#as someone who has shipped a lot of slow burn ships over time

[head-empty-just-ace]

MDNI: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

This was originally meant to just be a singular post on Ace and the Monster Trio having dog ears and a tail along with dog-like tendencies, but it started to become very...long. So, I will now be giving each one their own post! Ofc, we start off with Ace. Were you expecting anything else from me?

Portgas D. Ace x AFAB!Reader

CW: Sexual content (mentions of oral, penetration, and overstimulation), established relationship, and sensory overload/overwhelmed

Word Count: 700+

The ship was docked on an island for a while. Just meant for a quick supply run since it was running low and the next island was much further ahead. You're now tasked to go around the town to procure the items needed with them. However, you stumble across a certain shop. One thing led to another and now— your company has drunken a certain potion that made dog ears and a fluffy tail appear on them!

Of course, the shop owner clarifies that it's only temporary and that it'll fade off in a month or so. He also mentioned something about dog-like tendencies??

SFW

Extreme mood swings. Hyper-active, territorial, playful, clingy— you name it.

He will be running around on the deck one second then growling at someone who comes close to his food or you. If you scold him, he'll immediately sulk (even if you did it because he was making a mess on the deck for chasing after a bird).

Uses training and sparring sessions to burn off excess energy. It helps a lot. Plus, he adores the enhanced senses and reflexes during fights as an advantage. Will definitely brag about it.

Will sleep gods know where on the ship. He'll take a nap by the crates on the deck. Maybe even curl up in your bed if you guys have separate rooms.

Lucky for you, he doesn't snore loudly anymore! He just howls at the moon.

Did I mention clingy? He'll follow your scent, wrap his arms around your waist, and bury his face into the curve of your neck. Shamelessly inhaling your scent and mumbling how good you smell.

His hat bothers his ears so you're now in charge to keep it safe for him most of the time (totally not because it reminds him that you're his and that you look hot in it).

Whenever his senses get overwhelmed from all the noises, scents, and sights on the ship— he'll drag you somewhere more quiet and private. His arms wrapped around your waist as he pulls you close. Will bury his face against your chest to hear your heartbeat to help him relax.

Oh, does he melt when you scratch his ears and pet him. A shit eating grin on his face while his tail wags excitedly behind him. He accidentally barked when you started praising him too.

You jokingly threw a ball to watch his reaction. He chased after it and gave it back to you with his tail wagging excitedly before snapping out of it and sulking at you (just bribe him with kisses and food)

That tail? Sensitive. Extremely so. Do with that what you will.

NSFW

Did the shop owner tell you about him possibly going into heat? No? Well, he's now dragging you to his quarters with a slightly feral look on his face.

Door's locked. Your back against the wall. He's pressing kisses all over your face, asking—begging for permission. That if you're not comfortable with it, he'll stop.

You said yes? He'll pay for the clothes he tore off you (he growled at the sight of you in front of him and you found it unsurprisingly hot).

Will eat you out like it's the only thing keeping him alive. Slurs out praises while making a mess out of your sweet pussy. He'll literally moan and whine louder than you. All the while, his tail swishes contentedly behind him.

That tail. You started playing with it? While his cock was deep inside your throat? He's losing it. Whines loud enough the whole ship knows what's going on. Immediately cums inside your mouth.

He tried being sweet and keep a slow and relaxed pace. But when you were crying out that you wanted it rough— he wouldn't even think of denying you what you asked for.

Don't expect you're walking the day— or week after. That headboard is bound to at least crack. His stamina is already insane on a regular basis. What did you expect with him in heat?

Hickeys and bite marks all over. If you left some on him, he adores it. Eyes closed shut while he's pounding into you.

Will bend you every which way he sees fit. But he loves it most when he can see your face. Taking pride in the fact that he's the one making you look so well-fucked and needy.

By the end of it, both of you are overstimulated messes. You're a blabbering and crying mess while he's still fucking you with his head buried against your neck bc 'he can't stop himself when you just feel too good'.

He'll pass out immediately right after he cums for the last time. But will shower you with every bit of love and affection you deserve come morning. Massages, favorite snacks, praises, kisses— the whole package.

~~~~~

If you liked this and wanna read more, here's my masterlist!

[lahulotteshitpost]

***Sorry this started out as a rant***

The idea that you only reciprocate someone's love if you can be open about your feelings or date them is honestly insulting.

I find it especially mature from the Doctor to admit she can't date Yaz, knowing it will break her heart.

In LOTSD, you can clearly see the pain on their faces (both of them), but it's the kindest thing the Doctor could have done. Their relationship would have been unhealthy. We know this because we've seen the Doctor losing herself and being a terrible friend to Yaz.

And the Doctor knows that, she knows her mental state won't allow her to actually be in a relationship. She knows the relationship would be toxic, she knows she's been a terrible friend, she even admitted it in Flux but admitting it didn't fix her.

I've lived longer, seen more, loved more, and lost more.

- It Takes You Away

Yaz, I'm sorry. I didn't let you in to what I was doing... what I was looking for. I shouldn't have shut you out.

- The Vanquishers

But the point is, if it was going to be anyone, it'd be you. But I can't. Because at some point time always runs out.

- Legend of the Sea Devils

Not because I don't want to, because I might. But if I do fix myself to somebody I know, sooner or later, it'll hurt.

- Legend of the Sea Devils

The Doctor is very clear:

- she's not been a good friend,

- she loves Yaz,

- she wishes she could date her.

Being in love, even when it's reciprocal, doesn't always end in a relationship. Sometimes, even "trying" is impossible.

They can't be together, because the Doctor can't bring herself to do that. She's been desperately trying to avoid feelings and attachments since she fell into that Sheffield train. Of course, it doesn't work, and of course it's not a healthy coping mechanism, but this is something people go through.

Yaz understands. And I will argue that Yaz got to confess her love to the Doctor in LOTSD, they both expressed their feelings indirectly.

My nani says, courage is knowing something will hurt and doing it anyway. Mind you, she also said it's the definition of stupidity.

- Legend of the Sea Devils

This is Yaz telling the Doctor "I love you, I wish you could get over your fears, but I understand.

(And there is a lot to say about consent, as, clearly, understanding despite the pain is also the healthier reaction. You cannot force someone into a relationship, Yaz has often been mistreated by the Doctor but in this very moment, she is not a victim.)

There's a reason why she adds that bit about "stupidity" and it's not just to make the Doctor laugh.

Their romance is a slow burn with no happy ending. It's incredibly bittersweet, but it's also very real.

Mentally ill people who avoid relationships are often ashamed of it, we don't openly talk about it because it's definitely not "normal". You can be traumatised, depressed, anxious, but you're still in a happy romantic and sexual relationship, obviously.

Except when you can't.

I started shipping Thasmin during Series 12, initially believing it to be unrequited. I never expected it to be more than subtext, in a way it subverted a lot of my expectations.

I'm no different from most shippers, I was hoping for a kiss (every Doctor had one!) although I expected it to be disappointingly non romantic (à la Nine/Rose).

A kiss, the ultimate romantic trope!

Doctor Who didn't give me what I was hoping for.

It gave me something that I desperately needed.

Home.

Representation.

When you are one of those fucked up queer people, afraid of people knowing deep down you can't date, avoiding feelings and relationships because this is how your traumas shaped you, do you really get to see yourself?

Thasmin isn't every queer person, it isn't even every sapphic you will ever meet, but no story is. And their queerness isn't the cause of their doomed love, which I find extremely respectful and far from usual tropes.

I can see myself in them, at different stages of my life. I know some aro/ace spec people see their relationship as very queerplatonic and also felt represented.

Maybe you don't, and that's fine. You don't have to see yourself in them, you don't have to like this story.

Just understand other queer people will.

[utilitycaster]

what are those 5 things? 👀

Seeing people start admit that maybe Imogen and Laudna did in fact pressure Fearne excessively hard to take the shard. I think it's good Fearne took it in the end, but yeah they really made it difficult for her to express her doubts and that was shitty of them. I got extensive hate for saying that at the time from people who are literally saying the same thing now. It's very funny.

The (entirely valid) complaints I've seen that people care more about imo/dna as a ship than Laudna as a character and are making her book solely about the fact that Imogen will show up in it. I pointed out this exact same problem occurring while Laudna was dead, almost two years ago.

Caleb considering leaving the Nein means they aren't really bonded. Imogen considering leaving Bells Hells means she's so perfect and caring and selfless and noble and good. Anyway yeah sure I definitely believe that if Imogen were a man played by Liam everyone would definitely be totally uncritical and love everything she did. (This is also a layered one, given how Twitter has been bashing Orym nonstop for over a year).

I know it's been a month and I've said this repeatedly so this is a bit tacky but I'm still riding the absolute Irony High of people being like "STOP TALKING ABOUT HUBRIS STOP TALKING ABOUT HUBRIS anyway of COURSE Bells Hells would NEVER see the gods as a messed up family, just like them" and then jump cut to Laudna literally saying that. It's just genuinely so funny that people mad at everyone calling Aeor full of hubris proceeded to get their wax wings straight up vaporized at the top of episode 102.

People calling imo/dna the bestest most organic most slow-burn sapphic ship ever (it's not even the longest slow-burn f/f ship on Critical Role; even if you're stupid enough to count the two years we know virtually nothing about just for the purposes of padding out the time to eliminate Beauyasha on a technicality - nevermind that slowburn is about the length of the story itself and not the length of time the characters have known each other, since it's obvious that if someone said 'here's Jane and Kate, they've known each other for 300 years, now they are kissing' this would not be a satisfying slowburn unless like, you went back and filled in the 300 years - Kimallura STILL wins) but as someone who received a decent amount of harassment for saying it wasn't very interesting and as such kept tabs on the people engaging in that harassment...they've been dropping like flies. If it's the best sapphic ship ever and it's canon and you're in the top 5 ships for the show of all time on ao3 and Delilah's gone and they're going to get their cottage, funny how a good chunk of the shippers haven't even managed to stay interested in CR. Also why are half the people who HAVE kept up like hmmmm what if I threw Fearne or Ashton in there. Like believe me, I support a poly hells situation, but uh. quite a tumble for what people used to call the Beating Heart Of The Campaign (TM).

Bonus! This is below a cut because it has spoilers for next week's Re-Slayer's Take that's only out for Beacon subscribers but

we see Devexian, and he meets Frog (an aeormaton PC) and his overall statement on Aeor is "it created us to serve, and we fought for our autonomy. It was both a beautiful and terrible place. Anyway the past is past, what's important is that we as aeormatons take our chance to live now, and my personal goal is not just to bring back as many aeormatons as I can, but learn how to make more aeormatons." He is completely uninterested, at least in 839 PD, in any sort of action against the gods. Like, I think he regrets the fall of Aeor because a lot of Aeormatons and knowledge died in it but he literally is like "your life is defined by your own choices, not your designation at the time of Aeor." The actual survivors of the fall of Aeor are like anyway, we want acceptance, autonomy, and the means to control our own production in modern day Exandria. Ludinus whomst.

[octopus-punching-union]

Subaru Kagami headcanons

(some spoilers for Hotarubi chapter)

kind of a foodie

Has never thought of himself like that and would deny it if you ever pointed it out

"But of course I spend hours thinking about what snacks and tea my friends would like. It's just part of being a gracious host"

He doesn't really cook, though. If he tried, he could follow a recipe competently, but he would never serve a guest anything less than perfect. And cooking just for himself is a lot of effort and he's not very good at doing nice things for himself. (He has just hot water for breakfast??! Not even tea or coffee??)

He remembers his friends' favorites and makes sure he always has something they like on hand

(don't think about him being alone after the Clash and trying to figure out what to do with his stash of Zenji's favorite things)

On a lighter note. He was checking out Sho's food truck the instant it appeared on campus — he totally went to the mystery diner exactly once when it first opened. Like, even before Ren got hired, when it was just the anomalies working there. It was extremely awkward (he had so many questions and the anomalies can't talk), but he was polite and has never gone back. He doesn't even like to walk past the diner anymore because he feels so awkward about it.

sensory issues

Since he picks up residual memories from just about everything he touches, Subaru is very intentional about everything he buys — especially clothes that are touching his skin all day

Given all the issues with working conditions in the production of clothing, he has a hard time buying clothes and needs to touch everything. There are probably a few students in Hotarubi who are really passionate about sewing, knitting, or other textile crafts, and he goes to them whenever possible.

He puts so much work into helping you pick out a yukata for the summer festivals. He's anxious about taking up too much of your time, so he'll go beforehand so that he can take his time touching everything. He wants it to be perfect and to suit you in every way.

childhood / "rebellion"

Gifted kid burnout x 1000. Subaru has been working since he was four years old and his family is a big deal — he's been in the public eye since he was very young and always had to be on his best behavior because someone was always watching. (No wonder he has anxiety...)

So like, a lot of people who had a strict upbringing kinda go off the rails as soon as they get a little bit of freedom. But to (formal, reserved, self-conscious) Subaru, "subversive" means things like: 1) being a normal student at a normal school (not actually normal at all), 2) lying about the true nature of his stigma so that he won't be ostracized by his peers, and 3) advocating, through the proper channels, for his werewolf bff to be released from prison.

He feels like he's in his rebellious phase right now though, and that's what matters. Plenty of ordinary things feel thrilling just because he was never allowed to do them. Just being around people his own age is exciting! He's never had friends before.

(Ever since he was little, school always took backseat to his kabuki career. Now he's at the top of his class! He's so good at rebelling, guys 🥲)

He is (very slowly) learning to relax and be less formal. Zenji's death really affected him, and he doesn't seem totally comfortable around Haku. I'm really hoping Sho will help him to feel more confident and free!Lyca will cause problems and help him loosen up a little.

I really want him to go on a motorcycle ride with Sho at some point. I ship it think it would be cute. He would over-apologize for being nervous and clingy and Sho wouldn't even clock it as a big deal.

as your boyfriend

No matter what you do, your relationship will be a really slow burn. He's hesitant, afraid of doing something wrong, and genuinely doesn't understand why you would want him. You'll have to be the one pursuing him. (But, if you're patient, your relationship completely changes as he becomes more comfortable and confident.)

He loathes his stigma. It means you'll never have privacy from him, and at first he thinks you haven't considered the extent of it. Of course you'll change your mind, he thinks, once you realize it's constant and unending. He thinks of his affection and desire as an imposition that you'll find offputting, at best.

(Besides, there are plenty of people who would be better suited to being your partner, he thinks. Haku is so relaxed and has no problem joking around with you. Zenji is passionate and unafraid to express his admiration for you. In comparison, Subaru feels quiet and awkward and unable to talk about how he truly feels.)

He can't control what he sees with his stigma. It's frequently innocuous, but when he sees something painful or heavy, he feels that he's betraying you. Because you didn't choose to entrust him with those memories.

So when he accidentally sees something heavier, he'll share one of his secrets in return. He wants you to feel safe being vulnerable with him in this way.

(but sometimes, when you're asleep next to him and he's feeling particularly anxious or insecure, he might touch you hoping to see any reassurance that you're happy with him. He trusts you, he really does, but what if he's not good enough? What if you're only pretending to be happy to spare his feelings? He always feels like shit afterwards.)

Because of all this, he's really uncomfortable with physical affection at first. He feels a lot of guilt for wanting to be closer and wanting to touch you, and he worries that you'll think he's creepy or trying to dig through your past. His affection is sporadic, as he spends a lot of time worrying and mentally preparing.

Also, like. He sends a two paragraph text message full of pre-emptive apologies just to ask you to get lunch. He's going to be that stressed about all of your firsts.

Before asking you to be intimate for the first time, he'll wait until he's so pent up that he can't stand it, then he'll feel really awkward about asking. Because what if you don't want him? What if he's pressuring you just by asking? It's ok if you don't want to, he assures you, and he's so relieved when you say yes.

Not at all a fan of PDA. He'll sit closer to you when you're hanging out with the other ghouls. He might hold your hand if he thinks no one's paying attention. I think he would be clingy when really drunk, but then upon sobering up would be so embarrassed if anyone else witnessed it. (Haku would like gently tease him about it and he would be dying inside.)

He expresses his affection more often with food and gifts — nothing extravagant, just little things to show that he's thinking of you. He wants to spend a lot of time with you, even if he seems distant. Some of his more formal mannerisms with always be there, not because he's uncomfortable or trying to distance himself, but as a way of showing how much he respects and cares for you.

Over time, you become someone he can relax with, someone he feels secure around. He'll always hesitate for a moment before touching you, giving you a chance to move away, but he doesn't feel the crushing guilt anymore.

(he still doesn't eat breakfast, but it's because he would rather stay in bed with you in the quiet of the early morning. It helps him calm and center himself before getting up for the day.)

He wants a peaceful life with you, unremarkable except for the love that you share.

[avocadorablepirate]

What Do We Call This? - 07

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Pairing: Trafalgar Law x fem!reader

Summary: On a quest to find what you've been looking for, you acquire the help of the Straw Hat pirates, who've agreed to let you temporarily join them. There are however many challenges that come along with your temporary recruitment - an alliance with a certain Trafalgar Law being one of them.

Word Count: 1.2K

Warnings: fluff, angst, kinda slow burn, swearing, the occasional OP spoiler, they're both kinda mean to each other in this one

A/N: I don't know whether this series has a great flow, and honestly I don't know how well I've portrayed Law's character, but that's okay cause I'm very happy with how this chapter turned out <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>. I hope you like it too!

—⁠☆✿☆—⁠

Having boarded Law's ship you trail behind him into the submarine, leaving his crew and the Straw Hats on the deck. While you mindlessly followed him, you took note of the stark difference between the Polar Tang and the Thousand Sunny. Although it seemed a lot more cold, the grey metal walls of the submarine also offered a sense of security in their own way, the faint beeping noises oddly comforting.

Shifting your focus from the walls back to the man walking in front, you called out to him when you realised he hadn't noticed you following, or at least hadn't bothered to acknowledge your presence. On hearing his name Law slowly turned to face you.

"So what did you need my assistance with?" you ask, tilting your head in curiosity. From the time you had spent with him, you knew that when it came to planning, Law was always two steps ahead of the rest. So maybe his plan required you to be in Wano, or maybe he required your assistance with something on his submarine.

"You'd only hurt yourself more if you went with Straw Hat-ya to retrieve Black-Leg. It's better for you this way."

Or maybe not.

"Really? So, that whole needing my assistance thing was a lie?" His lack of a response was enough of an answer.

"I can take care of myself Law. I don't need you constantly watching over me like I'm some child," you assert, ready to storm off before your frustration escalates. But before you can retreat, an all too familiar blue aura envelopes you. "Law-" you try to protest to his actions but your words fall on deaf ears.

"Room."

"Shambles."

The room shifts to what looks like the infirmary of the Polar Tang, and you find yourself already seated on the white matress of a surgical bed as Law shuts the door to the room. Before you can inquire about his intentions, he answers your unspoken question.

"You haven't changed your bandages since we left Dressrosa," he remarks, pulling out a gauze wrap from a drawer and positioning himself in front of you.

"I changed them yesterday," you counter, but this only leads him to roll his eyes, "Clearly, you didn't do a good job of it," he chides, gesturing at the gauze that had been haphazardly wrapped around your torso. In your defense, you were in a bit of a hurry. Robin had found some books in Zou that she thought you would like, and you were all too eager to read them (plus, lingering in the infirmary for too long risked someone seeing your wounds)

"They don't need to be changed. I'm fine. It's all healed." You once again try to convince him, but you're met with a stern look this time. "Just because filling yourself up with alcohol and sleeping every chance you get numbs the pain, does not mean you're healed."

You're caught off guard by Law's reply. Though you think to yourself that maybe you should have known that someone like the Surgeon of Death, who knew how your devil fruit worked would notice that your consumption of alcohol and constant need to sleep were clear signs of you trying to distract yourself from the pain. Evidently, you had no memory of what you had said to him a few nights ago.

"Law-" you once again try to protest, but he's already removing the bandages, and you wince as his hand lightly grazes your side. He looks at you confused, your wounds shouldn't hurt just from this, he thinks to himself, and quickly but gently removes the rest of the gauze. His expression changes from one of confusion to frustration as he looks from the fresh blue-black bruises spattered across your torso to you.

"How did this happen?" he asks, and you shift in your seat, biting down on your lip as you contemplate telling him or not.

"How did this happen?" he spits through gritted teeth, and you shift your gaze away from him, at the same time realising that he wouldn't relent until you gave him an explanation.

"Some of the Minks were still injured before we left Zou, and Chopper wasn't around, so I helped them."

You notice his fists clench and unclench in response to your answer, a sign that he was trying to control his emotions. You choose to slowly meet his gaze as he takes a deep breath before letting out a sigh, already anticipating your response to his next question, "Why didn't you call me?"

"You were meeting your crew after so long, I didn't want to bother you."

He tries to remain calm, but your answer only fuels his frustration. His fists clench once again and he bangs them into the table causing you to flinch. Law's hands now enclose you on either side, his head bent down, so that his hat just about covers the way he's clenching his jaw.

"Why are you always finding ways to hurt yourself?" he murmers, his voice barely above a whisper. But he doesn't give you a chance to repond, "Do you care so little about your life?"

"It's just a few bruises," you respond, and this time he meets your gaze, his grey eyes laden with emotion.

"I don't understand," Law pauses, his anger mounting. "Why!? Why do you not care about your own well-being!? Why do you insist on helping people who've never done shit for you!?"

His words strike a nerve, and you scoff. You can only assume that he's referring to the Straw Hats. Your own emotions are starting to get the best of you, and you throw him a glare of your own, "What the fuck do you know!?" you yell back. Law's taken aback by your outburst, but is quick to regain his 'composure'. However, you don't give him time to respond.

"You know absolutely nothing about me Law, and you have no fucking idea what I've been through and what these people have done for me! So stop trying to protect me!" You grab at the gauze wrap and try to push him aside, but he doesn't budge. His hands grip tightly at the white sheets of the surgical bed, but he doesn't say anything.

"Move Law," you command, but his grip only strengthens, his knuckles turning white.

"I know enough about you to know that you knew Cora-san, and that's enough of a reason for me to protect you."

Law's jaw relaxes, but he remains silent and unmoving, reverting to his stoic demeanour as he waits for some sort of reaction from you, or maybe deliberates over what to say next. You're taken by surprise at first, not knowing how to react to his revelation. But the emotions are quick to come back, and your frustration with him that has been unknowingly brewing over the past month refuses to back down from this confrontation.

"Then you know that he wanted both of us to keep living. Yet you were ready to give your life in exchange for bringing down Doflamingo. So, don't fucking come to me about not caring about mine," you retort with more spite than you intend, your words almost like venom to Law. But you're far too infuriated to take them back. With one final shove you manage to push past him.

"(Y/N)-ya," he calls out to you, attempting to sound firm, but the tremble in his voice is unmistakable.

"I think it's best if we keep our distance," you mumble more to yourself as you walk out the door, leaving Law behind.

_______________________________________________

A/N: This was actually supposed to be longer, but I decided not to include the next part cause it would kinda downplay this part and just lose the drama. So y'all are going to have to wait till next week for them to maybe make up :⁠-⁠P.

taglist: @trafalgardaria @deathsmajestysworld

[bettyfrommars]

I'm on Fire

biker!Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Part 3

🚨18+Only, biker!Eddie, tow truck driver!Eddie, adult themes, mentions of smut, angst, mutual pining, slow burn, cheating (not on reader), alcohol consumption, flirting, mention of biker!Steve Harrington, 90's music & nostalgia, mention of a loved one with cancer, self-deprecation, eventual smut. Reader and Eddie are late 20's-early 30's

Word count: 5k

Series Masterlist

🔸Reader and Eddie are pining for each other in secret, and reader takes bold initiative to bring Eddie a gift. The two of you keep crossing paths as this crush intensifies and complications arise.

A/N: Always look forward to hearing from you all, what you thought, or what you'd like to see happen 👀

-----------

Steve called a day or two after the initial meetup, but Katie was headed to a conference out of the state, so they didn’t make any immediate plans. The conversation started in the living room where she first picked up the phone; she made a wild hand gesture, arm pivoting from side to side at the elbow, mouthing his name to you so that you would know who it was, and then she switched to the phone in her bedroom. They talked for over an hour, and he told her he’d check back in when she was back from her trip.

“Okay, so Steve thinks that Eddie has a little crush on you,” Katie told you when she came back out to give you the recap. “He said you might have to make the first move, though.”

Your heart fluttered, but you tried to play it cool. You looked up from your magazine. “Please tell me you didn’t spend the entire time talking about me?”

“Oh, of course not,” Katie shrugged. “Only a half hour or so.”

“If I were Eddie, I’d be pissed if my friend spilled the beans like that,” you said with a tilt of your head.

“I told Steve I wouldn’t tell you he said that,” she countered.

“Well, that makes it better.”

“Steve is a really…” Katie hesitated, trying to find the right descriptive as she plopped back down on the couch. “...intelligent, charming guy. I don’t know, maybe I’ll go out with him when I get back. If he asks like a gentleman.”

“Maybe?”

“Probably.”

----------

The next week came and went. You were busy, so you didn’t have much of a chance to think about the possibility that Eddie might have a crush on you.

No, that was a lie: you thought about it a lot. The bad part was, this whole feeling a chemical pull towards him was a distraction that you didn’t need in your life, and it made you do creepy, irrational things, like driving by Munson’s Garage one day after work just to see if you could get a glimpse of him.

The good part was, it had you feverishly painting until after midnight a few days in a row. You were feeling inspired for the first time in months, and even if you still had to be at work at 9am looking like death warmed over, it was worth it.

On Thursday afternoon, you were at the gallery preparing a huge piece of art to be shipped out of the country when you heard it: the unmistakable purring growl of a chopper gunning down your street. You let the corner of the box fall to the ground with a heavy thud, eliciting a horrific yowl from your assistant who had been helping you wrap it up meticulously for the past hour, and sprang to the window like a little girl at the distant tinkle of Santa’s bells.

There were three of them atop their menacing leather and chrome beasts, but they were already disappearing around a corner at the other end of the street by the time you got there. The next thing you knew, you were out on the sidewalk with your hand up to block the sun, squinting, trying to see if one of them had long, dark hair. The high pitched whine of a car alarm shrilled in the distance, and a woman pushing a baby stroller had to go around, eyeballing you with disdain as she went.

---------

Meanwhile, Eddie was seeing you in the face of every woman he met, and simultaneously looking forward to the day when that was not the case. He didn’t have the energy to pine over someone, let alone have issues performing in bed because the woman wasn’t you. Having sex with other women was starting to feel like cheating, and that was an icky, embarrassing truth that he would never confess to one of his buddies.

“Oh? You can’t stop thinking about her when you fuck other women? Damn, that pussy must be tight.”

You were basically a figment of his imagination, and he was having these really gross daydreams about just….holding your hand and shit like that. Not cool, not bad ass. Jerking off to a porn or the idea of some nameless, faceless mouth on his cock was fine, but doing it to the idea of tasting your cum while his mouth was between your legs made him want to lobotomize himself with Jack Daniels.

This was dangerous, bitch-boy territory, and he honestly couldn’t say he’d navigated it in almost a decade. Maybe he’d been hanging out with Steve “Loverboy” Harrington for too long, listening to him get all goo-goo ga-ga over some new chick every other week. But also, he envied him; Steve didn’t just sip the juice when it was good, he let himself drown in it, over and over again.

Eddie shrugged it off and acted like he didn’t care the day Steve told him that he talked to your roommate, but then he came back around a few hours later and asked him if he was planning to meet up with her again. “You should call her friend,” Steve told you. “She digs you, Katie told me.” Katie told him no such thing, as she had a very strict girl code, but Steve couldn’t help himself.

So yeah, Eddie drove by your work on Thursday. Innocent enough, but the part of town where you worked was very high-end, and nowhere near the place him and the boys were headed, but nevertheless, he gave the signal and they followed. One of his buddies ran with the Coffin Kings---a bearded monster they called Tank----and he got a kick out of rumbling his hog close to the expensive cars parked along the street to shake the foundation and make their alarms go off.

He didn’t even turn his head to see through the glass storefront and check if you were inside, that wasn’t the point: he just wanted to be in your orbit, to drive down a street that you parked on every day.

Holy shit, Munson, why don’t you just put your tap shoes on and break into song about it?

--------

On Friday, you left work early, announcing that you had a very important appointment, and then you went and sat in your car around the corner from Munson’s Garage for a half hour. It took you way too long to work up the courage, listening to an album by the band Hole, specifically the song Violet. A gang of bikers rolled up to the stop sign across from you, and you did a comical job of sliding down in your seat so they wouldn’t see you.

Once they were gone, you looked down at what you had in your lap; a gift wrapped up in brown butcher paper and tied with jute string. “This is so stupid,” you told yourself, putting your car in gear to drive away, but then you flipped it into park again with a pensive groan.

After a dramatic pause, cursing as you went, you circled the block one more time and then entered via the open gate at the side entrance. The main garage and supposed clubhouse for the Coffin Kings---the spot where you had dropped the boys off the week before---was to your left, but ahead of you was another garage, and the wide expanse of a junkyard full of wrecked cars behind a fence. Your eyes landed on the black tow truck that Eddie drove, giving you hope that you hadn’t missed him. A row of motorcycles were lined up in the middle of the pavement, and then to the right there were angled parking spots under an awning, and that is where you went.

Your stomach bleated its discontent when you saw that there were at least 10 or 12 guys in biker cuts hanging outside near the grill, flipping burgers in front of the main garage, blocking the entrance to where you would most likely find Eddie. They all had the Coffin Kings insignia placard on the back of their leather vests, and they were tossing back beers and taking shots. After you parked, you craned your neck to see if Eddie was one of them, but there were a few obscured by one of the pillars holding the roof up. Surely, he would’ve spotted your car as you inched along at an elderly crawl.

You took a minute to fix your hair and makeup in the visor mirror, practiced stretching your lips in a grimace smile a few times to make sure there was no lipstick on your teeth, and then made the leap.

-------

Eddie should’ve been down with the guys getting hammered, or having a game of pool in the club house after a long week, but no. He was on the second floor in his apartment, getting in some bench presses before he showered and continued on with his evening of laundry and trying to get to bed at a decent hour for once. He was listening to Slayer, but the widow was open and he could hear them all giving each other shit down below.

In between songs, at the end of a set, he heard a different type of ruckus going on outside and it made him sit up, sweat dripping into his eyes and down his neck. The guys were giving wolf whistles and saying something about “look at that fine piece of ass” and Eddie didn’t know why, but he felt like he needed to go down and investigate.

That was when he opened the door and saw you making your way across the parking lot. You were carrying something flat and square in your hands and you looked like you were cautiously assessing the scene, like maybe you should return to the safety of your car, and he didn’t blame you.

“Cool it, fuckers,” Eddie told the guys as he pushed by some of them to go out and head over to meet you. But he could still hear them saying things to each other under their breath, whispering about you, and how good you looked.

He didn’t want you to be there, in that moment. Not because he didn’t want to see you, but because he didn’t want the other guys to think you were just some whore he was fucking, or worse yet---he didn’t want any of them to think that they could fuck you. He tried to walk toward you at the right angle so that you would be blocked from their view, inadvertently squaring his shoulders and asserting his dominance as he went.

-------

You had a feeling this was a bad idea, but you had no idea how bad until a dozen pairs of eyes were turning to stare at you, narrowing on you, and unabashedly so. You were too far away to hear what they were saying, and there was heavy metal music blaring from inside the building somewhere. You planted your feet, looking around, wondering what you would do if Eddie wasn’t there: hand over the cutsie little gift to one of his biker buddies? You didn’t want to embarrass him.

But then, the door opened and there he was, frowning at you like you were the last person on earth he wanted to see. It was more of a scowl, actually, eyebrows knitted together and upper lip rising in an abominable snarl. He said something to the rest of the guys, and a few of them seemed to snap back to reality, but he couldn’t wipe the pissed look off from his face as he made his way over to you with an air of reluctance.

He had on a white wife beater and jeans with his boots unlaced. The front of the tank was damp and his arm muscles were especially defined and swollen. You could see that he had some kind of huge, tattooed chest piece that came up to his clavicle and stretched over his shoulders. Various other ink decorated his arms; the one on his forearm being the most faded of them all. Your pussy fluttered at the sight of him, even though he looked like he was ready to put his hand around your throat. Or maybe because of it?

“What are you doing here?” He barked in a voice low enough so that only the two of you could hear it.

His attitude was not your favorite. “Well, hello to you too, grumpy.”

Now you wished you didn’t have the stupid gift in your hand. Couldn’t you have left it in the car and waited to see if he was here first? No, you had to bring it with you, and now it was too late, dummy.

Eddie glanced over his shoulder at the guys, jaw muscles flexing, and then he gestured for you to walk with him over to where your car was parked, under the awning, out of the overcast but bright sky.

He put a hand at your elbow and maneuvered you so that you were facing away from the riff raff, the view of your backside blocked by your car. There was a matte black Chevelle parked in the slot next to you, and he leaned back against it, crossing his arms at his chest.

“Sorry about that,” he told you. “We usually keep them locked up during the daytime.”

At his joke, your shoulders softened and you exhaled, flexing your fingers on the package. The movement caught his attention and his cocoa brown eyes shifted to the gift.

“You said to come by whenever, but I should’ve called,” you hadn’t planned out what you would say, but now you wished you had.

“No, no,” he assured you, crossing his feet at the ankles. “I promised you a spare tire. I haven’t forgotten.”

Truth, you had totally spaced that he said he’d give you a free tire, which was no small expense, but it was a much better reason than, “I made you something because I can’t stop thinking about you,” or “here’s a gift, now let’s kiss.”

“What’s that?” He asked the dreaded question, tilting his chin at the package and meeting your eyes down the end of his nose.

“Oh this?” You asked cheerily, feigning mock surprise, as if it slipped your mind that it was in your hand. “This is nothing. Just a thank you for...the tow and the tire. I made it, it’s no big deal.”

“You made it?” His voice flew to a higher octave than he was comfortable with at that revelation, and an invisible warm hand wrapped around his heart.

Scratching your eyebrow, you passed it to him. “You don’t have to open it here,” you added, hoping he wouldn’t.

He held it in both hands, strong fingers curling around the backside as his thumbs stroked the front of it to feel the texture of the paper. It had been a while since he’d received a thoughtful gift that wasn’t booze or scratch tickets or a Hickory Farms sausage and cheese platter.

Overall, he was speechless, but one thing that did come second nature to him was offering acts of service as a way of showing his appreciation. “Let me take this up to my place, and then I’ll get you that tire. Can you wait here? I’ll just be a second.”

He was already on the move, but you stopped him. “I can’t sorry, I have to go. Rain check?”

You put your hand on the crook of his elbow without thinking, to stop him, and then all you could think about was the heat of his skin, the way the hair on his forearm tickled your finger. His eyes went to your hold on him and his Adam’s apple jerked in a quick swallow.

You lowered your hand. “Maybe I’ll surprise you again one day,” you were blushing now and you moved your chin to your chest to try and hide it. This was feeling less and less like an interaction between two grown adults, and more like some high school crush that you giggled about to your friends and wrote little hearts around each others name in class.

Over your shoulder, Eddie could see that Wayne was coming that way with an invoice in his hand, probably to ask him a question about one of the pickups that day. He looked a bit pale and peaked, and even though Eddie begged him to take the day off work whenever he had chemo treatments, the old man refused to listen.

“Okay, so, I’ll see you around then,” Eddie heard it come out of his mouth and he wished he could take it back. The tone was off; he sounded like he didn’t care if he saw you again, but that was the furthest thing from the truth.

“Okay, bye,” and you were back behind the wheel of your car, panting, wishing you had a paper bag to hyperventilate into. In the rear view mirror, you watched an older man with gray hair meet up with Eddie. His clothes were baggy, as if he’d suddenly dropped a significant amount of weight. Eddie clapped his free hand on the older man’s shoulder and they walked back to the garage together at a slow pace, your gift in his hand swinging level with his wallet chain.

--------

After finishing up for Wayne and demanding that he go home to get some rest, Eddie was finally alone again in his apartment. The string you used to secure the package might as well have been steel bars with how tight it was tied, and so he reached over for the butterfly knife on his nightstand and popped it open with a few flicks of his wrist. He sawed the string with caution, careful not to puncture whatever was in it.

His heart was racing and his palms were a little sweaty, and for some reason, the rising of sweet emotions made him angry. Just settle down there, bucko, the voice in his head told him, she probably gives gifts to anyone who does anything remotely nice for her; this doesn’t make you special.

He touched the black painted edges first, realizing it was a canvas, and then the back side fell open to him first: To: Eddie, my hero, and then it was dated and had your name signed on the wood cradling.

Turning it over, he had no idea what to expect, but as his eyes took it in, a quivering sigh escaped his lips.

It was a piece of art depicting the sunset exploding from beyond the low hills in Hawkins; the view you see from the freeway from the exact spot where you had blown your tire, the spot where the two of you had met for the first time. It wasn’t just a standard scenery painting either; it was abstract and full of texture, with tiny bits of paper collage added in. Bright, bold colors, with tiny hand drawn details.

He took down his framed Dio poster so that he could hang your 12x12 painting across from his bed where he could see it from all angles of the room. He puffed his cheeks out and blew air from his lips to make a low whistling sound as he stood there admiring it, wishing he would’ve opened it in front of you, so that you would know how much he cherished it. You might never know how much a gift like this meant to him; it was immediately one of his prized possessions.

Absently, he crumpled the wrapping paper and string up in his hands, pounding it into a compact ball, so that he could make a jump shot for the trash can, and then made it in with a swoosh.

What he didn’t see crushed inside the ball was the square, pink piece of paper with a little note on it that said: “I know Steve has this number, but I also wanted you to have it. Call me sometime.” and then your phone number in cute, block digits.

-----------

Another week went by, and you had officially resigned yourself to the fact that you would, indeed, die alone. Putting yourself out there, even as infinitesimally as you had with Eddie, almost killed you. Getting excited every time the phone rang, hoping it was him, had you regretting the choice to ever make a move in the first place. Besides Katie, you were the only single person in your friend group, and that’s just how it would stay until Keifer Sutherland proposed.

Steve called Katie though, and even though she had the feeling he was a bit of a player, the idea of jumping on his cock had her chomping at the bit.

“Are you sure?” Katie asked as she dowsed herself with hairspray in the bathroom mirror, an L7 cassette in the tape player. You were just behind her in the hallway, and you leaned back to avoid the fumes. “I can hang out with Steve a different night, I don’t want you do go to Marysville alone.”

Marysville was a town down the road, not fifteen miles away, and there was a huge gallery opening in an old airplane hangar, and as the manager of Moon River Gallery, you were forced to attend.

“That’s sweet of you, but Jeff will be there.” You held your breath and waved your hand in front of your face. “But I’m counting on you to get laid for the both of us.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m going to let Steve know what a deadbeat his buddy Eddie is for not calling you to even thank you for that gorgeous painting.” Katie was using her protective mom voice.

“Please don’t,” you begged her. “He just didn’t want to see me again, and that’s fine. I don’t need someone to call me out of obligation. Really, don’t mention anything to Steve or I will turn to stone and crumble to pieces.”

Katie went into your bedroom instead of hers, and held up a certain shirt, asking if she could borrow it. “That’s actually yours,” you told her, waiting on the bed as she changed.

You were putting your arms into your jacket, just about to head out the door, when Katie came around the corner holding up flavored condoms and Magnums in each hand. “Do you want to take any of these with you? Plenty of cute guys in Marysville.”

“No, thank you,” you assured her politely, fixing your collar. “Besides, I’m sure Jeff will have a stockpile with him.”

But Katie threw one at you anyway, and you caught it with a slap to your chest. “Here, just take one of these Magnums, for prayer’s sake.”

----------

The airplane hanger gallery was situated near the lake, and it was an unarguably stunning venue full of massive artworks and expertly blown glass. You and Jeff arrived together, but went your separate ways initially, both stumbling upon friends from other galleries you knew, and you sipped some expensive champagne while you mingled. You were bent over, reading the details about one of the paintings, when two of the new people arriving caught your eye.

Fantastic, it was Eddie and Charlene.

Charlene looked like she was a movie star about to walk the red carpet and Eddie looked as good as ever. From the waist down was dressed like normal: jeans, boots, and wallet chain--but he always put a nice dark red or black shirt on for the events. Three buttons undone down the front to give a peak of that chest tattoo, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, a little earring dangling from one ear, and those chunky, silver rings on his hand. Obviously the two of them were a couple, regardless of the fact that she was married, and regardless of the fact that Eddie referred to himself as being single.

He escorted her in with his arm linked in hers, and you could tell he was about to fall back and head outside to wait, but then his eyes locked on you. You turned your back on him, guzzled your champagne, and then headed over to where you could get a big glass of wine, thirstier than you’ve ever been in your life. Jeff had volunteered to drive you both back, and you had just decided in that moment that you were going to let him.

You were a couple of swallows in when you felt the front of his warm body press up at your side, against your arm, hands in his pockets, and then he leaned his head down closer, wavy dark hair skimming your shoulder, to whisper in your ear. “Your art should be in a place like this.”

“Oh hiiiiii,” you turned, pretending to be shocked to see him. “What a nice surprise. How are you?”

He backed up a step to give you some room, not checking even once to see where Charlene was or if she cared where he was; his eyes were intent on you.

Jeff, was off to the side, flirting with one of the guys on the catering staff, when he glanced over to see who you were standing with, and his eyes bulged wide.

“You clean up good,” you told Eddie, getting intoxicated on how delicious he smelled. Almost two glasses of alcohol in, you were already getting ballsy, and you reached up to brush his hair back from his shoulder and straighten his collar. “You look like you could run for mayor.”

He glanced down at himself, and then met your gaze from under his lashes, full pink lips curving up on one side. “I was going for Colombian drug lord, but I guess I missed the mark.”

Okay, so he made you laugh and he was sexy. So what.

Someone you knew came up to hug you and say hello, and you expected Eddie to take advantage of the moment and make a getaway, but he stayed.

“Can I get you another one?” He asked, gesturing to your almost empty glass. Never mind that everyone was glancing over at him, asking themselves with shifting eyes who the hell let the scary biker dude in to mingle with the rich people. The irony of a bunch of art snobs recoiling at someone who brought something new and different to the table was not lost on you. Sure, he made them uncomfortable, but who would be the one to ask bad boy biker Eddie Munson to leave? Eddie could flick his lighter open and set one of the paintings on fire, and still no one would question him.

“Aren’t you here with someone?” You asked, glancing around for that big gold explosion of wealth that was Charlene.

“No,” Eddie said initially, but then. “Well, I drive for Charlene from time to time but we’re not...together, if that’s what you mean.”

Eddie could feel Charlene giving him the evil eye from across the room, but he didn’t care. He stopped having sex with her two weeks ago, but he wasn’t ready to give up the extra cash working as her personal escort service and hired muscle.

Staying sober for the night, he brought another glass of wine over to you, and then he started asking you questions about the artwork and the artists as the two of you walked.

“Isn’t that Charlene Gregson’s boy toy?” Manny, one of the caterers, asked Jeff as they watched the two of you flirt with each other.

Jeff nodded, a smile creeping across his face. “Oh, this is going to be juicy.”

There was a snap high on the back of your shirt, and you could feel that it had come loose, so you beckoned for Eddie to follow you to the walkway just beyond the paintings, into the shadows, so you could put your glass down on the cement base of one of the pillars.

“Could you...help me with this?” You turned your back to him and pulled your hair to the side. “Fasten this for me, please? I can’t reach it.”

Eddie licked his lips as he closed in behind you, enjoying the proximity of it, and moved his fingers to your neck, callouses from his fingers grazing your smooth skin, taking an audible, deep intake of breath as he caught a whiff of your shampoo. When he was done, his hand slid down your back, indulging himself, letting it land at the curve of your hip in a slow circle. “All good,” he said in a low whisper.

You spun around to face him with a crooked smile, the alcohol in full affect, and your eyes fell on a loose thread that had escaped and was resting on his crisp, dark red shirt, your eyes lingering on the black ink of the tattoo underneath.

You brought your hand up to pick the thread off, but then he caught your wrist, your palm sinking flat to his body, melting, right at the epicenter of his life blood; his heart racing. You shifted your gaze from his grip to meet his eyes, pupils dilated, and your breath caught in your chest; your fingers started stretching out and back against him in an alien form of physical communication.

His lips parted, gaze flicking to your mouth, holding your wrist with a grip that was firm but tender while his other hand rose to cup your face. Rough fingertips grazing your throat until they curled around the base of your head, metal rings clicking together, and then his thumb brushed across your jawline.

You bit your bottom lip softly, delirious need pulsing in your core.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Your voice was tiny, and his eyebrows knitted together, confused. You could see he was just about to say something, but then:

“Eddie,” the unmistakable voice of Charlene Gregson called to him from the other side of the gigantic painting you were both doing a poor job of hiding behind. “It’s time to go. Please pull the car around?"

She was looking directly at the two of you from only a few yards away, with her hands on her hips, but still he held your palm to his chest and searched your eyes, trying to understand. After a beat, he cleared his throat and said, “I’m sorry,” under his breath before turning on his heel to go and play chauffeur again, shoving one hand in his pocket to get the keys as he went.

Charlene stood there and stared at you for a bit longer, her eyes taking you in from head to foot, probably trying to understand what you had that she didn’t. But it must’ve occurred to her that she was the one he was going home with and not you, because then she flipped you a little sly smile and puffed a laugh out of her nose as she turned, shaking her head.

-------------

Part 4

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my lovelies who asked to be tagged: @hellv1ra, @tlclick73, @corrodedcoffincumslut, @ms1oftheboys

[hungergameshyperfixation]

I would say I’ve seen a lot of Everlark “learning how to love each other” stuff post-war. About how they’d have to go through the process of building intimacy again (not romantic/sexual intimacy, just being close in general)

And I know it’s been said before but imagine Haymitch learning “how to love” after the war. Regardless of who you ship him with, if you ship him with anyone at all, it would still be a process.

Of course everyone can have their own headcanons and aus, but just to put it out there….some things to think about….

Haymitch trying to put himself together, shower and dress a little bit nicer than normal. Maybe he pulls out some old suit from the Capitol, or maybe not…maybe he just chooses the only shirt and half-decent pants without stains.

Maybe he has some Capitol cologne, or maybe he has nothing. I imagine that in some AU, a much softer post-war Haymitch is using some of the natural herbs in district 12 to help freshen up his house. The smell of whiskey quieted by the smell of lavender (to help him sleep, possibly at the recommendation of Peeta or an Everdeen).

Haymitch being the slowest of slow burn characters. Years-long process to fully develop a relationship with the man 🙄 (/hj)

I like to think he’s pretty quiet, throughout the rest of his life. Maybe he can be pretty talkative in some situations, maybe if there’s a certain subject that gets him talking or a certain person he’s around.

But let’s just say he typically tries to keep his mouth shut (for a variety of possible reasons) and maybe ‘his person’ compliments that well.

If, for example, Effie is incredibly talkative, there’s one clear way they can contrast/compliment each other. He doesn’t mind listening to her talk on and on, and can engage in conversation with her in a comfortable enough way for him.

Or maybe he’s with someone who is pretty quiet. Maybe less talkative than he is. Someone who’s like him, who understands what the silence holds. And it holds so much. But maybe, one day, that silence will be peaceful and not a representation of numbed pain.

Anyway anyway.

Also wanted to throw out the idea of board games to pass the time in district 12, eating quiet meals, eventually watching over Everlark’s children. Uncomfortable conversations scattered throughout, watching the sunset. Anyway more post-war Haymitch Abernathy fanfics. Where he’s not fully broken but not living his best life. Slow-burn post-mockingjay Haymitch Abernathy fanfics when.

[sugdenlovesdingle]

So...when is Ryan Hawley rejoining Emmerdale? We need a Robron Reunion soon right? Seb is growing up without his Dads, Aaron is stuck in the village and Robert is stuck on the IoW! Of course, when Robert and Aaron come face to face, they will not see eye to eye. So, what would you prefer? A massive blow up like Chrissie and Robert causing havoc in the village or a slow burn like before the 2018 reunion - but obviously with a sane, Maxine written SL? If RWRB fans can manifest a sequel into reality, 911 Buddie fans have the Buckley-Diaz family within reach, we can dream about a Robron wedding in Las Vegas right? 😝😂

lol I don't think buddie fans are really the best example here.

but yes, he's done the guest parts on other shows, he's done voice over work, he's made two kids - time to go back!

Though Maxine isn't a writer on emmerdale anymore (something about rats and sinking ships) but since we're fully 🤡🤡🤡 here maybe she'll do a guest ep for a special occasion!

Like Aaron being shifty for weeks, secret phone calls and texts, snapping at Vinny when he tries to look at his screen. Telling him it's none of his business when he asks what he's hiding. And then one random tuesday he'll announce he's going away for a couple of days and no, he won't tell where to.

And then we get Aaron getting in his car and adjusting the mirrors For Reasons and we see he has one of those picture key chain thingies hanging from his rear-view mirror with their wedding pic with Seb in it and he drives away (this would actually work with the bts pic Danny posted where he's filming with/in Aaron's car!). And there's a few shots of him driving until he pulls up to a random house somewhere. He parks his car and gets out, walks up to the house and rings the doorbell, a person we don't know opens the door. "Hi Aaron. He's waiting for you."

Aaron goes in and we see a little boy watching tv and clutching a giraffe plushie, and a packed backpack next to him.

The person tries to get the kid's attention but he's focused on the tv and they sort of apologise to Aaron who just shrugs and sits down next to him.

"Hey mate, what are you watching?"

And the boy quickly looks at him and smiles and then starts telling him all about the thing he's watching.

And Aaron just lets him ramble and just has this *fond* look in his eyes the whole time.

*some other stuff happens, tom is still abusing belle, everyone is miserable*

When we come back to Aaron and the boy, the show he was watching has ended and he's sitting next to Aaron who has his arm around him.

"So are you ready to go home?"

the boy nods and we see a shot of the person who let Aaron in smiling at the two of them.

"Alright, lets go then. Go say bye."

The boy walks up to the person and says bye and they bend down to hug him.

"Bye Sebastian, it's been a pleasure having you here but I'm sure you'll be very happy back with your dads again."

*gasp* *shock* The boy is Seb!

They leave and we see Aaron strap Seb into a car seat and triple check all of the straps and buckles until he's satisfied and he gets behind the wheel and starts the car.

He tells Seb to wave at the person as they drive away and we see them round the corner and disappear from view.

Then there's some more shots of Aaron driving but it's notably a very different road/route than before and we see him maybe check google maps on his phone a lot, indicating that he doesn't know the road where they're going.

It's implied they've been on road a long time and they stop at a mcdonalds or something to get something to eat and Seb gets to play in the ballpit for a while.

Aaron is still on his phone A LOT and texting someone until his phone rings in his hand. He answers in typical Aaron style with a few one word answers and then hangs up, and tells Seb they have to go again.

When they get into the car he tells Seb it's only short drive now and we see them drive to a bus station and pull over.

Aaron smiles at something in front of them and gets out of the car, standing by the door, not quite believing his eyes.

"You took your time." someone out of view tells him and he laughs.

"Shut up and get over here you."

And we see him stepping away from the car, walking towards someone, and when the other person is within reach, he grabs a suit jacket and the camera focuses on his hands - fists balled into the fabric.

"I've missed you mister Dingle."

And the camera *FINALLY* pans up and we see Robert half smiling, half crying, pulling back a little to REALLY look at Aaron.

And he cups his face and wipes away a stray tear with his thumb.

"I missed you too mister Sugden"

*credits roll, the nation rejoices, all is right in the world again, robron are reunited*

[writingquestionsanswered]

i’m currently writing a story where the OC starts to develop a love interest with Person A, but longer the story runs the OC falls in love with Person B.

Set up is in a dystopian world

How do i write so the readers don’t fall to deep with Person A x OC relationship? or is better for the readers to pick side? How do i make the romance story/plot seamless for the transition of relationship?

A+B < A+C Love Triangle

The key to making a A+B < A+C love triangle work is to make sure you do two things simultaneously:

1 - Ramp Down (or End) the A+B Leg

Before A and C can really ramp up, you have to address what changed in the relationship with B that made the shift in interest and affection possible. This could be a slow roll, like growing apart or a gradual misalignment of beliefs/goals. Or, it could be a sudden split, like B dying, leaving, or the relationship falling apart.

2 - Ramp Up the A+C Leg

From the moment A and C first interact, you'll want to start slowly ramping up their interactions by building their friendship, deepening their bond, and increasing their romantic interest and romantic tension. (See: Guide: Characters Falling in Love, Guide: Writing a Slow Burn Romance, The Subtle Signs of Romantic Interest and Love, Transitioning Through Levels of Affection)

Key elements to pay attention to:

-- What barrier kept these two apart initially? If A met C after they were already involved with B, that's an instant barrier. But, if they met at the same time, what kept A from initially falling in love with C rather than B?

-- What changed and why? If A and B parting ways, or A and C falling in love is the result of someone or something changing, what changed and why did it change?

-- How do these relationships tie into arc and theme? Characters usually grow or change over the course of the story, usually as a direct result of the things they experience because of the events of the story. So, how does character growth/change affect the rise of A+C and the fall of A+B, and how is character growth/change affected by the rise of A+C and the fall of A+B? How do these relationships tie into the story's themes, and how do the themes affect the relationships and where they go?

Other things you can do to help readers get on board with A+C:

Although you can't guarantee all of your readers will jump the A+B ship in favor of the A+C ship, there are things you can do to encourage that choice.

#1 - Make sure A is their best, happiest self when they're with C. Which is not to say they should NEED C in order to be happy/their best self. They should be that on their own, too. This is simply to say that they should not be lesser version of themselves when they're with C. Because if they were bubbly, happy, and confident with B, but grumpy, tired, and often depressed with C, that's not going to win anyone over to the A+C leg of the triangle.

#2 - Choose either a conciliatory or villainous exit for B. While it's essential to make a good argument for A to be with C instead of B, you'll have better luck convincing the readers to bail on B if they can see that B is okay... that getting out of the relationship was good for them, too... or if they can see that B wasn't deserving of A's love in the first place.

#3 - Make sure C is a worthy recipient of A's affection. If B is a kind, smart, well adjusted person and caring/supportive of A, but C is kind of a dull-minded jerk who has a lot of problems and isn't very kind to or supportive of A, that's not going to win anyone to C's side.

#4 - Make sure you create better romantic chemistry between A and C. If A and B are together at the start of the story, you can start them off with flat or low fizz chemistry. That way, if you create better chemistry between A and C, the reader will root for that leg over the leg with less chemistry.

#5 - Create a better future for A with C than with B. "Better" is obviously subjective, depending on your story and characters, but ultimately you don't want the reader to think A would have a better future if they stayed with B versus ending up with C.

Bonus: this one might not apply depending on what you're writing, but I would say * most * of the time, you want to avoid having any sort of infidelity on A's behalf as things ramp up between them and C. Again, it depends on what you're writing... some spicier stories have intentional affair story lines. But again, most of the time you'd want to avoid that. Not only do you not want to make A and C look bad, but you don't want to sully their relationship with infidelity. It also swings sympathy over to B, which doesn't exactly make C more appealing.

Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[velvetydream]

꒰ :🥀 [ The dangers of Mavery - Welcome to Aurora ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Part 5 - The dangers of Mavery

Summary : You were finally setting foot on land again for a day, getting new clothes, but not everything goes as planned.

Pairing : Pirate! Hongjoong x Fem! Reader

Word count : 3.2K Words

Genre : Fluff, Romance, Slow Burn

Warnings ➵ Hongjoong kills someone,

attempted? SA, violence

a/n : Finally got around to write the next chapter! I'll try to write the next one this week too so I'll hopefully post a new chapter every week again!♡

《 Masterlist 》

┌───────────────────────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡

"We still weren't able to find any trace of her Sir." One of the guards reported back to the king. It had been over a week now with no trace of the kingdom's princess. "We searched all close on sea and land father, I think we have to move further, if she's on a ship too she could be who knows how far." His son spoke up, talking to the visibly distressed king.

His wife won't come out of the family chamber, simply opting for her embroidery frame, his son just got back from days out on the sea and his daughter could be dead for all he knows. Even the kingdom noticed the change and soon started questioning, everyone in the kingdom was in turmoil upon hearing the princess was missing.

"We have to find her, start searching further, contact our alliances to also help with the search, everyone that can shall help find the princess." The bags under his eyes were deep as the king spoke, his son and the guard nodding as they left the king alone in his misery. On top of this, his wife had declared how this was all his fault, wanting to marry his only daughter off to someone without even considering her feelings, since then she hasn't spoken a word with him nor has she slept in their shared chamber.

His eyes look out the big window, drops from the sky falling against it and running down, in the far distance thunder could be heard and lightning struck through the sky.

"You're getting better!" Yunhos voice sounded proud as you repelled the blow of his sword, trying to land a hit yourself now, up till now you had yet to land a hit on any of them while training, but you were at least getting better at fending off their hits and not getting hit every time. By now the training also used real swords, which were far more painful when hit. "Thanks!" You yell over to Yunho as you try to land a hit on him, the tall man is quick to step away as his sword clashes with yours. Off to the side Wooyoung and San were watching the training of you two, cheering you on to finally land a hit on Yunho to pay him back for all the wounds you got from him while training.

Off to the side leaning on the railing of the top deck, two other men were watching your training take place. "She's getting better don't you think Joong?" Looking over to the captain who was watching you intensely, studying every one of your steps and mistakes, noting them down in his head. "Yeah, she still is bad. She will need much more training." He turns to the steering wheel now to check that their course is still correct with his compass. "We'll dock at Mavery soon, make sure she gets some fitting clothes, go find Yuqi and Soyeon there, they should know best what to dress her in. Make sure she stays close to you and that she stays hidden, I don't need other dirty pirates knowing we have a princess on board." Walking past Seonghwa now, Hongjoong disappears into his quarter, closing the door. A sigh leaves the older man's lips as he goes back to watching you bicker with Wooyoung now.

You were slowly getting used to living on the sea, almost everyone did their best to help you get accustomed, Jongho and Hongjoong were still the ones hardest to understand and get to open up to you. But especially Wooyoung, San, and Seonghwa were a big help to you, explaining a lot to you and helping you find your place. Your work with Mingi was also rather nice, you were slowly allowed to do more than sort things, you were allowed to help with the maps and managing the logistics of the boat if you could call that. So far there luckily weren't any encounters with other ships, it was rather calm, you just heard San talk about how you would apparently dock somewhere soon to stock up. Which made you rather happy, finally being able to get off the boat for a while, maybe you could also help one of the boys and maybe get something for yourself.

"So this island where we'll dock have you been there before?" Looking over to Wooyoung now as you both enjoy a little lunch break sitting on one of the railings. "Oh, we've been there often! It's not as nice as you think, don't imagine something like your kingdoms.. It's an island completely ruled by pirates, some locals there were pirates back then and settled down there to make good money. It's pretty dangerous and brutal there, so maybe it's better if you stay here with Yunho and Jongho." Looking at Wooyoung now you shake your head, you didn't care, you wanted to finally set foot on land for at least a short while. While you enjoyed the boat, despite the size of it, it got small over time. "She'll have to join me on land, we'll finally get you some proper clothes there." Seonghwa came up to the two of you, smiling. "Really? Oh my, thank you!" You sprang up and rushed to Seonghwa for a hug, he, San, and Wooyoung were the only ones so far you got comfortable with to touch and be touched, probably stemming from Sans's cuddly personality. "We won't go alone though, Yunho will join us, and Mingi will stay back. We need someone who can protect you there, and as much as I want to say I can, I'm only good with guns, Yunho knows how to wield everything."

So the next day you finally docked at this island and you could already feel the dangerous air around you the moment your foot hit land. "Keep the hood up till we're there yeah?" Seonghwa mumbles to you as he guides you through the docks to the shops, there are many different ones. Mostly weapons, some for groceries and other utensils you needed on a ship. Some clothing shops as you approach a big building with red paint, the sign saying > NXDE < as you enter, it is warm. The whole shop was filled with women's clothes, many different ones at that too. "Hello? Soyeon? Yuqi?" Seonghwa shouts as a friendly-looking woman now approaches the two of you, Yunho stays outside to guard the door. "Seonghwa! Good to see you! You never come here since Jiwon.." The voice was soft as the woman gave Seonghwa a short hug to welcome him. "It's good to see you Miyeon, may I introduce Y/N to you, our newest crew member." Her eyes brighten upon seeing your face, but scowl when seeing the clothes you wear, hitting Seonghwa on the arm, scolding him for letting a pretty face run around in ugly clothes like that.

She quickly grabs your arm, pulling you further into the shop, and starts to ask questions, about your size, favorite colors, and preferred style. Seonghwa took a seat on one of the many chairs there. You didn't even have time to proceed that she had mentioned that name yet again. "These should fit you! Let's try them on!" She pushes you into a changing room. The clothes in your hand were a white dress, the bottom pinned up on two sides, off the shoulder and short sleeves, a red corset that sits on your waist, and some boots that reach to under your knee. Exiting the changing room again she claps her hands running around now to put a little headband on your head and a chocker, before showing you to Seonghwa. "Looks good, now we'll take ten outfits in that style, give her some pants too for colder days, also a coat and jacket, maybe some skirts." Seonghwa instructs Miyeon, as she tugs you to the back of the store showing you things to make sure you like what Seonghwa would buy. A shout from outside makes you look to where the door is, Miyeon assuring you that this is normal. That was until Seonghwa shouted for you to stay inside here till he was back, the front door slamming shut.

"Oh oh, the right hand of the pirate king is here too? What are you doing in a woman's store hm? Got a new little darling on your crew?" Seonghwa looks at the man annoyed, Yunho beside him had drawn his sword, holding it tightly in his hand, Seonghwas own hand on his revolver. "Why don't you continue on your way? Or do you not remember the last time we fought mh Jackson?" The other man's eyebrow twitches, the scar over his eyebrow still visible. "Shut your mouth." Seonghwa lets out a laugh at the empty threat. "I don't think your captain would enjoy you walking around here picking a fight for no reason, which you would lose." A bullet streaks Seonghwas ear, making his ear slightly hurt. This meant a fight, Seonghwa pulled his gun, firing at the man in front of him who quickly dodged as Yunho got jumped by Mark, he probably stayed in the shadows not wanting to engage with Jackson's annoying behavior, but now had to step up as a fight started to take place. The four men were soon drawn away from the store.

Looking out the door, Miyeon shakes her head at you, signaling you that Yunho and Seonghwa where not near. Makes you worry, what if something happened to them? Or did they finally grow tired of you and decide to abandon you here? "I'll be back!" Before Miyeon could even stop you, you were out of the door, walking through the dangerous streets. Many different people crossed your path, many had scars on their faces, missing limbs and one had a full white eye. Hugging yourself tightly from the anxiety you were feeling from being here alone, soon you also couldn't tell anymore where you were or how to get back.

It was slowly getting darker and darker too, your legs started to slightly, freeze slightly from how cold it was getting so quickly right now, and your arms hugging yourself for warmth and anxiety now. "Hey, little lady~ Did you get lost hmm?" A deep voice speaks from behind you, turning around you come face to face with a tall man, he has dark, dirty hair with streaks of gray, and his face is full of scars, a prominent one on his left eye. "N-No! I'm waiting for someone!" Turning around to quickly go, the man grabs your shoulder really hard, his nails digging into your bare shoulder, a small scream escaping your throat. None of the people around you cared, they didn't even give you one look. "Oh come on, we'll have lots of fun, I'll be nice to you~" Struggling now as you feel that dirty man's hand on your waist, the other still holding your shoulder as his hand moves from your waist to the front of you slowly and inching higher while he laughs at your struggling. "P-Please let go! Leave me alone!" Tears were rimming your eyes now as you struggles against the tall man's grip.

"How about you get your dirty hands off of my crewmate before I cut them off." Looking up now, the big coat and hat were sitting on his body nicely, his face pulled into a scowl as his hand hovered over the handle of his sword. "Oh? Your crewmate king? How funny, got yourself a new little lady for the boat mh?" Before you were even able to register anything, Hongjoong pulled the revolver from his garter, and the next second the man was gone from behind you, the hands that felt so wrong gone. "Don't look." Hongjoongs hand softly turned your head that was turning to look behind you, to look back at him. Tears flow down your cheeks as he starts to guide you away, shrugging off his coat to lay it over your shoulders. The warmth of his coat calms you down a little bit. "It's okay now, stop crying for fucks sake." Hongjoong came to a halt again, turning around to tug you into his side softly, his hand resting on your head now. "You're safe again, you don't need to be scared, if you stay with me you don't have to worry." This was the first time Hongjoong was nice to you. Sweet to you. "Now stop crying, it doesn't suit your face." His knuckle softly touches your cheek as he wipes away the tears running down your face, your hand softly grabbing onto his shirt now, head leaning on his shoulder.

The encounter exhausted you, closing your eyes just for a second, to calm down your body and mind again. Hongjoong looked at you and let out a sigh, moving you to stand before crouching down in front of you. "Get on, you're tired, I'll bring you back to the ship and search for Seonghwa and Yunho then." With some hesitation you climb onto his back, holding onto him with your arms as his hands grab your bare legs, just now noticing that you already had a new outfit. The way back to the ship was quick, Hongjoong let you down and handed you over to Mingi, telling him to make you some tea and stay with you till everyone came back, before leaving the ship again to look for Seonghwa and Yunho on the small town.

Hongjoongs coat still keeping you warm as Mingi starts to prepare some tea for you Jongho was on deck making sure no one decided to just show up here.

Heavy footsteps could barely be heard over the rucsus the other crew and his two crewmembers were causing, some people standing around, shouting loudly, making bets about who would win this fight. The shouting quieted down and people stepped aside now that Hongjoong was making his way through the masses, everyone scared of the man. "What do you think you're doing?" Hongjoong eyes Seonghwa and Yunho dangerously. Seonghwa had a bloody nose and was grabbing Mark by the collar, who had a red eye, that soon would turn blue, while Yunho had a busted lip and a cut on his eyebrow, while Jackson who stood opposite of him, was not in better shape. Seonghwa looks over to Hongjoong now, before letting the man he was grabbing go, walking over to his captain, Yunho doing the same. "I advise you to not pick a fight with my crew again, or else I won't let you go this easily. Tell Jaebum that I'm very displeased by this encounter, despite deciding on peace." Looking at the two men sharply, Hongjoong guides his two crewmembers back to the clothing store, visibly mad with both men.

Paying for the clothes quickly before making his way back to the ship, San and Wooyoung were back by now too, running around and putting everything they bought away.

"Now.. How dare you leave her alone on this island?! You said you'd keep an eye on her! Take over the responsibility! For fucks sake! Some wretch had his hands all over her when she was searching for you dumbasses and if it weren't for me she could've been dead." Hongjoong pulled the two men into his quarter now, pacing behind his big oak desk, before his sharp eyes met the two men. "We didn't think I'm sorry Hongjoong. I shouldn't have left her alone nor should've picked a fight." Seonghwa apologized, bowing deeply to his captain. Yunho offered him the same sincere apology. "From now on when we dock she'll stay with me, Mingi or Jongho. I can't trust you two for now." Moving his hand now, Seonghwa and Yunho left the room without another word.

Falling onto his chair, he throws his hat to the side now as his eyes are set on the ceiling. What a day. He should slowly regret having allowed you to stay here, yet he can't bring himself to do so. Hongjoong doesn't even know why himself, you weren't a good fighter, your cooking lacked everything, and the only thing you really could do was read, write, and draw the islands. Of course, that was helpful, but nothing Mingi couldn't do either. Looking up now as he heard a knock on the door. "Come in!" Thinking it was one of the boys, but sitting a bit more straight when his eyes meet yours. "Uhm.. Thank you for saving me today, it was mostly my fault, Seonghwa told me to stay at the shop till he came back but I.. I left and then that man came up to me.." Listening closely he should've assumed something like this already, Seonghwa normally wasn't one to be this reckless, yet he was still at fault for leaving you there in the first place. "It's fine, you won't be going with Seonghwa and Yunho for a while though, when we dock you'll stay with Jongho, Mingi, or myself. A lot of places we take a break at are dangerous, I don't want something worse to happen to you." It was the first time Hongjoong said anything like this to you, it made you happy and feel warm. Feeling finally welcomed on this ship.

"All right, I can accept that." You mumble, still standing by the door, Hongjoong lets out a sigh now. "I'm just glad you're okay now, despite still being unsure if my decision was right, you're still a crewmate and I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if something happened to you or the others as your captain." Nodding you were unsure what to say to him now. "You can go back to the other, eat something also.. that outfit suits you." Standing up now and turning to his book shelve his back turned to you, a quiet 'Thank you' escapes your lips before you exit the quarter and join Yeosang in the kitchen.

"I can patch them up Yeo, you can continue the dinner." Moving to the place Yeosang stood before, you grab the cotton swap drenched in alcohol and start to swipe it over Yunhos eyebrow and lip. "I'm sorry we didn't stay with you, it's our fault something happened to you." Shaking your head now as you lay the cotton swap away, taking the ointment and rubbing it onto the wounds softly. "It was my fault, Seonghwa told me to stay in the shop, I left, it's my fault, luckily nothing bad happened to me and I'm just glad you and Seonghwa are okay." Putting a bandaid over his eyebrow now. Yunho nods softly before resting his head against your stomach and moving his arms around your waist. "Still I'm sorry, I was the one coming along to protect you and I failed.." Your hand resting softly on his head now, running your fingers through his hair. "Please don't beat yourself up over it, it's fine Yuyu, really." Watching him look up again he nods softly, letting you go again as he stands up now. "Thanks for patching me up, I'll be up with the others." Watching him exit through the door, you turn to Yeosang now ready to help him with the dinner.

[girl4music]

The idea or take that romance isn’t as important as friendship when friendship can evolve into romance is an odd one for me and I think it’s because I don’t think romance can be a romance without a deep friendship.

I’m partial to the “love is friendship on fire” adage and fictional ships or couple romances or love stories that begin from friendship. I favour friends-to-lovers and slow burn platonic-to-romantic relationships in art/entertainment because the depth of the connection is not only depicted but also drawn out and developed.

You get the whole journey so there’s never any rush to get to one development to another. There’s no time-skipping. And there’s no push for something more to happen because what you see happening is part of why you want it to be something more. You appreciate all of it. Even the negatives like the fights and conflicts because that also helps to evolve the relationship into higher degrees of love and devotion than ever before if you’re able to get the whole journey of what you want.

And I think this is why I am fundamentally bored with romantic WLW ships of today in TV art/entertainment.

Because you don’t get the whole journey of the ship.

You don’t really get a love story.

You barely get a pamphlet. 😒

But shows like ‘Xena: Warrior Princess’ and ‘Wynonna Earp’ give you WLW ships where you get everything in the ships because the journey is the whole point to it.

And for me - that feels significantly more romantic than something that’s explicitly made to be romantic.

I’ve come to realize that that’s probably because they both begin as friends and that that never changes. All that happens is the friendship evolves into romance. And I feel like a lot of TV show WLW ships get it very wrong when they change the friendship side of things. That’s if it even starts as a friendship first. I am often surprised by how many WLW ships I’ve seen in TV art/entertainment that do not. That immediately go into romance. That’s usually just because those shows are just too damn short and linear and they have no time to show you the journey. Thank fuck for fanfic then because in fanfic you can rewrite the beginnings and endings and also explore all the detail in the middle.

What can I say? TV show storytelling just isn’t a good medium for WLW representation not because they don’t want to give you the whole journey… but because they’re prevented from being able to do so.

And I’ve had enough now. I’ve had enough of being made a side storyline or liner notes in a straight person’s show or being killed off or cancelled or tragically broken up and separated when it’s not.

I either want to be a main narrative or not there at all.

I don’t want to have to settle for a half-way state and position of existence just because I’m not male and not straight. I don’t want to have to just make do and I think anybody that believes that they should seriously need to watch something more “dated” where the censorship might be rampant throughout, but… least you still get to see the whole damn journey of what is. Least there is development for those characters and even a conclusion and closure to their relationships…

Least you actually get to see yourself be … someone.

And none of it has absolutely anything to do with your sexuality or gender identity in the way where you have to feel like you’re apologizing for it or sacrificing for it… but rather… this is what is happening and it’s fine.

People really think it’s contradictory that why I love Xena and Gabrielle so much is because their sexuality or the nature of their relationship is never made an issue. They see that as an erasure of who they are.

When no, that’s not it at all.

It’s just not all they are.

It’s not all they do.

There’s so much more about them that’s detailed instead over that and it still never takes away from it.

And that’s what you want. That’s the kind of format to a love story you want to be watching or reading about because it’s normal, it’s natural and it’s just how it is.

They’re lead female characters with many main narratives across the span of 6 whole ass seasons.

And oh yeah, they just happen to be queer and in love.

The journey of the relationship as a friendship is always put first and made the focus with Xena and Gabrielle but it’s always up to you what else they are. It’s just for me - the friendship is what IS so romantic. I can’t really separate one from the other because to me… the reason why they’re the greatest love story that I’ve ever seen in TV of all-time is because they begin as friends and they never neglect this aspect.

[millersdjarin]

I Only See Daylight

Chapter Seven

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader (AFAB)

Rating: E (eventually)

Chapter warnings/tags: injuries, stab wounds, mentions of paid sex, creepy guy but nothing creepy actually happens, protective!din, slow burn, bonding

Chapter Length: 7k

Previous Chapter | Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

notes: happy thursday, friends, i hope you enjoy! longer chapter this week, and the next one is longer still :D

luck of the draw only draws the unlucky; so i became the butt of the joke

This is the second time you’ve waited at the ship while Mando completes a mission. 

You have officially decided that you don’t like it. 

Caring about someone, as it turns out, comes with a lot of worry; especially when you know that he’s out there doing something dangerous, and you have no idea how you can help. You don’t even know who he’s after, where he’s going. He doesn’t come back with people or bodies, so you know it’s not regular bounties that he’s getting. All he tells you is that there are people who are after the kid, loose ends from whatever journey they’ve been on, and that he has to make sure they never become a problem. 

He doesn’t tell you why people are after the kid, but it’s not hard to put two and two together, knowing what he’s capable of. People probably want him for those magical healing abilities. 

And, besides, you don’t feel you can ask Mando for all the information. He’s done enough for you already. And you don’t know if you could handle having him reject you, so you just don’t ask. 

But you are an over-thinker. Always have been. So when he’s out on these missions, and you wait at the ship with Grogu, the horrifying images that your mind so helpfully conjures when he’s out for just a little too long plague you until your heart races and you almost descend into full blown panic. Two things stop you from going that far:

One, the kid. You have to make sure he feels safe. Mando is trusting you with him, and the weight of that trust isn’t lost on you.

Two, embarrassment. You’ve barely known the guy four weeks. It doesn’t make sense for you to be this invested. 

The sun will soon be setting on Coruscant. Mando said he’d be back before day’s end. To distract yourself, you sit in the cockpit with the kid, gazing out at the city in front of you. 

You always dreamed of seeing this place. It’s even busier than you could have ever imagined. In the daylight, it looks like trillions of little ants are whizzing through the sky in traffic lanes, and the buildings and streets are crawling with people, the walls all the same shade of light beige. It’s hectic, but pretty amazing to see. You’re grateful, though, to be safe in the ship. There are too many people out there. And if anywhere has people that will recognise you—it’s Coruscant. 

As the day turns to dusk, the kid falls asleep in your arms, and you sit in the pilot’s chair, willing Mando to appear through the crowds at the docks or the streets beyond. He’s easy to spot, even amongst this unique type of chaos. 

You find a new distraction: looking for lights as they turn on in each building. There are so many, and just when you think that there can’t be any more, another twinkle will appear in a tiny window or along a street edge. It’s turning into quite the pretty picture, all the lights zooming in the sky from people’s speeders, the tall buildings and the short blending together to make something enchanting. The people start to disappear in the darkness; from the comfortable quiet of the cockpit, you could let yourself imagine that there’s no chaos out there at all. 

You’re getting worried now, though. Your bottom lip is starting to hurt from chewing it. The kid is still fast asleep in your arms, which is probably a good thing, because you’re not sure you can hide your anxiety anymore. 

Mando said he’d be back hours ago. You don’t even know where he went. You couldn’t report him as missing even if you did. 

Kriff. Kriff, kriff, kriff.

What if he doesn’t come back? What if he’s dead, or been captured? What if you and the kid are stuck here forever, and are never going to see him again, the shiny beskar and his gloved hands; what if you never hear his voice again? One of his rare, lovely laughs? What if—

The hiss of the boarding ramp lowering has you shooting out of the chair so quickly that you’re surprised it doesn’t wake the kid. You rush through to the living quarters, manage to fumble down the ladder with Grogu in one arm, not having it in you to be embarrassed by how urgent you must look.

When your feet land on the deck, you turn around, and there he is. 

The door hisses shut behind him and you hear the click as it locks.

He’s leaning against the wall with all his weight. One hand is lifted to grasp at his ribs, and it takes your anxiety-ridden brain a minute to catch up on the fact that it’s not shadows on his gloves—it’s blood.

“Mando!” You say, just a little too loudly. The kid doesn’t stir, so you gently place him in his hammock, and close the door to the bed quarters before rushing over to Mando. 

“I’m alright,” he says, but he sounds strained. His right pouldron is pressed into the wall, blood staining his hand where it holds the rib underneath. 

You rush to him, your hands flailing about a bit, not sure where to put them, or if you should put them anywhere— “Sit down,” you instruct, helping him over to the nearest crate. He limps, grunting softly in pain as he sits down. “What happened? Where’s your med kit?” 

He gestures to the locker behind you, right beneath the ladder. You’re there and back in a flash, kneeling down in front of him and tearing open the medpack. “The guy had friends,” Mando says, like that’s an explanation. 

“They shot you?” 

“Knife. To the ribs.” 

“Kriffing hells,” you shuffle closer, trying to inspect the wound. He’s still holding it with his gloved hand, the light brown leather completely covered now in dark red blood. Your hands hover above him. “Can I…?” 

He nods, and pulls his hand away. 

Fuck. It’s a five inch long gash, an inch across. Seeping fresh blood, dripping down the small piece of skin that you can see where the flight suit has been slashed. Reaching into the med pack, you pull out some gauze, and immediately press it into the wound, applying as much pressure as you can. It must hurt like fuck, but all he shows of it is a soft grunt, tilting his head away from you like he’s embarrassed of it.

“How much does it hurt?” 

“I’ve had worse,” he says. “It’s just a scratch.” 

“Mando, it’s going to need sutured,” you correct him, slightly incredulous. Your wrists start to ache from the pressure you’re holding, but you don’t care. It doesn’t matter. His blood is on your hands, getting under your fingernails. All that matters is stopping it. 

“Dank farrik,” he curses, clenching his blood-covered fist in his lap. 

“Did you get the guy?” You ask, shifting a little in your place to get a better angle. “He’s not, like, coming after you, is he?” 

“No. He and his friends are dealt with.” 

“Good,” you breathe out in relief, and turn back to your task. Your fingertips are brushing against his skin. It’s a damn shame you can’t appreciate that. 

“You don’t have to do this,” he says after a minute more of direct pressure. His voice still sounds strained, like he’s trying his hardest to keep the pain from it. 

You scoff. “Yes, I do. You can’t suture this wound yourself where it is.” 

“You know how to suture?” 

“I do,” carefully, you pull away the gauze, relief flooding through you when you see that the worst of the bleeding has stopped. Throwing the bloody fabric to the ground, you reach for the cleaning alcohol in the medpack, and cover more bandages in it. “Sorry, but this is going to hurt,” you apologise, looking up to his visor, waiting for his approval. “I don’t trust that they didn’t use a dirty blade.” 

Resigned, he nods, and gestures with his red glove for you to continue. 

Cringing, you press the soaked gauze to the wound. A hiss comes from his helmet, his chest tensing like he’s holding his breath. You feel his muscles flexing, holding taut against the pain. 

Then, you prepare the sutures. It’s been a while since you’ve done this. The last time was when you first escaped, and you cut your arm on some barbed wire on your way out of the house. Once you were safely on the shuttle, you sat and sutured with one hand, tying the knot with your mouth. 

Mando’s breathing is laboured as he slouches weakly on the crate. He holds open the hole in the fabric, allowing you the best access he can. 

“Sorry,” you soothe when the needle goes through a particularly sore bit. “Almost done, I promise.” 

He nods in your peripheral vision. 

Once he’s sewn up, you grab a bacta patch and stick it over the wound. Then, resisting the urge to run your fingertip around the edges of it, you gently remove his hand from its hold on the flight suit’s tear, and flatten down the fabric as best you can. 

He sighs, relieved that it’s over. “Thank you,” he says. 

“Of course. I’m just sorry you got hurt.” 

“Not your fault,” he grunts as he pushes off the crate so he’s sitting up more, instinctively bringing his hand up to hold at the wound. “I’m sorry it took me longer than I said.”

You nod, remembering how worried you were. (Maybe you were right to be.) “Complications,” you say, smiling a little, shrugging a shoulder. 

“They seem to like me,” he quips. 

You laugh, too, just relieved that he’s back, he’s safe, he’s not bleeding out.

“Where’s Grogu?” 

“He’s asleep. Fell asleep in my arms a while back. I put him in his hammock when you came in.” 

Mando nods. He’s looking at you, intent. You find the courage to hold his gaze. 

Then, it hits you what just happened. Arguably the least important part of what just happened, but that’s probably why it’s only coming up now—you just touched his skin. 

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Your eyes shift from his visor to his ribs, to where your fingers just were, ghosting over his skin without a second thought, without a moment to appreciate it. He was so warm. Your fingertips can still feel him. Like they never moved away. 

As if catching you staring, Mando shifts. He doesn’t look away from you, doesn’t try to get you to look away from him. 

“I was worried about you,” you confess into the quiet, still staring at his ribs. “You said you’d be back before sundown.” 

“I know,” he says. “I’m sorry. I should’ve called you on the commlink to let you know.”

You shake your head, “No, I understand. You were busy…” 

“No,” he sits up just a little closer, barely grunting in pain this time. “No, I should’ve let you know. It wasn’t fair to let you worry.” 

Wide-eyed under his gaze, you stare up into his visor, feeling your tongue dart out to wet your bottom lip. Distantly, you wish that it was him doing it. His tongue, his mouth, his lips. You just felt his skin. His bare skin. And you didn’t even think that was something that he was allowed… “I’m sorry if I overstepped. You know, touching you. If that’s against your Creed.…”

He’s still for a moment, but then he shakes his head. “It’s not.” 

“So…you’re allowed to show your skin, just not your face?” 

The familiar quirk of his helmet. “By Creed, it's not ideal, but when needed, yes. But just by my own rules…depends who I’m with.” 

You swallow, mouth suddenly dry. “With me…?” 

“I suppose I’m alright with it,” his voice is curved with a smirk. “If I must.”

You try to laugh, because it is funny, and you love it when he jokes with you, when he teases. But the self-doubt in you creeps in, weaving its way around the springing hope in your chest that maybe he’d be okay with showing you more skin someday. 

“You’d tell me if I overstepped,” you say, searching, “wouldn’t you?” 

As if sensing your sudden nervousness, his helmet looks straight at you again, and he leans in closer, hovering just in front of you. If it wasn’t for the beskar, you’d be able to feel his breath. “I would,” he says lowly. “You’d tell me if I did, too?” 

Wordless, you nod.

And then, something happens. 

Something so fleeting, so brief, that you could have imagined it. 

He reaches out with his non-bloodied hand, and brushes his fingers over your temple, pushing back a piece of hair. 

Then, it’s gone. Like it never even happened. 

But he’s still there. His face, so close to yours. If you could, you’d look at his lips. 

You swallow again, heavy, and you could swear that his visor twitches down, like he’s watching the movement in your throat. Kriff. You must be imagining things. There’s no way. 

“Are you hungry?” 

You’re startled to hear his voice, though it’s not unwelcome. “Yes,” you answer. “Always.” 

A breathy chuckle comes through his helmet. He stands up with his hand back on his ribs, and you hear the change in his breath, the hitch in it as he tenses his muscles to try and hide his discomfort. “I’ll make you something,” he says. “I was going to take you to a restaurant tonight, give you something other than my shitty cooking. But after the scene I caused, we should probably move on.” 

You nod in response, but it takes a minute for his words to actually catch up to you.

I was going to take you to a restaurant.

“Surely there are other restaurants on this planet,” you feign confidence, following him towards the ladder. 

“So you do want a break from my cooking?” 

“Absolutely. It’s horrible, being cooked for every night. Just really unpleasant.” 

A chuckle, a shake of his helmet.

You grin at the back of his head.

“I’ll take you to a restaurant one day,” he promises, and starts to haul himself up the ladder, his arms clearly struggling against the strain of his injury. “Promise.” 

“I’ll hold you to that,” you say, and that’s a promise, too.

-

There were a few places you saw in a book in Nevarro’s library that caught your eye. Some for good reasons, some for bad. 

One of the ones you definitely wanted to steer clear of was Canto Bight. 

But, apparently, that’s exactly where Mando needs to go for his next target. 

Which, given the pressing circumstances, you’re all for. Surprisingly. It’s Mando who isn’t. 

“This is one of the people after the kid, right?” You ask, staring at the holomap of the planet that floats on the cockpit’s panel. 

“Yes,” Mando says. “But if he sees me coming, he’ll either start a firefight, or flee. We can’t have that kind of heat at a casino.” 

“Isn’t there a time when he won’t be at the casino?”

“Doubtful.” 

“But he’s a bounty hunter, right? Can you not get him while he’s out hunting?” 

“I could. But he goes off the grid when he’s working. The only place we know he’ll always come back to is the Bight casinos.” 

You frown, chewing your bottom lip in thought. “I guess you going undercover isn’t an option,” you say. 

He shakes his head. 

Grogu is sitting in the copilot chair, playing with his favourite little silver ball. He loves that thing. He’s cooing to himself, probably coming up with some imaginative use for it. 

It’s still horrifying to you that there are people after him. 

A thought comes to your mind; one that, at first, you don’t know how it got there. It’s silly. It’s dangerous. You have absolutely no experience with this kind of thing, have only ever been to four places in your entire life, and all that time was spent either trying to survive your family or trying to survive being alone. 

So offering to go undercover for Mando is definitely not a good idea.

But the kid. 

He looks at you like he knows what you’re thinking—maybe he actually does, kriff—and his eyes are so big, so innocent, his ears tilting as he seems to listen to your very thoughts. He’s an innocent little creature. Mischievous and troublesome as hell, sure, but he’s not got a bad bone in his body. How could he, with someone like Mando raising him? 

After everything the two of them have done for you, this is only right. 

Crazy. 

But right.

They are your friends. For that, and for the same reason you helped Mando in the first place, you have to protect them. 

“I could help,” you say into the thoughtful quiet. 

Mando turns his head to you. “How?” 

“I could…go in there.” 

“Undercover?” 

“…Yeah. You know, lure him somewhere private. You could wait for me to bring him to you.” 

Mando is silent for a long minute. Then, he turns away. “No.” 

“What? Why?” 

“I won’t put you at risk.” 

“You’re not. I’m the one volunteering.” 

“No.” 

“Mando,” you sit forward in your chair just a little, and look down at the kid, only feeling your resolve grow stronger the more you see him. “You’re injured, and you can’t go into the casino without alarm bells going off. From what I see, the guy loves a lady by his side. I could be that lady for the night. Lure him somewhere quiet, where you’ll be waiting to take him out. I can be pretty persuasive…” 

“No.” 

“Come on!” You exclaim. “I’d be safe, with you looking out for me.” 

“It’s not necessary. I’ll find another way.” 

“You just said the only place you know he’ll be is at the casino. He won’t expect you to attack him there. It makes sense to do it like this.” 

“I work alone.” 

You raise an eyebrow, feeling challenged all of a sudden, like maybe he doesn’t trust you to do this. And you don’t know why you’re fighting so hard to put yourself in a situation like that; to literally become an accessory to a murder. 

Actually, no, you do know why. Because Grogu is at stake here. There are people after him, and Mando is doing his best to make sure he stays safe, but if you can help then why shouldn’t you? (And, maybe it’s also because you want to prove that you can. To Din, and to yourself.)

Besides. It’ll be better than sitting in this ship, worrying that Mando is dead.

“You might work alone,” you say, “but it’s alright to accept help for once.” 

“You’re fighting awful hard for something dangerous.” 

“I’m fighting awful hard for him,” you say, not even needing to gesture to Grogu, because you know that Mando will know who you mean. “I know you are, too. And after everything you guys have done for me, please, I want to help. I promise I’m not a liability; I can handle high pressure situations.”

Mando is still. Quiet. 

“And, hey, if it all goes wrong, at least you won’t have to worry about carting me around everywhere anymore.” 

The helmet whips around to look at you, followed by his entire chair turning towards you. “You’re not cargo,” he says, sounding genuinely frustrated, a bite to his voice that you’ve never heard before. “I’m not trying to get rid of you at the first chance I get; it wouldn’t be a good thing for something to happen to you.” 

A smile twitches at your lips. You’ll admit; the joke was a thinly-veiled attempt to get some validation that he does, in fact, want you around. “Mando,” you say, softening your tone, “please, let me help you; let me help him. He’s…he’s special. We can’t let anything happen to him.”

He’s quiet again, though this time it’s less like he’s stewing and more like he’s processing your words. His hands are spread out on his armoured thighs, fingers splayed across the beskar. You’re so determined to do this that you don’t even let his—quite frankly indecent—pose distract you for once. 

He sighs just a little. His hands slide up and down the beskar plates. “And if he’s not interested in being distracted?” 

“I’ll find another way. Lure him with some spice, or something.”

“Because you have plenty of that to go around,” he deadpans. His head is tilted to the side a little, challenging. Goddammit, now you are distracted by him. Because he’s sitting there, legs spread wide with his hands pressed against his thick thighs, leaning back against the pilot’s chair with his chest just right there on full display, inviting, head tilted like he’s challenging you. It’s moments like these that you thank the Maker he’s covered in armour. Because if you could see even a slight hint at the fact there’s flesh and muscle under there, you might just fall apart at the seams. Starting with between the legs. 

Now is not the time.

“I don’t want to use you as bait,” he protests, softer now, almost…scared? “You deserve better than that.” 

A sad smile finds its way onto your mouth. You know he means it, but you don’t agree. “I’ve been used as worse,” you confess, quiet, not quite aware of what you’ve said before it’s too late.

Tension attaches itself to his shoulders, his fingers clenching on cool metal. “What?” 

“Nothing. Nothing. I just meant—it’s alright. I’ll know that I’m safe, because you’ll be nearby.” 

He pauses, then sighs. “Are you sure about this?” 

“Yes,” you say. Then, reaching across to rub your finger on Grogu’s nose, “It’s for him. We have to keep him safe. If we know of someone who wants to hurt him, we have to stop them.” 

He doesn’t move a muscle, but something in the air around him shifts. It’s too subtle to put a finger on it. And you can’t read his face. 

“Thank you,” he says. “For doing this.” 

You look back to the kid. Find yourself smiling. “He’s worth it,” you say, and mean it.

When Mando speaks, his voice sounds different, almost choked. “He is.” 

-

There’s a reason you didn’t want to come to this place.

It’s loud, bright, and far too fucking busy. 

The air stinks of liquor and spice, loud with the shrill sounds of various gambling games, cheers of celebration and yells of defeat. You truly never understood the thrill of gambling. Perhaps it’s because your whole life felt like a gamble up until you left.

The guy Mando’s after is easy to find. He’s standing at the head of the roulette table, but every five minutes he walks off with a different woman from every species you can think of; then he comes back after a half hour with lipstick on his face and neck and redness in his cheeks, looking very proud of himself. The women who he left with never look quite as satisfied upon their return, though; just disappointed. Which is unsurprising, given his clear bravado that is based on nothing but the fact he’s wearing expensive clothes and jewellery. You’ve met men like him before. Cocky, totally unaware of other people, just after the next place he can find a bit of a high before moving on to the next one. 

You were engaged to be married to someone like that.

The thought makes you shudder as you stand at the roulette table, and you force the memory away as he places another bet. The line of women around the table is getting shorter, and you realise why there are so many of them when you see him slip credits into the pockets of each one before he walks away with them. Looks like he pays them a pretty penny, too. In your head, you think, Good for them.

Just not good for him. Not for long.

Turns out, distracting him is easy. Mando has had eyes on the place the entire evening, and the only thing stopping you from completely losing your mind in the loudness has been his voice in your ear the whole time. He’s tracking where the target is taking the women, and tells you once you’re attached to his shoulder that he’s waiting in the bathroom for your moment alone. 

The target slips some credits into your pocket, and you give him a sultry smile, taking a hold of his tie and pulling him back towards the bathroom. (The bathroom? Really? Classy.) 

“If he touches you…” Mando’s voice comes through your ear, low and threatening. 

“We’re on our way,” you say in a sing-song voice, pretending you’re saying it to the target, walking backwards and keeping your eyes locked on his the entire time. His pupils are blown wide, the whites of his eyes bloodshot. His hands snake over your waist, cold and clammy on the red sequin dress you’re wearing. He bites his blue lips, looks you up and down like you’re a prize.

“They’re bringing all the best ladies in here tonight…” he leers down at you. 

As you cross the threshold into the bathroom, you kick the door closed behind him, giving him a teasing giggle as you pull at the lapels of his suit jacket. His hands slide around to the small of your back and jerk you in closer to him. 

Mando is behind the privacy screen in the corner of the room. You know because he told you two minutes ago when he arrived.

“This place is filthy,” he’d said in your ear, “he could at least clean up between visits.” 

“Come on, pretty lady,” the target grins lopsidedly at you, and one of his cold hands slides up your ribs, caressing your face. You pull him backwards towards the screen, needing to get him close enough for Mando to push the blaster to his skull. “Teasin’ me, huh? Oh, I like when they do that…” 

The click of a blaster's safety switch, then the shine of it in your peripheral vision. Its barrel presses against the target’s forehead as his eyes turn from lustful to alert, widening as his hands instinctively fly up into the air in surrender. 

Mando steps out from behind the screen. You step back, letting him stand in front of the target where you once were. Now, you stand behind the wall of beskar.

The target’s face straightens in recognition. “Mando,” he says. “Funny seeing you here. Never took you as the type to have a partner.”

A partner. 

The helmet tilts towards you just a little. “Are you okay?” He asks. 

You look at him, surprised. You didn’t expect to be on the list of priorities. “I’m good.”

He looks back to the target, the barrel of his blaster still pressed to the centre of his forehead. “You know why I’m here,” Mando says. He holds out his hand, palm facing the ceiling. “Give me the tracking fob.” 

The guy laughs, high-pitched and trying not to sound like he’s nervous. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mando.” 

“The fob. Give it to me.” 

“I don’t have it.” 

“Where is it?” 

Instead of answering Mando’s question, the man’s eyes float over his shoulder and back to you. His pupils go wide again, and he licks his thin bottom lip, then pulls it between his teeth. “Maybe we can come to some sort of arrangement,” he says with a leer at you and a dreadfully-executed wink. “With your…partner.” 

Mando shoves the blaster against his head, forcing him to stumble back a few feet. Mando follows him, keeping the barrel pressed in the same place, “I have a blaster to your head, and you think you’re in a position to make agreements? Look at me.” 

He doesn’t. 

“Look at me,” Mando says again, his tone lowering in pitch.

The man is still looking at you. You’ve never seen this kind of brazen audacity before. The man literally has his death pressed to the centre of his forehead, the Mandalorian in control of whether he lives or dies telling him to not look at you, and yet he’s just grinning across Mando’s shoulder. The look he gives you is sickening and, though you hadn’t minded his hands on you when you knew you were going to escape any second, now it’s like you can still feel them clutching at you and you wish you never had. 

“Last chance,” Mando warns. “Look at me. Not at her. Or I will make you regret it.” 

The man laughs. 

And then, it all happens very quickly. 

Mando doesn’t fire the blaster.

Instead, he tackles the guy into the wall, so rough and sudden that it makes you jump backwards. The guy yelps in surprise, Mando’s forearm now pressed against his neck. Mando shoves his knee up into the guys groin, and he groans in response, eyes squeezing shut. 

“Where,” Mando growls, “is the tracking fob?” 

Winded, the guy pants for a second. Surely, you think, he’s going to tell him now. It would be crazy not to. 

Except, this guy is crazy. Not only is he crazy, but he thinks nothing can touch him. 

So he looks at you again. This time, his hand moves at his side. 

You only see him reaching for a knife when it’s already too late. He throws it across the room at you, flicking it so quickly and expertly that it happens in a blur, and before you know it there’s a searing pain in your shoulder blade as you distantly hear the sound of metal piercing your flesh. 

“Ah!” You cry out and stumble backwards. 

Hearing your shout, Mando turns to look at you, and in his moment of distraction the target takes the opportunity to use the hand that threw the knife to punch Mando in the side, unknowingly hitting the wound on his ribs. 

Mando stumbles backwards. 

There’s a knife sticking out of your shoulder, and the man isn’t running away when he has the chance. 

Unbelievably, ridiculously, he starts towards you. 

Before he can even take two steps, the sound of a blaster echoes through the room. His face goes blank, a fresh, still burning-orange circle shot right through his forehead. 

He falls to the ground like a piece of card blown by the wind, and you only just manage to scramble backwards to stop him landing on you. 

A bounty tracking fob falls from a hidden jacket pocket.

Mando is by your side in an instant, holstering his blaster. His gloved hands hover over your shoulder, which currently doesn’t even really hurt, the adrenaline carrying you through it. “Hey, did he hurt you anywhere else? How bad are you bleeding?” He checks the back of your shoulder, making sure the blade didn’t go all the way through. It didn’t, thank the Maker. 

“I’m—I’m okay,” you stammer weakly, one hand clutching the skin around your wound. 

“The knife is keeping in the blood,” he says, “but we’ll need to remove it. I’m going to look for some med supplies—”

As he turns to stand up, you reach out your good arm and take a quick hold of his hand, pulling him back. “Not here,” you request, beg, “please, not here. Not in front of his…his body. Take me back to the ship.” 

“Cyar’ika…” 

You don’t have time to question the nickname right now, “Please, Mando, I can’t—I can’t. Get me out of here, please.” 

He only hesitates for a second before he’s nodding and reaching down to help you up. Pain sears through your shoulder as you stand, your arm not stable enough to stop from jolting the wound. 

Thankfully, it’s so busy in this place that no one notices the two of you stumbling from the bathrooms. Once you’re clear of that area, Mando leads you down back corridors and rooms, and you try to contain your pained whimpers as each step jolts the blade in your flesh. 

“It’s alright, it’s okay, we’re almost there,” he shushes you all the way, keeping you close by him, almost flinching every time someone dares come near the two of you.

It doesn’t take long to get back to the ship. He docked somewhere secluded, paid for a security-protected landing pad and a child-minder to watch the kid.

A child-minder who looks very alarmed when the ship door hisses open and in the two of you stumble, blood slowly seeping from your shoulder and down your arm. 

Mando dismisses them, tells them to leave. 

Once the ship is locked down again, he gently lowers you onto one of the crates—the same one he sat on when he was injured, funnily enough—and rushes for a medpack. “I’m sorry, Cyar’ika, I have to take the knife out,” he says, tone so thick with apology that it almost renders you breathless. 

Well, more breathless than you already are. 

The adrenaline is starting to wear off now, pain getting more and more intense. It throbs, deep and extending far over your chest and arm. 

He takes hold of your good hand, and lifts it onto his shoulder. Not the pouldron; the soft bit between the beskar and his helmet, where only his flight suit separates you from his skin. Tilting his head to meet your glazed eyes, he says, “Just look right at me. Squeeze as hard as you need to,” he pats your hand, then moves away from it, “and look at me. Right at me, okay?” 

Bracing yourself as he grasps the knife’s handle, you nod, staring into his visor with wide eyes. More than ever before, you wish you could see his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and you think he’s apologising for the pain, but then, “I’m sorry you can’t look right in my eyes, Cyar’ika, I truly am…” 

You realise you’d said it out loud.

Beneath the pain of your shoulder comes guilt in your stomach, for putting your selfish wishes on him. 

He doesn’t pay it any more mind though, “But I’m here, and you’re going to be okay. I promise. Just look at me. Ready?” 

You nod. 

He pulls, and, kriff, nothing could have prepared you for the pain. 

Without Mando’s soft hands and words of comfort, you’re not sure you could’ve handled much more of that.

But now you’re okay. 

The wound has been fully dealt with: cleaned, sewn up, treated with bacta, and wrapped with a big bandage all the way around your shoulder and the top of your arm. It works mostly to reduce your arm’s mobility, so it doesn’t jolt the wound. 

You feel bruised, and tired. But the kid’s here, fast asleep in his hammock behind the bedroom door. You’ve got the tracking fob. The guy who did this to you is dead. 

You’re okay. 

Mando, on the other hand, doesn’t seem okay right now. 

His calmness in the face of the crisis has worn off, and now he’s pacing back and forth, one hand on his hip as his head shakes over and over. 

“Mando…” you say softly, trying to sit up better on the crate, “what’s wrong?” 

He almost laughs. It’s a bitter and breathy sound, and you don’t like it. “What’s wrong?” He repeats. “I know I don’t have to explain that to you.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

“I knew this would happen,” he mutters, almost like he’s just saying it to himself. “I knew you could get hurt. This was why I didn’t want your help, I knew you’d be in danger, I shouldn’t have let you…” his voice is deep, filled with bitterness and scolding, though only for himself. 

“I’m alright, Mando,” you say. “It’s alright. Just take a breath.” 

“A breath?” He whips around to face you, stopping in his tracks. “Look at you—you’re hurt! It could’ve been so much worse, I let you in there with that—that shabuir—”

“I knew the risks,” you say, shifting uncomfortably. 

“So did I, and I let you do it anyway. Maker, I knew this was a bad idea, I knew it!” 

Definitely too quickly in your current state, you stand up, coming closer to him than you’d intended. “I knew the risks,” you say again firmly, “I knew. You didn’t let me do anything. I insisted on doing this, because I wanted to help. And if I had to do it again, and have it happen the exact same way? I would.” 

Somehow, his incredulousness seeps through his body language, his expressionless face. “I shouldn’t have let this happen,” he argues, raising his voice now, “I knew I’d put you in danger, I should’ve just done the job myself, waited for him to come out of hiding—”

It could be the pain in your shoulder, the dull ache that’s spreading through your entire body, you’re not sure; but there are tears welling in your eyes, stinging in your nose. “Are you angry with yourself,” you start, “or me?” 

“I don’t—I don’t know.” 

You take a step back, hurt. “We did the mission, didn’t we?” You ask tearily. “We got the fob, the kid’s safe. I’m fine, Mando, I’ll heal…” 

“You’re hurt, Cyar’ika! I promised you my protection!” 

Frustrated, and fucking exhausted, you throw your hands out to the side in exasperation. You’re going round in circles. “Mando, I don’t know what you want me to say! What’s done is done, it’s over, and I’m going to be okay!” 

“That’s—that’s not the point…” 

You take a step closer again. “Then what is the point? Because all this yelling at me is going to achieve absolutely nothing—”

“I’m not yelling at you!” 

“It seems like you are!” 

“I’m not!” 

Anger is starting to stir in your own veins now, making the pain in your shoulder even more intense, throbbing faster as your heart rate increases. You don’t need this right now, it’s actually the last fucking thing you need—“Well, then stop yelling in front of me! Go yell at yourself somewhere else, and let me fucking rest. I’m in pain, Mando, and I can’t deal with whatever this—” you gesture vaguely to his form, “—is right now!” 

Something in him deflates. 

His shoulders slump just slightly, and one of his feet steps backwards, like he’d lost his balance for a second. Honestly, he looks a bit like someone just slapped him back into sense. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, so quiet compared to a moment ago, “Shit, I’m sorry, Cyar’ika, I shouldn’t have raised my voice…” 

If you could, you’d fold your arms over your chest. “No. You shouldn’t.” You say, firm. 

He holds out one of his hands, almost like a gesture of pleading, or reasoning. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’m sorry.” 

You stare at him for a long moment. His hand is still extended, and you wonder if maybe he wants you to take it. Surprisingly, you’re not sure if you want to. Which is alien in itself, because when have you not wanted Mando to ask you to hold his hand? 

But right now, you’re upset. You get that Mando is too, that he’s shaken after what happened. Later, you’ll feel honoured that he’s gotten this worked up over you getting hurt. (You’ve never even heard him raise his voice before.) But right now, getting yelled at was not what you needed, and you’re fucking tired. 

“What does it mean?” You ask. Quiet. Not looking at him. 

“What?” 

“That thing you call me,” you reply. “Don’t tell me it’s been an insult all this time and you just called me it when you were apologising.” A wry, tired smirk tilts your lips. 

He shakes his head. You’re not sure what this particular head shake means, so you just watch, and wait. Refusing to leave this spot until he tells you the damn truth. 

“Just tell me, Mando. You owe me it now.”

A sigh comes through his helmet. His shoulders slump with it. He looks away, hanging his head as though he’s…ashamed? Embarrassed? “Sweetheart,” he breathes. The word comes so quietly, so tentatively, that you’re not sure he even said it at all.

You raise an eyebrow. “What?” 

“It means ‘sweetheart’.” He says again, though this time he looks at you, the dark visor meeting your eyes.

Oh. 

Oh. 

A new feeling in your chest, then. Something light, bright. You straighten your posture, suddenly wide-eyed and lost for words. The air in the room shifts in an instant, from tense and fraught to tender, intimate. 

He called me sweetheart. 

You’re saved from having to say something when the bed chamber door hisses open. Standing there, right at the foot of Mando’s bed, is Grogu. His eyes are wide and filled with tears, ears tilted all the way down to the ground. 

“Kriff,” Mando curses, heading over to him. “He probably heard that whole thing.” 

Maybe if he hadn’t just told you that he’s been calling you sweetheart all this time, you’d say something like, “And who’s fault is that?” 

But, right now, you can’t even form a word, let alone a sentence. And you don’t want to give him attitude or snark. In fact, you don’t know what you want to give him. (Well, that’s not entirely true…) Since he just gave you the truth, even though it meant admitting something like that. Or, at least, it felt like he admitted something. 

Sweetheart. 

Immediately, your brain rationalises it. 

He probably calls everyone that. 

(You know that that’s objectively not true.) 

It’s probably just a slip of the tongue. 

(He doesn’t do those. Every word out of his mouth is purposeful.) 

It was probably just to calm me down. 

(You didn’t even know what it meant until you forced it out of him.) 

No, there’s no explaining this any other way. Either he’s being cruel by calling you something so soft and not meaning it, or he has something like the same feelings you do. 

And he is not a cruel man. 

Mando'a translation: Shabuir - extreme insult, "jerk" but much stronger.

Notes: ahhh i hope you enjoyed!! as always i appreciate any interaction but reblogs help so much with my engagement and comments/thoughts/streams of consciousnesses make my lil heart happy :) next chapter is a long one so buckle up for that one. see you monday :)

take care of yourself!

taglist: @toobsessedsstuff @granillx @keepingitlokiii @shoe1412 @kiruoris @quentinor @yourunstablegf @moonknight-s-cumdump @senassn @samanthacookieone @local-fanfic-addict @your-slutty-gf @brilliantopposite187 @whenpugzfly @elsasshole @moony-toasts @julesjewelss36 @jbcalway @mxlsmith @indec1sive @lordhavemurthy @booktvmoviefangirl

[deecotan]

Do you have a list of favorite zosan fics? Sorry if someone's asked this before x.x

Hooo boy, this is going to be challenging because there's simply a lot of fics that I like and it's kind of all over the place depending on my mood, but I'm going to make a general list of some of my favorites and a short summary of why I like them.

This is going to be a little long so I'm going to put them under read more!

Sketches of Life (and Love) by Fledgling — An exploration of a headcanon where Sanji likes to draw in his free time. This fic always leaves me with a warm feeling every time I read it because how endearingly sweet it is. It's basically a domestic fluff story about both ZoSan and the Strawhats crew in general.

green with envy blues by adietxt — A cute fic about Zoro being jealous. Jealous!Zoro has been one of those tropes that make me screech like a feral animal every time I come across it and this fic does exactly that. It's pretty short and simple but it captures the characters very well. It's set during pre-timeskip which makes it even better to me because pre-TS Zoro possesses that boyish quality that post-TS Zoro doesn’t necessarily have anymore. 

Old Men Blues by postmoderne — Quoting directly from the fic's summary, “Sanji and Zoro: two ancient fucks (in love).” because this is exactly that, a story about old men ZoSan. Old Zoro and old Sanji are both still as stubborn as ever and it's endearing.

Meet me under the orange tree by candelina — A canon divergence AU where Zoro and Sanji met as kids, as Zeff opened up Baratie in Zoro's hometown. It's an adorable and heartwarming story of little Zoro and little Sanji's friendship. There's also a part two which is also worth reading.

Other fics from candelina: The whole world will know, another fic about old men ZoSan, this one involves Zoro deliberately showing himself to the Marines for god knows what. It's sweet, it's beautiful, and it shows that Zoro is as reckless and idiotic as he is a loving, devoted husband.

Zoro's Boyfriend, Who Lives In Canada by donutsandcoffee — Modern AU, where Zoro's friends try to stop him from believing that his imaginary, totally made-up boyfriend actually exists. Of course Zoro's boyfriend doesn't actually exist, because with the way Zoro describes him he's way too perfect to exist and how can anyone so perfect actually exist? A hilarious story of misunderstandings. 

Other fics from donutsandcoffee: My other favorite stories would be Prison Blues and it’s a long way forward, which serve as both a ZoSan story and a great Sanji character study. 

The Three of Swords by 8ball — A medieval AU with knight Zoro and prince Sanji, a concept that starts to really grow on me after I begin to read this fic. In this story, Zoro is a cursed knight appointed to serve Sanji, a deeply kind-hearted prince whom Zoro eventually pines over. It's a beautiful take of prince and knight AU; devoted knight Zoro is something that I didn't know I need. It also has a sequel. 

Steady, As She Goes by auspizien — I've always loved auspizien's fics and this is the one fic that made me fall in love with their writing. This is a modern AU story where Zoro is an ex-agent with PTSD who meets and befriends Sanji, a paramedic. It's a multi-chapter fic filled with humor, angst, pining, action, and good ol’ slow-burn. 

The Tribulations of Tempation by SweetyGreeny — Zoro accidentally sees Ace and Sanji doing... the do, and then spends days after that feeling shocked, confused, angry, and disappointed.  A simply delicious story of pining and jealous Zoro. There's a slight AceSan in the beginning but the endgame is still ZoSan.  

Other fics from SweetyGreeny: A Siren's Sinking Song, a canon-divergent AU where Sanji is a siren who one day meets a peculiar swordsman from a wandering ship; this story is beautiful and I love the idea of siren!Sanji, but please note the major character death TW. The Burden of Blondes, Sanji finds out that Zoro has a thing for blondes, and for some reason he feels uneasy. A fun story with some good smut. 

(I Want) Someone to Love Me by three_days_late — Sanji is about to turn 17, so he hopes that he can get his first kiss before that. A cute high school AU that involves everyone wanting to kiss Sanji (honestly, who doesn't) but only one person gets to actually do it. 

Other fics from three_days_late: Blood Red - this might be a little biased because this fic is inspired by my comic, but that's also a perfectly good reason why I must add it here; this fic is able to capture the spirit of the comic perfectly. If you want to read a short exposition of Zoro showing his protective side, then this fic is worth the read. The Christmas Swap, a modern AU in which Sanji and Reiju switch partners during Christmas so they can attend their family gathering without having to come out as queer. It’s a wonderful story about family, relationships, and what it feels like to be closeted. The Only Way Out (Is Through), a beautiful Prince Sanji and Knight Zoro story, where circumstances forced them to be unable to be together - and it also has a side Nami/Vivi. 

Curly Angel by APTX (translated to English by NMTD) — In this alternative canon universe, everyone has a guardian angel, and Zoro's just happened to be Sanji. Hilarity ensues. I have to admit that I absolutely love all of APTX's ZoSan fics, but since most of them are in Chinese, if you're like me and doesn't mind reading some really botchy translations of said fics, then you can try using Google Translate to read them.

Let me be your Inspiration by TheWanderers — College AU where Sanji is an artist/painter - another fic that explores Sanji as someone with an artistic streak, but also so much more. It's a beautiful story that starts out with Zoro having to model for Sanji's painting but ends up falling in love with him. I love the way the author adapts the characters' canon backstory into this universe.

Thy Fearful Symmetry by Harubo — A modern AU where Sanji is a tourist visiting a tiger reserve during a family vacation and Zoro is a detective investigating a poaching ring. All of Harubo's fics are godsend but I particularly love this one because the setting reads like a perfect rom-com drama movie about a stressed, overworked chef meeting a handsome detective. There's also a nice tidbit where the Vinsmoke siblings are trying to get along with each other.

Retrogade by Hazel_Athena — Sanji got badly injured after a fight, and ends up losing a big chunk of memories - he doesn't find it too bothersome until he notices how weird Zoro starts to act around him. It's a really good temporary amnesia fic with some really delicious pining!Zoro material.

Done Dirt Cheap by Balderdashfromafool — Basically a Western ZoSan AU, where Zoro is an outlaw and Sanji is a small town chef. This one is fun and lovely, and as someone who doesn’t read a lot of Western-themed stories, I love the way the author describes the Western setting in this fic. 

Each A Love Song by Shadowcatxxx — Sanji is frustrated because Zoro's surprisingly popular with women when he doesn't even like them back. A story of a confused Sanji trying to find love and being the World’s Most Oblivious Man. 

And that's all for now! It got way longer than I initially thought....there are some fics that I exclude, mostly the more explicit, PWP-type of fics, as well as Omegaverse fics, because my taste on them tend to be more specific and self-indulgent as ever. I might need to make a separate post for that, and also like feel free to ask me about them anytime. 

I really hope I've done these fics justice with my summaries. I can't overstate how talented these authors are, so please shower them with love, kudos, comments, attention, etc etc if you have time.

[gingerylangylang1979]

Black women who ship Carmy x Sydney, please take care of yourselves

This is written from a place of love, not condescension or trying to spank or belittle anybody. 

I guess I’m just growing concerned about many black women in this fandom feeling bad about this ship in a number of ways and some trends I see that aren’t healthy and uplifting. What I say may make some people angry. Some people may feel I’m dismissing legit concerns or lived experiences. I’m sure I’ll get blocked by some. Oh well. I'm gonna speak my truth. All I’m trying to do is give much needed perspective and say the quiet parts out loud.

When I see black women repeatedly literally letting this shit make them upset and enraged at every turn, daily, it’s a bit alarming to me. If one's happiness is so swayed by the whims of perception of a ship it’s a bit unsettling. Why let this shit have so much power over your mood and enjoyment? It’s just a show. But I think for many it’s way deeper than that and that’s not being kind to oneself or fair to the creators and performers. 

I’ll say this, I know there is misogynoir, and both conscious and unconscious bias involved in a lot of the reactions we are seeing about this ship. I’ve spoken to it. But I think a lot of us are failing to see the nuance of the whole picture and are making everything literally black & white and a cause for outrage and panic. Where I see misogynoir is most at play is in how fans view Ayo/Syd and as an extension Carmy x Sydney. Where I don’t see it particularly in play is how the cast and crew speak about the ship. 

Every time an article comes out denying the ship the knee jerk reaction is hating on Storer and Calo like they don’t want the ship to happen because Syd is black. I just don’t see any evidence of that or need to assume bad intentions. If you trust what you are seeing and think it’s endgame that contradicts Storer and Calo not wanting the ship for racist reasons.

I know what has happened with other BW/WM ships but I just don’t see that here. The romantic undercurrents are just too heavy and they greatly respect Syd as a stand alone character and Ayo as an actress and creator in her own right. Are they going to get everything you want right? No. But they are trying. Does that mean we will get everything we want with her/them? Not necessarily. The same can be said for any of these characters. Just trust what you're seeing, the intentionality is there even if it isn’t validated in media about the show. 

But because she is a black woman we are more invested and more focused on her treatment. That’s fine, let’s uplift her, and protect her. But what I see is a somewhat unhealthy attachment to viewing her as somehow being wronged at every turn. I get it. But I also think it’s not beneficial to be almost looking for her to be wronged in places where it isn’t true. If the ship isn’t being validated in the media and Carmy isn’t kissing her and declaring his love next season it's not sidelining, it’s storytelling, and it’s a slow burn. Some of the same people talking about they want a slow burn I guarantee will be up n arms if Carmy x Sydney are further apart next season, which I think will happen. That's what happens in these romances. But the first thing people will jump to is the writers don't want them together because she is black and the first article denying the ship will have people ready to ride at dawn.

I think it’s just difficult for some to come to terms with how this is going to play our over time and what that really means because she is a black woman character and we want the most for her. They will have ups and downs. Yes, Carmy dated someone else. There is pressure to validate her in so many ways that just aren’t necessarily going to be satisfied on all levels and I think some are making it way personal to a degree that isn’t necessarily warranted. 

Whatever happens with Syd isn’t going to correct the history of the black woman's experience in the media or real life. It will be a monumental event if they go canon, for sure, but I think some people are getting way too emotional and angry if every little thing doesn’t go how they want with her and Carmy. I also see a bit of trying to make other elements validate Syd as a black woman and by extension validate oneself. 

The insistence from some that Ayo and Jeremy have something going on or Jeremy’s performance is rooted in feelings for Ayo is so strange to me. Why? I think some people need to feel like Jeremy has feelings for her because he’s the hot white lead to validate her as a black woman. As excellent as Jeremy is as an actor do people really think he has to actually be in love with Ayo to get the performance we are seeing? He’s just extremely good at his job. I don’t think he has to do that with any other emotions he is portraying so why this need to have him be in love to make the performance resonate? 

I’ve also seen people trying to make a connection with the fact that he’s been seen with a biracial black woman as somehow meaning the next step is he should be with a monoracial black woman and connecting that with him and Sydney. Why? I saw a post that was questioning why this woman isn’t dark skinned with kinky hair as if he’s obligated to date someone that looks “black enough” to validate the attractiveness of dark skinned black women. This post also seemed to be super invested in that because that’s what they look like and want to feel Jeremy should be attracted to them. It’s not the first time I’ve seen this and it always makes me cringe and feel deeply sorry for that person.

I think it’s cool he’s dating a WOC but I have no entitlement or expectation that he go darker and nappier to prove anything to me or the public. And it has no bearing on if he would find someone who looks like me attractive in a sexual way or the same for his character. Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn’t. What does it matter? If he is told to kiss Ayo onscreen, he will, because he’s a professional. Why are people making it so personal who he chooses in his real life? It just seems extremely insecure and projecting. If he dates someone else who is white white or another race that’s not black, is that going to hurt feelings? He doesn’t like “belong” to black women now. Jokes about it are funny but internalizing it as validation is dangerous. 

I also see this in an intense desire to have another white character be in the love triangle. If you just want someone else in the picture, fine. But I feel like there is this big desire to have it be another white man when Marcus has been there the whole time. I don’t ship her with Marcus (well, I did for a minute when I was enraged with Carmy) but it’s because I don’t think it’s where her heart is. But I also don’t see Marcus as a non-viable option. But since he’s not the white boy of the month, it’s not as appealing or viewed as big of a win for some if she’s with him or he’s the only suitor. People have mentioned Connor as a potential. Ok, yeah, I can see it based on the evidence presented, but I hope it isn’t viewed as a like let’s boot Marcus so this white boy who sorta superficially looks like Carmy is the rival. Maybe it can be a love square and three men fight for Syd, but I don’t want to discredit Marcus just because another curly haired white boy with blue eyes shows up. 

And lastly, if your emotional well being is so super effected about what happens to Sydney and it’s so entangled with feelings of being marginalized to the point that it’s distressing and your hyperfocused on every detail as a win or lose, I think you need to consider why and understand her being with Carmy isn’t going to heal anything. A lot of fans project personal issues onto characters and it’s just never going to fill an emotional hole or be a substitute for racial justice.

I saw someone post recently that this ship is a coping mechanism. And honestly it shouldn’t be. Just like Claire can’t fix Carmy, shipping Carmy x Sydney and hoping they are canon isn’t going to fix anything. If this is a fun outlet for you and a way to spend free time, great. But I wouldn’t link being in the fandom and shipping with self care. It’s too volatile to be tethering your emotional well being to. That’s like putting your healing in the hands of writers, media, and fandom when you should be in control of your journey. I think it’s cool to relate to the characters and be invested in their story but it can get kind of messy and parasocial if you put too much personal weight on outcomes regarding the show.  

So, I just want us to be more positive and focus on the wins with this character and Ayo. And also focus on the future. That doesn’t mean ignore the shenanigans. But I think so much attention is focused on the negative that not enough credit is being given to the bravery of having a dark skinned black woman as the co-lead, having her be her own person with her own struggles and nuances, having her most likely also be an unconventional romantic lead, having Ayo be the breakout star she is, having her get EP credits and directing next season, how she is a cover star, how she is multi-talented, how she is praised by everyone who works with her, how she is the IT girl. And I think this story will do her justice in the end.

[impatient14]

Thinking about how I've always wondered if they knew after Runaway Bride and Martha's arc that the best thing for 10 would be a platonic soulmate, someone who wouldn't be dazzled by his charm and would call him out on his shit, but also love him so much they couldn't imagine their future without him. My favorite trope is the slow burn, platonic BFF to lovers, but if they would have gone that route with 10 and Donna, I would have been absolutely crushed. I wonder if they knew what they had with 10 and Donna, if they knew it was a safe casting when it comes to romantic undertones. David and Catherine's chemistry is so unique. They portray genuine love and devotion without the threat of romance creeping in. It's something you don't often see in characters who aren't related. It feels like there's always a little twinge of a "will they, won't they" scenario. And with 10 and Donna, it felt like a disservice to ship them together. I'm not disparaging the people who did, because everyone has the right to interpret their relationship in any way they want, but their platonic soulmate vibe was so personal to me.

(Because it seems like no matter what I do, I cannot maintain a friendship with a (single) straight man or queer woman (like me) without that twinge of romance creeping in, and it is rarely from my side. I say that not to boast or stroke my ego, but because it is the genuine truth. I'm actually in the middle of that right now. I have a long-distance colleague that I have so much in common with and the relationship crept into the friendship territory pretty quickly. It was established before that friendship started that I was unavailable and uninterested in anything other than a professional or platonic relationship, and he seemed to totally accept that. He didn't flirt. No innuendos. He even started talking to me about his dates. At times I thought I sensed a vibe on his side, but there was nothing I could point to directly that would explain it, so I chalked it up to narcissism and trusted him. However, we finally met at a conference after about 3 months or so of our acquaintance and growing friendship, and being in the same space, his body language and general disposition made it crystal clear that he harbored feeling for me. He did not try anything directly or say anything that crossed the line, but I am confident he has feelings for me. Now, if he maintained our professional and platonic relationship without letting his feelings get in the way, I wouldn't cut off the relationship necessarily. It isn't his fault that he developed feelings, and if he continued to respect my feelings and not address those feelings directly to me, I would not hold anything against him. I'd be more careful about my own behavior and make sure those boundaries were always clearly defined, but I'd try to maintain our relationship.

However, after we met, it seemed like as soon as he realized he really didn't have a chance, he didn't see any value in my friendship. We have a lot in common professionally, joke a lot, and just generally get along pretty well (though his ego is *insane* and he has the emotional maturity of a toddler). I felt like we were developing a really great foundation for friendship, but apparently not. If he feels like he needed to distance himself to get over what he's feeling, that's fair. I can respect that. But it's so frustrating and isolating to feel like the only thing you have to offer is romance. It actually breaks my heart.)

So (getting back to Doctor Who) to see a real platonic friendship between people whose sexuality preferences align is so special to me. And to have the privilege to see that relationship continue with 14? It really was such a gift.

[guhamun]

SHIPPING INFO // answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog.

REPOST. don’t reblog.

What’s your OTP for your muse?

I honestly don’t have an OTP fkjdshf in any fandom. But ships I have with mutuals? Those tend to be my OTPs – but usually just with those people if they’re canon muses as I often become attached to people’s specific interpretations rather than who the muse are themselves. This can go into faceclaims too for ocs.

What are you willing to rp when it comes to shipping?

I think it’s easier for me to say what I don’t like when it comes to shipping. Highly toxic stuff is a big no for me personally since it makes me super uncomfortable and I feel bad writing it as a result of this, but other than that, everything is free game I guess??? I also don’t like Aged up muses like individuals who were like 13 or something aged up to 18 for shipping for a verse as that can stay 10000 feet away from me. So come at me with that and get a flat no and a block. I used to see this a while back in certain fandoms so maybe things are better nowadays....maybe.......

How large does the age gap have to be to make it uncomfortable?

For immortal muses or muses with very, very long lives, this tends to be free game since as long as both them and the other individual share the same mental / physical maturity and they're adults then we’re good to go. For outside of this, five years is my max and anything above that is too much for me. This is different if both muses are older adults, though, as 40 and 45 become quite inconsequential.

Are you selective when shipping?

VERY. It’s one of the reasons why it can take some time for me to ship with someone in the romantic sense as I need to get to know the mun through ooc communication on the dash or through tags or something. I need to get a feel for those vibes. Since I don’t go into interactions looking for this, that also makes it take some time to actually get to that point. It’s rare for me to go outside of the slow burn period unless I know someone and we’ve talked a lot / discussed things.

How far do steamy moments have to go before they're considered nsfw?

For me, the moment a lot of touching starts to get involved is my cue that things are more than likely going to get pretty spicy from there and to get ready to slap that readmore / nsfw tag on there.

What are other muses you ship your muse with?

-Vague hand gestures-

Does one have to ask to ship with you?

You can most certainly! Just don’t bring it up when we first start interacting because it’ll make me annoyed and that ship more than likely won’t ever happen. As someone who has been used before for having a specific muse for part of a ship, I’ll think that’s the only reason for the interest. Now, if we’re interacting and you see chemistry over time, then you can let me know. That’ll give me an idea of where the interest is, and then from there, if I’m feeling that chemistry too, I can send in those shippy memes without feeling like a weenie. 😭

How often do you like to ship?

I do like shipping, but not too often. Normally when I have a few ships, my interest in it tends to dwindle down into the aether. The type of muses I pick up doesn’t help either as they are often uninterested in romance from the first and or it takes 10 years to get a single doki out of them. Oh to have a muse that is easy to ship...

Are you ship obsessed or ship more-or-less?

I like shipping, but I’m very chill about it overall (until we actually start shipping---).

Are you multiship?

Yesss very much so. For some muses, though, that might be few-ship.

What is your favorite ship in your current fandom?

As I said, I don’t tend to be interested in ships much even with fandoms. However, I am fond of Ningguang and Beidou in Genshin. For Honkai, Bronya and Seele, and Natasha and Serval (I say that as if I have Honkai muses on here---). I like these in very specific ways and don’t tend to be fond of how fandom explores a lot of ships in general because I'm weird I guess FJHSJKFFS.

Finally, how does one ship with you?

Just interact! Really, that’s it! Don’t approach me with intent on shipping first time we interact and just let it happen. Talk to me too! I like having some kind of connection with whoever I’m shipping with or it feels like I’m in an echo chamber. That’s about all I can say in regards to all this! ^ O ^ )9