟎 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞:

1. No one knows what they’re doing. Some do it anyway.

2. Work hard on what doesn’t feel like work.

3. Your thoughts make up your life. If you don't enjoy thinking about it, don't spend time pursuing it.

4. To make new friends, treat strangers like you’ve been friends forever.

5. If you want to win awards, be the best. If you want to actually win, be the only one.

6. Most people don’t need advice. They need one person to believe in them.

7. Meditate to upgrade your software. Work out to upgrade your hardware.

8. When you can't decide, the answer is obvious.

9. Pick one problem to solve this decade, and problems today are much easier.

10. The happiest people combine art, passion, and purpose into one compounding vehicle.

11. Spend time with freaks. They have dashes of genius, madness, harshness, and kindness. Authenticity doesn't live in the middle.

12. The world wants to know you for one thing. Do everything you want, but own one idea.

13. To be heard, don’t follow the herd.

14. Fill your mind with inspiration from the edges. Read old books. Walk new streets. Unique ideas start with unique input.

15. People can ‘feel the energy you put into your work.

16. When you’re good, they tell you. When you’re great, they tell others.

17. If you’re following steps, you’re falling behind.

18. The more you’re hesitating to share it, the more you desperately need to.

19. Art is a marathon of creative sprints.

20. The more you write, the more you’re right.

21. Never apologize for doing something good for you but strange for others.

22. The future of work is not 'play.' It's a relentless obsession with what sets your heart on fire. This isn't a game. It's war with a beautiful, torturous craft that consumes your life.

23. If you’re being copied, you’re on to something.

24. Life is short. The world is small. You owe it to yourself to bet everything on a dream you don’t want to wake up from.

25. Obsess the details for a decade, and you will win.

26. When you’re predictably unpredictable, they pay attention.

27. Life gets easier when you fall in love with hard things.

28. Don’t ‘be’ things. Do things.

29. Working out without your phone will solve 99% of your problems.

30. If you're not obsessed with the future you're creating, create a new one.

31. If your problems were given to a friend, you’d know exactly what they should do.

32. When you’re stuck between two things, choose a third.

33. Happiness can be measured by how excited you are to wake up.

34. The more obsessed you are with your craft, the more relaxed you’ll be with your life.

35. If you think you need a haircut, get a haircut.

36. The world is yours if you can make decisions quickly and unemotionally.

37. Use technology more than it uses you.

38. If you want people to follow you, lead them somewhere.

39. Focus on art for a decade, and profit will come for a lifetime.

40. When you start enjoying the pressure, you’re about to win big.

41. Most progress comes without a plan.

42. Everyone is dying to talk about *something.* Notice when their voice changes and their eyes light up, and let them share that world with you. Make people feel seen for their obsessions.

43. Great writing isn’t read. It’s felt.

44. Use your dark side to make something bright.

45. True greatness is a rare combination of obsession, service, and patience.

46. Pain tells you exactly where to go.

47. Don't trust an idea you 'think' of. The greatest ideas come to you. And you have no other choice.

48. Life's short. Go make stuff.

49. Put yourself in places you don't belong. One day, you'll end up where you want to be.

50. The number one rule: Break as many rules as possible.

Thanks for sharing this.... 🙂❤️It is highly appreciated. 👍😄🙂☺️😊

By Amard

[sanjayanbin20]

𝟓𝟎 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞:

1. No one knows what they’re doing. Some do it anyway.

2. Work hard on what doesn’t feel like work.

3. Your thoughts make up your life. If you don't enjoy thinking about it, don't spend time pursuing it.

4. To make new friends, treat strangers like you’ve been friends forever.

5. If you want to win awards, be the best. If you want to actually win, be the only one.

6. Most people don’t need advice. They need one person to believe in them.

7. Meditate to upgrade your software. Work out to upgrade your hardware.

8. When you can't decide, the answer is obvious.

9. Pick one problem to solve this decade, and problems today are much easier.

10. The happiest people combine art, passion, and purpose into one compounding vehicle.

11. Spend time with freaks. They have dashes of genius, madness, harshness, and kindness. Authenticity doesn't live in the middle.

12. The world wants to know you for one thing. Do everything you want, but own one idea.

13. To be heard, don’t follow the herd.

14. Fill your mind with inspiration from the edges. Read old books. Walk new streets. Unique ideas start with unique input.

15. People can ‘feel the energy you put into your work.

16. When you’re good, they tell you. When you’re great, they tell others.

17. If you’re following steps, you’re falling behind.

18. The more you’re hesitating to share it, the more you desperately need to.

19. Art is a marathon of creative sprints.

20. The more you write, the more you’re right.

21. Never apologize for doing something good for you but strange for others.

22. The future of work is not 'play.' It's a relentless obsession with what sets your heart on fire. This isn't a game. It's war with a beautiful, torturous craft that consumes your life.

23. If you’re being copied, you’re on to something.

24. Life is short. The world is small. You owe it to yourself to bet everything on a dream you don’t want to wake up from.

25. Obsess the details for a decade, and you will win.

26. When you’re predictably unpredictable, they pay attention.

27. Life gets easier when you fall in love with hard things.

28. Don’t ‘be’ things. Do things.

29. Working out without your phone will solve 99% of your problems.

30. If you're not obsessed with the future you're creating, create a new one.

31. If your problems were given to a friend, you’d know exactly what they should do.

32. When you’re stuck between two things, choose a third.

33. Happiness can be measured by how excited you are to wake up.

34. The more obsessed you are with your craft, the more relaxed you’ll be with your life.

35. If you think you need a haircut, get a haircut.

36. The world is yours if you can make decisions quickly and unemotionally.

37. Use technology more than it uses you.

38. If you want people to follow you, lead them somewhere.

39. Focus on art for a decade, and profit will come for a lifetime.

40. When you start enjoying the pressure, you’re about to win big.

41. Most progress comes without a plan.

42. Everyone is dying to talk about *something.* Notice when their voice changes and their eyes light up, and let them share that world with you. Make people feel seen for their obsessions.

43. Great writing isn’t read. It’s felt.

44. Use your dark side to make something bright.

45. True greatness is a rare combination of obsession, service, and patience.

46. Pain tells you exactly where to go.

47. Don't trust an idea you 'think' of. The greatest ideas come to you. And you have no other choice.

48. Life's short. Go make stuff.

49. Put yourself in places you don't belong. One day, you'll end up where you want to be.

50. The number one rule: Break as many rules as possible.

[turn-your-woundsinto-wisdom]

50 short rules for a better life:

தமிழில்

1. No one knows what they’re doing. Some do it anyway.

2. Work hard on what doesn’t feel like work.

3. Your thoughts make up your life. Literally. If you don't enjoy thinking about it, don't spend time pursuing it.

4. To make new friends, treat strangers like you’ve been friends forever.

5. If you want to win awards, be the best. If you want to actually win, be the only.

6. Most people don’t need advice. They need one person to believe in them.

7. Meditate to upgrade your software. Work out to upgrade your hardware.

8. When you can't decide, the answer is obvious.

9. Pick one problem to solve this decade, and problems today get a lot easier.

10. The happiest people combine art, passion, and purpose, into one compounding vehicle.

11. Spend time with freaks. They have dashes of genius, madness, harshness and kindness. Authenticity doesn't live in the middle.

12. The world wants to know you for one thing. Do everything you want, but own one idea.

13. To be heard, don’t follow the herd.

14. Fill your mind with inspiration from the edges. Read old books. Walk new streets. Unique ideas starts with unique input.

15. People can ‘feel the energy you put into your work.

16. When you’re good, they tell you. When you’re great, they tell others.

17. If you’re following steps, you’re falling behind.

18. The more you’re hesitating to share it, the more you desperately need to.

19. Art is a marathon of creative sprints.

20. The more you write, the more you’re right.

21. Never apologize for doing something good for you, but strange for others.

22. The future of work is not 'play.' It's a relentless obsession with what sets your heart on fire. This isn't a game. It's war. With a beautiful, torturous craft that consumes your entire life.

23. If you’re being copied, you’re on to something.

24. Life is short. The world is small. You owe it to yourself, to bet everything on a dream you don’t want to wake up from.

25. Obsess over the details for a decade, and you will win.

26. When you’re predictably unpredictable, they pay attention.

27. Life gets easier when you fall in love with hard things.

28. Don’t ‘be’ things. Do things.

29. Working out without your phone will solve 99% of your problems.

30. If you're not obsessed with the future you're creating, create a new one.

31. If your problems were given to a friend, you’d know exactly what they should do.

32. When you’re stuck between two things, choose a third.

33. Happiness can be measured by how excited you are to wake up.

34. The more obsessed you are with your craft, the more relaxed you’ll be with your life.

35. If you think you need a haircut, get a haircut.

36. If you can make decisions quickly, and unemotionally, the world is yours.

37. Use technology more than it uses you.

38. If you want people to follow you, lead them somewhere.

39. Focus on art for a decade, and profit will come for a lifetime.

40. When you start enjoying pressure, you’re about to win big.

41. Most progress comes without a plan.

42. Everyone is dying to talk about *something.* Notice when their voice changes, when their eyes light up, and let them share that world with you. Make people feel seen for their obsessions.

43. Great writing isn’t read. It’s felt.

44. Use your dark side to make something bright.

45. True greatness is a rare combination of obsession, service, and patience.

46. Pain tells you exactly where to go.

47. Don't trust an ideas you 'think' of. The greatest ideas come to you. And you have no other choice.

48. Life's short. Go make stuff.

49. Put yourself in places you don't belong. One day, you'll end up where you want to be.

50. The number one rule: Break as many rules as possible.

சிறந்த வாழ்க்கைக்கு 50 குறுகிய விதிகள்:

1. அவர்கள் என்ன செய்கிறார்கள் என்பது யாருக்கும் தெரியாது. சிலர் எப்படியும் செய்கிறார்கள்.

2. வேலையாக உணராதவற்றில் கடினமாக உழைக்கவும்.

3. உங்கள் எண்ணங்கள் உங்கள் வாழ்க்கையை உருவாக்குகின்றன. உண்மையாகவே. நீங்கள் அதைப் பற்றி சிந்திக்க விரும்பவில்லை என்றால், அதைப் பின்தொடர்வதில் நேரத்தை செலவிட வேண்டாம்.

4. புதிய நண்பர்களை உருவாக்க, அந்நியர்களை நீங்கள் எப்போதும் நண்பர்களாக இருப்பது போல் நடத்துங்கள்.

5. நீங்கள் விருதுகளை வெல்ல விரும்பினால், சிறந்தவராக இருங்கள். நீங்கள் உண்மையில் வெற்றி பெற விரும்பினால், ஒரே ஒருவராக இருங்கள்.

6. பெரும்பாலான மக்களுக்கு ஆலோசனை தேவையில்லை. அவர்களை நம்புவதற்கு ஒரு நபர் தேவை.

7. உங்கள் மென்பொருளை மேம்படுத்த தியானியுங்கள். உங்கள் வன்பொருளை மேம்படுத்த வேலை செய்யுங்கள்.

8. நீங்கள் முடிவு செய்ய முடியாத போது, ​​பதில் தெளிவாக உள்ளது.

9. இந்த தசாப்தத்தை தீர்க்க ஒரு சிக்கலைத் தேர்ந்தெடுங்கள், இன்றைய பிரச்சனைகள் மிகவும் எளிதாகிவிடும்.

10. மகிழ்ச்சியான மக்கள் கலை, ஆர்வம் மற்றும் நோக்கம் ஆகியவற்றை ஒரு கூட்டு வாகனமாக இணைக்கின்றனர்.

11. குறும்புகளுடன் நேரத்தை செலவிடுங்கள். அவர்களிடம் மேதைமை, பைத்தியம், கடுமை மற்றும் இரக்கம் போன்ற கோடுகள் உள்ளன. நம்பகத்தன்மை நடுவில் வாழாது.

12. உலகம் உங்களை ஒரு விஷயத்திற்காக அறிய விரும்புகிறது. நீங்கள் விரும்பும் அனைத்தையும் செய்யுங்கள், ஆனால் ஒரு யோசனையை சொந்தமாக்குங்கள்.

13. கேட்க, மந்தையைப் பின்தொடர வேண்டாம்.

14. விளிம்புகளிலிருந்து உத்வேகத்துடன் உங்கள் மனதை நிரப்பவும். பழைய புத்தகங்களைப் படியுங்கள். புதிய தெருக்களில் நடக்கவும். தனித்துவமான யோசனைகள் தனித்துவமான உள்ளீட்டில் தொடங்குகின்றன.

15. மக்கள் ‘உங்கள் வேலையில் நீங்கள் செலுத்தும் ஆற்றலை உணர முடியும்.

16. நீங்கள் நன்றாக இருக்கும்போது, ​​அவர்கள் உங்களுக்குச் சொல்கிறார்கள். நீங்கள் சிறந்தவராக இருக்கும்போது, ​​அவர்கள் மற்றவர்களுக்குச் சொல்கிறார்கள்.

17. நீங்கள் படிகளைப் பின்பற்றினால், நீங்கள் பின்தங்கி விடுகிறீர்கள்.

18. நீங்கள் எவ்வளவு அதிகமாக அதைப் பகிரத் தயங்குகிறீர்களோ, அவ்வளவு அதிகமாக உங்களுக்குத் தேவை.

19. கலை என்பது கிரியேட்டிவ் ஸ்பிரிண்ட்களின் மராத்தான்.

20. நீங்கள் எவ்வளவு அதிகமாக எழுதுகிறீர்களோ, அவ்வளவு அதிகமாக நீங்கள் சொல்வது சரிதான்.

21. உங்களுக்கு ஏதாவது நல்லது செய்ததற்காக மன்னிப்பு கேட்காதீர்கள், ஆனால் மற்றவர்களுக்கு விசித்திரமானது.

22. வேலையின் எதிர்காலம் 'விளையாடு' அல்ல. இது உங்கள் இதயத்தில் தீ வைப்பதில் இடைவிடாத ஆவேசம். இது ஒரு விளையாட்டு அல்ல. அது போர். உங்கள் வாழ்நாள் முழுவதையும் உட்கொள்ளும் அழகான, சித்திரவதையான கைவினைப்பொருளுடன்.

23. நீங்கள் நகலெடுக்கப்படுகிறீர்கள் என்றால், நீங்கள் ஏதோவொன்றில் ஈடுபடுகிறீர்கள்.

24. வாழ்க்கை குறுகியது. உலகம் சிறியது. நீங்கள் எழுந்திருக்க விரும்பாத ஒரு கனவில் எல்லாவற்றையும் பந்தயம் கட்ட, நீங்களே கடன்பட்டிருக்கிறீர்கள்.

25. ஒரு தசாப்தத்திற்கு விவரங்களைக் கவனித்து, நீங்கள் வெற்றி பெறுவீர்கள்.

26. நீங்கள் கணிக்க முடியாத நிலையில் இருக்கும்போது, ​​அவர்கள் கவனம் செலுத்துகிறார்கள்.

27. கடினமான விஷயங்களைக் காதலிக்கும்போது வாழ்க்கை எளிதாகிறது.

28. விஷயங்களை 'இருக்க' வேண்டாம். காரியங்களைச் செய்யுங்கள்.

29. உங்கள் ஃபோன் இல்லாமல் ஒர்க் அவுட் செய்வது உங்களின் 99% பிரச்சனைகளை தீர்க்கும்.

30. நீங்கள் உருவாக்கும் எதிர்காலத்தைப் பற்றி நீங்கள் கவலைப்படவில்லை என்றால், புதிய ஒன்றை உருவாக்கவும்.

31. உங்கள் பிரச்சனைகள் ஒரு நண்பரிடம் கொடுக்கப்பட்டிருந்தால், அவர்கள் என்ன செய்ய வேண்டும் என்பது உங்களுக்குத் தெரியும்.

32. நீங்கள் இரண்டு விஷயங்களுக்கு இடையில் சிக்கிக்கொண்டால், மூன்றில் ஒன்றைத் தேர்ந்தெடுங்கள்.

33. நீங்கள் எவ்வளவு உற்சாகமாக எழுந்திருக்கிறீர்கள் என்பதன் மூலம் மகிழ்ச்சியை அளவிட முடியும்.

34. உங்கள் கைவினைப்பொருளில் நீங்கள் எவ்வளவு ஆர்வமாக உள்ளீர்களோ, அவ்வளவு நிதானமாக உங்கள் வாழ்க்கையில் இருப்பீர்கள்.

35. உங்களுக்கு முடி வெட்ட வேண்டும் என்று நீங்கள் நினைத்தால், முடி வெட்டவும்.

36. நீங்கள் விரைவாகவும், உணர்ச்சிவசப்படாமலும் முடிவுகளை எடுக்க முடிந்தால், உலகம் உங்களுடையது.

37. உங்களைப் பயன்படுத்துவதை விட தொழில்நுட்பத்தைப் பயன்படுத்துங்கள்.

38. மக்கள் உங்களைப் பின்தொடர வேண்டுமென நீங்கள் விரும்பினால், அவர்களை எங்காவது அழைத்துச் செல்லுங்கள்.

39. பத்தாண்டுகள் கலையில் கவனம் செலுத்துங்கள், வாழ்நாள் முழுவதும் லாபம் வரும்.

40. நீங்கள் அழுத்தத்தை அனுபவிக்கத் தொடங்கும் போது, ​​நீங்கள் பெரிய வெற்றியைப் பெறுவீர்கள்.

41. பெரும்பாலான முன்னேற்றம் திட்டம் இல்லாமல் வருகிறது.

42. ஒவ்வொருவரும் *ஏதாவது ஒன்றைப் பற்றி பேசத் துடிக்கிறார்கள். அவர்களின் குரல் எப்போது மாறுகிறது, அவர்களின் கண்கள் ஒளிரும் போது கவனித்து, அந்த உலகத்தை உங்களுடன் பகிர்ந்துகொள்ளட்டும். மக்கள் தங்கள் ஆவேசத்திற்காக பார்க்கப்படுவதை உணருங்கள்.

43. சிறந்த எழுத்து படிக்கப்படவில்லை. அது உணரப்பட்டது.

44. பிரகாசமான ஒன்றை உருவாக்க உங்கள் இருண்ட பக்கத்தைப் பயன்படுத்தவும்.

45. உண்மையான மகத்துவம் என்பது தொல்லை, சேவை மற்றும் பொறுமை ஆகியவற்றின் அரிய கலவையாகும்.

46. ​​வலி சரியாக எங்கு செல்ல வேண்டும் என்று சொல்கிறது.

47. நீங்கள் நினைக்கும் யோசனைகளை நம்பாதீர்கள். மிகப்பெரிய யோசனைகள் உங்களுக்கு வரும். மேலும் உங்களுக்கு வேறு வழியில்லை.

48. வாழ்க்கை குறுகியது. போய் சாமான்களை உருவாக்கு.

49. நீங்கள் சொந்தமில்லாத இடங்களில் உங்களை வைத்துக்கொள்ளுங்கள். ஒரு நாள், நீங்கள் இருக்க விரும்பும் இடத்தில் முடிவடையும்.

50. நம்பர் ஒன் விதி: முடிந்தவரை பல விதிகளை உடைக்கவும்.

[cosmicdjeanette]

Embracing the Absurd: A Reflective Journey on Authenticity and the Search for Meaning in Life

Learning about the absurd, was personally one of my favorite units of this class because when we moved on to the last two units, it began to make even more sense to me hence why I choose to reflect on Units 4, 5, and 6 together with one final post. I now understand that absurdity, authenticity, and the meaning of life are all connected in a beautiful way but there was a time when I didn’t. Within my first week at Michigan State University, I made an observation that most of the girls at MSU tend to dress the same to the point where it sometimes felt like a uniform.

During the day, girls tend to wear small gold hoop earrings with their hair slicked back and held together by a hair clip that is a nude color with these accessories typically being from the website Princess Polly or Pitaya on Grand River. In combination with their hair and accessories, girls will typically sport a matching Lululemon set with white athletic shoes. During the night when they’re heading to the bars closest to MSU, “The Riv”, “Dublin” or “Harpers” (referred to as “Harps”), they tend to wear black leather pants from either Hollister, American Eagle, or Abercrombie & Fitch. They typically pair these with white air force ones or black and white Nike dunks and top it off with a crop top or a long-sleeved bodycon shirt.

When I noticed this repeating pattern of how most girls on campus dress, it immediately made me feel like an outcast therefore, I tried my best to fit in and wore the clothes that I saw everyone wearing but after a period of time, I began to feel uncomfortable because I knew that it wasn't who I really was. At night, I would cry myself to sleep knowing that I would have to wake up in the morning, carefully plan my outfit, and put on a mask just to brave the world outside. I began to feel like a character in a play, wearing a costume because I knew that I wasn't being authentic to myself. At night I would question myself asking “Why did the universe put me on a campus that it knew I would not fit in at?”.

I am a different person now than I was freshman year and I no longer change myself in order to fit what I believe is the status quo but from this class, I’ve also learned that searching for meaning from the universe is what Albert Camus would define as absurd. Before this class, my definition of what absurdity is was much different than it is now but I’m happy to have learned about Albert Camus and his existential absurdity because it helped me to make some meaningful connections that have contextualized my first-year experience on this campus. Looking back, I realize that being inauthentic to myself made me engage with absurdity but from this, I have also learned that the universe will never provide you an answer or meaning for anything. Therefore, when it comes to asking questions like “What is the meaning of life?” don’t expect the universe to spit back an answer to you.

My inauthenticity and inability to stand in my values and beliefs led me to explore the absurdity of the universe and ultimately helped me to determine that I am the only person that can figure out what my meaning and purpose is whether it’s on campus or elsewhere. Currently, I like to think that I have figured out what my purpose on this campus is and I believe that it is to leave a lasting impact. To do this I’ve become involved in many different parts of campus from helping to kickstart the Academic Scholars Program within the Honors College to volunteering during the Spartan Days of Service and along the way, I discovered like-minded people that embraced me authentically.

[missdbrill]

23.04.23

Ok so the below was a total fail. He ended up coming over at 10pm and as usual by then I'd told myself the narrative that he simply doesn't care enough. However per below I sucked it up and tried to get on enjoying my time with him. However strike 2 was him not initiating and intimacy. Strike 3 was having sex and he was completely silent. Of course the absolute ball of despair I had been pushing down deep inside me all week just exploded. And I cried. Again. Fml. I hate getting like that in front of him. He said all the right things as usual but it didn't seem sincere or at that point I was just overanalysing everything. Went to sleep and woke up with an absolute iron fist clenching my heart. He was lieing right next to me and yet felt a million miles away. I needed more reassurance. I didn't get it as he was asleep. At that point I tried to reason with my crazy mind and said let's see how he is with me when he wakes up. And he felt good, he hugged me and kissed me. It felt normal even after the night before. I started to regain my confidence in us.

Then when Blake was at his party and we were at home alone I had the conversation I needed to have. He looked frustrated at times but I trusted that if it was meant to be he needed to hear me out and it wouldn't push him away. And we had a proper chat finally. I want to write it all down for my future POV. I want to remind myself this is who is he and how he operates.

So with regards to not missing me as much he said he always has no much distracting him from missing me. Which I do get and I understand in a way. He said he'd explained the job situation and I get that. But I also explained I wanted to feel wanted, I wanted to feel loved (he told me I am loved ❤️) and that I wanted this relationship to be it for me. I asked if we are still working towards the same future goals as we had always said and he said of course, nothing's changed. And those 2 words brought me so much peace. Nothing has changed for him about us. This is just learning how he processes things, how he deals with life and who he is as a person. I had also earlier asked him if he had thought about breaking up with me and he said No so strongly that it felt good and it felt genuine. I believe in him I really do. As much as he hasbso many quirks as a person he is very authentic. And that means so much to me. All day he has been quiet, we had sex again and it was quiet. But this time I didn't take it personally. I took it as that's where his mind is right now and that's how he's feeling. I get the sense this weekend that he wasn't in a relationship mood and I get that. The fact he still showed up for me is what matteers.

For some reason he fascinates me as a person. He is so deep and intense and yet also quite hard work to understand and manage. But weirdly I like that. I like getting to know what manes him tick and jow his mind works. The fluctuations in his moods. When he is in the mood to be in love it's so amazing and I could not feel more loved and cherished. I adore how he strokes my head and my face. I'm learning to notice the little things, the touches of affection even when he is being quiet. The way he strokes my arm or holds my hand. When he is not in the mood to be in love he is quiet and broody and you can literally see a thousand thoughts going through his brain. I do understand him though and I relate to him so much. I think it will be hard work at times but for reasons that are worth it not ones that aren't. I really adore him. It really is loving the imperfectly perfect and that's how it should be.

[bagua123]

10 Habits I've Cut Out of My Life for a Happier and Healthier Me

In life, it's important to take stock of our habits and behaviors to see if they're helping or hindering our growth and wellbeing. Over the years, I've realized that certain things were holding me back or negatively affecting my health and happiness. So, I made some changes and stopped doing 10 things that were no longer serving me. Here's what I stopped doing and how it has made a huge difference in my life:

I stopped eating maida-based products to keep myself healthy. Maida is a refined flour that is commonly used in baked goods and processed foods. However, it has been linked to various health problems like obesity, diabetes, and heart disease. By cutting out maida-based products, I've noticed an improvement in my digestion, energy levels, and overall health.

I stopped using an alarm to wake up in the morning. Waking up to a blaring alarm can be jarring and stressful. Instead, I started waking up naturally when my body feels rested. This has made my mornings more peaceful and allowed me to start my day on a calm note.

I stopped focusing on people who leave and started to focus on the ones who stayed through thick and thin. In the past, I used to get caught up in trying to please everyone and would feel hurt when someone left my life. However, I've realized that the people who truly care about me will always be there, and those are the ones I should focus on nurturing relationships with.

I stopped being in touch with people who always left me hanging at the edge. Relationships should be a two-way street, and if someone isn't putting in effort to stay connected, it's not worth my time and energy.

I stopped expecting people to text me first because no one cares about you. It's easy to get caught up in our own lives and forget to reach out to others. Instead of waiting for others to make the first move, I've taken it upon myself to initiate conversations and stay connected with loved ones.

I stopped using my phone while eating and before going to sleep. Technology can be a distraction, and using it during mealtimes or before bed can disrupt our sleep patterns and digestion. By putting my phone away during these times, I'm able to be more present and mindful.

I stopped overthinking about every freaking thing and now I do meditation. Overthinking can lead to anxiety and stress, and it's important to find ways to quiet the mind. Through meditation, I've been able to cultivate a sense of calm and clarity, which has made me more productive and focused in my daily life.

I stopped trying to please everybody because who cares what others think about me? It's impossible to please everyone, and trying to do so can be exhausting and ultimately unfulfilling. Instead, I focus on being true to myself and my values, which has allowed me to build more authentic relationships and live a more fulfilling life.

I stopped trying too hard to be friends with everybody and now I am happy with the only ones I have. Quality over quantity. It's better to have a few close friends who truly understand and support you than a large group of acquaintances who don't really know you. By focusing on quality over quantity, I've been able to deepen my connections and feel more fulfilled in my relationships.

I stopped using Instagram too much and now I read novels and write on Quora. Social media can be addictive and can distract us from more meaningful activities like reading and writing. By limiting my use of Instagram, I've been able to make more time for activities that bring me joy and allow me to learn and grow.

Overall, these changes may seem small, but they have had a significant impact on my life. By letting go of negative habits and mindsets, I have been able to focus on what truly matters and live a happier, more fulfilling life.

[necessaryvent]

Things I'm excited about. 

It's finally happening. I am moving back in with my husband in less than a week. My parents have been supportive. Some issues have been aired with them. It doesn't feel real. I'm excited but I know it will be a big transition.

I look forward to having more independence. I wanted to take some time to write about the things I'm excited about. Because it's easy to get lost in dreading the moving day logistics or not believing this is real. And I haven't journalled about this situation in so long.

Here's the stuff I am excited about (in no particular order):

making a home again - being able to see home decor in stores and not feel sad. Being able to have a place of my own to pretty up and be proud of.

Doing my laundry in my big machine and in my own way, at my own pace. Not in my parents' tiny machine, having to share it with when they need their laundry done. Being able to enjoy the under cover washing line at the house (at my parents' if it rains there's nowhere to hang the washing and I end up putting it off because they get a bit annoying about a clothes rack being up inside because it clutters the house up).

Not sharing a kitchen. Not having to walk from one room to another to food prep for a meal (my fridge and cupboard are in a separate room from the kitchen). Not having to do everything to clean up IMMEDIATELY after dinner because my parents need the kitchen. Just not sharing space in general will be amazing. Any mess will be our mess only. I can do things in my own time. Being able to know that how I leave things is how they'll stay until I want to move them etc. My mum swoops in a lot and she's being helpful but it makes me feel guilty and it makes me feel like she thinks I wouldn't do it on my own.

Not feeling like I'm being watched. Like not having my mum noting everything I do and don't do. She's my boomer mum. She's going to.

Having space from the kids. Not having my bedroom so close to them. Being able to move about when they're sleeping without disturbing them. There are certain 'light sleeping' hours I can't go to the toilet because I know my daughter will wake up. Having an ensuite (my own bathroom!) will be amazing. Not having to keep my personal shit in one small (it's not tiny but it's small for a whole person who used to have their own house) room. This does mean storage issues. I'd normally have a home office for storing documents and shit. I'd normally have my make up etc kept in my ensuite and not in my bedroom. I would have my own places for things. I know my privilege is showing but you have to understand that I worked so hard to have my dream house and I only got a taste of it before having to move out. Now I get another chance.

Not having animals IN the house. We have a dog who lives outside, but at my parents' place there are 4 cats and an indoor dog that sheds. This means animal fluff on so many things and also cats meowing in the night and shit like that. For an anal boomer, my mum sure does let her house literally stink of cat shit constantly due to the litter trays (which are emptied and changed out regularly but still - it's not something I would put up with and a reason I don't want cats - husband is allergic anyway). Do I love the animals themselves? Yes. Do I want to live with them? No.

Having black out curtains again. The days are getting longer. I am sleeping less. I'm awake at 4:30am with the sounds of birds and the sunlight here. I know there are birds at the other house but to have no sunlight tricking me will be great.

Settling in and living an authentic life again. I admit I've had hang ups about living with my parents. It held me back from sharing my life on social media (something I enjoy). I didn't want gossip from people noticing I wasn't at my house. I felt embarrassed. But also, I didn't want to make a big deal out of our separation because deep down there was always hope for reconciliation so we only told certain people in our social circles about our situation if we needed to. Maybe that's something I should have overcome or something but I never felt truly comfortable. I've had to be guarded and protective and while I should never have felt embarrassed or ashamed, most of it was for good reason. A lot of people have no issue being private, but I am someone who thrives best when I can be open and feel like I can show my authentic self. Also it could be the ADHD in me - feeling the need to share and to be really open and honest or else I'll bust or melt down (hopefully on the inside LOL). I want to be able to talk to camera and have my home in the background. I want to come 'out' so to speak (not like that haha). I want to be able to just be. My husband and I have been in talks towards reconciliation for a while. But we had to protect the kids in case it wasn't going to happen. We've had to show affection secretly. We've had to not tell too many people that we were likely to reconcile (I guess it's like not wanting to tell people you're pregnant too early). Being back at home and living as a family under one roof is where we belong now. We've done the work and we're proud of ourselves. We did a brave thing and I am not actually ashamed of that. A lot of people I know would never have the guts to do what we did when things get toxic. I am going to be glad to talk about it to anyone after the fact. But when you're in it, sometimes you just have to be in it. And that was our business and we had stuff to figure out. We didn't need the noise of a peanut gallery (our true friends have been really supportive and will be so happy for us - a green flag I think!). I'm so excited to be able to openly show affection with each other. Even around the kids - to be able to role model what a happy and healthy relationship should look like.

I just look forward to a fresh start. Even living with my parents was not a fresh start. Ideally I should have lived by myself (with the kids but you know what I mean). It would have given me the space to feel that "fresh start" feeling. But financially and housing wise it was not going to be easy at all. I am grateful to have had my parents' help. So I felt at times like I was battling the past in ways that were more difficult than they might have been if I'd had my own space. My childhood shit or my marriage shit. Sigh. But somehow I have been through all that and still found myself again. And that's all that matters. Just imagine what my independent, self caring self can do in my own house with a supportive spouse and my own income (it's not much but it's mine - don't get up my arse for saying that - it is mine and it contributes to my family in more ways than one)!

I want to mind my own business at home and have my own business minded (probably repeating an earlier point but whatever). I guess I'm not just talking about my parents here.

I'm excited to have people over and for the kids to have people over. That was something I really wanted last time around and I never got to enjoy it. It was a big deal for me to entertain and feel proud of our house. I hadn't felt that before. I want that joy and openness again.

I am excited for hot water - filling up the kitchen sink without the aid of a kettle. Having a shower that doesn't require minding a bunch of factors in order to make sure it's not a cold one.

There are so many things I want to do. I can't wait.

[mountaindew-codered]

I’m bothered.

I’m bothered that my family doesn’t seem to be that interested in the fact that I am starting grad school in the fall. My goal is still to go to law school. It’s all I think about. I think about it like people think about their crushes, it’s all consuming. But they haven’t asked me. They haven’t asked me about my plans, or my dreams in a long time. I’ve done everything I said I was going to do, at least everything that I said I was going to do with conviction. 

I know I will go to law school because I don’t think I have ever wanted something so much. Not a minute passes when I’m not thinking about it. Thinking about how to make myself a stronger candidate, or a better lawyer one day. Every waking hour is consumed by law school. The thought of not going, or giving up, is almost too much to bear. Like when you just want so badly for your crush to notice you and talk to you and date you. You sit in class thinking about how they sit at the lunch table mere feet away from you, and that one day - they will come up to you and profess their love. They’ll accept you. 

But law school for me is even more than that. It’s everything to me. It’s all that I am. Like a budding romance causes you to question, “Has anyone every loved another this much?” Law school causes me to wonder, “Is there anyone that has ever wanted something more?” 

And I am bothered because, to me, it feels like someone is questioning the authenticity of my love. It makes me angry, like, “How could you say that? Or think that? How dare you question my love for {insert person’s name here}?” 

Sometimes I think I want a family. To be married. But then I think of how that would distract me from my ultimate goal. I don’t envision myself tucking my children to bed and sharing a glass of wine with the love of my life. I envision myself being the attorney who abolishes the death penalty. I don’t envision myself staying up late, talking to the one I love about life. I envision myself staying up late, preparing for a 15 minute oral argument that serves as a landmark moment in the history of law in our country. I don’t envision love, I envision justice. I don’t envision “my other half,” or “my better half,” I envision my name being synonymous with a “force to be reckoned with,” and -as my grandfather would say, “a high-powered attorney.” 

[awakefor48hours]

AdriChat fic - Part 2

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/Part 4

I go to sleep and when I wake up I see that you guys did enjoy the first part and now I’m making a second part like I said I would. (To be be a real a second, for just a millisecond, I’m really glad that you guys liked this and found it as funny as I did. When I’m tired I think everything is funny so I was cackling the whole time I wrote the first part so to see that you guys also like it makes me happy.)

ONTO THE CRACK

“Spots off,” Marinette said as her suit magically disappeared. Today’s fight was harder than it should’ve been so Tikki must’ve been exhausted. 

“It was a long day, wasn’t it, Tikki?” Marinette said.

After Tikki finished eating she responded, “yeah, Cat Noir even took this one seriously.”

“I know, it was strange, I almost missed it.” He didn’t feel like Cat Noir without the constant flirting and it’s not that she was complaining, it was just off. It was very similar to the feeling as when a cut finally heals. But by tomorrow, it would most likely go back to normal.

Marinette woke up to see that she had a lot of missed texts and a few calls from Alya. Whatever it was must’ve been important so she answered her phone and was immediately bombarded by Alya.

“Finally, you’re up!”

“What’s so important that you had to spam me?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Turn on the news and see for yourself.”

Marinette didn’t want to but Alya always knew what was right for her so she complied and watched today’s news report on her monitor. 

“Don’t be bemused, it’s just the news.” So far so good. Nothing worth fussing over. “This morning we were given footage from an anonymous viewer that got this on camera.”

A short clip of Cat Noir jumping into Adrien’s window played and that woke Marinette right up. In fact, this might’ve been the most awake she’s ever been in her entire life.

“As you can see this footage of Cat Noir jumping into popular teen model, Adrien Agreste, window. So far our team hasn’t found any signs that this footage was doctored in anyway. Therefore, is Adrien Agreste really Cat Noir or is this just a theory?”

Marinette immediately stopped the footage from playing. This wasn’t happening. This was not happening. Was Adrien really Cat Noir? He always wore his ring but finding a Cat Noir or Ladybug styled jewelry was so common in Paris that you could find them easily and it wasn’t out of the question to think that he could get an authentic ring. Also since Marinette always had to disappear from the group as soon as an akuma was on the loose, she never knew if Adrien did the same. Who was kidding, she probably wouldn’t even notice since his dad took him away more often than there was super hero business. Gabriel Agreste was the real super villain, not Shadowmoth. 

Marinette called Alya back as soon as the events of what she played through head for the millionth time. 

“You saw that, right? Do you really think that Adrien is Cat Noir.”

No, that couldn’t be right. Adrien was sweet, caring, and charming, not that Cat Noir couldn’t be these things either but he has to try very hard in order to even be half as good as Adrien. 

“No, there’s absolutely no way that this is real. Besides, they said they’re still trying to figure out if the footage is even real. So until we hear it from Adrien himself or the news then I won’t believe it.” 

This was a bold calm Marinette was making but she only delayed how she felt about this. Hypothetically, if Adrien was Cat Noir, it would be cruel to him to do this because then he would have to stop being Cat Noir forever. She didn’t want anyone else in Cat Noir’s place, not after all the time they spent together. 

“Alright, but I’ve watched the clip about a million times by now and it doesn’t look edited in anyway. But I understand where you’re coming from, just hurry up and get ready. I’ll meet you at school.” They hung up and Marinette was left to only think about what she saw not too long ago. 

“Marinette,” Tikki said. “You should get ready for school.”

“How can I even think about school, Tikki. What am I even going to do if Adrien is Cat Noir?”

“It’s like you said, no one knows if the video has been tampered with at all. You know that citizens are just as curious as Shadowmoth is to find out your true identities.”

Hearing that made Marinette feel better. Tikki was right, as usual, besides, she could just ask Adrien when (more like “if”) got to school today. 

About fifteen minutes later, Marinette arrived at her school and saw a crowd of students standing outside as if they were all waiting on something. 

“Marinette!” That was Alya’s voice. “Over here!” Marinette saw Alya gestured for her to come to the swarm of people.

“Alya, what’s going on?”

“What do you think? We all saw the news and we’re all curious to see if Adrien really is Cat Noir. I also promised my viewers that I would tell them the news as soon as possible.”

Before Marinette had time to think of a response, the very familiar black limo dropped Adrien off and he was immediately bombarded with questions. But after the first few seconds, it was quiet enough for one person, Alya, to ask the main question on everyone’s mind.

“Adrien, is it true that you’re Cat Noir?” 

“Actually,” Adrien started. Marinette mentally crossed her fingers. There had to be another logical explanation to this. At this point, she’d even accept an illogical explanation to this. 

“Cat Noir and I are dating.” She took it back. She wanted needed a logical explanation. 

It seems like everyone else did too because everyone stopped asking questions long enough for Adrien to walk inside. Marinette was experiencing so many different emotions at the same time too. Shock, confusion, jealously, heartbroken, and anger. As sad as she was to hear that Adrien was in a relationship, she felt some relief that it was with a super hero, that means he would always be safe. But she was angry because if neither Cat Noir nor Adrien hadn’t told her yet that means he clearly wasn’t ready to make their relationship public and she had past experience of parts of her private life shoved into the public’s eye before. But more important, she had some choice words for Cat Noir next time they met. If he was in a committed relationship, with Adrien of all people, it wasn’t fair to him that he continued to flirt with her. Next they meet, she going to give him a piece of her mind.

Part 2 over. I can smell a part 3 (maybe even a part 4) coming up. My brain keeps building on more ideas to continue this cursed late night idea. Like last time, I wrote this in one sitting without proofreading this. Also like last time, if you enjoyed this in any way shape or form, I will make another part. 

[deafsignifcantother]

wife

♥ summary: a mitski songfic!! you're stuck with bo, in love with him, but when he suddenly compares you to a wife you develop an inner turmoil. also yes i used some lines from the genius lyric analysis thing because i have 0 reading comprehension skills.

♥ relationships: bo sinclair x deaf amab reader

♥ word count: 1,545

♥ warnings: angst kinda no comfort, bo semi unlikable, misogyny?

He is your home. The feeling of security and dependability are both things that did not come to you naturally - instead, something your situation had made obligatory. But it doesn't make your reality less authentic to you. The walls in his house are dusty with a state of unkemptness, something that you noticed immediately upon meeting him. When he reached his hand out for you to shake, you decided you would try to clean it. But no matter how much work you do for him, he never tells you good job. It's always that's a start. No matter how close you get to him, there are always a few steps between you. Maybe it's the language barrier. He has no idea how to talk to you, not really. Amid the words he slurs together and the way he turns his head away from you when he talks, even if you had that rare talent of lip-reading, it would be impossible to understand him. Perhaps life would be easier if he left a trail of breadcrumbs for you. Do you not understand him, beyond language? Is his character something you're misjudging? Does he not love you the way he claims to?

He lets you sleep in his bed, and he kisses your forehead before breakfast every day. He will pick you up from your daily activities to cook you lunch. Sitting at that table with all the brothers is a peculiar warmth that creeps up into your sense of danger. You could be out there, in the museum, just like your friends that you came here alongside. But instead, they chose you. They chose you to be an addition to their family. Still, they won't lend you a map, anything to help you navigate the way into the family.

The house is clean. You've started to be the one that wakes up early, cooking breakfast. Which slowly turned into you cooking dinner, and then lunch. Soon enough, you were the one spending the time in the kitchen, cleaning the house, scrubbing the bloody floors, and organizing the guns in the case. How many lives have been lost here? You wonder if yours will eventually, too. It becomes your house, as well as a tomb, just as much as it is the brothers.

The house, as terrifying as it is, belongs to you.

He starts picking up on sign language. You never gave him lessons, but SimComing enough has helped him through the many months you've been around. In those months, you both had had your first kiss. It was after you cooked him breakfast and cleaned the plates. He pressed his chest up against your back to the point where you could feel each of his breaths. When you turn around, his non-dominant hand goes to your waist.

"I feel as if you're my wife."

Layers of emotions ring in your head. At first, it feels like you have succeeded in something. The effort - cleaning his house, staying true to him, never getting angry, and never putting yourself in dangerous situations had paid off. He was finally letting you in. And then his words had sunk in. Wife.

You give him a tight-lipped smile.

"That's because I am."

Thereafter, you noticed all the clothes that he was giving you (from the suitcases of the victims). Feminine clothing. You were just thankful he could accurately guess your size.

But wearing dresses around the house felt a bit uncomfortable.

At the breakfast table, everyone sitting there with you, even though you are a boy just like them you couldn't help but feel more like a bride.

Wife. Is that what he wanted? You imagined what his dream life would be: two children, one a boy and one a girl, with a wife that would wear pink aprons and never leave the house. The ideal is so far from you, but it feels closer than whatever daydream you had growing up. Should you try? Let him grab your hips, let him continue to be the big spoon, let him take off your shoes while sitting you on the couch, let him put those rose-scented shampoos in the bathroom, the scented lotions, and chapsticks. Is there truly harm being done? Are you being ungrateful? You'll try to be his wife. If that's all he wants in return for keeping you alive, then you can try. Because without him, then what are you except a victim?

But the more you try, the more everything seems to fall apart.

He spills a beer, whispering to himself under his breath, and when you try to clean, he brushes you off. "Leave it alone," he says, forgetting you cannot hear him, and frustration builds inside of him. You continue kneeling, using a towel to soak up the liquid, not looking up at him.

He jabs the toe of his boot into your side. He kicks you over. "I said leave it alone!"

The space behind your eyes vibrates, sizzling like sparkling water, and you blink up at him. It starts in your chest, and it pulls on your muscles. When you try to move, the sensation grows stronger and extracts, pulsating like an organism. While it dissolves you from the inside, your exterior heats up, and for once, you feel as if you might regress back to being the enemy. He gets up when he realizes you aren't going to move.

Is this what it feels like to be a wife? Is that what life is: does the state of 'falling apart' simply mean that everything is coming together? The more he seems to be getting close to you, the harsher he gets.

During the nights, he trails his hands up your shirt, holding his hand over your chest, which you realize isn't him getting closer to your heart.

And after dinner one night, he puts out his cigarette, looking you up and down. Your hands rest on the table. Every day, you try to lift them, try to explain what you're feeling: that you can't be his wife. But you wonder if he would even understand.

"The fuck are you so worried about?" He says out loud, signing something with similar meaning.

"Do you really wish I were your wife?" You sign. His eyebrows furrow. He stops using his lips.

"What are you talking about?"

You blink rapidly, trying to contain yourself, suddenly becoming aware that he had genuinely only used the word wife once. "You said that before - I am like your wife."

He waves his hand and smacks his lips. "Whatever. Meant nothing." When he tries looking away, you slam your hand down on the table. His head whips over to you.

"I'm serious. Do you wish I were your wife?"

You feel foolish, asking this while wearing the woman's clothing and pink-tinted chapstick. The answer feels obvious.

"I don't care what you are." He says. He lifts his hands again, fumbling, before giving up and standing from his chair. "But you're one mistake of a wife."

You wish you had closed your eyes or looked away from him, anything to prevent you from seeing what he had said. It shouldn't matter to you. You don't even want to be his wife. The word overplays in your head until finally, it means nothing to you.

You hope that one day, maybe the opportunity to be his wife will come and that you will take it.

But since then, you've started to sleep with your back turned to him. You don't sit at the dinner table anymore, and he doesn't try to stop you. Drifting away, you find no hope that he even realizes that what he said was wrong.

Until one day, as you sit in the mechanic's garage, writing things down while Bo works on a car, a group of people walks up. Your first response is to stand and hide but the motion is cut off when Bo raises a hand to you, signaling to stay in place. You can almost imagine him letting out an I'll handle it. You press your knees together, worried, watching as he leans against the wall. With a smile on his face, he calls the people over, talking to them. You try and look busy. Interacting with the victims has never been anything you stay good at, as it's something you have only done once before (and it resulted in Bo nearly decapitating the person with a baseball bat - and something you had missed was him screaming stay away from him).

When one of the people points at you, you lift your head, making eye contact with Bo. He smiles.

"That's my husband." He signs.

And you wave.

[outercrasis]

Maybe It’s A Sign

Pairing: Modern!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 9.3k+

Warnings: alcohol, implied age difference, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, p-in-v sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming

Summary:  You and Mando have been driving across America together for months. You're happy to be with him but part of you longs for something more.

A/N: I don’t really know the time period for this, probably like anything pre-2010s. There’s no use of y/n and let me know if I missed a warning :)

Read it on AO3

The breeze from the open truck window is cool against your heated skin. It's your only relief as the sun beats down on you through the windshield, the busted A/C offering no help. You're headed down some freeway in the middle of nowhere America, riding shotgun in an old beat-up truck that's seen better days.

You've been keeping your eyes on the flat landscape surrounding you, watching as field after field passes you by. They really weren't joking when they'd named them the Great Plains. Music filters through the air, some classic rock song you've heard a thousand times before. You still hum along mindlessly, enjoying the small amount of entertainment.

Bored of the vast sameness outside your window, your eyes drift over to your companion, driver, and owner of the truck. Mando. You study him, finding him far more interesting than the fields outside.

His worn baseball cap has been pushed up, presumably from scratching his scalp underneath and not bothering to fix it. Soft brown curls peek out around the edges of the hat. He has his sunglasses on and his eyes are firmly fixed on the road ahead, as they should be. The patchy scruff along his jawline has grown out a bit from your recent days on the road and you can see a few gray hairs mixed in with his darker natural color.

He shrugged off his jacket earlier in the day, leaving him in a worn gray t-shirt that hugged his lean muscles all just right. His faded blue jeans are on and you wonder how he can stand to wear them in the oppressive summer heat. You gave into shorts days ago.

All in all, he was a far better sight than anything outside the truck. As you look him over, you muse how everything he owns seems to be worn in. His rusty truck, his old hat, his distressed clothes. They all carry a sense of being lived in, nothing new and shiny on him. Well, except for his jewelry. His silver necklace and rings always shine brightly, a dramatic contrast to the rest of him.

"Stop staring," Mando suddenly says, breaking you from your observation of him. You're a little embarrassed to have been caught, but you aren't going to let him know that.

"Why? Nothin' else to look at around here."

That rewards you with a chuckle. At least he isn't irritated by your staring then.

"Don't you have a book or something?" 

You look over at the book you had thrown on the dashboard. A used copy of Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger that you picked up a couple states back. You aren't sure you like Holden, but it's a good read at least. "Yeah, but I can't read it for long before I start feeling sick. So I guess I'll just have to look at you instead."

"Sure that I won't make you sick?" Mando teases.

You smile. He's in a good mood today. There are days where conversation with him is like pulling teeth, but it makes days like today all the more worth it. 

"Nah, you aren't so hard on the eyes." You say it cool and casual, genuine but not needy. As though you don't often think of his looks when you have the time and privacy to satisfy your needs.

Mando shakes his head slightly but you can see the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Sure, sweetheart."

He never seems to believe you when you compliment his appearance. It breaks your heart a little. Sure, he has some years on you, but you aren't blind. You know a good-looking man when you see one and Mando? He was it. If the man wasn't oblivious, he'd notice the looks plenty of women and some men throw him when he strolls into town.

Not sure of what to say next, but not wanting the conversation to end, you take to a habit that's been slowly forming over your months with him. It had begun out of boredom one day, but continued due to a desperate urge to learn anything and everything your mysterious companion will tell you about himself.

"When's your birthday?"

Mando isn't surprised anymore by your random questions. "May eighteenth."

Your eyes go wide at his answer. It was July now, meaning he'd let the day come and go without telling you. You had just assumed his birthday hadn't come around with you yet. "Mando! Why didn't you tell me? I would have at least said something if I had known."

He shrugs. "Birthdays aren't a big deal where I grew up."

"Were you raised Jehovah's Witness or something?" you ask.

"No, nothing like that." His fingers drum slightly on the steering wheel. You noticed a while ago that he did that when you got close to something he didn't want to talk about. His childhood always seems to be a touchy subject.

You want to know more, want to learn all of his secrets, but you don't want to jeopardize his good mood. Mando had shared bits and pieces of those more intimate details with you over your shared months with him, but always on his own time. His own terms. You won't push it now. Instead, you pivot to something more innocuous.

"If you could only eat one meal for the rest of your life, what would it be?" 

You're surprised when he barely takes any time to consider the question before answering. "Tacos."

You raise an eyebrow. "Tacos? I took you for more of a burger and fries kind of guy."

"Nothing compares to a good authentic taco from down by the border." He says it with such confidence that you can do nothing other than believe him.

"I wouldn't know," you say.

Mando cocks an eyebrow at you now. "We'll have to fix that then."

A warm flush runs through your body at his words. You know he isn't looking to get rid of you, but hearing him make plans for the future with you, no matter how tentative, makes you happier than you care to admit. Small promises that you know he'll make good on eventually given the time and opportunity.

"What about you?" he asks.

"Easy. A full breakfast. Eggs, bacon, potatoes, and toast. Doesn't matter how they're cooked or the specific options, you can't go wrong."

You stretch yourself out in the cab as you answer, throwing your feet up on the dash. Your eyes close for a moment and you miss the way Mando's eyes rake over your extended frame.

"You're never awake for breakfast," Mando comments. He's right. You enjoy your sleep and when left to your own devices you easily dream through breakfast hours.

"That doesn't matter," you retort. "Breakfast food isn't only good in the morning."

You continue that way for a while, gathering small bits of information about him and sharing your own in return. You learn that he prefers hot weather over the cold, soft pillows over firm ones, showers over baths, and most surprisingly that he has a soft spot for musicals. That fact had made you giggle, imagining Mando singing along to The Music of the Night. With all of his mystery, he wouldn't make for a bad Phantom you think.

As the afternoon wears on, you can feel yourself growing tired. Between the warmth of the sun, the lulling rumble of the truck, and the comfortable environment of the cab, you're fighting to keep your eyes open. Mando notices your struggle and reaches a hand out towards you.

You aren't really sure when this began, but you aren't complaining about it. Mando would hold your hand whenever you fell asleep in the truck, thumb gently rubbing against your skin. His hands were rough, callused from years of work, but they felt nice. They felt strong, comforting. In those moments nothing else in the world mattered. And if you thought about his hands later, touching places other than your hands, then that was your business and no one else’s. 

You wake up a couple hours later, Mando calling your name to pull you from your sleep. The sun has moved down in the sky and you guess it’s somewhere close to five o’clock. You’d check the time on the radio, but Mando never seemed to bother keeping it right due to regularly changing time zones with all the cross country traveling. 

You’re sitting outside of some 24 hour diner on a random roadside. Mando seems to be fond of these little dives, preferring them to any of the big chain restaurants you always pass. Fast food is the only exception to that rule and even that’s rare, these food stops often being one of few chances to stretch your legs when you’re on the road.

“What do you think? Do they have the best pie in America?” you joke, pointing at the sun-worn sign hanging below the restaurant’s name. You can’t count how many ‘best blank in America’ signs you’ve seen at this point. While you can’t credit their authenticity, it usually did mean there was something good waiting for you on the menu.

“I suppose we’ll have to be the judges of that,” Mando replies.

You tug on your socks and shoes that you pulled off earlier in the day and hop out of the truck. The easy conversation and warm nap have you in a great mood, one that makes you a little bolder than you might otherwise be. Walking into the diner, you grab onto Mando’s arm, smiling at him when he looks down at you in surprise. He doesn’t pull away from you though and your heart beats a little bit faster.

The diner has plenty of open seats and you seat yourselves, grabbing one of the booths. The stiff vinyl isn’t the most comfortable, but you can’t say you’re surprised. The place looks like it hasn’t been renovated in a decade. If the smell from the kitchen is anything to go off of though, the food will be just fine.

A waitress comes over to take your orders. She’s exactly what you would imagine a waitress to look like in a diner like this one. Slightly heavyset, a kind face, and a big smile to offer you. “Hi there, what can I get the two of you?” she asks.

“I’ll take a coke, ma’am,” Mando says. He seems oblivious to the flush on the waitress’s cheeks at his baritone. 

“I’ll take a coke too.”

“I’ll be right back, folks.”

You reach over to grab a sticky menu from the end of the table. The stickiness grosses you out a little, but it really does add to the ambiance of the place. Your conversation from earlier drifting back into mind, you immediately look for the breakfast section. Perfect. Their ‘two eggs and more’ option is exactly what you were looking for.

The waitress returns with your drinks and takes your orders, Mando getting himself a burger and fries. You smirk at him, taking the wrapper off of your straw. “I thought you said you weren’t a burger and fries kind of guy?”

Mando watches as you carefully make a wrapper worm, dropping the smallest amount of soda on the paper to make it move. “I just said tacos were my favorite, never said I’m a guy who doesn’t enjoy a good burger and fries, sweetheart.”

“Fair enough,” you say with a shrug.

You fall into a comfortable silence together at the table. Silence isn’t an uncommon occurrence between the two of you. When you first joined Mando you talked all the time. Trying to fill up the empty space, feeling like if someone wasn’t talking then the situation was awkward. Slowly you learned though. The silence was never awkward until you made it that way and unless Mando had something to say, he’d stay quiet. He’s not incapable of conversation, he just doesn’t like to force it.

You softly hum a tune that’s been stuck in your head, looking out the diner window and enjoying the sunset. It’s a gorgeous one today, the sky looking like an oil painting with its gradient of colors. The flat plains allow for a good view of it too, only a small building in the distance blocking any part of the horizon. You kick yourself for not picking up that disposable camera at the gas station this morning. The photo would never do it justice, but at least that way you could have a small piece of the gorgeous sky to hold onto.

Plates being set down on the table brings you back down to earth. You happily dig into your meal, pleased to have been right about the quality of food here. Nothing could beat a good meal at a greasy diner. Mando seems to enjoy his burger as well, scarfing it down well before you finish your plate.

He always ate like that and you aren’t sure why. It’s as though he thinks if he doesn’t eat it fast enough then someone is going to come and steal it from him. Early on you’d tried to speed up your eating, feeling awkward every time he finished and was forced to wait on you. Now though, you don’t care. Mando rarely ever stops moving and a meal with you is a time you can be certain that he isn’t doing anything for once. You hope that eventually it might encourage him to actually enjoy his food as well, but that still seems a long way off.

Mando picks at his fries and sips at his coke while you finish up. The waitress comes by to refill the drinks, another flush on her cheeks when Mando thanks her. There must not be many attractive men who roll through here if a simple thanks has her blushing, you think. Poor lady, she seems quite nice.

“So, what’s the plan?” you ask Mando between bites of egg and toast.

“Plan?” 

“Yes, plan. We’ve been driving west for two days now and you seem to have some destination in mind. So, what’s the plan?” What plan, of course Mando has a plan. He always does. Was it always well thought out or complete? No, but there is never a time where he doesn’t have some sort of plan, some idea of where he’s off to next. You’re the one without plans, content with travelling alongside him.

Before Mando can reply, the waitress returns to the table and clears his now empty plate. “Can we get a slice of your pie?” Mando asks.

“Of course, what flavor would you like?” she replies.

“Whatever flavor you think is best, ma’am.” That garners yet another blush on the waitress’s cheeks. Wow. Things must be really bad around here then. One good-looking customer shouldn’t have that big of an impact on anyone, much less a woman who’s clearly made this job her life’s work.

She leaves and you prompt Mando again. “So? Plan?”

“I’m going to meet someone tonight, pick up a new job. Then we’ll go from there,” he finally tells you. 

You aren’t pleased by his half-cryptic half-telling answer. He’s always doing this to you, giving you answers but never quite the whole thing. You bet he already knows what the next job is, he’s just being coy about it for some ridiculous reason.

You decide not to push it and slide your plate over to Mando. There are some hash browns left and he won’t just ask for them despite the fact that you’re clearly done. He doesn’t say thanks, just picks up the fork and shovels them in. This by now is routine too so it doesn’t bother you, but it’s still odd. Mando is just weird about food.

He finishes the last of your meal and the waitress returns with the pie. “Blueberry, winner of the county festival five years running,” she tells you.

You grab a fork and dig in, suddenly finding the room in your stomach for dessert. Best pie in America might be a stretch, but you believe their claim to the best pie in the county. It’s delicious, eliciting a small but satisfied groan from you on the first bite. You go to take a second bite when you realize Mando hasn’t moved yet, he’s just watching you with an expression on his face that you can’t quite make out.

“Earth to Mando?” you say, waving your hand. “Try the pie, it’s delicious.”

He breaks from his stare and takes a piece of the pie. “‘S good,” he says around the mouthful.

You laugh at his terrible manners. “Gross, finish chewing before you talk.”

He doesn’t have a witty retort, but he gives you a grin that makes you feel like you’ve won a million dollars. It’s one of the ones that reaches his eyes, making them just shy of sparkling. Now you really wish you had bought that disposable camera.

Finishing the award-winning dessert, you and Mando go up to the counter to pay. He’s left a tip on the table, a sizable one in your opinion, but you aren’t going to say anything about it. Mando is always leaving big tips at places like these.

You take in the diner for one last moment, not paying attention to Mando’s conversation with the waitress until she says something that catches your ear.

“-shift ends in a half hour.” Did you hear that right? Was she really propositioning Mando right now? Christ, things must be downright desolate around here. 

Your heart stops as you wait to hear Mando’s reply. He could easily accept. She’s an attractive woman with that classic middle America charm about her. Any other man would probably take her up on the offer. Would it shatter your heart into a million pieces if Mando did? Most likely. But do you have any right to feel that way? Most likely not. 

Mando isn’t tied to you, at least not in that way, and he’s certainly still a man. You haven’t known him to chase after any women the whole time you’ve been with him, but surely he has needs and the waitress is beautiful and willing. You wouldn’t be able to fault him for it. 

“I’m flattered, but the lady here and I need to be getting back on the road,” Mando says, slinging an arm around your shoulders. You do your best to keep your face neutral, not wanting to come off as rude while also trying not to make it obvious the way your heart swoops at Mando’s reply. You know he doesn’t mean anything serious by it, but the implication is still very much there.

Embarrassment washes over the poor woman’s face. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I just assumed…” she trails off, not finishing her thought. You want to feel bad for her, but you can’t help but feel sorry for yourself.

You have a good idea of what she assumed. You’ve heard a multitude of mistaken relationships by now between you and Mando. Everything from some kind of family relation, to something more perverted that’s assumed by greasy motel attendants who cast odd glances when you ask for a double instead of a single. It’s never any less uncomfortable.

 Mando brushes it off. “It’s fine ma’am, no harm, no foul.” The waitress doesn’t blush at his words anymore.

Bill paid, you and Mando leave the diner. His arm leaves you and you climb back into the truck. The radio flickers back to life and neither of you speak. You wish you could know what’s going on inside of his head. Probably just thinking about the next job. That seems like him, always focused on what’s coming next.

You can’t help but be consumed with thoughts of him. Situations like the one with the waitress always left you distracted. There’s no real way to describe your relationship with Mando. You had helped him with a deal and he had helped you with a way out of your one-horse town. Originally neither of you planned on staying together for this long, but at some point Mando stopped asking you where you wanted to go and you stopped asking if he was going to leave.

You’re comfortable around each other, content to drive across America while Mando picks up job after job. At some point your feelings deepened for him, you aren’t exactly sure when, but now you can’t imagine leaving Mando. It’s no longer just about the adventure of it for you. It’s something more, a deeper tie than you’ve ever had to anyone. However, you have no idea if he feels the same way and you don’t intend to find out. Better to love your mystery man from afar then reveal yourself and get left in the dust.

Fifteen minutes into the drive, Mando reaches over and turns down the radio. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable back there.”

You’re a bit surprised to hear an apology. After all, he had nothing to really apologize for. The waitress had come onto him, not the other way around. You know Mando isn’t the type to flat out refuse and insult someone like that. What he had done was… fine. You had hardly even considered it.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Mando,” you tell him. “If anything she did, propositioning you like that.”

A small, relieved smile works its way across his face. “It was quite bold.” 

That makes you laugh. “I’m not surprised, she was sizing you up since we walked in.”

“She was not,” Mando argues.

You shift in your seat to face him. “Are you kidding? You really didn’t notice her blushing every time you spoke to her?” If Mando was this oblivious maybe you didn’t need to worry about him catching onto you.

“Now you’re just lying, sweetheart.”

“Am not. You just don’t pay attention.”

Mando rolls his eyes and turns the radio back up. He mumbles something but you can’t make it out. You let it slide and allow yourself to relax. Your hand falls to the center of the bench seat as you look out the window. The stars are coming out now, another gorgeous sight in the vast expanse of the sky. So far away from the city, it feels like you can see every pinprick of light the universe has to offer. It’s a bit disorienting honestly. Nothing makes you feel smaller by comparison and yet, you don’t really mind.

You startle as something wraps around your hand. Looking down, you realize that it’s just Mando, holding your hand as he does when you’re close to falling asleep in the truck. You look up at him, confused. You aren’t anywhere close to nodding off. He should know that, so why…? 

Mando doesn’t look at you, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. His thumb softly rubs against the back of your hand. You relax into his touch, turning your eyes back to the stars. Confusion about Mando’s actions doesn’t compare to the way your stomach flips at his gentle touch. It feels nice, domestic almost, if one can consider a life lived out of the front seat of a rusted out pickup domestic. His hand doesn’t leave yours until he pulls into the pothole filled parking lot of some dive bar.

Mando parks and turns the truck off. You move to get out of the truck with him when he squeezes your hand to stop you.

“Stay in the truck,” Mando says. His hand leaves you and he opens his own door, jumping out onto the cracked asphalt. 

You look over at him, incredulous. “Excuse me? You know I am old enough to go in there, right?”

“I know. Stay in the truck.” Mando closes the truck door, giving you no more room to argue with him. It pisses you off. 

What is this? Soften you up by holding your hand only to leave you behind? You hate when he does this, treating you like a child that’s just tagging along with him. You suppose you are tagging along, which stings a bit more, but you could be helpful, useful even if he would just let you in. Instead he keeps you at arm’s length at times, treating you like you can’t take care of yourself. He has no right to boss you around like that, telling you where you can and can’t go.

You watch his figure enter the bar, temper rising. If this place was good enough for him, it was certainly good enough for you. A bar like this had been where you met Mando months ago, working as a bartender and server. It didn’t bring back the best of memories, but you can handle yourself. At worst a fight might break out or patrons might get a little handsy. You can avoid the first and as for the second, it’s not as though Mando would need to put someone in the hospital for getting a little too flirty with you.

After fuming in the truck for a couple minutes, you make up your mind. You look yourself over in the mirror, trying to fix your appearance to look like you hadn't just spent the last two days in a truck. Pleased with yourself, you pull your shirt down slightly to reveal a bit more cleavage. The discovery of the power a pair of tits held in dive bars was one you made a long time ago. You flip the mirror back up and get out of the truck.

You practice your walk as you approach the bar door, trying to keep it calm and confident. Mando is going to be pissed at you for this, you already know, but you refuse to be treated like a child. If coming in here without his permission is what it takes for him to view you differently, then so be it. Younger you might be, but incapable you are not.

The moment you walk in the door, you spot Mando. He’s in the corner, talking to someone with his back to the door. He doesn’t even notice as you walk in and stroll up to the bar.

The man behind the counter is old, his white shirt spotted with stains and a towel thrown over his shoulder. It’s almost too stereotypical a look and you want to laugh. The stiff look he gives you though stifles your amusement.

“What can I get you?” he asks gruffly as you take a seat at the bartop.

“I’ll take a whiskey on the rocks.” 

Whiskey is not your favorite drink. Not by a long shot. Really, you would have loved to order something fruity that you can’t taste the alcohol in, but whiskey is something you’ve learned to tolerate. You know that appearances matter in a place like this and a fruity drink would mark you as someone lost, not as someone who belongs here. You aren’t looking to get trashed anyway, just something to calm your nerves.

It doesn’t take long before someone is sidling up next to you at the bar. You don’t acknowledge him right away, instead staring up at the small CRT TV that’s playing the local news above the bar. Some murder case from a couple towns over is currently being highlighted. Lovely.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing here?” he asks you.

You glance over at him, enough to get a look, but you don’t let your eyes linger. Lingering eyes would mean an invitation that you certainly don’t want to give. You have to admit, as far as seedy dive bar men went, he isn’t hard to look at. Not much older than you, clean shaven, bright blue eyes. Another time you might have gone for someone like him. Not now. These days your thoughts are only occupied by scruff, dark hair, and warm brown eyes.

“Came in for a drink,” you reply simply.

He leans in a bit closer. “Can I buy you another?”

You take a sip of your drink. “I think I’m alright, thanks.”

He pushes in even further, placing a hand on your thigh. This guy didn’t take no for an answer apparently. “Aw, come on now, don’t be that way sweetheart.”

Hearing him call you sweetheart makes you want to punch him more than him touching you does. It sounds wrong coming out of his mouth, harsh and manipulative, not the smooth and warm way Mando says it. For a moment, you do seriously consider punching this guy square in the jaw before deciding against it. You came in here to prove a point and not being able to handle a pushy guy would just prove the exact opposite of that.

You turn in your chair to move your thigh away from him. He has the decency to let his hand fall at least. “Don’t call me that,” you tell him.

“Alright then, what do I call you?”

You turn your attention back to the TV. Now they were highlighting a feel good story about an animal adoption from the nearby shelter. Odd shift in tone. You don’t reply to Blue-eyes and hope he gets the message. 

“Playing hard to get, that’s fine,” he says. You take another sip of your whiskey. The news shifts to the weather. There’s more warm weather on the way for the next week, no storms in sight. That’ll be nice to drive in you think.

Blue-eyes’ hand returns to your thigh, creeping up higher than it was before. “I don’t mind hard to get, sweetheart.”

That one garners a slap. You do it before you even give it a real thought. It’s a good one at least, making a very solid sound as his head spins. It’s a testament to the bar that no one even spares it a second glance. Blue-eyes turns back to you, furious.

“You’re going to regret that, bitch,” he hisses at you, roughly grabbing your arm.

“You’re going to regret it if you don’t take your hand off of her.” 

You’ve never been so happy to hear Mando’s voice in your life. Could you handle this guy? Probably. Do you want to? Absolutely not. You know on your own there's a near certain chance you'll end up with bruises before this guy gives up.

Somewhere in your mind you register the very real possibility that Mando is pissed at you right now. You shove it down, choosing to focus on the fact that he did just come to your defense. 

Blue-eyes is more stupid then he looks and doesn’t read the very obvious threat Mando poses. Instead he doubles down and tightens his grip on you. “Oh yeah? And what are you going to do about it, old man?”

You can't say you're surprised when Mando punches him in the face instead of answering the question. You also can’t say that you feel bad about it either. The surprise and hurt of the sudden punch makes Blue-eyes release his grip on you, giving you enough time to move out of the way as Mando moves in. Mando grabs a fistful of Blue-eyes' shirt and pulls the guy in towards his face. 

“Do you regret it?” Mando grits out. Blue-eyes sputters something that sounds like an apology and pushes himself away. 

Satisfied, Mando now turns on you. You were right, he's pissed. His typically soft, warm eyes are hard on you now as he pulls you away.

You flounder to tell him you haven't paid for your drink but he just ignores you, dragging you out of the bar. If you were smarter, you would think to be a little scared about making a man like Mando mad at you. Instead, your thoughts are occupied with how he's barely even trying to overpower you and yet you couldn't break free of his grip if you tried. You wonder if there's something wrong with you for how much it's turning you on.

Arriving back at the truck, Mando releases his grip. "Get in," he demands.

You do as you're told and climb into the passenger seat as Mando goes around. Nerves finally settle in. Mando would never hurt you, you know that, but he could decide to ditch you somewhere. Whatever this situation is with him, it's far from formal. He has no obligation to you and could easily choose to end it. With the trouble you’ve just caused, you wouldn’t be surprised if this all comes to a swift and sudden end.

As Mando climbs into the cab, you stare down at the floorboards, terrified that he's going to tell you he's dropping you off somewhere and leaving you behind for good. You can't imagine your life without him now. There's nowhere for you to go, nothing for you to do without him. Right back to square one.

He doesn't speak right away, which only makes you more nervous. He peels the truck out of the parking lot, headed back in the direction you came from. You still don't look at him. It's obvious you fucked up and there's nothing you can really say to fix that. Your only hope is that he forgives you.

You're headed back through the small nearby town when he finally speaks. “I told you to stay in the truck.”

You don’t say anything in response. Anything you can come up with sounds childish in your head. The exact opposite of what you'd been trying to prove. Thankfully, Mando takes your silence as an answer.

“Why would you even do something like that? Do you know how stupid that was?” His hands are tight on the wheel, glancing between you and the road as he yells.

You mumble back to him. 

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“He called me sweetheart,” you say a little louder.

“What?” He isn't going to let you off the hook with this and it gets under your skin. Some part of you thought he might be proud of you for smacking that creep and here he is berating you for it.

“He called me sweetheart, alright?” you half-shout.

Mando gives you a confused look, clearly not the answer he was expecting. “Do you- do you have a problem with that?” The heat is still present in his voice, but you can hear a little worry in it now. Shit. This is not what you wanted out of this whole ordeal.

You've never wanted the ground to come up and swallow you more. Why didn’t you just say that you smacked him for touching you? That would have been simple. How do you answer this without making everything weird? No, Mando, I don’t have a problem with that. I smacked him because I only like it when you call me that. Sure. That won’t be weird or awkward at all. 

After cursing yourself for a few seconds, you manage a response. “No, I- I just didn’t like it when he said it.”

"Oh." That's Mando's only reply.

You know he's still angry about you coming into the bar, but apparently your answer has sidelined him. If it wasn't so embarrassing, you might even be rejoicing at his reaction. Instead you just feel like a fool.

The silence remains as you pull into a little local motel with the vacancy sign lit up. Mando hands you forty dollars, way more than you need, and tells you to get a room.

Okay. So he isn't getting rid of you… yet.

You barely even listen to the attendant as they tell you they only have one single available for the night. Now is not the time to be arguing about sleeping arrangements. You take the key, room 104, and make your way back to the truck. 

You grab your bag from the flatbed and let Mando know the room number. He nods and goes to pull the truck around. You kick yourself as you walk over to the room. Why didn’t you just stay in the truck? Why didn’t you just lie to Mando about your reasons? He’s smart and it won’t take long now for him to put two and two together. Especially if he asks anymore questions.

You have no idea how Mando might react. If learning about your feelings towards him combined with what happened in the bar might be enough to leave you. He’s certainly not cold with you, but you’re not sure you’d call any of his actions romantic either. Holding your hand after the diner today is the closest he’s ever come. You wish you knew what that meant to him. You know what it meant to you.

Mando parks the truck outside of the room as you unlock the door. It’s not a fancy room, just one big square with a bathroom attached. There’s a full bed, a dresser with a TV on it, and a small table with a couple chairs. You toss your bag on the table and sit down on the edge of the bed. There’s no point in pretending you aren’t upset, Mando can always see through your lies. Might as well just get this over with.

Nervous, you hide your face in your hands, leaning forward with your elbows on your knees. You’re ready to deal with it, but not while actually looking at him. You can’t handle seeing his face as he figures things out; the way he might look at you while he rejects you. Suddenly you feel a wave of sympathy for the waitress earlier today. You hope Mando will let you down easy like he did for her.

You don’t look up when Mando comes into the room. His boots enter your line of vision and you close your eyes. You can’t look at any part of him right now. It’s too painful.

Mando says your name softly and you can sense as he kneels down in front of you. You don’t reply. Gently, he moves your hands away from your face. You still refuse to look at him and he cups your chin, lifting your head up to his.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” You wish you could resist, but you can’t. Not when he speaks to you in that soft tone. Not when he calls you that.

You meet his eye and see all the concern and worry he holds there. “I’m sorry, Mando. I should have listened to you.”

His hand slides up to hold your cheek. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you that way. I could have at least told you why I didn’t want you coming in with me.”

You’re surprised at his apology. Two apologies he didn’t need to make in one day. This isn’t something you ever expected. You assumed he would still be full of heat and anger, not this careful kindness.

“Why didn’t you want me to come in?” you ask. You need to know the reason, need to know why it is he told you to stay behind. No matter how much the reason might hurt.

Mando sighs. “I didn’t want you to come in because I didn’t want anyone else looking at you.”

You pull back out of shock. “What?” Did you hear that correctly? Could that mean what you thought it might?

He takes off his baseball cap and runs a hand through his hair. “What can I say, sweetheart? I’m a jealous man.”

A thousand thoughts run through your mind. There are so many things you want to say, so many questions you want to ask, and yet none of them can find their way out. As a result, you do the only thing you can.

You lean in towards him, slowly, giving him enough time to stop you if he so chooses. He doesn’t though, instead following your lead and moving in closer. You carefully search his eyes for any answers they may hold. Your noses bump and you both pause. “Mando, I-”

He cuts you off. “Din. My name is Din.”

You close the gap and kiss him. The kiss is careful at first, as though you’re both still looking to confirm that yes, this is what you both want. Mand- Din’s lips are soft and sweet against yours and you melt as it’s everything you could have imagined and more. A small moan escapes you, one that you’re embarrassed about until it causes Din to deepen the kiss. Caution evaporates, quickly turning into passion as your tongues meet.

Din moves, getting up from the floor and pushing you back against the bed. His lips never leave yours, devouring you as though you might slip away at any moment. He gives your bottom lip a small nip, quickly soothing it with his tongue. You pull away, needing a moment to catch your breath.

“Is this okay?” Din asks, his voice low with desire. You respond by pulling him back down into another bruising kiss. Your positions shift as the kiss continues, Din’s knee finding its way between your legs as his arms wrap around you. Both of your hands have worked their way into his hair, something you’ve been fantasizing about for months now.

Din begins to kiss his way down your neck, leaving little love bites along the way. You gently tug on his hair, pulling a heavenly sound from him that only intensifies your pool of desire. Desperate for more, you move a hand down, seeking the hem of his shirt and slipping your hand underneath. His skin feels remarkable under your fingertips.

Din pulls away from your neck and quickly divests himself of his shirt. He allows you a moment to take him in, his lean physique flexing as he holds himself above you. Scars litter his body in various shapes and sizes, but you think they look beautiful against the glow of his honeyed skin. 

Taking the opportunity, you remove your top as well, leaving you in your basic everyday bra. You wish you had worn your other bra, the sexier one, but with the way Din is looking at you, you’re not sure it matters. His lips return to your body, working his way across any and all of your newly exposed skin. One hand splays on your waist, holding you, grounding Din against you.

“You’re so soft, sweetheart,” Din murmurs against you. His lips find their way up to your chest, placing careful kisses against the globes of your breasts. He pauses and looks up at you, seeking your permission. You arch your back, allowing Din access to slip a hand beneath you and undo the clasp.

He pulls the bra away from you and you flush under the intensity of his gaze. “Perfect, you’re perfect,” Din says before reoccupying his mouth with your breasts. It seems that he has a real oral fixation, not that you mind in the slightest. His warm mouth feels heavenly against you, licking and sucking wherever he can.

Din takes one of your nipples into his mouth, his fingers playing with the other. It’s the best thing you’ve felt in months, better than any of your late night fantasies when you would try to satisfy your growing want for the man currently giving you so much pleasure. As though your attempts could ever come close to the real thing.

Din releases your nipple with a pop and returns to your mouth, licking his way inside. His kiss alone is enough to make you see stars. It makes you forget any other kiss you’ve ever shared, enveloping you in him and him alone.

You pull back slightly from the kiss, unable to take more without further relief. “Din, please, I want you,” you pant into his mouth. Din growls, actually growls, at your words. It's a far hotter response than it should be.

“Yeah, sweetheart? What do you want me to do to you? Tell me.” His knee comes up and presses his thigh against you where you want him most, causing you to moan out his name. “Use your words, sweet girl.”

He’s trying to kill you, you think. Calling you a name like that. Sweet girl. It loops in your mind until Din’s fingers ghost over your nipples again. “I want you to touch me,” you tell him.

“I’m already touching you,” Din says. He’s a tease, you think, growing slightly frustrated with him. His thigh moves against you again though and he’s immediately forgiven.

“Please, Din,” you whine, hoping he’ll take pity on you. Thankfully he does, moving his leg away and quickly removing your pants. You already know you’re soaking, your panties feeling cold against you with the loss of the other cloth barrier.

Din pauses for another moment to take you in before moving. You’re nearly bare before him, almost entirely on display. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he compliments, his hands parting your thighs. “So perfect, so beautiful, and all mine.” You can feel yourself clench at his words. No one has ever made you feel this way before. His stare only relaxes you more, his words feeling like a warm blanket wrapping around your fears and quieting them.

Din’s fingers brush against you through the thin cotton. “Is this all for me, sweetheart? I can already feel how wet you are.”

He continues to tease you, only leaving you capable of nodding your head back at him. His eyes catch yours, watching your reaction as he pushes the near useless fabric off to the side and pushes one finger between your folds. Just the small touch sets you aflame, pushing yourself down onto his hand, wanting more. 

His finger leaves you and you frown until you watch as he brings it to his mouth and licks your slick off of it. Din moans at the taste. “You taste better than you do in my dreams.”

He leans down to kiss you, sharing the taste of yourself while he pulls your panties off completely. They’re thrown haphazardly into the room, lost to be found for later. 

Din then moves himself between your legs, slowly working kisses down your body as he slides back onto his knees on the floor. He grabs your waist and pulls you to the edge of the bed with ease and starts nipping and kissing your inner thighs. Your hands wind back into his hair, while you lie in disbelief that this is really happening right now.

Gentle kisses are placed along your folds, Din moving back as you try to grind your hips down onto him. His eyes catch yours again, mouth hovering over your clit as he speaks. “I’m going to taste you until you cum on my face and then I’m going to fuck you, okay?”

This time you manage a response, frantic to let him know that’s exactly what you want. “Yes, please, I want you so badly, Din.”

It’s all he needs to hear. His mouth comes down on your clit, carefully playing with the bundle of nerves, making you cry out and clench around nothing. He pulls away slightly and then licks a long stripe from bottom to top, pausing again at your clit to give it a teasing suck. Your hands pull at his hair from the attention.

He moves back down, teasing your entrance with his mouth. He moans, lapping up your pussy, acting every part a man dying of thirst who’s found oasis at your core. You buck into him and his hands quickly wrap around your legs, holding your hips in place. Din wants to pleasure you, but on his own terms, at his own speed.

You can’t make a coherent thought as he continues to eat you out. Small snippets of words make their way out of you, none of them making any real sense in conjunction with one another. It’s not until his thumb finds your clit as he continues to lick, suck, and nip at you that you find complete words to shout. “Din, oh god, yes, right there, I’m so close...”

Moments later you feel the tension within you snap, crying out as your body shakes from the overwhelming pleasure. Din continues to work you through your orgasm, only stopping when you physically push his head away from you. He trails hot kisses along your inner thighs again, telling you how beautiful you are, how good you taste, how perfect your pussy is.

As you come down from your high, Din removes the last of his clothes, finally freeing his stiff erection. Your breath catches as you take him in, your Adonis in the flesh. He’s gorgeous, you think, wondering what you did to get so lucky.

Then he’s back over top of you, kissing and sucking at your skin. Some of those are bound to leave marks for tomorrow but you don’t mind. You want everyone to see, for everyone to know that you’re his. No more mistaken assumptions about your relationship, you want it on display for the world.

You look down to catch a better glimpse of his cock, satiating the curiosity that’s plagued you for so long. He’s big. More than enough to fill you, possibly even more than you can handle. As wet as you are, you know you’ll need him to go slow, to slowly stretch you out before he can truly fuck you.

You tilt your hips, bumping against him, letting him know that you want him. “Do you want my fingers first?” Din asks. You know you should say yes, but you can’t imagine another moment without knowing what he feels like inside of you.

“No,” you tell him. “Just go slow.”

Din places a quick searing kiss against your lips and positions himself. The head of his cock presses against your slick entrance and you feel like you’re already seeing stars. Din is muttering in your ear, holding you tightly against him as he pushes into you.

“Fuck, you feel so good sweetheart. So tight and wet for me. I can’t wait to fill you up, to feel every inch of your sweet pussy.”

You nearly forget to breath as he slowly pushes in further. You can feel every inch of him and you only want more. Din’s stream of compliments are interrupted when he finally bottoms out in you, holding himself still as your walls clench and stretch around him. “Fuck, sweetheart.”

You turn your head and pull him into a blazing kiss, loving the way he feels filling you up. You wonder how you were ever satisfied with your fingers before when this had been next to you for so long. Din is apparently thinking along the same lines, whispering to you, “I’d have done this long ago if I knew you felt this good.”

You don’t even have time to consider the words as he slowly begins to move in you. The pleasure borders on agonizing as you begin to move your hips, encouraging him to move faster. Din responds quickly to your urging, setting a furious pace as he begins to lose all control. You know you’ll still be feeling him tomorrow and the thought makes you smile. You never want to go another day without a reminder of how he feels.

His thumb returns to your clit and you don’t have time to warn him before you’re thrown into another orgasm. Your walls clench around him and you lose yourself in the feeling of cumming on his cock. Din quickly follows, pulling out of you just in time to paint your stomach with ropes of his spend. You mourn the loss of him, but once Din finishes he buries himself back inside of you, causing another shock of pleasure to zing through your body.

Din rolls the both of you over, keeping himself sheathed in you, and allowing you to collapse on top of him. You’re both sweaty and panting, trying to come up with words. Din’s fingers lightly trace along your back, causing goosebumps to erupt across your flesh. You lift your head up from his chest in order to look at his face.

He’s completely debauched, sweat causing hair to cling to his forehead, the rest completely wild from your hands. His eyes are still blown wide, happily looking back at you. His lips are pink and swollen from all the kisses and licks he’s pressed into your skin. You know you can’t look much better than him.

You give a small clench around him and smile at the expression that runs across Din’s face. “I love the way you fill me,” you tell him. Din presses a loving kiss against your sweaty forehead.

“I never want to leave this perfect pussy of yours.” You can tell he means it too. If he could, he would stay buried in you forever. You love the way that sounds. His eyes flutter closed, reveling in the feeling of having you surround him.

“Din,” you say.

His eyes pop back open and refocus on you. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

A smile blooms across your face. “Nothing, I just wanted to say it. Din. It suits you.” 

His name suits him in a different way than Mando does. Mando is the rough exterior, the front he puts up to the world. The one who punches men in bars for touching you and calling you pet names. The one that strikes fear into others, knowing that if he’s hot on their trail that they’re screwed. Din is the soft inside, the place where all of his ‘sweethearts’ originate, the cause for the hand holding and sparkling smiles. The man behind the armor that he presents to the world, the one who kisses and fills you up just right.

Din’s arms wrap around you tightly, clearly intent on never letting you go. You’re fine with that, letting it sink in that you’re finally laying in bed with the man who’s consumed your thoughts for months. A small, joyous giggle escapes you.

“What’s so funny?” Din asks.

“I thought you were going to leave me earlier. Now here I am, laying on top of you with your cock still inside of me.”

Din chuckles and you can feel it rumble in his chest. “I’m never letting you go sweetheart, no matter how much you piss me off.”

You fold your arms across his chest, letting your chin rest on your hands. “I am sorry. I just wanted you to notice me. I felt like you were treating me like a child,” you confess.

Din’s eyes widen a bit at your admission. “I always notice you, mesh’la. I never meant to treat you that way. I only want to keep you safe.”

“I know that now. Honestly, I feel so silly about it all.” He reaches up and pushes a strand of hair back from your face. 

“Next time, I’ll take you in with me. I’ll show everyone that you’re mine.” He grinds his hips up into you to prove his point. It makes you squeal, causing a smirk to settle on Din’s lips. You give his cheek a small flick in retaliation but make no attempt to move.

You lay there for a little while longer, laying your head back down against Din’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat beneath you. His hands trace anywhere he can touch on you, intoxicated by having you so close against him. Eventually though, you feel the call to use the bathroom and can no longer ignore it.

Din is almost painful sliding out of you, but you’re more upset about the loss of having him buried in you. Your legs are shaky as you stand, managing to make it to the bathroom on wobbly knees. You take a moment to clean yourself up, running a damp cloth across your body. Exhaustion hits as you return to bed, crawling under the covers and into Din’s arms.

You begin to drift off when Din asks, “Why’d you get a single? Not that I’m complaining.”

“All they had left. Maybe it was a sign,” you mumble back.

Din chuckles and presses a kiss against your head. “Yeah, maybe, sweetheart.”

[chasingpj]

𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

“Buen provecho, mijo.”

pairing: leo valdez x gn reader

requested?: yes!

warnings: a little angsty, discussing the death of a parent

category: fluff, one-shot, a slice of life

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts forever. i'm so excited to finally have it posted and i hope you guys like it!

Leo’s shivering body is engulfed in a soft duvet until the crown of his head. His brown curls sprawled on the stark white cloth are the only evidence of his presence, the sheets swallowing his body so well that it appears to be stacked messily and not holding a groggy Leo.

Despite your protests of wrapping himself up like this, he couldn’t help it. The chills that came with his fever were too much to ignore, which says a lot; Leo’s rarely cold. You’d be able to keep him warm, he considers, and there’s a deep urge to hold your frame against him. With a weak groan, he shifts in the tunnel of sheets.

Stupid Flu.

The last thing he’d want is to get you sick. Having your shared bed all to himself for the past few days as he persists through the discomfort of illness has been lonely. At first, it was a little fun. Getting a break from your occasional kicks and shifts that would wake him up throughout the night was nice, but he began to miss it after a while. Those pesky sleepy habits were worth it as they came with the comfort of your presence, the sweet scent of your body, and the softness of your skin. He ached at the absence of your company even though you were literally in the next room over.

He wondered what you could be doing having that this ache for you isn’t a new occurrence. Just a few minutes ago, he had called your name only to receive a “one second!”

So he waited, and well, it’s been much longer than a second.

As if he summoned you with his thoughts, the creaking of the door hinges catches his attention, drawing a soft hum from Leo’s lips. Feeling too weak to lift his head, he instead tugs down the duvet just enough to reveal his puppy brown eyes that sag with fatigue. “Lee, I have a surprise for you.” The ringing sound of your sweet voice makes his mouth curl up in a smile. Leo furrows his eyebrows, eyes averting from your pretty face as he notices your hands are hiding behind your back. “What is it, cariño?” He croaks, flinching at the dull soreness in his muscles as he pulls himself up to rest against the headboard.

“Close your eyes,” you demand with a giddy tone, and Leo complies with a short laugh. “Don’t peek!” A clinging of metal follows the sounds of pattering footsteps and a giggle of excitement before he receives the okay to open his eyes again.

Through thick eyelashes, he's met with stretched-out arms, presenting a deep blue bowl of soup on your palms. “It’s Caldo de Pollo!” The nostalgic aroma hits his senses the moment you confess what it is. He leans in, getting a better view of chunks of potato, carrots, corn, and chicken that peek through an orange broth. The sight makes his mouth water, and to your surprise, his eyes too.

The dish reminded him so much of his mother. Suddenly, he was a kid again. His small eyes watch Esperanza place a bowl filled to the rim of the familiar dish on the table in front of him.

“Buen provecho, mijo.”

Leo grinned, revealing the gaps of teeth that haven’t grown in yet. "Gracias Mama," he chimed, swinging his stubby legs in his chair. For a second, there is a look of caution across his mother’s face as Leo picks up his spoon and shovels the soup into his mouth. But as it becomes clear that neither the hot liquid nor the sweltering heat of the day bothered him, she relaxes and settles in the chair across from him.

His mother’s eyes filled with adoration, a soft giggle comes from her lips as Leo, too hungry to care, has dampened his shirt in the midst of eating. In his memory, the image of her is hazy, but he can make out the rosy tint on her lips as she smiles at him, her long nose, her silky hair that's usually pulled up in a ponytail, cascading over her shoulders.

The memory is more vivid than any of his dreams. He could make out the glow of the setting sun from the curtains. Under his forearms, he could feel the stickiness of the plastic cover over the table cloth. Every detail of his childhood home was exactly where he remembered it.

One of Leo’s biggest fears is that one day he’d forget his mother’s face, her voice, the little memories he had of her. Already, day by day, the recalling of his mother’s comforting scent becomes weaker. Sometimes, he’d get a whiff of it when he’s on a quest or when he’s alone. He’d like to think that those moments meant that his mother was watching over him, that she truly wasn’t all gone.

Though this soup, the one you’ve presented in your arms, confirmed that the remaining pieces of her existence didn’t solely live in his memory but in everything. She lives in the stars that she was always so fond of. She lives in the Tejano music she used to sing along to when she worked or cleaned. She lived in the running engine of everything he’d ever created. She lives in this soup, the same soup she made him when he was sick or often, to his dismay, in the middle of the summer.

He never needed a moment to freeze in time to remember all that was his mother.

Leo’s eyes glisten with tears. The silence, the bleakness of his expression, made you look down at the soup yourself. You didn’t think your soup looked bad at all, especially not bad enough to bring Leo near tears. You even plated it nicely, garnishing the soup with cilantro and a lime wedge.

"Is it wrong? Bad? I had to look up the recipe, and I-"

"No, no. It's just- it reminds me of my mom." He smiles sadly at you, and you frown, taking a seat beside him on the bed. His expression softens, eyes studying your face. What did he do to get so lucky? "You made this for me?"

You nod. "I thought I should make you soup since you're feeling so sick today." You balance the bottom of the bowl in one hand as the other reaches over, pressing the backside against his forehead. A tsk leaves your lips; the heat radiating off of Leo's forehead was much warmer than usual. "I was looking at soup recipes, and I came across a recipe for Caldo de Pollo. Try it; I think you'll like it!"

Leo reaches over with weak hands, grasping the bowl of soup before bringing it to his chest. He leans in to take in the aromas.

“I didn’t poison it,” you joke. A watery laugh comes from Leo, the vibrations sending a few tears down his cheeks. Your stomach flutters at the sound, but your heart aches at the sight of his tears. You hated seeing him cry. Your thumbs gently wipe away the stray tears on his face as he admires you. “I don’t know. I’ve seen you burn a lot of things in the past couple of years,” he teases. You cross your arms over your chest, not having enough times when you didn’t burn any food to defend yourself so you wave him off.

“Whatever,” you huff playfully. Leo chuckles as he brings the spoon full of broth up to his lips, and you shift in your place. You’re filled with anticipation, hoping that the recipe was authentic enough. “How is it?”

The flavors of the soup are almost the same as his mother’s, and he hums, a soft sigh of satisfaction leaves his lips.

“It’s amazing, mi amor.” The pet name you love rolls off his tongue slow and smooth. You sit up proudly at the praise, taking in Leo’s lovestruck expression. Before you know it, the other leans in for a kiss, and you scrunch your face. A scoff of playful offense leaves Leo’s lips.

“Why would you kiss me?” Leo whines with a cute pout. As much as you want to kiss him, you knew you shouldn't. “You’re sick,” you remind him, and he dramatically sits back against the wall, playing with his spoon.

“Kiss me, and then we can be sick together.” Leo wiggles his eyebrows, trying to convince you with a smile that drops the moment you shake your head.

“No way. Keep your cooties to yourself.” To your surprise, Leo sticks his tongue out at you. The action makes you snort as you rise from the bed. “I won’t kiss you, but I’ll sit and eat with you.” Leo shrugs, the solution is not as satisfying as a kiss, but he’ll settle with spending time with you. With a nod from him, he watches as you disappear past the doorway to get your bowl of soup.

In your absence, he takes a few more sips, the memory of his mother flickering in his mind. There’s a familiar gloominess that lingers at the fact that he will never be able to hug his mom or see her face again but being aware that her presence will always remain brings a sense of closure that Leo didn’t know he needed.

In his darkest hours, there was always a glimmer of hope that kept him moving forward. There was always a feeling that things would get better in time. This dull light, the voice that told him to pick himself back up, perhaps, it was his mother being true to her namesake all along.

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