#I didn’t even ship this when I started writing this

[meteor752]

Harry Lupin-Snape AU

Started thinking of Snape and Lupin raising Harry.

Like, maybe James and Lily has written somewhere in their will that if something would happen to Sirius, Harry would be given to Remus or Severus.

And like, at this point Severus has started working for Dumbledore to protect this kid so it would be easier if he raised him (Plus, Lily’s eyes), and it’s his best friends kid, so Remus is all for it, but neither feels like taking it to court because of obvious reasons, so they just decide to do what divorced parents do, and have him every other week.

And Severus is surprisingly good at it, because he lives a pretty calm life, plus Narcissa and Lucius comes over every once in a while with their kid.

And Remus is just happy to have something left of his friends, plus Harry’s snuggles help when he’s feeling down.

(And they make sure that Severus takes him during the full moon week, for safety’s sake)

But when Harry turns like, three, Severus has to go back to his job at Hogwarts, and Remus is offered a position as like the Arthimancy professor, so Harry doesn’t have to be transported so far when he’s going to his other “parent”, plus Remus gets a job.

And now not a single student can focus in Severus’ classes, because while he is doing his scary vampire thing, a three year old with the greenest of eyes and a lightning bolt scar is sitting beside his desk, babbling away.

And every student wants to take Arthimancy classes, one because the professor is chill, and two because again, adorable three year old. Sometimes when Remus asks a question in class, Harry answers something completely irrelevant but he takes it as an answer.

This of course leads to the professors being very focused on the kid in the teachers lounge, and both Remus and Severus are on the sidelines being proud parents while making sure he’s not getting hurt.

And then Harry turns eleven, and Remus takes him to King’s cross because he needs the full Hogwarts experience Severus, and Ron sits by him because “Every other seat is full”, and yeah all that plays out.

Remus is as proud as he can be when he gets sorted into Gryffindor, and Severus just grumbles (While smiling under his breath because he’s just like his mother).

Harry defeating a troll at Halloween and getting grounded, but not for too long since they are still proud that their kid for taking down a troll when he’s just eleven.

Both Severus and Remus using counter curses during his first Quidditch match, so everything’s fine there.

Harry and his friends still believing that someone is trying to steal the philosophers stone, but not knowing who it is since Severus is Harry’s adopted father and he wouldn’t suspect him.

Remus and Severus both almost breaking down crying when they find out that Harry almost died, and deciding that they need to start working more as a unit while raising this daredevil of a child.

Remus not even being mad that Harry stole a car, because it’s too funny and it’s such a James thing to do, while Severus playing angrier than he actually is, because it was pretty darn clever.

Severus giving every kid detention that dares to mention that Harry have opened the chamber of secrets.

Remus and Severus starting to flirt a little between each other.

Remus having to console Harry after Hermione was petrified.

After Harry told Severus that he suspects that Lucius gave Ginny the diary, he is ready to fucking murder that bitch, Remus has to physically hold him back.

During the summer, Severus offers to help Remus during the full moons, and one Animagus Transformation later, the Big bad wolf now has a black cat following after it.

Remus being offered the position as Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher, because the only new professor they could find that year was someone willing to substitute for Arthimancy.

After the news of Sirius Black’s escape, Remus insists on following Harry on the train, and saving him from the dementor.

Severus substituting for Remus when it’s the full moon(except for the actual night), and Harry being strictly told not to tell anyone about the werewolf.

(Before this they maybe brought in some other professor, idk)

Remus and Severus constantly being scared of what Black might do to Harry, but Remus still doubting the whole thing.

Harry being given the Marauders map and immediately knowing it’s Remus and his friends who made it.

Despite that, he only shows him it after seeing Pettigrew on the map, and Remus confiscate it.

Remus and Severus goes after Harry together when Sirius strikes, Remus knowing that he’s innocent while Severus is still unsure, because of biases.

Remus and Sirius reuniting, with Severus standing in the background ominously, a bit jealous.

Sirius and Severus still getting into a bit of an argument, so Harry has enough and just uses Expelliarmus on his adopted father, to everyone’s surprise.

When Remus’ transforms into a werewolf, Sirius tries to calm him down while Severus turns into a cat and starts to chase after Pettigrew, but unfortunately can’t catch up.

Both Remus and Severus trying to defend Sirius (Severus only doing it for Remus’ sake), but everyone refuses to listen to them.

Until they are told that their “son” traveled back in time to save a hippogriff and Sirius holy shit WHAT-

So Harry’s grounded for a while.

But after some convincing from Remus, he’s allowed to go to the Quidditch World Cup.

Big mistake, he nearly died again, they should just lock him in a room because it seems like he has a death wish.

And then his name is placed into the goblet of fiyaghdofht

And Severus’ death eater mark starts to hurt again.

And Harry keeps having these dreams of Pettigrew and a strange man together with Voldemort.

And the new DADA professor teaches the kids the unforgivable curses

So it’s a lot for the both of them!

Plus the fact that Sirius is still on the run, but wants an opinion in how they are raising his godson, and Severus is just not having it.

Both Remus and Severus try their best to help Harry in their own ways, Remus by giving him tips and Severus by answering him questions about death eater stuff and who might have put his name in the goblet of fiyahdgfjeb

And when they both hear that dragons is the first task, well let’s just say they panic a little.

And then they argue for a bit if the broom stunt was more of a James or Lily thing, since James was a natural flyer while Lily was clever and creative.

Oh, little do they know.

They both can’t believe how stupid their “son” is when it comes to the Yule Ball, because for Merlin’s sake just go with the Weasley boy. But nope, he takes the Parvati girl and ends up being down the whole evening.

Remus and Severus end up having fun though, as they have a little too much to drink and dance a lot. That brings Harry’s mood up a little, because he’s been waiting for the two to get together for a while.

(And ye, they kissed, but they were drunk and it was brief)

They feel a bit more safe about the second task until Harry doesn’t come out of the water, oh merlin Lupin he’s dead isn’t he, oh I never thought I would loose a child this way-

But no, he’s fine, he was just being his usual chivalrous self, and Severus can’t help but smile because that’s 100% Lily’s son.

And then all the stuff about Rita Skeeter and the daily prophet, yeah that’s a mess. A few articles are written about Remus and Severus, on how they might be secretly married, on how Severus is an Ex death eater and is raising “The Chosen One” and how Remus keeps disappearing.

And then it’s the third task, and Severus gets called to Voldemort in the middle of it and they both just look at each other with panic in their eyes.

It’s a mess when Harry returns with Cedric’s dead body, shouting on about how Voldemort is back, and then he suddenly gets dragged away by Moody, and they both figure out what’s up.

Harry is very emotionally unstable after that, and they both do their best to be there for him, but Dumbledore tells them that he has to live with the Dursley’s that summer for protection, and for plot because otherwise this wouldn’t work.

So Harry is gone from their lives half the summer because they can’t contact him, and they now spend a lot of time in Grimmauld place, which Remus is happy about because Yay, Sirius, Best friend! while Severus ain’t having it because he’s a jealous darling.

And Sirius isn’t much for it either, so there’s a lot of tension there.

It’s all just sorta awkward until Harry gets fucking expelled and he’s to be moved to Grimmauld place, and both Severus and Remus volunteers to follow because that’s basically their son, but neither are allowed.

And when Harry reunited with his parental figures, he’s happy to see them of course, but also sorta pissed because he had to live with abusive muggles half the summer, and they both apologize a million times and say that they had too.

During what’s left of the summer Severus isn’t around much, as he has things to do concerning Dumbledore (And the whole double-agent thing with the death eaters), and Remus is fairly busy as well, so Harry bonds a lot with Sirius. 

And Sirius is just delighted to spend time with his godson who is so much like both James and Lily, til he starts to notice some familiar quirks with him, like how he always reads with his nose very close to the book, or how he always seems to have a piece of chocolate in his pocket in case someone is feeling down, or how he pauses in the middle of sentances for dramatic effect, that he knows came from Remus and Severus.

And he’s a little sad about it, because he was supposed to raise this child as his godfather, Harry was supposed to have small little quirks from him, not Snivellus.

And when he founds out that Severus is now an Animagus that helps Remus with the full moon’s, oh he is pissed.

When Harry is sent back to school and it is revealed that the ministry has taken over Hogwarts, Severus and Remus share a worried glance, because that means that Remus is in a bit of a risk here, because of the werewolf thing.

They both to keep their cool when she comes to Inspect their classes (Well, in Severus’ case it was a bit more cold than cool), but they are honestly both really nervous about Remus.

When she asks about the fact that Remus keeps disappearing for a few days ever few weeks, he simply blames it on allergies, and the rest of the teachers back this fact up, as they like Remus, and the students enjoys his classes.

It’s the day that Harry shows up in Severus’ office, asking him for a potion against his bleeding hand that they get real mad, how dare she hurt their little lion cub.

Neither of them are aware of Dumbledore’s army, just because of safety. Harry wanted to tell them, he really did, but Hermione and Ron convinced him against it as the less people who know the better.

Their favorite event of the year is probably when Harry bursts into Remus office when they both were there, pouting as hell and complaining about Cho Chang. They both agree that it was a very James thing to do.

The whole occlumency thing puts a bit of a rift in Harry and Severus’ relationship however, since Harry gets very angry over his adopted father or just breaking into his mind, and Severus is frustrated that Harry hardly tries, and all he can see while doing it is James.

It’s when Harry uses the Pensieve and sees the memory of his father, Remus, Sirius and Pettigrew bullying Severus, and Severus calling his mother a mudblood that Severus gets real angry.

The two barely talk for the rest of the year, and Remus is basically stuck in these situations where the one he was talking to just rants about the other, and he’s just so done with this shit.

When Harry has a vision of Sirius getting tortured, and they all get captured by Umbridge, and she tells Severus to get the Veritaserum, Severus nonchalantly brushes it off, even though he is boiling inside because how dare this bitch hurt his son.

When Harry starts shouting about Padfoot, he immediately figures out what he has to do, and as soon as he’s left the office he runs to get Remus and the order.

Unfortunately he can’t follow since he’s still playing the Double Agent, but he is basically in his office pacing away worrying about everything that could go wrong to his little lion cub and to Remus.

Thankfully, both of them are allright. Unthankfully, Sirius is dead and they both are emotionally destroyed.

It’s a tough summer for the family, Severus has to make sure to be there for both of them, while Dumbledore is over there getting himself cursed because of greediness, plus he’s trying to get Severus to kill him, and tells him that his son needs to die.

Severus ain’t having none of Dumbledore’s shit.

And then he’s approached by Narcissa who also asks him to kill Dumbledore, and makes him do the Unbreakable vow.

So yeah, Severus has a lot of thing going on.

Remus notices this however, and tries to ease his mind with some wine when they are back at Hogwarts, and whoops there they go, second kiss. And third. And hOLY MERLIN CALM YOURSELVES-

When Harry finds the Half-blood prince book, he doesn’t bring it up with either Severus or Remus, because he doesn’t really see it as too big of a deal.

Harry ends up complaining to Remus about Ron and Hermione arguing and that he is caught in the middle of it, and Remus end up giving him the most annoyed glare, because bitch now you know how I felt last year, and Harry just chuckles awkwardly.

It’s when the cursed necklace is given to Katie, and Harry’s best friend nearly dies of posion when Severus is really starting to freak out in his own way, which is that he’s screaming in his head but is completely calm on the outside.

There’s also been this thing where since Severus was a part of raising Harry, some death eaters believe him to have grown attached to the boy, but he just replies that he’s simply playing his part.

When Harry and Remus goes to the burrow at Christmas while Severus goes to his place, only briefly visiting a few times to see his son but is still trying to keep up the Death Eater thing, Remus starts to suspect something is up with Severus when Harry can’t stop rambling about Draco, and how he saw Severus confront him about something, speaking about the unbreakable vow.

Remus brings it up one night when they are back at Hogwarts, when they are both sitting in front of the fireplace with Severus’ head in Remus lap, and Severus quietly panics. Remus doesn’t push him however, just says that if he needs to talk then he’s there for him.

When Harry fuels Draco in the bathroom, and Severus finds Draco bleeding out, he figures out that Harry has his old book.

Instead of just demanding of him to bring him it, he just says that they will talk later and then takes Draco to the hospital wing.

Severus is calm and patient when Harry tells him about the book he found with all these spells, belonging to “The Half-Blood Prince” and Severus is just beaming with pride in his mind because that’s his boy! His boy found his book! His boy learnt from his instructions!

But instead of saying that, he just says that he’s not mad, but tells Harry that he has to get rid of the book, and so he hides it in the Room Of Requirement, landmarking its place with an old bust and a diadem.

Both Severus and Remus gets very protective of Harry after that, because a lot of Slytherin students are angry at him, which they sorta have a right to be, but still no one messes with their little lion cub!

When Harry leaves to retrieve the Horcrux with Dumbledore, and then they return, and then they go up to the Astronomy tower and is confronted by Draco and Death Eaters...oh boy.

Severus has to go up there, knowing that his son was watching him, and perform the unforgivable curse.

And poor Harry was just standing there, watching his father kill a man that he trusted, feeling lost and betrayed and a hundred different feelings.

And Severus has to look at his son, anger twisting his face, demanding him to fight him, calling him a coward.

And then someone has the guts to hurt his son?!

But when he hears Harry try to use one of his spells, he is once again a little proud because his son is suing something he created!

And then Harry flies back, laying on the ground, looking up at him with both anger and fear, demanding him to kill him and calling him a coward.

And he does the only thing he can do, he mocks his father, reveals who “The Half-Blood Prince” is, and then flees.

And Harry is just so confused and betrayed, and Remus tries to comfort him but he is as confused, and neither of them knows what to do.

But there’s still this feeling Remus had, the same feeling he had about Sirius, that something is not right here.

Harry once again being sent back to the Dursley’s for safety before both him and the family will be moved to different places, and Harry end up having a bit of an heart to heart with Petunia about her sister.

And Severus over here is just screaming in his head constantly, because instead of having Remus and their son, he is now forced to be around the Death Eaters, half of which don’t even trust him, all because of Dumbledore.

And then Harry will be moved, and Severus is one of the Death Eaters being sent out to kill all the other’s, and he’s just not having it.

As subtly as possible he tries to protect his Remus and his son, and while doing it he accidentally cut off one of the Weasley’s ears, so whoopsie.

Remus not being able to return to Hogwarts to teach that year because he’s apart of the order and he’s a werewolf, so the two are separated that whole year and they both suffer.

And Remus tries to make Harry let him come with him for the Horcrux hunt, but Harry just says that it’s safer not too, because the fewer the easier, and Remus needs to take care of himself, which he’d been horrible at doing for the past couple of weeks.

He ends up spending a lot of time with Sirius’ cousin Tonks, and the two become close. Not in a romantic sense, but in a platonic sense. And Remus is happy to have someone to talk to, someone who’s also lost things.

And Severus is just as depressed as you can be over at Hogwarts, spending a lot of time using the Pensieve, reliving some moments he had with Remus and Harry.

Like when Harry first said his name, or when Harry first called him dad, or when Remus and him danced at the Yule ball, or all the times Remus used to pet his hair whenever he got bored.

And yeah he’s not in a good place.

When Harry and his friends is sighted in Hogsmead, Severus is a bit conflicted because on one hand, yay his son, but on the other hand, Harry what are you doing I’m trying to keep you alive here.

But when Harry confront him in front of the school, stare at him with hate and betrayal once more, it’s just too much.

So when McGonagall comes out and starts to duel him, he sees him moment to escape and takes it.

And then Remus dies in the first part of the battle, and Harry is hardcore sobbing over his body, because it’s too much.

And Severus gets bitten by a snake, and Harry is close to just breaking in and Avada Kedavring Voldemort’s ass because how fucking dare he.

But when Harry sits beside Severus’ dying body, crying like hell, Severus doesn’t say anything about Lily.

He asks about Remus, if he’s alright, and when Harry shakes his head a single tear escapes his eye, and he asks Harry to take it.

He doesn’t tell him he has his mother’s eyes, he says something else sappy, like how he’ll always be proud of his lion cub.

Harry takes the tear to the Pensieve, and pours it in before entering the the memory.

He doesn’t see Lily.

He already knows about Lily, and that she and Severus used to be friends before he did a mistake.

Instead, he sees himself, and he sees Remus.

He sees the moment they agreed to both adopt him.

He sees the moment they agree that they need to do this together.

He sees himself as just a toddler in Severus’ potions class, having no worries in the world, and the way Severus would give him the most joyus look he physically could.

He sees Severus and Remus at the Yule ball.

He sees himself reunite with Remus and Severus after half a summer without them.

He sees himself being comforted by Severus after Sirius’ death.

He sees Severus’ world fall apart when Dumbledore tells him that he needs to kill him, and that he himself needs to die.

He sees Severus cast a patronus, and a doe jumping out, the same doe he saw in the forest when he retrieved the sword. The doe this time not only representing Lily, but also Harry.

And then he is drawn out of the memory, tears streaming down his face as he walks into the forest, ready to die.

Harry finds the stone in the snitch, and out of it comes five figures.

Harry looking at Severus, and forgiving him.

Remus looking at Severus and forgiving him.

Lily looking at Severus and forgiving him.

James and Sirius still not being sure about it.

And then, Harry dies.

For like a minute, but still.

And he’s just pissed at Dumbledore when he sees him.

And when Voldemort is dead, and nineteen years later he comes to Kings Cross station with his wife and his three children.

And none of those children having the name Albus.

[redvanillabee]

So apparently when you make it your goal to go through an entire ship tag on ao3, the characters move into your brain, you internalise their lives, and now you can’t differentiate fiction from reality

[stayflaminhotmen]

Queen gambit thoughts on the tags because I finished watching season one

[virginburial]

.·:*¨༺    sextape.      ♱   bucky barnes ༻¨*:·.

SUMMARY: in which you bother your upstairs neighbor or alternatively, in which you, a cam girl, try to do your job and accidentally wake up your neighbor

SHIP: fem reader!bucky barnes, FATWS bucky barnes WARNINGS: explicit content, mentions of sex work, mentions of daddy issues, explicit language, random story-telling/plot

WORD COUNT: 4.8K SONG: https://open.spotify.com/track/4rEGJ9KirDlKiOHxqVwcVg?si=a3c34ab37c7749d0

A/N: hi everyone! Buffy here, this is my first oneshot on here that will be posted on ao3 and wattpad later in the week. i know this concept is kind of unrealistic but it’s also the best idea i had for bucky bc i’m writing him for clout, it was hard to think of anything else. i apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes. forgot to mention that i’m super adhd and get my letters and grammar confused. not even accidentally dropping 144 bucks on Grammarly can save me :,)) REBLOGS, NOTES, AND COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED !!

                                                     .·:*¨༺♱༻¨*:·.

"Alright! should we go with option one or two?"

You weren't always the outgoing type, and when you were, you were most likely in your element; but nothing could compare to how very much 'in the zone' webcamming made you. Things have been different since you were able to move on out of your childhood home; your lack of world experience hit you hard. of course, the blip added to the economic stress of it all, but you were so sure that when everyone came back, everything would be normal again, right? Something had to give. Next thing you know, you got fired from your barista job because of the workplace blip act - basically ensuring that the blipped got their jobs back. Their livelihoods. As if you haven't been scraping for your own since they all dissipated to nothing. Whatever, you were over it now. Or you presumed you were. It used to be so easy to find a job, but webcamming wasn't your final option; there was always working for the city's sewer system - yeah, fuck that.

Besides, as complicit-in-your-own-oppression being a woman may seem, the false illusion of having control over your body felt somewhat empowering. You never were big on your sexuality until you discovered webcamming, and it gave you the confidence to treasure the wonders of the sex world - sex work wasn't fun for everyone, but you were happy it was fun for you. Consider yourself privileged. It went from being scared to taking off your shirt, to randomly buying fun wigs and toys to wear and mess around with during your shows. Rent would be on the back burner as corsets and vibrators started to rack up a bill with your bank. It didn't matter, though, men were throwing money at you, and it all comes back; a complete cycle.

Sure, there were the downsides, like dealing with someone who lacked respect or was just indecent, but that was the magic of the internet or at least chaturbate.com. All you had to do was block them. You were laying it all out there, and there was nothing they could do or say to make you feel any more naked. It did hurt still. And it does ruin the overarching mood of the so-called performance-please don’t try to do that thing where you settle for webcamming over an acting career ... it's just sad. Like broadway, hecklers get ushered out, and the show always continues. Then it goes all over the place. Either way, it happens.

Nonetheless, you were still you, just with a new hobby. It's no different than being a writer or a painter, someone who got a hold of art the way they want to see it. The point is, you were still you, but you were finally home in your skin, and at the end of it all, the digital footprint will become privatized by law, so we can't snoop in on what Mark Zuckerberg or Grimes is doing. Everything matters, and it doesn't, so you go with toy number two despite the comments telling you to use toy number one. You were a tease like that, and you loved making those paypigs wait until frustration because of the payout. It was just a basic vibrator with the craziest settings imaginable. You tested it out before the show, and it already made you weak enough not even to consider it. But you did because you learned the fun way not to judge a book by its cover.

The cam girls get to have personalized websites for their business, and you took it upon yourself to make the website so very much yourself. You didn't have to pretend with your audience. think of it like MySpace. You even had a bit of having scene aesthetic to your site, but it was all centered around you. You, you, you, what would your audience ever do without you?

You slowly set the vibrator on high, the words are in Japanese, and you managed to memorize some of the characters to know what it means, spreading your legs open to reveal skimpy pink laced panties that complimented your skin color. There was already a puddle forming on the base of your panties from earlier and then throughout the day. Mainly because you and your neighbor were chatting up about the new upstairs neighbor. The man seemed disheveled and gloomy, almost like a lost puppy, and you had a thing for strays. You wouldn't say it out loud today because everyone is so political, but you liked the idea of fixing someone. You were probably projecting and wished someone would correct you, but putting all that energy into someone becoming better, helping them, that interested you. Cry for help, probably? Not like anyone could hear over the excessive amount of moaning you were doing. Either way, he looked sad; you liked sad, repressed trauma aside, you thought he was handsome. Then you let the thought of him simmer down in your mind, which was a mistake on your part, leading down to you concluding that your attractiveness towards older men was either your father's or Lana del Rey's fault. Somehow.

You began fidgeting at the sensations rolling through your body as you tried to keep your thighs from squeezing shut, but it was hard; then the sound of coin slot machines started rolling from the computer. You felt like Schrodinger's dog, the sound triggering you to shut your legs, taking deep breaths as a slight giggle left your mouth. Blood ran to your cheeks like a marathon, causing the chat to compliment how cute you looked when flustered. You peaked at your panties to notice how the puddle suddenly grew into an ocean, flopping back to your bed and turning on the vibrator again. You thought it would be funny if you teased your audience again, flipping the setting up and placing it on the base of your areola as you stared into the camera. Glittery makeup and lipstick smudged as your blonde wig threatened to fly off. You let it slowly trail down your stomach - the vibrations from your abdomen were already setting you off - steadily going down south until you heard three loud knocks on your door.

"Shit!" You whisper under your breath as the chat freaks out with you. You look at the chat and try to remain calm; this usually never happens. One; because your neighbors don't care, and two, you're never that loud. you weakly smile. "I'm going to put the show on hold, i'll be right back, Lovelies." you kiss the camera, saying it all with a defeated tone as you quickly pause the show. You grab the pink cheetah robe you've had since you were fifteen - back when you had a bit of a princess aesthetic - and ran to the door, struggling to put it on as you made sure you covered just about everything. damnit, son of a bitch cunt whore slut, the colorful words started to pile up in your mind as you reached for the front door. you have got to be fucking kidding me

in all his exhausted glory; there he is, the mysterious upstairs neighbor

he looks timid, almost like he didn't want to bother you. meanwhile, all the blood from your cheeks went directly back to your cunt. "hello, um..." he sighs softly. "I haven't really set up my bed yet; I kind of just have this mattress that's on the floor." the look in his eyes screamed 'why did I bring that up??' as you tug on your robe. "so I can hear everything, and I haven't been able to get some sleep." you heard him just fine, but you were to busy to notice what he was wearing; grey sweatpants and a black tank top; yes, he was packing. The thing that caught you the most off guard besides his sweet-raspy voice was his metal arm. You grew up in a small town with a vast military population, so you knew and had family and were friends with people who had prosthetics. His, however, was strange. The metal was much more refined, it looked very, very, very expensive. You might just be assuming, but why does a man with such a costly arm live in the dump you live in? just a thought as you avert your gaze back to him. "I'm so sorry, i'll be sure to keep the noise down... i-i don't have any guests, it's just ... me." why the fuck would you say that?! you scold yourself as the man cracks a small smile and looks down at your robe. "cool...?" he says in the same tone.

you start to fumble. "I-I'm sorry I-I dunno why I said that sometimes my mouth is faster than my brain-especially in situations like this." you ramble a bit. Make. This. Less. Awkward. I'm. Begging. You. "I'm Y/N, by the way."

The man still has the small smile he had from your confession. He seemed rather amused at how quickly you shattered in his presence. you couldn't tell if it was attractive or unbelievable how someone could look like a nirvana song. "Bucky." he introduces himself, and suddenly, the mystery is solved; his name is Bucky. he then points to the wig struggling to stay on your head. "I'm guessing you're ... cosplaying is the word, right?" he takes a pause. "cosplaying Hannah Montana-" "-oh no no no." you take off the wig, revealing your loose and messy bun/braids, a few pieces of your hair falling to your face as you, in sitcom fashion, throw the wig to the side. "I'm... I'm an actress," you say confidently. You two just kind of stand there looking at each other before your maternal instincts kick in, it's midnight, and he looks tired. You bite your lip hesitantly. "come in, I can make you some tea. It's the least I can do for waking you up." you open the door a little for him, not giving him a chance to reject you as you reveal how snug and perfect the robe fit around all your curves. he noticed that. And just like that, he strolls into your home.

You go to the kitchen, your thighs rubbing with every step - just reminding you that you were still on the clock and that you were still very, very, very desperate for some touch. You just had to make Bucky some tea now, did you? You grab the sleepytime tea box that sat elegantly on your microwave and fill the mug with the words; "maybe swearing will help" printed with water. Making tea was damn near ritualistic. You can't help but feel Bucky's presence, though. Lurking in the shadows and looking at all the fun knick-knacks you collected. You turn to him. "so, you from New York?" you ask.

he nods. "Brooklyn born and raised. I just came back from living in Wakanda for some time. Also spent a little time here and there..." no actual specifics besides Wakanda and Brooklyn. "you from Brooklyn?" he asked, but you shook your head. "small-town girl, I'm from the south. I moved up here during the blip." you explained. Bucky nodded. "to become an actress? Like on broadway?" he asks.

He remembered your white lie. How sweet. You squeeze your thighs a little and gulp. "n-no." you laugh a little. "I came here to get away from losing my brother in the blip and start school. I'm studying biochemical engineering. I wanted to study theatre and the arts, but my dad told me that it was a waste of a college education and that he wouldn't pay if I went and did theatre. but now that my brother is back, he can focus on ruining his life instead of mine..." you ramble a bit before seeing the look on Bucky's face. he was intrigued at the little spice you were able to throw in the conversation. you bite your lip. "sorry, I shouldn't be trauma dumping on you like that...dad's, yknow?" he nods in agreement. "but i've always wanted to be an actress-"

"so, you're not an actress? you're a biochemical engineer student?"

You feel a pang of guilt for lying, but you realize now that you should probably tell him, considering that he's your neighbor, and warn him about the cons of your newfound profession, such as the noise and noise complaints. you scrunch your nose and tilt your head to the side. "I am, but not in the traditional sense ... I'm a porn actress, webcam, actually. I started a couple of months ago after losing my job after the blip." you keep it short and sweet, turning over to the microwave to fetch him his tea before turning back around, you didn't want to see his reaction, but you did, and he looked relatively unfazed. Most men scream and run in the other direction, weak, but Bucky... doesn't care. You decide to change the topic. "what about you? why are you here?"

"...I was in the Army, just came back to get my life back on track, have to do court-mandated therapy now. I should hate it, but a small part of me is glad I'm going." court-mandated therapy? no wonder he's unfazed by a cam girl. "I'm sorry, I know what pornography is, but you said you did webcamming? what...is that?"

you narrow your eyes at him. "you...don't know what caming is?"

He shakes his head. "nope. I'm old-fashioned, don't even have those fancy smartphones." he says as he pulls out a Nokia. "holy shit." you say as he beholds the ancient relic. this was going to be good. Suddenly, you felt your clit throb as he glanced at your robe; you couldn't help but want to show him. You suddenly remembered all the thoughts you left on the back burner about him, simmering down until it boiled and exploded. You were at your boiling point,.your cheeks turned red as you pulled out your phone, going to your site as he keeps staring at you. he could tell, he could tell that you were holding out; considering that you were standing right in front of him and you had your legs crossed. You didn't want to show him your old shows, but at the same time, you didn't want to show him anyone else. If he was going to watch, it had to be you somehow. You pressed on your most recent one from two days ago, skipping ahead before showing off yourself in a sexy nurse costume. You pull the phone away before he gets to peek, though. "you sure you want to see this?" you asked for his consent.

bucky nervously laughs, his smile suddenly getting cheeky as he rubs his chin. "I mean, Y/N, you're showing me pornography-not like I haven't seen it before." his smile slowly turns to a smirk. He was so shy at first, maybe you said too much, overspilled, but no, that wasn't the case. he wasn't getting comfortable with you. He was somewhat charming you. or at least, appeared that way. "cmon, you can show me." he smirks softly at you.

Fuck. Me.

Without hesitation, you show him. You could see his pupils dilate right away, his cheeks getting a little pink as Bucky... studies you. He's not engaging in the content, just analyzing it like an accountant. He holds the phone and observes as you start to feel hot, skin sizzling-almost like a hot flash of some kind-as his eyes follow your every move. he glances over at you. "arent your other neighbors concerned about how loud you are?" he asks almost mockingly, teasingly, but he was serious. You shake your head as your moans echo throughout your apartment. "my neighbor on the left is my best friend from middle school, who told me I should look into this. The neighbor on the right is Miss Chen. She's hard of hearing; I told her I had a cat. and the neighbor across the hall, Amelia, is a flight attendant. Lucky, right?" you try to pause the video, but Bucky is mesmerized by your movements. "so all you do is...sit in front of a camera naked? And people just give you money? And it's live? How...innovative." he said like it piqued his interest. you began to laugh nervously as you finally managed to pause it. he could see it, how visibly nervous you got around him. he furrowed his eyebrows. "why so shy? You weren't earlier." his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

You decide to play his game. "first of all, it's not just sitting in front of a camera and looking pretty. Second of all...whatever happened to being old-fashioned? aren’t you going to buy me dinner first before you look at me that way?"

Bucky looks down a bit bashfully, handing you back the phone as you start to question his motives. "is the real reason you came down here was to quiet me down? or something else?" you ask. You had to have asked. You were okay with whatever answer, though. He's hesitating, though, Bucky glances back at you. "well, it's hard for me to sleep regardless, thought I'd be more tired if I came down here then go back up, but I'm wide awake...why? Were you hoping I came down here because you were moaning like that?" he asked. The conversation was starting to cross the rhetorical-question-turned-confession territory. A small part of you wanted to say yes; ever since he moved in last week, you'd cross paths with him, and he'd stay on your mind. But hooking up with your upstairs neighbor? Webcamming was one thing; being with someone, after how lonely the blip was, was another thing. but something about Bucky made your stomach turn into Simone Biles; flips and tricks and jumping through hoops at the mention of or the glances from Bucky. "...moan like what?" you raised an eyebrow, smirking.

Bucky seems hesitant, maybe he didn't want the conversation to continue, but it wasn't until he was staring at the space between your chest did it hit you that maybe he was too shy to make a move. Yet, he looked so eager, something was holding him back. You realized you weren't the only nervous person here. But you had to try, and you had to try to get him. You lean in a little closer. "cmon Bucky, why so shy? You weren't earlier." you mocked him, playfully teasing him as you slowly grabbed his hand. "may I?" you asked him. It only felt right. he nodded his head and watched as you guided his hand down to your core, his calloused fingers running against your inner thigh as you slowly humped on his hand, rubbing your clothed cunt on his rough palms as a soft moan left your lips. he looked at you in awe, almost like he couldn't believe you were real. You keep a steady pace as you hold onto his shoulders, smiling a little at him because his reaction was priceless. "did it sound like that?" you innocently asked as lust glazed over your eyes.

He lets out a shaky breath. "oh .. fuck..." he said in a throaty tone.

You watched him crumble as he grabbed you and smashed your lips against his, teeth hitting teeth as you eagerly kissed him back, his hand staying still on your cunt as its presence set you off. The first thing Bucky does is undo the loose knot on your robe; it's almost like that's what he wanted to do the moment you answered the door. He reveals your breasts, his sweet kisses never breaking from the fact that you were naked besides your wet panties. Your jaw starts to buckle and hurt as your bottom lip turns red from the friction. Bucky pulls away, practically panting as he delicately brushes your hair behind your ear. You can't help but notice that Bucky was still a gentleman in all the tension. Even if you wanted him to pound you. You could tell this was a little unorthodox for him; maybe he truly was old-fashioned, but also very touch starved. You pull him closer by the waistband of his sweatpants, your hand slowly wandering down to his expanding tip as your index and thumb rub it. You could physically see Bucky relax into your touch as he latches on to your neck; soft kisses on your neck before going completely animalistic on your chest.

You let out a soft whine before grabbing his face and passionately kissing him, your thighs squeezing around his hand. You pull away from him, both of you panting as you hold his warm hand, noticing a thin coat of your wetness before dragging him into your room. A piece of you wanted him to bend you over the counter, but you voted against it. that's when Bucky's eyes landed on the computer. "...is it live-?" he asks. You shake your head; webcamming was your thing; it didn't mean it had to be Bucky’s. But Bucky surprises you. for a man who ‘didn't know’ how to use a laptop; he sure worked his way around it. You - laying in your bed and squeezing your thighs, raise an eyebrow and laugh. "what are you doing?" you giggled.

"hitting two birds with one stone."

He quickly finds the GO LIVE button and moves away from the frame, leaving you front and center, watching the views roll in from your loyal fans as Bucky grabs you by your chin and kisses you lustfully. You could feel your skin cry for him as your knees got weak; the kiss was out of the frame, Bucky made sure of it because, god, it would be embarrassing if anyone there recognized him. It wasn't long before you flopped down on the bed and spread your legs for him like magic. You didn't know if it was because he looked like a movie star during the golden age of Hollywood or because of how mysterious he was, but Bucky made you weak. So weak that you didn't care if this was the first and last time he would touch you. You feel his rough fingertips slowly slide off the panties you've soaked, seeing your hole overfilled with your wetness. Bucky slides his warm hand in between your folds, causing you to jerk your hips slightly, trying to keep them down as your chest starts to rise.

Bucky lets out a dry chuckle. "you're sensitive, how...cute." he mocks you.

The disgusting thing about it is that you liked how he mocked you, watching you squirm as he spits down on your clit, saliva hanging from his lips as he leans down and slips his tongue in your mouth. You open your jaw a little more so he could explore your mouth, watching him pull away before feeling the freezing metal from his other arm hit your clit at full force. At this point, that's where your heartbeat was, and the cool metal was making it worse. You gasp and let out a quiet moan as you look into Bucky's eyes; he knew that would get you. watching as you shut your thighs around his arm, he roughly pries them open. "I don't think so." he damn-near growls at you. a chill ran up your spine before feeling two cold fingers slam into your hole, your walls closing in on his index and middle finger as he holds it there. What a fucking tease. your clit was begging for attention as he looked down at you. "not so talkative now, huh?"

You arch your back, practically offering him your body as your eyes beg him to move his fingers, but he doesn't. he keeps them there to remind you of how helpless you indeed were. Not like you didn't know; you were vulnerable for him for a whole week. He slowly moves his fingers out of you, carefully rubbing them on your bottom lip before you eventually obliged and sucked them dry. The sound of coin slot machines echoed in the room as you shakily closed your legs, squeezing them shut before feeling your chest heave - you were already orgasming? To be fair, you have been teasing yourself for a good hour before Bucky waltzed in. a deep moan left your mouth as your thighs shook and coated themselves in your cum. Your back was getting sweaty as your cheeks turned bright pink. Bucky watched as your body compulsed. You could tell he loved the show but was disappointed that it wasn't him making you shake like that.

Bucky watched as your body tried to maintain itself, finally calming down after your rolling orgasm as the sound of coin slot machines went crazy. You weren't letting yourself catch a break as you felt your clit throb for more. That's when you felt Bucky move—dragging you off to the edge of the bed and sitting down. Having you lay across his lap. You've seen and read enough porn to know exactly what was going on and obliged happily. You watched him slowly take off his tank top before making it into a ball and stuffing it in your mouth; a makeshift gag, if you will. Your right-hand touched his chest and feels him up as he keeps you in a comfortable position. Now, you couldn't think about the timid and traditional man that came knocking so he could get some sleep; your mind bombarded with thoughts of the eager and somewhat perverted sweetheart that was helping you relieve yourself after pulling you away.

His hand hits your ass hard, and you gasp and whine in pain, feeling your body tense up as he smacks it again. The noises from the laptop ringing again made you want to follow through on your habit, so bucky spreads your legs and then spanks you, hitting your ass and cunt with full force. Moans with hints of pain muffled through your gag. he seems amused, seeing your clit turn red and raw from the amount of spanking he did; you shake and quiver every time he spanks you and misses; which is often. By then, you were already horny again. Bucky stuffs three fingers in you unexpectedly, causing you to let out a loud moan. His warm hand goes to your mouth, covering it and shoving the gag deeper into your mouth, causing the fabric to tickle your throat and gag reflexes. Tears come to your eyes as Bucky decides to tease you by leaving them in there. again.

You feel the walls close in on his fingers and ache for them to move, so when he finally does drive them, you feel a wave of euphoria hit you. He curled his fingers as the metal slid in and out of you, causing you to spill out in moans. You were almost glad he improvised a gag because it would be embarrassing if your neighbor, Miss Chen, realized you didn't have a cat. Your heartbeat begins to steady itself, something you were grateful for before Bucky places his cold thumb on your clit and rubbed you like he was playing a scratch-off lottery ticket. It felt like a dam broke between your thighs as you wiggled and tried not to give in so quickly. But you couldn't help it. He was overstimulating you to the extreme.

Your thighs begin to shake as a tear or two rolls down your cheek from how overwhelming it felt, but you couldn't imagine yourself being anywhere besides his lap. Feeling him spread you out and spank you as you wiggle more and more for his touch, even if your clit was starting to swell up. Bucky was too preoccupied with you that he probably didn't notice how hard he was getting; your right-hand slides over to his clothed cock as you gently squeeze it, hearing a soft but deep groan as Bucky leaves another red and purple mark on your ass. "take my fingers first, then we'll see." he raspily tells you, but you knew you weren't going to last long. You longed to have him inside of you.

And he knows.

he knows you won't last that long either, maybe he's alluding to round two? not that you had the energy to think coherent thoughts as a tsunami wave of pleasure hits you. heavy breaths as your chest rises and falls flat, as you creamed all over his hand, your cheeks turning a deep shade of crimson as his curled fingers hits the right spot one last time. if heaven was a place on earth, it was on this man's lap. you look at him, your eyes glossed over and your cheeks red as Bucky pulls out the balled up tank top out of your mouth. you pant and looked over to your laptop screen, seeing the money you made rack up more and more. speechless, you glimpsed at bucky before planting a sweet kiss on his lips, only for him to glance at you and say:

"guess I can finally sleep now."                                                    .·:*¨༺♱༻¨*:·.

[evans-heaven]

Feelings; Joseph Quinn

Part 2 of Touch!!! I cannot thank y’all enough for the response on that fic. I never used to get that many notes on my writing in the past, so to have it happen is just the best. Anyway, you and Joe confess your obvious feelings for one another in this one, but not before a little self indulgence on my part lmao. Prepare for a repost if this doesn’t show up in his tags like last time bc tumblr is a mess.

Read Touch here

More moments here

Read Scene here

Pairing: Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, pining, FLUFF, touching (a lot, seriously,) reader is an overthinker but that’s okay, subpar written confession because I’m burnt out y’all, unedited for now

WC: 2.5k

Ever since the D&D game video dropped, Stranger Things’ corner of the internet remained a complete and utter mess. It graduated from the YouTube comments to damn near everywhere else. Wherever you turned on any social media app, there was a TikTok edit, a Twitter thread, a YouTube compilation, or a link to a Cosmo article, all about your moments with Joseph, which happened on camera. Things were already pretty hectic with the events and ships happening within the show, but when speculation grew of a romance happening outside of the show, well, the public took it and ran with it. 

Things between you and Joseph stayed relatively the same, platonically attached. It was as though millions of people weren’t talking about how ‘obviously into each other’ you two were, granted he even knew about that. Nothing changed for you personally, either. It wasn’t like you were unaware of your growing feelings for Joseph before people started noticing. Your racing heart and unstoppable smile whenever he laid a gentle hand on you, or was simply just around you, was enough of a giveaway to yourself.

One thing was for certain though, you weren’t going to say anything. You felt like you had done a pretty decent job keeping your feelings masked. You had a good, comfortable thing with Joseph going. You felt secure around him-content. Nothing should have to ruin that. Keeping quiet and convincing yourself he didn’t feel the way you did was the best option. Plus, dating co-stars was a big, fat ‘no’ in Hollywood. A somewhat outdated rule, sure, but you intended to adhere to it.

No matter how hard it was starting to become.

And you were reminded of just how hard it would be, by your current situation.

The two of you laid in your room in your Los Angeles apartment, Top Gun playing on the television across from your bed. Joseph was propped up against the quilted headboard, his arm securely around your body as your head laid on his chest. 10 minutes prior, he noticed you were nodding off and opened his arms in a wordless invitation-like always.

“You’re not mad this is putting me to sleep?” you had asked, halfway smirking. You burrowed your head into his plaid shirt, the smell of his cologne flooding your nose.

“Why would it?,” he asked, rubbing your shoulder soothingly. 

“Well, it was my idea to watch this movie,” you said. He had been begging you to go see Top Gun: Maverick with him since it came out, and you agreed, though you wanted to watch the original first. So, you made a night out of it, and about two hours prior, he showed up to your door with kettle corn and sour skittles, and you supplied the wine and pizza. 

He was particularly excited about the latter. Even if it had been a few years since he had to give up pizza to lose weight for Eddie, he still felt like he had to make up for all the lost pie. He immediately dug in, and you remembered swiping away some sauce from the side of his mouth with your thumb, which he had swiftly licked clean for you. 

That, you blamed on the wine.

“True,” he admitted, fingers crawling down to your rib cage, making you shiver a bit. “But I’m not going pass up on the opportunity to hold you,”

You couldn’t reply when he had said that, you just remained completely still and quiet. Though, the tingling in your cheeks at his words indicated that you were not as unbothered as you wanted to seem. 

It wasn’t a secret that the two of you loved each other’s embrace, though neither of you had ever said it outloud, either, at least to one another. The only time you could remember was one time on set when, during a break, you had your arms wrapped around Joseph’s shoulders while he sat in a director’s chair, his fingers laced with yours as you spoke. Gaten jokingly made a comment about your constant attachment to each other, and Joseph had simply said, “I rather enjoy that constant attachment.”

A photo of the two of you in that position was posted on the Stranger Things instagram story, along with various other BTS photos. It was only the back of you, but, like any other relationship speculation, it was all anyone needed to turn an inch into a mile. God forbid two friends hold each other in a way that is actually very platonic, thank you very much.

Joseph’s hand dragged down further, meeting your hip, dangerously close to your backside, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“You fall asleep on me, love?” he asked, and you quickly recovered from his previous words, his actions, and his pet name for you, and shook your head lightly. 

“No, I wanna at least wait for the movie to….,” you trailed off, looking up at the screen to see the end credits rolling. “...end,” you deadpanned. You didn’t realize that much time had passed. “So much for that,” you shrugged.

Joseph chuckled as you stretched across him to grab the remote, and switched the TV off. You got up and began gathering the dirty dishes-the plates, wine glasses and the popcorn bowl. You made your way to the kitchen and heard his footsteps coming after you. 

You began loading the dishwasher when he spoke. “Did you enjoy it, at least?” he asked.

“I enjoyed seeing a young Tom Cruise,” you laughed, and it was true. That was the only thought you remembered having, that 23 year old Tom was hot. Deuxmoi asshole allegations be damned.

“Fair enough,” he said, and you heard the teasing edge in his voice. “I’d love to stay and have a one-sided conversation about the movie, but I should get going, I have a meeting in the morning,” he said. You turned around and saw he leant against the counter, arms crossed.

You smiled, ignoring his little dig at you, knowing it wasn’t serious. “Ooh, is that face gonna grace the TV screen again soon?” you teased. You were a little disappointed, though, almost wishing you had fallen asleep. He always stayed over when you did, mostly because he’d doze off shortly after you. 

He chuckled and shook his head, stepping forward, arms opening. “Maybeeee,” he drew out his answer as you happily walked into his embrace, arms locking around his torso. One of his arms wrapped around your body, the other held the back of your head, pressing your face into his collarbone. 

It didn’t matter how many times you had been in his arms, the goodbye hugs always made your nerves explode the most. The two of you always embraced like the other was going on a month long trip to a place with no wifi, cell or postal service. 

The two of you loosened the embrace after what felt like forever, but your arms hung around each other still. “You know I really would stay if I could,” he said, taking your chin in his grip.

“I know,” you nodded. “But, you have casting directors to wow in the morning,” you smiled.

“Let’s hope I do,” he replied, grinning. “Have a good night, babes,” he muttered, staring down at you intensely.

“You too,” you said back just as softly, butterflies flittering in your stomach.

When you thought he’d turn away and leave, his hold on your chin remained, his hanging mouth open as though there was more he wanted to say. The words, however, seemed to die on his tongue. His large brown eyes examined your face, quivering as they did.

“You good, Joe?” you asked, tilting your head.

He hesitated, literally freezing up for a second, before he snapped out of…whatever it was, and shook his head. “Yeah, I’m alright. I’ll call you tomorrow,” he mumbled out quickly. He released you entirely and speed walked towards the door, sliding out quickly as you looked at him in confusion. The door closed behind him, quiet harshly.

“Okay, then,” you said to yourself as you stood there, staring at the brown wooden surface.

Did he just shut your own door in your face?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You hadn’t mulled over Joseph’s odd little moment before he left for too long. It was after 1 AM and you were too tired to overthink about that man. You hopped in the bath for a quick shower, changed into some lacey pajamas and crawled back into bed.

You were making yourself comfortable when the sound of rapid knocking on your front door made you jolt up. Before you could wonder who the hell was showing up at your door in the middle of the night, the knocks became more insistent. You threw the comforter off your body and got out of bed, making your way towards the door, turning the living room light on. The rapid fists landing against the door made it vibrate, and you knew you weren’t the only one it woke up. You expected a complaint from the Karen next door in the morning.

You unlocked the door, surprise replacing your annoyance as you saw it was Joseph, looking frantic, leaning against the door frame, supported by his forearm.

“Joe? Did you forget so-” you began, but he cut you off.

“I need to tell you something,” he said, looking into your eyes. His own held a look of desperation within them.

“Okay….,” you said, stepping out of the way so he could enter. He walked in slowly, hands rubbing nervously at his jeans. You heard him let out a couple of heavy breaths.

“Wanna sit down, have some water?” you offered. It had been a while since he left at first, and from the looks of it, he obviously ran back here to tell you whatever it is he had to tell you.

“No, no, I just…have to get this out,” he turned to face you, visibly hyping himself up, and any tiredness you had began to fizzle out, because this was obviously eating at him. Your brain began to swarm with the possibilities of what he could be wanting to tell you, trying and failing to ignore the negative, outrageous shit that your anxious mind conjured up.  For some reason you began to think he was going to tell you to fuck off of and that your little relationship was stifling and burdensome.

Fuck you, anxiety.

He put you out of your misery, somewhat, when he started talking, the words tumbling out rapidly. “Okay, so, I’ve been trying to come up with an entire plan on how I would do this, what I would say, when I would say it. I’ve felt this way for three years now and it’s killing me to keep it to myself any longer-”

You furrowed your brows, and held up a hand to stop him. “Joe, slow down-”

“-and now, here I am trying to spill my guts to you in the middle of the night after running back here, looking like a proper idiot, and you’re probably wondering ‘what the fuck is wrong with him’-”

“Joe, can you-”

“-and I’m wondering if this was a mistake, should I not have listened to those comments on YouTube I spent hours reading, talking about the way you look at me, maybe it give me wasted hope, am I about to ruin everything between us because you won’t feel the same way I do,”

Your eyes widened. You didn’t try to stop him again, because you physically felt frozen.

He breathed in, his chest puffing out. “But I just need,” he stressed, “To let you know this. It’s become physically painful to be around you and hold it in now,”

A beat or two of silence passed as the two of you just looked at each other, you with anticipation, him with determination. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he finished breathily.

And just like that, a moment you could only dream of in recent years, was finally happening. Your eyes were still wide, but a smile pulled at your lips, your gaze unwavering.

“From that first table read, I loved how easily we clicked, even if you seemed so shy at first, but I love how vivacious you became. I love how close we got, and how that closeness just increased by thousands,” he uttered, he took a step towards you, but he paused again. 

You began walking toward him, face relaxing. He continued.

“I love how much we make each other laugh even when whatever it was, wasn’t that funny. I love movie nights with you, even though you never stay awake long enough for them. I love how I feel like I can tell you anything, even when I get scared and ramble way too much, like I did just now,” he paused and chuckled as you stopped dead in front of him, a good inch between you. You looked up at him, lips folded in, eyes searching his face, waiting for him to finish.

He laid a large palm on your cheek, thumb resting at the corner of your mouth. “I love your beautiful fucking face, and this goddamn smile,”

He dropped his hand and took yours with it, lacing your fingers together and looked at the entanglement for a second. He squeezed your hand, fingers pressing into the back of it, almost like he wanted to ground himself and make sure this was actually happening. 

“I love how it feels when we touch each other, and I don’t know if you’ve felt it too, but its literally the best fucking feeling in the world to me,” he spoke. 

Oh, you felt it too, alright.

“And it's what told me the most, that I was absolutely, undoubtedly, 100%, in love with you,” by the tone of his voice and finality within it, you knew he was done.

You realized you had become numb to any nerves you thought you would feel during a moment like this. You thought your heart would beat so fast your body would tremble, and you would’ve choked on your own words so badly it would hurt. Somehow, hearing his confession gave you the assurance you needed in yourself, and you didn’t doubt him for a second. Your overthinking ceased in its entirety. You nearly regretted driving yourself crazy trying to suppress your feelings. He was here, in front of you, telling you how you felt, echoing every word you ever wanted to say to him. 

Your sudden boost of confidence led you to take charge of the next move. You undid your hand from his, and draped your arms around his neck.

“You done?” you asked, beginning to lean in slowly.

His hands gripped at your waist, tugging you closer, almost desperately. “Yeah,” he whispered.

“You sure?” you asked, lips so close to his that a soft breeze could bring them together.

“Yeah,” he practically whined.

“Good,” your voice came out barely audible.

And without another word, you pressed your lips to his own, pouring in every inkling that you could, that you felt the same way about him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m sorry for leaving y’all hanging there at the end, but I wanted to leave the rest of the night open for interpretation😙 I am also, like I said in the warnings, burnt out 😅 so this will most likely be last fic for a while, at least until volume 2 comes out. But thank you Eddie and Joseph for reminding me how much I love writing. I’ve missed this shit so much lol.

Hope you all enjoyed💕

[finelinevogue]

Yes!! Your writing is top tier!! Harry and Y/N having a cheeky little convo in their backyard while the sun sets

oh god stop it’s not really! but thank you!!;

May 16th 2022

“How was that then?”

Harry was sat beside the pool, still in the same interview attire with the mint green Harry’s House sweater. He was watching the last of the sun go down as the fire pits started making up for the lost light.

You walked over to him, dressed in a dress you had been wearing today that was a gorgeous rose pink, with two cups of tea in hand. Your feet were bare and you could feel the cool of the pool stones underneath your feet, due to the sun dying beyond the horizon.

“What? The interview?” You nodded when he asked. “Really good. I’m really happy with what I said and what we talked about.”

“Good. I’m glad.” You said, handing him his cup and placing yours down on the floor before you sat down yourself.

“Thanks. Is it the green tea m’mum shipped over?”

“Um, no. I think it was some sort of green tea from Walmart or something.” You shrugged, allowing your feet to dangle into the pool water. It was so soft and warm against your ankles.

“Need to ask her to send some over then.” He said, taking a sip before placing it back down.

“Not ready to go home then?”

You’d been having this conversation a lot, about when you should go back over to England. Sometimes it was as if Harry neglected it on purpose and you were always unsure of why, but you knew he also missed his mum and sister especially. You’d tried to get him to really consider going back recently, but work kept on tying him to California.

“You know I can’t.” He dropped his head and you went back to softly kicking your feet in the water.

“Mhm.”

“What?” He asked, making you look up at him.

“What?”

“You’re doing that thing where you have something to say but you’re being too polite to say it.” He raised his eyebrows and it was annoying how well he knew you. After 4 years today you’d think he would really know you though.

“I am?”

“Yes. Now tell me. Please.”

You gripped your hands on the edge of the pool instead of taking a sip from your tea. It was too hot anyways and you probably wouldn’t drink from it for another 20 minutes.

“It’s just… Does this feel like home to you, H?” Referring to not just this house but also California in general.

“I, uh, I guess?”

“Okay.” You nodded your head, not sure how else to talk to him about this when he had different views. And after such a good day and a good interview, you’d hate to upset him and ruin it now.

It was comfortable silence for a few minutes. Neither of you spoke but you could feel where the conversation might lead to next. You both watched the last bright bolt of sun dip below the crests of the valley hills and listened to the crickets chirp their funny noises. You knew you’d have to go inside soon, due to how cool it got in the evenings out here, but for now you were both content sitting in each others presence.

“You’re trying to tell me something, aren’t you?” Harry asked.

You nodded, but didn’t say anything else. 

“Talk to me then baby.” He softly pushed, reaching over one of his hands to touch yours. He slipped his fingers through yours the best he could and you both melted at the homey contact.

“I don’t want to tell you like this.” You shook your head, trying to remove your hand from his but he wouldn’t let you. 

He brought is other hand to the other side of your body and shifted you along the floor until you were pressed up beside him. He twisted his body around and took ahold of your other hand, so both of his could fully clasp onto yours. He kissed your hands to show you that he was here for you and he loved you - more than you would ever comprehend. 

“Are you hurt? Are you in trouble? Is someone dying?” He asked quickly, trying to think of things that could possibly be wrong.

“I never said what I had to tell you was bad news.” You smiled.

“Then what, love?” He smiled back, reassuring you in any way he could.

“England has always been your home, H. Not just because it’s where you were born but because there’s family there. And because it’s your home, it’s also become mine. I love it there so much. I, um, I just don’t feel that here. Don’t get me wrong I adore this place so much, it’s beautiful, but I never feel settled. I want to feel settled. I want to feel at home. Especially now.” 

“Why now?” 

“Because we’re pregnant, H.” You breathed out, it feeling more of a relief to get it out rather than excitement. You were unsure what his reaction was going to be, so you had prepared yourself in this moment for anything.

“We’re pregnant?” He whispered, his eyes glossing over slightly. “I mean, you’re pregnant. There’s a baby in there and you’re going to be a mum and I’ll get to be a dad...” 

It sounded like his rushed words were going to turn into something more, but he couldn’t stop himself from simply crying. His body was overcome with tears and heavy sobs and you could tell by his body language and the tone of the cries that he was too happy. So overly happy that he was upset - and yes that was a thing. He was overjoyed. A feeling that didn’t come so often but when it did he didn’t know how to handle it. His body fell into yours, with his head resting on your chest. You detached your hands from his and scooped them around his back to cradle him.

Your own tears built, but more because you were happy to see Harry happy than anything. You felt his head dip down and his lips kiss over your dress on your stomach a few times, whispering ‘I love you’ in between each one. He then lifted his body up and found you. 

He cupped your cheeks and pressed his lips against yours fiercely, kissing you with every ounce of love he had inside of him. He kissed and kissed, dessert mixing with tea, until he knew that you both needed to breathe. His lips were crimson red when he pulled away from how harsh the kiss had been, yours slightly puffy too. 

“I fucking love you, y’know?” He choked out between hiccuping tears. “And I would do anything for you and, now, this one. If you want to go home baby, we’ll go home. I swear I love you so much and it’s my goddamn job to make sure you both have a happy life.” 

“But not at the expense of your own happiness H. So if you want to stay here, that’s okay.” You nodded, but he shook his head.

“No. I want our baby to grow up where I grew up and with the people I grew up with too. I want normal and this is all too Hollywood to be normal.” He explained and you understood him perfectly, because you felt exactly the same. 

“I’m so happy you’re happy.” You laughed.

“Of course I’m happy, lovie. You are the single most important person in my life, but now you’re giving me another. That’s special and I’m glad I’m doing it with you.” 

Then he kissed you again, showing you just how special you were.

[benevolentcalamity]

Code: S.O.S (Xenomorph x Female!Reader) [1/2]

I actually wrote this already but deleted it so it never made it to be a published post. So have the (hopefully good) rewrite of what’s essentially Alien: Blackout!

This isn’t connected to Rescue Mission, just wanted to get used to writing Xenomorphs. This is what the people want yo.

CURTAINS!

You must have been crying since forever.

You failed them. Every single one of them.

In a mission meant simply to be a ‘find and retrieve’ rescue mission, you and the crew - you're just acting second in command, or were - went out to find the ship The Ambassador for emergency crew extraction. The exact message was an S.O.S, stating an unknown threat on the ship. They didn’t know what exactly this threat was, nor did they seem to want to. All they wanted was to, and you quote, “Get the hell off this bitch.”

To make it short, it turns out that two of the rescued astronauts were infested with some sort of parasite. When those parasites emerged, your captain, Weiss, crushed one under his heel in reflex. The other sadly got away - and that was just yesterday. Since then the ship’s been on lockdown. It’s a good size one, belonging to some of the best in the company, so this is viable.

So why are you here, pulling yourself together at your captain’s desk?

Well... The one parasite that made it grew up faster than anticipated. You’re genuinely not sure what happened, only that you woke up to Weiss shoving you into a locker. You remember he told you to be quiet, and then nothing from him.

... He was dead. You just knew it.

When there was a lull in the noise, you crept out of the locker, darting between different covers until you made it here.

So now you’re here, in a locked room, staring at a camera system you’ve never worked with until now. While you’ve learned how to flip between cameras on the different monitors you don’t know it like Weiss did. Not a notebook of directions, not even a Microsoft Word sort of program to direct you on how to use it. Suppose Weiss was counting on coming back.

Swallowing, you straighten your back, flipping through cameras with trembling fingers.

Finally, after moments more like eternity, you find the creature.

It’s black and towering, something that can’t possibly be real. Only having seen such beasts in those comics you saw in minute peeks at the bookstore, you can only wonder, if for a moment, that maybe it’s one giant prank. But then you recall Weiss, recall the blood reeking from the vents, and finally you’re snapped back to reality.

This thing killed everyone, down to the strongest people you know. Whether it knows you’re still alive is beyond you, but once you start taking action against it is when the real show begins.

... 

You swallow, a bead of sweat falling onto your sleeve.

“I’m going to die here...” You mutter. “... But I have to try.”

Managing to figure out the system, you find an option to send out a distress signal. If someone responds to it, you’ll be able to hear it - by some miracle someone will come by. Deciding it’s now or never you press it, and to your relief there’s no blaring of alarms to set anything off, just an icon blinking on a smaller monitor.

Setting your lips in a firm line, you keep your eyes on the creature. Resolute acceptance of death isn’t fueling you, but the basic instinct to survive. If you want to live, you have to act. If you don’t act, you will die. So if you want to make it back home, act.

“Ok, let’s do this...”

---

Just like the crying earlier, you’re not sure how long you’ve been at this.

As predicted, the moment you set off an alarm and trapped the creature, it knew that something else was in here with it. Despite not knowing the full extent of its abilities or capabilities - you don’t even know what it’s called - you’re willing to throw what you have out to keep it occupied long enough to get out of here. Comms are still open, and the distress signal is going strong, so this will continue until a ship comes and gets you, or one of you drops dead.

You aren’t strong, and you’re not brave. Matter of fact becoming an astronaut of any kind was better than anything that posed genuine danger. If anything you wanted to do something that’d get you somewhere, even if it was in outer space.

Quite honestly, you’d prefer being on the moon than in here.

“That’s some bullshit, [Name].” You can hear Weiss’s voice in your head. “A minute of bouncing on your damn head and you’ll be begging to be back here.”

It’s one way to keep something else than the fear in your head.

Blinking, you notice something... off-

“Where is it?” You about fly upright, flipping through the cameras. “Shit, shit, shit-! Where are you?!”

Frantically looking between the monitors, your ears are open wide just as your eyes, fearful adrenaline sharpening your senses and hands. With laser precision you’re pressing the buttons you need to, eventually noticing the motion trigger in one of the overlays.

That’s the Medical Bay - directly down the hall. Hurriedly you find that camera, seeing the creature creeping towards the exit. A quick jab, and you overload and close the door to the bay. In response you swear you can hear it scream through the walls, the vents... It’s reverberating in your head and it’s not even right next to you or anything.

Swallowing, you take a deep breath. “Crisis averted... But I have to be more careful.”

Of course your confidence is up a little considering you’ve made it this long, but you’re still jumping at your own shadow from time to time. Every movement still means death is incoming, and your clock is running low. Fuck, you’re not even sure if you can make it without risking a trip to scrounge for food and drink. It’s something you never thought about.

Wiping some sweat from your brow you take a moment to survey the other cameras. If you can cut the power in certain places, you can likely limit this thing’s visibility and give you some safety... But you also need to consider you might not have that luxury. Even if it can’t see in the dark, you can’t solely depend on that to keep you safe. Sending it somewhere would buy you some time while you meander in the dark.

Then again, is there a point to being in the dark if it’s somewhere else?

“If I can lure it over to the maintenance bay, I should be able to get to the canteen,” You murmur. “I can get some water and something to survive on until a ship comes.” You hope it lasts that long.

Deciding to take the risk, you find the maintenance bay security overlay. With a quick tap of a button it sets off some steam in the corner- ... Oh yea, the maintenance bay also deals with hot water. Oops. Hurriedly setting it to max before tapping it closed again you check on the medical bay - just as the creature hops up into the vents.

Oh that’s... that’s the opposite of good. If it can get into the vents, then...

You shake your head. No, no. It’s fine. I just need to be really careful and mind the vents... Let’s see...

For security and safety reasons there is indeed a camera overlay in the vent system. It’s moreso to make sure the maintenance guy is unharmed and doing his job, but also to see if there’s anything else to be aware of before calling said maintenance guy. You never understood the logic behind it, but it is saving your ass right now - your heart just doesn’t know it yet.

You glance above you, eventually noticing a vent right behind you on the ceiling. “... That’s just perfect...”

If Weiss were here, you’d have so many questions...

Checking the maintenance bay cameras, you about swoon when the creature lands in there. Now’s your chance-!

Getting up, you scurry over to the door, disabling the emergency override lock system. Swallowing, you about hold your breath as you creep down the hallway. It’s quiet - deathly quiet. With light steps you cut corners and keep looking back and around. At any point it could get back in the vents and track you down, so you have to be quick but also mindful.

Blinking, you turn the corner and swoon at a pair of lights, red and blue, at the far wall. “Bingo.” Closing in, you make out that damn Pepsi logo, beside it the bright red snack thing, because that was needed in space. (Davidson, the engineer, liked joking that it was like being in college, given it screamed redundancy.)

Reaching, you find your keys - more habitual than convenient - and unlock both machines. Opening them you find some bottles of water, some protein bars, chocolate, and other non-noisy things. Putting them in your pockets snug as a bug, you turn and scurry back down the halls.

This is genuine madness, possibly buffoonery as well. But if one thing’s going to give you away, you’d rather it be your own stupidity than your empty stomach. Practicality’s also at work, considering you stayed away from the chips and soda, appealing as it was. You can’t afford being careless. Though, when you make it home alive you will have the biggest coke of your life and the juiciest steak money can buy-

thump, thump

“Shit...” It’s in the vents. “Ok, double time.”

Deciding to get a bit more ballsy you quicken your light steps, at this point realizing how close you are to detection. As the thumping continues, seeming to reach into your brain, you eventually find the office-

A particularly loud thump, followed by a thud and then a hiss, just a good distance behind you. Whirling around, you-

... There it is. With a flick of its tail it looks around, back to you. Swallowing you back into the office, trying not to loudly slam your hand into the emergency override as the door closes. When the red light symbolizing the lock lights up you sigh in relief, rushing to the monitors and finding your office overlay.

Hell yeah. You press the button to close the vent. “This is gonna mess with the temperature, so I can’t leave it long... But that should give me some breathing room.”

Swallowing, you retie your hair in a ponytail, checking comms.

Your heart leaps, seeing a blip on the monitor. Holding down the communicator button, you lean in towards the mic.

“Hello? Is anyone there? This is [Name] [Last Name], acting second-in-command of The Far Reach. If anyone can hear this, please respond immediately!”

[fluffyprettykitty]

Night Fillings

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem! reader (no other specifications)

Word Count: 874 words

Outline: Night session with your favourite neighbor. PWP.

Warnings: Mean! Dom! Matt, unprotected sex, light exhibitionism, riding, degradation, use of slut, light biting, if I missed anything or tagged something wrong please let me know!

Author’s Note: first time writing smut for my favourite baby boy, thank you so so so much to @late-to-the-party-81​ for beta reading this and helping me out, and to @bitchassbucky​ for encouraging me with this piece. Mwah. 

P.S: dividers by @firefly-graphics​

🌟 Please reblog and comment if you want to, all feedback is appreciated and warmly encouraged 🌟

Main Masterlist ・❥・Matt Murdock Masterlist

THIS IS A NSFW DRABBLE. MINORS PLEASE DNI. 

Matt sighed deeply at the feeling of the figure in front of him. You were ready and almost too desperate, waiting for his touch, your body squirming. His beloved touch, the only reason why you’d left your friends in the middle of your night out and jumped ship once you saw him. You couldn’t deny what he gave you. Who else could give you more?

As for him, he was cocky, way too cocky, as his eyes glistened, his breath hitched, with you on top of him, some clothes thrown on the floor, others half off, his tie around your neck, your hands on his head ruffling his hair before gripping it. 

What a sight to see, the good girl next door riding her neighbor like her life depended on it. From the drawn window the sight of you bouncing up and down on his cock, struggling to take him all in, could be seen and you didn't mind it at all. 

“Come on sweetheart, I know you can do better than that, didn’t practically beg me to come back with your sweet ass to your house just for you to disappoint me, huh?”

He was barely moving, a smirk curled on his lips. He could feel all that was running through your body and mind, your insides burning with your desire, but unfortunately, you were not used to it, used to him; some things are way too tight. You kept on struggling, the sound of his chuckle filling you with more confidence that you could do this. You were trying harder, rotating your hips and trying to stretch yourself more, as you gripped on his hair, a loud moan escaping from your lips. He only laughed a little, his chest vibrating with the low sound. 

“Looks like you got all the time in the world, little one”

In the cold of the night, your breathing was getting heavy and uneven, his hands firmly outstretched on the couch beside him, not helping at all with your struggle, instead of wanting to hear, and indulge in, all of the sounds you were making. Your mouth hung open, wet sounds filling the room. oh, he loved it so much, you could tell by the way his cock twitched inside your pussy.

You switched from rotating your hips to bouncing up and down again, his girth burning you so much that it made you squeal. His enhanced hearing allowed him to hear all of your micro noises caused by the way his cock was stretching you out, increasing his pride. 

Delicately, but needily, your hands moved from his hair to his shoulders, steadying yourself as you pushed against him, finally sinking down. With a loud groan, you stilled for a moment trying to adjust to his size.

Then he laughed for a second time. Oh, he was cocky all right. 

"Finally managed to take me all the way in, huh? Was starting to get bored over here, felt like taking a nap. " 

You began to whine at his words, even though you loved it because you wanted to please him so bad 

"Matt please, I can't -fuck Matt is it’s too big, I can't, it burns, please, please, please." Your words sounded like a chant, and he did love it when women begged, the more desperate the better.

His eyes darkened as he suddenly, and forcibly, grabbed your hands by your wrists and wrapped his body around yours, turning you around and pushing your body to the couch. You tipped your ass up in anticipation, arching your back and helping him push his cock inside you from behind. He didn’t waste a moment as he thrust inside you hard, one big arm now next to your face, the other hand holding your wrists, his chin above your head.

He pounded into you hard and fast, both your heart rates rising. 

He held your wrists hostage with his strong hands as he is pounded inside you at a brutal pace, devouring your body and ruining you for any other man, just as he wanted. Your mouth hung open, only unintelligible grunts leaving your lips. 

"Is this what you wanted, sweetheart, to get fucked by my cock,? You thought you could take it, that you could handle it?" He shook his head

"No you fucking can't, only I know what you can take or not. Crawling to me like a pathetic little slut wanting to get filled. No one else can fuck you like I do, huh? "

Soon though, you felt a warmth inside you as he finished, filling you up with what you had craved the most. The burn was finally gone, leaving you filled with his seed and wondering what he was going to do next as he placed soft, tender kisses on your shoulder, having bitten you as he came, slowing his movements until his hips stopped completely.

"Time to scream more, baby girl.” 

He tapped on your back, pulling out of it and turning you around again. You looked at him, blissfully fucked but in need of more. He knelt in front of you and left a trail of kisses from your belly to your pussy.

Oh, this was going to be a long-ass night!

[anyroads]

I recently found this book that I used to love as a kid about the Titanic when I was going through stuff at my parents’ house. It was published in 1987. As you can see on the cover, it’s written for kids grades 2-3. That’s ages 7-8. I felt the need to share some highlights from it.

Right off the bat, this book doesn’t fuck around. Yes, those are people jumping to their icy wet deaths as the people stuck on the deck flail in panic. This is just the cover, and I respect its honesty. It prepares you for what’s ahead.

The book starts with a basic intro which I didn’t bother to take pictures of because it’s boring. The ship is as long as 4 city blocks, here’s a cross section showing the dining room and the squash courts bla bla bla. And then...

Judy Donelly said eat the rich.

*ominous music plays*

Bla bla bla the ship hits an iceberg, the alarm is sounded.

I’m honestly impressed with how this book teaches 7-8 year olds  both about a historic event and how to set up tension in a horror story. Added bonus for the mocking undertone of 8 decades hindsight. “They still think they are on a ship that cannot sink.” Lol, look at these idiots thinking they aren’t about to die. I can almost hear the author giggling.

Kind of an apt anti-vaxxer metaphor? Anyway, continuing on the theme of eating the rich.

Budding young writers, pay heed to the power of contrasting happy music with a grim narrative for maximum tension creation. Even so, I’m now beginning to think the main goal of this book is to teach children about mortality and the inevitability of death?

Behold death in its beautifully morbid, awesome power. Loving both the close up and wide shot of people jumping.

Lesson #42 of writing a horror story: once you’ve set up your contrasting imagery, rip away the positive tones to highlight the stark terror of your climactic moment for peak cathartic effect.

Just wanted to highlight the continuing imagery of people falling to their deaths. In a pre-9/11 world you could draw things like this in children’s books. The literary equivalent of walking your loved ones to the gate at the airport.

I’m convinced this was James Cameron’s inspiration for that scene in Titanic. Not this story, this specific book. Remember, it was published in 1987. Titanic didn’t come out until a decade later.

Anyway, bla bla the survivors are rescued bla bla Robert Ballard invented an underwater robot and went to find the Titanic’s wreck. And find it he did!

This image is one of the reasons I decided to become an archaeologist. I had already spent my childhood reading books on ancient hominids and cave paintings and ancient Egypt, but this image launched a full-on obsession with archaeology and uncovering lost histories in me that lasted years. However, since my life is about as inspiring as this book, I feel compelled to tell you that once I found out that an archaeology degree involves math and science requirements, I immediately gave up on this goal and veered off course to work in film, despite having seen several James Cameron movies.

[roguetonorth]

Off track

Requested by @darklordofthesimp: 21# and 52# - "please look at me" - "shh, stop moving"

Pairing: din djarin x gn!reader

Summary: when the mandalorian takes a job, doesn't tell you its location and asks you to stay behind, you decide to do something about it. Which leads your mutual feelings to bobble up to the surface.

warnings: swearing, angsttttt, soft din needs a warning of his own

Word count: 3.763k

a/n: did i take a whole month to write this? Yes. Was it worth it? Not at all. I have no idea what this is and i apologize deeply.

• masterlist • send me a request! •

It would have been like this. Of course it would've been like this.

You knew Din. But he didn’t know you. At least not enough, apparently. Despite the time you spent together ever since rescuing the child- time you spent watching him subtly got you to know him. You knew the tone of his voice, the stance of his shoulders and the uneasiness in the twitch of his fingers when he was nervous. Beneath all the beskar you knew him.

And it gets the best of you to keep that in mind when din acted nothing like himself.

Usually, he'd remember himself and make it up to you. But now, after hours hiding from him in some dark corner of the crest you found it hard to believe he regretted it. Leaving you behind.

You did not believe it at all, actually. You walked over the hull to the cockpit with your arms crossed, without Din's approval and without a single ash of guilt for having sneaked in the ship after a heated negotiation almost got ugly back on tatooine.

"I took the job." He had told you, with that low tone of his, from the corner of the cantina but full of a sharpness that you weren’t used to hearing from him.- not directed to you.

"What?" A discontent frown knitting your brows together as you approached his tensed figure. "What job?"

An almost inaudible, annoyed sigh dropped from beneath the helmet, but his response didn't develop any further than that for a good moment.

Din’s fingers fidgeted against his holster, his glare leaving your direction as soon as he caught you grimacing to yourself. "I won’t be long, Just a few days." With that, the hunter turned around and walked out, ignoring your soft calls for him on his back.

If you had any hopes on Din communicating himself with you, it died on your tongue as you took all of your strength to follow his long strides outside, spinning on your heels to stop him by grabbing his arm, forcing him to glare at you, wide eyed at sudden contact. Plain dark visor reflecting your own gaze. You noticed his chest plate falter.

“Din,”

“no.”

That's when he asked you to stay. And you said you were doing so. And then you did not.

You only made your presence known with a hawked throat noise a few minutes later his quick hands waved over the controls and launched the ship onto hyperspace. Unsure footsteps echoing against the metal floor of the cockpit as the door slid open.

Din's blaster draws in your direction even before his gaze landed on you by over his shoulder. "Alright," you mutter, making your way closer to the pilot chair as you shove his blaster away, "c'mon, it's me." You can feel his gaze burning through as he studies you, although his visor now only reflects the light in speed in front of him.

"Din."

When he finally looks up at you it is only for you to acknowledge that he's aware it's you. And he's not fond of it. "I was afraid so." the mandalorian remarks shortly, the tone dripping frustration almost like he was cursing to himself.

"C'mon, were you really leaving me back in that sand hole? I couldn't even-"

Your voice trails off when he spins in the seat to face you fully. "You were supposed to wait for me." He tilts his helmet back to the transparisteel with a long annoyed sigh.

"You left me behind,” you wreak, anger starting to replace the questioning tone you previously addressed him with as you stood by the pilot seat. Your looming-over stance demanding any kind of regard. And Din does give you that as he looks up at you.

"I'd come back." was all you got in response.

"And what if you didn't?"

This time, His silence is the closest thing to an answer you get.

You didn’t regret following him here. But you do feel like you should have listened to him, now. Din’s told you you could trust him, not only that but he had shown you that plenty of times. You tighten your jaw as you ponder that maybe you hadn’t met him halfway in that matter. Because you changed your mind at the last minute, because you lied to him. But despite that, you wanted to be mad at him, even if he had his reasons. His request wasn’t what made you angry. Because stars above, you’d wait for him to come back to you a hundred cycles. If he had chosen not to hide away every single thing he could from you.

You had no right to brawle at him like that, still. You sink your teeth in your lower lip as you stare at your feet. Din Djarin, in his stubbornness, would rather die than saying anything until you demanded him to, and his angry switch of buttons back on the panel tell you it's better not to.

But you start to get really startled about what could possibly be going through his mind when you realize he is redirectioning the ship's navicomputer.

"What are you doing?" You ask, peeking at the sight of the blue screen that doesn't tell you much.

He offers an answer after he’s finished the task at hand, avoiding your face at all costs. "Turning the ship around."

"I thought we were heading whatever else-"

"I am headed to Corellia. You are going back to Tatooine."

For a moment you think the ship is spinning when you hear the destination. You hadn't discussed much about this job, mostly because he wouldn’t talk properly to you, choosing to keep all the important information to himself. You never asked why he did that. Presumably because you were scared to hear something you didn’t want to.

Now, all of sudden you didn’t care about it all.

"You can't decide that for me!" you beam at him, or more accurately, at his back. Din doesn’t seem to be bothered, as he keeps carefully pushing more buttons instead. Once you’re sure he’s not gonna even look at you anymore, you catch his helmet turning in your direction.

"Listen, I knew this would happen. That’s why you were supposed to stay," his tone, although firm as ever, sounds tender. And it slashes right through your nerves.

Kriff, why had he to be so contradictory?

Deep inside, you knew Din was right. He knew this life longer than you did, and you did give him credit for that. You could say that was the exact and only reason you clung to him for dear life— which wasn’t true. But he would only shy away from you, as he did mentally and had tried to do physically when he left you in tatooine. And so, light-headly, you decided to comply with his wishes.

“No, you listen. I know I only muddle you." you rasped, breath caught on your throat as you tried to go on without letting the forming tears beneath your lashes scape. Unlike him, you tried to voice at least part of your thoughts. “It’s the last time you’ll have to worry about it, though.”

You stared, and stared, and din said nothing. He knew, you weren't seeing him. You thought he left you.

You saw chrome, cold armor.

The air turned thick amidst the silence, and your throat burned as you swallowed a sob. You didn't want to leave him. And you really believed, for a short moment, he didn't want you to.

You decided to take that as your truth as you rushed to leave the cockpit.

The last thing you saw was a pair of soft eyes staring sideways at you from beneath the visor when a hue of light passed beyond the transparisteel.

Your heart leaped to your throat when you felt a gentle, gloved grasp on your wrist stop you on your track.

Din holds your gaze for a long moment, as if he waited for a beat to speak. The delicacy of his touch makes the pit in your stomach grow and you feel like you're caving in. And he would be there to catch you if you did.

He lets out a breath, it's unease and loud, and does nothing to calm his nerves down. When he speaks, the unsureness is evident in both his voice and actions, “I'm not taking you there.” And further else, he sounds broken.

And you couldn’t let yourself care. You refused to. But the truth was that your heart pinched at him. And you told yourself you didn’t care about that either. "why not? You act like it’s not hard for you."

He gives his helmet a shake, leaning closer as he studies your expression. “mesh’la…” Din slowly lifts your hand with his to hold your wrist close to his chest.

Every part of you wants redemption. There’s nothing stopping you from letting him hold you there, to keep you safe like he always tries to do. But you were scared— of having to see him leave you again.

Back when you watched your mandalorian leave under the light of the suns of tatooine— for, what you thought, ever— walking away to a path he chose to leave you uncertain of, you felt like every part of you had been taken away. And if you had to go through it again, you’d swear you would die.

"No." You cut him off, drawing your hand away from where Din kept it. "If you're going to leave me, it doesn't matter where, does it?" Yet again, you writh in a mild try to break away from his grip, put at least some space between you. When you fail at it, you glare up at him, and no matter how hard you try to pull the aloofest expression you can, your lips tremble.

If he was going to leave you anyway, you had to brace yourself. And with him standing just one step away from you acting like he cared so much for you like you did for him, it was just so freaking hard.

Your heart fights your fear, and for a single moment, it loses.

For a second time, you try to whirl away from Din, twirling your arm and shoving his chest plate. His grasp loosens, and your hand slips from his for a hot second but he captures your wrist again just in time not to let you go. You feel your lungs deflate air as you breathe tepidly, giving up fighting his strength. Din held you tight in place, but his hold was hesitant, careful.

He sways with you, a strong arm supporting your back. And then you knew he wasn’t going to let you go. A quiet thud echoes through the walls of the cockpit when your free hand hits his cuirass, defeated.

Despite how you felt your heart bleed into frustration, the warmth of Din’s actions didn’t fail to provide you grounding. The usually fierce and brave mandalorian, didn’t do much of a job on hiding the trembling of his fingers, but the way he pulled you closer delicately was full of certainty.

Your shoulders rise, then fall as if you were ready to try to leave his embrace again, then changing your mind at the last second. "Shh, stop moving." His voice was even softer than before, his thumb stroking your quickening pulse point underneath the pad of his fingers. And it hits you like a shock wave the way you could feel he held you like you were made of the thinnest of glasses, afraid that you’d break. And right there you felt like you would. Your chest aches and a choked sound leaves your lips before you could stop it. You didn't want Din to see you cry. Not when he’d know your tears were because of him.

Leaning onto his shoulder, You inhaled and exhaled, but all you could breathe was him. And he was sweet. Just as sweet as the act of pulling you close like that. You still had things you wanted him to know, but now you wouldn't have the courage to say anything. You just let yourself stay there, like you hadn't just stormed at him, his hand still around your wrist keeping you grounded. And you made no point about it. Now you don't even care about what and where you could be heading into.

All you manage is to call his name softly, the word small and low.

He forces himself to pull away just enough to look at you, helmet tilting to the side as his eyes roam every feature of your face. You open your mouth to say something, but you trail off before making any sound. Din searched in your gaze everything you weren't able to voice. Your eyes sparkled in anxiety. And the furrow in your brow framed them to look nothing but like a plea. And you pleaded both to him to let go of you, and to be in his arms for eternity.

Din felt his heart rip in his chest at such a sight. Still, the hesitancy radiated off of him. He shifted with every little movement you'd do, afraid that you'd slip away from him. Afraid that this moment was a step too far from what you two were.

But, for you, he gathered all the courage he had to speak. “I'm not leaving you. You just— can’t come with me, this time.” Din shakes his helmet slowly, his words a mere murmur, “Not to corellia."

The only response you give him is to lift the hand you rested in his chest plate to take a grasp of the collar of his flight suit. He takes the action as a green light for him to keep going, "You know how things are for me," His breaths are cautious like he didn't want you to hear it at all, and the words came out forced out of his throat.

"It's not about Corellia, din."

Corellia the place that put together the pieces of who are. You aren't fond of the things you've learned, but they've kept you alive. They've led you to the mandalorian in front of you, who is trying to keep you away from the place you curse. And your heart hammers as you take note of his thumbs taking place in your palms.

You're not sure if he's looking at you now, or even if he listened to what you've said. He keeps his hands where they are, his visor turned to you, but the usual silence remains.

Din knew you wouldn’t want to stay behind. You Had made it known a thousand times when you’d tell him you'd always want to be by his side to face everything that came in the way. And it made his chest ache of how much he felt for you for it. He just couldn't define exactly what feeling you had plagued him with, but right now, all he knew is that he couldn't lose you.

Din didn’t like to admit it, but sometimes he trusted fate more than himself. He trusted you more than he trusted himself. He knew you could take care of yourself, that you may keep yourself away from trouble. But with him? trouble crawled to him like himself to his beskar. And it burnt him through it.

There was no reason to let you burn, too. Sure, maybe there was. And that thought was the most selfish thing that’s ever clanged to his mind. He needed you.

And he liked to think you needed him too. He couldn’t deny the sweetness in the way you looked at him.

In that moment, that was exactly how you looked at Din. You were still upset at him, but you couldn’t deny that you saw his struggle. Din was trying to keep his composure, he was choosing the right words. Yet, only a soft whimper left the modulator, which failed to do its job thanks to the closeness you shared.

When the silence vanishes, it is filled by your trembling voice, "I...couldn't bear with you leaving," wincing a bit, your hand slides down his, your touch becoming comforting instead of reluctant under his hand.

Din keeps silent for a while, and when he speaks again It's short— it's him being so stoic again, but it's still not the way you're used to seeing him; He's always obvious and clear. "I’m not risking you like that. I’m not taking you there." He sounds the most honest you’ve ever heard. Yet, for the first time you have to make an effort to figure out what else he may be afraid you understand. "I can't."

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I'm here, and now I'm coming." Your voice, against your will and due to everything sounds more reassuring than claiming.

Din's stomach twists In knot as he realizes that each second he stays here, letting you hold his wrists delicately, both of you are closer and closer to Corellia. Where he doesn't even know if he'll make it till landing— It's a risk he has taken countless times. But with you? It's-

It's impossible.

"Damn it." His chest heaves a few times as now he's the one who tries to pull away, but he realizes he just hasn't enough courage to do it; To let your gentle hands go off of him. Din's eyes close for a moment as he tries, just one more time to convince you. "I'm trying to keep you safe."

He stares at your hands. At some point intertwined with his, his thumb between your index and middle finger, and you held his hand tight. And he felt like he could barely breathe. He keeps avoiding your gaze, his visor following every little detail of the ship’s floor.

"Din..” A deep frustrated inhale passes through his modulator as you search his gaze, leaning your head just in the same angle as he does. “Look at me. Please.” Your hand helplessly trails its way down to his elbow, he’s forced to look at you. "I'm safe right here. You see?"

"You know you’re not."

"Of course I am. If it were to be any different I wouldn't have stuck around. You know that. I'm here because I want to— even when you don't want me here. "

"No." Din looks softly at you as he chooses his next words carefully. "Don’t say that. I do want you, here” he adds quickly. “I shouldn't have made you feel that way. I’m sorry.”

“um, well,” Your gaze softens at him, "You have the chance to explain yourself now."

Din doesn't offer a response as he instead focuses on your hand on his arm— the touch burning like ashes across his skin even through fabric. It distracts him— the fact that he'd let you be this close to him for so long. Or even the thought that maybe you wanted to be this close with him. Without the faith to do anything else, It was almost like his body refused to do whichever command his mind tried to give.

You seem to notice that, as your hands start to lighten its grasp on him while a knot ties harshly within you.

You nearly chastise yourself for being so forward. And By the time he tries to speak again you are moving to let go of his hand, but his words come out trembling, but full of a meaning that it's almost beyond. "it...is you, the thought of not- of losing you, I just,” He cuts himself off, and your wide gaze is still putting things together, flickering through the peaks of light on his visor as searching for his eyes underneath it. Din shifts in his weight, swallowing hard to gather his strength to keep going.”You’ve been through things that could’ve been avoided. Because of me.” Din’s voice was low and almost sheepist, "and I turned out to— care about you. More, for my sake of mind, than I should."

Your breath freezes, getting trapped in your throat. You’re not sure if you’ve heard what you think you did. Din, although often brief, was always honest and clear with you. And that was enough evidence for you to reach the conclusion that you knew exactly what he was saying. Your knees nearly fail you at this, your mind miserably searching for something to say in return as you've barely processed his words.

This time the tears that burn though your lashes are of relief. When you manage to swallow them away, you are still speechless, but you've left him without an answer for longer than you'd like to. Before you’ve made progress on that, you’re looking back at him. You hand dropping his wrist to take a grasp on the ridges of his helmet. Your eyes tell everything your throat cannot say, sparkling and unrefining to your voice that it's only a soft murmur. "I... Din-"

His name, so soft, so right coming from your lips, in the way he keeps replaying in his head when you're quiet. Little does he know that when quiet, you're daydreaming about him. About being his.

Your fingers brush the cool metal of his helmet as you smile a bit at him, "I care about you, too." Warm even through leather, His hand covers yours as encouragement for you to keep going, although it only makes things harder."That's why i... couldn't stay. I don’t want to be left behind everytime you think things can go wrong, Din. I am here for the worse and for the better. You should know that by now. "

You and Din were something unnamed, something assured and longstading. But from that moment on you knew you’d have his name carved on your heart just as he’d have yours on his.

He Drew in a breath that had been catching up his throat as his hand only left yours in the side of his helmet to meet your cheek. His heart still full of panic and embarrassment, leaps at the very given moment his cool Beskar forehead meets yours.

Din gives his helmet a shake, inhaling deeply, his eyes closing as he absorbs the sound of your voice so close to him, restoring it somewhere in his heart just where he kept the feeling of the warmth of your touch. “I’ve always known.”

And in that moment, he decided to name that feeling — the feeling of you— ‘love’.

[korasonata]

I always kind of laugh when people ask how I got into Hermitcraft because I really just stumbled upon it completely by accident. The video that got me to watch wasn’t even Hermitcraft related, it was Grian’s “7 minecraft shipwreck house ideas” video which happened to show up in my recommended one day. Didn’t even know who Grian was, just saw cool house designs and clicked. And of course the first design of the video was his shipwreck in a bottle. I was trying to replicate the design but was struggling with the dimensions and he just so happened to mention that this was the design for his starter house in season 6 of “Hermitcraft” and I was like “cool, don’t know what that is but I’ll just watch the episode so I can watch him build it and get a better grasp of the design”.

And of course he doesn’t start the actual bottle until episode 2, so had to watch the first 2 for sure, but he also doesn’t really finish by episode 2 either. The bottles sort of done, at least enough for me to get the shape, but the episode also kind of ends on a cliff hanger so I’m like “ok, just one more episode just to see how it turns out.” Episode 3 ends and by this point I am thoroughly invested. Binge the rest of Grian’s episodes over the next week, right up to the very first battle of the civil war, at which point I have completely caught up with releases and the videos stop. Suddenly finding myself deprived, desperately wanting more Grian content, I have an epiphany. You know who Grian spent a lot of time with this season?

Mumbo Jumbo.

Which is when I realize that Grian will also be in Mumbo’s episodes. Start watching Mumbo with the intent of finding scraps of Grian, realize that Mumbo is also hilarious and binge the rest of Mumbo’s videos. And once I catch up on those I proceed to re-watch Grian’s entire season, at which point I stumble across a collab that he did pretty early on with a Mr. Iskall85 where he tours his underwater mine and I am once again completely enthralled by this absolutely gorgeous base.

Start watching Iskall.

And as the videos progress I start taking note of some of the other builds in the area. Like that pirate ship with the rainbow sails, that looks amazing I wanna build it! Wait a minute, Grian passed that ship in episode one, who did he say was building it?

ZombieCleo.

Start watching Cleo. And Cleo, as it so happens, lives right across the water from this absolutely gorgeous purple aqua duct, I definitely want a closer look at this thing.

Start watching FalseSymmetry.

By this point Grian is uploading again and I start watching his new videos. They’ve decided on a game of capture the flag to settle the war, and he is building his flag room. He gets someone named Stressmonster101 to test his traps and OMG I have never laughed so hard in my life, WHO IS SHE she’s HILARIOUS I need to see more of her!

Start watching Stress.

Watch these people until the end of the season and throughout season 7. Episode 1 Grian pranks someone named GoodTimesWithScar with a zombie spawner, oh this is hilarious I need to watch this from his perspective. Watch Scar’s episode, quickly realize that he is also fantastic.

Start watching Scar.

The Big Base Swap happens and everyone suddenly swaps bases (shocker). Cleo rapidly skyrockets to one of my favourite Hermits. You know where to get more Cleo content?

Joe and Keralis.

Stress goes MIA mid base swap and her reactions aren’t really recorded on her channel. But you know where you can see her reactions?

ImpulseSV.

My Tumblr is now a Hermitcraft blog by this point and I see someone make a post about the first Hermits Helping Hermits stream where everyone helps Ren put down lava and custom terraform his Star Wars biome. The person who made the post is talking through some highlights of the stream, at which point I am sold. There is a link to RenDog’s perspective and I watch it.

I now watch Rendog.

Start dabbling in the odd fanfiction here and there. Read a few, write a few, at which point I stumble across ✨The Scattered AU✨ A collection of prompt like posts on Tumblr which detail a list of proposed events in an imagined fanfiction where the plot is simply that every Hermit starts at a different spot on the map and simply has to find each other without the use of communicators. The prompts merely detail possible scenarios that each Hermit finds themselves in. And I am inspired. I want to write it. I will write it. And each chapter will be told from the perspective of each Hermit. And to properly convey each character you’re going to need a proper grasp on their personality, which means you’re going to need to do some research.

Better watch them all.

All of this because I wanted to make a shipwreck in a bottle.

[andejoe]

Ulen walked through the dark corridor of the research outpost. He quite enjoyed being a night guard. Everything was calm and quiet, much less stressful than his last post as a guard aboard a ship.

Ulen had just walked past the labs, which were shut down for the night, when he paused. Something didn’t feel right. He stepped backwards and looked for the stimuli that caught his attention. He could finally smell it. Something was on fire.

Ulen scrambled for the keys to unlock the lab, but the door swung open at his touch. He would have to be grateful later, because right now the outpost was in danger.

Ulen followed the scent to the lab lit in blue. Ulen saw two intruders in the lab, one holding a plasma blade, one desperately trying to find something to put out the copper fire.

Ulen moved quickly, first pulling the fire alert, and then throwing open the safety supply closet, grabbing the thickly woven fire suppressor, and throwing it over the fire. He was relieved to see the light dying immediately, smothered beneath the heavy sheet.

With the major threat gone, he turned to the two intruders, who’d both calmed down significantly.

“What do you two think you’re doing? Shut that off!” Ulen snapped.

The being holding the plasma blade nodded. “Oh, right.” They fumbled with the controls before getting it to power down.

Ulen ripped into the two trespassers for their many transgressions. He didn’t allow them to come up with any excuses as he took the two of them out of the lab.

Cambret, the head guard, came rushing up.

“Ulen! I heard the fire-“ Cambret cut herself off as her tired eyes recognized the two newest additions to the research team. “Oh. Of course it’s you two.”

“Hey Cammie,” intruder one said.

“Is the fire out?” Cambret asked.

“Yes,” Ulen answered.

“What did you do?” Cambret asked.

The two intruders mumbled something incoherent.

“Louder,” Cambret commanded.

Intruder two sighed. “We built a lightsaber.”

Ulen stopped to consider what this meant. The intruders knew Cambret, and she knew them. It’s possible they’re new to the research team, but the term light saber was unfamiliar to him.

“Ulen, meet Doreen and Cade, our two new researchers. You’ll have to forgive their antics, it seems ingrained in human dna to be destructive,” Cambret spoke with a mother like tone, insisting upon the two humans to be ashamed of their actions.

Ulen glanced down at the two intruders, and released them like he would a venomous eklip. He nearly jumped away from them.

“Humans? Why was I not warned that two humans were coming?” Ulen asked, trying not to look as scared as he felt.

“An oversight I assure you.” Cambret turned her attention back to the pair. “You both know that a lightsaber is on the list of banned inventions. Why would you make one in my laboratory?”

Cade and Doreen shared a look. Ulen swore he could sense conversation, but heard nothing. It unnerved him.

“Look, we grew up on Star Wars. It was a lifelong dream to be a Jedi. Of course humans before us created lightsabers as soon as they could, and almost immediately after that got them banned,” Cade started.

Doreen spoke up. “Honest, we weren’t gonna have a duel or anything. And we know all attempts to become Jedi or anything ‘more than human’ are outlawed. We just wanted to hold the lightsaber, to see what it feels like.”

Cade took his turn to speak again, starting as soon as Doreen ended. “I swear the fire was an accident. We would never do anything to put the lab at risk. Not even for a lightsaber.”

Doreen nodded in silent agreement.

Cambret sighed. “You’re both confined to your rooms until I can talk with Shhyll in the morning. Then we will decide what your punishment will be. Now go.”

Both humans walked off, talking excitedly about their brief connection with the highly illegal and dangerous device. Cambret turned to Ulen.

“I’ll need you to write up a report of everything that happened, but I doubt they’ll get any serious punishment,” Cambret told him.

Ulen was shocked, unable to find his voice as he tried to speak.

Cambret held up a hand, as if knowing what he was trying to say.

“I know, what they did was stupidly dangerous. But fact is, they are human and in a new environment. Humans have a tendency to push boundaries until they find the lines they can’t cross. Most officials give humans a grace period to settle down, and it is their first day.” Cambret looked back down the now empty hall where the pair had gone. “Still, I have to wonder how they made such a weapon when our lab doesn’t have near the proper materials or equipment to make one. They are quite an impressive duo, as siblings often are.”

Ulen found his voice, but it didn’t sound like his. “You got bonded hatchmates?” He tried to adjust his voice to not squeak so badly. “That’s terrible! You didn’t even get a mated pair? Mated pairs are by far the safest option!”

“It’ll be alright Ulen. We will survive. Those two will settle into their place,” Cambret assured him.

Ulen glanced down the hall, not in awe like his supervisor, but disquieted.

“I will write my report. And if they do something like that again on my shift, I will be writing my transfer request,” Ulen stated.

Cambret sighed. “Very well. I do hope you come to see that their benefits far outweigh any danger they may cause, but I will not stop you from going where you feel comfortable.”

Ulen nodded. “It’s my first time meeting humans. I didn’t have any on the ship I was assigned. I will also give a grace period to see if we are compatible, but I am vacillated on the situation.”

“Can you show me this lightsaber?” Cambret asked.

Ulen silently signaled his compliance and led Cambret into the lab. He would feel better knowing the fire was out anyway.

[fratboykate]

yelena is aroace, why is it so hard for you to admit it???

I’ve been staying away from this because it feels like such a pointless thing to argue about. Despite me having my own tagging system that keeps me out of the show, character, and ship tags a seemingly endless amount of you have been ceaselessly hounding me for days, trying to police what I say and do on my blog. I've finally reached my breaking point so…here we go I guess.

Let’s start with the basics since it appears that most of you fail to grasp even that. There’s two distinctly different concepts that fandom conflates and/or tries to use interchangeably because evidently only a handful of us took a literature class in school. Time for a lesson.

CANON: Canon are the elements of a fictional story that are officially a part of it. Canon is IRREFUTABLE information provided directly from the media to the audience. In movies and TV this would mean things like action or dialogue that happen ON SCREEN. In a book or comic it would be things EXPLICITLY said or shown on the page. Canon isn’t fan interpretation/speculation, fix-its, headcanons, what-ifs, something an actor said at a con in front of 200 people or that they “thought maybe that’s a thing their character would do” at an interview in a press junket. Canon is what is IN THE TEXT. End of story.

AUTHORIAL INTENT & DEATH OF THE AUTHOR:

-Authorial Intent: An author can have an “intention” with a piece but that ends the moment the story is out of their hands and the reader/viewer takes ownership of it. Why? Because none of us see the world the same way. Literally. The author simply cannot control how an individual will read their work, cannot dictate how we embrace what they supposedly wrote, and cannot force us to throw out our own takeaway of the text. It is entirely possible that my experience with the text or the characters is vastly different than what they “intended” that to be and there is nothing wrong with that. Once art is out in the world it is going to take a life of its own. That is how subjectivity works.

-Death Of The Author: TV Tropes defines Death Of The Author as follows: “It holds that an author's intentions and background (including their politics and religion) should hold no special weight in determining how to interpret their work. This is usually understood to mean that a writer's views about their own work are no more or less valid than the interpretation of the reader.”

Now that we’ve established both those things let’s break down Yelena’s case in particular.

Let’s start with the “Ace” part. It is more than obvious that you guys are taking AUTHORIAL INTENT and confusing it with CANON. One of the authors wrote an obscure blog post where they expressed some thoughts. Let’s highlight key quotes from the post:

“Most scholars agree that the first official use of “aromantic” was documented in 2005. That’s thirty-five years after I was born, six years after Yelena was invented, and—fictionally--approximately ten years after Yelena would have come into being (in the version of events where she was born rather than cloned).”

Oh well...right off the bat, Authorial Intent seems to be out the window. The term didn’t even exist when they created Yelena ergo it is impossible that they set out to write her as “ace”. Next.

“But now, let’s talk a bit about Yelena. When I first invented her, I didn’t give much thought to her romantic life or sexuality because neither factored into the story I was telling at the time. Later, when I had lived with her a little longer and someone asked me if she might be ACE, I thought that actually made a lot of sense for her.”

This is an "afterthought" situation. I’m not saying this to undermine the writer as a person, saying they have ill will, or calling them a liar. But this is - as clearly stated BY THEM - an afterthought. Yelena was not created as an "ace" character. Next.

These are going to be two quotes:

“I like the idea of her being ACE and hope they go with that, but despite my 20+ years writing comics, there isn’t even anyone there I can mention that to. That’s not how comics work. Even if I said she’s X or Y or X and Y, Marvel might be a day away from releasing something that takes her in a totally different direction. Ultimately, my ideas about how Yelena identifies are no more right or wrong than yours.

I have a lot to say about how unfairly creative IP is handled in this industry, but that’s not what we’re here to discuss. What I do want to impart is that it’s a bad idea to trust multibillion-dollar corporations to represent you and your community.”

and

“I am a fan-fic writer and RPer, though, and I firmly believe that when you write or play or draw a character, you get to decide what is and isn’t true about them. No one can tell you you’re wrong (except, perhaps, your GM) – that’s the entire point. So if your question is really, “do you think it’s okay if I write/play Yelena as X or Y or interested in Z,” I am always going to support your choices. 100%. Do what you think feels right and makes sense. FWIW, you have my blessing."

The writer is LITERALLY TELLING YOU, in black and white, to headcanon Yelena as whatever you want because...

Their own ideas of Yelena are basically headcanons at this point.

They understand the inherent importance of representation and they agree that it would be cool that she could be this one thing but that they do not make and cannot make any creative decisions about what the character is or isn’t.

They are making it clear to you - the fan - that they do not get to dictate canon because they do not own the character. Disney/Marvel does. They are telling you that “you as an individual decide what her truth is and how you want her to represent to YOU” and yet somehow you guys turned that open invitation into “I must hound everyone who disagrees with my personal interpretation of how I want her to represent ME”.

Now, relevant quotes excerpted…beyond this one blog post there is no other actual canon evidence in any of the comics of Yelena verbalizing anything about her sexuality. At all. Anywhere. If you have it, please make me eat crow. Correct me. But I’ve been doing vast research on it for a couple of days now and have even asked people to provide it and no one can which is pretty strong evidence that there isn’t. All that anyone can come up with is the author's blog post and another interview where they have yet another throwaway sentence of Authorial Intent. This is it:

"PROBABLY MORE LIKELY". That is an opinion, my friends. This is all you have. Intent and Opinions does not canon make.

Now, onto my absolute fucking favorite part of this whole thing...

You want to know what IS canon? You want to know what you all conveniently and willingly choose to gloss over and never mention because it doesn't serve your narrative?

1) The fact that CANONICALLY Yelena is a lingerie model and a sex worker who owns a soft-core porn empire. [x]

2) The fact that in this scene she has an entire conversation with Natasha about how she chooses to use her body to sexually manipulate targets to get what she wants:

Interesting how I had to start doing research into Yelena to learn that because in this entire conversation about “representation” sex workers and sex positive, feminist women had never once come up. Funny how apparently sex workers don’t deserve a superhero then? Hmmmm...

I’m not saying one is more worthy than the other, just a point I figured was worth flagging because it just seems oh so very curious to me.

--

Let’s move onto the “Aro” part because this is the real doozy. This is the one y’all truly bent yourselves into a pretzel to come up with. At least there is some sort of something you can cling to on the "ace" front but on this one you really just went for the mountain of straws and started to grasp.

The "proof" you guys use of her being "aro" is a single panel of her saying "I'm not...anything". Here's the entire scene instead of just the one frame you guys use out of context:

I'm going to use two different sources here to debunk this one.

- This person had already read the whole series the panel you guys chose to extract that ONE frame from and completely misconstrue to support your point. Here are a couple of excerpts of the ask they answered:

“…It’s more people seeing that one panel and misunderstanding it.[…] The panel where she says "I’m not anything" is a reoccurring theme throughout this series specifically about her not seeing herself as the Black Widow and her dehumanization of herself. The full page itself is about the woman she was talking to goading Yelena by asking if she was into BDSM.”

I then had a DM conversation with the person to find out more because I wanted to get further context about the series as a whole since they had the full picture. I specifically asked them questions about this part. They said the following:

“The way she [the woman] degrades her [Yelena] and calls her worthless is supposed to be feeding into Yelena thinking she isn’t as good as Natasha and how she’s not truly the Black Widow. The "I Am Nothing" is the writers very badly trying to ham fist their way into having Yelena saying she is nothing as she is not the Black Widow, which is the main point of the comic."

Without having read the rest of the comic, if I were to see these panels in isolation, I would have a slightly different interpretation of the scene, because...again...no one digests texts the same way. This is a prime example of that. What I would gather from it is that Yelena would be saying “I am nothing” as in “I don’t label myself as anything” rather than literally just jumping straight to “I am aromantic”. Like…that is such a giant stretch that it’s almost laughable.

The second person I'm quoting is an AROACE person who made a whole thread on twitter agreeing that Yelena is NOT canon aroace and sharing pretty solid (and similar) factual evidence as to why.

[Full disclosure: I was sent this link as I was in the process of finishing this post by someone who knew I was writing it and I figured it was worth adding an Aro/Ace voice to the mix as well].

Here are some good excerpts:

"...in said interview grayson talks about yelena being asexual then proceeds to describe yelena as aromatic instead, making it clear that she doesn't know the difference between the two orientations..."

The writer then proceeds to break down and analyze the same misconstrued panels I was quoting above. She runs through several possible scenarios of what that scene could mean, all just as likely as the other. All valid interpretations. All different versions of Yelena as an LGBT character. This is the most important part to me tho:

"...once again think about the time and place yelena grew up in. you're going to try and tell me yelena knows what asexual is and what it means? muchless aromantic? she grew up in approximately 70s russia... expecting her to know her sexuality at that point is kinda weird?

now with all this in mind (especially the last three!) it pretty much completely erases any chance that those panels are meant to be her saying shes aroace. as far as im aware these are the only two pieces of evidence people try to use to confirm yelena as canonically aroace. both are very easily debunked.

i am by no means here to tell anyone not to write yelena as aroace, she's your character do what you want! i'm only here to educate people on this topic. and as someone who is BOTH aro and ace its absolutely my place to speak on this. [...] all i want is for this non-existent canon to stop being continuously shoved down everyone's throats."

And finally:

"i'd also just like to add the way a lot of people tend to handle this topic of conversation is very weird. if your first instinct when you see an aroace character is to say they cant be shipped or cant have sex... that's weird! aroace is a spectrum! not all aroaces are repulsed by sex and relationships! yes, some aroaces are! but not all of them. to immediately force her into that box with no evidence is extremely stereotypical! a very good majority of conversation based around aroace yelena is riddled with stereotypes."

--

I'm going to revisit the opening lesson for a beat because it has to do with my final point. Let me quote myself in case we already forgot:

"Canon is IRREFUTABLE information provided directly from the media to the audience. In movies and TV this would mean things like action or dialogue that happen ON SCREEN."

Why am I circling back? Because with this new wave of IP and adaptations that we're living in. So many pieces of IP are getting adapted from podcasts, comics, books, etc into TV/Film. Changes are always going to be made from the original to the screen. Always. ALWAYS. What is canon in one is not necessarily going to be canon in the other. They're two completely separate pieces of media. Every single time. They immediately become divorced and stand-alone from each other as soon as a derivative is created.

It's why you see things like couples being "endgame" in books but not in shows/movies. Or people being alive or dead in books but not in TV/films. Or major story points being changed. Or new characters being introduced or omitted from adaptations at all. They are not the same thing. Canon on text is one thing. CANON ON SCREEN IS ANOTHER. Shut up already about "what's canon here must be canon here" and learn the difference.

Do you want to know how much characters/relationships have changed from Marvel comics to the MCU? Let me list a few things that are canon in the comics just for quick references.

Black Widow had romances with Bucky, Hawkeye, and Daredevil.

Hela is Loki’s daughter not his sister.

Pepper was never married to Tony.

Black Window and the Hulk have never been on the Avengers together.

Natasha and Yelena are rivals not sisters.

I could keep going but I think you get the point. Marvel Comics are not the MCU. I'll repeat:

MARVEL COMICS ARE NOT THE MCU.

Simply because something happens or is true is one does not mean it must be true in the other. It is especially important to drive that point home in this case because "Yelena is aroace" isn't even a canon fact in the comics. It's farfetched at best. At best.

My goal with this is not to tell you to not headcanon Yelena as aroace. If that is important to you, dear god fucking do it to your heart's content. No one is trying to fucking take that from you. Matter of fact, if you want to string two whispers of a stretch together and pretend in your delusional little head that it’s “canon” be my guest. Where the issue begins is that you are now trying to militaristically enforce this “canon” myth when it is nothing more than that…A MYTH. And you are trying to force it on people who weren't fighting you on it to begin with. People like me who were just over here in my own corner of the internet minding my own business. I wasn’t invading your spaces, arguing with any of you, or trying to debunk any of your beliefs until you all insisted on coming to me with this bullshit over and over and over again.

All I - a casual viewer who had zero knowledge of the comics or the backstory - wanted to do was calmly enjoy and interpret these two characters and their relationship however the show had established them which was...AS A BLANK SLATE. Right now in the MCU they are non-denominational. They have never said Kate is [XYZ] and Yelena is [ABC] therefore I am free to construe them and pair them however I see fit. It is not up to you to tell me otherwise.

Now, with all that settled, leave me the fuck alone.

[rat-that-writes]

Take What You Want | Engineer Mark x Reader

a/n: thank u @softladyhours for this big brain GENIUS IDEA !!!!! im so in love w engineer mark hes so cute <3 i may be inclined to a part two if i figure out how to write smut without it sounding ridiculous lol

MINORS DNI. YOU WILL GET BLOCKED.

word count: 2.3k

tw: sexual tension, innuendoes, grinding, light thumb sucking, flustered engineer mark turns to soft dom engineer mark, absolutely awful depictions of mariokart im so sorry ive literally only played once lol

“Hey Y/N- uh, I mean.. hey Cap!”

Ever since you and Mark had officially started dating, he had found it hard to keep calling you by your appropriate title and not your actual name. You didn’t mind all that much, it’s not like he was deliberately doing or anything. But you hadn’t really revealed your relationship to much of the crew and you wanted to seem like everything was normal and professional.

“Hey Mark! Did you need something?” You asked, secretly hoping there weren’t any more jobs needing doing as you were pretty tired already. It had been a long day.

He looked at you, eyes sparkling. You could tell he was tired too, despite his expression. He always had that look on his face when he spoke to you, so full of joy and love. It made you feel so special. You hoped you made him feel even half as special as he made you.

“I’m done for the night, I think - when you’re done do you think we could go play MarioKart or something?” He whispered the last part, what with the rest of the crew milling about. Keeping it professional, even if he told you everyone probably already knows about the two of you just by the way you interact. You were pretty sure Celci and Gunther knew, either because Mark wanted to brag about you or because they caught him staring at you all the time. He’s such a dork. Your dork.

“Yeah, I’ve just got to check on a few things then I’ll join you!” You smiled, very excited at the prospect of beating him in one of his favourite games.

Soon, you’re finished checking up on the crew and the ship; with everything in order, surprisingly. It was rare you had a chance to relax with Mark or by yourself.

The door to your lounge area opened to reveal Mark wearing nothing but red checkered sweatpants and a black t-shirt, his suit folded neatly on a table by the couch. You just stood there, admiring the way his hands and fingers moved as he set up the controllers. His toned muscles looked so strong, you just wanted to feel him. But that could wait. He wanted to play MarioKart first.

Usually he caught you staring, but this time he was too focused to hear the door open or see you in his peripheral vision. You giggled, making him jump slightly. But when he saw you, he smiled brightly and pat the spot next to him. Quickly, you begin shedding your suit to reveal a simple white tank top and grey shorts, which your boyfriend couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of.

You smirked and took to revealing your clothes underneath a little slower. You shimmied your hips a little, stealing a quiet gasp from him. He was so cute. And so, so unbelievably easy to fluster. Dropping the rest of your suit, you folded it up and placed it next to his. He watched you with those pretty eyes, totally distracted from what he was so focused on before.

You stood in front of him as he looked up at you, mouth slightly open trying to speak but nothing came out. You smiled again, and grabbed a controller. That seemed to snap him out of his daze, and he grabbed his own one as he sat in a more comfortable position on the large couch.

Oh, you had an idea.

Mark was usually the one to win at these games, but you had a little plan in mind that could make him lose. You kneeled on the plush couch cushions, crawling over Mark’s lap to kiss his cheek. He hummed and leaned into it, dropping the controller and placing his hands on your cheeks and kissing your lips sweetly. You crawled further, into his lap and straddling his thighs. His breath caught in his throat, and his hands moved down to your waist.

You leaned your body back to look at him, admiring the ever-deepening blush on his cheeks. You hadn’t done a lot of sexual things with Mark beyond some fully-clothed heavy making out and groping, as there was both of you having strict schedules and little privacy. You were almost caught by some crew members once. But, you had a good feeling about tonight. As long as there weren’t any urgencies either of you had to take care of, you were hoping to get a little more acquainted with your boyfriend’s body. You knew he wanted to as well.

But for now, you just wanted to spend some quality time with him. You stopped your teasing and turned around to settle on his lap, handing him his controller as he put as arms around your waist. You knew he was still blushing, and you could feel how tense his body was under yours. Maybe he’ll relax when you get to playing.

-

“No no no no no- god, why do you always win!? This is unfair!” You whined playfully, having had lost to Mark three times in a row now. It wasn’t like you were bad at the game, most of the time you got at least 3rd or 2nd place but he somehow always got 1st. Bastard.

“Come on, one more round? I’ll go easy on you, Captain,” He replied, kissing your temple and smirking.

“I’d prefer if you were hard on me, actually.”

That made his body stiffen again. You didn’t even mean it in any sort of sexual way, but you weren’t going to complain about the unexpected results. You gently elbowed his side, eager to try and beat him one last time.

So far, your little plan hadn’t had much success. Just simply sitting in his lap did make him flustered, but not flustered enough to lose. Now, you had to try a little harder. Picking up your controller again, you let him pick the cup.

You were too distracted by your thoughts to see which one he chose, but luckily for you he picked the one you’re fairly good at. As the timer started, you let out a little giggle at his upcoming expense.

“Oh, you’re confident this time, huh? You better watch out then babe,” He winked as you craned your head to smile at him.

“Mhm, I sure will.”

3,

2,

1,

GO!

Both your characters sped off right away, with Mark focused and determined ahead of you, already securing 3rd place. You were in 7th, but as soon as you shifted your hips a little he suddenly bumped down to 4th, and let out a small squeak as he gripped his controller tightly.

Powerups helped you reach 5th place, and Mark was growing nervous. Every time he got back into 3rd and even 2nd, you made sure to ‘get more comfortable’ on his lap.

As usual, Mark was clueless to your methods. He felt them, oh did he ever. And it was driving him crazy. But he didn’t know you were doing it on purpose. He truly thought you were just getting more comfortable.

As the both of you approached the meandering road, you swayed your hips side to side in the guise of emphasising the turning of your controller. You heard a short, muffled moan come from the man behind you and you grinned to yourself. It wasn’t long before you could feel his dick begin to stiffen under you.

The rest of the races went in a similar direction to the former. He got a good placing early, you ‘adjusted’ yourself, he lost to you. Overall, you had 2nd place and he took 4th. But apparently Mark wasn’t paying any attention to that, as his hands were no longer gripping the controller but instead they were on your hips, squeezing lightly.

His thumbs ran over your hip bones as he let out a quiet groan against your hair. You could tell he was desperate as ever, but teasing him was fun. And he probably still didn’t know you were doing this on purpose. Reaching your hand back to stroke his beard, you giggled.

“I finally beat you! Told you not to go easy on me, didn’t I?” You smiled, ignoring the pleading look in his eyes he was trying so hard to hide.

He tried to reply but all he could muster was a strained half-whimper half-moan. You looked at him in faux confusion, turning around to straddle him and taking his face in both hands.

“Aww, don’t be a sore loser, Mark,” you cooed, a slightly condescending tone taking over as you smiled at him and shifted impossibly closer to his body. His eyes were tightly screwed shut for a second; you almost didn’t see it, but it spoke volumes. Being so, so close to each other and being teased like this was something he had never experienced with you. And God, did he love it.

You decided to be a little bit merciful and back away from him slightly, but his grip was tight and kept you in place. Now it was your turn to be flustered. His gaze flew down to your lips, and you pressed your chest against his as you kissed him. As soon as your lips made contact, he sighed into you, his hands reaching yours which were placed on either side of his neck.

As the kiss deepened, he opened his mouth slightly to nudge yours with his tongue. Immediately, you did the same. The hands on yours slid down to gently hold your wrists, raising them slowly. You thought he was going to place your hands back on his face, but before you could break away from him for a breath you were pushed backwards onto the cushions, with Mark following immediately after.

You let out a squeak when your back made contact with the couch, your legs involuntarily wrapping around his waist. Mark held your wrists together above your head and looked into your eyes, hungry but questioning.

“Are you okay with this?” He asked gently.

Desperately, you replied;

“Mmph, God yes.”

His lips were back on yours in an instant and his hips settled on yours, too. You could feel almost all of his weight on you, restricting your breathing slightly but that was only part of the reason for your lightheadedness. The feeling of being so close to him was maddening. You’d spent so long avoiding touching him, just in case you couldn’t stop. Now, the last thing you wanted to do was stop this. He was intoxicating and he didn’t even know it.

Clearly, he felt the same to at least some degree as he pressed his hard-on against you more, breaking the kiss to groan into your neck as you ground up at him. He was breathing heavily against your skin, making you shiver every time his lips brushed your neck. He caught on to this, evidently, as he began pressing hot kisses up and down your throat, occasionally biting lightly or leaving a small mark that will definitely blossom into something that you’d have to cover up later.

As pleasing as this was, you were getting impatient, and so was he judging by the way he ground his hips into yours. You wanted to touch his hair, his biceps, anything. But you were stuck, held down and at the mercy of your favourite head engineer. Your legs fell from his waist and pushed at him. Immediately he stopped, worried he had went to far. But he still held your wrists, albeit with a little less strength.

“I want- take your shirt off,” you pleaded, voice higher than usual. He smirked and sat up, your wrists now free to help him as he pulled his shirt over his head. As soon as it was off, your fingers seeked his stomach like iron to a magnet. A muscular, sexy magnet. His abs were firm underneath your digits, but he still had that softness to him that delighted you even more.

You were so distracted by the soft, tan skin of his chest and stomach that you almost didn’t register his hands fumbling with the tie of his sweatpants. Your eyes slowly raked down towards his crotch, eyeing the area as he grinned down at you. He let your hands grip and tug at his waistband before he stood up to take his pants off properly. The sight of him standing over you in just his navy blue boxers, cock fully hard and straining against them made your mouth water.

There wasn’t much time to admire the sight, though, as he quickly leant over you and tugged on your shorts. He seemed much more impatient this time as he swiftly tugged them down your legs and threw them to the side. Your tank top was next, and was also treated with the same fervent movements from Mark. Soon, the both of you were just wearing your underwear.

He crawled back over you, capturing your wrists once more and holding them over you with one hand. His other hand came to rest on your cheeks, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. Almost instinctively you opened your lips, which earned you a hungry groan from your lover as he dipped his thumb into your mouth. Closing your lips around it and sucking sweetly, you relished the kisses he gave you all over your face.

Gently, he lowered his body on top of yours once again. This time, the both of you could fully feel each other’s skin. The contact made you moan around his thumb, and his hips bucked into yours at the sound. He removed his hand and kissed you again, although chaste. You really wanted to touch him.

“Let me, mm.. let me touch you, please Mark,” you begged, yearning to let him feel just as good as you did. His expression turned hesitant, and you wondered if you’d made him uncomfortable.

“If I let go of your wrists, and you touch me again, I don’t think I could hold back anymore,” he spoke, voice low and breathy as his hips slowly continued to move against yours.

“Then don’t hold back. Take what you want, please.”

[c-is-for-circinate]

For a long, large part of my life, being queer in a media landscape--finding queerness in a media landscape--has meant theft.

I'm a Fandom Old, somehow, these days, older than most and younger than some, in that way that's grown associated with grumpy crotchetyness and shotguns on porches and back in my day, we had to wade through our Yahoo Groups mailing lists uphill both ways, boring and irrelevant anecdotes from Back In Those Days when homophobia clearly worked differently than it does now, probably because we weren't trying hard enough. I've seen a lot of stories through the years. I've read a lot of fanfic. (More days than not, for the past twenty years. I've read a lot of fanfic.)

When people my age start groaning and sighing at conversations about representation and queerbaiting, when we roll our eyes and drag all the old war stories out again in the face of AO3 is terrible and Not Good Enough, so often what we say is: you Young Folks Today have no idea how hard, how scary, how limiting it was to be queer anywhere Back In Those Days. Including online, maybe especially online, including in a media landscape that hated us so much more than any one you've ever known. And that is true. Always and everywhere, again and again, it's true, we remember, it's true.

We don't talk so much about the joy of it.

Online fan spaces were my very first queer communities, ever. I was thirteen, I was fourteen, I was fifteen--I was a lonely, over-precocious "gifted kid" two years too young for my grade level in an all-girls' Catholic school in the suburbs--I lived in a world where gay people were a rumor and an insult and a news story about murder. I was straight, of course, obviously, because real people were straight and anyway I was weird enough already--I couldn't be two things strange, couldn't be gay too, but--well, I could read the stories. I could feel things about that. I would have those stories to help me, a few years later, when I knew I couldn't call myself straight any more.

And those stories were theft. There was never any doubt about that. We wrote disclaimers at the top of every fic, with the specter of Anne Rice's lawyers around every corner. We hid in back-corners of the internet, places you could only find through a link from a link from a link on somebody else's recs page, being grateful for the tiny single-fandom archives when you found them, grateful for the webrings where they existed. It was theft, all of it, the stories about characters we did not own, the videotaped episodes on your best friend's VHS player, one single episode pulled off of Limewire over the course of three days.

It was theft, we knew, to even try and find ourselves in these stories to begin with. How many fics did I read in those days about two men who'd always been straight, except for each other, in this one case, when love was stronger than sexual orientation? We stole our characters away from the heterosexual lives they were destined to have. We stole them away from writers and producers and TV networks who work overtime to shower them in Babes of the Week, to pretend that queerness was never even an option. This wasn't given to us. This wasn't meant for us. This wasn't ours to have, ever, ever in the first place. But we took it anyway.

And oh, my friends, it was glorious.

We took it. We stole. And again and again, for years and years and years, we turned that theft into an art. We looked for every opening, every crack in every sidewalk where a little sprout of queerness might grow, and we claimed it for our own and we grew whole gardens. We grew so sly and so skilled with it, learning to spot the hints of oh, this could be slashy in every new show and movie to come our way. Do you see how they left these character dynamics here, unattended on the table? How ripe they are for the pocketing. Here, I'll help you carry them. We'll make off with these so-called straight boys, and we only have to look back if somebody sets out another scene we want for our own.

We were thieves, all of us, and that was fine and that was fair, because to exist as queer in the world was theft to begin with. Stolen time, stolen moments--grand larceny of the institution of marriage, breaking and entering to rob my mother's hopes for grandchildren. Every shoplifted glance at the wrong person in the locker room (and it didn't matter if we never peeked, never dared, they called us out on it anyway). Every character in every fic whose queerness became a crime against this ex-wife, that new love interest. Every time we dared steal ourselves away from the good straight partners we didn't want to date.

And: we built ourselves a den, we thieves, wallpapered in stolen images and filled to the brim with all the words we'd written ourselves. We built ourselves a home, and we filled it with joy. Every vid and art and fic, every ship, every squee. Over and over, every straight boy protagonist who abandoned all womankind for just this one exception with his straight boy protagonist partner found gay orgasms and true love at the end.

Over and over, we said: this isn't ours, this isn't meant to be ours, you did not give this to us--but we are taking it anyway. We will burglarize you for building blocks and build ourselves a palace. These stories and this place in the world is not for us, but we exist, and you can't stop us. It's ours now, full of color and noise, a thousand peoples' ideas mosaic'ed together in celebration. We made this, and it will never be just yours again. You won't ever truly get it back, no matter how many lawyers you send, not completely. We keep what we steal.

.

Things shifted over time, of course. That's good. That's to be celebrated. Nobody should have to steal to survive. It should not be a crime, should not feel like a crime, to find yourself and your space in the world.

There were always content creators who could slip a little wink in when they laid out their wares, oh what's this over here, silly me leaving this unattended where anybody could grab it, of course there might be more over by the side door if you come around the alleyway (but if anybody asks, you didn't get this from ME). We all watched Xena marry Gabrielle, in body language and between the lines. We sat around and traded theories and rumors about whether the people writing Due South knew what they were doing when they sent their buddy cops off into the frozen north alone together at the end of the show, if they'd done it on purpose, if they knew. But over the years, slowly, thankfully, the winks became less sly.

A teenage boy put his hand on another teenage boy's hand and said, you move me, and they kissed on network TV, in a prime-time show, on FOX, and the world didn't burn down. Here and there, where they wanted to, where they could without getting caught by their bosses and managers, content creators stopped subtly nudging people around the back door and started saying, "Here. This is on offer here too, on purpose. You get to have this, too."

And of course, of course that came with a whole host of problems too. Slide around to the back door but you didn't get this from me turned into it's an item on our special menu, totally legit, you've just got to ask because the boss throws a fit if we put it out front. Shopkeepers and content creators started advertising on the sly, come buy your fix here!, hiding the fine print that says you still have to take what you've purchased home and rebuild it with your semi-legal IKEA hacks. Maybe they'll consider listing that Destiel or Sterek as a full-service menu item next year. Is that Crowley/Aziraphale the real thing or is it lite?

And those problems are real and the conversations are worth having, and it's absolutely fair to be frustrated that you can't find the ship you want on sale in anything like your color and size in a vast media landscape packed full of discount hetships and fast-fashion m/f. It's fair to be angry. It's fair to be frustrated. Queerbait is a word that exists for a reason.

There's a part of me that hurts, though, every time the topic comes up. It's a confusing, bad-mannered part of me, but it's still very real. And it's not because I'm fawning for crumbs, trying to be the Good, Non-Threatening Gay. It's not that I'm scared and traumatized by the thought of what might happen if we dare raise our voices and ask for attention. (Well. Not mostly. I'll always remember being quiet and scared and fifteen, but it's been a long two decades since then. I know how to ask for a hell of a lot more now.)

It's because I remember that cozy, plush-wallpapered den of joyful thieves. I remember you keep what you steal.

Every single time--every time--when a story I love sets a couple of characters out on a low, unguarded table, perfectly placed to be pilfered on the sly and taken home and smushed together like a couple of dolls, my very first thought is always, always joy. Always, that instinct says, yay! Says, this is ours now. As soon as I go home and crawl into that pillow-fort den, my instincts say, I will surely find people already at work combing through spoils and finding new ways to combine them, new ways to make them our own. I know there's fic for that. I've already seen fic for that, and I wasn't really interested last time, but the new store display's got my brain churning, and I can't wait to see what the crew back at the hideout does with this.

Every time, that's where my brain goes. And oh, when I realize the display's put out on purpose, that somebody snuck in a legitimate special menu item, when the proprietor gives me the nod and wink and says, you don't have to come around the side, I know it's not much but here--there is so much joy and relief and hope in me from that! Oh, what we can make with these beautiful building blocks. Oh what a story we can craft from the pieces. Oh, the things we can cobble together. Look at that, this one's a little skimpy on parts but we can supplement it, this one's got a whole outline we can fill in however we want. This one technically comes semi-preassembled, and that's boring as shit and a pain to take back apart, but that's fine, we'll manage. We're artists and thieves. I bet someone's pulling out the AU saw to cut it to pieces already.

And then I get back to our den, which has moved addresses a dozen times over the years and mostly hangs out on Tumblr now (and the roof leaks and the landlord's sketchy as fuck but at least they don't charge rent, and we've made worse places our own). And I show up, ready for joy--ready for a dozen other people who saw that low-hanging fruit on that unguarded table, who got the nod and wink about the special menu item, who're ready to get so excited about this newest haul. Did you see what we picked up? The theft was so easy, practically begging to be stolen. The last owner was an idiot with no idea what to do with it. The last owner knew exactly what it could become, bless their heart, under a craftsman with more time on their hands, so they looked away on purpose at just the right time to let me take it home. I show up every time ready for our space, the place that fed me on joy and self-confidence when I was fifteen and starving. The place that taught me, yes, we are thieves, because it is RIGHT to take what we need, and the beautiful things we create are their own justification. We are thieves, and that's wonderful, because nothing is handed to us and that means we get to build our own palaces. We get to keep everything we steal.

I go home, and even knowing the world is different, my instincts and heart are waiting for that. And I walk in the door, and I look at my dash, and I glance over at twitter, and--

And people are angry, again. Angry at the slim pickings from the hidden special menu. So, so tired and angry, at once again having to steal.

And they're right to be! Sometimes (often, maybe) I think they're angry at the wrong people--more angry with the shopkeeper who offers the bite-sized sampler platter of side characters or sneaks their queer content in on the special menu than the ones who don't include it at all. But it's not wrong to be mad that Disney's once again advertising their First Gay Character only to find out it's a tiny sprinkle of a one-line extra on an otherwise straight sundae. It's not wrong to be furious at the world because you've spent your whole life needing to be a thief to survive. It's far from wrong. I'm angry about it too.

But this was my den of thieves, my chop shop, my makerspace. Growing up in fandom, I learned to pick the locks on stories and crack the safes of subtext at the very same time I learned to create. They were the same thing, the same art. We are thieves, my heart says, we are thieves, and that's what makes us better than the people we steal from. We deconstruct every time we create. We build better things out of the pieces.

And people are angry that the pre-fab materials are too hard to find, the pickings too slim, the items on sale too limited? Yes, of course they are, of course they should be--but my heart. Oh, my heart. Every single time, just a little bit, it breaks.

Of course the stories are terrible (they have always been terrible). Of course they are, but we are thieves. We steal the best parts and cobble them back together and what we make is better than it was before. The craftsman's eye that cases a story for weak points, for blank spaces, for anywhere we can fit a crowbar and pry apart this casing--that's skill and art and joy. Of course we shouldn't have to, of course we shouldn't have to, but I still love it. I still want it, crave it. I still thrill every time I see it, a story with hairline cracks that we can work open with clever hands to let the queer in.

That used to be cause for celebration, around here. I ask him to go back to the ruins of Aeor with me, two men together alone on an expedition in the frozen north, it feels like a gift. And I understand why some people take it as an insult. I understand not good enough. I understand how something can feel like a few drops of water to someone dying of thirst, like a slap in the face. If it was so easy to sneak it hidden onto the special menu, to place it on the unguarded side table for someone else to run off to, why not let it sit out front and center in the first place? I know it's frustrating. It should be. We should fight. We should always fight. I know why.

But my heart, oh, my heart. My heart only knows what it's been taught. My heart sees, this thing right here, the proprietor left it there for you with a nod and a wink because they Get It. It's not put together yet, but it's better that way anyway. It's so full of pieces to pull apart and reassemble. I bet they've got a whole mosaic wall going up at home already. We can bring it home and make it OURS, more than it was ever theirs, forget half of what it came from and grow a new garden in what remains.

And I go home to find anger, and my heart breaks instead.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Mind if I requested a Mando with a tall S/O? Like my boy here ain't your typical 6'0 man, he's around 8ft tall and wears thick armor, basically imagine Doom Guy if he were much taller and a Panzer(Tank) in human form. But in reality he affectionate, Mando only finds out when he gets picked up by the tank in a hug or is shown care when S/O has to patch the man up

Din Djarin x Tall male reader

Headcanons

 Its not mentioned but imagine the readers armor is like Paz Vizsla seeing as he is a tanker-like type Mandalorian.

Sorry this took like a million years for me to write, haven’t been in the biggest Star Wars mood lately, but I’m back Baby.

I didn’t feel like adding as much mando´a in this fic as the other Din Djarin ones I’ve written.

Helmet kisses, lets goooo

-          You and Din first met on a bounty that you had both taken. You are from different coverts, yours being one that allows people to remove their helmets and be open about names and alike.

-          This doesn’t mean you remove your helmet a lot. You tend to keep it on because its more comfortable, unknown to you it makes you very intimidating and even scary to some people.

-          Being that you are both Mandalorian and that there are not many left, you decide to split the bounty. You assume Din isn’t much of a talker and since you enjoy quiet, you don’t speak much on this mission. This makes Din feel like he has to be serious and follow the way when around you, since you remind him of Paz.

-          You give eachother your contacts and keep on touch, mainly by sharing bounties the other might enjoy and alike. Overtime it becomes closer to small talk, but as much as Din hates to admit it he is still slightly intimidated by you as you tower over him in height and build.

-          You take bounties very seriously, and seeing as you are an incredible fighter it pushes Din to try harder. Seeing Din try so hard you press yourself too. You end up helping each other get better without realizing.

-          You start to develop feelings for the other man when he takes a blasterbolt for you, not caring for his own wellbeing. You feel yourself fretting on the inside and ask if he needs help patching up. Din, not being used to attention, says he can do it himself.

-       ��  You don’t know but Din has been developing feelings for a while. He sees how an incredible fighter you are, how handsome you are in your armor even if he hasn’t seen your face, and how you go out of your way to protect the innocent. So, you offering to help makes his face hot.

-          The two of you continue your dance, subtly flirting in ways only bounty hunters and mandalorians only can. By having each other’s backs during bounties and giving each other weapons as gifts.

-          Its during one of these bounties you two get split up. It had turned out much worse than you had been told. It went from catching a few wanted people, to being swarmed by what seems like a never-ending swarm of beings, all gunning for your head.

-          Your com connection to Din ends up shorting out, and you don’t know if your friend and crush is alright.

-          When the battle is finally over Din and you meet up at your ships, and Din is noticeably limping and covered in blood that appears to be his own.

-          He tries to make a comment about being fine, but you feel all the worry that had been building up well over, and you throw your arms around him and lift him off the ground, clutching him close.

-          Din stutters, fumbling with his hands as he doesn’t know what to do with them, before wrapping his arms around you in return.

-          You stay wrapped up until the adrenaline wears off and your own wounds start hurting. This makes you realize Din was hurt, so you carry him off into your ship.

-          He tries to say he’s fine and can do it himself, but you brush it off, telling him you’ll help and it’s the least you could do.

-          It takes some fumbling around but your both out of your armor, except helmets, and you help Din put on bacta patches and clean up.

-          At some point your patching up the last cut on his arm, and after putting the bacta on, your visors meet, and you feel your chest and face warm.

-          You’re both at a loss for words, you both know what you want but don’t know how to act on it. It ends with you leaning forward and clinking your forehead against his in a Keldabe, Din twitching before reaching up to grasp as your neck to pull you closer.