#and. i mean. these three fandoms are known as some of the WORST for shipping: like where shipping nearly tore the fandom apart and i knew

[oveliagirlhaditright]

I'm just... so done with fandom shipping as a whole. Y'all are the worst and need to take a chill pill.

[olderthannetfic]

"Why I don't write F/F" thread proceeded just as unproductively as I expected. It wasn't about moralizing about the women not writing F/F, it was a question about why personal reasons for avoiding a configuration aren't reflected in opposite directions by other groups. Unlike race, gender has an almost 50/50 split, there's a scale to the proportions not there for other types of identity category. "The femslash police suck" is a factor I can understand. But why wouldn't "personal reasons I just don't feel it towards this configuration" end up an even distribution across the population? The expectation for women to write about women isn't a moral rule, it's that if you allow the logic "men in control of stories write about men (and that's why more mainstream stories center men)", then the flip side is, well, why people clamor for more women behind the camera and in the writers' room. Either accept the logic for both sides or challenge it for both sides. Instead we have the worst of both worlds, we accept it for one side and challenge it for the other. Where's the parallel universe where this imbalance somehow resulted in a different quadrant being the smallest proportion of ships?

--

Why wouldn't "personal reasons" be even? Because the kinds of issues people face based on their demographic aren't.

But I think the larger factor is how socialization affects choice of hobbies and volunteer efforts. Cis men and cis women, on average, go in for different flavors. The dudes tend to be more bothered by the idea of "not getting anything back" for what feels like work. When they do do unpaid labor, it's often the kind that accrues glory and career prospects rather than less showy social ties. Open source coding projects where they can be important, yes. Writing fanfic, no.

Looking up any analysis of volunteering and unpaid work that makes such-and-such a part of society function will get you a lot of discussion of this gendered difference. It's pervasive.

Of course, this is just a broad trend. Plenty of guys do write fanfic, and when they dominate a fanfic space, we see tons of fic focused on the female characters they find attractive, including f/f fic.

And if you're asking about cis gay men specifically... well... again, gendered socialization means that the issues faced by cis lesbians and cis gay men are not equivalent. The reasons and ways that people employ allegory to talk about things "too close to home" will likewise not be exactly the same. Traditional US gay male culture goes in for drag and for an obsession with Hollywood divas and The Golden Girls. Plenty is being mediated through female personas; it's just not translating into fanfic specifically. But most people making "Leave the fujoshi alone" arguments are not thinking about cis gays: they're thinking about people in messier identity categories.

The biggest difference is not behavior but simply that cis men are a small minority on FFN, AO3, and Wattpad, the three big fanfic archives. (Some ancient FFN research found that it was 78% female, and that's the archive known for having more men!) The places with more cis guys are much smaller and don't get talked about as much by most fandom history and fandom meta types from the AO3 side of things.

The reason cis men's taste in favorite characters isn't being "pushed back against" isn't a double standard: it's because:

Cis men simply aren't that relevant to site-wide trends on AO3

and

2. The reverse pattern does happen all the time with vanishingly little m/m and lots of f/f

You sound like you think we'd make this fanfic-specific argument about pro media. In fact, plenty of queer women are open that they produce original f/f but not f/f fanfic or they produce f/f fanworks but not fic. A lot of the "too close to home" arguments are specifically about the kind of id fuel, naked-in-public vibes of AO3-style fanfic. Writing that is less id-driven may not feel that same way. A given woman might have a much easier time writing a mystery novel about a lesbian detective who never gets laid on page than a steamy f/f bodice ripper.

The parallel universe you ask about exists. It's horny imageboards full of fan art of anime girls.

The reason you sound judgmental and are getting "unproductive" responses is that you're phrasing things as though we're refusing to solve a problem. In reality, we're attempting to analyze the situation that exists. It's a descriptive approach.

[justxtalking]

my thoughts on this hxh ABCD mess

Being a Togashi fan is such a roller-coaster of emotions. I think I went through all the stages of grief in only one day.

Half of me believes he's trolling.

To be honest, it's better to just take it with a light heart. Togashi is known for joking around about himself, his health and his own story. (I wasn't in the fandom at that moment, but I wonder how everyone reacted when he said everyone was going to die). I consider ending D to be so uncharacteristically him for so many reasons I could talk for hours about it. I find it ironic how he gave a stereotypical-shonen-like ending when he talked several times (even in this interview) about how he likes to surprise himself (and his readers) when he writes. Some other times he explained he likes to play with these shonen stereotypes and just do something different. I mean, he's been doing it since the beginning of his career.

And I'll be honest, ending D sounds like a mockery of shounen.

(And I feel a bit dumb taking this so seriously if he's joking.)

(Though, this also may be the case of "the boy who cried wolf" and he's actually saying the truth this time.)

The other half of me thinks he's being honest.

If he is actually giving us a back-up ending, I find it incredibly sad. Not only because of his health, but also because he felt pressured enough to give us an ending, no matter its form and no matter if it's an ending he doesn't even consider anymore. He shouldn't have been on that position.

It is important to take into account that this is not an ending he wants or even considers anymore, it is an ending we can take if he's not able to finish HunterXHunter. We need to realize there's a lot of circumstances we don't know about or may not be considering for him to give us this ending as an option at that moment. And what type of ending too.

I seriously want for him to be able to finish Hunter X Hunter the way he truly wants, not worrying about anything else. He's thinking about three plausible scenarios that may see the light of day or not. And no matter what he ends up choosing, he should choose whatever he wants. It's his story, no ours. And it may even be his last story (I know it's sad, I want him to keep on writing forever, but it's true). Honestly, a part of me wants him to choose the A scenario because that's where seems to be less drama, but actually I want him to choose the C scenario. Even if that ending is Gon married to a lizard with beautiful lizard-babies in the Dark Continent. And that's because that ending is what he would actually want to do with the story.

(I really am curious about it, though. I know I wouldn't be able to guess even in a million years, but I'm still curious. And I so want to read the whole interview and see the whole episode, since there were more questions about other things.)

For the shippers

I know this feels like a punch in the gut or something even worst. I felt it too. And it's totally valid to feel like we do and not agreeing with ending D. Even as a non-shipper because what do you mean, Gon did what?

Everyone who follows me knows I'm a proud Killugon and Leopika shipper. And I will keep on being one even if Hunter X Hunter transforms into Boruto and I have to see Grandpa Gon (the more I say it, the more it sounds like a joke).

Honestly, I always considered the gay ships were never going to be explicitly canon.(Kishimoto traumatized me). Not because of lack of material, but because there's a whole context and a lot of external circumstances we sometimes forget about (and Kishimoto traumatized me). There was a reason why Togashi couldn't make his queer manga in the 90s, which, I'm sorry, I don't consider it to be that long ago. And there is a reason why he can't explicitly say that characters like Pouf or Hisoka are gay (despite being totally obvious and them being villains).

I still find it admirable how Togashi included so many queer elements in his stories and got away with it. And he's a mangaka that does shonen. And not just any shonen, a battle manga in Shonen Jump. (He included a trans man in Level E and made him transition. The way Togashi explains some things about this character may be a bit problematic, but Togashi still did this). And those queer elements are still there and are still as canon as when he wrote it the first time. Pouf is as gay as he is dramatic. And Ging and Pariston still have that sexual tension (and I'm 100% sure they fucked or they are going to fuck in the near future or both). And Killua is still the queerest boy I've seen in the longest time.

Sometimes, I think there's a possibility of Killugon being canon. But only because of Togashi's history and tastes. He may feel a bit rebellious and just go with it, he's so unpredictable that I'm always expecting anything and everything from him (I mean, he did what he did with Hisoka and Illumi and so many other things). However, he's an introvert, I'm not sure if he actually wants the attention he would get if he actually goes with it. And that is something we should also respect. (I do think the most plausible option is Killugon to be as ambiguous as they are now.)

In relation to ending D, I don't think we should worry that much. At the end of the day, it is an ending he doesn't consider anymore. (At least we can sleep well knowing that the ending he wants to do doesn't have to do with Grandpa Gon). What's important is what he writes and does in the manga. That is what speaks louder than anything.

Though, I do think it's going to be a pain in the ass interacting with other fans. I'm not looking forward to it. (At least they are going to stop saying that Kurapika will die, I hope!). What I'm looking forward to is the new Killugon content in the fandom.

My personal take

Gon =/= Ging. I could say a lot about this, since one of the things I love the most about Hunter X Hunter is what he did with these two and Gon's arc, but I think this is clear enough.

So!

After saying all of this, I think the only thing we should consider as canon is the manga. If he doesn't write it, it didn't happen.

If he's saying the truth, he may be thinking about how to finish Hunter X Hunter sooner or later. Even though so many fans say that they want an ending, I feel like we are not ready. Not even for Gon marrying a lizard and having beautiful lizard-babies in the Dark Continent.

I hope I was coherent enough. I have no answers, only thoughts and thoughts! I feel like we can only speculate and ending D is so confusing because how did we even get there?

I may be going through all the stages of grief again tomorrow, but I wanted to share my thoughts (at least partially). I may erase it if I feel too uncomfortable, but yeah!

Conclusion: Let's just take it with a light heart and wait to see what happens! (I know it's hard).

[dreamylyfe-x]

I don't know where else to go to complain about fanfic comments, so I guess I'm going to do it here. Because I woke up to one today that annoyed me.

And ironically, I'm doing it on the second day of my summer vacation, which I had set aside anyway as a "day to attend to the fandom things that I need to attend to" -- of which there are several.

The first thing I need to say is that I'm desperately grateful for every single comment I receive on anything I've written -- fanfic or meta -- 99.5% of the time. This is just a vanishingly small sample of what I hear about stuff I've written.

But it's still so irritating.

Some background -- I wrote fanfic, a prodigious amount of it, in my very early 20s. For about three years I posted nearly daily. These were long WIPs and they got a fair amount of attention in that fandom, which means I also got some criticism. And I engaged the criticism fairly cheerfully. It's hard to be too insulted by someone who has still read hundreds of pages of your work, even if they are upset about something. It was also really normal, at the time, to tell a fic writer then their story was annoying you. And even an upset comment was better than no comments -- the absolute WORST thing you can experience -- so I was pretty ok with them.

But anyway -- life happened, I left that fandom and I stopped writing fic.

A good friend of mine still was and one day, in a fandom I never participated in but certainly knew a fair bit about, she had a bad experience. Her fic was nominated for a ship-centric fandom award (this is livejournal era) and some random group of fans took umbrage at the existence of these fandom awards and went through and gave snarky reviews of all the fics that had been nominated. Anonymously. My friend had not wanted this review and let it be known that she didn't like it. That violated some sort of fandom rule at the time and she got dragged for it. Authors were not supposed to object to criticism. Even if it was mean-spirited.

More years pass. It takes a good long while for a piece of media to grab me enough that I get sucked into a fandom again. But when it happens we are long into the Tumblr era. And I discover that the worm has turned and it is no longer considered good fandom behaviour to leave negative or critical comments.

As a fandom old, I find that I little curious. I don't leave negative comments personally, but it's such a shift from the livejournal era that I take note. And I'm not sure I feel all that negatively about receiving critical comments on fic. As I'm writing it for the first time in a decade, I get to test that out -- and I don't actually have a lot of opportunity to do that, because indeed, people tend not to leave negative comments. But ONE TIME, on ONE story, ONE person left perhaps the longest and most detailed comment I have ever received, all about how much she absolutely HATED the story I was telling. And I did, honestly, love that comment. Same principle as before -- I couldn't be mad when they were so passionate about it. It was flattering.

But today I was reminded of the type of comment I really don't enjoy. It is not that it's negative -- though it is. It's that it's withering. It's the type of comment designed to make you feel like this person thinks you're a vending machine that they put a dollar into and then got the wrong product. It's the "I hope you don't think that this thing you put into your fic is actually, you know, The CORRECT way to look at this."

I've only gotten a couple of these because in general I think fandom is nicer these days and certainly the corner of the Gallavich fandom that I occupy is filled with really smart, thoughtful, funny and interesting people who tend to SAY smart, thoughtful, funny and interesting things. And this is something of a void scream, because I don't think people who leave comments like that would ever bother to read this.

But. Like. Just in case.

Fic writers put thoughts and opinions into characters' mouths that are not their personal take all the time. Because they have reason to believe these pre-existing characters think that thing. You can disagree with it. But it's probably bad practice to assume anything about the fic writer because of it.

If you ARE going to leave a comment like that try to say at least one other thing about the story so that your comment isn't entirely just you being unaware of the concept of an unreliable narrator.

If you are STILL going to leave your eye-roll in comment form on someone's story and not even bother to hit the kudos button on the way out, then I will probably respond to you like you're an asshole. I just have no other context to draw from.

If you are still determined to do all these things, could you try not to do it in the middle for the night so that I don't wake up to this stuff in my inbox?

Anyway. I know I'm blessed to even get snarky comments on a two-year-old fanfic, but, you know. I have feelings to share. Happy August.

[wrenjacobswrites]

NAME: Untitled Ryan/Dylan The Quarry fanfic.

FANDOM: The Quarry

Ship: Dylan Lenivy/Ryan Erzahler

RATING: Explicit

Summary:

Dylan pulls back and gazes into Ryan’s eyes. “You’re as stiff as a board, big guy. Some guys get off on that but not me. I don’t like peace and quiet.”

“Are you seriously quoting known necrophile Henry Lee Lucas?” Ryan asked.

“Yeah, from your podcast, remember?”

“During sex?”

“Yeah, why not?”

Author’s note: Some The Quarry porn I wrote years ago. I remembered it when I booted up Until Dawn.

“Are you, the man that can’t be moved, actually scared?” Dylan asked.

“I’m not scared, this is just dumb.” Ryan said before he turned his head to watch Dylan. Dylan’s eyes were shiny and liquid in the lowlight.

They’re lying shoulder to shoulder in a tight bunk bed. The cabin they’re in is empty, the scent of pine in the air. It was warm—the summer night swept over Hackett’s Quarry. It was dark and quiet since the campers were having one last hoorah by the lake. The rest of the consolers were with them, telling stories and roasting marshmallows over the red fire in the deep dark forest. It left Ryan and Dylan watching the stars leaking through the ceiling. The low, tinny pop song bled from the radio. Dylan’s sweaty arm stuck on Ryan’s. Ryan is going to lose his virginity to smart ass Dylan who he just realized he had a crush on earlier this morning, when he watched him make the announcements. He always had the worst timing. Well, like summer, it wasn’t meant to last forever. Ryan isn’t the going steady type anyway.

“Well, we’re leaving tomorrow and you’re super indecisive.” Dylan said.

“Oh, so you’re not?”

“No. I think I should be top.” Dylan shrugs as he props his head up with his left hand. He uses his other one to stroke Ryan’s cheek with his rough index finger, tracing circles into his skin. Ryan tried to control his breathing as Dylan watched his mouth before looking into his eyes again.

“So, you’re just immovable? Stubborn?” Ryan asked.

“Like a Shetland pony.”

“Don’t you mean, ‘like a mule’?”

“I know what I’m about, Ryan.” Dylan said. “You still want to do this, right?”

“Have sex? Yeah…”

“And we can’t decide who the top should be. So, Rock Paper Scissors is a totally legit way to pick who the pillow princess is.”

“Who’s the what now?”

“Pillow princess.” Dylan said it again, like it would make sense repeated. “Guy who sits back and takes it.”

“You make it sound easier than it actually is.”

“How do you know it’s not easy? You’ve never done it.”

“Neither have you.”

“Okay, true.” Dylan said. “But…how about this: you can pretend I’m Mr. H, if it makes you feel any better.”

Ryan’s face pricked with sweat as he glanced at the mosaic of water stains in the ceiling. Chris’s sandpaper rough hand as he gripped the back of Ryan’s neck—tight, tight, tight—the smell of his woody ginger aftershave. His deep chuckle rumbling through him, his slick skin when he held Ryan close to him after the right number of beers. Ryan licked his dry, flaky bottom lip. His face must be red. Good thing this cabin was shadow soaked. He was hidden in the golden light.

“You’re a dick.” Ryan said.

“Everyone knows you have a thing for him.”

“Define ‘everyone.’”

“The people that matter, like me and Kaitlyn.”

“I don’t have a thing for Chris.”

“Isn’t that like, illegal?”

“No, we’d both be consenting adults.” Ryan says. “If he…if I were interested.”

“Yeah.” Dylan says with a breathy laugh. “Whatever you say, Jailbait.”

“I don’t think you know what that word means.” Ryan says. “Are we doing this or not?”

“Rock Paper Scissors?” Dylan asks, laying back down to watch the ceiling above them. “Yeah. If you’re still up for it.”

“Fine. I can think of dumber ways to lose my virginity.”

“Best out of three and no ifs, ands, or buts if you lose.” Dylan says. “One, two, three, go!”

Ryan gets paper. Dylan gets rock.

“That’s how we do.” Ryan says.

“Don’t celebrate too hard, Champ.” Dylan says, using Chris’s nickname for Ryan, making Ryan’s swallow thickly. “We still have two rounds left.”

“One, two, three…go.” Ryan says.

Ryan gets paper. Dylan gets scissors.

“This feels so right.” Dylan says. “Okay, final round. One, two, three, go!”

Ryan gets rock. Dylan gets…Paper. He lost.

“And the winner is me. I’d like to thank my family and friends.” Dylan says. “Your ass is mine, Erzahler.”

Ryan swallows dryly as Dylan moves to get between his legs. The man’s chest presses against his, hot and heavy, weighing him down into the mattress. Dylan’s drowned in Versace Eros. It had enchanted Ryan since the first day at Hackett’s Quarry. Dylan’s hands frames Ryan’s side, firm and hot, holding him in place. Dylan presses his lips against Ryan’s and steals his breath away. It’s Ryan’s first kiss—not Dylan’s. The man had kissed other people, but he said it never went any further than that. Now they will. Dylan licks against Ryan’s gated lips and Ryan opens his mouth. Dylan tastes like cherry coke and Ryan thinks he’ll remember that on his deathbed. His face burns, his heart races. He gingerly wraps his arms around Dylan’s waist and holds him close. Dylan smiles against his mouth, dragging one of his hands up Ryan’s side, crushing up his shirt until his hot, rough, sweat silky, big hand on Ryan’s lower stomach. Ryan goes still, not sure what he should do.

Dylan pulls back and gazes into Ryan’s eyes. “You’re as stiff as a board, big guy. Some guys get off on that but not me. I don’t like peace and quiet.”

“Are you seriously quoting known necrophile Henry Lee Lucas?” Ryan asked.

“Yeah, from your podcast, remember?”

“During sex?”

“Yeah, why not?”

Ryan chuckles. Leave it to Dylan to make an awkward situation less awkward by being awkward. Fighting fire with weird ass fire. He’s one of a kind. It’ll be so hard to leave him. Sucks they waited until the last night to hook up, experiment, love each other. They didn’t even get the chance to carve their name into a tree like Emma and Jacob did—not that it mattered. He heard that relationship extinguished like the flames of the campfire before bed. Maybe what Ryan and Dylan were going to do is better. Make it a night to remember and then depart and not have to worry about jealousy, falling out of love, arguing just like his parents, and Dylan finding out that he was just an indecisive, scared kid under his ‘stoic’ exterior. Still…

Ryan takes in every fluttering eyelash, the brown fleck of stardust at the bottom of his chin, the updo of brown hair—his pupils black in the golden light, as shiny as the night sky freckled with stars. He searches Dylan’s face, not sure what he’s looking for. He tries to commit him to memory, but it feels like tracing his shadow on the cabin wall or writing their names in the shore of Lake Septimus—when Hackett Quarry disappears, so will Dylan.

He cups Dylan’s warm, satin cheek. “I thought my job was to lay here and take it. I’m your…’pillow princess.’

“It’s even hotter when you say it.” Dylan says. “Seriously, though. Are you…good?”

“Yeah.” Ryan half-lies. He lifts his knees, digging his heels into the springy mattress, his thighs bordering Dylan’s hips, the front of their jeans rubbing together, causing Ryan to take a shuddery breath as he hardens under the delicious friction. Dylan bows his head, tangling his fingers in the hem of Dylan’s shirt. He balls the material in his fist and pulls up until the slight, summer breeze brushes over Ryan’s nipples. Ryan gasped and holds on to Dylan’s side to anchor himself as the man drinks him in deep through his mouth, almost hard enough to bruise. Dylan’s moves are so abrupt, and rough like he can’t wait to get to Ryan. It makes Ryan harder—someone wanting him so badly they couldn’t be gentle about it. Most of the people in his life made him feel unloved unwanted but Dylan seems like he’d die if they stopped right now.

“If we don’t undress I might just fucking explode.” Dylan says as he sits back on his knees between Ryan’s legs.

“Yeah, yeah.” Ryan says. “I guess we should hurry up before a kid drowns or needs a playlist or something.”

“Hey, my job is just as important as yours.” Dylan says as it tapers off into a laugh. Ryan sits up a little before hooking his fingers under his shirt. Dylan puts his hand on Ryan’s to stop him. “I want to undress you, pillow princess.”

“Hm. I’m starting to think you’re not using that term ironically.” Ryan says as he lays back down. Dylan smiles and hooks his fingers under the hem of Ryan’s shirt. He moves it up, Ryan lifts his arms to help Dylan pull it off. The man balls the shirt up and tosses it to the floor. Before Ryan can protest, Dylan pressed their mouthes together, kissing him deep, wet, hot, and obscenely good. Ryan’s eyes flutter close—his face is on fire, brain getting foggy like he’s three beers deep, as he opens up to Dylan. He places his hand on Dylan’s lower back and stroked the smooth skin there. Dylan pulls away and Ryan’s lips burn with the distance between them. Dylan unbuckles Ryan’s belt before unbuttoning his jeans and pulling down his zipper. Dylan moves back and yanks Ryan’s jeans off, the jangling of his belt louder than the morning birds in the clear mornings.

Ryan’s just in his black boxers and white socks. He crosses his arms as Dylan watches him with his eyebrows raised and his lips slightly apart, like he was in awe of him. Ryan’s sure his own face is colored red.

“You are extremely hot. I mean, how do you not fall in love with your own reflection?” Dylan says. “I’ve been dreaming about this all summer.”

“Yeah…why didn’t we do this sooner?” Ryan asks.

“Because you ooze straight guy.” Dylan says. “I had to learn that Ted Bundy likes brunette, middle class white women to even start a conversation with you.”

“Guess I’m not good at picking up hints, huh?”

“No, you’re clueless. Let’s hope you pick up the next thing I’m laying down: my dick.” Dylan says as he strips off his shirt, his milk pale chest and abdomen lightly muscled and shiny with sweat. Ryan swallows a lump in his throat as Dylan steps out of his blue jeans, now equal to Ryan in his cranberry red boxer briefs.

“Mmmm. Smooth. Your wit knows no bounds.” Ryan says, a little more at ease. Maybe Dylan’s secretly a genius, because with every dumb joke the man makes, Ryan’s walls crumble a little more.

Ryan lets his gaze wander from Dylan’s legs, past his bulge, until he meets those dark eyes again. Dylan smiles and flexes his arm muscles.

“You…have a condom, right?” Ryan asks.

“Uh, no.” Dylan says as if Ryan asked him a dumb question. “We don’t need one.”

“Chris told me I should always use condoms…”

“Mr. H gave you the talk? That must’ve been the most confusing jerk off sesh of your life.”

“I’m not crushing on Mr. Hackett.” Ryan said. “You think Jacob has any?”

“Any what?”

“Condoms.”

“We’re each other’s first so we don’t need any.”

“Yeah, but they’re slick so it’ll make it easier for you to…you know, yeah.”

“I have lotion in my bag. I’ll just use a ton of it.” Dylan says. “Ryan, big guy, I got you. Just lie back and let Dylan handle it, okay?”

“You’re a little too confident, Dylan.” Ryan says. They watch each other, Ryan’s arms crossed and Dylan’s hands on his own hips. It’s like a game to see who breaks first, who’d be the first one to take off their underwear. “We should remove—“

“Get our dicks out. Got it.” Dylan finishes. He smiles and pulls down his boxers, letting them fall to his ankles before stepping out of them. His hard cock springs free—Ryan’s not really a porn guy so he only had like six other dicks to compare Dylan’s to. It looks big—bigger than Ryan’s, uncircumcised, with dark hair around the base. “Tada.”

“Um, wow.” Ryan tries to think of something sexy to say, but he can’t so he just gives the man a thumbs up. Dylan chuckles.

“Alright. Your turn.” Dylan says, sitting on the end of the bed, watching Ryan intently. Ryan swallowed something thick in his throat, he was sticky with sweat. Dylan did it. It wouldn’t be fair to chicken out now. Ryan can’t pretend his dick wasn’t aching, Dylan wasn’t beautiful, and they didn’t only have tonight. His stomach tightens, what if he was a trash lay and the last thing Dylan saw of him is him sucking in bed? He takes a deep breath.

“What are you thinking about?” Dylan asks. He seems genuinely concerned, not like his usual sardonic edge, so Ryan comes clean.

“Just…I’ve never had sex with someone, so what if I’m bad at it?”

“Oh, you’re going to be bad at it.” Dylan says “So will I. We’re each other’s first, remember?”

“So why are we doing it?”

“Because, I heard sex is like pizza. Even when it’s really bad, it’s still really good, ya know?”

“That weirdly makes sense.” Ryan says.

“I do that sometimes. Now take off your underwear. I’ve reached the limits of my patience.”

Ryan nods as he moves his hands to the black band of his underwear, his hands trembling slightly, from fear or arousal, he doesn’t know. Dylan’s gaze burns like a brand. Ryan takes a deep breath to steady himself as he pulls his underwear down his thighs, they get caught on his raised knees. Dylan grabs the bottom of Ryan’s underwear and pulled them the rest of the way down, taking them off Ryan’s ankles.

Ryan was about to protest but Dylan was on him, pressing their slick mouthes together, their skin dewy from sweat, the smell of Dylan’s cologne overwhelming, their dicks glancing off each other’s causing Ryan to moan into the kiss. Dylan snuggles between Ryan’s open legs as Ryan turns his head to the side to suck in breath. Everywhere they connected, burned. Dylan lands a wet kiss on Ryan’s temple before he moves his mouth down enough for his teeth to scrape against Ryan’s jugular. Ryan shivers with pleasure, his dick getting harder as the man bites down, sure to leave a mark. That’ll take some explaining tomorrow, but tonight, Ryan doesn’t mind it.

Dylan drags his nails down Ryan’s side, making him shiver and sure to leave red marks. He devours Ryan’s mouth again, drinking him like he was the elixir of life and Dylan was fucking dying. Dylan moves his hips against Ryan’s, their chest pushed together like Dylan was trying to scent him up, mark him as his possession. Ryan had never belonged to someone, had never had anyone who cared about him enough for that. He never felt wanted and even though sex is a temporary, fleeting ego boost, it felt good to belong to someone. To belong to Dylan.

Dylan sat up on his knees, his thighs propping up and open Ryan’s legs. Dylan reached behind him into the open gym bag and took out Lubriderm. His hands were slightly shaking as he smiled at Ryan, now the cool guy façade is starting to flinch.

“So, I guess I’m not worth a lotion that’s more than six dollars?” Ryan joked, trying to ease the mood.

“It’s handy in a pinch and trust me, they’ve been a lot of pinches this summer since you’ve been walking around with your shirt off.”

Ryan blushed. Here goes nothing. “You’re beautiful, Dylan.”

Dylan looked away as a smile spread on his face. His cheeks were dusted pink in the low light. He tightened the grip on the bottle before releasing it. He pressed down the top and gathered a lump of white in the palm of his hand. He put the lotion to the side and rubbed his palms together. It looked stickier than lubricating. Ryan swallowed thickly. Dylan rubbed his slick hand over his own dick, shuddering, stroking himself from hilt to tip.

A heavy wave of want crashed over Ryan as he bit his bottom lip. He moved his hand toward his own dick but Dylan slapped it away and replaced it with his own hands. His grip was hot, tight, and slick, making Ryan’s toes curl as his breathing sped up. The man stroked him, using long, leisurely motions. Ryan felt like he was going to melt as the sound of his breathing filled the small cabin.

“Dylan.” He groaned out. Dark eyes met his as the man had a crooked smile, like Dylan needed another excuse to be cocky, but Ryan couldn’t help it. Jerking off had never felt this good. Dylan kept stroking him with one hand while he used his other slick hand to rub against Ryan’s entrance. He dipped his finger in, and Ryan flinched. It didn’t burn, but he was concerned that even that little bit of Dylan’s finger felt big and intruding.

“Are you okay?” Dylan asked, never stopping stroking his dick.

“That certainly…is a sensation.” Ryan said.

“I wouldn’t know because I’m the big, handsome top.” Dylan said as he pushed his finger until it was buried up to the root in Ryan. Ryan’s gasp echoed through out the room as he tangled his fingers in the sheets below him and clenched his toes. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before—he wasn’t sure if that’s a bad or good thing, but the finger felt like a lot. Dylan moved his hand from Ryan’s cock and gripped Ryan’s hip hard enough to bruise to keep him in place—Ryan hadn’t realized he was trying to move away from the finger. Dylan made him take his finger as he pulled out and pushed it back in. “How are we doing? Still doing great?”

“I don’t know, just…jeez.” Ryan grabbed his own cock and stroked it enough to let out a breathy sigh as Dylan finger fucked him. Around the tenth pass he loosened up, relaxing his toes until…Dylan pressed something deep inside him, causing his dick to leak come. He moaned and took a shuddery breath.

“Bingo.” Dylan said as he pressed on Ryan’s prostate hard enough to make Ryan delirious. “The look on your face is almost enough to make me fucking blow it right here.”

Ryan couldn’t do anything but pant and cry out when Dylan removed his finger. He felt empty and open—just wanting to be filled. Dylan climbed over him, his body heat fucking volcanic, as the man grabbed the base of his dick and pressed the head against Ryan’s hole—it was way bigger than Dylan’s finger. Ryan bit his bottom lip as Dylan pushed in with a gasp, stilling with just the tip of his cock in Ryan.

“Fuck.” Dylan said with a shiver. Ryan cupped his sides and pulled him down, Dylan going down easily until he was fully seated in Ryan. God, he was so full—he could almost feel Dylan in his stomach. Their chest were pressed together, Dylan between Ryan’s thighs. They were slick, Ryan’s dick was sensitive and trapped between their bodies, giving him an almost unbearable pleasure. It didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. Dylan freezes on top of him, holding him down with his dick deep inside of him. “This is way better than pizza.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ryan said breathlessly. “Can we, can you move?”

“Anything for my pillow princess.”

“Would you stop saying—“ Ryan began before Dylan moved, drawing out his cock until just the tip was in Ryan, before pushing back in, knocking a groan out of him. “Oh my god.”

“Yes,” Dylan agreed to a question Ryan didn’t ask, as he fucked him slowly, the springs of the mattress squeaking with each move of his hips. Ryan dragged Dylan down and pressed their mouthes together, drinking in that nectar of cherry cola. It was hot, wet, and animalistic with the spit dripping down his chin. Dylan sped up and increased force, fucking him into the mattress. Ryan takes short, sharp breaths every time he was filled as he clawed at Dylan’s sides. “You feel so good. Better than I imagined, and I have a great imagination.”

“Fuck. Dylan.”

“I am.” Dylan said breathlessly, always the smart ass. Ryan turned his head to the side to suck in breaths, so Dylan placed his wet lips against Ryan’s temple. Ryan felt something cresting within him, it inched closer and closer with every push of Dylan’s hips.

“Dylan, please just—oh my god.” Ryan groaned out. Dylan stilled before pulling out, leaving Ryan stretched open. “What the fuck?”

“Get on your hands and knees.”

“Why?”

“So I can have more control.”

“You don’t have enough already?”

“Ryan, this whole questioning authority thing is getting really old, really fast.” Dylan said. “Now turn around. You won’t regret it.”

“Whatever.” Ryan said. His body is heavy and pleasure drunk as he turned to face the door on his hands and knees. Dylan wasted no time kneeling behind him, gripping his hips tight enough to bruise and filling him up roughly. Ryan cursed as the smacking of the skin and squelching of the lotion made his cheeks burn. If only the others knew what they were doing instead of helping them watch the kids.

“You’re so hot.” Dylan shuddered out. “If only you could see yourself, you’d want to fuck you, too.”

Ryan let out a breathy chuckle that tapered off into a groan as Dylan hit his prostate. The new angle made him feel helpless, with Dylan holding him in place as he made him take his dick. He felt his own dick bouncing with every move of Dylan’s hips. Dylan leaned on his back, weighing him down until his stomach touched the bed. Dylan used one of his hands to cup under Ryan’s throat and tilt his head to the side so their lips can meet. His chest constricted; his breathing shallowed as he breathed through his nose. Sweat sprung on his forehead, he was weighted down as his cock rubbed against the coarse bedsheets almost painfully. He felt something building up inside him as Dylan fucked into him hard, each stab of his dick against Ryan’s prostate cause fireworks to bloom and die between the curtain of his eyes.

He came onto the stale sheets, the pillow muffling his moans, his body shuddering as he clawed the material under him. Dylan fucked him through it, breathy grunts barely audible over Ryan’s breathing. Ryan felt heavy and fucked out, the pleasure overwhelmed him and became tight and painful. Dylan never relented on fucking him. His grip got tighter as his hips sped up. His groans got louder as he fucked into him once, twice before spilling inside him. Ryan didn’t know what come inside him would feel like, but he didn’t know sticky and somehow runny was an option.

“And that’s how it’s done.” Dylan said breathlessly, as cocky as ever. “How was it?”

“Not bad.”

“Man of few words. Yeah, I totally get it. Too stunned by me to speak.” Dylan pulled out, Ryan flinched in pain. Dylan flopped down next to him, turning his head to watch Ryan. Dylan slipped on a smile. Ryan smiled back as he sank into those black tea eyes.

“Sucks that we’re leaving tomorrow.” Ryan said.

“Yeah. I should’ve kissed you first day. Soon as I put down my bags.” Dylan said. “Look, Ryan, I don’t want to be a Jacob about this, but I don’t want us to end.”

“Dylan, c’mon, man. I can’t even decide if I’m going to college or not. I don’t have time for a relationship.”

“All I’m asking for is the opportunity.” Dylan said. “You can start by giving me your number and we’ll go from there, okay?”

“You’re relentless.”

“It’s one of my finer qualities.” Dylan said. “So, what do you say, big guy? Star-crossed lovers until we fall madly, deeply, truly in love with each other or until we get bored and bang other people?”

“Pessimistic optimism. Not many like you, Dylan.” Ryan said before moving his face closer and brushing his lips against Dylan’s. He skimmed his thumb on the warm silk skin of Dylan’s lower stomach as Dylan sighed into the kiss before inching back, blowing soft breath into the caesura of their lips.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Dylan said.

“

[demonicintegrity]

7, 10, 20, 21, and 22 for HK

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

Godseeker. see my other answer where the fandom just kinda makes her into a bitch as well as a groveling simp. And strip any sort of interest from her as just poorly-used comedic crutch.

10. worst part of fanon

Yknow how some people break every aspect of who a character is just to ship them with another character? Yeah that. Not crack ships or crack treated seriously or aus or anything like that, I mean deliberately ignoring every scrap of canon personality and cramming characters into boxes that don’t fit them just because you want to pair two together. Kinda goes hand in hand of just oc-ifying a character instead of making an interpretation of them yknow?

There’s a ship most known for this and you know what it is fkdnkdndnd

These next three are hard cuz 1) despite having Hollow Knight for like. Two years now I haven’t finished it and 2) it’s been months since I’ve picked up the game.

20. part of canon you found tedious or boring

Tedious? Watcher knights my beloathed I am ass at this game apparently. Can’t really place anything as boring tho

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

I think ruthless said it best regarding Qurriel’s nail at Blue Lake. Maybe it’s cuz I haven’t gotten there yet but it truly isn’t that worldshattering to me, suicide or not. And I love Qurriel! I just don’t care about that part ig lmao

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

No one talked about the fact that if you beat broken vessel before the dreamers the crossroads get infected. Maybe it’s just cuz that’s how my one playthrough is going, but that blew my mind. That made audibly go “oh shit” because it felt like I was on a timer now. The infection wasn’t being contained by Hollow and the dreamers. It was leaking badly. Sometimes I rotate the implications of that. It genuinely makes me doubt the seals and wonder if Radi could’ve broken out.

[mz-elysium]

[photo ID: starry deep space, a glowing white title and mysterious emblem, Architects of Destiny]

Guardians make their own fate.

[AO3 LINK]

After the mythological Golden Age came the Collapse. Humanity has all but fallen and the silent dead god known only as the Traveler hangs in the sky. The Last City is protected by Guardians, supersoldiers powered by the Traveler’s Light and risen from the dead — and the last defense of the Sol System against invaders.

The Darkness does not come as an invading army,  though. It comes wearing familiar faces. It promises majesty. It claims to be correct. One Guardian clan finds themselves facing alien gods of flesh and machine, and the Darkness itself before it can bring about a second Collapse.

Origin: Destiny 1 and 2 (mostly canon compliant; video games need some stern words to become narratives; also fandom-blind)

Genre: scifi fantasy, hopepunk, post-apocalyptic, superhero

Includes: sprawling ensemble class, prattling philosophy on human nature, baby aliens, tragedy, love as a superpower, death isn’t the worst thing that can happen, betrayal, corruption and downfall.

○○○

The Architect Clan

[photo ID: a soldier with a rifle fading away into electric blue haze; titled with the name Leo]

Titan // Exo // arc, void, (solar)

I am the soldier in the war-that-never-ends.

A Titan who has trusted in the Traveler to bring them salvation, one day. For three hundred years, he watched a village grow into the Last City. Refugees rediscovered civilization. And, other Guardians became their heroes. He patrolled the walls. Just another faceless brick in them.

Now, he is thrust into the limelight as a hero, his name sung along with the likes of Saint-14, Lord Saladin, Commander Zavala. The weight is more than he can bear.

[photo ID: a cloaked wanderer in a desert with a glowing helmet; titled with the name Q]

Hunter // human // solar, void

Come home.

No one ever damn well asked Q if he wanted to be risen from the dead. He liked being dead. Who wants to be a soldier? Who wants to spend their second life in the mud and blood? He couldn’t give a shit about the hungry masses. They could rot. He would jump into his ship and fly as far as he could. Explore. Map unknown worlds. He had been chosen for a reason. He must’ve been important in another life and damn it, he would find out.

Oh. But why does his clan insist on the most dangerous strike operations? Why must they all be so eager to jump into the pit? Someone needs to ensure they come home.

[photo ID: a woman silhouetted against a stained glass purple supernova; titled with the name Cerys]

Warlock // Awoken // void

Mercy gives teeth to the evil and the weak-hearted.

A thrillseeker and Crucible champion, she was always out of place among the Warlocks. She joined the Praxic Order and their inquisitions out of a dim sense of duty. Without a scholarly pursuit, she figured she should do something. As the threat of Dark-corrupted Guardians grows — and finds a home in her mirror — she comes into a crisis of faith. Rises above it as a devout Praxic. She returns to her training and inquisitions with new conviction.

War cannot be won by the moral bankruptcy that began it.

[photo ID: a man in an ash-storm clutching a fireball streaking like a comet; titled with the name Ember]

Sunbreaker // Human // solar and more solar

The Traveler made Lightbearers. We made Guardians.

The Sunbreaker Clan was myth. Rogue Lightbearers who left the Last City in exodus over heated disagreements on religion and philosophy. Centuries later, their legend is of barbarian mercenaries of the forbidden Titan solar paradigm.

Ember was never the best of them — the strongest, the smartest, the kindest — but he is the last. Brutal and sarcastic, his mean streak earns him few friends. Grudgingly, he returns to the Last City, where he is an exile among strangers.

○○○

Completed Works

[photo ID: an alien warrior in a helmet with a spindly sigil and six glowing eyes; titled as House of Wolves]

Q rises from the dead and challenges the callous doctrine of war, even as his fireteam try to impart their ways. [35k words]

[photo ID: an endless pocket dimension of a flower field; titled as Black Garden]

The mythical Black Garden is open and its Dark heart whispers to the Last City. [13k words]

[photo ID: a macabre alien city with honeycombed windows and pods, almost like an insect colony; titled as The Taken King]

The Hive God-King comes in vengeance for his killed son, bringing a new dimension to the horrors of the Guardians’ war. [61k words]

[photo ID: a robed figure overlooks a series of snowy firepits and stately old flags; titled as Rise of Iron]

Leo’s obedience lands him under the eyes of the last Iron Lord, who asks for help avenging his sacred extinct order. [22k words]

○○○

Art credits: Unsplash for title and characters; Destiny concept/advertising art as made by Bungie/Activsion for work titles.

[thegirlwhowrites642]

What are your thoughts on silver trio?( ginny , Neville and luna)

I have so many things to say about this.

This is going to be a little Ginny-centric because she is the only really well-rounded character out of these three.

Ginny and Neville's friendship

The first time Ginny and Neville are properly associated as characters is with the Yule Ball situation (also known as that time Harry lost the golden opportunity of avoiding the Cho fiasco).

We know that Neville feels comfortable enough to ask Ginny to the Yule Ball but she is not his first choice, he previously asked Hermione. Now here there's a bit of speculation to do because we have no idea if Neville asked Hermione because he had a crush on her and then decided to go with a friend or maybe he was just closer in friendship terms to Hermione. But Ginny seems a bit embarrassed to be going with Neville, I'm mainly basing myself on the fact that she didn't defend him from Harry and Ron when they were making fun of him. I think many people forget that, like Harry, Ginny had her emotional growth in how she saw "the losers". Ginny and Neville seem to have bonded enough thanks to the Yule Ball and in OotP Ginny outright defends Neville, quite ironically from himself. This said, there's never a particular indication of them being close friends, in general, Neville's closeness with Harry too seems often exaggerated by the fandom.

Things supposedly change during DH, Ginny is the main leader of the rebellion at Hogwarts (I don't know why people forget this) and Neville seems to become the Hermione to her Harry. Traumatic experiences bring people together, and I bet leading an illegal group of teenagers against Death Eaters is an excellent bonding exercise. Neville also is canonically Albus's godfather and canon information at hand, including the Epilogue where it's Ginny that reminds James to say hi to Neville, I'd say that the choice of that godparent came more from Ginny than Harry.

Ginny and Luna's friendship

Some people seem to be convinced that Ginny and Luna were childhood friends, but this is not true. I think it comes from the fact that the Lovegoods live relatively near the Burrow.

At the start of OotP, it's Ginny who accidentally calls Luna "Loony Lovegood". This is not done with ill intentions, and Ginny soon corrects herself. But it shows how Ginny didn't really know Luna, and she instinctively called her the way she heard other people call the Ravenclaw girl. Then the two girls seem to become closer during this book. Yet, the relationship that is shown between them during OotP and HBP, looks more along the lines of the popular girl who defends the lonely one from bullies and takes time to talk to her and the isolated girl who because of this becomes overly attached to her. Ginny, just like Harry, seems to view Luna as this cute and funny three-legged puppy that needs to be protected. A weird little sister if you will.

As with Neville, things seem to change during DH and for the same reasons. So Luna becomes the Ron to Ginny's Harry. It's clear that Ginny trusts Luna and cares about her but this time it seems more of a genuine friendship than such an unbalanced relationship like before (Ginny's only true equal is Harry but I think I made it clear what I mean).

Ginny and Harry's third child is called after Luna, and again I think it's a safe bet to say that Ginny had more to do with that decision than Harry. I think it's a nice way to honor this kind of "girl-power" friendship and how Luna symbolized for both Ginny and Harry a growth in terms of how they perceived emarginated people.

Neville and Luna

We don't actually know anything about their relationship? But I think it's a given that they became close during DH. They also seem to have compatible interests (but it's not enough to ship them romantically, sorry folks).

The silver trio

In conclusion, these three became a proper trio during the worst of times, and isn't that how all the best friendships are born? They seem way more chill and self-aware than the golden trio and I think that because of this reason they would have a more solid friendship than the golden trio in like a muggle scenery with no wars and crazy things going around. They seem those kinds of people who would become friends at university and meet in a coffee shop at least once a week to do a summary of what's going on with their lives and they would be there for each other's important moments. I like it.

It took them more time to become friends because Luna is in a different house and Neville is in a different year, plus Ginny is very popular.

The main difference with the golden trio is that Ginny is not only the one with the leadership ability but also the glue in terms of friendship. In the golden trio, Harry is the leader but Ron is the one who keeps them together in terms of friendship and has the social skills. It's also true though, as I said before, that we don't know much about Neville and Luna's dynamic.

I have to say that this friendship is one of the reasons why Ginny reminds me so much of James Potter. James is shown as this "collector of outcasts" to whom he gives support and friendship and love. This seems what Ginny ends up doing.

[thefanficmonster]

Let Them Talk

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female) ft. Sykkuno

Warnings: Swearing, Jealousy

Genre: Fluff, a bit of Angst

Summary: We can all agree Among Us is a fun game on its own but what makes it ten times better is playing it with the right company. Y/N could agree 100% Being a streamer herself, she loves playing with the streamer gang that includes her boyfriend and best friend. But, what happens when her boyfriend starts doubting her feelings for him due to her close relationship with her best friend.

Requested by @cheetoscat . Thank you so much for your request! Sorry it took so long to write, I hope the final product is worth the wait. Enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

Y/AU/N - Your Among Us Name

I settle in my gaming chair, adjusting my webcam one last time before joining the Among Us lobby with my friends. 

“Hi everyone!“ I say into the mic, a smile plastering itself on my face. Discord is a magical thing, man. It’s so easy to forget that the people you are talking to aren’t around you or within arm’s reach. You could be separated by miles and miles of land or - in our case - oceans as well. Distance becomes negligible when you hear your friends’ voices, their laughter; when you have a good time together despite being each behind a screen, often times alone.

Well, I’m one of those lucky ones that isn’t alone. No one knows that, though. Everyone thinks I’m a single, self-employed girl that’s straight out of college. And they are 90% right. Only thing is - I’m not single. That would be a shocker in and of itself, but revealing who’s changed my relationship status would be a bomb with a whole new intensity.

Speaking of my significant other who shall remain unnamed - just kidding, it’s Corpse - his form materializes in the doorway of my recording room. I give him a hand signal the camera isn’t able to capture, alerting him of the fact that my mic is on. He replies by blowing me a kiss and walking off down the hall to his recording room where he’ll be stationed for the next three or so hours.

I owe this relationship to my best friend Sykkuno. I’m a pretty new and not very well known on the platform, however, thanks to him I haven’t only obtained a boyfriend, but a following of a little over million subscribers as well. 

It all started with an invitation to fill a spot in the Among Us lobby him and his friends had created. It took him quite a bit to convince me to join, but I eventually caved and agreed. Suddenly, there I was. In a Discord call, in an Among Us lobby with some of the most well-known names on this platform. I’m talking YouTube legends. I was that puppy playing with the big dogs. The newbie tagging along with the big leagues. Or at least that’s how I felt until we all started vibing - talking and teasing each other as though we’ve known each other for years and not minutes.

When I joined the call, Corpse wasn’t present. After everyone else introduced themselves, Sykkuno informed me that we were waiting for Corpse to return. The name sounded really cool to me and I was genuinely very excited to meet this Corpse guy.

And then, out of the blue - no prep, no warning...

“Did you get someone to fill the spot? Oh- Hello, Y/AU/N.“ 

…he started talking and he had me star-struck. Apparently, he also had me a blabbering mess cause I remember blurting out: “Whoa, who’s this guy speaking in bold and underlined at the same time?”

The entire lobby, including Corpse, laughed. Sean, or Jack like they called him most often, answered my question, “That is the voice of God, Y/N. Its source is named Corpse, though.”

Heat spread from the bottom of my neck to the tips of my ears. I was mortified by my own stupidity. I was well aware they couldn’t see me and I was incredibly thankful for that, but I simply could not get myself to open my eyes. “I’m so sorry.” I said through nervous laughter.

“No, no, I like that description. Bold and underlined at the same time, huh?“ His voice sounded even more pleasant when it had that teasing, mischievous note to it. That thought popping up in my head only made things worse for my self-esteem and only made me more embarrassed, causing me to hide my face in my hands. “You sure it’s not in Italics as well?“ 

His question got a weak laugh out of me. “Nope, definitely not. Nothing Italic about it.“

Yes, I don’t even know how some terrible jokes about MS Word fonts got me as far as a romantic relationship, but they did! We’ve been living together for quite some time now, dating for even longer - hiding it just as long. It’s not that we have been actively trying to hide it or something, we just wanted to see how long it would take someone to become sus of us. When we realized no one would notice, we decided that if any rumors about us started, or even fans shipping us, we’d come clean. That hasn’t happened either, so we haven’t had the proper chance to address our relationship and neither of us minds.

At this point, I’m honestly afraid of revealing it to the gaming squad. Sykkuno especially. He’s my best friend, after all. I can see him being hurt by the fact that I kept a secret so big even from him. The last thing I wanna do is hurt my best friend but it’s already too late for that, it’s inevitable.

“Y/N have you looked at Twitter today?“ Rae, another streamer I’ve become close with over the months, says urgently.

Overlooking the tension in her words, I answer: “Nope, haven’t had the time. Why? What’s up?“

Before Rae can say anything else, Sykkuno joins the conversation, his voice somehow even more urgent than Rae’s. “It’s nothing, Y/N. If you see it, just don’t let it bother you, ok?”

Hearing such a tone from Rae isn’t unusual, but hearing it from Sykkuno is completely different and a lot more worrisome. “Well if it has the potential of bothering me it can’t be nothing. What’s going on?”

Just then, my phone dings with two notifications. I check to see they are messages from Rae.

“I sent you screenshots. Sorry, Sykkuno. She has to know in order to address it and defuse it as well. I know better than anyone how fast these rumors can spread, especially if no one reacts to them.“ She says, her tone barely apologetic at all.

I open the screenshots she has sent me and I find myself frozen in shock. Some old pictures of Sykkuno and I have been posted on Twitter by some random user. These pictures have started an entire thread of suspicions surrounding our relationship.

The pictures in question are from a New Year’s Eve party a mutual friend of ours held two years ago. Sure, in the pictures we are a lot closer than what would be considered a platonic proximity. And yes one of the pictures is of me kissing his cheek. Yes we were both a bit tipsy. I acknowledge all those things and yet none of them are concrete reasons for these rumors to have started piling. 

“This is silly.“ I finally say after maybe five minutes of silence on my end. ”This is absolutely ridiculous! And why are people so serious about it as well? Actual, important matters get discussed more nonchalantly than the potential relationship between two online personalities! What is this world we live in?“ I know I shouldn’t let these rumors get to me like this, especially not on camera. Still, I can’t help it. I feel it’s so unfair to Corpse. He has to put up with this as well and it’s by no means easy for him. I’ve been shipped with people from our group in the past and he always took those rumors to heart despite acting like he didn’t care. Neither of us should get worked up, but him getting upset about them creates a domino effect with my emotions - causing me to be hit just as hard as him, in some cases harder.

Rumors of the past aside, this one is the worst by far. Mostly cause even Corpse himself suspected something between Sykkuno and I at the very beginning, when we were still acquaintances, barely crossing into the realm of friends.

I pull up Twitter to look for the whole thread, barely sparing my stream chat a glance in the process. It seems pretty split - those who agree with me and those who think Sykkuno and I make ‘such an adorable couple’. The thread is ridiculously long, and if we take into account that it was only started approximately five hours ago, you can either view it as impressive, amusing or sad. Why sad? Because someone has dedicated so much time and effort into fueling the fire of a weakly supported theory.

I love Sykkuno with all my heart. Everyone knows that - fandom, streamer squad, Corpse and Sykkuno included. I love too much and too platonically to ever even dream of having a romantic connection with him. I thought that was more than obvious, but people are either blind here, or just grasping at straws. One thing’s for certain - they’re stepping on a nerve.

“Hey where’s Corpse? Did he disconnect?” Felix asks, gaining my full attention. My eyes dart to the monitor, searching through the little avatars in a desperate search for the one of my boyfriend. It’s nowhere to be found.

“He just messaged me saying his connection is unstable but he might join us later.“ Rae says, “You guys can invite someone to fill...“

“Bathroom break.“ I interrupt, not waiting for a response before shutting my mic off, putting the ‘BRB‘ graphic on my stream and yanking the headset off. I basically run down the hall to Corpse’s recording room, my heart pounding like a bass drum.

“Corpse?!“ I call out to him, one hand already on the doorknob. When five seconds pass by without a response, I barge in. 

Inside, I find his usual spot on the gaming chair empty and his slumped figure seated on his bed.

“Corpse?“ I try again, watching for even the tiniest change of body language. He remains still as a statue, not bothering to look up at me either. 

His hands are gripping the edge of the mattress, his head hanging low. His eyes are covered by the short curtain of his dark messy curls. I can’t gauge much. Is he angry? Is he sad? Both? How should I approach the situation?

Before I find the answer to any of those questions, I am kneeling in front of him, our height difference eliminated. I gently pry his hands off the mattress and take them in mine, holding them firmly but tenderly. With one hand I reach up to tilt his head so his eyes can meet mine. He complies, his tear-filled brown orbs meeting mine. Those tears have the same effect on me as fifty sharp knives stabbing into my chest. These tears focus their attack straight on my heart, tearing it to pieces.

“Baby....“

He cuts me off, “Why is it always someone else, huh? Do they deem me not worthy of being with you? Do they think you deserve better?” His voice wavers, “Well, they might be right. They are correct and there’s little I can do to prove them wrong. They mean you well, Y/N - pairing you with guys better than me. Those are some loyal fans you’ve got. They only want what’s best for you. And so do I. If ‘best’ is being with someone else then...”

It’s my turn to cut him off. I put an end to his nonsense ramble that’s slowly killing me by pressing my finger against his lips. The sternness of my gaze is beyond me as I get up and walk over to his computer setup. I put on his headset and hop into the call as well as the lobby with his avatar.

“Hey Corpse’s back!” Toast says, “Good to have you back buddy.”

“No, not Corpse.” I say in a casual, nonchalant voice.

“Wait, wha-“ Sean’s voice shows just how confused he is, representing the confusion of the entire lobby actually.

“I know all of you are streaming so this message will be heard by several different audiences so I’m gonna make myself perfectly clear.“ I take a deep breath, “Sykkuno and I aren’t dating. He’s a lovely guy and he deserves to find a girl who will treat him right. That girl isn’t and won’t be me though. I am already treating someone right. Someone who treats me more than right as well. An amazing person. A man-child with a heart of gold. You know him, to a certain extent. He goes by the name of Corpse Husband, but I prefer to call him ‘Love of my life’. Thank you for your time and attention, goodbye.“

I exit the call and turn around to find a stunned Copse looking at me.

“That was meant for you just as much.“ I say with a fake strict attitude, one hand on my hip the other rested on his desk behind me, “Were you listening?“

Within milliseconds, he’s on his feet standing directly in front of me, his lips inches away from mine. “I heard and memorized every word. But...” he pauses for a moment, “I think you have no idea how big of a chaos you just created.”

I smile mischievously, “We’ll worry about that later. For now...” I close the gap between us, connecting our lips in a sweet and passionate kiss. 

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams  @the-fuck-up-of-today  @slashersdream  @chiefwombathoagiepizza  @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Hogwarts No.1 Ship

Fandom: Harry Potter  Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader Word count: 3.4k Summary: You - Rubeus Hagrid’s niece and a surprising slytherin - have a crush on the Slytherin prince himself, but you are sugar and he is spice and there is no world where the two of you would fit together...right? Warning: Swearwordsm concussion, broken bones, but mostly fluffffffffff Requested by the amazing and patient (I’m really sorry it took so long) @onlycherryblossom​: Hi! I love your work and I was wondering if you could right a Draco Malfoy x Reader. you know, the one we talked about. It'd be so awesome! i hope you have a good day/night! (I won’t put our chat in here so that I don’t spoiler anything)

Hogwarts had rarely ever known two students who were as opposite to each other as Draco Malfoy and Y/N Hagrid. Draco - who was the embodiment of how people imagined the stereotype of Slytherin to be - was (most of the time) a prideful, cold, unempathetic prick, while you were a selfless, positive thinking, kind and gentle soul that could‘ve been a descendant of Helga Huffelpuff herself. The two of you did have one thing in common though. Your house. The hat had made you both into Slytherins which was on Draco’s side not surprising at all, but quite a shock for everyone who had talked to you for even a minute. Probably the biggest shock was courtesy of Rubeus Hagris - Half-Giant and your adopted uncle (on his father’s side) - who insisted that the hat must have made a mistake, but was quickly shot down by Dumbledoor who assured that the hat didn‘t make any mistakes. After some initial tumbling though, Hagrid realized that the house didn‘t make the person and that it didn‘t matter in what house you were sorted into, you’d always be his little pumpkin. And he was quite right. Even after you had been a Slytherin for just about five years, you had only grown more kind and loving - having bonded with many people in the other houses and years, but not quite as many in your own house. You’d call Blaze and Millicent maybe something close to friends and Pansy tolerated you which is why you gave her the title of ‘good acquaintances‘, but other than that you didn‘t really have a lot of contact with them in your free time. The most complicated relationship you held though was the one to the aforementioned Draco Malfoy. In a weird twist of fate the two of you somehow became the main ship in Hogwarts (with Harry and Ginny or Harry and Hermione as close second) even though you couldn‘t remember more than two or three times that you had talked to the boy outside of a classroom or study environment. Sure, he had never bullied or teased you which already differentiated you from most of the students, but you simply explained it by the fact that you were a good student - especially in potions class - and behaved well enough to gain a number of house points which made you into a good asset to Slytherin and as such made you a less logical target. Now all in itself that would‘ve been more than fine with you, but for some stupid reason your heart decided to betray you against it‘s better judgement and fall for him. Somehow, even after years of seeing him kick others down and behave like a complete douchebag you couldn‘t help but blush slightly at the mention of his name and feel your heart flutter when you walked by him in the hall or in the common room. The worst part was in potions class where he sat right beside you after Snape deemed your former partner as way too unqualified for one of his best students and exchanged him for Draco. Working with him in and of itself was actually rather nice. He was a good student and did his work thoroughly and mindfully, but you found it hard to concentrate when his hand brushed yours as you read a passage in the book or when he poured ingredients in the coultron that you were stirring. You really tried to ignore your feelings and ban every thought of him, but it seemed like you weren‘t doing the best job at it since your uncle kept asking about what it was that was distracting you all the time. On a rainy October day fairly at the beginning of your fifth year you decided you had enough. You were sitting in your Uncles hut with a plate of more or less edible cookies in front of you and a cup of something that was surely supposed to be tea when you finally gathered the courage to say what you had been meaning to say for weeks now. “Uncle Rubeus, can I ask you something?” Hagrid turned to you with his usual smile as he patted fang who was drooling all over his lap where he had laid his head. “Course ya can pumpkin. What’s it about?” “Uhm...well… you know there is this boy that I-“ “Ohhh Ah see,” Hagrid quickly interrupted you before you could even ask the question, “Ya know, usually I’d be more than happy to help ya with every question you have but ah really don’t thin’ I’m the right person for this, I’m sorry.” A little bit disappointed but not really surprised you just sighed and shook your head, telling him that it was okay, before bidding your goodbyes and making your way back to the castle quietly mulling over what exactly your plan b should be now that plan a had failed and you still had no idea what to do with or how to get rid of your stupid crush on Draco.

“You know what I would do if I were you?“ Ginny asked and pointed the end of her quill at you. The both of you were sitting in a corner of the library where you had planned to help her study for her upcoming potions exam, only for her to basically interrogate you until you admitted that you had an unlucky crush, even though she luckily hadn‘t pushed you to tell her who the guy you had a crush on was. “I‘d probably just tell them, I mean what do you have to lose. Either he‘ll say yes and you‘re happy or he says no and you just avoid him like he doesn‘t even exist - which would honestly be the appropriate reaction if he refuses a snack like you. See, no real downside to it.“ “Oh really? Hmmm, I wonder why you haven‘t told Harry how you feel yet then,“ you teased her and tapped your chin. Ginny‘s face immediately started to rival the colour of her hair and the way she crossed her arms in front of her chest and pouted reminded you of an overgrown toddler - but in a cute way. “I-I don‘t like Harry, okay? I mean I did when I was like ten because he was famous and I was a child,“ she tried to make sure you really knew how silly she wanted you to believe she thought it was by drawing out the word child for a good few seconds before rolling her eyes and looking to the side, “And anyway, it‘s not like he‘d date his best friend’s sister…“ “Oh Gin,“ you immediately felt bad and grabbed one of her hands with yours, “Have you looked at yourself? You‘re amazing and if Harry doesn‘t see that through his stupid invisible cloak and these glasses than he doesn‘t even deserve you.“ “Even though I admit that yes, I am amazing, this isn‘t the topic that we should be conversing about right now, remember? I think there‘s a certain blond Slytherin that you should be worried about more right now.“ Immediately blood shot right to your cheeks and you quickly looked around to make sure no one could‘ve heard her before leaning forward and hissing: “What? No? I don‘t like Draco? Why would you even think that? I never said that he is the one I have a crush on.“ Ginny just raised her eyebrows in an unimpressed manner, leaning back in her chair and picking the quill back up to play around with while she talked. “Listen honey, I‘m not judging you or anything. Don‘t get me wrong, I still and probably will always think Draco is a major asshole and doesn‘t even deserve to breath the same air as you-“ “He isn‘t that bad…“ “Yes he is, but anyways, no matter what I think of him I also know that you are a clever girl that knows how to protect herself and who knows, maybe you‘d even have a good influence on him.“ Images of you and Draco together with your friend group laughing and having fun crossed your mind and you could feel your heartbeat fasten involuntarily. “That‘s all great and good, but like I said, I don‘t have a crush on Draco,“ you gave the hope of getting out of this situation with the lie you‘ve been telling yourself for months still intact one last try, but Ginny didn‘t give it the time of day. “Oh please, I see the way you look at him in the dining hall and how your eyes are always on him when he‘s playing quidditch and just now you defended him even though the two of you aren‘t even friends. My love-radar is pinging like crazy around the two of you which is why I, Ginny Wealey also known as the love witch-“ “No one calls you that,“ you interrupted her only to be shushed by an evil glare. “I, Ginny Weasley, will help you in fulfilling your desire and getting together with Draco and I already have the perfect plan.“ “No no no no, please don‘t! Don‘t do this! Ginny no!“ you tried to make your point clear but she was already cleaning up her stuff and getting ready to leave. “Don‘t worry oh sweet Y/N, the next time we‘ll talk everything will be set in motion,“ she winked before dashing off leaving you standing in her figurative dust with your mouth agape for a few seconds before you let your head sink onto the table. This would definitely take an interesting turn…

After that you definitely started to actively avoid Draco which was - surprisingly enough - not as easy as you thought. Somehow he was almost always at least in your near vicinity. Besides the obvious factors of class (where you tried to focus on working and on praying whatever Ginny had planned wouldn‘t happen) and when you were eating in the great hall (where you had resorted to sitting at the very end of the table as far away from him as possible) he seemed to also be there in your free time. You were relaxing in the common room? He was there reading a book. You were outside with Harry and co.? Guess who’s coming their way to insult them (while not saying a single bad thing about you). By now there were just about three places where you were sure that he wouldn’t be able to pop up at any given moment. Your room, the bathroom and the potions classroom on Wednesday and Friday afternoon when class has already ended. After Snape had realized that he had some real potions-potential sitting in front of him he offered you extra credit as some sort of teaching assistant which basically meant that you helped him prepare lessons, helped him grade the first to third years tests and that you cleaned up and organized the potions classroom twice a week. Now usually, knowing that you were more than capable of handling the potions and ingredients standing around on your own after having seen you do it for a few months, you‘d be alone while you cleaned up except for the occasional visit of your professor to tell you which ingredients you should put on the students desks for the next class, but for some reason the next Friday - three days after Ginny had made her promise to you - the door already stood open and you could hear Professor Snape talking to someone. “I really expected better of you, your action is the reasons Slytherin has lost 50 housepoints and I hope you know that it is on you to gain them back, no matter your status,“ Snape‘s voice carried to where you stood and you wondered who the student was if Snape went so easy on them with his lecture. Usually you‘d be afraid for your life after losing even ten house points so getting such a calm reaction for 50 must‘ve really meant something. Your questions about the identity of the student were answered when you entered the dungeon room and immediately felt yourself freeze. Of course not even you (time dependent) sanctuary was safe anymore. Of course Draco just had to stand there and look at you without any identifiable emotion in his gaze. “Ah, Miss Hagrid, right on time as always,“ Snape nodded after he also noticed you and you felt slightly more at ease knowing that with him there nothing could really happen. “Should I come back later?” you asked politely, not sure if you had interrupted something. “No, you may stay. Mister Malfoy over here has got himself caught trying to sabotage McGonagall class, a childish act which I would’ve expected of the Weasleys but really not from you. As a punishment he will be the one to clean the potions classroom bi-weekly from now on until he has regained the house points lost. You’ll supervise him.” “I’m sorry, I’m not quite sure I understand.” “Malfoy will do all the cleaning but since he has no experience with it I can’t just leave him alone so, since you’d be here anyway, you can watch him and make sure that everything goes orderly.“ It wasn‘t really a question as much as a command, something that you were used to from Snape, so you just nodded and bid him goodbye as he went to his office, leaving you and Draco behind. By now you had seen through what was happening. This was Ginny‘s plan. Somehow she must‘ve managed to blame Malfoy for the prank on McGonagall - something rather extreme given the taken house points- hoping (or somehow knowing) that his punishment would force you to spend at least an hour with him alone in a dimmed room twice a week. Inwardly you cursed your friend, while outwardly you tried everything to avoid directly looking at Draco as you explained his tasks to him before you sat down at your usual place and pulled out a book really hoping you could get him to not talk to you that way. Either your plan was working great or Draco just really didn‘t care for you, because an hour later you still hadn‘t exchanged any words, instead he dutifully, but slightly pouting, had done his job while you shot him the occasional glance to make sure he was doing it correctly. “I think that was all, you should be good to go now,“ you told him with a small smile, relieved that you were finally free to leave the room and with that the tension that had built up inside you as a mix of nervousness and fear. Draco had opened his mouth to respond when a third year came rushing inside with at least twelve books in her arms that almost towered over her which she quickly placed on a table, slightly out of breath. “Professor Snape sent me. He said these have to be sorted and put away.” You could probably feel Draco’s sigh before he had made it and - not really fond of spending more time so frustratingly close to your crush and yet so far - you just nodded and told both of them that you’d take care of it and that they could leave, which both promptly did. You took the books and carried them to the back of the room where a sole, old bookshelf was standing - since the students mostly had their own books - and started putting them away when you heard a sickening crunch before suddenly the shelf including books came crashing down at you and before you could even think to pull out your wand, the world turned black.

“I’m so so so sorry, you were right I shouldn’t have interfered, if I’d just listened to you you wouldn‘t be lying here now,“ Ginny whined from beside your bed where she had been sitting for the past twenty minutes apologizing over and over again and blaming herself for the broken arm, leg and the concussion that had you unable to leave the infirmary for the next three days to a week. “Ginny, how often do I gotta tell you, it isn’t your fault! I would’ve sorted those books in anyways - no matter if you had pulled that prank or not - and it would’ve fallen anyways,” you tried to reassure her and gave her a soft smile. “But-“ “No but, okay? We can’t change the past anyways, and even if we could I wouldn’t because thanks to you, I don’t have to take that stupid DADA test.” Your attempt to lighten the mood seemed to work, because soon you and Ginny were back to your usual conversation-style and it relieved you immensely. It made you feel okay again. She was just telling you of a stung Harry had pulled in the Gryffindor Common room when she suddenly paused mid sentence and looked up. You followed her eyes to where they were placed firmly on a certain Platinum blond boy that looked simultaneously like he’d rather be everywhere else and like he was glad to be there, it was a sight to see. “I think I’ll leave for now, I’ll come back later with tons of sweets that Luna and I are going to steal from Harry’s personal stash,” Ginny said goodbye and gave you a wink as she walked away making you torn between wanting to roll your eyes and feeling yourself blush. Unsure of what to do next you motioned to the chair that Ginny had just occupied and Draco seemed to get the hint because he quickly sat down. “Hey-“ “Hi-“ “Sorry, you first.” “No it’s fine, you’re injured, you go first.” “Well, uhm-“ you took a deep breath to calm yourself down, “-I wanted to thank you, for bringing me here I mean, Madame Pomfrey told me you carried me all the way.” You looked away hoping that he wouldn’t see how nervous you were. “You don’t need to thank me, I couldn’t just let you lay there buried under books, your not Granger after all,” he said, seemingly trying to joke but immediately noticed that it was probably not the best thing to say given that you and Hermione were good friends. “Listen, what I came here for,” now it was Draco’s turn to take a deep breath, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something, but you were always with Potter or avoiding me or whatever, but after I saw you lying there… I guess I was just worried for you, I really don’t want you to get hurt.” Now that definitely caught your attention. For a second you played with the thought that this could possibly not be Malfoy but just someone else playing him with the help of polyjuice potion because he was definitely not acting like himself, but something in his word convinced you otherwise. “Thanks, I think, but would you mind me asking why? I mean...we’re not really the closest of friends,” you asked him, looking directly into his face to search signs of a possible answer. “Fuck it, I like you, okay? Happy?” You were completely stunned. Stunned, speechless, shocked. In all the time that you had been crushing on him you had never even really considered even the slightest possibility that he could reciprocate your feelings but now here he was telling you straight up. “You-You like me? Like like-like me?” You asked, just really wanting to be sure. There was a hint of nervousness and worry in his eyes, but he hid it behind a wall of annoyance. “You heard me, didn’t you? So, just get it over with, do you like me too or do you not, because if you don’t then I don’t want to waste my time any longer.” This definitely sounded more like the Draco you were used to and you had to giggle a little bit. “Yes, yes I like you too,” you confessed and like it was the most natural thing in the world you moved the uninjured hand over to where he laid on your bed and took it in yours. For the moment, you were caught in the shimmer of happiness and glee at having your crush there with you, definitely something more than your crush, and it would probably take a while until you‘d realize that there were some interesting things to follow, like telling your uncle about this for example...

[aerialflight]

Fic Recs (mostly Naruto cause I read too many good fics in the fandom and now I'm in hell)

[Naruto]

Spirit-Touched by phooykazooi

Once upon a time, the Haruno clan were priests. It was said that they were spirit-touched, and that they walked among the downtrodden and the poor, and did not bow to royalty.

Or, an AU in which Sakura can see spirits.

Part 1 of The Realms Between

(Really, and I mean REALLY fantastic Shikamaru & Sakura friendship! Fantastic, beautiful writing, and such good worldbuilding, god, and the Haruno family is so badass!! Sakura and everything she does makes me want to scream!! Please read!)

Final Evaluation by Do_the_Cool_Whip

Progress evaluations are one-on-one consultation meetings between academy students and their teacher. Their purpose is to inform academy students of their strengths and weaknesses and guide them down their ideal path to becoming a strong shinobi. Upon graduating the academy and passing their jounin-sensei test, new genin return to the academy for one final consultation. (Or: The story of what happens when Umino Iruka uses his final meetings with his students as way to send them off to become the best shinobi they can possibly be.)

(Iruka! Is! The! Best! Teacher! Ever! End of story!!! Great interpretation of all the characters and their capabilities and I am so so excited for the sequel that will undoubtedly come! XD)

Celestial Bodies by Oceanbreeze7

Sasuke looked at the fire, eyes glowing red as the mutated corrupted seal on his throat. "Amaterasu blessed me. I see things. Like you with two normal eyes and the Hokage. And Sakura with a seal on her forehead. And I run Chidori through Naruto's heart. I keep trying to kill him. Over and over. And that knuckleheaded idiot never gives up.”

(Don't you get it? I saw it. The moon will bleed, the nations will die. The world is going to end.)

Part 1 of Celestial Bodies and Anomalies

(I swear, this fic freaking elevated my expectations on Sasuke-centric fics in general holy hell. Also, read the fucking sequel after this cause EVERYTHING GOES NUTS AND THE PLOT GOES OFF AND I'M HERE FOR THIS SHIT. Fucking Uchihas man. Also, you wouldn't think this series is funny, but it is, and it's amazing.)

A step to the left (and right off the cliff) by weavingBlue

Team Seven starts off on a different foot and Sasuke's canonical journey to get stronger goes off the rails a bit. It all works out though. Probably.

(This fic went in a direction I didn't expect and it's GLORIOUS. SO FUNNY, I honestly was dying while I was reading this. Please give this a chance!!)

promises by BombsAreForBabies

It's her first kiss and Naruto's last. She promises him that she will bring Sasuke home. It's his dying wish, after all.

(Naruto bleeds out faster than the kyuubi can heal him.

Sakura learns that being a ninja is more than fancy jutsu and fun.

Sasuke does not know that he just killed his best friend and turned his most loyal comrade into his worst enemy.)

(Listen LISTEN I know this sounds depressing but the relationship developments and slow healing is EVERYTHING and I think it's absolutely worth it to read this. Sakura's characterization is so good and Kakashi makes me want to hug him. A lot.)

Fang Under Fang by Vroomian

"Are we sure he's really an Inuzuka?"

(The answer is no.)

-

Someone reborn as Inuzuka Kiba not only has to deal with bullshit ninja magic, but soulmates being A Thing.

(Really good self-insert fic and its platonic soulmates, not romantic! I am always here for a good Kiba-centric fic and I won't say who the soulmate is. It's unexpected but so, so good! Trust me!)

Haunt The Lonely by Tht0neGal666

(Series where Sakura can see ghosts and the Things she gets up to due to this ability. The fics are short but man, you can already see the shifting differences in Team 7's dynamics, it's great!)

Perception by Ellie_Enchanted

Naruto can sense auras, which throws everything off it's balance. Because really, with someone as open as Naruto running around and peering into the depths of people's souls, something is bound to change. In other words, sometimes all that's needed is a push. Also, Sasuke apparently glows.

(Naruto the empath changing the plot and making it Better and I am loving it!)

Crossfire by DejaVu22

Following the events of Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke never makes it to Orochimaru's hideout. Instead, he is waylaid by a one-eyed man named Tobi, a man possessing a Sharingan, a terrifying dual personality, a penchant for always being late, and a single-minded mission to stop the Akatsuki in their tracks. When Sasuke runs into Naruto again years later, he must ally with his old teammate in order to protect him from the Akatsuki, while keeping him out of the two man war Tobi and Sasuke have started against the dangerous organization.

(I honest to god can't stop cackling when I read this, the Sasuke & Obito dynamic is so freaking chaotic and Sasuke's characterization is the best thing I've ever read. This boi is a mEsS and I'm fucking rooting for him. He cares so much! There's secret identity shenanigans happening on sasuke's end and it's HILARIOUS! This is the duo I never thought I needed but here it is! *cackles insanely*)

-

[Diamond no Ace]

Echo in His Hands by SportRayne (rayningnight)

Ship: Miyuki/Sawamura

What does it mean, when you remember snapshots of your own future?

Is it your future at all, if you change it?

Would you even want to change it?

(Look I am WEAK for BAMF Eijun and time travel fics and Miyuki being a tanuki bastard, okay? Time travel fic where Eijun gets feelings of people he knew before in the future. Really good so far and am so excited over this fic!)

The path we walk by WindsOfTime

Ship: Miyuki/Sawamura

Eijun goggles at the magazine she just shoved into his hands. "W-Wakana!" "I know!" she says, beaming. "That's my soulmate!!" "I know!!" "My soulmate plays baseball!!"

(Became such an instant fave so fast it's unbelievable. I LOVE THESE IDIOTS SO MUCH! Best soulmate fic in this fandom, hands down!)

-

[One Piece]

switching places by fireflywitch

Zoro is 21 and wakes up in a desert they already saved, on a ship that they burned two years ago, and standing next to a man who is supposed to be dead. Except, that can’t be right, can it?

Zoro is 19 and wakes up on a ship that’s too big, next to a robot wearing a swimsuit, and he’s supposed to fight something called a Kaido. Also, he’s missing an eye, and no one’s even a little worried about it?

(or)

Time travel is a shitshow, and Zoro didn't sign up for this.

(FUCKING HILARIOUS ZORO IS THE BEST PERSON TO SEND BACK IN TIME CAUSE HE'D BE TERRIBLE YET FANTASTIC AT IT I CAN'T MAN FIEWNOPFEW)

No Time To Crank The Sun by VIKAN

He’s surrounded by strangers, but they’re all trying to convince him otherwise. Or, Zoro faces a mysterious and relentless challenge that he just can’t wrap his head around.

(This ripped my heart open, I cried reading this my god. Please read this, the pain is so worth it and Zoro and his relationship with his crew is so good here. This reminded me why I love the Straw Hats so much!)

-

[Fairy Tail]

to learn about a lucy (with a look into the future.) by るる凪 - nagi (arurun)

A watching the future fanfic.

It's currently X781, three years before canon. A group of Fairy Tail mages find themselves in a large building, with no known way out.

They sit down, and they watch the future.

(This is so much more fun than I thought it would be and I'm so happy I found this fic. This fic reignited my old love for this fandom and I hope it does for you too!)

-

[Harry Potter]

sunflowers by Marnie27

One day, a young girl sits on the edge of a well. On this day, she falls in. Then the next, she’s not even a ‘she’ anymore. He’s Peter Pettigrew — doomed to die at the hands of his (betrayed) friend’s son.

Peter is selfish, bitter and brash. He’s not some fairy tale hero, he doesn’t care if everyone around him dies, as long as he lives. The marauders are annoying and childish. Survival is his priority, and he can’t afford to face distractions.

This just makes the fact that soulmates are now apparently a thing all the more godawful.

(And then another day years later he falls into an entirely new impossibility, Remus Lupin in tow, right into the third book of Harry Potter. Smack bang on the other Peter Pettigrew’s grave).

It’s confusing and graceless, and entirely something that would happen to him of all people.

(Self-insert fic where a girl reincarnates into Peter Pettigrew! And there are soulmates! And it's angsty and hilarious and Peter is an Asshole (somewhat unintentionally lol). Always a fan of biased pov fics and characters slowly improving themselves and their mental health! Cause dying! Is! Traumatic! *smiley face* Please read!)

-

[Crossovers]

he's a killer queen, sunflower, guillotine by hoye

Fandoms: Fullmetal Alchemist, Harry Potter

He has to be the weirdest Hufflepuff Harry’s ever seen. Scratch that, he’s the weirdest Hufflepuff Hogwarts has ever seen.

(One thing everyone could agree on: NEVER call Edward Elric short.)

(This is peak Edward Elric and all the best things about him and I'm just having a Good Time. Friendships! Logical solutions! Marauder screentime! And so much More! *bright grin* It's a fun place here!)

[gotmeringinghellsbells]

Blue to Purple

Trigger Warning: Talk of suicide and depression.

Fandom: Stardew Valley

Characters: Sebastian/Jesse (Oc)

A/N: I’ve fallen into this game so hard. Before work, after work, all day on days off. This is a very addicting game.

Description: During another depression spell, Jesse confides his recent causes of stress in his husband who assures him everything is fine.

__

Sebastian looked over from the kitchen sink as he heard the door of the house open and close. He was a bit confused to see his husband home so early. Jesse generally would search for him to give him a kiss or hug, if not just a wave whenever he reentered the cottage; but something seemed off.

Behind the gothic farmer, a curious German Shepherd followed slowly before jumping on the bed after staring at it a moment. Putting the soapy sponge down, Sebastian washed his hands before looking to investigate what was happening. He made his way across the living room into the shared bedroom to see Yoshi laying on his side of the bed, being eaten slightly by a blanket monster.

The dog glanced at his new daddy before pressing his snoot back into his first daddy. "No, you stay," Jesse's voice groaned. Sebastian chuckled before walking around to his husband's side of the bed. "Alright, what's going on?" The emo gently rubbed the blanket covered back as he sipped his morning coffee. There was silence before a thumbs up snaked out from under the covers. This, in turn, freed their first son of the farm, as Yoshi ran across Jesse to greet Sebastian happily.

The smaller giggled before gently petting the dog and kissing his head. "Yosh, can you get down?" The dog cocked it's head. This was his bed. Why was he being asked to get down? Sebastian was a bit scared of the dog but respected Jesse's rules about the fur baby. What was Jess' was Yoshi's.

Sebastian sighed before patting his leg. "Come on." Jesse groaned as Yoshi jumped off of him and earned some praising pats. With the dog down, Sebastian moved to lay on top of the lump of seemingly depression. "One of those days," Sebastian asked softly as he gently rubbed the head part of the lump. Jesse shrugged before peeking out carefully as to not make him fall.

Jesse shrugged before moving a hand out to gently rub the face of his lover. They mad eyes contact. Sebastian's purple eyes widened a bit before falling slightly he noticed how bagged, blood shot, and puffy his husband's turquoise one's were. "Were you.... crying?" Jesse paused a moment before turning his head with a small frown. "I'm fine Sebby. Do what you gotta do today, okay? I just want to rest for a few hours."

Sebastian frowned before moving the hand off his cheek. He moved off the lump before setting the coffee on the night stand. "Keeping secrets," Sebastian asked with slight disappointment in his tone. "I'm just tired Seb. Night," Jesse sighed as he curled up in the messy blankets. The emo crossed his arms and nudged the lump of sadness. "You were crying," he accused. "Your eyes always get lighter and brighter when you cry. It's not just tired. What's wrong?"

Specific observation. Jesse shook his head. Sebastian rolled his eyes. "Jesse come on. I can't help if you can't tell me," he reasoned softly. "Hun, I'm aright," Jesse assured sweetly. He looked so tired. Had he been over working himself? Sebastian frowned. "Is there anything I can do while you rest," he asked. "Unless you know how to work the mayonnaise machines," Jesse sighed.

Sebastian frowned. He didn't. "The crops were harvested and watered via sprinklers. Animals petted and fed. Eggs collected and put in the mayonnaise machines, milk gathered and wool gathered. Yoshi's water bowl is filled and that's basically it." Sebastian frowned even more.

"Do you need help around the farm? I could take on some chores. " Jesse shook his head. "No, you work on your coding. I got it baby, promise." Sebastian wasn't convinced. "Are you stressed?" Jesse sighed. "Seb, please let me sleep." Sebastian felt a bit hurt by that and moved to walk around d to his side of the bed. He noticed a bare foot poking out of the blankets and swiped at it on his way over.

Jesse jerked his foot away with a squeak before peeking out from the covers as Sebastian giggled and finished coming around. That was a sign to put his foot back. "Don't, " Jesse pouted. Sebastian frowned again before sighing. Still in his pajamas, he crawled back into bed and scooted so his butt was against the other.

He wanted to be spooned.

Jesse sighed, guilt hitting him for his rather unnecessarily mean behavior. "Sorry," the farmer muttered as he moved up to do his duty. Sebastian shook his head as he took Jesse's arm and held it lovingly around him. "Nothing to apologize for." Jesse grunted in response as he moved to bury his face in the other's hair.

Sebastian made a bit of a face. "Jesse, please," Sebastian pushed. "I heard you muttering last night. What's going on?" The goth nuzzle closer before saying something into the dark locks. "Honey," he sighed, "you need to move out of my hair." "Just a nightmare. Don't worry about it." Sebastian gently kicked at his leg.

"Jesse," Sebastian huffed. The farmer was quiet a moment before sighing. "I keep having bad dreams. The mumbling in my sleep you've been commenting on is a result of stress dreaming." Sebastian huffed. "I knew it. Why don't you give me some chores around the farm? That would be less stressful, right?"

Jesse gently kissed the back of his husband's neck. "Your sweet. But that's not the source. Coming here from the city, from a stable 9 to 5 was a huge toll that I didn't realize until I got off the bus my first day. I left behind help, I left behind stability, and I was left to a sinking ship." Sebastian blinked. He had never heard this before. He heard about the financial struggles during the first two seasons of Jesse's first year in Pelican Town but nothing more in regards to his move.

Jesse started to play with the fingers that held his hand on the other's torso. "Sinking ship?" Jesse hummed in conformation. "Your mom never mentioned it to you? The cottage was old and quite.... well.... wasn't very well taken care of. The farm was over run by rocks, trees, and weeds galore. I was give some old tools and left with 500 gold to my name to make something of the place or risk poverty."

Sebastian was quiet. He didn't know about these things. They talked on a daily, even before dating and marriage. How hadn't he heard this before? "So I've been stressed about money. I have plans but then the resources don't play out and nature isn't always in my favor and things fall apart. But that's the farm g life. You take risks and gamble your income in hopes of a better income." Sebastian was quiet. He gently rolled over and snuggle into the other's chest.

"Why haven't you mentioned this before?" Jesse kissed his head lovingly. "I don't know, honestly. Guess me joking about how broke I was and just wallowing in my now worsened depression with you got me by it. Not like I can really get my meds up here." Sebastian pushed him a bit. "Harvey," he started, but was cut off. "He's very expensive. No, I will be fine."

The smaller pouted before sighing. He reached up to feel the long, black locks of hair. Jesse merely pouted before his eyes watered again. "I'm just scared to loose it all. After all, I bonded with each of those animals. They're like my kids. I couldn't think of having to sell them.

"Yoshi was a stray whodunit found lingering by my farm. I don't know if I could get him off the farm if I were to fail. If I had to move back with my mom, he'd be miserable. Cramped in a small apartment? Yeah right." He paused as he notice Sebastian look a bit confused. "I don't think I could force you into such instability like that Sebastian. I know you didn't feel you know.... at your parents but it would be better than being stuck with Yoshi and I as we fall back at my mom's place."

"No. I wouldn't be leaving you! What the hell Jesse?" He gently slapped at his boyfriend's arm. "What you come up here, then plan to ditch me if you can't stay?" Jesse frowned, he hadn't thought of it that way. "I'd find a job and help us back on our feet. Regardless of how cramped it is and full of people, as long as I'm with you I can handle the city. I can handle wherever we end up." He pressed his face in the built chest as he finished, hugging the other slightly.

Jesse felt tears well in his eyes. "Guess that brings us to issue three then. Finances, farm fears," he sighed. "I.... I feel like I ripped you away from your family." Sebastian froze. "Come again?" He didn't want to look up. "We new each other two seasons before I asked you out. Then we dated for like half of that fall, all of winter, and most of the following year's spring. Then I asked you to marry me.

"Just.... I was so in love with you. I could relate so much to you. Your just so sweet, dorky, nerdy, considerate, just.... your amazing and.... I feel like I rushed it with you. We've only known each other for a year and two season yet.... here we are. I just... I don't know. Between you, our farm, I just feel like I've.... just rushed everything for progress.

"I don't think I've done anything right." Sebastian felt his eyes water before he glanced up. "Are you.... questioning our marriage?" Years of just wallowing in self pity, depression, suicidal thoughts, never fitting in, never feeling like family to his family. This was really hitting hard. "Ah, no, no, no! Sebby no, I'm not.” Jesse panicked as he moved to wipe the tears away and gently kissed each, delicate eye lid. Sebastian blush a bit before being pulled into a tight, loving hug.

"You seem so happy now and I know you love it here. I'm just.... I feel I've messed up as a person is all. I'm so happy with this marriage and I know your in better health now. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have worded it like that. Same with excluding you from moving worst case scenario. Just.... city and three room apartments with two tiny bathrooms.

"I just didn't want you to feel caged in." Sebastian frowned before nuzzling into the other. "I like to feel small. A cage is something that can be used to contain something, but also protects it from the outside world. It's a misrepresented safety." There was a moment of silence before Jesse kissed the purple hair sprouting off his chest.

"I love you. I'm sorry." Sebastian shook his head. "Your an idiot," he sighed before leaning up to steal a true kiss from the other's lips. Jesse kissed back softly before they separated with small smiles. "Are... you good? I mean I said a lot and," Sebastian cut him off. He poked his forehead. "Is the farm failing?" Jesse shook his head. "Are we financially burdened?" Another shake. "Do you love me?" A nod. "You understand we're together through thick and thin?" Jesse paused before nodding.

"I accepted your proposal. I accepted your initial confession of love. I reciprocated it. I was so excited when you proposed, to be with you on you, 'sinking ship’. I love you, don't just brush me off like that next time your thinking of future plans. It really hurts. But if there's anything you need help with, ask me. Even if it's going into town and applying for a job."

Jesse kissed his head again. "I'm sorry," he whimpered. "I didn't mean it like that. Your right." Sebastian sighed before nuzzling into the taller gently. "I love you, I really do." Sebastian sighed. "I know you do, your just dumb," he laughed as he hugged him tighter. He was trying to get the taller to drop the subject. Jesse soon found himself giggling as opposed to whimpering as a finger traced gently down his ribs.

"Shehebby," he squealed as he shifted slightly, still holding the other. "Yes," Sebastian asked as me moved his finger up and down the ribs, scratching now and then. Jesse squirmed, giggling all the while. "Oh gosh it tickles," he snorted out, wiggling his feet. "Ah, it tickle, it tickles!" He was curling and really starting to wiggle his feet as he giggled softly. His stomach filled with butterflies and his chest felt lighter. As he gained muscle, his body had become quite .ore sensitive. What would normally only slightly tickle was now really leaving lingering sensation down his side.

"I'm hardly doing anything," Sebastian teased as gently added another finger. Jesse squeaked, holding him closer as his legs failed about. "Nhahahao! Oh gosh! S-Sebby please! Hehehhe!" Sebastian felt his own face heat up from the reaction. He stopped momentarily to sit on the other's waist; this would then warn a large blush followed by a shy look. "What are you doing," Jesse asked softly as he wiggled his feet a bit in preparation.

Both knew if he really wanted to. He could over power the smaller; but both knee, he would never do that. "I think you need to relax huh? Too mush stress isn't good for you." He was smiling gently, eyes looking over the taller fondly. Jesse felt his heart explode with butterflies from the delicate gaze. "Maybe some.... physical therapy will help?" Sebastian paused before cringing with a snort. "Sorry, I'm not very good at these.... things. Just... too dumb and sappy. Just, I'm going to tickle you." Jesse squealed just from the word. "No, Sebby," he whined before really giggling as fingers gently traced his forming pecs.

"Yes, Sebby. You need to smile more~." Jesse giggled, gently holding the other's arms as a brace. "Oh man, that's really sensitive! Mmmm!" Black hair was strewn about the pillow case as Jesse pressed hard into it. Sebastian giggled, giggled. "I would hope," he replied happily before moving to scratch around the soft forming bumps. "Eek! Hahahahha! Mmmm! Pfff! hehehe!" Jesse was such a gentle giant with him. It made Sebastian's heart swirl as he watched this man who could easily apprehend him just take the gentle, playful torment.

He never used his strength to his advantage or slight height difference. He was always so caring and sweet to Sebastian. Maybe a bit secretive and forceful now and then but never anything bad. When Sebastian was depressed, Jesse would just reply "same" before inviting himself to join the other in bed and cuddle him with a "but your not dying today." He would randomly bring him Jesse and his favorite foods, he was just.... an overall sweet guy.

He was covered in tattoos Sebastian loved to trace and rehear the stories behind, piercings that he'd have to free Jesse from when they'd get stuck in something, and had many scars; each with their own story too. They were similar yet different. But Sebastian was in love.

"Ah! Not the armpit! Eek! Nahaho please!" Jesse started snorting and gasping as he laughed hysterically and rolled around. His husband merely rode the bucking bronco with a smile as he tried to get through clamped arms to the gold spot. "No? Not going to let me in? That's alright, your thighs seem more appealing." Jesse froze as he felt the hands leave him. No. Not the thighs!

He gently took Sebastian's hand and smiled with residual giggles slipping out. He looked so tired yet so happy. "Oh no you don't." He gently moved Sebastian down, now hovering over him. "I made you nearly cry today. What kind of a husband would I be if I didn't cheer you up?" Sebastian blushed before feeling his stomach now flip with butterflies. "No, that's alright," Sebastian giggled out. God the anticipation could be the worst part.

"No, no it isn't. I love you and I need to make this right. I see you smile everyday now, laugh at our animals antics. But the laughter is never long lived. Don't tell me our home is starting to bore you." Sebastian shook his head vigorously.

"Oh no, Jesse please!" Jesse merely snorted before kissing each eye lid softly. "And where was my mercy?" Sebastian squeaked, squirming around slightly now. Jesse knew all of his weak spots having tickled him many times before, this was going to be hell!

"Coochie, coochie, coo," Jesse whispered into Sebastian's ear as fingers started to move gently under the cloth covering his love's torso. Sebastian immediately burst into a giggling fit, unable to suppress his laughter when disgustingly cringe worthy things are whispered into his ear. "H-Hey! Ahahaha! I wen-honey! Hehe he! Too much!" Jesse giggled as he let up, switched to just tracing with a single finger.

Sebastian calmed down significantly, covering his face as a wide smile was forced upon his lips. His feet wiggled as his hips turned from side to side. "Aw, is my darling husband too sensitive for even one, little finger? Is he? Man you are adorable," Jesse squealed out the last part. Sebastian's face was bright red from the teasing, his body going into affection and attention overload.

"Coochie, coochie, coo~! Ah, tickle, tickle, tickle my adorable Sebby~!" Sebastian shrieked from the teasing as he treated from freedom. Jesse paused to lift the pajama shirt up more to repeat the pale torso in all it's glory. Sebastian peeked out through his fingers, eyes watering and face radiating heat from his blush. He merely whimpered from the new child before giggling softly as fingers moved up towards his underarms, before moving back down again.

"Honey," he squealed as he gently tried to catch the intruding hands. Jesse merely giggled before lifting and arm overhead, causing Sebastian to panic. "Wa- wait! No pinning! Honey please, not there!" Sebastian was shyly trying to hide himself away as his husband slowly released his grip. "Really? Because last I knew, you pinned me by sitting on me, and didn't complain when I did the same," Jesse teased as he gently traced the underarm.

Sebastian shrieked before kicking his legs and shaking his head while covering his mouth. "T-This is unfair," he snorted out. "Oh? But I let go of your arm, pumpkin. There shouldn't be any issues now." Pumpkin? Rare as it was it made Sebastian melt. "Your killing me," he whined between giggles in response. "With love," Jesse reminded before slowly taking his arm back and re lowering the arm that was gripping the head boards to keep from closing. After a few moments of recovering, Sebastian noticed the lack of after care..... which meant.... oh no.

He dared to peek up, blushing more as he saw the other looking at him with such loving eyes. God they were both so gross and sappy since marriage. "Honey, what are you doing," Sebastian giggle out nervously. Jesse said nothing, just moved down a bit to sit on Sebastian's thighs. Wait.... why would he- no!

"Ah darling no!" Sebastian shrieked as he launched up to stop the other. Not the knees, please, not the knees, he giggled as he held Jesse's hands. "I... I can't! It's too ticklish!" The taller blushed before giggling a bit. "All the more reason to just gently trace it," was Jesse's reply. "Or fetch that duck feather out of the sell bin and just gently flick it here and there under your sensitive knees. Just dusting, crease cutting, feathering~?" Sebastian was as red as a tomato as he resisted the urge to cover his face. Once he let go. He knew it was game over.

"Or maybe.... we could play that game again? I know how much to enjoy thus~. I could just gently strike at your soles and toes while we play DnD again? A stock punishment? The feather u got today would really have you giggling." Nope, he couldn't do this. "Don't talk about it like that," Sebastian whimpered.

"Why? I like it too. It's relaxing, it's fun, it feels nice." That was really the only bonding he had with his mom that he could remember though. Demetrius never really bothered with him aside from telling him what to do and he was jealous of Maru so that only left his mom. She would tickle him to tears as a boy and young teen.

"Yeah but, you make it sound perverted," Sebastian huffed. "Oh, my bad," Jesse replied as he gently slipped his hand away. "Huh? Wait no! Jesse," Sebastian argued before freezing as a small squeeze was delivered to the under side of his knee. Oh no.

He glanced nervously at the other who smiled lovingly and did it again. A squeak. Sebastian was holding himself now, shaking his head. "Truce," he asked shyly. Jesse paused before sighing and giving a nod. If the other really didn't want to be tickled to death. He wouldn't force him.... at the moment. He moved to hold the smaller who quickly leaned into him. The flustered man quickly gave into the hold and went back to hiding his face in his husband. "Your so mean," he sighed as he started to calm down.

"Rude! I am not," Jesse replied as he gently tickled Sebastian's back. The giggles started up again as Sebastian fell into the other's chest. "Jess, stop it," he squealed. Jesse did before giggling himself and gently kissing his lover's head. "You know what sounds really good?" Sebastian peeked up from his chest like a kitten. "Hm?" "A power nap." Sebastian smiled before nuzzling in close to be held closer. "I love you," he hummed. "I love you too, Sebby."

[amysteryspot]

Better With You - Thomas Shelby x Female Reader

Request: If you can could you please do one about Tommy having a sort of possessive claim over you (not in an abusive way of course) even though you’ve never looked at him in that way, and when Michael comes into the family again you two get close, which makes Tommy extremely jealous.

Requested by: Anonymous

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Female Reader

Summary: Thomas has known (Y/N) for all of her life and loved her for most part of his, always disguising his claim on her as friendly protectiveness. What happens when Michael makes his way back into the family and starts to get a little too close to her for Tommy’s liking?

Warnings: swearing, mentions of war, mild smut (?).

Word Count: 3526

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this. Hope you all have fun reading it too. An especial thank to @the-friendly-editor​ for helping me edit this, it meant a lot to me. Tags are at the end of the post, if you want to be add send me a message. I would love to hear what you think of it, your feedback is always appreciated.

 Things you should consider before reading this:

1. I named the Shelby’s mother Anastasia because I felt like I needed to do that. Also, I know that there is a lot of discussion about Finn and the rest of the Shelbys having the same mother or not. I just assumed that they all have the same mother and she died a little after giving birth to Finn. It is not something groundbreaking for the fic but I wanted to clarify just in case.

2. The boys went to war right at the beginning of it; I just ignored the information given to us by “The Ballad of Tommy Shelby”.

3. I probably forgot to warn you about something, I’m sorry.

 (Y/N) = Your Name | (Y/N/N) = Your Nickname | (Y/L/N) = Your Last Name | (Y/E/C) = Your Eye Color

If you asked Tommy how long he had known (Y/N) (Y/L/N), he wouldn’t know how to answer—fuck, it seemed like the woman had been in his life forever.

He remembered the day his mother had brought him to the (Y/L/N)’s house for them to meet the new baby. Four-year-old Tommy had complained all the way to their neighbor’s house, much to his older brother’s amusement, until their mother had given him a scolding. (Y/N)’s birth had been the talk of Watery Lane. They finally had a sweet little girl for the neighborhood to dote on.

With two sons, Anastasia was more than happy to welcome the little girl into their lives, not so secretly longing to have a daughter, and that was the reason for Tommy to be fussing over going to see the newborn—jealousy.

However, nothing could have prepared little Tommy for what was about to happen when his mother sat him down on the couch and Mrs. (Y/L/N) put the bundle of covers in his arms—his icy blue eyes stared down at baby (Y/N), who stopped crying instantly when she looked up at him with bright (Y/E/C) eyes of her own. From that moment on, Tommy knew that he would always love her.

And love her he did, since that day and throughout all of their lives. He would raise hell at home for his mother to bring him to the (Y/L/N)’s home so he could see (Y/N), and the three adults would all be astonished at how easily the baby would stop crying when she was in his arms. It wasn’t really a surprise that the first word she babbled was “Tom” or that when she started walking, on wobbly feet, it was Tommy she was seeking.

As they grew up, they grew closer, until it became almost impossible to have one without the other. When Ada was born, Tommy was worried about the possibility that (Y/N) would forget about him, that she would be too enchanted by having another girl around. Instead, as the time passed, he discovered that his little sister was one more reason for (Y/N) to spend more time at the Shelby home.

Even when he started messing around with the boys on the street, and she befriended other girls at school, they would still seek each other out whenever they could. They stuck together when their teenage years came, when Tommy started fooling around with girls from school and secretly scaring down most of the boys that showed any interest in (Y/N).

At least, he did until the day she came crying to him about not being good enough or pretty enough for anybody, not like the girls he would go out with, and breaking his heart; that certainly wasn’t what he had in mind when chasing down the boys. All he had wanted was to protect her, to make sure that she wouldn’t exchange him for some other boy. He wanted to ensure that she was his and his only.

That was actually the reason that led to their first kiss—her first kiss—(Y/N/N) had asked him, pleaded with him, through all the tears to just kiss her and get it done. Fifteen-year-old (Y/N) was sure that nobody would ever want her, and she wanted to experience it at least once. She told Tommy he was the only one she trusted with the task.

“It will mean nothing to you, Tom. You have kissed a million other girls already—I will just be another one for you—but it’s important to me. Please, Tom? Please, please.”

Her pleas had won him over, but (Y/N)’s words couldn’t have been further from the truth—the kiss had meant something for him. It had meant more than he predicted when he gave in to her begging, because the moment their lips touched, Tommy realized he was in love with his best friend and the worst part was that she didn’t had a fucking clue about it.

Then Tommy did what he did best; he pretended that it never happened, pushing it away and never talking to anyone about the kiss or his feelings. He stopped chasing down the boys who would show interest in (Y/N) and watched as she eventually started going out with some of them, laughing with him about how stupid she was to think that no one would ever like her.

When her first boyfriend got too handsy and she broke up with him—not before giving him a good left hook that left him with a very black eye, just like Tommy had taught her—(Y/N) had gone straight to the Shelby home, looking for comfort in his arms. Tommy pretended that the gnawing feeling in his chest was nothing but brotherly protectiveness instead of anger, jealousy and possessiveness—a destructive combination, especially on a Shelby boy.

(Y/N) had stayed with him that night, and the both of them slept together like they used to when they were kids. First thing in the morning the next day, right after he left her at her own house, he found her now ex-boyfriend and beat him up. Arthur and Freddie had to get him off of the guy, afraid of what he would end up doing if they didn’t stop him.

After that, Tommy had focused on channeling his frustrations into going out with every girl in town that wasn’t her. It wasn’t difficult, he was good looking and charming and he was very aware of it; that’s how he met Greta, and thought that he could get over his feelings for his best friend with her.

Greta’s parents were against their involvement at first, but he charmed them, so they started dating. His heart broke down when (Y/N) found out and showed genuine happiness for him having finally found somebody to settle down with.

Tommy’s plan was to end things between them. However, Greta fell ill and he didn’t have the heart to break up with her, so he stayed by her side until she passed. (Y/N) gave him support in the only way she knew how: by loving him.

Just not in the way he wanted her to.

When they thought that things would go back to normal, the War exploded and Tommy did the only thing he considered right in his eyes: he enlisted alongside his brothers. Their first fight had taken place on the night he told her he was leaving for France in two weeks. (Y/N) had hit and screamed at him until he was able to take a hold on her and then, then she cried in his arms the whole night, afraid that she would lose him forever.

They did the best they could with those two weeks. Once more, nothing could have prepared Tommy for (Y/N)’s appeal the night before he was shipping to France. She had come to him right after dinner. Her father was preparing himself to leave, too, and both of the (Y/L/N) women were enjoying whatever time they had left with him before he was gone.

As they both laid there in his bed, resting in each other’s arms and staring at the ceiling, (Y/N) made the decision that would seal his fate if he could survive the war.

“Make love to me.”

It wasn’t a question, nor a request—she was simply telling him to make love to her like this was the most logical thing in the world. His breath caught in his throat, preventing him from answering at first, and (Y/N/N) took that as a cue to reassure him.

“It will be like my first kiss, Tommy, just something I have to get over with. I want it to be you. I trust you. Let me give you at least one last good memory of me before you go.”

Again, he caved in, not needing much more convincing than the certainty in her eyes as she looked down at him, propped up on one elbow. Her hand rested unintentionally above his heart. Granting her wishes, he let himself dive into his own desires, touching her the way he had wanted since they had kissed for the first time.

He worked her body like a delicate instrument and pulled at her strings smoothly, engraving every beautiful sound that he coaxed out of her and the feel of her under his fingertips in his memory. When morning came, they were still a mess of limbs intertwined together, trying to hold on to a last thread of hope and imprint the last few hours on their memories.

In a way, (Y/N) was right. The boy that entered that train in 1914 wasn’t the same that got out of it in 1918. Yet, his love for her never faltered; it just became a tad more… dangerous.

Thomas lost count of how many letters they had exchanged during the past four years. He lost count of how many times he dreamt of her, of coming back home and telling her how he felt. However, any courage he had gathered vanished the moment he saw her waiting for him at the train station. He couldn’t condemn her to a life by his side, he had already taken enough from her.

Polly had told him in her letters how (Y/N/N) had helped her with the business, with the house, with Finn, and with any other thing she could. Especially after her mother, who had given up on life after Mr. (Y/L/N) was killed in combat, passed. A part of him felt guilty for not being there for her as much as she was for him when his mother passed and his father left.

“She’s a Shelby now.”

That’s what Polly had said when he asked her if (Y/N) had any remaining family.

Not much changed when they returned. (Y/N/N) still worked with them. She spent more time at the Shelby home and the gambling den than at her own place. The two of them still sought each other out, not talking much, but enjoying each other’s company. It was in those quiet moments with her that Tommy had a little peace.

Thomas drowned himself in work to forget it all, wanting to expand the business, unleashing his ambitions so long smothered by the war. They found the guns, in a strike of luck, he thought. Both Polly and (Y/N) advised him to let it go, but he just couldn’t. It was too good of an opportunity.

Campbell had come because of it, and with him, Grace. At the time, he didn’t know who she really was. He thought that the beautiful, blonde barmaid was just that: beautiful and innocent, everything he and his family were not. So he fooled himself, fell for her, and then she betrayed him and left for America.

Again, (Y/N) was there for him, and again, he found himself sinking into his love for her. The only good thing that came from all this mess was that the business was never better. He thought that it was time to start planning for an expansion, and with that came another thing that he hadn’t quite predicted—Michael.

He had planned to find Polly’s children for her. She had been suffering quite a lot lately. Even if people thought that his heart was as good as gone, he wanted his family to be okay. He wanted them to be happy.

Thomas found the boy and he came to Polly, making his way into the family and the business quickly. That included starting to get close to (Y/N) – too fucking close for his liking.

It was supposed to be natural, he knew that. (Y/N) kept the books at the shop. She was better with numbers than most of them, so it was natural that she would be the one to help Michael when he assumed the position of accounts clerk.

After they came back, he learned that (Y/N) had become very good at sneaking around without getting caught. It was rare to see her with any men whose last name wasn’t Shelby, or wasn’t closely related to the Peaky Blinders. That didn’t mean she didn’t have men swooning over her all the time, or that he was finally okay with that—much like when they were teenagers, he wanted to chase them all down—the only difference was now he was more deadly.

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

It was Michael’s voice that brought him back to reality, and his gaze fell immediately on the boy. They were all gathered on the snug in the Garrison. (Y/N) was sitting between him and Michael, Tommy’s arm casually rested on her shoulders.

(Y/N) said, “Oh, no, you would totally get it... after a few more weeks.”

Everyone burst out laughing at her remark, but the only thing he could think about was the hand Michael rested on (Y/N)’s thigh. His own hand clenched around his glass before he downed the rest of its contents.

He didn’t notice Polly’s gaze on him. Despite what most people believed, Tommy had never been a good liar. He could get away with omitting information to people and redirecting the conversation, most of the time, but a direct confrontation was a completely different thing. Polly was always able to read him first, to know the things he wasn’t willing to share.

“Maybe we should just hire you instead of Michael, then.” He ignored the look (Y/N) gave him, taking another drag of his cigarette and looking away.

However, he couldn’t miss the lingering touches, or how (Y/N/N) leaned into Michael when he talked to her, and how she was just so comfortable with him. It made his blood boil.

When (Y/N/N) said she wanted to get home he offered to walk her, and was fairly surprised at how she didn’t say a word to him until they reached her front door.

Then she turned to face him, features painted with anger, and asked, “What the hell was that, Tom?”

He actually rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

(Y/N) huffed, turning around to unlock the door before entering the house, leaving it open for him to follow. She went straight to the dressing room, shedding her coat and throwing it at the table with her purse as he followed her closely.

“Oh, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

She was taking her shoes off, and Tommy took advantage of the moment to let his eyes follow her movements. God, was he in love with that woman.

“I’m talking about your attitude with Michael at the Garrison. That was completely unnecessary,” She said.

“Someone had to put that boy in his place,” Tommy said.

(Y/N) turned to him then, and he would be worried with that look if he hadn’t been at the receiving end of her anger for so many years.

“Oh, please enlighten me, Thomas. What is his place?” (Y/N) asked.

“For fucks sake, (Y/N/N), he was all over you!”

She rolled her eyes. “He is a boy, Thomas, a boy. He’s family…”

Tommy never thought that what would make him snap would be hearing her say that Michael was family, but apparently it was.

“He’s family, huh?” Thomas said. “He is fucking family! Then he should know better and stay away from you.”

She stared at him for a moment, brow furrowed, as she seemed to put the puzzle together in her head. “Why would he stay away from me, Tom?”

He turned around to face away from her for a moment, rubbing a hand over his face. “No, no. You won’t make me feel guilty for that.”

“Make you feel guilty for what, Tommy?”

He recognized the hint of annoyance on her tone and couldn’t ignore it anymore, the alcohol giving him the courage that he had lost that day on the train station, as he turned around and shouted, “For loving you!”

She held her breath, eyes widening as she stared back at him.

Tommy continued, “Michael should stay away from you because you’re fucking mine and I love you.”

“Tommy, I’m not your property, and you know that I love you…”

“No, you don’t,” he interrupted her, making her look at him with confusion, “You don’t love me the way I love you. The way I’ve loved you since the fucking day you asked me to kiss you when you were fifteen!”

He saw her flinch before murmuring his name, trying to gain his attention but he couldn’t stop now. The truth was finally out there and he just had to go on with it, let it all out before he lost his mind.

“You said to me that it would mean nothing, that it would be just another kiss for me, but you were wrong,” Tommy said, his breaths short.

She looked bewildered, and Tommy held onto a strand of hope he didn’t even know still existed.

“That kiss meant fucking everything. From that day on, I’ve never seen you in the same way as before, because I realized I was in love with you and you didn’t feel the same. So I ignored these feelings while I saw you going out with boys, and I’ve thrown myself into fucking every girl that wasn’t you because I knew I couldn’t have you, not the way I wanted.”

Tommy didn’t notice that he was walking to her until they were just a breath apart.

“Then I found Greta, and I thought that I could forget you, but it only reminded me that you are the only one I want. I was going to break up with her, but she fell ill. You stayed by my side, and just when I thought that I would have a chance to tell you everything, the war happened and I just couldn’t. I couldn’t, because there was no way in hell that I was going to risk going to fight in France and die. I couldn’t leave you here to suffer because of me, either because you felt the same or not.”

“Tommy…” (Y/N)’s voice was all but a whisper.

He couldn’t resist anymore, his hands brought her to him, his eyes observing hers from up close, not giving her time to talk or he would lose his courage.

“I was ready to go there and die, and never let you know how I felt. But you had to give me hope that night before I was shipped off to that fucking hell. You had to…”He took a deep breath, his eyes closing for a brief second, a flood of memories making his heart race faster. “You had to give yourself to me. You had to give me a taste of what I thought I could never have, to make me want to survive the fucking war, to come back to you, and to let you know about all of these stupid feelings.”

Tommy couldn’t wait anymore. He did the one thing he had wanted to since he had returned from France—he kissed her. It wasn’t gentle or patient; no, it was urgent and filled with passion and he didn’t know how to stop, not when she wasn’t pushing him away. He devoured her as a man starved, teeth clashing and hands grabbing at anything they could touch. They were both out of breath when they finally parted.

“You said that you wanted to give me one last good memory and it was that memory that kept me alive during most of the nights when I was stuck in the fucking mud,” Thomas said.

(Y/N)’s fingers were clinging to him like her life depended on it, like she was afraid to lose him to the War again.

Tommy took the moment to let the words spill out. “The memory of you and the feeling of you under my fingers, and all around me, and the way you tasted.”

His lips brushed against hers, fingers clawing at the flesh of her hips like they had done the night before he left for France.

He backed her up against the wall, hands trailing down to the back of her thighs, picking her up and trapping her with his body.

Tommy looked straight to her eyes as he spoke again, “How you writhed under me, all the beautiful sounds you made, and I just wanted to come back to you and make some new memories.”

(Y/N) shivered at his words. She gave him just a brief second to observe the rise and fall of her chest and her expanded pupils before he felt her fingers at the back of his head, forcing him to really look at her as she said, “Then let’s work on those new memories.”

Their lips clashed again, and every doubt that he ever felt vanished for a moment. That night their bodies moved together like old acquaintances, skin sliding against skin, hands gripping at each other, lips kissing every patch of skin while chanting a sinful choir of moans and curses alongside their names.

When Tommy woke up the next day, (Y/N/N) in his arms, he realized that he was finally home.

Taglist: @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @internalmess3

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Have you noticed the thing in fanfics of children's lit where the writer gives the protagonist new parent figures? The parent figures say things like "no child should have had to do x!". PF's don't prevent protagonist from doing heroism but might ground them for it after. Under their care, the protagonist is likely to get a job, often at the business of the PF. Seems less common for the Animorph (more in ATLA and Harry Potter), but if you have seen this, what's going on? Why do writers do this?

Why do writers do this?

Welcome to the fandom renaissance, Nonny!  My best stab as to what’s going on here is that we’re seeing fewer and fewer shipping wars due to a whole range of forces from “the average age of fandom is increasing” to “there’s an ongoing post-monogamy societal shift.”   BUT that there’s still a desire to see relationship-building fic go in the gaps where (for instance) Pro-Jacob Anti-Edward fic used to go.  So instead of writing about Edward and Bella’s romance, people are writing about Edward and Carlisle’s mentorship, or Leah and Rosalie’s friendship.

What’s going on?

Again, a stab in the dark: it’s a really fun story premise, one that can get away from the way ships are sometimes fraught with baggage.  Found Family is intensely cathartic, in the sense that it takes characters who are miserable and/or lonely in canon and allows them to build loving relationships with each other.  It also (IMHO) reflects that trend among Millennial Whippersnappers to move away from nuclear definitions of “family” and toward embracing everything from polyamory to sexless romance to adult adoption.

Not only that, but it’s awesome in that it lets writers play so much with foils.  Stranger Things obviously does this Up to Eleven (pun intended): Steve’s an arrogant jerk when he’s interacting with Nancy but a dorky sweetheart around Dustin, Hopper’s at his worst around Joyce but at his best around El, Billy’s evil to Max but might be redeemable around his mom, etcetera.  This premise gives fan writers the chance to get wildly different characters into a room together — what if the Tonks family adopted Neville Longbottom? — and start playing out the fun potential.

Why Avatar and Harry Potter (but not Animorphs)?

In a word: FOILS.  Both AtLA and Harry Potter are series filled with good, bad, and ugly mentors, and both series have contrasts between the good and the bad.  For AtLA, it’s no accident that Zuko finally reuniting with his father in S3E1 is intercut with the scene of Katara finally reuniting with her father.  Katara’s fam airs their grievances, talks things out, yells, cries, apologizes, forgives, hugs, and affirms their ongoing love.  Zuko’s fam deals with having 500 times as much baggage by... Zuko kowtowing silently on the floor while Ozai talks about everything but their problems with each other.  After that sequence, the desire to get Zuko into a room with Hakoda for some proper fathering is practically overwhelming, and many brilliant fan writers have obliged us by doing exactly that.

For Harry Potter, there’s no scene that’s as in-your-face with the contrast between healthy vs. unhealthy disagreement with one’s father, but there are still plenty of mentor foils.  Sirius and Petunia are probably the clearest examples.  Sirius is a raging mess who (on the surface) has nothing to offer Harry: he’s an ex-con with a drinking problem and untreated mental health issues who spends much of the series homeless.  Petunia has her shit together and (on the surface) is the perfect guardian for Harry: she’s a wealthy full-time parent who lives in a large suburban house, and is both his closest surviving relative and his legal guardian.  But of course all Harry needs from a parent is love and support, and Sirius offers that in spades while Petunia has none to spare.  Again, the desire to rip Harry away from the Dursleys and ship him off to go be a Black is overwhelming, and many beautiful works of fan fiction have done exactly that.

Animorphs... doesn’t have mentor characters.  Like, none.  Elfangor dies, Toby does her own thing, Erek can’t be trusted, neither Ax nor Jake wants to mentor, and all adults are possible controllers.  Eva’s the closest we get, but by the time she’s free, everyone (especially Eva) recognizes that the Animorphs are already more experienced than her.  We don’t even see a dynamic like the Teen Titans show where the villains mentor the heroes — Jake and Marco might occasionally parallel Visser Three and Visser One, but they don’t learn from the vissers the way that Robin does from Slade or Raven does from Trigon.  The kids just... find their own way.  So while people have written fic where Elfangor or Eva or Mertil or Tom mentors the team, there’s not this in-your-face missed opportunity for the kids to get the parenting they deserve in Animorphs the way there is with Harry Potter and Avatar.

Have you noticed the thing?

Personally, I love this trend.  I’m not much of a shipper — I’m not fond of “will they or won’t they” romantic premises, and actively dislike “they will because they’re soulmates” premises.  My favorite Ship Dynamics are all platonic.  Like, my faves include (but are not limited to):

Grubby Semi-Feral Mentee and Aloof Socially-Incompetent Mentor Bond with Alarming Speed Over Niche Magical Interest (see: Briar and Rosethorn in Circle of Magic, Boy 412 and Marcia in Septimus Heap, Jason and Bruce in Batman, Wart and Merlin in The Once and Future King)

Well-Intentioned Loving Parent Irretrievably Fucks Up Child, Copes with Fallout (see: John and Dean in Supernatural, Adam and Cal in East of Eden, Soichiro and Light in Death Note, Elaine and T.J. in Political Animals)

I’ve Only Known This Person With Extremely Specific Shared Trauma for 10 Minutes But If Anything Happened to Them I Would Kill Everyone (see: Toph and Zuko in AtLA, Luke and Annabeth in Demigod Diaries, Ax and Tobias in Animorphs, Spike and Angel in Angel, Parker and Eliot in Leverage, Johanna and Finnick in Catching Fire)

Saving the World Sucks But At Least My Ultra-Competent Siblings Are Suffering With Me (see: Edmund and Lucy in Chronicles of Narnia, Sam and Dean in Supernatural, the Hargreeveses in Umbrella Academy, the Crains in Haunting of Hill House)

Just Because I Tried to Kill You That One Time Doesn’t Mean I Won’t Help You Hide a Body, JFC We’re Still Family and I Don’t Know What You Take Me For (see: the Robins in Batman, Septimus and Simon in Septimus Heap, Kyle and Ian in The Host)

We Were the Weird Cousins At All the Family Reunions and We’ve Only Gotten Weirder Since (see: Kate and George in Story Time, Jake and Rachel in Animorphs, Po and Bitterblue in Graceling Realm)

[jikookuntold]

Jungkook Being Open about Himself

TW: This is a heavy analysis and contains deep theories and some conspiracy theories. If you don’t feel comfortable about gender and sexual orientation discussions, this post is not for you. I’m not going to talk about any ship in this post, it’s all about Jungkook and the image this fandom made of him.

Enough talking let’s get the bread!

The Wrong Image

After spending almost three years on ARMY-Twitter and other apps like YouTube or Instagram, I came to the conclusion that the majority of this fandom has this image of a masculine, bad boy, cold-hearted heterosexual Jungkook in their minds, something we can even consider as toxic masculinity. But is it true? Is this what he has tried to show us all these years? We can’t deny the fact that he wants to look mature and he doesn’t like to be called a baby, he made this clear many times despite doing some aegyo for the sake of ARMY’s satisfaction but his masculine and feminine sides are another story.

Masculine or Feminine?

Wearing makeup or jewelry on stage for an artist, can’t be considered as a feminine attitude but when someone does this on daily basis and recommends forgetting about the gender stereotypes it mean they don’t care about gender and “Not Caring about Gender” is a feminine attitude. Jungkook buys his clothes from local gender-neutral brands, he likes makeup and he’s called himself pretty many times. He said the great style is wearing what you want regardless of gender.

In Feb 2021 Elle Korea wrote: “Most of Jungkook's favorite fragrance products have sweet & lovely scents regarded feminine.” He is a sensitive and emotional person and he cries very easily. There are so many discussions about feminine body-language signs which all do apply on him but I don’t discuss them here because they are mostly not deterministic. Anyways, can we all agree getting tattoos or being buff doesn’t make you masculine? Jeon Jungkook has embraced his feminine side and he is far from toxic masculine qualities inside and out.

Sexual Direction?

I’m not in a position to discuss someone’s sexual orientation when they haven’t talked about it themselves but it surprises me how the majority of this fandom is so sure about Jungkook being heterosexual. In my opinion, this mindset comes from the image of him being super-masculine and being associated with girls in the early years after debut. We all know he had one (or two?) girlfriends before the age of 17 and he actually was open about it. In American Hustle Life he talked about how at some point he felt dating and not dating that girl doesn’t make any difference for him and he believes all girls are the same.

We all know how this industry works and idols never open up about their relationships, especially at such young age but Jungkook wasn’t hesitant, despite being a shy and introverted person. I’m not claiming to know him but I know him enough to believe what he says is the truth. This man never lies, maybe he won’t disclose every aspect of his life but when he speaks up he is telling the truth and nothing else. He could deny or ignore those dating rumors of early debut years but he wasn’t afraid of confirming them and showing his real self.

While I’m speaking about American Hustle Life, I should refer to another thing related to the topic. (I personally believe this AHS had such a big impact on all the members’ growth and not just Jungkook) When Jungkook was chilling near the pool with Yoongi, he told him about a woman he saw there who had a big tattoo on his back and he said he wants to get a tattoo. Yoongi believed this act will disappoint ARMY but Jungkook didn’t agree and said: “If they love us, they won’t mind.” Jungkook wants to be himself and shows his real self to us and believes if our love for him is real we would accept him as the way he is.

In my opinion, somewhere around Jungkook's 17th birthday something changed in him. This change has started earlier but at this period (Danger Era), it became more detectable. I'm not saying that he wasn't like this before, on the contrary, he was always like this, he was born with it but fully acknowledging it and embracing it took time for him. None of us had known or accepted ourselves in our teenage years and we tried and pushed lots of things to find our true nature. I believe the same happened for Jungkook and it was way harder for him because of the situation he was in.

Anyways, in late 2014 and especially 2015, the changes in his attitudes and manners were too visible to stay unnoticed by ARMY (I have to declare skinship and fanservice for the cameras are not my point, In this post, I have tried to draw a line between his work as an idol and his life as a person and my emphasis is on the latter part). He started to suggest openly gay artists’ works in his tweets. He even did cover those songs and used them for his G.C.F videos. If you have read the lyrics of the songs he suggests, covers, or uses for his works, you’d notice that all the pronouns are gender-neutral or male (he). The most interesting thing was when he eliminated the word "girl" from the lyrics of Savage Love but didn't do anything with the f word. He has used LGBTQ+ symbols several times, He has read gay novels, He named his flower bouquet “Various types of love” Now think about it again; does it make sense to consider him as a heterosexual?

Rumors...

Most of you know about the incidents when BTS had their short break in the summer of 2019. Jungkook started to get tattoos and when he was on a trip, two pictures of him got leaked and rumors of Jungkook and a girl (I'm going to call her person B) went viral. I'm not going to analyze those pictures or the rumors because BigHit’s statement did seal the deal for me, I knew Jungkook wouldn't lie or hide anything about it. If he had dated that girl or anyone else it was his business and when he denied it, I was 100% sure he is telling the truth but apparently it wasn't the case for the others. The pictures weren’t showing anything intimate or controversial, but since it was a boy/girl interaction they made a huge deal of it (Remember in a heteronormative world, boys and girls can’t be just friends!) The rumors haven’t died down after almost two years and they are using this to keep their fantasies of heterosexual Jungkook alive.

As someone familiar with this industry for more than a decade, I know they can’t let any of the popular fantasies to die, no matter it’s the fantasy of gay shippers or straight shipper or Y/N’s, no one has to be disappointed. Fantasy of Jungkook being straight was dying down in the middle of 2019. But how did that happen? Of course, any ship moments or interaction between members never been taken seriously. It would be interesting if you know the situation became serious just a few days before the person B incident. That day, an insulting and homophobic private conversation from one of the most infamous fansites of Jungkook got leaked and it almost outed him as someone who isn’t in the hetero world.

When ARMY called out this fansite for her toxic behavior and insult towards Jungkook, she threatened them to ruin his life and we knew she could do that because she had ruined other idols’ lives before that. Just one week after that the person B incident happened and the news of Jungkook having a girlfriend went viral. I’m aware the whole situation could be a coincidence but the timing of the events and many other facts prove it was a conspiracy to frame Jungkook and ruin his image and beside that, many people benefited from it.

Person B acted as shady as she could in this situation but I'm not going to go there because this post has become long enough already. Firstly we thought she is a victim of this conspiracy and pitied her but her subsequent acts proved otherwise. She did benefit from these rumors much more than anyone expected and did everything to stay on the top news.

Enough talking of person B, let’s speak about the fansite lady. Her actions were terrible enough to get blacklisted by BigHit but surprisingly she didn't and after that, she took part in Japan fan-meetings, Melon, and Mama (or other programs I’m not aware of) until the COVID19 made everything canceled. Many people know she is more of a saesang than a fansite, and saesangs have a close community and they know each other very well. On the other side, we know many companies hire saesangs for their idols to find out about their private lives and have more control on them without being strict. And this is why I believe BigHit can be the mastermind behind all of this.  

Why am I so pessimistic about BigHit? Think about the statement they made to deny the rumors, I know this statement was made with Jungkook's permission but he didn't write it himself obviously and the wording wasn't the wisest. We heard months later from the guesthouse manager that Jungkook went there with his own manager but they didn't even mention it in the statement. Why? Let’s not forget the worst, when they made him apologize in the last episode of BV4. That was unnecessary either and brought back everything to the surface when it was about to die down. I know they support the members and they try to protect them in every way but that statement always makes me think of them as a shady and hypocritical company like any other company in Kpop. I know BigHit benefited from these rumors and I think BHxFansitexSaesang collab is a possible scenario.

What did Jungkook do after all of these incidents? Obviously, he had no choice other than to accept his fate but the fact is we failed him as fans. He loved and trusted us from the bottom of his heart, he showed his true self to us, he gave us lots of hints about himself but the moment he sat next to a girl, everyone forgot everything. We disappointed him and he came to the conclusion that no matter what he does, the fans will think what they want to think.

If you were patient enough to reach this far in this post I’m gonna salute you but you probably think I’m delusional and went too far in my theories (I had the TW at the beginning of the post and I had to get all this off my chest lol) but for the last thing I’m going to quote and analyze something Jungkook mentioned in JHope’s Vlive after the release of CNS.

“I never thought I would fall for a man”

This was his very first public appearance of Jungkook after the person B incident and managing to say these words in this situation was definitely meaningful and remarkably wise. What did he mean by this? Did he have to state he never thinks he can be gay at the exact time when the rumors of him being with a girl were breaking the internet? No, it doesn’t make sense at all. In fact, it was the exact opposite, he said that to make it more clear and chastise us for not getting him all these year. His face was very expressive while saying this and considering their conversation topic (watching JHope’s dance) I believe he had this statement ready for days and he left it to us to understand him or ignore him again.

The End.  

[concussed-to-pieces]

Stay Safe Part Ten: Shereshoy

Fandom: The Mandalorian [Star Wars]

Pairing: The Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Welcome, welcome! Rejoice my step-children, for today is prime indulgence hours. You've waited long enough. Enjoy!

Tag List: @wrestlingfae @huliabitch @toxiicpop @renegademustelid @helplessly-nonstop @culturalrebel @sinnamon-bunn @literal-fand0m-trash @hoodedbirdie @fioccodineveautunnale @thyestean-feast @kateb013 @hxldmxdxwn @lizajane3 @thewaythisis @nellyneko @oh-no-who-am-i @crownofmanga @talesfromtheguild @robbinholland @kylolover96 @lukesrighthand @lackofhonor @lightan117 @misssilencewritewell @theorderoffallenstars @iwantsethrollinstohitmeintheface @fan-g0rl

Part One: Should Have Known Better

Part Two: Tranquil Turmoil

Part Three: Vibroblade Mettle

Part Four: Reaching Out

Part Five: Dark Past

Part Six: Go Alone

Part Seven: Like A Ghost

Part Eight: Savior At High Noon

Part Nine: Swan Song

Interlude: How He Sees The World

Shereshoy [pronounced sheh-REYSH-oy]:

"Lust for life and much more." "Hanging onto life and relishing it." A uniquely Mandalorian word meaning the whole-hearted enjoyment of each day and the determination to seek and grab every possible experience, as well as living to see the next day. Unrestrained, unrestricted, wild and eager.

...x...

Waking up with the clammy chill of bacta all over your body was not an experience that bore repeating. Somewhat like being Shanghaied. You weren't sure how you could feel both sticky and slimy, but the sensation was managed with flying colors. 

You had only been in the Nevarro med-center once before, when you had accidentally degloved your fingertip in a rivet hole. As you were an independent contractor (who normally prioritized trades of goods or food over credits in exchange for your labor) the best you could get at the time with your limited funding was a bacta patch. Your left index finger still bore a faded ring of scar tissue around the first knuckle.

So when the droid nurse in the medbay informed you of the fact that you had been healing in an actual bacta tank for a little over half a cycle, the blood loss and internal damage having nearly done you in, you were thrown for a loop. 

"You organic lifeforms are so foolhardy, always pushing your bodies too far." It scolded after removing the basin of lukewarm water that you had scrubbed your face and hands with. The artificially warm tone of its vocoder took some of the bite out of its words. "You have been cleared for removal from the tank, but I would advise against strenuous activities for several days."

You nodded from the cot, still staring down at your legs. You were a bit dazed, a bit fuzzy on the details of how you had gotten here in the first place. Your last intact memory was of tilting your head back to watch Moff Gideon's ship soar through the sky with the Mandalorian attached. After that, there was nothing but vague flashes, more sensation than visual. "How...how much is this going to cost me?" You asked, trying to remember the conversion rates for liquids and solids and whether bacta counted as a liquid or a solid. Was it sold by the pound or by the liter? Maker, this would be a hell of a debt to work off.

The droid tittered strangely, patting your arm. "Oh, I suppose you would not recall being delivered to us. The man who brought you in paid the deposit for the tank, and then returned three days later with the rest of the credits. You are very fortunate to have such a good friend!"

The man who brought you in. "Was...w-were they a Mandalorian?" You knew you sounded a little too desperate, but you couldn't bring yourself to care at the moment. 

"You do remember! Yes, that is correct." The droid affirmed cheerily.

"Do you have any way to get in touch with a man named Greef Karga?" You rushed to inquire as the bot turned to roll back out the door. You had been about to ask for Cara, but decided against it at the last second. You were uncertain if she was still...at odds with the law.

"The leader of the Nevarro Bounty Hunters Guild? Of course, everyone knows how to contact him! But you rest, rest rest. If I can get ahold of him and if he's not busy, I'm sure he'll be along shortly." The droid assured you.

You flexed your hands with a soft yawn after it left, and then you settled back against the pillow. Every muscle in your body felt a bit stiff, likely from lack of use. Half a cycle. Two weeks. Maker, you had nearly died. What a horrible scenario. 

He had nearly died. Your throat ached with an unnameable emotion, you hand sliding down to graze over the new scar on your side. It was larger than you expected, and you flinched when you actually looked at it. Better scarred than dead, you thought pragmatically, even while tears welled up in your eyes. You blinked them away, biting your lip.

You only meant to close your eyes for a moment, but when you opened them again, it appeared to be much later in the day. Afternoon sunlight was pouring in via the small window over your bed, the tiny fan doing little to combat the heat seeping through the sheet that covered you.

You heard someone clearing their throat beside you and you turned your head, eyes landing upon the visage of one Greef Karga. Posted up beside him was Cara, her arms crossed over her chest. "Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean to doze off." You apologized, floundering to sit up.

Greef waved off your words. "Relax, we've only been here for a few minutes. You looked so peaceful, we didn't want to interrupt." The older man jibed. 

"You gave us a hell of a scare, rookie." Dune scolded, sharply contrasting with Karga's lackadaisical opening statement.

"How did...what happened?" You asked nervously.

"Well, it was all very dramatic. Mando blew Gideon's ship clean out of the sky with one of those fancy gadgets he's got, then he gave you a quick burner patch on the spot." Karga mused, "Your Mandalorian caused quite the stir when he came back here with you. Damn near kicked the doors down."

"Not mine." You corrected him automatically. 

Cara scoffed and Karga raised an eyebrow. "Are you entirely certain about that, my wayward little friend?" You gave him a confused look and he shrugged, adjusting his body in the obviously-uncomfortable folding chair beside your cot. "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. Really, I ought to thank you. If you hadn't dragged that metal-plated moron off the battlefield, I'm certain we would still be under ex-Imperial control. I got my best hunter back, and a new enforcer to boot." Greef said with a smirk, gesturing up and down at the sturdy dropship trooper alongside him.

"Glad to be of assistance." You informed him dryly.

Karga chuckled at your wry tone, and then folded his hands in his lap. "All joking aside though, it's good to see you out of that tank. I think...I think it'll do him some good as well." The older man sighed, "For lack of a better word, he's been inconsolable since the big brouhaha. Gonna' run the Guild out of bounties if he keeps it up."

You cocked your head, asking, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Mando has an interesting way of coping with his emotions." He elaborated dryly. "I get the feeling he's one of those people that, if he wasn't a Mandalorian, he'd probably resort to panic baking."

The idea of the armored man in a bakery somewhere (probably using his flamethrower to carmelize the top of a crème brûlée or to dispense justice to unruly customers) sprang into your mind unbidden and you burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just--that's such an image, I-" you wheezed helplessly.

Greef chuckled again, taking your hand. "Do me a favor, alright? I promise it won't be difficult."

"Absolutely." You agreed quickly. After all, Greef was probably the one responsible for feeding the Mandalorian the bounties that had funded your healing time. Stars, the debt you owed the armored man seemed to be climbing higher by the second!

"He's due back in two...maybe three days, if his hunting track record is anything to go by." Karga squeezed your hand gently. "Go to see him." The serious tone of his voice caught you a little off-guard and you shook your head at him after a moment of silence. 

"I doubt he'll want to see me." You mumbled. "I mean, I left the ship because he told me he didn't want me involved. He said...he said it was Guild business. Then, I ended up getting involved anyway and...well, almost killed in the bargain. I guess he was right to try and keep me out of it." You rubbed at the scar on your side nervously. It sat just above where you had landed on Calican's buckle, puckering the skin slightly where it had once been smooth. You weren't certain you would get used to the odd sensation.

"That's why you left?" Cara sputtered. "He said he hurt you. I gave him an earful and everything!" She grimaced. "Now I feel like an asshole."

"He...what?"

"Yeah, he said that he 'lost control' and hurt you, and that it was better that you stay as far away from him as possible. He sounded all kinds of fucked-up over it." Dune pursed her lips, eyes narrowing. "If he didn't believe that he deserved it, I doubt he would have just sat there and taken the tirade I unleashed. I uh...I lit him up pretty good." She finished with a wince.

You stared up at her, somewhat dumbfounded. "O…Oh." You replied weakly.

"I think...well, it's not my place to say, but I think he'll be happy to see you. As happy as a Mando can be, anyway." Karga said quietly.

You thought back on every instance you had heard the smile in his voice, the precious times that you had made him laugh--

And you nodded firmly. "You'd have to knock me out with beskar to keep me away."

Cara grinned and thumped her forehead against yours. "That's the spirit!"

Greef's laughter was raucous (and a little sheepish) and you couldn't help joining in. 

...

Getting back into the Crest was the easy part. The worst issue you encountered was that it was raining softly, making a humid haze rise from every surface and ensuring that you would leave footprints. 

After two members of the Guild offloaded the carbonite plaques and trotted away with their hoverskiffs, you slunk out from behind the crates and bolted forward.

It only took one try to get the combination this time. He hadn't changed it. He usually changed it once every three days, so that was strange.

You entered the cool, dark hold with a small amount of trepidation, tiptoeing towards the ladder as the hatch slid shut behind you. Soft sniffling from behind the bunk shutter met your ears faintly and your heart broke. Almost before you could think about it, you hammered your fist down on the controls to raise the barrier. 

The kid was sitting in the bunk, little hands pressed to their eyes while they snuffled and whimpered. They looked up at you in panic and it was so strange to see the second that they recognized you. They stumbled forward into your arms, those tiny claws scrabbling at your damp tunic as they sobbed. 

"Oh sweetheart, sweetheart…" you whispered, cradling them close to your chest. "I'm right here with you, it's alright now. Everything will be fine." You stroked the back of their head, blinking away your own tears. 

They started hiccupping, their little body jolting with the force of it, and you toted them into the refresher. With a bit of cajoling, you got them to hold still while you swabbed over their face with a warm cloth, cleaning off the grime of the day and those tear tracks. 

They were still sniffling slightly when you pressed a cup of water into their little hands. "You're probably thirsty after all that hard work, huh?" You asked softly, sitting down cross-legged on the floor in front of the bunk. "I wonder how long he's been gone for." You continued, thinking aloud. The child hurriedly gulped down the water, holding the empty cup back out with a little whine. "Ha! Of course, as soon as I sit down." You teased, hauling yourself back up to refill the paper cup. "Alright, slower this time. Don't want you getting a tummy ache." You instructed, holding the cup for them so you could moderate their sips.

You watched as their huge ears began to perk back up. They looked for all the world like a freshly-watered plant, and the mental comparison made you snicker. 

"My favorite little mudjumper." You sighed, straightening out their teeny robes. At least they were clean and dry, not that you had anticipated the Mandalorian letting the kid's health or hygiene fall by the wayside. Knowing him, he was probably more likely to forget to wear his helmet than cause the kid to suffer.

You sat there peacefully for a while as the sky outside darkened, just listening to the rain beating on the hull and stroking your fingers over the kid's head. The child sprawled out on your chest, their eyes slowly sliding shut as you continued to console them.

You were eventually roused from your staring contest with the floor by the sound of the ramp extending and then heavy footsteps. The cargo bay was almost pitch-black now, the only light coming in from the now-closing boarding ramp. The rain was still beating down, though. It had picked up while you sat, drumming a tattoo on the roof high overhead.

There was a faint click and machinery hummed to life, the hold becoming softly illuminated by the orange running lights beneath the floor grates. Your heart lurched in your chest when you spotted the Mandalorian fiddling with his gauntlet by the loading ramp, obviously focused on it. Your heart now felt like it was about to beat out of your chest. It was a miracle you didn't wake the child with the frantic motion alone!

You couldn't move. You could barely breathe, your nerves threatening to strangle you. All you could manage to do was sit there in silence and just...wait. 

How would he react? Would he be angry that you were here? He had paid for the bacta tank, would he require you to pay him back? The thoughts bounced around in your head frantically, making your stomach drop out with apprehension.

He grunted something, sounding upset as he dragged a hand down over the front of his helmet and sagged against the wall. Maybe you shouldn't have done this, maybe...maybe you should have waited to see whether he sought you out first.

Your brow furrowed. No. You had done enough of that. It was your turn now.

You heard his breath hitch and you realized belatedly that you had stopped paying attention to what he was doing. Clearly he had noticed you, if the tilt of his head was any indication. His hands fell slack at his sides, like he had forgotten about his gauntlet entirely.

"Didn't mean to startle you." You said quietly, not wanting to rouse the child that was still slumped over on your chest. 

He didn't move. Didn't respond. Hell, you weren't even certain if he was breathing anymore. He just stood there, his cape dripping a small puddle onto the grating beneath his feet. 

The kid yawned, smacking their lips and snuggling back down against your collarbone. 

"Put the...put the kid in his crib. Please." The Mandalorian requested. His tone was even, giving you absolutely nothing to go on as far as gauging his thoughts. 

Stars, you had missed the sound of his voice. You almost didn't want to admit it, but it was the truth. 

You carefully got to your feet and turned, laying the child down in their bassinet. Your hand hovered over the controls to close the protective shielding, silently waiting for confirmation.

"Yeah. I...yeah. Please." He muttered. 

Once you had done so, you shifted back to face him. You kept your eyes on your boots though, unable to look at him just yet. Anxious nerves wrung the life right out of your voice, making it crack when you finally began to speak. "I-I'm sorry. I know you didn't...I know that I went against what you told me to do, b-but--" You heard him swear and then a sharp clatter met your ears. He must have lunged across the hold because abruptly, a set of gloved hands were cupping your face and dragging it upwards. 

You had shut your eyes and tensed up on instinct when you saw the hands coming, so the mouth that pressed to your own was a bit of a shock. You froze, then sighed with relief and leaned hard into the kiss. Your hands rested on his chest, greedily pawing the familiar beskar (and the not-as-familiar way that it pitched under your touch). He groaned against your lips and pressed your back to the wall, his own hands grasping for purchase on your shoulders.

He had missed you. Or at least, it certainly seemed that way! Any other thoughts you had at the moment fled under the assault of his desperate mouth.

He exhaled raggedly and then buried his face in the junction of your neck and shoulder. He didn't say anything for the longest time, one hand falling to clutch at the fabric of your tunic over your side. His shoulders heaved and you realized he was crying, breath wheezing through his teeth from where he had bitten down on his glove to stifle the sound.

You kept your eyes closed and cautiously, carefully, you slid your hand up into the hair at the nape of his neck. "I'm here." You whispered. You felt his knees buckle and he swayed, forcing you to grab a handful of his soaked flight suit to steady him.

"M' sorry, I-" he rasped. "I'm getting you all wet. The rain, I..." 

"Yeah...I don't know what they call it on Mandalore, but here, we call it crying." You teased him softly.

He actually laughed at that, pulling back a little. "Guess now I know why Karga and Dune told me to take the day off. I went to the medbay and you weren't there, I-I figured you'd left Nevarro for good. Why…" he swallowed hard, then continued, "why are your eyes shut?"

"I uh, it was mostly a reflex." You admitted. "Should I…" Your throat had gone bone dry. "Sh-Should I open them?" 

"I…" He hesitated. "You already know my name."

Din Djarin, the words tripping over one another as he struggled to get them out through a mouth that barely worked--

"Well yeah, but that doesn't give me viewing privileges." You retorted. "Hell, that doesn't even give me permission to use your name. Knowing it is only a part of the equation."

"Do you...want to use my name?" He sounded breathless.

"I mean, I wouldn't--I wouldn't mind it." You admitted weakly after a few seconds of hemming and hawing. "Only if you're okay with it though!" You rushed to add, feeling as if you needed to make sure he knew he could retract the offer. "I know that it's got a lot of weight to it." He wasn't angry at you. He wanted you to say his name and see his face.

"I'm terrified." He replied bluntly. "I haven't shown anyone...well, ever. You're the only one that's--I-I mean, you're the...you're it." How could someone make you weak in the knees while also simultaneously being absolutely, entirely, outrageously awkward? 

"I can start with your name, and if you still want to...I mean, you make that choice, okay?"

"I want you to see. I just don't know if I…I mean, the idea of you...I thought you were going to die, all because I screwed up, pushed you away. I want--I need to make sure you don't...that you don't…" He struggled with his words, gloved hands wrinkling your tunic beyond hope when he tightened his grip. "I can't, not again. I'm so sorry." He finally muttered. His mouth pressed to your neck, kisses trailing wet and hungry over your skin. "Please, please say my name."

"Din." You whispered, again struck with the sensation that you were breaking a multitude of rules as you felt him shudder bodily. "Din...Djarin."

"Shit." He groaned, tilting his head back. "That's...that's nice." He sounded a bit faint.

"Please don't pass out." You murmured. "All the beskar would absolutely crush me and I don't think you want to try and scrape me up out of the floor grates."

He choked out another laugh, wet gloves smoothing over your hair. "Sorry. M' just tired. This feels like a dream." He sighed heavily. "I have to wash up. Get out of this suit so it'll dry."

"I'm all for getting you out of the suit."

He smiled against your neck, "yeah?" 

"Mmhm." You nodded, blindly reaching for the clasps on his gription harness. 

Between your sightless fumbling and his hungry kisses, it took much longer than normal for him to get out of his armor. He couldn't seem to stop kissing you, seeking your mouth again and again.

"Making up for lost time." Din grunted, finally managing to divest himself of his flight suit altogether and then jerking the liner shirt off over his head. He pressed his body to your own and you flushed wildly. Last time he hadn't even fully removed his flight suit, and he had kept the liner shirt on. It was surreal to be able to touch him like this.

He seemed to agree, if the helpless noises in his throat were any indicator. You trailed your fingers along his chest, sliding boldly down to stroke through the thick curls that started right above the waist of his compression leggings. "Pare, wait, I need…t-to shower." He pleaded, his hands fumbling on your shoulders. "H-Have to do this right." His forehead bumped against yours. "Have to do this right." He repeated, now grinding himself down into your palm instinctively. You easily found the thick arch of his cock through the leggings and you couldn't resist giving him a gentle caress before you pulled away.

His breathing sounded distinctly shaky. "Okay. Go ahead." You urged him, making a shooing gesture in what you hoped was the direction of the refresher. 

"Hang on," he protested. "Wait, ch-changed my mind, come here."

"Mm, nope! Go shower." You cupped his jaw, feeling him swallow hard. "Get cleaned up. I'll be here when you get out."

"Stay...stay at the sink?" He bargained. You could hear him fumbling with something, probably his leggings. 

"Absolutely." You kissed his nose. "Now go shower, you smell like wet Wookie." 

He embraced you without warning, wrapping his arms around you tightly and pressing his cock against your stomach. "Wait for me." He requested, the kiss that followed absolutely voracious. You clung to his shoulders, rendered helpless under the attack of his mouth. 

"Y-Yeah, 'course." You stammered when you could think again.

He took your wrist and led you forward until you could touch the sink, and then he got into the shower. "When did you wake up?" He asked after he had keyed the shutter closed. 

You opened your eyes and leaned back on the sink, tapping your chin. "It's been about...three days?"

He swore under his breath and you heard a metallic rattle. "Shit, c'mon, stupid-" The water abruptly burst on and he yelped. You couldn't stifle your laughter, though you did try. "So glad my pain amuses you." He groused through the divider. "Here I was, coming back to my ship all torn up, thinking that you were gone forever and that I'd never see you again."

His words were annoyed but you could hear the soft sadness in his tone. "I think I've made it abundantly clear that I don't know how to leave you behind." You replied gently. "Plus, bacta tank time isn't exactly cheap."

He scoffed, "Yeah, we need to talk about that. Later. Once we're in a proper headspace for it." He was silent for several minutes, the only noise the running water of the shower and the thunder of the rain overhead. "I don't...look, the bacta doesn't fucking matter. I'm just...I'm glad you came back," he muttered finally. "Glad I didn't ruin everything like I thought I did."

"You've got an uphill battle ahead of you, Din." You luxuriated in saying his name, though your words were ultimately serious. "Why didn't you tell Cara the truth? She said she yelled at you pretty bad."

"I did tell her the truth." Din sighed. "Look, I hurt you. You can't say that I didn't. Physically, emotionally...wounding happened. You didn't feel welcome to stay anymore and I sure as hell didn't give you a reason to." There was a quiet thud. "I knew she would rip me apart and honestly, I think I needed that to parse everything. But stars, that woman took the paint off."

You grimaced. You could only imagine the awful things she had (probably) shouted at him. You heard the shower turn off and you shut your eyes again, tilting your head at the sound of the shutter sliding.

"Mm, I could get used to this." He murmured. All you got for a warning was the rustle of a towel and then, he was on you. His mouth claimed your own and he chuckled when your hands immediately found his damp hair. "You really like that, huh?" He commented, sounding amused.

"Listen, I've been through enough. Let me have this." You complained, yanking playfully at his shaggy locks and laughing when he grunted. 

"You keep it up and I'll let you have a lot more than just that." He threatened, peppering your cheeks with kisses. He then grabbed the hem of your tunic, stripping it up off your body to leave you there in your breast wrap. The breathy noise he made was enough to have you flushing hot; you could almost feel him looking at you. "Maker, I don't deserve this." He whispered as he pressed his palm to the faint scar on your side. "Any of this. Over this...half a fucking cycle, I kept thinking that I must have made you up. That there's no way someone like you could even be real."

He sounded reverent again and it made your head spin, it had you gripping his shoulders while he slid down your body to peel your pants off. The mental image of him naked on his knees in front of you--

Stars, you wished you were brave enough to open your eyes.

One large hand slipped between your thighs, urging you open with the gentle press of his other hand hooked right above your knee. "Let me see you, let me see." He breathed, his fingers groping forward until they encountered your slick. You squirmed a little, hoping that he wasn't put off by how wet you already were. You couldn't really help it, of course. "Oh, fuck, you're s-so--you're dripping for me, fuck." 

"D-Din…" Your fingers were in his curls again, and you gave a gentle tug. 

His tongue-

You felt the inquisitive, flat press of it against your cunt and you gasped out, quickly tilting your face up so that you wouldn't see him if you accidentally opened your eyes. Wait, if he's not supposed to take off his helmet--

Your thoughts ground to a halt when he moaned from between your thighs, wedging his shoulder in to keep your legs apart. "Taste--t-taste so-" he mumbled, laving sloppily over your clit. "Good, fuck. Good." His fingers spread you wide, allowing him unrestricted access to your most intimate parts. You knew you ought to be embarrassed about being splayed open like this, but you couldn't seem to muster up the feeling over the sensations you were being gifted.

Din was clearly spurred on by your enthusiasm if his sounds were any indication, his already limited words dissolving into soft growls and rumbles as he ate you out. 

That wasn't exactly the correct term for what he was doing, really. He was devouring you, his nose clumsily bumping into your clit with every other motion, his hands trembling as he tried to keep you still under his ministrations. You thought it couldn't get any better, but then his tongue licked inside of you and you couldn't help the way your voice broke when you cried his name, one hand flying up to cover your mouth. Having your eyes closed did nothing but intensify the feeling of surrender, you were his prey and he was hungry.

The snarl that he let out in reply had you quivering, his tongue fucking your cunt almost lazily. He was teasing now, drawing it out. "Beg me." He slurred, smiling against you. "Beg."

"Please--oh f-fuck, please, please-" you whimpered, almost in tears when he backed away.

"Please…?" He trailed off and you abruptly understood what he was waiting for.

"Please, Din, p-please make me come." You begged pitifully, your hips twitching as they sought out his mouth. 

"One more time?" He implored, groaning after you fisted your hands in his shaggy curls again.

"Please, Din, please let me come, p-please, please--" Your voice cracked when he hitched your leg up over his shoulder and buried his face in your cunt. He locked his hot, wet mouth around your clit, rubbing his tongue down on it in a focused attack that had your knees buckling, chest heaving, nails digging into his scalp and-

Your Mandalorian, Din Djarin, was not a man who did anything by halves.

You fell apart, soaking his tongue with your orgasm as you sobbed out his name again and again. He moaned hungrily, the noise sending vibrations through your sensitive sex and making you shudder while he continued to move his mouth, continued to gently lick at your cunt and lap up your come. 

"Are you alright?" He asked cautiously once he finally took pity on you and let you catch your breath. 

"'Am I alright', like you didn't just take my soul out of my body with your tongue." You panted.

"Yeah?" There was a smile in his voice. "Alright." With a quiet grunt, he got to his feet. "Wasn't sure if I'd be any good at it, but-" You cupped his jaw, delving your tongue into his mouth to catch a taste of yourself. He choked a little, obviously startled when you bit down on his lower lip and tugged it gently. "You...more?" He queried, sounding hopeful. 

"Yes, absolutely yes." You answered breathlessly. He hesitated for a second, his arm brushing your shoulder on its way by. 

"There. Turn around and open your eyes."

You did so, stumbling a little on your still-unsteady legs. When you blinked your eyes open you realized that he had opened the tiny mirrored cabinet over the sink, effectively rendering the reflective surface harmless. You wanted to feel disappointed, but you knew that he would do it in his own time, on his own terms.

His hands roamed up your body, unraveling the binding that you had to support your breasts. They fell into his palms and he exhaled harshly in your ear, the heated air making you shiver all over as he pressed himself to your back. He toyed with your breasts inquisitively, squeezing them and teasing your nipples with his calloused fingers until you were writhing back against him, wordless pleas making their way out of your throat. "What? I didn't catch that." He murmured in your ear, roughly sinking his teeth into the shell of it and making you keen loudly. "Something you want?" 

"Din-" you protested, leaning a little further forward in obvious invitation. He fell silent and the head of his cock rubbed against your pussy, coating the shaft with your slick. Agonizingly slow, he pressed in until his tip was inside you.

"Hah, f-uck, you're…" His forehead hit the space between your shoulder blades and stayed there as you squirmed, trying to push back onto him. "Mmfuck, I have t-to be...y' tight, cyar'ika, breathe-" 

"Sorry--" you whimpered, startled when he nipped at your shoulder.

"Don't f-fucking apologize, don't y' dare--" Din stammered indignantly, "gripping me like a f-f-ucking vice, don't want to hurt you." His hands smoothed down over your hips and he clumsily repositioned you, arching your back a bit more to open you up. 

You exhaled and you heard him grunt in what sounded like relief. He then penetrated you fully in one long, smooth thrust, the mass of him punching the rest of the breath out of your lungs and leaving you grasping blindly at the sink for something to anchor yourself. His cock was so thick, you felt like it was searing your insides and branding you as his forever. 

Your Mandalorian.

You shakily pushed yourself up and wrapped your arm around his neck to support your body as he began to stroke into you against the sink, your eyes sliding closed before you could glimpse him in your periphery. 

His lips pressed to your cheek and one hand groped over your stomach until his palm ground down on your pubic mound, sending stars across your vision and making you whine out his name. You tilted your head back down to stare dazedly at his arms around you, watching the way his musculature coiled and bunched with every thrust. Maker, he was strong. 

Din kept your back pinned tightly to his chest, giving you his cock without mercy as he rambled disjointedly in your ear about how much he had missed you, about how much he craved you, how much he needed you-

"I-I love--" His voice faltered, then he gritted his teeth. "I l-love you, y--you know that, r-right?" Din blurted out desperately. 

"I--" the breath caught in your throat, due in no small part to the man currently fucking you into sweet oblivion. "-love you." You managed to say, closing your eyes and knocking the side of your head into his. 

He made a pained noise, one hand reaching forward. "Open--open your eyes. P-Please, please open 'em." He begged. 

"Are you-"

"Fuck, fuck fuc-k-k I need it pl-ease," Din cried, his voice rasping and then cracking. "Need you to see, need you to see, need it need it need it--"

The sound of his breathless, sobbing entreaty was more than enough to convince you to oblige him, and so (eventually) your eyes fluttered open.

It took a minute, but you managed to focus on the now-closed cabinet in front of you. The mirrored surface revealed the man that you had saved, the man who had, in turn, saved you. 

He had his eyes downcast, no doubt transfixed by the sight of his cock splitting you open again and again. His hair was shaggy; brown, a few grays peppered in here and there. Heavy, furrowed brow, square jawline, full lips currently pressed together in a concentrated grimace. Several fresh-looking scrapes and bruises littered his face. His nose was a little crooked, like it had been broken several times, but that wasn't surprising. Mandalorian helmets, for all their protection, did sport incredibly flat fronts.

Your Mandalorian, Din Djarin, was devastatingly attractive even beneath the armor.

"Hey," You breathed and he jerked his head up, dark, dark brown eyes meeting your own for the first time. You were abruptly breathless, and not simply because his cock felt like it was making itself at home in your chest cavity. You curled your fingers weakly on the nape of his neck, the motion almost a wave. "You could have w-warned me that the helmet was for my protection, not yours."

He tilted his head to the side, illustrating his confusion even without the helmet to mask his expression. His hips pressed to your rear almost idly, rutting his cock as deeply in you as it could possibly reach.

"Didn't expect you to be so h-andsome." You gasped, a guttural cry leaving your lips when he shifted his weight to drag his cock back out of you.

His smile was incredibly shy, an awkward little tilt of his lips before he buried his face against your shoulder blade again. Maker, was he...was he blushing? 

You had made a Mandalorian blush. While he was pounding you into the next cycle, no less. You could feel the temperature difference of his face and you giggled, your breath hitching.

"Don't--don't laugh at m-me, dammit." He grunted. "Not while...I'm f-fucking you like this--"

"Not--at you," you panted. "I j-just love you, that's all."

He choked on his next breath and his tempo stuttered, that thick cock throbbing inside you. "Who do y-you love?" He whispered, his hands fondling your breasts.

"Din Djarin." You replied quickly, arching your back a little more.

"Ah--a-and I love--I love you." He groaned. "So...so much." He slid his hand down again, spreading your cunt open so he could play with your clit. You could hear how wet you were, and it filled you with a delight that was borderline shameful. "Come on me. Want you t-to...f-ucking soak me, soak my cock, c'mon." He demanded hotly in your ear, making brief eye contact with you in the mirror. His look was smoldering, burying itself in the hungry tension that teemed in your groin. "I can feel you, fucking squeezing me every t-time I talk, so come, come on me--"

Your clit was unbearably sensitive from your earlier orgasm, every motion of his body sending shockwaves through you. You squirmed and writhed but he had you trapped, safe and secure and begging you to submit to the pleasure he wanted to give you. It was almost too much to bear; you felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes when you finally succumbed with a primal growl.

Din didn't stop, though. He fucked you through your orgasm, fucked you into the blinding delight of overstimulation and pressed the heel of his palm down onto your pubic mound once more. You could feel his cock twitching, could feel how tense his thighs had gotten, Maker you could feel everything and it was a blissful torture. Thoroughly strung out, all senses ablaze, you begged him to come.

"I want to, I want to, gedet'ye I w-want to so fucking badly, I want--" Din chanted. Without any ceremony, he thrust his fingers into your mouth and pressed down on your tongue, urging you to extend it and lick his fingers. You obliged almost automatically and he dragged his now wet fingertips down your chest to roll and tweak your nipples hard.

You clenched down on him without conscious input, your pussy in spasm around his cock as the cool air combined with his rough little tugs to rouse and torment your breasts. You sobbed out his name again and again, pleading for relief and praying it never came all at once.

He met your eyes in the mirror, pupils blown wide and his mouth just barely open, and-- "Oh, fuck." He choked. "I love you." And then he came, wrapping an arm around your midsection to keep you firmly planted in the shuddering cradle of his thighs. He bucked into you over and over and you knew you were dead weight but you couldn't bring yourself to move, moaning helplessly in his trembling grip. "Ner, mine." He grunted. 

"Mmhm." You breathed, too beyond words to function at this point in time. 

He let out a breathless chuckle, threading his fingers through your hair. "You're mesh'la, beautiful. My beautiful little mudhorn." He sighed.

"Again...with that name." You replied haltingly, the air slowly returning to your lungs. He slung both of his arms around your waist, holding you tight to his chest once more. You were bewildered by your body's reaction, aftershocks hitting hard enough to make your legs shake. "Couple of things that come to mind when I think of a mudhorn." You continued after a few deep, deep breaths. "Beautiful and little are definitely not among them. I tend to think big, and dangerous. So you know. You."

"I remember the first time I thought of you like that." He murmured in your ear. "You had just killed seven raiders. I came into the hut and you were ready to kill me too."

"Oh...oh." You trailed off, flushing slightly. "I-I wouldn't have, you know I wouldn't."

"Mm, I'm not so sure." He exhaled into your ear, making you squeak. "It was intense. I...I'm pretty sure that was it for me. Fought for so long, y'know, but it was useless. You took my heart with that look, cyar'ika."

"You really...I mean, you thought about me like that?" You asked shyly. And it was an insane thing to be shy about, considering the fact that his cock was still inside you. "You mentioned some things the last time we...uh, got involved, but I assumed you were just saying stuff to get me excited."

"I don't know how to talk like that." He answered you bluntly.

"That's a lie." You retorted. "You told me you fucked your hand thinking about me!"

"Mmmultiple times." He drawled the 'm' out in a self-satisfied manner, kissing down the side of your neck.

"That's not you just trying to say something...y'know, to get me worked up?" 

"I said it because it's true." He muttered, "should I...should I not say things like that?"

"No, no, you definitely should!" You backtracked quickly. "It's just...it's nice to know that you were thinking about me even before I was...well, masturbation material. It's nice that you saw me, I guess I should say."

"I always saw you." He breathed, his fingers sliding up the side of your neck to tilt your head so he could kiss your cheek. "Saw you play with the younglings. Saw how you took care of the kid. Saw how you protected him. Saw how you took care of me."

Your flush was a raging inferno at this point.

"I don't remember a lot about the...whole situation with Ran's group. Xi'an's poison threw me off my track pretty good. But I remember…" Those brown eyes half-lidded as he collected his thoughts. "Remember you singing to me."

"You asked me to." You whispered. 

"I don't mind that memory. Out of all the ones that I have, it's one of the few that isn't shit." Din mused, adding, "today's nice too, don't get me wrong. No deadly neuro-toxins to take the edge off either." He wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder and swaying you gently back and forth as you watched him in the mirror. Stars, you were still a little tongue-tied at how handsome he was. "I need you to promise me something, stowaway." 

"What is it?"

"Don't you e-ever try to fucking die on me again." His voice cracked, "okay?" He dropped his forehead against your shoulder. "Please."

"Din…" You said softly, stroking your fingers through his hair.

"Just...just promise me that." He choked out. "If you get hurt, fucking tell me. If something happens, if…shit, if something goes wrong, please--please, don't hide from me. I'm sorry f-for...I'm sorry that I...I fucked everything up. I'm so sorry. All I've been able to think about is how much you m-must hate me. You were almost killed because you were pulling my stupid, stupid ass out of the fire."

"Hey, hey. You literally told me to stay out of Guild business. You can't blame yourself for my inability to follow your instructions." You protested, nudging your head against his. "I'm an adult and I take full responsibility for my own stupidity when it comes to you, okay?"

One large hand trailed down to skim the scar from the blaster wound and he huffed, sniffling quietly. He pulled your hips back more firmly into the seat of his pelvis, shifting his weight a little. "All heart and no fucking armor to defend it." He managed to say.

"You've got more than enough for the both of us." You replied gently. Then, you whimpered as he palmed over your breasts again, his fingers tugging your nipples mercilessly. "How are you still-"

"Missed you." He rasped, his words husky with longing and unshed tears. "You're so warm. Sensitive. I love...I love you. Don't want to stop touching you."

"Din--" Your voice broke as he rolled his hips, his cock hilted in you deliciously.

"Mm, one more? Maybe?" He begged.

"I don't know if my legs are going to last that long." You confessed. "Or the rest of me, to be honest."

"If it's too much for you, I'll stop." He breathed in your ear. "Can tell me to stop and I'll stop."

"I don't want you to stop, but I'm just-"

"'But' means you need me to stop." Din interjected softly. "I'll stop." 

"Wait, wait, it's just that--I'm-!" Your orgasm struck without warning as he attempted to withdraw, the drag of his cock over your spot making your vision briefly white out from the overload. You shuddered and writhed, the pleasure nearly to the point of pain as your inner walls clutched at his cock. You couldn't help the way your nails raked into his arm, clawing for purchase.

You vaguely heard him moan, "oh, f-fuck--" the words nothing but a gravelly rumble. He struggled to keep pulling out, rambling about how tight you were like he couldn't even help it. "Easy, easy cyar'ika--relax, relax relax. You grip me so--f-ucking-"

"Sorry, sorry-" you sobbed, your words catching in your throat as you felt the head of his cock finally leave your cunt with a lewd, wet sound. It was like a breath of relief and anguish all at once; you were too sensitive to handle more but you had missed him so much-

He tipped your chin back with one hand, kissing your forehead clumsily as he dragged his other hand over the inside of your thighs. "Mm, shh, no apologies. Gonna' come." He slurred through gritted teeth. "Right here, just l-like this, using your come to fuck my hand. You ready? Ready for my come?" 

Your words failed you at his declaration and all you could do was nod, drowsily meeting his gaze in the mirror. His breath hitched again, like he was startled. It was wildly endearing to know you had that sort of effect on him. "Love you." You whispered, propping yourself up with your elbows on the sink to enjoy the show.

"Hnn, f-fuck, fuck-" he panted, "that's not fair. With the eyes too? N-Not--not fair, you can't do that."

You just smiled sweetly, arched your back and he lost it. His release hit the small of your back and you listened to him gasp and grunt his way through his orgasm with an exhausted tremor of delight. He came for what seemed like an eternity to you (and him as well, if his voice dissolving into a broken, raspy growl had anything to say about it). 

"You make the nicest sounds." You complimented him once he seemed to be able to breathe again. 

"Wh...What?" Din croaked after clearing his throat several times. 

"Your voice. It's nice. I like it."

"Um…huh." His fingers absently smeared the come on the small of your back. He appeared to be at a loss for words. "I should...uh. Get a...something. Gotta' clean. Don't move. I...yeah, don't move." He said finally, awkwardly clearing his throat again and avoiding your eyes in the mirror.

"Helmet back on?" You suggested. He froze, looking a little guilty. "Hey, no. It's part of your life. It's who you are. Don't ever worry about putting it back on, okay?"

"I'm sorry." He mumbled. 

You swatted his leg. "What did I just say? Listen to me when I talk!" You chided. 

"I know, I just-"

"Nope! Nope. You're more comfortable with it on, right? You're used to it. That's how your world is and that's fine." You assured him. "I'm a new addition. That's only if you want to keep me around, of course."

"Don't you dare say something like that." He grumbled, obviously bashful. "'Course I want you around. I'm not letting you out of my fucking sight for at least a week."

"Is that...possessiveness I detect in your tone, Djarin?" You asked in mock surprise. "I didn't think you had it in you!"

He scoffed, shaking his head and then walking through the bay to pick his helmet up from its forlorn place next to the loading ramp. "More like soul-crushing anxiety over your wellbeing, but that too I guess." He grunted after donning his familiar headgear. He padded back over to the fresher, reaching into the shower and scooping up a washcloth.

The water was cold and you yelped, making him flinch. "Fuck, what, a-are you alright?" Din stammered, palms cupping your hips gingerly.

"Could have used warm water." You squeaked, wriggling a little in an effort to shake off the chill. 

He breathed a sigh. "Maker, don't...don't fucking scare me like that." He muttered, obligingly running the cloth under the hot water tap. "I thought I hurt you."

"No no, it was just cold. Sorry." You apologized, feeling a little sheepish. The cloth was barely lukewarm when he laid it back on your skin, but it was absolutely better than it had been the first time. 

His motions were clumsily tender, like he wasn't used to being careful. When he moved lower to run the cloth over the inside of your thighs, he slowed to rub circles on your still-trembling muscles. "Maker, I...you're shaking." 

"Yeah, you kind of gave me a workout." You teased, turning your head to smile at him over your shoulder. "Also, I think I'm still supposed to be taking it easy. According to that nurse, anyway."

"You're what." 

"Supposed to...uh, you know what? Never mind." You tried to brush it off, but he rose to his full height and wrapped his arms back around you.

"If you're supposed to be taking it easy," he growled in your ear, modulated voice sending that familiar tremor through your body, "I shouldn't have just railed you against the fucking sink."

"Hey, I needed that. You did too. Don't act like you didn't, Djarin." You stuck out your tongue, blowing a raspberry at him. 

Din shook his head, tapping the helmet against your temple. "I wouldn't have made you stand. Would have...would have laid you down or something." He eased your full weight against his chest. "Are you sore?"

"Not really. A little achy and stiff, but that's okay." He hummed disapprovingly in his throat, tugging you back a step from the sink. You flung your arm around his neck, clinging to him as your legs tried to dump you on the ground. "Not hurt!" You insisted when you heard his breath hitch. "I promise. Just well-fucked."

"Still. You can barely stand. We need to lay you down." He murmured, smoothing his palm over the top of your head. "You want the bunk?"

"No, we can't both fit in there." You tightened your hold on him without meaning to. Don't go. 

"I don't want you to be on the floor if you're hurt." He protested.

"I don't want to be alone." You hated how your voice cracked. "Please, Din. Not right now."

"Oh. Oh. Alright, I...alright. I didn't mean...I just didn't want you to--the floor isn't comfortable." Din fumbled to say, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. 

"I lived with it before, I can definitely manage it now." 

The jaw contour of his helmet gently pressed to your cheek like a kiss. "Okay. Give me...I'll get some more blankets together or something. You stay still." He ordered sternly, patting your hip. "Stay."

Your laugh was a little shaky. "I'm not the kid, y'know." 

Din grumbled something under his breath, sounding exasperated.

…

You had no idea that he even possessed this many blankets. You blinked down at the pile, certain you recognized a few blue ones from your stay on Sorgan. 

"Something most people don't know about Mandalorians is that we build nests." Din informed you, his voice utterly deadpan.

"You are...a liar." You sputtered, giggling when he nuzzled his helmet into the crook of your neck. You had taken a quick shower while he was distracted by his nest building, so your skin was still warm and a little damp. His beskar squeaked slightly at the moisture.

"I could be lying, yes. But I might also be telling the truth." He reasoned, tugging you down to settle on the floor. 

"This is the Way, right?" You teased, cupping the sides of his helmet. He stilled and your smile slipped a notch as you remembered the way you had thrown the phrase in his face, how heartbroken he had sounded when he begged you to wait. 

Hesitantly, his hands raised to cover your own. "This is the Way." He intoned quietly, pressing his forehead against yours before continuing, "With you. I'm never leaving you behind. Ever again." 

"My Mandalorian." You whispered, relief making your eyes slide closed. "Thank you, Din."

He breathed, "Thank you for loving me," his tone unbearably soft even through the modulator. "Thank...thank you for saving me, my little mudhorn."

Your chuckle was a bit more watery than you would have liked. "That pet name is going to take some getting used to." You stroked the sides of his helmet. "Luckily, I'll have plenty of time to do so." You proceeded to press your thumb to his sternum, drawing it downwards. He did the same to you and you could feel the affection he had for you radiating through the delicacy of his touch when he softly tapped his fingers to your lips. "I promise." You whispered, your own fingers making a dull ringing sound on his beskar helmet. 

He just...stared down at you for several long moments. Long enough for you to half-lid your eyes again, lashes sweeping down as you focused your gaze self-consciously on his knees.

Slowly, slowly, his hand extended, and you could see it shaking ever so slightly in your peripheral for a second. "I share my name with you." Din slid his index finger down your jaw. "I share my face with you." He trailed his hand across your visage from temple to chin, his fingertips barely grazing your skin. "I share my body with you." He cupped his palm tenderly over the top of your left breast (no doubt feeling the way that your chest heaved excitedly under his touch). "I share...I share my heart with you." He murmured, threading his fingers through your own and raising them to his chin. "This is a riduurok bond. An oath that I swear to you. It's...it's very important." His sentence dissolved into a bit of a mumble, but you still heard him when he stammered, "s'a marital...l-love bond."

"Oh." You replied dumbly, before erupting with, "oh! Oh, you're--oh wow, stars, okay. What...uh, what do I have to say in return? To say yes?!" You rushed to ask, certain your eyes had gone glassy with tears.

"If...um, if you accept, y-you just...repeat what I said, and the gestures." Din seemed flustered by your enthusiastic reply, his hand trembling in your grip. "You...you really-?"

You tapped your index finger to the apex of his jaw contour and he fell silent. There was no possible way he could feel your touch through the armor, and yet you were still incredibly careful. "I share my name with you, Din." You breathed, your finger gliding over the beskar without so much as a sound. You then gently, so gently, rested your palm on the flat front of his visor. "I share my face with you, Din." 

"Maker, yes." He sighed, knocking his forehead roughly into your palm before you swept it down over his face like he had done for you. 

Your fingers splayed above his left pectoral, digging in a bit more than you needed to. "I share my body with you, Din." He shifted restlessly under your touch and you could feel your cheeks ache with how hard you were smiling as you took his hand in your own. Turning it over, you scrutinized his bruised knuckles with a soft noise of distress. Then, you raised his fingers to your lips and kissed every bruise, every battered knuckle, every scar that crisscrossed his olive skin.

"Please," Din begged brokenly, his voice nothing but a breathy groan. "P-Please."

You obliged him without hesitation, tapping your joined fingers against your chin with an air of solemn finality as you stated, "I share my heart with you, Din."

From his spot on his knees facing you, Din all but fell forward, cradling the back of your head with one hand as he pressed you down into the soft cocoon of blankets with his weight. "You precious...mesh'la...stars, you mean so fucking much to me." He gritted out, his voice almost pained while he framed your hips with his thighs. "So much, so much I don't know enough Basic for it. You are fucking healing, mirjahaal, you are rain, pitat, you are soft, pel, you are fucking stunning, kandosii'la, you a-are--you are dral, ner cabur, ner haal, you are...haar'chak, osi'kyr, I always lose my words." He growled in frustration, resting his forehead against your own. "My mouth can't even try to whisper what my heart screams. M'not used to talking so much." He admitted, sounding defeated.

"I hear you anyway." You assured him softly. Din raised his head, leveling that visor with your eyes. 

"How?" He asked desperately.

"I hear you when you speak with your hands. I hear you when you speak with your concern. I hear you...I h-hear you when you speak with your body." Your breath hitched and your eyes closed as he rolled that body against your own in one long, sensual grind. "I don't need you to talk if you can't. I hear you just fine, I promise." You managed to finish, even with his deliciously-distracting form stretched languidly over you.

"Then," Din hesitated. His hand sought out the scar on your side yet again, fingers caressing the marked skin. "I…I love you." He mumbled.

"I know, Din." You smiled warmly up at him. "I love you too." He ducked his head against your shoulder, like he was trying to hide his face despite already wearing a helmet. "Don't be shy!"

"I'm not shy, I-I'm…" 

"You're not used to this. It's new. That's okay." You cupped the back of his helmet. "I'll be here to help you figure it out. The kid and I." 

"You are my aliit, my clan. I'll...I'll keep you two safe, I promise. K'oyacyi." He choked out, his hand trembling when he drew the circle on your chest and rubbed his knuckles gently in the center. "My armor for you and the kid. My whole body. Anything you need." 

You slipped your legs out from beneath his thighs and opened them a little wider, letting him relax down into the sheltered harbor of your embrace. "Shh," you soothed, running your palms up and down his tense back. "Everything is fine. All we need is you. We're safe. You're safe with me. You can rest, sweetheart."

Din sighed, digging his hands into the blankets beneath your back. "Safe." He slurred. "Can't lay on y' though. Too heavy...lemme'..." He clumsily grappled with your body, somehow managing to roll the two of you over without accidentally braining you with his helmet. "Better." He grunted, threading his fingers through your hair and resting your head on his chest. "Should...put my suit back on."

"Five minutes." You bargained, stroking down the line of his visor. "Would you like me to sing for you?"

"...mmhm." He agreed through a yawn, his head drooping when he nodded. "Five...f-ive…"

You smiled as you listened to him struggle against sleep to try and talk to you, his breathing finally evening out after a few more minutes of incoherent mumbling. You pressed a careful kiss to his forehead and then snuggled down against his chest. "Stars fading, but I linger on dear...still craving your kiss. I'm longing to linger 'til dawn dear, just saying this…" You half-whispered, your words petering out as you too succumbed to the allure of slumber.

The future was uncertain but, if only for this brief moment in time, the two of you found solace in the other's presence.

Stay safe, sweetheart. K'oyacyi, cyar'ika.