#I love writing angsty shit about my hyperfixations

[dragonroar64]

thinking about pvpciv. do y'all ever think about how the lack of true community would effect everyone

humans, at least, go a little crazy without peers and communities and families. a lack of friends, even, can be devastating even if you have all the support in the world of your family. do you think that just maybe, the way Evbo desperately searches out friends is partially due to his subconscious urge to have family and a support system?

what I'm getting at here is that pvp Evbo has no real support system, and humans are pack animals. does he think that he's unworthy of love because he lives in a society incapable of loving him? did a small part of him stay to get farmed partially because it meant he had a use and that he wasn't worthless? how much extra do you think Tabi's betrayal hurt because to him she was the last person who believed he wasn't worthless?

do you think he acts how he does in order to take up space in people's lives so they can't get rid of him without there being something missing? or maybe he behaves the way he does in a desperate attempt to form a real connection, because surely if they know everything about him then they'll feel close to him, right?

and beyond all that, how do you think it affects Tabi? is she doing this for the recognition? would collecting all these eternal items make her famous? would it make people love her and support her? or is she doing this because if she doesn't try, she'll be outcast? does the same lack of community motivate her and Evbo in opposite ways?

anyways. just some ideas

[a-little-bit-of-ships-in-my-life]

*sits down, while holding a bottle of soda from the movie theater*

I'll patiently wait for the fics about the Super Mario Bros Movie despicting Mario's aftermath of the whole ordeal, with the adrenaline wearing off and he processing all that happened. How close Luigi's death was if he didn't save him at the last minute, how much he was beaten up badly by everyone and how almost scorched himself (and Luigi) at the end. Knowing that everything came to be by being stubborn. Then coming to terms with not only his new separation anxiety, ptsd, and broken bones and bruises but with the realization that "Holy shit, all that happened in less than 48 hours."

*sips sprite*

I know some of you have him as your little skrunkly, blorbo, little fella and also adore and seek angst and whump like maniacs who finds pure pleasure and happinness in putting your favorite character through hell and back, twice even. Then, shall you all enjoy this and write your hearts content. ❤

[sherry-cleo-salvadore]

I actually started watching 9-1-1 around the time Buck become canonically queer.

One of my online friends one day randomly texted me if I have watched the latest 9-1-1 episode - to which I replied no - she told me to watch the show because it's so good, and even I was looking for a new show to get hyperfixated on to get out of some previous hyperfixation.

I fell in love with the show since I started bawling my eyes out on that baby in the drain pipe emergency - the adrenaline rush of it made me stay and helped with my little depression phase in some ways.

Then I started falling in love with the characters, the style of writing, the chemistry in their found family, everything - became totally hyperfixated.

Saw Eddie Diaz in Season 2 and 🥵🔥 - found a new fictional crush and celebrity crush.

I fell in love with the relationships - Bathena, Madney, Henren - they looked so mature and healthy couples compared to more angsty overlty dramatic relationships in fiction that get written for audience viewership and not for the actual story.

And while looking up a YouTube clip of the bar flashback with Bobby, Chimney, Hen and Tommy because I found it funny how Chimney said he has no scars knowing about the rebar storyline written for his character's future and in the comment section got spoiled about Bi! Buck and Tommy becoming his eventual boyfriend.

But that spoiler didn't bother me, in fact it made me more excited to keep watching because while binge-watching it all together, it wasn't hard to forget Tommy as a character compared to when I would have watched the show on air basis - so his arc felt much more organic rather than out of nowhere to me at least. I was excited to see yet another healthy and mature relationship with like dramas that were more realistic than just marketing bullshit.

Reached the first kiss between Buck and Tommy and holy shit - one of the best on screen kisses - like I remember ranting to my friend how I was literally kicking my feet (Buck's Bi! arc was why she texted me out of excitement and urged me to watch the show) because wow and then as the relationship grew I was so happy for both the characters and their relationship - for Buck to finally get an endgame he deserves - a healthy mature relationship that just felt realistic and organic.

And yes I have also had problems with the show over its course but I was able to overlook them given how fixated I got with the characters and their relationships and the whole found family dynamic of it all.

Today - I just, I don't remember ever being so disappointed in a show - maybe the Game of Thrones finale? Idk - like yes that was disappointing but the show ended so I didn't bother with it much. But like - this is just so not it - I don't remember being this devastated by a fictional break up - it literally feels like I had a break up. So much so that a part of me just wants to stop watching the show - but I also can't because I am still invested in where Eddie's arc is going and when and how they are bringing Christopher back.

Maybe I am being a bit melodramatic about this but honestly it feels like a full circle, an invisible string of sorts for me as well, as how Buck and Tommy's kiss was how the universe in its way encouraged me to watch the show and today its the very reason for the first time I felt like I want to stop watching the show and have nothing to do with it.

Funny how the universe works.

[cod-dump]

You have the most autistic mental picture of ghost of any fan blog I've come across. I just waiting for the hc where you have him hyperfixate on a stress toy or a sensory puzzle

I project onto him a lot, it's something that happens to my Blorbos. I either project a shit ton on them or write them in angsty situations.

___

Ghost comes off has a type to love fidget cubes. He has one with buttons that make a very satisfying click. He doesn't even care about the other parts on the cube, just the buttons. He has the cube for so long the buttons stop clicking in such a satisfying way and it bothers him a fuck ton. No one else can tell that they're not clicking the same but him. Others don't see the problem because to them the fidget cube's other sides work just fine. Ghost was pissy about it because he had no idea how to go find another sensory toy that has buttons that click exactly like that one. He can't test them out if he shops online, and where the fuck would he go to buy one?

A couple days of him being without his cube and a box shows up in his office. No label of who it's from, where it's from, or what's inside. Only that it's for him. Ghost was immediately on edge and took the box to Soap so the man could see if there was any explosives in need of disarming. But, instead, the man found that the box was full of fidget cubes. Different styles, brands, and different sides. Ghost was stunned because he knows he didn't buy them. After digging around he found a couple of cubes almost exactly like his old one. He wasn't sure who to thank but he knows they know he greatly appreciates the gift.

He's taken to clicking his new cube in meetings, much to the annoyance of those around him. But there was a couple smiling faces.

[barb-l]

Isn't a writer question but was curious; How does wenclair different from other ships you've enjoyed?

Is it solely due to having been a lifelong Wednesday Addams fan, or is it specifically the Netflix's Addams world that you find intriguing?

I ask mainly because I recall you once saying that your wenclair comics--specifically the Next Gen Au I believe--are written and made with a lot of intention in regards to dialog and the discussions had between characters.

Is this due to a greater insight into the characters or simply a mark of growth in writing comprehension?

I like to think I put as much thought in all ships I've been hyperfixated on tbh. Wenclair isn't even the one I've been obsessed with the longest. So far it's actually Trimberly, for which and I was hyperfixated with for like 3 years.

But yeah ok I get ur point lol The intensity this time feels different, I suppose.

I think it's a mix of both being a long time Wednesday Addams fan and how cute of a ship Wenclair is both in concept and the canon execution of their dynamics.

As some of you are aware, I've been a fan of The Addams for a while now. All incarnations of them are great in their own way, but one of the many reasons why the animated 2019 movie is my favorite is because it didn't give Wednesday a bland ass male love interest. I don't think the B/W series did it(because Wed was like six in that) but the 90's movies, musical, and netflix series for some reason found it necessary to give Wednesday male love interests so painfully boring and i hate it. This isn't even about making Wednesday attracted to boys. I personally headcanon her bi, as the ol' stereotype that all grumpy/angsty female characters must be lesbian isn't my cup of tea, and also because I like to think all Addamses just don't give a shit about gender when it comes to romance. I woulda been fine with her getting a boyfriend so long as they're not boring af and goddddd canon incarnations still haven't delivered. Joel was sweet but he was too much of a wimp, not even Gomez is that pathetic. Lucas' thing with Wednesday was just portrayed in such an icky way in the musical that I couldn't finish watching by the time their sexually charged duet came on, and don't even get me started on the boys Netflix gave her. I expected better of Gough and Millar...(unless the blandness was on purpose like it was with Lana Lang--)

Anyways, because of all said canon love interests, I've been desperate for Wednesday to have a love interest that is both not painfully het or boring for once. Crossover shipping with Lydia Deetz from Beetlejuice the Musical was fun but was ultimately a very niche fandom. I could only draw and write for an audience of twenty or so people for so long. Parker from the animated movie would've been great, but the cop out with her mom dating Fester just made it too weird for me to be fully on board with the ship.

So when Enid Sinclair was introduced as a character I was absolutely ecstatic. On paper alone she already seemed great. She has a very distinct appearance (even if her "design" was inspired by Harlequin and it shows) that goes so well when she stands next to Wednesday, whether it's in the actual show, fan arts, or even in official merch. Her being Wednesday's complete opposite in so many ways makes her being paired with Wednesday so dang interesting too.

And I don't just mean aesthetic or personality wise. I'm talking about how one of Wednesday's struggle stems from having too much smothering love from her family as someone who gets overwhelmed too easily, and Enid's loneliness and insecurity coming from her own family's lack of love and attention where it matters most. Or how Wednesday's just girl who, deep inside worries about being an actual cruel monster like the very bigots she hates, while Enid is a supposed beast who resents herself for only being a scared little girl. Even the fact that Wednesday is an older sister to a soft-hearted younger brother while Enid is the youngest daughter to a bunch of rough-housing older brothers feels very on purpose.

Everything about Enid feels deliberate. Like she IS supposed to be paired with Wednesday, platonically or romantically. She's the best person to stand beside Wednesday as a character because they have enough differences and similarities to have interesting conflicts but also significant character growths sparked by each other. She's not bland or boring like the canon love interests because even without her attachment to Wednesday, Enid is still such a compelling character. The mere fact that she's as popular as she is despite an eight-episode series being her debut in a franchise that's been iconic to generations is already pretty amazing, and only a character as impressive deserves to smooch somebody as iconic as Wednesday Addams.

And their on screen chemistry is just *chef's kiss*

[plounce]

Whats your ace attorney fic recommendations? ^_^

HMMMMMMMM well i am a klaviergirl so this is mostly klapollo/aa4 but here are my recs :3

turnabout toast is a lovely post-aa4 nrmt fic with background klapollo. great "people trying to fix their lives" stuff and WAHHHH edgeworth... also a lot of lovely socal setting stuff (<- socal native, weak for it). phoenix being kind of a bastard but not a bad guy, which i think is fun, because it's interesting.

dirty sympathy, also by the above author. CW for abuse: the premise of the fic is that it's a retelling of aa4 where klavier and apollo are behind the scenes of all the cases collaborating to get rid of each other's abusers (daryan and kristoph, respectively), and trying to keep everything secret. it's a suspenseful read and it's like. crazy. auuughhh. makes me crazy. it's prob my fave aa fic but it takes so much out of me to reread

about him - last rec from this author. the only piece of clay terran fic i have any time for. post-aa5 klapollo sweetness with the outsider pov. so cutes

jamais vu - post-aa6 klapollo get-back-together fic where they hook up at nrmt's wedding

turnabout toilet brush - SO FUN. office farce where WAA argue over who broke the toilet brush. good phoenix pov with fun athena & apollo banter. nrmt and background klapollo

in better light - pacific rim au! trucy & apollo siblingisms, with angsty not-married nrmt, a bit of klapollo, and swag k-scientist ema skye

say it to the crowd - various minor character outsider povs on pre-relationship klapollo. i looooooove outsider pov

notes from the underworld - canon-divergent epistolary bad end aa4 au where MVK kills phoenix and maya with his taser in aa1. only reccing the first in the series since the others weren't to my tastes but the first one. wagh

turnabout from within - an aa5 prequel case! really fun. tries to be a bridge between aa4 and aa5 and is a very fun written version of an AA case. aura is there!! minor klapollo! fun aa pun names!

the thing about forgiveness - trucy and klavier talk post-aa4... wah... performers...

youngblood - daryan pov about his and klavier's relationship. very good... sad bc it's from the pov of a guy who sucks and how the love of his life deserves better than him. good stuff. klapollo endgame bc klavier deserves a decent guy as a bf

turnabout runaway - WAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH it's about post-OT pearl dealing with like. the trauma of all that shit with her family as best an 8yo can - by trying to run away to protect mystic maya :( babby... (this one is written by a good friend of mine :3)

there's some more in my bookmarks but it's been a few years since i read them (my aa hyperfixation was spring/summer 2020) so while they're probably decent reads i can't write blurbs

HAVE FUN HOPE YOU LIKE THEM

(anti-recs under the cut. can't resist some complaining)

(also i genuinely have so much hatred in my heart for the fic with the most kudos in the klapollo ao3 tag, it's tagged for them but they don't actually happen in it, it's a nrmt fic that wildly mischaracterizes klavier and makes him into like. an asshole sexual harasser, and the fic barely even takes the sexual harassment seriously? don't read that one. <- DONT LEAVE MEAN COMMENTS ON IT EITHER, the fic's like 10 years old or smth, don't bug the author)

(also i don't like the 100k word fic "custody" bc iirc 1. i didnt like how they characterized thalassa? 2. white ginger klavier??????????? girl)

[prettyboybuckley]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

tagged by @saybiwithme @bi-buckrights @zainclaw

How many works do you have on ao3?

160

What's your total ao3 word count?

1,070,239

What fandoms do you write for?

I've mostly written for 9-1-1, though I started off with Shameless (6 fics) and I have written some for Teen Wolf (5 fics). There's one 9-1-1 crossover with Schitt's Creek.

Top five fics by kudos:

parents always yelling (telling us to get our acts together)

i just want something to hold on to (and a little of that human touch)

I will come to you (even in my sleep)

open up again (i believe in second chances)

exes and the oh's

Do you respond to comments?

Always, even if it takes me months. I actually just caught up again (there's still a bunch to go, but right now the oldest is 17 days ago instead of 250 days...). It's just a rule I have for myself, and even with the backlog I've kept it up so far, so I'm not going to stop doing it now.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I'm not a big fan of angsty endings, I generally try to at least make it a hopeful ending or, in the case of the college au, use an epilogue to fix things.

But I guess sunny skies & summer highs qualifies as an angsty ending simply because of the cliffhanger (and yes, there is still going to be a continuation, I'm working on it 🙈).

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Choosing one out of 160 is really hard, but I think tell me, will you stay or will you run away is definitely one that deserves a mention here, because it already has a happy ending and then the epilogue just makes it even better 🥰

Do you get hate on fics?

Not commented on the fic itself, no. I've had some people talk shit about my fics on twitter, though, and not even vaguely but calling me by (user)name.

Do you write smut?

Is grass green? Yeah, I write smut 🤭 Thanks to two times kinktober, I have 95 explicit fics, by far the most used rating for my fics.

Craziest crossover:

let's have some fun tonight is my 9-1-1/Schitt's Creek crossover fic for 9-1-1 Rarepair Week, and my only crossover fic

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

My head over feet Buddie valentine's two-parter got posted as one chapter in Wattpad work with over 30 fics once. Filed a DMCA and Wattpad took it down within two hours.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Two of my fics have been translated into Russian afaik, one on ao3 and one on Ficbook

Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Nope. It may be a nice challenge for the future? Not sure who I'd do it with.

All time favourite ship?

Gotta go for Buddie on that one, lol. Especially if you look at my writing history. But I often tend to hyperfixate on one ship at a time (current reading obsession is McDanno)

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Buck's POV of if love is art then you might be my masterpiece. I really want to, but at this point it's been two years since the original so I don't know if it'd be worth it either. (I know not everyone was happy about how I ended it, but I doubt any of them are still waiting for more). Writing a different POV of the same fic takes an amount of planning that my brain just really struggles with. And I could pick up where the last chapter (before the epilogue) picks up, but I think that way there would be some crucial information about Buck missing.

What are your writing strengths?

I've been told quite a lot of times that I am good at keeping characters, well, in character, even when putting them in partial or complete AU's. Of course, what is in character or not is subjective, but I do always challenge myself to work as much of the canon backstory and personality into who they are in the AU as possible.

And I like to think I'm pretty good at writing smut.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm terrible at pacing, which multiple of my long fics prove. It'll be drawn out first and then suddenly rushing. And being ESL I do struggle with things like sentence structure and grammar pretty regularly still.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

As long as there is some kind of translation provided somewhere I like it, but I'm not so quick to use it myself. Not beyond a few Spanish words here and there (generally pet names between Eddie and his family we've seen on the show or the occasional curse word when I feel it fits better than an English one, but I usually need to employ help from Spanish-speaking friends for those).

First fandom you wrote in?

Shameless! I binged that right before I started 9-1-1 and combined with the creative writing minor I was doing, it was actually what got me back into writing in general and what made me write my first ever fic.

Favorite fic you've written?

My in your arms i feel safe-series (which I always lovingly refer to as the ace kink fic) is definitely one of my favorites simply because of how personal it is to me and for the reason behind me writing it in the first place.

Other strong contenders are i would've loved you forever (it's never enough but i wanted it to be) and i'm begging you, come home to me (Teen Wolf, Thiam)

tagging @monsterrae1 @rogerzsteven @loserdiaz @watchyourbuck

[autisticlancemcclain]

thank u @zenstrike for the tag <333333333 i see ur mic and i'm elated about it

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

185! but i haven't updated in like a week and a half so we're probably closer to 190

2. what’s your total ao3 word count?

556,104. i am very excited to watch it jump up when i finally finish my longfic teehee

3. what fandoms do you write for?

literally just voltron lol. well not counting baby me's wattpad lol. i started writing almost two years ago and just went ham basically. i've been intentionally avoiding things that i know i will get hyperfixated on bc i don't want to stop my writing obsession lol

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

ooooou i'm excited to check. i know it's changed quite a bit over time. i usually sort them by hits!

i will grind you to sand (beneath my louboutin heels) [voltron, 2573 words]: bamf lance fic where i give him a revolver and let him go ham basically

mr. snuggles [voltron, 1656 words]: one of my very earliest fics! lance, lover of weirdo animals, finds a demonic cat-sized spider and adopts it despite his friend's freakouts

he might not look like he gets bitches (but honey that dick was eleven inches) [voltron, 1136 words]: this one is so dorky lol but it's just secret relationship klance coming to light in the most embarrassing possible way

does anyone know where the love of god goes (when the waves turn the minutes to hours) [voltron, 4283]: a canon divergence au where lance is a seer and convinces the skeptics on his team of his abilities by ending the war

this is the part of me that you're never gonna ever get away) [voltron, 3262 words]: a lance & shiro hurt/comfort with a small autistic lance character study! i'm very proud of this one

5. do you respond to comments?

i definitely do on tumblr! it's one of the first things i do when i wake up actually. on ao3, though...i'm pretty sure i have about eight hundred unanswered comments sitting in my inbox 💀 it's an ongoing issue

6. what’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i'm almost sure it's this post-game show lance leaving fic, because i got comments and asks for weeks begging me to write a happy ending lol. but this fic from the hana universe, from when keith is little and shiro is fighting for custody and they haven't figured things out yet. that one is sad. this dream pov adashi fic is also sad and has no happy ending bc, you know. shiro is in space and adam thinks he's dead and everything. my loneliest series is also still in progress and as such there is no happy ending. and this is my earliest angsty-ending fic with MCD

7. what’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

oh god pretty much everything i write has a happy ending?? if i’m being serious?? frankly i don’t do a lot of linear plot. i just write Scenes that are vaguely connected. BUT my h2o fic had a plot that ended happily, as did my cowboy fic, but truly i’m more of a slice of life kinda gal. all my active wips are plot-driven, though, and i plan for all of them to end happily.

8. do you get hate on fics?

oh god yeah. i get it on brown eyed lance, autistic lance, adhd keith, allura just in general (are you sensing a pattern), my refusal to use readmores, and lately just some demands for me to write differently/more?? most of it is just funny so i post it to goof on it lol, but some of it i just delete and pout about until i forget about it 💀

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

yes and it’s nasty and i will literally never ever post it. although i guess i’ve written some softer stuff that’s more allusion than anything, like in my loneliest series.

10. do you write crossovers? what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

not anymore, but i did when i was a kid?? i think i wrote a pjo/hoo/divergent/the mortal instruments/homestuck/a bunch of other shit fic when i was 13. i’ve successfully blocked that era out of my mind tho so i’m not sure. i do a lot of insane aus, tho. i wrote a fic based off a country song written in the sixties. so.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

i’ve had people write continuations of my wips?? which i didn’t rly like. i just ignored it.

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

someone has asked me about translating a fic before! haven’t heard anything since tho.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

i have tried. i’m not very good at it. i have very Specific ideas about things and can be very controlling, so it’s honestly better that i don’t lol.

14. what’s your all-time favorite ship?

klance, easy. been in the trenches of this goddamn fandom since i was 13 years of age. it’s been a Journey.

15. what’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

god, the butterfly effect. i get people asking me to update all the time and i genuinely feel bad, because i have absolutely no ideas or plans for it. i might try to come up with an ending of some kind?? but i wrote that like two years ago, so i have changed a LOT about my writing since then.

16. what are your writing strengths?

dialogue and humour, i think. and sometimes writing lack of emotional communication (if that makes sense — i like to try and write around an emotion).

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

i over explain a lot. and i overuse dialog ur tags sometimes. i have a Very Specific scene playing out in my head and i want everyone else to see it like i’m seeing it, which is my downfall a lot. i’ve been trying to work on implicit stage directions.

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

i think sometimes it’s necessary? it can be a good tool for humour, like with cussing that can’t be achieved in english. but while i understand and read several languages i have always always struggled to speak or write in them. it’s very frustrating so i often avoid the subject entirely lol.

19. first fandom you wrote for?

i’ve been writing fanfic in my head since before i knew what it was, but i started typing things at around 11 when i used to homestuck roleplay with my friends lol. messy messy times.

20. favorite fic you’ve ever written?

oh i am my own target audience. i have several.

i need a man (who’s patient and kind): keith-centric post canon (divergence) fic where lance takes him to his family and keith is good with kids and just keith being loved is the whole point. always.

what if i lose it all: an alternate universe where lance, as a baby, loses both his parents, and then is raised by his oldest siblings. in luis’ pov.

when does a ripple become a tidal wave (when does the reason become the flame): brogane fight & angst canon divergence post season 6; covering shiro’s guilt complex and keith’s unwavering loyalty

he’s into superstitions (black cats and voodoo dolls): halloween verse with witch lance and vampire keith! i have barely spoken about this au on here but rest assured i’m thinking about it all the fucking time

the applebee’s universe: modern au with young keith and lance learning how to love each other

ceilings (plaster): non-linear dream-like fic that’s just so trippy and strange i’m obsessed with it

if the sky comes falling down (for you) there’s nothing in this world i wouldn’t do: a keith character study about how the biggest bleeding heart in the universe loves

the hana universe: brogane-centric universe as their family starts rocky and grows

thank u again for the tag zen <33 open offer for anyone else who would like to hop on!!

[sil-te-plait-tue-moi]

Let's settle down for the night.

Quick summary: You’ve been each other’s for a long time. You trust him with your life, your body, you time, and he trusts you with his. Sometimes, though, you find yourself craving a quieter kind of intimacy. Without the helmet.

Word count: 6.3K

Warnings: A lot of fluff 😩😩; may be inaccurate ‘cause, I gotta say, I’m a Star Wars fan but I did not proper hyperfixate on it like with some of the other stuff I’ve written about (buffs, please help me out here); kind of angsty??? like, reader’s an orphan etc; allusions to smut (under the shirt stuff amiright amiright); explicit mentions of smut.

A/N: What a fittie, guys. Bound to happen. This one goes out to @manicdream for giving me a lil’ prompt where you and Din are in looove aaaand—I guess you’ll have to keep reading for the fluuuff and feels! I really had fun with this one! Love this stoic, brooding, dramatic lad, and I enjoyed exploring love languages, their communication, etc, etc. i have no idea when this would take place, so just try to follow along, I guess??? I hope you enjoy this short, little story! I think this is gonna be just one part by the way. For all you Pedro Pascal sluts out there 😌😌😌, I do think I’m gonna write a smut thing for Joel Miller TLOU. NO PROMISES, THOUGH. Just finished the latest episode and what the fuck 😀😀😀 it just gets more and more traumatising huh. Anyway, please enjoy this happy fic!

ੈ✩‧₊˚

We’ve been walking for a while, now. Muscles aching, legs straining. The low, sloping sands of the Tatooine desert are pink in the setting suns, stretching on for years and years. 

The light flames up brilliant red and orange and bright white in his beskar, and I have to squint my eyes when I look over at him. From this angle, he looks like he’s all armour. When the suns finally go down, he’ll be a silhouette. That time of day always suits him best. You know how people you meet just seem like things sometimes. Din’s like rich soil, the kind that you can sink your fingers deep into with one single push. Or like a rock – with how little he talks, I used to think he was a rock. He’s also dusk. Dusk happens to be my favourite time of day. 

My feet are dragging again. If I were with anyone else, I’d never let my guard down—but it’s just us, and we’re in the middle of nowhere, and we’ve got a whole bunch of credits in my pack that’s almost enough to finally buy us our own ship. Won’t have to put up with sceptical glances on commercial flights anymore, or getting bashed about by produce on cargo ships we’ve had to sneak onto. Maker, I miss the comfort of the Razor Crest. But, y’know, it’s—it’s what it is. Lucky for us, transportation is the worst of our problems – it’s been a relatively quiet trip over the planet; no trouble—yet. Quietly trading with sketchy contractors in isolated taverns. We never ask questions about the high-paying ones, whether we’re implicitly tipping the scales of some political bantha shit, but I’m always curious.

A dry gust of wind cools my stifling skin, a break from the still weather.

“You alright back there?”

Din has his head angled slightly back towards me. His grainy, modulated voice curves my mouth up into a smile, and I stare fondly over at him as he slows his pace a little to fall into step with me. I urge him not to slack with the jerk of my head.

“Yeah, ‘f’course,” I assure him, tongue buzzing with foul saliva. Can’t drink just yet, though, ‘cause I already chugged about half of my waterskin way back at sun-up. He’s offered me the rest of his, but I refused to take it. Though, right now, grimacing at the bile in my mouth, I am thinking hard about changing my mind. “We’re safe,” I say confidently. We’ve been careful.

“I know.” Yeah, I know he knows. “I was just wonderin’ cause, y’know, you’ve been a little quiet.”

Playfully, I nudge into him (damn that beskar) and laugh as he shoves me back. “What, so you’re saying you want my ‘mindless chit-chatting’ back now, huh?”

I’m talking out of my ass, of course. We’ve had a thing going for a while, now – it’s been just us for a while. I know he doesn’t mean any harm when he teases me like that. It takes a lot for him to hurt my feelings, and he never does. Maybe at first, when neither of us would admit that we were happier being together than apart. I don’t know why I didn’t just tag along with him sooner. If I had known that those gruff, little grunts he’d make during conversation when we’d cross paths during jobs meant that he was enjoying himself?—well, I wouldn’t have wasted so much time in asking him to be my partner. In all senses.

But still, he feels the need to explain: “Ah, you know I was just—”

“Yeah, yeah.”

I suppose that, after so long needing to be strong and tough and brave and coarse to get on with life and work, he likes being soft. This is soft for him: letting me walk ahead just slightly, his shoulder behind mine, so that he’s always got my six; teasing me about things he’s told me are his favourite qualities of mine; secretly watching me from behind the security of his visor. I don’t tell him I love it, and I don’t tell him I notice, but he knows, I think.

He turns away to complete a quick scan of the horizon on his blind side, and I do the same for mine, before we turn back to each other. He’s tired – I can tell by the way he’s leaning in towards me, like he wants to be held. The privacy of this big, wide desert must be a comfort to him. I know it is to me.

“How’s your day been?” he asks me lowly.

I laugh. “You mean the day we’re currently spending together?”

He nods. “Tell me about it.”

Stars, I’m glad it’s getting dark, because my cheeks start to glow with warmth. Not necessarily just his voice or even the words. Consistently, he always asks about my day. Yesterday, it was in a dingy tavern, after avoiding a bar fight (some prick tried to trick me out of a drink the contractor bought me fair ‘n’ square). The day before, it was in the dead of night, looking up at the stars, with the bounty, unconscious, lying between us.

“I liked it.” He scoffs. “I did. There’s been no trouble, and, y’know, I grew up on a desert planet like this.”

“Bantha farmers, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

He grunts.

I laugh again. “You bastard! You’re so judgemental. Honestly worse than those Coruscanti pricks we worked for ages back. Remember how they looked at us when we traded? Tried to underpay us? Bet they’ve never risked even chipping a nail.” Bounty hunting is a little more difficult these days without the assurance of carbonite freezing, without the security of the Guild – we’ve had to complete ten times as many jobs for five times lesser rates just to get where we are now. Reminds me of when I first started out: bounties fighting back, trying to make a run for it. But what else are we supposed to do?—take up a job where?

The suns slip below the horizon, and everything is washed a low, gentle violet—and Din is that silhouette, now, and everything seems peaceful, like it all fits together just right. Even though, of course, it might not fit together just right when I try to haggle the price of that gunship down a few credits or so and the vendor absolutely obliterates me with the most personal, cutting insults in the entire galaxy. Din’s no help in the communication sector there – the stoic type – but, if anything, he’ll be able to stand behind me with that armour and steel glare and weapons of his to try and intimidate that damn stubborn seller all the way to fuckin’ Bargain Town. Because, damn, we’re relying on it. Peli, bless her soul, doesn’t have anything large or powerful enough to support the three of us on our run from the Empire.

Speaking of the three of us, the kid’s absence, I hate to say it, is kind of nice. Of course, I worry about him, but I trust that he’s being well-looked-after at the garage. Safer than he would be with us. But I haven’t had Din to myself in what seems like years. Last time he touched me was—was—a long time ago. Too much stress. Not enough time to savour it. And he’s all about savouring those kind of things, those moments, dragging them out as long as possible.

I can feel his stare on the side of my face. My sweaty, greasy, clogged face – stars, I can’t wait until we reach a water supply.

“Are you looking at me right now?” I ask, amused.

He does another strategically-timed scan of the area, turning away from me even though I can’t see his face. I wonder if he blushes under that helmet, if it’s really obvious. “You’re looking at me.”

I roll my eyes and smile softly, lowering the scarf around my nose and mouth and tucking the fabric beneath my chin. “How was your day?”

“Good.”

“Good why?”

“‘Cause I’ve got your mindless chit-chattin’ to keep me company.”

Forcing a laugh, I glare at him again. “Ha-ha, you’re so funny, Din. Real knee-slapper right there.”

It goes quiet again – he becomes like that, sometimes, after I use his name. The first time I spoke it was in the dark hull of the Razor Crest, in hyperspace. He sat and stared straight ahead at the streaking silver, motionless, wordless. Here, the desert air is still and calm. His shoulder is still brushing up against mine.

“Are you tired?”

Yes. My legs feel like they’re about to fuckin’ fall off. Here, walking along the plain, is good, but earlier, climbing over dunes and rocks and boulders, was hell. But we need to be getting back to the kid as soon as possible. As much as I trust Peli, I need to see him and make sure he’s okay. So, I shake my head and say, “It’s only a little ways up till the next settlement.”

“It’s a lot further.”

My heart drops. “Oh.” Wishful thinking’s just got me forging fake memories at this point. My knees threaten to buckle beneath me.

“D’you think we should stop?”

“No, we can—”

“I’m tired—” he abruptly comes to a halt, apparently deciding that this little patch of sand will be a nice bed, “—let’s stop for the night.” He beckons me to him, coming in close and retrieving the lamp from inside the sling-bag, setting it down.

Well, if he insists.

You know, it’s moments like these where I just let myself be fond of him. I let myself stare freely at him, admire the shape of his body, the sleek, smart make of his helmet, let myself wonder if his face is any bit as handsome as he sounds. Everything about him is rough. The way he fights, the way he bargains, the way he pilots. His hands. I think about the texture of his hands as I sit down. I remove my gloves and stuff them away, gliding my skin across my skin to just try and simulate that touch.

“You’re not cold?”

I untwine the bag from my shoulders, setting it down and retrieving our remaining food for this day. “I’m not cold. I have, like, five layers on.”

He eyes me doubtfully. “Okay.” And he sits down on the opposite side of the lamp, facing me, one leg propped up as a rest for his arm. The pulse rifle lays by his side, ready.

I offer him a hardening clump of bread and a few stout, odd-looking, white-and-purple vegetables (generously given to us by a farmer we passed a while back)—but Din shakes his head and urges me to eat as much as I can. I bite back a remark about that helmet of his – he must be starving.

“We’ll get something better to eat when we get to the city.”

I snort. “It’s hardly a city.”

“You know what I mean.”

Stupid Din always making stupid decisions and rationalising them because he thinks it’s for me. He knows I can take care of myself, that I’m good at it, but that doesn’t stop him from dropping everything to try. It’s nice for someone to have my back, for that someone to be as wonderful as him, but, holy kriff, he’s so stupid sometimes.

I tell him flat-out, “We don’t have enough credits,” because we don’t. We have barely enough to cover a scrappy, little ship. We definitely don’t have enough to purchase any food. We’ve relied on favours and luck for long enough, and we can go for longer until we’re off-planet. Peli’s got—edible food—probably. I don’t trust it won’t make me shit my brains out as soon as we’re in hyperspace, though.

He shrugs like it’s no big deal, though. “We’ll get a worse ship.”

“Din.” Stupid. I toss him a chunk of bread, swivelling around to give him privacy.

He protests, “I’m not hungry,” and reaches over and taps it against my shoulder – I shrug him away.

“I’m already stuffed, so what’re you gonna do about it?”

He sighs in exasperation. “Thought you might say that.”

“‘Cause I’m just so predictable?”

“You’re stubborn.”

Snapping my head over my shoulder, I scoff and give him an incredulous look. “I’m stubborn?”

He tilts his head to the side as if to goad me further. “Yes.” The warm light of the lamp glows along the strong planes and clean lines of his armour. His hand leisurely dangling from his knee, he rubs his gloved fingers together, and I’m suddenly jealous of a clothing item. I know he must notice the slight catch in my breath.

I turn back around to face him, the sand moulding easily beneath my smooth movements. “And there’s not a brooding Mandalorian sitting across from me now, refusing to eat.”

The first few years of working with Din, I never once saw him eat or drink a thing. It was like he was a droid (don’t tell him I said that): always working, working hard, but fuelled by seemingly—nothing? Obviously, I figured he had to eat some time. When I became his partner, sharing the Razor Crest, he’d retreat to his bunk to eat. And when I asked him his favourite food, he said he didn’t really hate or love anything – as long as he could consume it and it wouldn’t kill him, he’d tolerate it. Over the years, though, I’ve learned he tries to steer clear from any kind of berries. Doesn’t trust ‘em. And he’s not a fan of fish, but the kid is, and I am, so we have it more often, now.

Din jerks his head and allows me to toss him one of those weird vegetables. Having already finished my chunk of bread (on the brink of mould—so yummy!), I take a large, eager bite right out of the vegetable. My mouth is flooded with its bitter juice, and I squint my face up a little at the greenish tang.

“How’s that taste?” he asks.

“Like dirt.” I chew the mouthful slowly, careful not to judge too quickly, and eventually hum in contentment. “But—” I retract, “—sorta sweet underneath. You ever tasted a beet?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s sorta like that.”

He watches me for a few heartbeats, calm in the steady, amber light. I smile at him.

“Turn around,” he tells me brusquely.

I wink at him and do as I’m told, shuffling around again and turning to back the blue and purple horizon, the lamp and his gaze warm on my back.

I’m silent as he unseals his helmet with a quiet click and hiss. I try to imagine him again. Every single time, I feel guilty over it, because I know how dedicated he is to his religion—but, oh, I can’t help myself. I run my tongue over my teeth, enjoying the remains of that bite, before taking another, crunching down into the flesh. As I do, I hear Din do the same. My heart stops a little in my chest, and I let out a slow breath.

“It’s nice.”

Stars. Stars, that voice. His voice, unfiltered by the modulator. Slightly hoarse from lack of water, scraping a little in his throat, but smooth in its low, rich tone. Like dirt you can sink your fingers right down into.

I set my hand flat on the sand my by side before pushing them vertically down, down, down, past the cooling surface and to where the glowing spirit of the day lingers.

Calm yourself down. It’s just a voice.

“You should have the rest of it,” he continues, and there’s the tap of the vegetable against my shoulder again.

Oh, stars. He hasn’t got his helmet on. He hasn’t got his helmet on. If I turned, he could be right there. Just him. I think about clamping my eyes shut to avoid the temptation of looking at him, but I can’t really co-ordinate myself at the moment. He taps again, encouraging me to take it back. My fingers hook up inside the sand, and it slips around me to my satisfaction.

“If you like it,” I say dryly, “you should eat it.”

The vegetable disappears from my peripheral. Another crunch, and another, and another. We sit in silence as he finishes it. The horizon is finally flat and unwavering in the cool of the night.

He gives my shoulder a squeeze when he’s done, hiking up the scarf around my head so it doesn’t slip too far over my hair. When I turn around, the helmet’s back on.

I wonder if he saw the colours of the sunset earlier. I had my head turned up for hours, watching every single shift in pink and orange and blue with wonderstruck eyes—but Din was striding on ahead, uninterested. I’m no engineer, alright? I don’t exactly know what he’s seeing in that helmet of his, or why. Infrared sensors for tracking, like in a rifle I once had that – that was one of the best damn weapons I ever owned, guaranteed to locate and hit your target, and I loved it to bits—until it got fuckin’ stolen by a bunch of fuckin’ Jawas. Point is, isn’t it just black and white in there? Sort of a purple-y black and white, and you can see changes in tone and depth and all, but black and white nonetheless. Red for footprints, though. Is that what he saw when I told him to look at the sky at sundown? Black and white? What is he seeing as he’s looking at me now? Me, I’m admiring the regal gleam of his beskar again. But he won’t be able to interpret the warmth of the lamp’s light on my face the same way as I did for him. I’m not the prettiest in the galaxy by a long shot, I know, but isn’t he missing out? On the beauty of the natural world? I think I’m prettiest at sundown – something in my undertone, I dunno – but he’s only seen me in that greyscale. Imagine if he just thinks I’m—okay-looking.

Overthinking it again. Din doesn’t waste time with things he doesn’t think add to his life. He doesn’t think I’m just okay-looking.

“You’ve got a good voice,” I tell him, grinning widely.

“You’ve heard my voice before.” The raw clarity of his words are lost once again behind the modulator. I shift my position, wriggling away from my disappointment.

“I know.”

A chill passes brightly through the air, and I tug my cloak tighter around myself, bringing my knees in close. Din doesn’t move a muscle, though, and he sits there and observes me a little longer.

We’ve been each other’s for a long, long time. We’ve been through a lot of shit together. And I’m not exactly thinking critically, and I’m not sure where I’m going with it, but I find myself asking, “When Mandalorians get married, they can take their helmets off around their partner, right?”

The mortification immediately sets in.

Holy kriff.

Din looks at me carefully. Then, he nods the slightest of nods.

Holy kriff.

“I’m not—” I stutter out, eyes darting away, over there, over here, anywhere but his constant, steady, shameless attention, “—‘m not asking you to marry me, Din. I was—I was just wondering ‘cause, y’know, I think you mentioned it to me once, ages back, and—and I was just thinkin’ that maybe—” you pause, glancing up at him; he doesn’t move a muscle, and there’s nothing that gives away any kind of anything he might be feeling, “—maybe I’d like to see—what—you—look—like.”

Wow. Wow, I’m almost amazed at how slick I am with these things. God, Imperial spies could learn a thing or two from the master.

I clear my throat, deciding to embrace the grave I’ve dug for myself. “But I’m not asking you to marry me, so you can stop looking at me like that, now, alright?.”

He says nothing, does nothing.

I situate myself with untying my waterskin from beneath my cloak, hiding my face in my shoulder and cursing, “Damn voice. Gets me too damn stupid-excited,” under my breath, like it’s a secret, like he can’t hear every fuckin’ word I’m saying on a planet seemingly stripped from all other noise.

Seething at myself, I crunch back into my vegetable, then tearing off a piece of bread to stuff in alongside it, taking a careless swig from my waterskin to wash it all down. Honestly, at this point, I’d rather die from dehydration than address the awful, awful statement I just made. Stars. Probably scared him right off. We’re as close to married as the real thing anyway. Din’s more of an actions-over-words kind of guy – I don’t need to call him my husband. It’s not like—well, marriage is companionship, and we have that already. Marriage is trust, and we have that already. I don’t need to call him my husband. He’s just—my guy. My person. Would be nice to have it on paper, I guess. Proof that he’s my person, that he wants to be my person. Bless him, but for every single thing he does for me, every action, I still crave him saying those words. Not shit to do with marriage, exactly. Just: “You’re my person. I’m yours.” Words aren’t his forte.

“I’d marry you.”

I swallow the hard lump of bread with difficulty, scrunching my face up into a grimace. “Hmm?” I ask, drifting back to the present.

“I’d marry you,” he repeats, and my eyes go wide. Oh. “Right here. If you want me.”

Huh. Huh. I dunno what the appropriate reaction is here, so I just continue staring unblinkingly at him. My stomach is erupting in flutters, and I just stare at Din.

Then, I look around us, at the barren desert. And look, yeah, I grew up on a planet very similar to Tatooine, and, yeah, sure, I have fond memories of my childhood. And then they get not-so fond. I scrunch my nose up in disapproval. “Not here.”

“Where?”

I shrug, brows knitted together in deep consideration. “I dunno.” And I really don’t, because—because I didn’t think we were the marrying type. Just the together type. Growing old and pissy together, living together, fighting together, figuring it out together—type. Mandalorians value community and strength and The Way over everything else – not necessarily love. Didn’t take him for the marrying type.

I screw my mouth together and exhale deeply. “Just somewhere prettier, I guess,” I decide on. “Not this quiet, but still pretty quiet. Y’know, somewhere with trees. Proper, green trees. But not the kind where there’s stuff in there waiting to kill you.” I want there to be as many colours as possible, in the sky, in the flowers, so he can see me and see all that beauty all together at once.

He tilts his head. “Like, with mountains?” he asks.

I smile. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind mountains.”

He glances down at the sand, tracing some kind of pattern into it with his forefinger. “We could go to Takodana?”

Stars. My smile widens. Stars, is this a proposal? Did I just propose to him? Did he just propose right back? That’s actually quite funny, that is. In the middle of nowhere, running out of water, running low on food. Romantic.

“Have you ever kissed anyone, Din?” I ask, more confident.

He grunts and shakes his head. “Not really.”

“‘Not really’,” I mock him, deepening my voice and attempting to widen the shoulders. I laugh at my own impression, leaning back on my hands and huffing a strand of hair out of my face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shifts, clearing his throat and adjusting to a more comfortable position. “I mean, I’ve kissed you—between your legs,” he tells me, nervous, like I’ve managed to forget how well he treats me, how eager he is to kneel down in the pitch-black and take care of me like that.

Heat blooms in my stomach. “Great work down there, by the way,” I tell him through a sly grin.

“Thank you, mesh’la.” Is he blushing? Does he blush? I find myself wondering over that again.

I smile and stare at him.

“Could I kiss you?” The suggestion just slips out without a second thought. I just think that, after some food and water and rest, I don’t really have to filter anything out anymore. I don’t have any complaints – just some recommendations for fun we could be having.

Din doesn’t reply.

Ah, shit. Shit, what the fuck is wrong with me? Mandalorian, remember? Stupid, stupid. If there’s anything anyone knows about Din, it’s that he’s a Mandalorian first. He’s a Mandalorian before he’s mine – he’d never say it out loud, but we both know it’s true. I’d never ask him to choose because that’s cruel. Am I being cruel?

Either way, I can’t seem to stop, and I don’t seem to care: “I’d keep my eyes shut,” I blurt out, trying to keep my breathing from becoming heavy with lust, and failing a little more than a little bit. Stars, I’m turning myself on at this point; he just has to sit there and look pretty. “You know I’d keep ‘em shut. I wouldn’t look. I just—wanna—” you sigh, “—I just wanna kiss you. It’s nice, I swear. Nice feeling. I’d keep my eyes closed. Or—or you could tie something around ‘em?”

He doesn’t reply.

“Stars,” I curse. “I’m sorry.” I wipe my eyes from dust and dirt and blink hard. “I think I’m just tired.”

“You’re tired?”

“Yeah.”

“Is ‘tired’ why you’re pressing onto yourself down there?”

He flicks his fingers over to where I’ve got my hand stuffed between my legs, rocking softly against the heel of my palm. I swallow hard. Fuck, I didn’t even notice I was doing that. I convinced myself I was—ha!—I was just warming up my hands.

I shift my eyes sheepishly back up to meet Din’s, guilty as charged.

He sighs deep from within the chest. “You keep ‘em closed and we tie something around ‘em.”

Silent, I nod in agreement. My thighs squeeze together.

He jerks his head to beckon me over, and I go shuffling on over to him on my knees, probably looking like a right idiot, but, then again, I don’t really give a fuck because I’m about to kiss Din Djarin. I’m about to kiss my Mandalorian. I’m about to kiss my companion of almost a decade, more if you count all those shady bounties we used to end up competing for. My Mandalorian, my Din Djarin, mine, mine, mine. I’m not possessive, I don’t think, but, gods, I—I—I can’t believe it sometimes. That I get to know him like this. That I get to know such an incredible person. That he won’t say more than two words at a time to anyone, not even those we’re close with, like Peli—but, with me, he’ll talk for hours. He jokes that he’s just humouring me, but I know he loves it. He tells me so.

Din makes a motion with his hand to turn around, so I do, and I let him tie an old, folded food cloth around my head – unsanitary, sure, but, again, I don’t care, and my head’s reeling, and my heart’s racing so hard, thrumming in my ears, and he’s so close, and his fingers are tangling through my hair as he lowers my scarf, and they’re brushing against the nape of my neck now, and—

“Can you take your gloves off, Din?” I ask, and, unfortunately, the neediness seeps right through my voice. “Please?” Stars, I’m pathetic.

Behind me, there’s the shuffle and quiet groan of leather as he tugs them off, and then a quiet pat! as he tosses them to the side.

And then his hands are back. Rough, calloused fingertips ghosting over my ears, my hair, as he knots the cloth, then knots it again for good measure. Darkness is closed over my eyes, tinged the rich green of the fabric. My breath seems nearer this way, short, shallow, hot. I gnaw on the inside of my cheek, still, as he cups the back of my neck, his touch cool.

I reach over my shoulder, taking a deep inhale as I run my fingers over the dips and hills of his knuckles. I fold my hands over his and squeeze, bringing them forward and kissing his fingertips gently. I feel the texture and thickness of his fingers, trace the lines of his palm. Din comes in close behind me, the solidity of his chestplate (cuirass? I dunno, once, he got all pissy ‘cause I didn’t call by it’s actual name) pressing up against my shoulder blades.

I smooth my thumbs along the deepest crease in his palm. “Y’know, once, before I met you, I met someone who told me he could foretell my whole life, and my child’s life, and their child’s life, just from the lines on my hands.”

“Oh, yeah?” His voice is right in my ear, low and intimate. Maker. “What do mine say?”

“All good things,” you reply shakily.

“Anything about Takodana?”

He twists his hand over, enveloping my right and rubbing circles into the back of it.

Then, he’s letting me go, leaning away—and there’s that hiss and click of him removing his helmet. I blink against the green cloth, my eyelashes dragging up slowly. If I hold my breath, I can hear him breathing.

“Turn around,” he tells me, and I do.

It’s too dark for silhouettes anymore. If we were in daylight again, maybe I could’ve seen the vaguest outline of him. But we’re not in daylight. I blink again against the cloth, hard.

His hands reach out and grasp my hips, and they’re warm and large and I never get used to it. The breath is still knocked out of my chest. He angles and adjusts me to face him, and I place my hands on his shoulders, fumbling around his armour before settling them instead on his neck.

His neck. Bare skin. I smooth my hand up the column of his pretty, perfect neck, feeling every inch of him. I already know the texture of his hair. When he’s between my legs and kissing me there, I like to thread my fingers through it. It’s thick and wavy and slightly too long. But otherwise, I keep my hands to myself. Even though I’m not technically seeing him in the dark when he takes his helmet off to taste me, I don’t reach out and touch his face—because it’s his. It’s his, and he’s taken an oath to keep it that way. He’s never initiated a kiss, so I’ve never asked. I’ve been content. I’ve been patient.

But I guess my patience has reached a limit. Slowly, tentatively, I drift my touch up, up, and feel along his jawline, coarse with longer scruff. His breath hitches, and I smile and continue. I smooth my fingers right along his cheekbone – Din gently circles his hand around my wrist, pressing his nose into my palm, then kissing it, soft, careful, dragging the tip of his nose along the line of the vein that trails over my arm.

Stars.

I blink hard again behind the green cloth, clenching my jaw down till my teeth grit together.

I feel along the jagged bridge of his nose, take note of how it’s slightly crooked to the right, like he’s broken it before (wouldn’t surprise me). I learn the shape of his brow, the broadness of his forehead. I feel the feather-light brush of his eyelashes against my wrist. I’m silent—and I’m grinning like an idiot, because what else can I do? It’s like I’m seeing his face. I’m not, but it’s sure as hell the closest thing. The weight of his head in my hands, the cautious squeeze of his hands on my arms. I whisper some kind of babbling, incoherent request, and he relaxes his eyes – I can feel the muscles in his face release tension – for me to trace my middle finger over the shape of his eye. I’m not crying, but, fuck, it’s getting a little moist up in this blindfold.

His eyes droop down slightly at the ends. I like eyes like that – kind eyes. My mother used to say these types of eyes only belonged to the kindest of people. Stars. Don’t cry.

“You look insane, mesh’la,” he whispers, close to me, lifting his hands to tenderly hold my face, like I might break.

“Ah, bantha shit, baby,” I retort. “You’re loving this.”

And I can feel him smile. I can feel it crinkle up the sides of his eyes, and I can feel the squint of them, and the way his cheeks lift. He smiles a little lop-sidedly, actually, the left corner of his mouth just a touch higher than the right. I try to memorise every single bit of information I discover, as urgent and as desperate as if my life depended upon it.

Quivering with want, I press my lips to the inner corner of his eye, firm and sure and needy, my hands grasping around his face. Din grabs fistfuls of my cloak, bringing me nearer to him.

He smells like dust and tastes like sweat and salt, but, Maker, this is good. Satisfies some deep, hellacious ache that would have otherwise consumed me.

I kiss the ridge of his cheekbone with the same fervour, and then I kiss the corner of his mouth, the left side, the side that quirks up when he smiles.

Only, he’s not really smiling right now. He’s breathing heavily, almost panting, and stroking my hair away from my face and neck before mumbling out, “So pretty.” I press my nose against his, breathless with anticipation, heady at the warmth of his body. “S’good. You look so good—like this. Y’look good all the time—”

But I’m kissing him already, frantic, fingers pressing into the back of his neck, into his shoulders, bringing him as near to me as humanly possible. I sob dryly as he reciprocates, nudging his nose flat against my cheek. He opens his mouth to suck in a breath, and I lick into him, taste him deeply, practically having climbed into his lap during my whirlwind pursuit. His cold hands slip under my cloak, arms wrapping around me in a second.

The kiss is dry and rough, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. It seems befitting of him somehow.

And when he makes a pathetic sound, a whimper or something, at the back of his throat, I almost melt right into the ground.

Closer, closer, closer – that’s all I can really comprehend at the moment. Even with our bodies slotted together, even though I can feel each shaky breath he takes as his stomach flexes over my own, I feel hungry for more. It’s Din. My Din, kissing me, his hands on me, his eyes on me. My Din, grunting into me as I shift in his lap and squeeze my legs around him. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine—

He grabs my face gently by the chin, urging me away from him for a few moments. I sit there, blind, his open mouth still hovering over mine. Oh, stars, I think of the softness of his tongue, and I kiss the corner of his mouth, wanting, asking.

Din angles my face to the side, coming in slow, warm, and languidly slides his tongue into my hot mouth, breath fanning out across my glowing face. Maker. I can’t control myself – a helpless noise passes through me as I take it good and kiss him back, eager, wide open.

I guide his hand down the the base of my throat, just to feel his touch somewhere else. He squeezes there lightly.

His other hand manages to snake under my shirt, pressing flat across the small of my back, sliding up my spine and sending shivers all the way right through me.

It’s—good. Really good. Can’t-open-my-eyes-for-a-good-few-heartbeats type of good.

“Maker,” he curses hoarsely under his breath as I pull away, still leaning forward for me, chasing my touch.

“Good?” I ask him.

He presses a kiss to my cheek, smiling. “We can do this—more often—‘f you want.”

“If I want, huh?”

He kisses me deeply again, his thumb slotted beneath the cloth over my eyes. He pulls it taut to the side over so slightly, and I can make out that beautiful, warm glow over the sand and his armour again. I shut my eyes as he tilts my head up, though, as kisses down to the hollow of my throat and back up again.

I slide my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, holding him close. “You’re beautiful, aren’t you?” I just know it. Everything about him is just beautiful. It’s just lovely, and I love it.

“Marry me and you can find out for sure,” he mumbles into my neck.

I can hardly hear him, of course – blood is pounding so hard in my ears that all I can understand from his words are that they rumble deep right through his chest, warm under the cool beskar.

I lift his head and press my nose into his cheek. “I can tell,” I continue, words brushing his lips. Again, I smooth my fingers over his face. “You’re so pretty, Din.”

“Marry me,” he urges, whispering against the fabric over my eye, warm.

I grin. “Later.”

He curses, something in Mando’a. “We’re going to Takodana as soon as we get that damn ship, you hear me?”

[echo-writes-things]

Hi I’m angsty anon😛 I recently got back into the saw movies and am now hyperfixating on them after seeing saw x in theaters. Wondering if I could request a fic about the father/daughter relationship between Amanda and John? Wondering if you could write Amanda getting the shit beat out of her like how Eric beat her up and John’s reaction, what he would do, if he would clean her wounds and take care of her, etc.

YES I CAN I LOVE SAW I COULD KISS YOU ANGSTY ANON IVE BEEN SO DESPERATE FOR SAW ASKS

Psycho Family Headcannons:

Let’s be real Amanda gets into fights a lot. Not even on purpose it just follows her wherever she goes

John always patches her up and tries to make it a lesson. That classic old man “we can learn from this” fatherly advice

It’s a ritual every time they run out of bandaids Amanda gets to pick new bandaids (yes she picks princess bandaids not for herself but to make hoffman use them)

John always hates that he can’t step in and stop Amanda’s fights. He’d ask Hoffman to do it but we all know he’s go “no no I wanna see what happens”

One VERY RARE occasion Amanda had to go to Jill for help getting patched up instead of John because he was gone probably for a doctor’s appointment. It was awkward but they both appreciated the experience

John is gone a lot for doctors appointments (cancer check ups usually happen every 3-6 weeks depending on the stage at least that’s what I experienced) each time he comes back he hears Amanda getting into a fight.

Eventually he pulls the “I won’t always be here to fix you..” and she bursts into tears (see what I did there? I referenced Saw III)

One day Amanda got into a real bad fight with a victim, blood everywhere and most of it was her own.

John when full panic. “What happened?! Who did this to you? How are you feeling? Anything broken? Maybe I should take you to the hospital.”

Amanda calmed him down but he still made her sit her gay ass down so he could patch her up.

John may know some stuff about simple first aid but anything past that he’s lost. Stitches? He can barely hold his hand still. But he’ll put some gauze on it and if need be he’ll have Hoffman do it since he’d definitely know more about that sort of thing.

If she’s crying he’s wiping her tears and telling her that it’s all gonna be okay. “I’m here now. Let’s get you cleaned up”

She called him dad once when she was crying from being hurt and he had a wave of emotions. He has mixed feelings being called dad. It was meant to be for his son after all, not this homicidal maniac druggie he picked up off the street. But he lets it slide after a while and eventually gets used to it

Hoffman never makes fun of Amanda while she’s hurt but once she’s cleaned up he bullies her relentlessly

John then has to break up the fight between his two mentally unstable children, “you shouldn’t be fighting each other like this. Honestly you’re both acting like preschoolers”

John isn’t one for “treats”. He’s not gonna give someone a lollipop for not crying during their shot you feel me? So he doesn’t really give Amanda anything after he patches up her wounds. He’ll give her a pat on the back and encouraging words like “you’re strong and you���re smarter than fighting aimlessly like this.”

John is against the whole “Don’t start fights but you can finish them”. He thinks people should just walk away entirely. Silly man doesn’t realize you can’t always walk away, Amanda has tried explaining that but he won’t listen

Amanda is desperate for hugs from John. She never asks for them verbally but he can catch on when she needs one

Despite him practically being bed ridden his hugs are firm as fuck, one of those hugs where you kinda cry a little no matter who you are, just from how nice it feels

Sorry it’s not a fic! I might write an actual fic using these but I’ve had these headcannons held in my brain ever since I saw these tragic mentally ill people. I’ve got so many headcannons and theories please people send in asks for them.

[bitchimasnake-sss]

hi!! i am still on writing hiatus but this is some sort of confession i think lol. i was re-reading a few of my older stuff and while reading it, i was like wow i wrote this just for fun. and the fics had like... character? some humor and stuff. and it's partially cause i didn't expect any notes/reblogs/likes at that time. i wrote things because i liked the characters and i liked the brain-rot lmao. i had no audience and i was just having fun.

as i've been writing more often (and for a significantly larger audience who are here with me <3), it's as if i have gotten so much more self conscious like "will people like it?" "why isn't this getting notes?" "is this too corny or too angsty or too whatever" and though, i love writing, it's just kinda making me fixate a lot on shit that i initially didn't care about. so, like this is a disclaimer that when i am back to writing there are (hopefully) a lot more crack!fics and other dumb shit and i hope you guys still like those lol

i just had forgotten that fandoms are places for people to be stupid freaks and write stupid shit regardless of who it pleases or not. so, yes please brace yourselves for more and more stupid shit (every once in a while im still gonna cosplay a "good" writer when inspiration strikes)

okay, yes that's all. we should all be stupid hyperfixated bugs sometimes, i think that's just what our primal form is. so, if you also write/draw/ whatever or plan to write/draw/whatever then just do it. literally every one here is a clown (affectionate) and we should fully delve deeply into the dumbassery <3

[wynnyfryd]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

tagged by @thefreakandthehair @stevethehairington @wormdebut @just-my-latest-hyperfixation and @morningberriesao3 thank you loveliess

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

27 dresses starring katherine heigl and james marsden

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

138,103

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Stranger Things <3 My fics are all pretty exclusively Steddie or platonic Sstobin as the main focus, but I like to play around with the background ships - the best part of being super into a show with 14000 characters is you have so many opportunities for weird pair-ups

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

No Son of Mine

relax (lay it back)

TITS! magazine

Monsoon Season

relax (that's that)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! I try to answer every comment I get because like, thank you for taking the time to let me know you read and liked my story you didn't have to do that and I love that you did

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

mmmm. I don't- HAHAHAHA okay wait, I was about to say "I don't really do unhappy endings" because I don't, but I did do a single angsty ending microfic as a personal challenge back in July

at the bottom you'll find all our friends

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

weirdly enough I think it was the sex tape fic I wrote for @inklessletter lmao that fic turned out so much more 'aggressively married' vibes than I originally planned. Just absolute sap city

Satanic Ritual: DO NOT WATCH!!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Hope not lol

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

ADHD crack smut with a heart of fluffy gold

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I have written exactly one chapter of one crossover, which is a modern Stardust AU where Eddie is Tristan, Steve is the star, and 1980s Indiana is on the non-magical side of the wall. Also Eddie was trying to find the star so he could grab a chunk of it and barter it for a new electric guitar lmao. I really loved the premise I came up with and thought the first chapter was great; unfortunately the fic is fuckin cursed and will never be finished (by me. if anyone wants to take a swing at the story where I left it off feel free!)

stupid fucking star stuff

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

See #8

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't think so!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

yes! @gorgeousgreymatter-x and I co-wrote the first installment of the yogi steve vs adhd eddie series as a birthday gift to @flintandfuss <3 we broke each other's brains with our linear vs non-linear writing styles lmao but it was a really fun project

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Steddieeeeeeee

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I started working on this goofy little crack fic forever ago where Steve was a member of the snooty grandmas-only Loch Nora Gardening Club, and he was all stressed out because the ladies had beef with the neighboring town's club and had somehow put Steve in charge of operation "publicly humiliate them by throwing a better annual fundraising party"

and then Eddie, being the impulsive horny dumbass that he is, was jokingly like "hey, you could come to my garden party some time" and Steve's like "you're in a gardening club?" "yeah, technically! sure!"

then Eddie drives him to Indy and pulls them up to this shady little sex club called The Pleasure Garden and Steve gets gently bullied by a drag queen lmaooo

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue dialogue dialogue. Also I think in weird synesthesia (some words taste bad, some memories smell like cinnamon, ya know what I mean) so I feel like my imagery toward the fun and funky side

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

All the silly important shit that goes around the dialogue. And writing a seamless big group scene - more than four people in a conversation and the pacing gets so ssx tricky

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Mmmm. I mean, I tend to avoid it unless the fic/character actually requires it. Like I did a Robin POV fic where Robin would think certain curse words in different languages because it seemed fitting for the girl who's fluent in four languages, ya know? Ooh, I do also love a good "character royally botches what they're trying to say" moment so foreign language phrases are fun for that

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Twilight

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I'm really just unreasonably proud of myself for writing almost 30,000 words of continuous story in 30 days. I've been trying to do that for years and never even come close

okay sick thanks for letting me ramble incessantly about myself this was fun!

as usual I'm late to the tag party but tagging a couple people anyway <3 @steddieas-shegoes @thisapplepielife @wormdebut @aidaronan @gorgeousgreymatter-x

[spacerockwriting]

Gallavich intro

Thank you so much @callivich for making a gallavich intro meme thing!

Name: Comet

Age: 32

What made you fall in love with Gallavich? Their story. I love angsty plots and shit, and Idk. I just really fell hard for them. Like really hard. And having shitty dads is something I relate to, sooo that might be an added thing.

How long have you been a fan? Since like May? I was binging the show 3-4 times a day to get through all 11 seasons. I'm rebinging it again, so there's that.

Favourite Gallavich moment/scene? I'm rewatching season 1, so I do love the Mandy/Ian/Mickey moments we see. But I think Mickey taking care of Ian with his bipolar is one of my favorite moments. We're seeing just how much Mickey cares. As someone with mental illness, I really love seeing that. Ngl, I also love Groomzilla Mick and the wild ride of season 11.

Favourite Shameless character apart from Ian and Mickey? So it's probably Lip and Carl. I love Ian and Lip's closeness, and I love how chaotic and unhinged Carl is. Just shit like where do the gay weiners go? makes me crack up.

Do you write or draw or make edits? Yes!!! Been posting my writing here! And I'll link the full fic on A03 when I'm finished! Haven't done any edits or anything, but maybe I'll start. Good excuse to get out my tablet.

Favourite type of Gallavich fics? I'm pretty open. I like angst, substance, slow burn. I do a lot of fic reading at work, so please send me recommedations for stuff! I prefer long completed fics for those instances. AU's work, slow burn, canon divergence. The only thing I'm not really into is the A/B/O stuff. I also like fluffy onshots! I'll read those before bed, usually.

Favourite Gallavich quote? "Don't." "IAN GALLAGHERRRRR!!" Mickey's soft I love you. The unhinged S11: "That's Gay. We're Gay. Not that Gay." "Man I hate the fucking gays with all their meh and their bleh." Also not gallavich but I say Not cool, Jimmy-Steve like once a day at least.

Anything else you’d like to share about yourself? I'm really glad to be in this fandom as Shameless as been my hyperfixation for a while now. I'm so glad to be in such a welcoming fandom! Also @galladrabbles has been what I look forward to every week so there's that!

[hbyrde36]

@griefabyss69 really keeping me busy with the tag games AND I LOVE IT 💜💜💜

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

20! A few are short drabbles and one also one series that prob should have just been a multi-chaptered fic, so it sounds like a bit more than it is, but i'm super proud of my body of work so far

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

219,683 😱- which sounds absolutely insane to me considering i just started writing/posting in February of this year.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Only Stranger Things for now, but I could see myself doing this with future hyperfixations as well.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Times Like These

Shelter In Place

Caught in the Undertow

Life is a Game (and True Love is a Trophy)

Steve Harrington: Vampire Hunter

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! I don't always manage to respond to 100% of comments, but I really try because they do mean SO much to me and i want ppl to know that and to thank them for reading!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't think I have any, at least right now, with an angsty ending. Happy endings always and forever over here 💜 Angstiest fic, in general, would be (i think) Caught in the Undertow.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

This is a tough one because, of course, happy endings always, but I like the hopeful and open ending to Times Like These. It's nice after all the rigamarole of the time loop.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

*knocks on wood SO hard* I have yet to get a negative comment on anything and I feel so lucky for that because I just know how dicouraging it would be. That said, it does make me wonder if I play it too safe sometimes, and so i'm considering pushing myself a bit more out of my comfort zone in the future.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do, though usually as a small part to a larger fic. I have yet to write smut for the sake of itself. (though I do worship those authors that do. You are all wonderful and i'm not worthy!!) I'm still very self conscious of my spicy scenes, but i've been working hard at it and i'd like to think i've improved quite a bit since my first time.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I do! My fic - Steve Harrington: Vampire Hunter is the love child of Steddie and the long running Anita Blake vampire hunter novel series. It has been so much fun to write and I love every comment i get from a reader who has never even heard of Anita Blake but loved the fic anyway! From the moment I imagined Steve as Anita and Eddie as Jean-Claude, i just knew i had to do somethign with it. It's been an absolute blast and i can't believe it's almost complete.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No - but that would be amazing!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I havn't, but would definetely be open to the idea with the right person. (assuming i had the time to commit to it) I am doing the reverse big bang, which is not cowriting of course but is a collaboration and i'm super excited for it.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Steddie got me into this whole fandom/fanfic mess and they are without a doubt my favorite but i'll read just about any ST pairing if it's written well.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I plan to finish every project i've started, even those i'm not yet posting. For my own sanity i don't think I could leave anything unfinished (no judgement whatsoever to anyone who had left a fic unfinished though, this shit (and life) is hard sometimes!)

16. What are your writing strengths?

I don't know really, um, I think I do pretty good dialog? I know that's the part of writing I tend to enjoy the most, and the part i usually write first for any scene. I can hear my characters voices very clearly in my head so conversation comes easily and naturally most of the time.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Getting too caught up in the little details (and stressing about them) and letting it slow me down

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I havn't done it myself but i do love it in other fics ❤

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Stranger Things/Steddie! I'm a fanfic late bloomer and only started reading it a year ago, and writing it 9 months ago.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

You can't make me choose! I love all my children equally!

Ok, fine. I'll say - Life is a Game (and True Love is a Trophy) is my current favorite because it is probably the most insane and creative project i've undertaken so far. It was a long time coming too. I had the idea for it way back in March, but I doubted my ability to take it on for a long time and only starting writing and posting it in july. It still feels intimidating to think about, but I love the way I've twisted canon to fit my weird idea.

No pressure tags! @penny00dreadful @thisapplepielife @manda-panda-monium @steddiecameraroll @chaosgremlinmunson @spoookysix @steventhusiast

[koskela-knights]

Ao3 Ask Game

Thanks @autisticwriterblog for the tag :D

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

542 but that's going to change to 543 soon I hope ;)

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

1,498,254 words 😳😱

3. What fandoms do you write for?

At the moment I'm still obsessed with Alan Wake 2. Gonna hit 111 works for it soon 😏 Which is why I'll try to focus on those works and becos this is my Koskela blog after all :D

4. Top five fics by kudos

Lmao, it's all DBH xD Used to be very active in that fandomD but my Top 5 AW fics would be:

Jacket (Ilmo/Alan)

Minds Collide (Zaneling, my only Zaneling fic lol)

Curious Case(y) (Scratch/Casey)

Off trail (Ilmo/reader)

Bleeding Hearts (Ilmo/Alan)

Honestly, I'm mainly proud of the first and last piece here.

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to reply to every comment! Honestly, it's cool when a little convo ensues from that ;) I also save all comments in my jar (a word file) to reread whenever I'm suffering from imposter syndrome/feel down about my writing 😅

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Pheew... That's a tough question. I've written a whole bunch of angsty Hanahaki fics and general angsty shit in multiple fandoms.

Many early AW2 fics center on the aftermath of Jaakko's death ;_; Maybe Kaleidoscope is one of the angstiest endings but certainly not the only one

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

In the romance category that might gonna be the Slow Roasting Love ending. But the Koskelas at Pride was very happy too. Again, it's not easy to choose becos of how many different situations I've written about :P

For a Koskela or Huotari/Reader fic, I'd like to say the historical Ilmari x transmasc Reader where they're in an arranged marriage but Ilmari's a closeted gay man and reader is a closeted gay transmasc person so in the end it works out perfectly for them 🥺😏 It has a smut tag but smut only happens in the last chapter. It's a slowburn fic.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I think only once. I'm surprised and glad it hasn't happened much :P

9. Do you write smut?

Lol, my very first fic on there was smut. Once a smut writer, always a smut writer 😏

10. Craziest crossover?

I have a few post-apocalyptic series with a big mashup of seemingly unrelated fandoms together.

One being about Libraries where characters from Resident Evil meet PoTF characters, OCs and even Rose from Alan Wake so 😂

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Thankfully not.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Two of which one is published on ao3 too and the other on a Russian fan site :D Love when that happened 🙌🥰

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope. However, the Echoverse has come to life thanks to many discussions and conversations with @zephyrone01 and @copiasmic who have helped flesh out that world and given me prompt fuels for some of the fics

14. All time favourite ship?

Tough one, for the AW world it would be CultCase.

Be it in the echo-verse or extended from there in other AUs 😏 And its 'variations' in Ilmari x Kesä. I love their tragedy across several AUs. Same reason I also love Jaakoppi x Kesä

And the third OTP would now be Tim/Jaakko which, again, was born from the Echoverse

15. What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I once started writing a fic about the Koskelas and the Huotaris and the importance of stars and them trying to escape their tragic fate by astral projection.

16. What are your writing strengths?

🤔Maybe that I write multiple oneshots and make it a series. So you have this idea of a bigger world, without having to write one big overarching story or plot :P

Also, if i'm rly into a fandom and am hyperfixated, that creativity just flows abundant lol

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Fight scenes. And believe it or not, sometimes I feel the smut isn't always as spicy as I want it to be xD especially if it's more than 2 people, that shit is tough to write. U don't want anybody neglected unless it's something a character is into 😂

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I love it, but it's definitely a challenge! I usually resort to/limit myself to some translated words.

So far I've written stuff with Spanish, Finnish or Dutch in it.

19. First fandom you wrote in?

It all started with The Evil Within back in 2014. I think you could see an improvement in my English as the years go on in fic writing :P

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Sticking to AW works.... I like multiple works lmao 😂 All for different reasons. I'd say the two series: YY but Different and the CultCase series. (I can't choose 1 fic 😭)

Some of those stories contained, are standalone oneshots, but all combined give you a vast look into these worlds.

One being about bisexual Kesä and his complicated relation with closeted Ilmari. And the relationships between him and Ahti and between the Huotari brothers and Ahti (WIP)

And then you have CultCase which also explores many interesting dynamics between characters 🥺

And both series have a lot of angst, but also some tenderness and softness in them. And smut 😏 Something for everyone can be found there

I tag @copiasmic @entropicquilibriumofchaos @changethecircumstances @juhospemmifer & others who might wanna join but no one's obliged to do these ofc

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

@ckfemslashnetwork

COBRA KAI SAPPHIC SUMMER WEEK 3 BAREFOOT

***

When the morning came we Were cleaning incense off your Vinyl shelf ‘cause we lost track of time again Laughing with my feet in your lap Like you were my closest friend

“How’d we end up on the floor anyway?” you say “Your roommate’s parents’ cheap-ass screw-top rosé, that’s how” I see you every day now

And I chose you The one I was dancing with In New York LA No shoes Looked up at the sky and it was

The burgundy on my T-shirt when you splashed your wine into me And how the blood rushed into my cheeks So scarlet, it was The mark you saw on my collarbone The rust that grew between telephones The lips I used to call home So scarlet, it was maroon

When the silence came we Were shaking blind and hazy How the hell did we lose sight of us again? Sobbing with your head in your hands Ain’t that the way shit always ends?

You were standing hollow-eyed in the hallway Carnations you had thought were roses, that’s us I feel you no matter what The rubies that I gave up

And I lost you The one I was dancing with In New York LA No shoes Looked up at the sky and it was maroon

The burgundy on my T-shirt when you splashed your wine into me And how the blood rushed into my cheeks So scarlet, it was maroon The mark you saw on my collarbone The rust that grew between telephones The lips I used to call home So scarlet, it was maroon

And I wake with your memory over me That’s a real fucking legacy, legacy And I wake with your memory over me That’s a real fucking legacy to leave

The burgundy on my T-shirt when you splashed your wine into me And how the blood rushed into my cheeks So scarlet it was maroon The mark you saw on my collarbone The rust that grew between telephones The lips I used to call home So scarlet it was maroon

It was maroon It was maroon

***

YOOOOO LOOKIT ME, FINISHING ON TIME FOR ONCE

...well, barely, but still XD

Anyways, I remember when Midnights dropped last year, I was lowkey FLOORED because there were not one, not two, but THREE YasMoon songs on there??? Like maybe I was just a little biased because that was at the very cusp of my life-ruining hyperfixation, but STILL. I was very akjdnshkuefdyurgfuygfeuksy about it for several days straight XD

I've always wanted to write an angsty Maroon fic for these two, and already kinda dipped into it here, here, and here. This is basically an expansion on these! This is kind of a companion piece to my ongoing 10-minute All Too Well YasMoon fic (snippet here, btw!) since it goes into more detail about the dance scene in that one.

Btw!!! The kiss in this fic is 100% what I headcanon their first kiss was <3 It takes place circa October of their freshman year, so well before they started hanging out with Sam in the beginning of S1.

(Yes I do in fact think they started macking on each other within a few weeks of meeting at the beginning of freshman year ajsdnhkufduh Like they both have the confidence and the popularity that I think they'd just dive right into it with the intention of writing it off as "just bestie things" if one or both of them realizes they're not actually gay XD)

Hope Moon's POV isn't too purple prose-y ^^; I kind of struggle to write her sometimes because she seems like the kind of person who's very poetic in how she describes things and people (i.e. "I dreamed I was a drop of dew glistening in the moonlight"), very possibly to the point of being insufferable/cringey XD It can also be tricky to describe how much (I genuinely believe) she loved Yasmine without it coming across as like...idk, corny? Or over the top? But since this is romance fic, that's probably okay maybe? I guess not being that spiritual myself, I sometimes have a hard time incorporating Moon's spirituality into her character in what feels like a genuine and realistic way.

Fic preview under the cut! Y'all are lucky I stopped when I did so you just get the fluffy bits and aren't subjected to the absolute gut punch that the second half is inevitably gonna be XD No particular TWs for this section aside from mentions of (canon-typical) underage drinking and drug use and some descriptions of a make-out session.

As always, moodboard pic credits available upon request :3

@karatecaulfield pspspsps!!! I Marooned them!!!

***

“What the fuck.”

Moon yawned in tired confusion, trying to piece together why Yasmine was so distraught.

“Mmmm. What?”

“We stayed up all fucking night.”

Yasmine nodded at the vast panoramic window, her face outlined in a faint orange glow. It took Moon a moment to realize it wasn’t just from the city lights.

Somewhere along the way, among the smoking and the laughing and the making out and the easy conversations, dawn crept up on them. The tree-covered hillside was bathed in rosy light, yellow porch lamps and streetlights mingling with the first rays of sun.

“Oh my god.” Under the haze of drugs and alcohol and sleep deprivation, Moon felt the alarm catch up to her. “Are we gonna die, Yas?”

“No, idiot.” Yasmine jabbed her shoulder—hard, but still affectionate. As was Yasmine’s way. “You’ll just be kind of tired later. And we can use my espresso machine.”

“Because my dad says if you don’t sleep, you’ll start seeing spirits and demons—”

“Your dad also licks LSD tabs enough to show up the damn tootsie pop owl, Moon.”

Moon snorted, lifting a foot from where it rested on Yasmine’s leg and kicking her lightly in the stomach. The other girl only cackled, emanating the same smug victory as always.

And god was it hot.

“I seriously can’t believe we pulled an all-nighter for no reason.” Yasmine laughed, one hand starting to absentmindedly massage Moon’s feet. “I haven’t pulled an all-nighter since I was like 12.”

Moon frowned. “What were you staying up all night for in middle school?”

“Oh, you know.” Yasmine clicked her tongue. “My mom wouldn’t let me ditch school on my 13th birthday, so I stayed up as a protest. I really didn’t want to like…cross the threshold of finally becoming a teenager while trapped in the shittiest place on earth. So I tried to put it off as long as I could.”

“Did it work?” Moon gave her a coy look.

“Oh, shut up.” Yasmine snickered, shoving her a little harder than before. Moon fell to the carpet in a giggling heap, feet still leaning against Yasmine’s stomach.

It was a strange sort of comfort, she thought. The effortless ease of being with a best friend.

A best friend.

Something Moon hadn’t had for a long while. Possibly not since early elementary school, where she had a bad habit of befriending girls just as strange as her only for them to move away the next year.

But then Yasmine happened. And it seemed that, unless disaster struck, she was there to stay.

“So be straight with me.” She gave Moon a searching look, drowsiness slowing her movements. “Did you secretly—”

“Be straight with you.” Moon cut her off. “You were Frenching me like your life depended on it 4 hours ago, and you want me to be straight with you.”

Yasmine’s entire face flushed. “You know what I mean!”

“Yeah, and you used the funniest possible wording for it.”

“You’re so annoying.”

You think so? Doesn’t look like that from where I’m standing.

Yasmine wasn’t open about fondness. But Moon could always feel it, hovering in the air in a sort of balmy, indescribable energy.

“But real talk.” Yasmine went back to scrutinizing her. “Did you secretly do one of those like…weird Wiccan spells when we burned the incense? To make time speed up or whatever?”

“No.” Moon had to smirk. “You just like hanging out with me. You wasted an entire night on me that you’ll never get back.”

And so Yasmine had. She could tell Moon tomorrow that she never wanted to see her again, and it couldn’t erase the hours they’d spent with their auras interlaced in that beautiful living room. The time their souls spent weaving into one blinding beam, like the first ray of sunrise over the Valley.

Yasmine answered with an eyeroll, but her cheeks were still undeniably red. Moon savored the taste of a rare victory.

“You like hanging out with me, Yasmine Pyne,” she taunted playfully. As though voicing it again would cement it into something more tangible. More permanent.

“Oh, bullshit.” Yasmine scoffed—albeit one devoid of any real disdain. “I invited you over to dance around my house and get crossed with me because I hate you.”

And Moon burst out laughing, because that quick, deadpan wit had to be her favorite thing in the world.

She hoped it would always be a short reach away.

“Speaking of the incense, though!” She sat up, suddenly reaching for a roll of paper towels on the ebony wood coffee table. “We should get back to work.”

They’d made quite a mess earlier, the remains of amber, cedar, jasmine, and copal sprawled across the decorative record shelves that Yasmine’s parents had never stored a single record on. Until about an hour ago, they were diligently cleaning it up.

Or maybe it was 2 hours? Moon wasn’t quite sure when they got sidetracked.

“How’d we even end up down here?” Yasmine glanced at the white carpet below them, which at some point they must have decided was a better seating arrangement than anything else the room had to offer.

“This probably helped.”

Moon plucked the empty rosé bottle from where it had almost rolled under a navy blue couch. The wine really was exceptionally shitty grade, for being from Yasmine’s mother’s padlocked liquor cabinet.

But Yasmine figured out the combination long ago, as well as the fact that the crappier the wine was, the quicker her mother would completely forget it existed.

Yasmine laughed, and Moon didn’t think it would ever stop being addictive. Full, beautiful, showing off dimples that only glowed their brightest when the frosty walls came down.

“We’re ridiculous. Loveseat over there’s worth 4 grand…and yet here we are.” She patted the floor, rolling her eyes.

“Should we move, then?”

“Mmmmm…no. That sounds like a lot of work.”

Yasmine ran thin, delicate fingers down Moon’s leg. Serenity trickled across her body, more cleansing than settling into a warm rose bath.

She leaned back, reclining on the carpet and closing her eyes. For a moment she swore she was floating, suspended in the sunrise with Yasmine backlit by the approaching morning. Both of them one with the sky and the vast infinity beyond.

She had so much to say, but wasn’t sure how to voice any of it without sounding silly.

Does she know she’s my peace? Does she know I never knew what bliss could really be until we entwined ourselves? Does she know I haven’t been this happy in a long time?

Does she know I’m falling in love? Does she know it scares me?

Does she know I still want to hold on as hard as I can?

“God.” She opened her eyes to see Yasmine smiling down at her—the kind of rare, unrestrained affection she could get used to. “You’re the coolest person I know, and I get to see you every day. I’m the luckiest bitch in the world.”

Moon thought she was, too.

***

Their shoes were kicked off at the foyer entrance, forgotten.

Yasmine led Moon around the hall’s velvet centerpiece, twirling with one hand on her friend’s waist and the other on a glass of merlot. The marble floor was cold against Moon’s feet, but her cheeks were burning.

It all felt like an elegant princess ball, straight out of some fairy tale picture book. Well…a princess ball if True Love’s Kiss was completely fucking unattainable, anyways.

She never should’ve agreed to this—“practicing” for the Halloween dance with Yasmine, of all people. Now she was an undignified, blushing, well-on-her-way-to-being-crossed mess.

Not like Yasmine was doing much better for herself.

Already half-drunk, her merlot swayed this way and that as she pulled Moon through the foyer. She giggled and hummed along to the soft pop music drifting from the boombox from the corner, green eyes bloodshot and slowly drifting shut.

Moon knew on some level that disaster was eminent. But the entire scene was so gloriously strange and delightfully ridiculous that all she could do was go along with it.

“We are so dumb.” She sniggered the words in between puffs from a bong, intermittently put down on Yasmine’s rose gold couch.

“Yeah. We’re idiots.” Yasmine erupted into a devilish grin, completely unperturbed. “But you’re having fun, aren’t you?”

Moon playfully blew a puff of smoke into Yasmine’s face. “I guess I am.”

“Tooooold you this was a great idea.”

One more lap around the centerpiece before the night irreversibly shifted.

A tiny misstep, and Yasmine’s leg collided with the velvet arm of the couch. She yelped, toppling forward and sending burgundy sloshing from her wine glass.

Gray-green eyes stretched wide with horror as Moon felt something wet on her. It was as though Yasmine banished her altered state with sheer force of will, now fully cognizant of the unfolding catastrophe.

“Shit. Moon. I’m so sorry.”

Her hand flew from Moon’s waist, covering a pained gasp. Moon surveyed the damage.

It wasn’t that bad. Just a dark red patch on a relatively unimportant floral-printed t-shirt. Nothing a good dry clean couldn’t fix.

But Yasmine was looking at the discolored smudge like Moon had been shot.

“Hey. It’s fine.” Moon rested a hand on her shoulder. “It’ll come out. Promise.”

Yasmine only whimpered, shaking her head. She nearly slammed her glass on the marble, putting it down in a rush so she could use both hands to inspect Moon’s shirt.

“God.” Her face twisted in disgust. “I’m such a moron. I’m sorry. I can’t believe I did that.”

“It’s okay!”

Moon forced a chuckle. Perhaps if she laughed this all off, so could Yas.

She found herself desperately wanting back the Yasmine of a few minutes ago, all giggles and easy smiles and clumsy movements. Too often she was a hot coil, ready on a moment’s notice to surge into a burst of concentrated, destructive energy. Never allowing herself to loosen or cool down.

It’d been nice to finally see her let all that go.

“It just looks like another rose in the pattern.” Moon shrugged. “Or…a carnation, maybe. Probably too dark to be a rose. But the shirt’s kind of a watercolor design anyways, so. Doesn’t look that out-of-place.”

“But I ruined it!” Yasmine ran the fabric through her fingers, staring at the stain like she was trying to will it away. “Now people are gonna see you and think you’re some kind of…I don’t know, sloppy alcoholic loser. I’ve seen my mom’s maid try to get out stains like this, and they’re a bitch.”

“Hey. Yas.” Moon ruffled her hair affectionately. “It’s just a shirt. I can get another one just like it.”

“Yeah, but…I was a big fucking dumbass, and now you have to go to the trouble.” Yasmine stepped back, looking up to meet Moon’s gaze.

Her face was pressed into a deep frown. Moon slid her hand back onto her friend’s shoulder.

“I thought wine would be fun, but it was all so stupid,” Yasmine muttered, eyes darting away.

“It was not!” Moon rolled her eyes. “You’re being overdramatic. What would it take to convince you I’m not mad?”

“Why aren’t you?!” Yasmine practically wailed it. “Like, you’re not showing nearly enough concern over this fashion disaster! Imagine if anyone at school saw you like this. They’d never take you seriously again. Start calling you ‘Moonshine’ or some shit.”

“Yes, but they aren’t here.” Moon shook her head, fond smile tugging at her lips. “You worry too much about things that haven’t even happened yet. Take a deep breath, okay?”

“I still can’t believe I was that stupid.” The other girl’s frown morphed into an embarrassed pout. “Like. Ugh. Practically pouring wine on you like some sort of dumb fuck because I forget where my own fucking couch is. I’m—I’m really sorry. I’ll buy you a new shirt if you want.”

It was strange—this minor thing sending her into near hysterics. She was never one for even small apologies, let alone making a huge, borderline groveling show of them. There was a cognitive dissonance in it—this facet so drastically different from any of the Yasmine Moon had seen.

And yet.

Something about Yasmine’s flustered, self-conscious blubbering, Moon thought, was so beautiful.

And that was about when it hit her.

In a matter of weeks, Yasmine had clawed her way to the top of the school food chain, pulling Moon right along with her. They were practically royalty, hallways clearing out for them to walk through and geeky classmates not even daring to look them in the eye.

Moon could have anyone she wanted now. Half the jocks were constantly ogling her, any one of them more than content to be a trophy on the up-and-coming cheerleader’s arm.

But she wanted Yasmine.

She could have kids from every high school in California vying for her affections—presenting her with gifts and flattery and sensual touches and promises and everything in between—and her choice would be the same every time.

She plucked up her own wine, sitting on a nearby table, and took a long sip. The warmth of the alcohol bubbled through her like a holy elixir—and in a single, elevated moment, she made up her mind.

Yasmine was still mumbling apologies and bemoaning her tiny moment of weakness when Moon cupped her cheeks, pulling them together.

Heat coursed from her purple-painted toenails to her tanned cheeks and everywhere in between. It was like sinking into a hot tub on a cold winter night, jets pressing on her from every direction.

And for what felt like a while, Moon let herself lie suspended in the moment. Not taking in a thing but the dazzling now.

Yasmine tasted like strawberry bubblegum lip gloss, and her mouth was soft and sensual and perfect—like the stars had always aligned for Moon to end up there. Smooth, manicured nails cupped the back of her neck, massaging every runaway hair and every hidden crevice of skin.

The only reason Moon pulled away was to center herself. Make sure she hadn’t done something completely insane.

“Moon.”

Her name was almost inaudible.

Yasmine stared in quiet disbelief, completely motionless. Moon held her breath, waiting for everything to process.

When it did, there was no horror on Yasmine’s face. No disgust. No shame. Not yet, anyways.

She was in awe.

“Why the hell did you stop?”

The sheer aggression of the statement caught Moon off-guard. She scarcely had time to think before Yasmine was holding her chin, yanking her forward and slamming their mouths together.

They pulled apart and crashed together again and again, fire and fervor and sheer, insatiable hunger blazing hotter than every star in the sky. And even tingling with a euphoria that felt eternal, Moon couldn’t help but think this was a long time coming.

She’d always had a feeling her and Yasmine’s auras were destined to interlock—far more than hers had with anyone else’s. And she’d always had a feeling they wanted each other.

It was a tension that hung in the air, coloring the space between them in vivid, pulsating pinks and reds. The ever-present agony of wanting the flavorful candy stored on top shelves, but never sure how to get it. The frustration of entangling themselves when they hugged goodbye and realizing that a brief hold would never be enough.

The way when they touched, they didn’t want to let go.

No, they were always meant to end up that way. And come what may, Moon would not question the wills of fate and the universe.

Especially when it gifted her the most beautiful thing she ever felt.

Sunset light streamed in through elegant bay windows, and the whole foyer glowed like topaz. In between kisses Moon saw it wash over Yasmine, outlining her in peach and orange and finally deep scarlet.

She was brighter than a goddess.

Dusk was pleasantly warm against Moon’s arms. Pure, relieving, freeing. Peaceful as the rhythm of evening crickets and the hum of distant 101 traffic.

The beginning of something beautiful. Not merely the last touch of daylight before the world was taken by darkness.

Then again, for someone named after the brightest thing in a black sky…

It only made sense the most radiant moments of Moon’s life would be on the cusp of nightfall.

When Moon looked out the windows again, the sky was deep red, and the clouds glowed like rubies.