Can You Please Reblog If Your Blog Is A Safe Place For Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Asexual,

Valley Nights 1

It’s 1915 Egypt, and you’re an ambitious librarian assisting on an excavation when American flirt and archaeologist, Jack Daniels, takes an interest…

Well this got out of hand…

Just under 14k. Oops.  

A wee note! The drink is a real thing and it first appeared in the 1930′s, but they’re delicious and fitting so hey ho. The hotels were real too, both are now modern resort monstrosities. 

Rating: 18+ 

Warnings: mention of guns, no real described violence but allusions to a robbery, decade accurate workplace sexism ew gross I know but we’re a boss regardless, graphic sexual descriptions, cum play, oral (f! receiving), Jack Daniels?, maybe non-american reader but I don’t say where from though it’s implied they live and work in the UK at least.

Chapter 2 here

Valley Nights

Sitting alone at a table of the Shepherd hotel bar with a strong coffee, you glance over the sheaf of papers in front of you, mildly annoyed at the haphazard hieroglyph interpretation from one of the Professor’s students. You can’t claim to be an official scholar, it’s 1915 and you were here in Cairo only because of your ‘esteemed dedication as a librarian’. The reality behind Professor Hart’s carefully worded entreaty for you to join the expedition was that you were an unparalleled researcher, he just couldn’t admit it in front of his academic peers. 

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Cry To Me

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: cursing, friends with benefits, reunited best friends, general fluffiness, allusions to sex

Rating: M

Summary: Frankie and you have reunited after losing touch for years. Fresh off of his divorce you propose a friends with benefits situation which he accepts. The problem is you’re still very much in love with him, but you want him to enjoy his single life after being married for so long.

A/N: In which a person who doesn’t know how to write gets stuck with the thought of dancing with Frankie in the kitchen and writes it. 😅 I saw a tik tok of a couple dancing to Cry to Me by Solomon Burke this morning and this happened. It was supposed to be 500 words, but here we are at over 1,000+. Had no plan for this one, just me churning out nonsense as I went.

AO3

Frankie and you were inseparable growing up having been present for both of your trials of life; his going into the army and you taking the plunge into starting an Etsy business after high school. Your friends defined the two of you as a living definition of bad timing. He had a high school sweetheart that he ended marrying shortly after coming back home from the army. You would have been happy for him if you weren’t so in love with him and it got hard to be around him which is why you had drifted apart.

The next time you saw each other was shortly after his divorce from his wife and you could see how raw it still was for him. You spent the whole night catching up on old memories, delicately skipping over the topic of his ex-wife, and new things going on in your life. That was also the night you had your first kiss, but considering how fresh his divorce was you didn’t want him to jump into another relationship. That’s when you had proposed friends with benefits as a solution. It gave him time to figure things out and you wanted him to be able to enjoy his single life after being married for so long. You didn’t want to be the rebound and you both still got what you wanted out of each other.

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Miller's Book Nook

Rating: G. Lots of shy fluff. Pairing: Bookstore Owner Joel Miller x Reader Word Count: 600 Summary: You've been infatuated with the handsome owner of Miller's Book Nook and it might just seem that he likes you too. Warnings: Tooth aching fluff, Joel's POV at the beginning.

A/N: I wrote a little something for Secret Springs. @secretelephanttattoo spun the wheel and I got Joel Miller and bookstore, AKA the coziest of cozy dreams. Thank you @saradika-graphics for the divider.

Masterlist

The door jingles alerting him to a customer. Christ, it’s almost time to close. Really? His internal anger dissipates once he looks up. He hides a smile, it’s you, his secret favorite customer, his heart springs to life when you shyly smile towards him. 

He clears his throat, removing his reading glasses and tucking his novel to the side. “Evening, looking for anything in particular?” 

“Oh, hi, no, just browsing, thanks.” 

“Just let me know if you need any help.”

Your head bobbles a nervous nod before turning down the new release aisle.

It’s always the same interaction. Same question, same answer, same response, so why does it always mean so much to him? 

—

You’re running out of shelf space, most of your extra income sits in the cash register of Miller’s Book Nook. You can’t keep away from the cozy brick building with its creaky hardwood floors and cinnamon scented air… not to mention the handsome owner.

Joel.

He’s always here. Quiet, intimidating, a man of few words. If you weren’t such a voracious reader, you’d still be trying to find excuses to stop in just to look at him. 

The text on the back of the book swirls in your head as you hear Joel’s heavy footsteps approach you.

“Heard that’s a good book, it’s next on my list,” his timorous voice is deep, sending a wash of calm across your body.

“I’ve been meaning to get it, guess today’s the day,” you glance up towards him. He wears a slight smirk, his eyes crinkling with warmth. 

“Guess it is. I’ll take it up to the front for you so you can keep looking.” 

“Thanks.”

He grabs the book and walks away, his wide shoulders taking up most of the aisle. A long exhale you’ve been holding deflates your lungs before you move to the next section.

—

A glance at your watch shows it’s fifteen minutes past closing time. Whoops. 

Timid steps bring you to the checkout counter where Joel looms behind, greeting you with a warm smile.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see the time.”

“Not a problem at all, got nothing else going on,” his pleasant and deep voice sends a shiver up your spine.

Your head angles down, searching for your wallet in your bag. 

“On the house.” 

Your head darts up, eyes wide with surprise. “Oh, I can’t do that, Joel.”

This is the first time you’ve ever said his name out loud, you’ve never been formally introduced. 

“I’ll have none of that, please,” he urges the book into your hand. “You’re my favorite customer.” 

His voice softens with the last sentence, a wave of goosebumps prickle across your skin while your head swims with the implication of his words. 

“Thanks Joel.”

One last smile is sent your way before you clutch the book to your chest and leave.

—

You’ve been looking forward to this moment all day. Comfy couch, warm lamplight glowing, a lit cinnamon candle that smells like Miller’s Book Nook, your favorite fluffy plaid blanket covering you, and soft music playing. You nestle yourself amongst all of the coziness and open your new book. A small note card drops out. Neat, angular handwriting is written across it. 

Enjoy. I’m going to start reading it tonight. Please feel free to text me and we can talk about it.-Joel 

Your finger runs across the imprint of his phone number, a huge grin breaking across your face as you reach for your phone. 

I don’t mean to sound like a bitch but I’m genuinely clueless and it might be because I don’t create on here but I don’t understand why y’all always upset about the “reblogs to likes” ratio. Imo Tumblr isn’t really the best place to post content since literally nothing you do here is monitizable but I guess it can be to get commissions. Or do y’all just genuinely like gif making and such that you just want people to appreciate your work? I just basically wanna hear your reasoning as to why the ratio bothers you

We just want people to appreciate our work. It’s as simple as that. The majority of us make content purely because we enjoy making it. We’re not looking to make money from it. Making gifs, edits and fan art can take hours, even days. Someone liking our work is nice enough but reblogging it means that more people will see it and therefore will lead to more notes. By just liking a gifset, edit, fan art and not reblogging is basically saying you don’t think it’s worth showing other people and it’s just really disheartening.

Failure

Din Djarin x Reader

Gif credit: @saltybatman

A/N: I couldn’t get this thought out of my head so I just had to write it. I’m still grieving btw

—————-

“Stay here with him, I’ll protect you both. Head to the ship once he’s done” you blankly stare at his visor a death grip on his gloved hand, your breath heaving.

You think you’ve gone into shock. This wasn’t supposed to happen. How did they know where the child was? This was not-

“Y/N are you listening to me?” his stern voice cuts through your racing thoughts. He grips your shoulders. “I need you and the child safe. Promise me when he’s done you return to the ship immediately.” you nod rapidly finally breaking from your trance.

He nodded in approval and takes his blaster out of his holster, “Be careful, Cyar'ika” your hands start to tremble. You weren’t scared for yourself. You were scared for your lover. You were scared for the child that you considered a son. You have to be strong. For both of them.

“Din” he stares at you for a moment. “Come back in one piece please” you begged.

He tilts his helmet as saying “I will”, and takes off down to the stormtroopers. You watch him run, nerves settling at the pit of your stomach. You turned around to face the child, his face still scrunched in concentration. The force field still rising towards the sky in full force. He needs to snap out of it, but till then you had to protect him. 

You took your blaster out of your own holster and gripped it tightly in your hand. Beats of sweat dripped down your forehead, as your eyes dart around the surroundings no stormtroopers insight. For now. Your hand flexes around the gun, as you walk from left to right and around. It felt like hours. It couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes before a sound catches your attention. You look up to the sky, your eyes squinting adjusting to the light. You couldn’t tell what it was-oh no. No.

“Shit” you hissed at the sight of what you assume are troopers. You turn to the child, still sitting on the magic rock.

“Kid, we gotta go!” you rush over to him, he doesn’t move from his place.

“Grogu! Come on! They’re coming! Snap out of it!” your words don’t affect him. 

You huffed and look back at the sky, they’re getting closer. You look back at the force field, “Fuck-here goes nothing” you stretch your arms and inch closer to the child. 

You feel yourself being pushed, pushing at your frame. And maker does it hurt. You grunt as you attempt to inch closer to the child. Your fingers bend at the pressure, but it doesn’t stop you. You inch closer and closer-you feel like you can practically feel his robe, then you felt nothing. You hear yourself let out a scream, your body being thrown mid-air. 

You were launched much further than Din was. You felt your body land on rock, a loud almost crunch ringed in the air as you felt your head come in contact with the hard surface. Your body rolls down the hill, tumbling through the rocks the small amount of grass. Stoping at the bottom, you let yourself lay there. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t feel anything. Not the cut on your temple, that’s slowly dripping. Not pain on the side you landed on. Nothing. But you did feel something. You felt sorrow. Greif. Failure. It hurt more than physical pain. You knew by the time you finished tumbling down the hill the child was gone. If you had just stood there and fought off the troopers then maybe you could’ve made it back to the crest with the child in your arms. It was your fault. No one else could tell you otherwise. You felt yourself become dizzy. Your eyes fluttering open and close, fighting to stay open. You soon let yourself give in. No longer wanting to feel.

Din races up the hill, his heart practically beating out his chest. He tried to convince himself that he could make it. Make it to the both of you. But he knew it was too late. By the time reached the temple, the troopers had already taken off. He watches in anguish seeing his son be taken. But wait-they just have him. He whips his head around, his eyes darting around the temple. He runs to the edge, frantically looking around.

“What is it?” Fennec questions the sudden actions.

“They’re gone” he seethes out but worried.

“Who-”

“Y/N!” he growls. They took the child. His child. And they possibly killed you. All because he wasn’t fast enough. No. They’re not dead. They can’t be. He can’t lose them too. He tries to convince himself to think of the best scenario. He walks around the edge, hoping to see them walk out behind a rock or at least…their body.

“Maybe they went back to the ship” Fennec tries to the calm the distraught Mandalorian.

Yeah maybe. He did tell them to go back. He sighs and starts rushing over to where the crest was parked. He runs, the crest slowly coming into view.

Before he could take another step, a loud boom rings in the air. He looks up to see a blast shoot through the clouds and before he could process it the blast had already made it to the crest.

“NO!” he hears himself yell out. He rushes to the edge, his heart dropping at the sight. 

His beloved home now erupted into flames, parts being thrown left to right. You were in there. You were in the crest when-his knees buckle beneath him. He kneels to the grown roughly, his chest constricted. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. His mind swirls with thoughts. He lost his home. He lost his child. He lost you. He’s lost everything he’s ever cared about.

A tear escapes his left eye, as his bottom lip trembles. He didn’t know he was crying till he felt a hand on his shoulder. He shakes himself from the shock, he roughly pushes the hand off him. “Don’t touch me” he seethes out. He pulls himself back to his feet and turns to Fennec and now Boba.

“They might’ve not been in there-”

“They were”

“Mando-”

“NO! They were in there-where else would they be?!” he yells, his voice cracking at the end. He turns back around and huffs attempting to collect himself. He takes several deep breaths, as he stares at the now-demolished crest. Caught up in his grief he didn’t hear the sound of stumbling footsteps coming down the hill.

“Mando?” he swears it’s only his mind playing games. That you are not calling out to him. He refuses to turn around.

“Mando” his stomach drops at how clear your voice is. He finally turns around in direction of the voice.

There you stood. Like an angel that just dropped down from the sky, even in your state. Your clothes were covered in grass and dirt, cuts lingering your thighs and arms blood seeping through the fabric. A semi-large cut lingered your temple, dry blood surrounding it. Your eyes held a daze but beat red.

“Cyar'ika ” he gasped out, rushing over to you. He pulls you into him, his hands grasping your body as if making sure you weren’t going to just disappear in his arms. He pulls away and cups your face,

“Cyar’ika I-I thought you were dead-”

“Din-” you spoke hushedly when speaking his name.

“I thought I had lost you too-”

“Din, I’m fine” You barely held a smile, tears gathered in your eyes. The dam broke, a sob escapes your lips,

“I failed” you sobbed out.

“I failed and they took him-” He shakes his head, “No-no Cyar'ika, I failed not you-” “No! It was me! I was supposed to protect him and-and make sure he’s with me and take him back to the crest-” “And in a way, I’m glad you didn’t” you shake your head confused.

“W-what do you mean?” you hear him sigh softly, as he attempts find his words.

“It’s gone”

You continue to shake your head “I-I don’t-” “They destroyed the crest” you gaped at him, not fully comprehending what he said.

He takes your head and pulls you to the edge. You stare mouth agape at the sight of the ruins. You snatch your hand away from his grip and turned around. Din’s helmet snaps to your figure in surprise.

“Cyar'ika where are you going-” you ignored his question and proceeded to make your way off the rock.

Your feet carried you to the ruins, somehow tears drying up. You slowly approach the wreckage, your eyes darting around searching for remains. You hear the familiar clink of Din’s boots behind you, slowly approaching you. You walk around aimlessly but stop when something catches your attention. Kneeling, you dig your hand into the dirt grasping a small sphere. You held the ball in your hands, as you stare blankly at it. You feel a gloved hand on your shoulder, then feel him kneel beside you.

“Cyar'ika ” you didn’t lookup.

“Y/N, look at me” your eyes snap back up to him. Your eyes void of emotion, but a fire is lit in them.

“I’m going to kill him” Din is taken aback at your tone. He’s never heard you speak like this. So full of anger. He knew immediately who you spoke of.

“He destroyed our home. He took our child I-” you shake your head and glance down at the ball then you look back at Din.

“He’s going to pay"

——–

Tags:

@66wookies @kiss-evans @kiwi-the-first @theoutsidelandhere @generation-zero @dindja @phoenixhalliwell @godohammers @apples-of-february @chicken-nugget-puta @chicken-ona-stick @dindjarinscape @strangelittlenobody @seasonschange-butpeopledont @din-damn-djarin @wille-zarr @lovelyasfcuk

ghosts

—CHAPTER THREE: happy

pairing: Javier Peña x f! reader

previous part | next part | masterlist 

a/n: okay wow, this was at 3k when I promised it two weeks ago and now it’s 5.7k. just a slight continuity warning: this whole series is kind of a ‘fuck you’ to the narcos timeline bc I can’t remember when they were in Medellin or when Connie left and came back all relative to everything happening with Carrillo so don’t hate me, I’m going to make it work out I think

also just a general thought – to everyone who responded so well to the last two parts, your enthusiasm is what made me get this part done and edited, tell your fav authors you love them whenever you get the chance ! it makes a difference :)))

The day had been sort of a daze. 

By the time the sun had set gently behind the horizon, muting the sunlit sky into hues of lavender, you were already a few drinks deep, laying back on the front steps of the complex. Time was passing, the seconds turning to minutes, turning to hours, playing out so beautifully in the sky overhead with clouds and colors floating, changing with every breath, and you weren’t moving. You just couldn’t find the energy. 

Not to take a picture, not to flip through the diligently kept journal in your lap, not to do a damn thing but drink. It wasn’t a solution but at this point, it didn’t seem like it could do any more damage. 

The lavender grew darker. The soft orange of the streetlamps ignited up and down the length of the barely busy street. Windows that had previously welcomed the temperate afternoon breeze shut to the aching chill that blew in with the gradual fall of the blanket of dusk over the city. Glasses and bottles clinked with a cheer of ‘salud’ in the small restaurant down the street, couple’s arguments behind closed doors leaking into the street, the roar of a motorcycle’s engine being cut short as the chastising slap of a mother knocked the poor boy in the adjacent alley out of his confident bluff. All the little things. 

It was always the little things. 

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bite me | Max Phillips x Reader | Part One

A/N: This man has been insisting I write something for days now and I outlined an entire series with the help of @bisexual-space-slut​. Title courtesy of @thirsty-flygirl​ bc it was perfect for all the aspects of this fic.

Rating: T

Warning: Naughty words. Lots of sexual references. Max is a jerk and a pervert, but Evan is also a jerk so.

Word count: 1,388, apparently!!

Summary: You’re Evan’s adopted sister and that makes Max really want to fuck you. The only problem here? You hate him.

GIF credit: thewaythisis (Please let me know if you don’t want me using your GIF!)

Tags: @bisexual-space-slut​ @spacegayofficial​ @readsalot73​ @elenamiria​ @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol​ @heatherbel​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @this-cat-is-dea​ @lokiaddicted​ @pascalz​ @cryptkeepersoul​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @dindisneydjarin​ @damerondjarin​ @ezrasarm​ @writefightandflightclub​

                                             ————————

“You know, you don’t look like Evan.”

You were accompanying your parents to help your brother move into his dorm when you met his roommate, Max, all handsome and charming as you held your hand out for him to shake with a polite, slightly infatuated smile that slowly fell. Rather than shaking your offered hand, he was looking you over wolfishly.

“I’m adopted,” you mumbled, letting your hand fall as you wrapped your arms around yourself, looking around the room. “You want me to help you unpack, Ev?”

“Yeah, sure.” Evan mostly sat on his bare mattress, looking through a box of cards he collected, which was the only box he really brought up as you and your parents did the rest.

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(Idk why I thought this but I think it’s funny) Imagine din and reader going back to visit Karga for a job and reader is a apparent heart throb to most of the villagers (not that she knows) and like “hi mrs. Parker” Friday style, these women are see them walking by going “hi Reader~” with cara teasing of reader the whole time having to tell the ladies that reader is already taken with din.

A/N: you are my very first  request, so i decided to do a full, bonifide one shot! thank you so very much!! 🥰💕💕

oddly enough, din doesn’t show his bucket in this until the very end. 💀 it became really cara-centric for some reason. hope that’s okay! 😖

also, the trope of “everyone collectively loves person, but person is so utterly oblivious to it” is, without fail, one of the funniest bits any piece of media can pull lmao.

hope you enjoy! 💗

content: references of sex (kinda), saucy language, gender neutral!reader (my first time writing a gn reader 😲), reader being completely “no thoughts head empty” type of oblivious, cara just brutally teasing reader, soft!din makes an appearance!, cara is also kinda a bisexual icon???

word count: 1,775

“... What do you mean?” 

Cara looks at you strange. She searches your face for a few seconds longer, eyebrows furrowed, trying to see if you’re serious. 

“Are you fucking with me?” She deadpans evenly, and you tilt your head slightly, blinking. You slowly shake your head, raising an eyebrow.

“No...?” You drag out the word and Cara barks a sudden, loud laugh at your genuine confusion, tossing back her head as she does. She straightens up in her seat, still chuckling lightly, and picks up her glass of spotchka. Cara leans against the backrest, draping her free arm over it.

“You’re really not fucking with me, huh?” She mutters with a grin, bringing the glass to her lips and taking a low, long sip, her eyes not leaving yours. You frown, puzzled.

“Cara, I have no ide—"

“Everyone wants to fuck you.” Cara interrupts and it takes a moment for the blunt, vulgar words to register, but when they do you feel heat rise in your cheeks. You visibly recoil, sputtering out an answer.

“I— What are— There's no—” All Cara does as you fumble over your words, getting more and more red in the face, is shrug, an easy grin on her face.

“Yeah, everyone wants to get in your pants, can’t say I blame ‘em.” Her grin turns downright predatory and it gives you the final push to spit out a reply.

“WHAT?” The word comes out incredulous and far louder that you had meant, causing you to cringe at the sound of your voice reverberating in the cantina. People glance over at you and you give the crowd a sheepish, nervous smile. Thankfully, everyone turns back to whatever they were doing, no questions asked. Then your head whips back to Cara, whose all smug-looking, to shoot her a glare. Your face is positively burning, and you just know she can see it.

“Are you fucking with me?” You throw her own question back at her, but it falls flat because all it does is grow the shit-eating grin that’s plastered on Cara’s face. She shrugs, gesturing around lazily to the room at large.

“Jax, the Rodian over there, gives you puppy dog eyes, Kol and Zaltor— the Trandoshans, not the Togrutas, by the way— look at your ass every time they get, that pink Twi’lek gal over there practically fawns over you— think her names’ Numa or Nima or something, the Duros over there...”

Cara continues listing off more and more names, and with each one (some who you know and have spoken to) you feel yourself getting more and more flustered. You sink low in your chair, staring wide eyed into your spotchka, hands on your temples.

“Good Maker.” You groan, placing your hands over your face and slumping onto the table. Cara (finally) stops listing literally the entire population of the village and gazes at you quizzically. She tilts her head.

“Don’t like being the sex idol of the town?” She teases and you groan again, louder this time. You glare up at her through your fingers, still furiously blushing. Oh, how you wish Din was here to beat the snot out of Miss Dune...

“No. This is a nightmare.” You growl out, going back to digging your face into the table, hoping the sandstone would just swallow you whole. Before Cara can reply, a new voice sounds up.

“U-Um, hi.” You stiffen and turn your head to the side to see two Twi’leks, one taller than the other, standing next to the table. They seem a bit nervous, fidgeting with their lekku and rocking on their feet, but something tells you they’re here for... something. The moment you meet Cara’s gaze, your face blanches.

“Kill me now.”

“Hey, pretty ladies.”

You groan and Cara flirts at the exact same time, Cara’s strong voice unfortunately gaining the upper hand. Both Twi’lek giggle, and the taller of the two, the lavender skinned one, flutters her eyelashes. Even more unfortunately, you make eye contact with her. She flushes when you meet her gaze.

“O-Oh my— Stars, um hi!” She and her companion devolve into giggles again and you force yourself to sit up. Giving them a forced smile, you rest your hands under your chin and elbows on the table.

“Hello. What can I do for you?” You ask through gritted teeth, attempting to keep your strained voice relatively nice, while also fighting back both the blush that’s still on your cheeks and the urge to shoot Cara with your blaster. Thankfully, the Twi’leks have gotten over the apparent “meeting their idol” giggles, because now the shorter one places a dusty tan hand on the table and leans in. A bright, stunning smile spreads across her face, but something flirty burns in her eyes.

“Mm. Me and my sister here have just been seeing you around so often.” She says, voice a obviously practiced mix of playfully coy and feigning ignorance. You glance from her, to her lavender sister, then to Cara. And your luck must really be in the gutters, or maybe Cara just wants to torture you—or both— but the mercenary only offers you a grin, lifts her spotchka to her lips, and sips. Your hands curl into fists.

“Yeah, I—” 

“You’re talking to Mando’s squeeze, babes.” Cara interrupts yet again and all three sets of eyes land on her. Two of them moon-eyed and incredulous if not also disappointed, one of them so embarrassed that Carasynthia Dune, you are a dead woman—

“Really?” The lavender Twi'lek’s eyes are so blown wide you almost think they’d roll out of her head. Her sister looks just as awestruck, and both look a tad bit fearful. You go to speak, but Cara (you’re really starting to hate her) opens her mouth again and beats you to the cut.

“Mm hm. Y’all are hitting on the Mando’s sweetheart. Pretty bold, honestly, he’s real protective over this one.” The blush you put all your hard work into smothering returns full force at Cara’s words, and the Twi’leks start looking a bit flustered themselves, though for another reason.

“So sorry!” The lavender one breaks first and goes running off to a Rodian and Zabrak sitting at a far table. She leans in close, seeming to whisper something into their ears, and suddenly all three of them are looking at you with a strange mix of disappointment, lust, and fear. You hastily look away and hide your face behind your hand.

“Aw. Shame.” The tan Twi’lek purses her lips, pushing herself off the table, and you begrudgingly force yourself to look at her. She gives you that stunning smile again and winks.

“You know I’m here for you.” She says and sashays off to where her sister is. Across the room, she gives you another wink and flutters her fingers. Pretty sure that all your bloods’ in your face, you turn to Cara, slowly.

“Cara.” You say her name lowly, looking her dead in the eye. She’s grinning, and blows a lock of her hair out of her face. She feigns an unassuming, innocent look, but both you and her know better.

“Yeah?” She’s walking on thin ice and she knows it, but you also know she’s never been afraid of risk.

“I’m going to kill you.” You say, coming across as deadly serious as you possibly can. Cara’s grin widens, her eyes twinkling, and she downs the last of her spotchka.

“I know,” She starts and she shrugs, “But you know I couldn’t resist.”

You want to reach over and smack her a good one, but a voice alerts you to a certain someone at your side.

“Hey.” Din’s low, modulated voice gentle pulls your attention to him and you turn your head to look up at your silver-clad lover. Even with the dark T-visor, you know exactly where to look to find those soft, doe eyes beneath it. A small smile creeps across your face.

“Hey.” You reply and he offers a hand to you, which you gladly accept. Like always, his hand is large and warm and strong, and it makes you feel completely at peace. Din helps you up to your feet, settling you close, but not too close, to his side. 

“I got the next few pucks, and the kid’s already in the Crest, so we’re ready to head out...” Din trails off and tilts his head, and you can feel his curious gaze roam your face. 

“Your face is... pretty flushed. Are you feeling okay?” He asks it so gently and sweetly, his gloved hand still holding yours, that it’s almost enough to make you forget why your all disheveled in the first place. Letting out a forced, somewhat breathy laugh, you pull your hand away to cross your arms over your chest.

“Um, yeah, yeah— I’m good.” You assure him, but Din knows you so he turns his attention on Cara, whose sprawl in her seat, looking like a satisfied loth cat.

“What did you do?” He asks, keeping his voice neutral, but there’s a hint of that good ol’ Din Protectiveness seeping in too. Part of you celebrates that Din’s finally here to beat up Cara, but all the other parts of you just want to hop on back the Razor Crest and get the Hell out of here. Cara lazily raises her hands in mock surrender, tilting her head into her shoulder.

“Just playing, that’s all.” She replies, eying your spotchka from across the table. She and Din are in some type of staring match even as she reaches and snags your drink. You don’t care enough to protest. Din stares at Cara for a few seconds longer before he shifts on his feet and turns back to you.

“Ready to go, cyare?” His voice is like warm like sunshine, and it makes your entire being light up. You nod and smile, uncrossing your arms to grab his hand. His thick fingers close around yours, encasing your hand in his.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.” You reply as you both start walking, tethered to one another by the most sacred link you can while in public. Din and you walk side by side, a Mandalorian and his beloved, through the cantina and out the door.

Cara watches you leave, then looks around at all the inhabitants of the cantina who had also watched you and the Mando leave hand-in-hand. She nearly laughs at all the looks of disappointment. You really were the village heart throb.

And as Cara downs the last of her (your) spotchka, she ponders,

Dammit. Wish it was me instead of Mando.

sweeter than a cinnamon roll

part two of just the rushing wind on a rolling mind

pairing; frankie morales x reader summary; frankie heads over with you to your place to share a cinnamon roll. rating; g warnings; fluff. all fluff.  word count; 2.3k

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