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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

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AFS: Deleted Scene

a/n: I'm testing a new thing here. There are a few scenes that I wanted to include in the story but there wasn't a good spot to fit it in and keep my plotlines at a good pace. SO, I will be posting the occasional deleted scene! They'll typically be short little drabbles that I post sporadically and I'll always list a number to kind of tell you where it sits in the 'AFS' timeline lol

Din Djarin x Female!Reader

Warnings: none, just pure fluffy fluff

Word Count: 1,101

Summary: Grogu is an artist and he does not restrict himself to a single medium. Inspired by this post/art.

#4.5: HE IS A QUICK ONE

You hummed a song under your breath while cleaning the kitchen. Mando had told you time and time again that house work wasn’t necessarily part of your job description. Though you didn’t think was accurate. You didn’t know a lot about the responsibilities of a nanny, but if you were a betting woman you’d put credits on housework falling under the umbrella. So, despite him telling you to leave it be, you didn’t. Even if it wasn’t the job of the nanny to clean the house, you lived here as well which meant it was in part your responsibility as a roommate, at the very least. Mando could argue otherwise all he wanted. It’s not like he could stop you while he worked.

While Grogu napped, you took the opportunity to clean what you could.

The sound of a quiet giggle made you pause. You rinsed the soap off your hands, leaving the few dishes you had left to clean in the sink, and used the kitchen towel you rested on your shoulder to dry your hands. Another giggle drifted from the hall. Grogu must have woken up from his nap. You chuckled to yourself and tossed the towel aside to go find him. Usually the boy called out for you when he woke up.

Down the hall, you spotted Grogu and it took you a second to recognize what the boy was keeping himself busy with. He stood crayon in hand as he worked on his masterpiece⏤ the masterpiece he was drawing on the wall.

“Grogu!” You cried, startled.

Grogu simply turned to look at you with his little toothy grin. “See!”

He must have woken from his nap a good while ago because the kid had made quite the progress. The entire wall was decorated in his scribbled drawings in various colors. You spotted multiple pictures of his father and him. You recognized the other colored Mandalorian that filled many of his pictures, with the dark haired person beside him, and a few other familiar faces. Peli. Cara. Karga. Your eyes landed on a scribbled drawing of what looked like you with Grogu in your arms. It was honestly the cutest most precious thing in the world and your heart would be overflowing with love if it wasn’t for the location of the art.

“Oh, Grogu, why?” You breathed.

“Good?” He asked.

You gave him a sheepish smile. “Well, you drew it all so good, buddy, but…the wall…”

Grogu’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “Ih.” He motioned for you to follow him with one hand and you trailed after him into Mando’s bedroom. Grogu pointed to the wall where you had taped a few of his art pieces. “See!”

“Right. But that’s paper that I…” You winced. You held your arms out to scoop the little artist up. He looked immensely proud of himself and you hated the idea of scolding him. “We can’t draw on the walls anymore though, alright?” If Grogu understood or agreed he made no motion to show it. You sighed and tickled the boy’s belly, mumbling under your breath. “I wonder how attached your dad is to his walls.”

Mando’s voice called out from the foyer and you grimaced. The hallway was still decorated in crayon. You had tried to wipe some of it away, but the moment you got near it Grogu whined at you to stop. Apparently he wanted his father to admire the work. You hurried to meet Mando in the foyer before he could get any further.

“Hi there.” You held your hands out to stop him.

“Hey.” He greeted curiously.

You forced a grin that you prayed didn’t look sheepish. “So, how was work?”

“Good…” Mando paused. “How was your day?”

“Uh, interesting.” You scrunched your nose. “We may have had a little…incident.” Mando stiffened and you quickly shook your head and hands at him. “No, no. Grogu is fine. He’s more than fine. Grogu is very proud of himself.”

“Oh.” Mando replied.

“Buir, k’olar! K’olar!” Grogu bounced behind you and waved for him to follow. You motioned to the child with your arms and Mando gave you one last confused tilt of his head before listening to Grogu’s pleads. You walked behind him nervously. When the three of you entered the hall, the mischievous artist pointed to the wall covered in crayon. “See!”

Mando stayed stock still for a second and you blurted a panicked apology, “I am so sorry, Mando. I thought he was napping and I was washing dishes and I heard his little, evil giggle and when I found him he was drawing on the wall⏤ I tried to clean it up but he wouldn't let me⏤”

Your words were interrupted with the sound of a full bellied laugh. Mando was laughing loudly and freely. There had been moments of chuckles and breathy laughs, but this was the first time you had seen him so carefree in front of you. A small smile curled onto your features in admiration. Mando knelt down to hold out his arms so Grogu could jump into them.

“Good?” Grogu asked.

“Very nice, ad’ika.” Mando praised him. “I’ll send a picture to Boba and Fennec. I think they’d really love to see it.” You crossed your arms and watched in amusement as the boy pointed at each piece of the picture to babble to him an explanation. Mando nodded and hummed along⏤ paying full attention. When Grogu had reached the end, Mando ruffled the top of his head. “Alright, womp rat, I saw your toys in the living room still. Why don’t you go clean up?”

Grogu chirped an acknowledgement and waddled away. Mando turned to face you and you shook your head. “I hung some of his pictures up on your bedroom wall and I guess he decided to cut out the middleman and get right to it.”

Mando chuckled. “It’s alright. Of all the messes I expect him to get into this is fairly mild.”

“I am sorry about your wall though. I should’ve been paying closer attention.”

“It’s just a wall.” Mando shrugged. “A boring one too. At least now I don’t have to bother with decorations. Cara always complained my house was too plain.” You laughed lightly. “Besides, you should see some of the things he’s gotten away with while I was actively watching him.”

“Oh yeah?” You teased. “He is a quick one.”

“You have no idea.” Mando sighed. “Over dinner, remind me to tell you about the Frog Lady’s eggs.”

“The what lady’s what?”

mando'a translations

Buir: Parent (father) /// Ad'ika: little one /// K'olar: Come here

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#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #a fresh start #mando #mando x you #mando x reader #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian fanfic #fluff #fluffy fluff #grogu is a little adorable shit #precious child #must be protected #domestic bliss!din djarin

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bird-inacage · 7 months

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Only Friends: Episode 10 Preview (Ray goes to Rehab)

So this looks like a really promising development in Ray's arc. It appears that in a scene immediately after this heart-to-heart with Mew, Ray talks to Sand about going to rehab. He finally seems open to the idea of tackling his drinking addiction.

It could be that he's taking Mew's advice seriously, "If he loves you too, do your best to keep him. Reduce your ego. No one can put up with everything you do." These words may have been a reminder to Ray of how lucky he has it, and has inspired him to take steps in the right direction to get better for both his and Sand's sakes. Especially as Ray's actions in Episode 8 (as Sand rightly points out) nearly got them both arrested.

But Ray has one small condition. He isn't using this as leverage, but an opportunity to encourage Sand to do something he also wishes in Sand's best interests. Ray knows how much Sand cares about his wellbeing, and is fairly confident Sand will no doubt make good on this condition for the sake of Ray going to rehab.

Ray nudges Sand to confront his own father. I think Ray is conscious of how he lost his own mother, and how Sand is potentially missing out on a great opportunity to connect with another parent whilst he still can. If it goes sour, then at least you know. But having never explored this, Ray probably feels like it would be a real shame if Sand never tried at least. Ray has mentioned this a couple times now, which is a sign he's increasingly thinking for Sand too.

Ray seems clearly apprehensive when Sand hands him the pamphlets about the rehab clinics he looked into. I think the enormity of making such a commitment finally dawns on Ray. When he suggested the idea to Sand initially, it probably was easier said than done.

I know there are a few theories about the agreement Sand made with Ray's father potentially centring around rehab or helping Ray quit, but I feel like we'll find out soon if that is the case.

After Sand meets his side of the bargain where they go looking for his father, it seems like Ray gets admitted very soon after.

The scene where he cries in Sand's arms looks like a clinician's office of some kind. My guess is Ray is crying because he's really terrified of being left alone to face his demons head on. Alcoholism being the cause of his mother's death and now the disease which also has him firmly in its grips.

My other hope is that the intensity of his reaction is a sign of how much Ray is now in love with Sand and unable to bear the thought of being apart from him for some time.

This entire image of Sand cradling Ray does look like what a parent would do in this situation. Sand is a provider of that unconditional love Ray never felt. Calm, reassuring and the ultimate feeling of safety. Therefore watching Sand leaving him there must be terrifying.

#only friends #only friends the series #ofts #ray x sand #sand x ray #raysan #sanray #khaofirst #firstkhao #first kanaphan #khaotung thanawat #precious child #how many intense crying scenes are they giving khao in this show?#poor boy will be drain dry #i just know that scene will HURT me #i also fear that fight scene we haven't had yet

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andreai04 · 7 months

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“The Folk were of another world, with its own rules and customs—and to a child who always felt ill-suited to her own world, the lure was irresistible.”

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thezeninclan · 1 year

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respire

“were you a virgin?” you ask and his face is so red you can’t help but laugh, laugh at him, and it’s mean, it’s loud and cruel and harsh and it makes his cock twitch and god he wants to fuck you so bad he could cum just thinking about it.

“I mean c’mon.” you say, unable to stop your eyes from sweeping over his broad shoulders, his muscular arms, his barrel chest that makes you want to moan at just the sight of it.

finally your eyes settle on the front of his trousers, where the wetness has eaten away at the dry fabric and formed a tableu of desire that he hadn’t even attempted to hide. not from your eyes. you had known from the moment he had clutched at your back, trying in vain to muffle his exhaulted gasps of pleasure in the fabric of your shirt as he trembled, his hips unable to resist the game of cat and mouse you has started. he had chased the friction of your body, unable to stand the way your ass had fit so perfectly against the cradle of his hips.

it had felt so good, cumming against you, with you, like that, like some primal part of him was marking you as his and only his.

“you expect me to believe that?” you asked, dragging your fingers through the cum and feeling him tremble beneath your touch. he felt so raw, almost sore, from such an abrupt orgasm, and the way your fingers stroked at his cock had him flinching. “after all those long, cold nights with just the other boys to keep you warm. with just bertholdt?” the way you say it has his cheeks burning. he doesn’t want you to think of him that way, doesn’t want you to think of him on his belly in the lower bunk, gasping into the fabric of his pillow as bertholdt-

“oh.” you say, and he knows at once his face has said everything his mouth hadn’t had the courage to. his cheeks go hot, red as the fire burning in the grate behind you. “so the rumors were true after all.”

“n-no-“ he tries, but the weakness of his voice betrays him. the words make his stomach clench, the cum on his pants drying ice cold. he wants to fuck, wants to fuck you fuck you fuck you—

“I can almost picture it.” you kneel down before him, tipping his chin up to look at you. your eyes are full of mirth, intrigued, your lips curved into a smile, and, as he meets your even gave, suddenly you can no longer resist running your hands over his wide shoulders. you hover over his lap so that he can feel the warmth of your body, the telltale heat that rises from between your thighs making his eyebrows raise into his hairline as he realizes you want him too.

“I’m not sure which is better. picturing you holding him down with all your might, your body on his in the middle of the night as you take him, or….” you trail off as his face suddenly changes.

“oh.” you say. “the other way around, was it? it was bertholdt on top. pinning you down-“ he let out a yelp as you demonstrated, pushing him onto his back in one fluid stroke. he relented instantly, and it turned you both on knowing that he could have broken free from your grip in a moment.

you looked down at him, brows furrowed, your eyes flickering down to his lips. "did he kiss you?” you ask abruptly, and reiner is thrown.

“no.” he says insistently, and you can see the earnestness in his eyes that proves he’s telling the truth.

“good.” you say, and throw your leg over his hips, until you're seated on his lap, propped up by nothing but meaty thighs and a cock that slides all too close to your warm center. he can feel the heat of your body, pulsating, unrelenting heat, that has his hips jerking up against yours without his permission, his control.

"good." you repeat, your ass sinking purposefully back against his cock. he moans under his breath, chest heaving against yours as you lean down, so close to him that for a moment he can't remember what it's like to breathe without being consumed by the scent of your warm scent, your sweet breath.

“I’ll be the first, then.” you say, and with little preamble your lips are on his, and his head goes empty enough to ring like a gong if suddenly knocked.

your lips are so soft on his, and they feel so good, like salvation he hasn’t known since he was too young to know about titans, warriors, paradise— and just as reiner thinks he can recover his balance, recover from where you seemed to have knocked him off his ass, suddenly your tongue is sliding into his mouth.

his hands are on your waist, feeling how much fragile it seems in his big, clumsy paws. the hands that have felt so much blood, so much death, the hands that aren’t worth touching you. yet here you are, your left hand sliding down to his, entwining your fingers with his so that even when he freezes, going stiff in so many more ways than one, and your right hand is up by his chin, snapping his face up to look at you.

“hold me.” you say firmly, in a voice that cuts through him like the edge of a blade has so many times before. “now.”

you force him to meet your eye, with word and gesture, and the strength in your words and in your gaze has the shaking in his hands stop, has the tightness in his chest deflating. he listens to nothing but your voice, nothing but your command— until he can feel the tension expel from his body, until he can feel nothing but your touch, your gaze, your skin.

there was no room to broker disobedience, and reiner could only do as he was told, hands sliding up your back until he could feel your hot, bare skin as suddenly your tunic was sliding up and over your head. he's unsure if he was the one to undress you or if, in your haste, you’ve done it yourself, but he's taking advantage of it— and soon he's shirtless too

he breathes heavily, caught between looking at your bare flesh and at the way your tongue traces over his bottom lip.

“did I say you could stop?” you asked, and he shook his head.

your ass was pressed down against his cock in a way that might have hurt if he was in any other mood than this. now, however, it felt that if you moved even an inch away from him he’d cease to be. like he couldn’t exist without your touch, your weight, tethering him to this earth. “I-“ he begins, teeth gritted so hard they almost hurt. “n-need-“

“what?” you urge. his hands press into your hips so much they nearly bruise and you love it, you want his marks on you, want to look back and remember how good it felt when he finally finally finally touched you. “tell me what you want, reiner.” the way you say his name almost has him come untouched again. a roll of your tongue and he’s almost spilling into his slacks like a green boy.

“need-“ reiner braun grits out. he ruts his cock against the smooth plains of your ass, your cunt, feeling the heat and softness of your body and wanting to bury himself in it in more ways than one. “need to be inside you.”

you nod in satisfaction at his utterance and before the next minute slides away you’re divested of your clothes. your body begs to be kissed and he can’t resist it for one moment longer, capturing every part of you he can reach in the warm, wet embrace of his lips. the globes of your breasts are first, pock marked by wet pink bruises that span the valley of your chest, and it isnt long before he reaches your nipples, sucking them between his lips with the intensity of a starving toddler.

it feels so good you can barely breathe, your feet pressed back against his meaty thighs, feeling the way he pushed up into your naked body like he depends on it to live.

“o-off.” you demand, gripping his breeches in your one free hand, the other having buried itself without your control in thick blonde locks. he obeys without question, standing straight up and taking you right along with him, kicking off the woolen trousers he had long ago messed and the silken braies that laid under.

he collapses back on the feather stuffed down and pulls you a top him, throwing your leg over his hips like you were a seasoned rider and him a proud mare. his cock jumps against your palm as you take hold of it and guide it to its sheathe, gasping as he begins to press into you. its a stretch you almost never get used to, the length and width of him always a shock to your system. but pain is something you can bear and within a few moments you sit astride him, filled to the brim and beyond, until you could practically feel him in your throat.

“I feel you.” you say, choking back tears. you take his hand, callused and rough, and bring it to your belly pressing down just hard enough to make you both gasp. “I feel you right here.”

its almost unbearable how good he feels inside you, how right, like you'd like nothing more than to stay this way forever.

“d-don’t.” reiner mutters, pulling your hand away. “I’ll come if you-“

“so, come.” you say, drawing yourself off his cock before dropping back down. he curls up and gasps, almost as though he’s been punched in the gut, and you can feel the pulsation of his cock inside you. “I’ll let you, this time.” you say, dropping to your elbows so you can brush your lips against his. he looks so happy for a moment, caught between the desire to draw out the pleasure and finally, finally come.

“will you come inside me?” it’s a question this time, not a demand, and you leave room for discourse.

“w-want to.” he moans brokenly. his cheeks are red as the muscle of his titan, blonde hair pasted to his brow with sweat. “I want to c-come inside.” he says. his eyes are rolled back, tongue thick, like he can barely speak. you’re not even sure he knows what he’s saying anymore, like his brain is too taxed to hold back whatever filter might once have been laid over his words. “wanna to give you a baby. wanna make you a mommy.”

the words go straight to your cunt and you gasp, nearly coming undone on the spot. something about him becoming a father, becoming the father of your child, has you sweating, has your nails digging into his chest, has your thighs gripping his hips like you might be bucked off.

“yes.” you sigh, feeling his fingertips grip your ass tight enough to ache. "I w-want to."

it's suddenly your turn to stammer, to become so overcome by his all encompassing warmth that its your turn to falter— so that all you can do is slot your mouth over his, a wild exchange of tongues and teeth and warm, languid breath.

you let yourself be pressed into the mattress, caught up in his arms, and its like you can't breathe without each other, can't exist without each other, and before even another blinding moment of pleasure passes between you, you can feel his cock begin to pulsate inside you, spilling the seed inside you that might one day birth a child, might one day birth a life that you two so clearly deserve. it's like you're no longer warriors, no longer fighters in a never ending battle against the enemies of humanity. you aren't soldiers, aren't titans, aren't you're just two people in love, and just for a moment, just for now— it is enough.