#It's just been a blur of repetitive days full of either complete empty neutrality or anxiety

[some-pers0n]

How to explain to everyone that I feel a lack of drive and motivation and general apathy to my future because I don't feel generally excited and have a complete lack of interest in anything

[kurtstinypurse]

nothing but a senseless babble (klaine mini-fic)

so from how this week has gone, I ended up craving the chance to write something soft and fun. I have a list of the prompts I still haven’t filled, and I decided to use one of those and see what I could come up with! here’s a “ways to say I love you” mini-fic, prompted by @porcelainandthehobbit once upon a time.

also, thank you to the best @hippohead I know for convincing me this was worth writing & for always always being so so supportive :’) 

I hope a little escape of something sweet is even close to as good for some of you as it was for me <3

“No, Kurt. You’re going to have to cut it down. Your closet at school isn’t even going to fit half of what’s in that pile, and I am not giving you any room in mine.”

“But-”

“No!” Blaine interjects right away, exasperated at the sight of the veritable mountain of clothes in Kurt’s Bring to New York bin. By comparison, his Keep at Home box is sparse, Donate essentially empty. “Do you remember the tiny shoebox of a dorm room we’re going to be living in? Not to mention the sorry excuses of closets? We don’t have room.”

They’re going to be cramped enough as it is, inevitably at each other’s throats more often than not, being forced to share a space with room enough for two beds, two desks, and two dressers, but not much else. The model rooms on NYU’s housing website looked small enough, but Blaine has a suspicion the freshman dorms are even tinier, even older, even less comfortable.

But it’ll be worth it.

He really is looking forward to living with Kurt, to the endless opportunities for sleepovers and movie nights, study sessions and late night dance parties. They’re going to have exactly what they’ve more or less dreamed of for the better part of their friendship, since they were little kids, and it’s going to be awesome. He knows it.

But he isn’t looking forward to living with all of Kurt’s clothes and scarves and accessories and shoes and everything else.

“Yes,” Kurt huffs, folding his arms across his chest and lifting a petulant eyebrow in Blaine’s direction. “But I also remember that you didn’t exactly ‘cut down’ on any of your bowties when we packed your stuff.”

His voice is dripping with sarcasm, and then he uncrosses his arms to offer mocking air quotes to emphasize how ridiculous Blaine’s idea is - cut down? Yeah right.

It makes Blaine feel nothing but defensive, annoyance bubbling in his belly, magnified by the exhaustion from packing their stuff for the third day in a row, by his nerves about moving halfway across the country, by his fears of it all not working out how he’s hoped for so long.

Defending himself is easier than confronting all of that - and so he does.

“Bowties are tiny! Your clothes are-”

“Are you saying I’m large, Blaine?” 

“No! You’re perfectly in shape and you know it. I just meant-”

“Ooooh, you think I’m perfectly in shape?”

Kurt is fully taunting him now, grinning widely in that way where his eyes crinkle at the corners and his teeth barely peek out from the stretch of his lips, and it catches Blaine off guard, throws him for a loop as he realizes what he’s just said, too.

What it implies.

Blaine has noticed Kurt, obviously. He’s noticed him often, but of course he has - Blaine is gay, and Kurt is attractive and Kurt is right there, and it’s only natural.

He rarely lets himself acknowledge it in his own head, though, let alone out loud.

Let alone to Kurt.

“I- You-” Blaine stutters, gapes, finally manages to recover. “Stop being ridiculous, Kurt! You’re deflecting. Just- Cut your clothes down!”

“You love it,” Kurt insists, shoving the folded clothes between them to either side, scooting forward on the floor until they’re sitting right in front of each other, cross-legged, knees just shy of touching. “You love me.”

Of course he does. Of course he loves Kurt, loves how Kurt riles him up and makes him feel safe all at once, loves when they get like this and loves their comfortable silences, too, loves how his friendship with Kurt is everything and always has been everything, hopefully always will be.

But-

“No. You’re ridiculous, like I said.”

He isn’t ready to give it up.

“What- You don’t love me?” Kurt gasps dramatically, his hand thrown over his heart. “Your best friend of- god, nearly a decade? Your future roommate? Your-”

“Nope!” Blaine cuts in, biting back a grin, realizing he’s somehow become amused along the way instead of annoyed, feeling competitive now instead of irritated. “You’re ridiculous, and I hate you.”

Kurt narrows his eyes into a glare that usually sends a shiver down Blaine’s spine - but tonight, it only invigorates him, makes him want to dig into this deeper, see how far he can take it before one of them breaks.

Actually, before Kurt breaks. Because it won’t be Blaine.

Not tonight.

“You love me,” Kurt insists, his voice low, almost threatening, nearly chilling, and he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, nearly close enough for Blaine’s vision to blur as he attempts to hold eye contact. “Tell me you love me.”

He’s pulling out all the stops.

Almost all the stops.

“No.” 

Blaine stays steady, schooling his face into a neutral expression, but he knows what’s next. They’ve been here before, testing each other, rapidly approaching a stalemate. Over the years, it’s evolved from bickering over what game to play to this, something much more loaded, full of the unsaid and the unacknowledged, never referenced outside of these moments, quiet lines never crossed, boundaries never pushed past the point of no return. 

He isn’t sure why he still bothers standing his ground, still bothers trying, because if he makes it this far, there’s only one way it ever ends, time and time again.

There’s one more of Blaine’s buttons that Kurt knows exactly how to push, one more thing that Kurt always uses as a last resort to get his way.

It should be predictable. Blaine should be ready for it.

He should harness the telltale glint in Kurt’s eyes, use it to brace himself, but instead, it just makes him freeze.

It gets him every time. It works every time, this now isn’t any different.

Kurt rears back, and he pounces.

Blaine vaguely registers the sound of a yelp that he feels ripping through his own throat, but he’s too focused on falling backwards and not hitting his head against the hardwood floor to be embarrassed of or even control the noises he’s making. He manages to land instead on a rogue pile of Kurt’s clothes-

And then he’s laser focused on the feeling of Kurt on top of him, lording over him, his impossibly quick fingers tickling Blaine’s sides, making him squirm, thrash, defenseless - and making him laugh, too, deep from the pit of his belly, his body shaking with the force of it.

“Tell! Me!” Kurt insists in the midst of his own peals of laughter, and it’s like his hands are everywhere, up to Blaine’s armpits and back down again, over his stomach, his arms, his chest, hitting all of his most ticklish spots without giving a second for mercy. 

It’s funny, and it hurts, and Blaine feels utterly hysterical with the childishness of it all, with Kurt straddling him, above him, consuming him, stealing the breaths right out of his chest, overwhelming and overly stimulating and-

“Fine! F-Fine, okay, I-” 

He almost breaks - wants to break, to make it stop - but he can’t get enough of the words out to forfeit. 

“You what, Blaine? You what?” Kurt eggs him on with a grin, leaning in closer, lowering his body down nearer to Blaine’s, a mere inch or two away from holding him down completely. It gives him better leverage - Blaine can tell based on the way Kurt’s fingers speed up, dig deeper, and the determination in Kurt’s eyes, steel blue ferocity.

He’s entirely ruthless.

Blaine squirms, arms flailing in search of a chance to push Kurt off, not finding it, hands grasping in the air, at the clothes on the floor, at Kurt, in a desperate search for purchase, but he can’t find that, either.

There’s only one thing left to do, and he musters all the air in his lungs to do it.

“I love you!” he finally gasps out, voice shaking with uncontrollable laughs, feeling completely wild and unhinged. “I love you, please, I love you, I love you-”

His voice chokes, dies in his throat, cutting off his near-senseless babble of a repetition when his eyes meet Kurt’s, and he finds a sort of intensity he’s never seen before, not from Kurt, not directed at him.

They stop moving at the same time.

They stop laughing at the same time.

They stop breathing at the same time.

Kurt is raised up on his hands now, bracketing either side of Blaine’s head, and he’s staring down at Blaine with flushed cheeks, wide eyes, parted lips, hair mussed and messy, so devastatingly gorgeous and so magnetic in a way that’s startlingly new. 

Blaine feels flushed, hot with the culmination of every touch and every breath since his back landed against the floor, and he isn’t sure when it all changed. 

He isn’t sure when they went from the way they’ve always been to this.

He can’t move, can’t look away. In the past frozen moments he’s gotten lost in Kurt's eyes, and now he’s stuck there, swimming in the pools of blue and green and gray, all there is.

“I love you,” he whispers again, feeling like he’s saying it for the very first time, the words holding a different weight on his tongue and shaping differently in his mouth, too, in his chest, in his bloodstream.

But there’s nothing else to say.

Kurt’s elbows buckle, and his fingers twine for a desperate hold through Blaine’s hair, and they’re kissing.

They’re kissing.

It’s deep and it’s hungry right from the start, nothing like the few tentative kisses Blaine has shared with a few tentative crushes in the past, nothing like what he thought kissing Kurt would be like.

Because, yes, he’s thought of this. He’s caught himself staring at Kurt’s mouth before, watching as Kurt absentmindedly sucks at his bottom lip while he studies, watching as Kurt sips from his designated straw in the milkshakes they share at their favorite diner, watching as Kurt nibbles the chocolate off of his biscotti at the Lima Bean. And he’s caught his mind drifting there, too, when he’s laying in bed at night, wanting.

Wanting.

But Blaine has never identified it as anything but his curiosities latching themselves onto the person closest to him. He’s never considered that the low, twisting coil that forms in his belly when Kurt locks eyes with him across the choir room and makes him feel like he’s the only person in the building could mean something more. He’s never paid much mind to the lift of his heart when Kurt touches him, to the fact that they both always seek out little excuses to stay close and to hug and to brush and to lean, to the strangeness of these teasing tests that they give each other, to what it all points towards.

He’s never considered that the way Kurt is the first thing on his mind every morning and the last thing every night could mean something, either, but that’s because it’s just how it’s always been, from the time they were children.

But maybe wanting Kurt, needing Kurt, loving Kurt is just how it’s always been, too.

And that’s why it doesn’t feel like a first kiss - because it isn’t, not really. There’s no hesitation to it, no question in the movements of their mouths or their hands or their bodies.

The testing has already been done.

It makes it easy for Blaine to reach and to grab, one hand grasping Kurt’s hip, rubbing his thumb in insistent circles at his hip bone, through his shirt, the other sliding up Kurt’s chest slowly, coming to cup his face, holding him close, holding him right where he is. It makes it easy for Blaine to plunge into the depths of their kiss, working Kurt’s mouth open with his tongue and then inside, tasting, learning, searching, finding.

It makes it easy for Blaine to allow himself to feel, to revel in the swirls of heat that form under his skin and thrum there with an energy that becomes addictive right away, every nerve ending in his body alert, awake, responding to every part of Kurt, too.

When they finally come up for air, parting just enough to breathe again, their foreheads leaned together, Kurt’s body now settled fully against Blaine’s with a weight that soothes him and ignites him all at once, there’s no panic, no embarrassment, no apology, no takebacks.

No explanation, because there doesn’t need to be one.

The moment holds them tenderly, allows Blaine the opportunity to resurface, to come into his senses and into his body again, settling into this newly awakened iteration of himself and of them, but it doesn’t take long.

This is him. This is them. 

And of all the changes they’re about to face together, from moving halfway across the country to learning how to navigate a new city to leaving everything but each other behind, this feels like the easiest one, already perfectly known, perfectly understood, fully formed and solid and unshakeable.

It almost doesn’t feel like a change at all.

When Blaine’s eyes flutter open, he finds Kurt’s already open, gazing down at him with a fondness that makes his breath catch, so close that Blaine’s vision blurs all over again as he attempts to focus, but the circumstances are all different now, slow instead of fast, purposeful instead of hysterical, building something together full of meaning and gravity instead of butting heads just for the sake of it.

He wants to stay here forever, laying in the clutter of all Kurt’s belongings, anchored by the literal weight of Kurt on top of him and of the feelings inside of him, too, the ones he finally has a name for, all slotted into place. 

“I love you,” Kurt murmurs, and warmth blooms like flowers in Blaine’s chest, threading him into the garden of Kurt’s words and his touches and the tenderness in his eyes, each and every bit of them blossoms of meaning and of intention and possibility.

“I love you, too,” Blaine whispers, cranes his neck up just enough to kiss Kurt all over again, and it’s all they need.

They both know what it means.

[iwriteforthetincanman]

Mandoctover Day 15: Jetpack

WOAHHHHH WE’RE HALFWAY THERE OHHHHHHH LIVIN’ ON A PRAYER!

(or alt. livin’ on pedro’s Din Hair~)

ALSO GENDER NEUTRAL READER BROUGHT TO YOU BY @kiwi-the-first

@dindjarindiaries @leo-moon

Warnings of physical harm, mild to severe concussion (up to you but Din’s basically drunk on pain meds) Also there is a hetero couple in this that I LOOSELY based off of my high-school music teachers but oh well. 

(I had to use this gif, I know it’s not a Frankie fic but you’ll get it once you’ve read it XD) Somedays you thanked both the Maker and the Armorer for Din’s jetpack. 

Today...wasn’t one of those days, if this morning was any sort of example.

Firstly Din had grabbed you with no warning whatsoever, picked you up like you were a ragdoll, and to top it off, he thought it was okay for him to launch into the air with you completely unaware of the complications of flying.

Y’know...with no armor on to cushion your breakable body.

Maybe he knew this in the back of his mind. But his carelessness towards the situation pissed you off more than you cared to admit. 

That all came crashing down when he shielded your body with his against a crumbling mountainside. 

Tearing recklessly through the rubble you screamed his name until your throat was scratchy. When you could no longer speak let alone shout, tears blurred your vision. Rubble, boulders and stone. You didn’t know how much longer he would be okay for...he didn’t know your true feelings for him, romantic or otherwise. You couldn’t do this alone. 

That’s when you heard him rasp against the stone destruction.

“Cyare-” 

This time you were crying in happiness, hope yet the searing pain was still there as you could only just make out the outline of his visor. It was cracked in some places. You hoped he had suffered any brain damage...thank the gods, at least he recognised you.

“Mando! Din! Are you okay? Can you hear me?” You shouted quietly this time. Not wanting to bring any unwanted attention back to yourselves. You were both running out of time. 

Din was in no shape to use his jetpack...or to fly the Crest.

Which meant only one thing...either you let the baby drive, or you would end up destroying his precious Crest one way or another. 

You knew what he would say if he were half conscious.

“Get out of here, go. I don’t care about the Crest-” The romantic part of your brain effectively cut you off as his hand wrapped around your wrist. 

Nothing was broken thank god but you had no clue about his vital organs, his ribs or, gods forbid, his lungs. 

You had no idea how to treat a punctured lung. Not only was this mission’s time coming to a close alarmingly fast. You also needed to race to the next safest planet just to find the best medical care the both of you could afford.

---

“Y/N Djarin?” 

“...Y/N Djarin?”

Preparing for a fight as you had fallen into an uncomfortable yet fitful sleep next to his bedside, you could only cry with relief as you saw a doctor and a nurse standing in front of you. 

“We have a few mandatory questions for you. Heh, Mandatory questions for the Mandalorian that is.”

Any other day you would’ve found that funny, maybe Din too if it was a good day. 

A babble of laughter erupted from your lap. Ad’ika was wide awake. 

“Thank you...for cheering him up when I couldn’t.”

An exhausted sigh left your mind as you glanced over your beloved Mandalorian...what a mess. 

A beautiful mess to you...but to a doctor. You had no idea how you were going to afford this. 

“I have a few questions too if you don’t mind answering them doctor…” trailing off you hadn’t caught the medical duo’s names

“Dr.Pavan, Dash Pavan. And this is not only my wife but my assistant doctor/nurse Pana Pavan.” Wow, this couple was all about repetition huh. 

“Uh...I’ll call you by your first names if you don’t mind.”

“Oh everybody does dearie don’t worry about it.” The female doctor was built very similarly to you, which scared you in a way because of how put together her life was in comparison to your...well, at least yours right now.

“I...don’t know how I can afford the medical treatment he needs. It’s true that his line of work isn’t good to him but I can’t just let him die either.” Attempting to keep yourself together, you saw pain and sympathy flash through the couples’ eyes. 

“We know exactly what you’re talking about. If we didn’t make nearly as much as we did last year I could’ve died myself...I was expecting y’see and well, we lost our daughter.” Pain rang through your heart as your hands tightened around Ad’ika’s slouched form. He was tired but he refused to sleep, just like his buir.

“I’m so sorry...I can’t imagine what that must be like. I’m scared too.” 

“If the force is on your side dear, you never will, and the husband is always the biggest of help, I love Pav with all my heart and I knew that when we married we'll stick together no matter what. Which is why I married him in the first place. It was tough...it still is sometimes when we face similar cases today....which is why we offer free medical care to those who need it the most.”

You couldn’t help sobbing into your son’s head as they told you this. They were so kind when the rest of the universe had been so cruel to all three of you. It was a race for the little moments...moments like these when all you could do was watch as Din got better more and more every day. Yet you continued to lie just so you were allowed in. 

It wasn’t your fault they mistook you for his wife. You cared about him a great deal, you weren’t afraid to show that now. Not after this accident. You knew when he woke up...you were gonna tell him how you felt. Whether he reciprocated or not. 

It was...one of those moments

---

“Good morning Djarin.”

“Hello Pana. Please, call me Y/N.”

“Oh shucks. Alright Y/N. That’s such a badass name, Y/N Djarin.”

“I guess so.” you chuckled.

“So...how did you two meet?”

Oh no...now you had to lie for real. 

“Well...he saved me. I was all alone with only an Ugnaught named Kuill to guide me, he was like a father to me. Then, late last year, he was killed. Protecting the little one from imperial troops.”

“Oh my!” 

“I know...sounds way more dramatic than it actually was, believe me. Well...in my case anyway, I’m...just a mechanic. I’m nothing special.” 

“Dear listen to me. Everyone is special in this universe. My mum taught me that. When she passed away I was devastated for years. Then I met Pav and...everything just fell into place.”

“...it was like that with me and Din. Although...I’m not afraid to admit it was puppy love. When I walked into Kuill’s hut that night I wasn’t expecting another...bounty hunter to show up. Let alone a Mandalorian. I wanted to ask him so many questions, yet I didn’t want to pry about his culture...his past. There’s still some things to this day I don’t know about him...but I remember when I started falling in love…”

“Aw...You sound like you’ve come straight out of one of my western novels!” 

You blushed at this admission. Not wanting to sound like the starry eyed waif that you were. You fell in love with the man...not the helmet or the blasters and definitely not that infernal jet pack. 

“One night...Ad’ika was fussing and I just snapped. I couldn’t cope, it felt like the stars were imploding on me. I couldn’t sleep, my hormones were going crazy (this isn’t aimed at a specific gender btw) I refused to eat until after I slept so my stomach hurt. I was going through the paces of newfound buirhood it seemed.” You laughed to yourself.

“Buir?”

“It’s Mando’a for parent.” 

“Oh, they are a very gender neutral race aren’t they?” 

“Yes...it was also one of the many reasons I didn’t know if he was gonna love me back. I was scared. To say the least. When he startled me awake I realised I had been close to dropping Ad’ika on his head. It hurt me...that I wasn’t being a good mother. It was so unexpected...I didn’t have any heads up whatsoever.” Laughing to yourself at the memory now, you realised how fond of the both of them you really are. They were your Aliit.

“I love them both so damn much…” Reaching over to Din’s bed side, you grabbed his bandaged hand. Rubbing the newly discovered yet so ardently him, tattoo with a smile on your face. 

“I will always love him...I know that now.”

---

You were standing in line for some caf at the hospital canteen when you ran into Pana again.

Or...more accurately she ran into you. 

“DJARIN! Y/N! I FOUND YOU!”

“Yes Pana you found me.” You were way too grumpy and sleep deprived for this much energy, which is probably why you missed the cheshire cat grin on her face.

“YOUR HUSBAND IS FINALLY AWAKE! DON’T STAND THERE WAITING AROUND FOR SOME CRAPPY CAF!” Yanking the empty plastic cup out of your hand she yeeted it as hard as she could towards the bin. 

“That’s so bad for the enviro-wait...what did you just say?”

---

You had never run so fast in your life, you didn’t think it was possible for your lungs to burn. 

Dashing through the door, your heart warmed at the familiar sight. Ad’ika was babbling up at his father happily once more, his helmet resting in his son’s hands as they talked in hushed tones. Clearing your throat playfully yet with your eyes full of tears.

“Din...you’re awake.” You tried so hard not to cry, you really did. 

You didn’t even notice both the doctors step out of the room to give you both some privacy. 

“Good morning...my love.” 

Then everything froze.

“...Pana told you didn’t she.” 

Deadpan tone returning to your voice...you knew he was never going to let this one go. 

“Actually I kind of like it.” 

“You, you do?”

What the kriff was going on?”

“Yeah, I mean I always hated your last name.” 

“Djarin that’s so unfair how could you say-”

“Only because I’d happily give you mine.”

Was he….proposing?

---

When Pana and Pav next entered the room you didn’t even realise that you had gained a concussion from keldabe kissing him so hard. 

They gave you a pink and blue bandage though…

Besides the modest wedding band on your finger, it was a badge of pride that you were now happily married to Din Djarin. 

Although getting married in a hospital wasn’t unconventional, you adored the fact that Pana and Pav happily agreed to be your best man and woman. Seeing as they brought you two together of course. They easily forgave and forgot the common lie of pretending to be someone’s wife/husband/partner just to see them. 

A couple months later you were buzzing with joy about telling Pana about the daughter you had named after her.