#but im keeping the old tags for memory reasons

[puppet-limbo]

Hi it's like 11:30pm and I accidentally made myself emotional over the thought of PNF-404 mourning and grieving and missing a time when humans still lived on it, even if not all of those times were amazing. And when Olimar and everyone else starts crashing on it throughout the series (it tries to guide them down but when people resist and fight it then all goes terribly wrong despite it trying to lead them down relatively safely) it's delighted to see people again and while it won't hand them a super easy time, it knows they're capable of overcoming anything and is genuinely proud to see how they've all come along after all this time by the time of Pikmin 4

[ariichive]

HOSTAGE──★

when you’re suddenly taken from them, they do everything to take you back to their side.

cw: gen. neutral reader, kidnapping, violence, slight yandere but i’ll tag it anyways, written on my phone, kremnoan and ohkeman beef, PHAINON LEAK/THEORY SPOILERS!!!!!

hi guys i’m back, in honor of mydei’s banner, im on a posting spree rn

mydei

being the newest chrysos heir was already no easy job. but being from the rival kingdom of kastrum kremnos made it even harder.

mydei had been walking a narrow path from the moment he claimed his place—too much loyalty to one side, and the other would brand him a traitor. too little loyalty to either, and he risked being swallowed whole by both.

you, of course, stayed by his side; there ever since the journey to slaughter eurypon—a grim memory neither of you spoke of often. you remembered the blood, the screams, the bodies that littered the path behind you. the way mydei had barely slept those nights, keeping one hand curled in a fist and the other on your arm—like letting go of you would mean death.

when the others had died — one by one, torn apart by the horrors that clung to eurypon’s shadow — you had been the only one who survived with him.

it felt like a thread of fate held you two together.

mydei had grown possessive since then—never far from your side, always finding some reason to justify it. you could see the tension coil in his shoulders whenever you spoke to others. the way his eyes lingered too long when someone stood too close.

so when a lowly gang in okhema seen you as his weakness, he was in shambles.

they didn’t know who they were dealing with—not at the time. they thought they’d found an easy target; new to okhema and gullible. mydei’s trusted companion, the one who’d stayed with him through blood and war. the one who knew too much, saw too much.

and most importantly, the one he couldn’t replace.

the gang moved fast. faster than you expected. one minute you were weaving through the crowded streets of okhema, and the next a rough hand yanked you into a shadowed alley.

you fought—hard—elbow driving into someone’s ribs, a sharp kick catching another in the shin. but there were too many. ropes bit into your wrists, a grimy cloth stuffed into your mouth before you could shout.

“kremnoan’s should never get too comfortable somewhere they don’t belong.”

one of them sneered, dragging you deeper into the slums. “think he’ll hand over half his kingdom just to get ‘em back?”

he. they meant mydei.

you struggled harder. you knew what he was capable of.

you managed to spit out the cloth in your mouth, “let me go! you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into!” you tried to plead with them.

this was so frustrating!

being in okhema was supposed to be a fresh start, especially for mydei. the people were nice, and both aglaea and tribbie seemed wonderful.

aglaea even gifted you a new wardrobe with your exact measurements—you weren’t going to question how, but you had your suspicions mydei had something to do with it.

mydei’s rage was a slow burn and once it was ignited, nothing could stop it.

now, mydei was bound to harbor anger in the people of okhema if you didn’t find a way to get out fast enough, before he got here.

you thought back to your old companions, ones who fought so dominantly on the battlefield.

you had to wait for the right moment, for these men to be distracted.

when the chance came, you were quick to rub the rope around your wrists against the hard pavement under you until eventually, it snapped.

wasting no time, you jolted up and ran.

the dim light of the alley barely illuminates your path as you stagger onto the cold cobblestones. every sound is amplified in the silence: your own rapid breathing, the distant hum of the city, and the echo of your footsteps bouncing off crumbling walls.

you can still hear the angry shouts from the gang behind you, their curses fading into the night. but there’s something else. a heavy, anticipatory silence that suggests a reckoning is coming. you know mydei’s fury is inevitable.

your heart pounds in your ears as you press yourself against a rough wall, scanning the darkened corners for an escape route. you realize that you have only minutes—maybe even seconds—to vanish into the maze of alleys, to slip away before his vengeance becomes all too real.

with one last look over your shoulder, you take a deep breath and push forward into the uncertain night, every step a desperate bid to outrun the impending tempest of mydei’s retribution.

with a quick turn around the corner, you were taken off guard by the chest you ran into.

the impact knocks the breath from you. you stumble, barely catching yourself as a pair of intense eyes lock onto yours. mydei stands before you, his presence impossible to ignore—fury and concern mingling in his gaze.

for a moment, the world slows: the pounding of your heart, the ragged rhythm of his breath, and the distant echoes of chaos outside. his hand, strong and sure, grips your shoulder, steadying you. there’s no time for explanations, no room for hesitation.

“i’m here,” he growls, voice low and dangerous, as if every syllable is meant to ward off an unseen threat.

you stood there, struggling to catch your breath and mydei simply observed.

there was no anger; there was just nothing.

which was even worse.

"mydei..!" he continued to just stare at you, looking you over. the only sign of a reaction was the slight twitch of his brow and pointer finger.

he walked away, going towards the way you came.

mydei was going to make sure his position as a chrysos heir was not one to be messed with.

phainon

phainon stared in absolute horror as the flame reaver emerged from the darkness.

he was prepared for another battle with strong being, but he wasn't prepared for it to lunge at you.

it all happened quickly; all it took was one slip-up, one miscalculation, and you were no longer there with him.

when you finally regained consciousness, it felt as if you were floating within time itself; just an endless abyss.

but he was there, you could feel it.

your eyes adjusted to the dark space, the only light coming from what appeared to be stars.

he spoke before you, "i... am not weak this time."

his words carried weight, reverberating through the void like a vow only the cosmos could witness. a hand—his hand—reached toward you, hesitant yet determined.

"every other time, i've failed." you squinted as its hand brought itself up to its masked face, promptly removing the mask.

the familiar blue eyes were staring at you. though, they looked way more clouded and dead. "now, you're here with me, and i don't... i can't let you leave, [name]."

"p-phainon? what..?" you brought your hand up tp your head, feeling nauseous.

he took a step closer, the eerie quiet of the space only broken by the heavy thrum of his breath. "i’ve waited too long, [name]. every failure, every mistake—it’s been for this. i can't lose you again."

his voice was hoarse, raw, like it hadn't been used for years.

your heart raced, and despite the ache in your head, you managed to focus on him, on the way his eyes flickered between desperation and something darker. something desperate.

"you're the flame reaver? i... i don’t understand," you murmured, your voice barely rising above the void's haunting silence.

"you don't have to," phainon whispered, his gaze never leaving yours. "just know, i won’t let you go. not this time."

you could feel his hand trembling slightly as it reached out, brushing the tips of your fingers, as if afraid you might vanish if he held too tightly.

your entire body felt heavy, like something was weighing you down, keeping you trapped in this endless abyss. phainon’s presence was the only solid thing anchoring you, yet even that felt… wrong. his touch was cold, unsteady, as if he wasn’t sure whether to pull you closer or let you slip through his fingers.

"phainon..." your voice wavered, barely above a whisper. "where are we?"

his grip on you tightened ever so slightly. "a place between," he murmured. "a space where time bends, where the past and present blur together." his gaze darkened. "where i lost you before."

his words sent a shiver down your spine. the way he looked at you—it wasn’t just desperation. it was grief, old and worn, like he'd lived through this moment before.

"lost me…?" your fingers curled weakly into the fabric of his coat. "but i’m right here."

he let out a quiet, bitter chuckle, though there was no humor in it. "you always say that."

the stars around you pulsed, and for a moment, the darkness shifted. flashes of something flickered in the void—visions of a battle, a figure reaching out, a violent burst of flames. the echoes of distant screams rang in your ears, but they weren’t your own.

they were his.

your breath hitched. "phainon… what did you do?"

his expression twisted, and for the first time since you awoke, you saw it—fear. not of you, but of your reaction. of your realization.

"i tried," he whispered, his voice barely holding together. "again and again, i tried. but no matter what i did, no matter how strong i became—" he clenched his jaw, his fingers trembling as they curled into fists. "you still died."

his words settled deep in your chest, a weight heavier than the abyss itself.

"but this time…" he exhaled sharply, looking at you like you were the only thing keeping him from completely unraveling. "this time, i brought you here first. before fate could take you away again."

your stomach dropped. "phainon, you—"

"i won’t lose you," he interrupted, shaking his head. "not again. not ever."

the void around you seemed to pulse in response to his words, the stars flickering like they, too, were holding their breath.

and in that moment, you understood.

this wasn’t just a place between time.

this was where phainon had kept every version of you that had ever been lost.

anaxa

irritating. everything about this was extremely irritating.

for that woman to send okhema's soldiers to take you away took a lot of nerve.

anaxa sat in his quarters, fingers drumming against the armrest of his chair, the rhythmic tapping the only sound in the otherwise silent room. his jaw tightened as he recalled the way they had come for you—swift, efficient, as if they had every right to tear you away from him.

as if he would just sit back and allow it.

he let out a slow breath, willing himself to think. acting recklessly would get him nowhere, but the longer he sat here, the worse the irritation festered.

his patience had already worn thin.

he stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor as he pushed away from it. his coat billowed behind him as he strode toward the door, purpose in every step.

if aglaea thought she could take you from him without consequence, she was about to be sorely mistaken.

the halls of his residence were empty, the air thick with the quiet tension of something about to break. anaxa had no need for guards; no one would dare to step in his way. yet tonight, the silence felt suffocating. suffocating because you weren’t here.

his fingers twitched at his sides. this wasn’t just irritation anymore. this was anger, slow-burning but ready to consume.

he knew where they had taken you.

it wouldn’t be difficult to reach you—not for him. the real question was how much destruction he was willing to cause in the process.

he sighed, running a hand through his hair before letting it drop. what an annoyance. what a hassle.

but it didn’t matter.

they had taken you from him.

he would take you back.

anaxa didn't care if they needed you at okhema, you were his personal assistant. whatever they needed could have been asked through him

(he ignores them, hence why aglaea sought after you).

by the time he stepped into okhema, the air was thick with the scent of the city—metal, incense, and something faintly electric crackling beneath the surface. okhema’s soldiers weren’t subtle; they never were. it wasn’t difficult to track their route, and anaxa wasted no time cutting through the winding paths that led to the hero's bath outer quarters.

then he saw them.

a squad of soldiers, stationed outside a secured chamber, their stance rigid, their hands hovering over their weapons. they were expecting trouble.

good.

anaxa didn’t slow his stride.

"halt," one of them commanded, stepping forward with a hand raised. "by order of the—"

anaxa didn’t let him finish.

with a flick of his wrist, anaxa held his gun pointed to the soldier's head, his other hand materializing his orb.

"move," he said flatly.

one of them made the mistake of reaching for a communication device.

annoying.

with a simple flick of his fingers, a sharp wave of energy lashed out, slicing through the device before the soldier could utter a word. their breath hitched as the realization sank in.

they weren’t winning this fight.

anaxa stepped closer, his patience nonexistent. "last chance."

the soldiers shared a look before making the smartest decision of their lives. they turned and ran.

cowards.

he continued onward, reaching a secluded room in the bathhouse.

he paused for a moment, his hand on the handle, taking a deep breath. he didn’t know what state you’d be in, but that didn’t matter now.

what mattered was that you were still here.

the door swung open with a smooth motion.

“[name],” he spoke your name like a command, his voice low but steady, holding an edge of urgency.

you looked up, eyes wide, disoriented. but when your gaze met his, something clicked. the tension that had been suffocating him finally lifted.

he stepped inside without hesitation, his eyes locked onto yours. “we’re leaving. now.”

[spcherryygirl]

you are the best thing that's ever been mine,

from vi

ᰔ pairing . . . b. wayne !

ᰔ with . . . a wife!reader / batmom !

ᰔ category . . . fluff , suggestive , one - shot

ᰔ in which . . . for anyone who has ever hoped for a second chance.

ᰔ TAGS . . . domestic bruce wayne. dilf energy maxed out. wife!reader. reader is younger than bruce but was not mentioned. alfred supremacy(he's my dad guys). child wrangling. emotionally constipated but trying. batkids being menaces. batdad malfunctioning before coffee. kisses like vows. touch-starved billionaire behavior. gentle smut if you squint. robe removal as a love language. heavy on the softness. suggestive content. emotionally vulnerable bruce wayne. minor language. too much love. may cause unrealistic expectations of breakfast.gentle smut if you squint. robe removal as a love language. heavy on the softness. suggestive content. emotionally vulnerable bruce wayne. minor language. too much love. may cause unrealistic expectations of breakfast conversations. ooc. second chance but in a found family way. alfred addresses reader as "m'lady" because yes. & he's british. yes.

ᰔ look around . . . m. list && detective comics m. list

────── vi whispers . . . ᰔ

001. "for anyone who has ever hoped for a second chance." heh.. GUESS WHERE I GOT THAT FROM!!!!

002. also also for @cinnamongrl2006 for being patient w me😭 & kidnapping me back to the fandom ilysm

003. "poor attempt in being poetic" i mean it. I CAN'T 💔💔

004. but im trying chat.. if there's a grammatical error,,, IM SORRRYRYYRYRYRYRYR😭😭😭😭

005. can u guys tell that i want a baby. but i don't wanna give birth. i don't wanna do that w a man. my family is against adoption for some reason. && i wanna take care of a child URGHHHHHHHHHHH

006. might as well be a kindergarten teacher

you normally wake up to him.

his arms already wrapped around you, sometimes the pressure of his gaze heavy against your skin before your eyes even have a chance to flutter open. sometimes, he's gently sweeping an errant strand of hair away from your forehead, planting a kiss on your cheek with that rare, faint softness you only ever get from him.

but today, the bed is immobile, & he's immobile.

your body slips smoothly from his, as if unsticking yourself from something holy. it's a bit colder without him, even in the huge heat of the master bedroom, but you smile anyway.

because this? this means something.

this means he trusts you.

enough to sleep without his armor on.

enough to remain sleeping even when you leave.

you look back at him▰face oh, so gorgeous, a small furrow still between his eyes from years of nightmares & fights & weights no one should bear. the type of man who's never let his guard down.

except with you.

you slide into something more relaxed, softer. something less... scandalous. not because you object, but because the children are another story. they adore you, they do▰deeply. but they also understand how utterly undone their father becomes when you so much as inhale anything remotely enticing. & none of them want to witness bruce wayne malfunctioning before coffee.

your naked feet pad against the chilly halls of wayne manor, ringing a bit off against marble & history. you walk by framed portraits. some old, some new. family, in all the disarray of ways it has created. & your fingers run over the railing like muscle memory.

the kitchen has the scent of heaven. warm coffee, toast bread, warmth.

"good morning, m'lady."

alfred's voice is a soft violin string, smooth & proper, but containing that unmistakable tenderness he can never quite keep from you.

your own head tips up in a smile. "the kids aren't up yet?"

he sets down your plate with gentle care. "i woke them up a bit earlier. they'll be here any moment now."

& as if called, you hear the beat of footsteps▰light but purposeful.

damian arrives first. of course he does. always the first to train, first to cross the line, first to tell you that your coffee is an abomination.

his shoulders are squared, his stance precise, but when he catches sight of you, something flashes in his hard green eyes. something much more… genuine.

"good morning, damian," you tell him, voice relaxed.

he nods, takes the chair next to you. "good morning."

& it's genuine. reserved, almost abrupt, but not cold. no longer.

he's trying. adjusting. learning that love doesn't equal weakness.

he hasn't forgotten his mother. not at all.

but he regards you as if you could be something he never believed he'd ever have. a second chance at love. at tenderness. at home.

soon after, the others trickle in. tim with sleep in his eyes & coffee already in hand, dick with that easy grin that never quite fades, jason with a grunt & a smirk & hair still damp from a too-hot shower.

“morning, mom,” dick says, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he walks by.

jason could only let out a grunt & a nod as a greeting, stealing a piece of toast.

“morning,” tim mumbles, voice muffled by the coffee mug.

they all greet you now as if it's the most natural thing in the world. like you've always been there.

& perhaps you have, kind of. not only in the manor.

but in their spaces.

in the wounds they didn't even realize needed to heal.

in the mother-shaped holes no one wanted to discuss.

you chat. about little things. silly things. jason's failed cooking attempt last night. dick joking with tim about his new crush. damian rolling his eyes at them all but not budging from your side.

you're giggling at something. most likely at jason & dick arguing over whose socks were stolen▰when the air changes.

& you sense him before you see him.

bruce wayne sweeps into the room like a storm in silk.

dark cloak sagging loosely over his muscular build. hair still rumpled. eyes relaxed the moment they light on you.

"good morning, love," you murmur as you rise to your feet, arms around his neck.

his hands▰big, roughened, gentle▰wrap around your waist as he bends toward you. you kiss him & he exhales into it like a man who's been down too long.

his lips linger an extra fraction of a second. your noses touch.

the children groan in the background. alfred clears his throat, pointedly gazing at the scrambled eggs.(he's used to this. give this man a raise.)

you pull back, hardly stifling your smile.

he regards you as if you're the only thing sane in a world of madness. like you're gravity. home. peace.

breakfast goes on. bruce arrives halfway through, hand never really leaving yours. his fingers brush your knuckles beneath the table. his thigh against yours, a quiet comfort. a habit he can't break.

at last, one by one, the children slip away to do their business▰patrol briefings, training, reading, vanishing into wherever the manor engulfs them.

alfred gathers the dishes. you offer your aid, but he waves you off with a sly grin.

"bon appétit, m'lady. i think the master has something in mind."

your eyebrows rise, but your hand settles into bruce's. his hold is quick. but gentle.

he escorts you upstairs, through the corridors. quiet envelops you, warm & intimate. the bedroom door closes behind you, & the world slows down.

his robe comes first.

then yours.

& then his lips find yours again. urgent now, but still reverent. still like he’s learning your shape all over again. like you’re holy & he’s not sure he deserves to pray but he will anyway.

his hands on your back. your nails in his hair. the quiet sound of breathless laughter. of wanting. of years of love built in silence & shadow & something deeper than words.

the room is full of the stillness that follows your kiss, the one that leaves you gasping but fulfilled, like something holy. bruce relaxes against the bed, his chest heaving as if the world has just been put on pause to this moment. his body under yours, you & he both snarled in sheets, warm skin, limbs against each other in the only way that feels right when it's just the two of you.

he strokes your hair, fingers tracing against your scalp in a way that causes you to dissolve even further than you ever knew you could.

"you okay?" his voice is low, a little rough around the edges, like he's struggling to maintain control, to not let the walls he's spent years constructing fall down entirely.

you nod, your chin on his chest, listening to his heartbeat steady under your ear. "yeah. more than okay."

his hand moves down the length of your back, his fingertips tracing over the curve of your waist, the warmth of his touch setting your skin afire. nothing is rushed about the way he touches you any longer. this is the post-coital warmth of something authentic, of that place where language is unnecessary.

his fingers wander down to your side, drawing slow, careful lines. you let your eyes fall shut for a moment, the sense of being so utterly comfortable with him a pleasure to behold. it's a precious thing, the vulnerability bruce lets himself feel in your presence.

"i love you," he tells you, the words raw but soft. "i don't know what i'd do without you."

you smile softly, lifting your head to look at him, your hands resting on his chest, over his heart. "you’ll never have to find out."

the air changes between you once more, not with such haste as last time but with that slow-burning heat that always comes after moments such as these. you lean in to kiss him again, gentle at first, like the morning sun that doesn't hurry to come up but slowly fills the space with light.

but there's a hunger there too, a silent longing that never really goes away, not even after all that you've shared. his mouth makes the kiss deeper, & soon, you & he are lost in rhythm with one another again.

bruce's hands move up your spine, drawing you in as if he's trying to commit to memory the way you fit against him. his lips find your neck, kissing down the curve of it, his breath warm against your skin, making you shiver. your hands grab at his hair, drawing him in.

& then▰just as the world outside would have it▰there's a knock at the door.

"sir, m'lady," alfred's voice outside.

you could hear him clear his throat before continuing. "breakfast was▰wonderful, but perhaps you might join us for the remainder of the day's activities?"

you & bruce stand stock-still, eyes huge. alfred has impeccable timing.(possibly because of the kids.)

bruce groans, but there's a smile on his face, & he kisses you goodbye one more time, his lips brushing yours lightly. "we'll get them next time," he says, his voice low, almost playful.

you smile quietly, a quiet, contented noise that hangs in the stillness of the room. there is no hurry to move away. indeed, the two of you remain like that for a bit longer, your bodies entwined, still warm from the moments you've just shared.

eventually, the two of you rise▰smiling, because it's the sort of thing you'd both do, all the years & masks aside. you both put your clothes back on, every moment with him another page in a book that's never really done.

as you enter the hallway, hand in hand, the sound of your children's voices echoes down the stairs. it's a gentle symphony, the cacophony of their personalities resonating in the air. & you know▰this is home.

you're not merely bruce wayne's wife anymore. you're their mother as well, in every way that counts.

you're not only damian's second chance in love▰but everyone's. the kids' chance to embrace the love of a mother. alfred's chance to embrace you like his daughter. & bruce's chance in embracing the warmth you offer to him.

their second chance in everything.

© MINORLYATFAULT 2025

[dontlookatme121]

here are all of the fics i enjoyed between march 1st-11th 2025! some new, some old. mostly smut so MDNI!

characters: javier peña, joel miller, frankie morales, dave york, marcus acacius

if this works out, i may keep posting these little recaps whenever i have a some recs built up. i wanted to share my thoughts and some quotes instead of just listing the name and author, and i quickly realized a monthly list would be too long for that. i hope you can find some good reads and show the authors a little love!

note to the authors: ilyyy. you all have amazing minds, and deserve so so much appreciation. thank you for sharing your work, and enabling me to read smut instead of watch movies <3 if you were tagged in this and would like to have your work removed for any reason, please let me know!

WARNING: many of these fics contain dark themes that could be triggering. i will try to label accordingly, but PLEASE read the warnings. not all of these are for everyone!

smut- ♡ angst- ★ fluff- ✿ dark- !!

♡ wicked whims by @myownwholewildworld (wc: 1.1k - oneshot)

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

summary: javi catches you playing wicked whims in the sims and decides to make your fantasies a reality.

thoughts: march started out incredibly strong with this absolute banger. this fic IS FOR ME. i feel seen, i feel understood, i feel sexually frustrated. i will be reinstalling wicked whims tonight, consider my first sims 4 phase of 2025 activated.

★ ♡ who will i say goodnight to when you're gone? by @miss-oranje-disco-dancer (wc: 3.6k - oneshot)

pairing: javier peña x reader

summary: you are javi are just coworkers who sleep together, nothing more

thoughts: AGHHH. the smutty angst is so good. i cant put it into words so i’ll just let it speak for itself:

'Maybe Javier kisses because it's the one form of intimacy that doesn't force you to look the other person in the eye. Eyes are the window to the soul, they say. Javi's eyes contain a softness that you cannot find outside of warm summer nights that exist so far in space and time that you can barely reach the memories. He holds hope in his entire body — hope isn't usually a pretty little thing that Emily Dickinson said it was - it's hardened and stubborn, it is the fucking metal bars that keep him here in Colombia despite it all.'

♡ !! nena mala by @pedrosyouknowwhat (oneshot) !! TW !!

pairing: Dark! Javier Peña x Dark! Reader

summary: After the fall of the godfathers, Peña takes his personally desired target.

thoughts: god i love it when javier peña is the worst person ever. hello my old friend, degradation kink.

★ The boyfriend act, part 7: "The one with unexpected visit” by @capuccinodoll (ch wc: 10.4k - series) (★- only angst as of now?)

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

SERIES summary: All you wanted was to get to Austin, but instead of your brother, it’s Frankie —Santi’s best friend, the one you can barely stand— who shows up in Dallas. He’s just doing your brother a favor, but the trip takes an unexpected turn when a stop puts you face to face with your ex — the guy who broke your heart three months ago and is now about to get married.

Out of pride, you blurt out a lie: Frankie is your boyfriend. Surprised but willing to play along, he agrees, with one condition — you must accompany him to his mother’s birthday. His plan? Dodge his family’s meddling and their endless matchmaking schemes.

thoughts: im absolutely obsessed with this series, you really dont want to get me started… this WILL continue to show up in future fic rec posts because it’s so so good omg (read it). if for some reason you’d like to read a more extensive version of my thoughts on this chapter, you can read this incredibly long reblog.

♡ Eight Ball Corner Pocket by @thechaoticcherub (wc: 7.7k - oneshot)

pairing: Jackson!Joel x Plus Size!Reader

summary: Reader goes on a really bad date, Joel steps in to help make her forget it.

thoughts: this was such a lovely read (and so hot omfg). i cannot recommend this enough.

'“Quit it,” He said, “Don’t you think for a single second that you’re the one reachin’ here, i’m old enough to be your daddy and you’re…look at you.” You could see barely controlled lust in his eyes as they roamed over your body and the way he did it didn’t make you feel like he was appraising you to see if you were worth it. He was appreciating you. Appreciating the way your breasts stretched the fabric of your dress and the way you could see the curve of your belly, the way your thighs pressed together. You stared at him, trying to take in the truth of his statement, trying to remember how pretty you had found yourself that morning before you had been reminded of all the insecurities of your teenage years.'

♡ !! because of you by @almostempty (wc: 7k - oneshot) !! TW !!

pairing: dave york x f!reader

summary: You reveal at a party that you've never cried during sex, but Dave is going to fix that for you.

thoughts: ill never forget you, unreliable narrator dave york. the way he obsesses over the reader, picking apart all of their conversations and interpreting everything in his special delusional way. UGH ITS SO GOOD. to keep this part brief, i will simply implore you to READ THIS (after you read the warnings), its brilliant.

'After that night, he notices you change tactics. You feed him little crumbs in every conversation. Leads you know he’ll follow. Hints about the weak spots in your relationship, your unlived dreams, your pent up desires. He knows what you’re asking for. He reads exactly what you’re saying between the lines. His walls are crumbling and it gets harder and harder to be the one solely responsible for keeping the boundaries between you. He compartmentalizes. Conceding. You can have his dreams, his showers, his mornings. Take them. Keep them. But it’s never enough. It grows stronger. To obsession.'

update: the award for the fic i thought about most after reading it goes to this beauty. i admitted in my reblog that i had never seen the equalizer movies, but this made me want to finally watch them so i could appreciate this to its fullest extent, and i did! i also sent this to my friend who doesn't read ppcu fics because its just that good. i'm not getting over this any time soon.

✿ Just Coffee by @daryltwdixon (two parts)

pairing: joel miller x reader

'"Coffee. Just coffee." You could’ve kissed him right then and there. And he was handsome enough that you wouldn’t even have to close your eyes. He must’ve caught the way your shoulders relaxed, how the sigh left your body like a weight lifted.'

♡ Just Coffee II

summary: Joel picks you up after a long day, taking you somewhere small and familiar, where conversation flows as easily as the wine. As the night winds down and Joel insists on driving you home, neither of you are ready to say goodbye quite yet.

thoughts: this healed the ex-barista/assistant manager in me. to put it simply, pt.1 is fluffy joel gold and pt.2 is smutty joel GOLD. chefs kiss.

unnecessary lore drop: i (18 at the time) got asked out by a regular (65) and he DID NOT look like joel miller. maybe gary was the hot old man for someone, but def not for me. the owner of the coffee shop (50, married) had a huge crush on him, so that was amusing i guess.

♡ One Of The Girls by @gothcsz (wc: 1.1k - oneshot)

pairing: Marcus Acacius x F!Reader x 3 F!Nameless OCs

summary: General Acacius has three women that he keeps solely for his indulgent pleasure and control, you want to become the fourth.

thoughts: GORGEOUS. the picture has been painted in my mind and it’s going to haunt me. this is just insane work, really. i need 4 more parts and a few days to recover.

‘The first time you heard whispers of his indulgences, you had thought them scandalous. A man of bloodshed, ruthless on the battlefield, bringing that same ruthless discipline into the bedroom. But when you had seen him that night, wielding pleasure like a weapon, you had known—this was the life you were meant for. Since then, obsession had taken root in you, winding tight around your ribs, pressing against your lungs with every thought of him. You spent your days languishing in fantasies, picturing what it would be like to be one of his girls—to be chosen, touched, tamed.’

♡ First Sight by @gothcsz (wc: 3.5k - oneshot)

pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader

summary: Two strangers discover they’ve been swapping movies through a communal space, each leaving a note in return until curiosity forces a meeting.

thoughts: great smut. great banter. HOT. i need that man so bad.

'Things escalate fast. You’re sitting on the couch, the low hum of the movie playing in the background, the two of you exchanging quiet comments between drags of the joint he so effortlessly rolled. The space between you shrinks. His fingers graze your thigh, intentional but unhurried. You don’t remember who moves first. Maybe it’s you. Maybe it’s him. But your bodies are pressed together, mouths hungry, hands wandering. His cap gets flicked off, curls spilling into your fingers as you tug him closer, inhaling the scent of smoke and tasting the candy he’d been snacking on. The movie is forgotten. The joint smolders in the ashtray. You straddle his lap, rolling your hips down, and he groans against your mouth, gripping your waist.'

dividers by: cherry divider- @uzmacchiato, mdni divider- @strangergraphics, red divider- @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[blingblong55]

'Tis the time for cuddles -141

^COD men bc they are so cute and deserve this

Based on a request:

Hi, could I request a 141 cuddle pile on a cold fall morning with platonic reader? It could be gender neutral or fem, up to you. :) ---GN!Reader, fluff, platonic!relationship, cuddling --- A/N: Niall Horan is the reason I write fluff tbh…so let's thank my favourite husband

Autumn, the season for the golden leaves, pumpkin lattes, cardigans, the snuggle you get to your blankets on cold mornings and this moment right here, cuddling your teammates. You were in the middle. Your head on Price's lap, Soap getting caressed by your soft touch and on your right side, his head on your chest. Gaz between your thighs, smiling now and then when your hand would scratch his head. Ghost on your left, head on your stomach and looking up with puppy eyes if you stopped playing with his hair. This was the only time he took his mask off, just in the comfort of your room and with his mates.

"Price," you look up, begging for more head rubs. He chuckles, "You're so needy and for what," he pretends to be annoyed but smiles when your face softens from his touch. It's peace for once in your life. You can't control most things in this life, not where you get deployed, not where you die, not how you die and how you live on as a soldier. Yet, there is one thing that can be controlled, this, this moment right here with your people. The fucked up family you made along the way, the soldiers that find reasons to finally let go and sleep in the comfort of your bed. A tight cuddle, trying to keep anyone from falling off the bed but it's nice.

It's not perfect, nothing will ever be perfect and yet for a moment in this life, being in bed, cuddled on a chilly autumn morning, is the closest it gets to perfection. You sigh, content with the life you've been given. No wars, no grenades thrown, explosives scattering bodies or blood on the walls, it was just a cosy room. A room, filled with snores, warmth, too many body parts begging to be comforted and you, in the middle of such a beautiful moment. "Sleep," Ghosy whispers as his thumb caresses your tummy. You smile and then Soap nuzzles his face to your neck.

"Don't leave me out," Gaz whispers and you nod. "Like I ever would," you smile and he hums happily. His face is now on your tummy, Ghost tries to move him aside so he could be the one on your soft tummy. "Stop mate- R/N, tell 'im to stop," Ghost looks up at you like a child looking at its parent. "Boys," you say in such a way they look at each other and nod. "Sorry," they both mumble and coexist as they comfort themselves with you.

This is how the day is, you all get up, hair all messy and Price keeps snoring loudly. For the first time, everyone has a lazy day, with takeout for lunch and takeout with beers for dinner. Conversations about life, memories, lazy laughter, promises for the future and memories for old soldiers to tell their grandkids. All in one day, a life far from their usual, just for one day.

Tags:

@airghostlyfox @aethelwyneleigh27 @liyanahelena

[tickly-trashcan]

Fond Memories {Ratchet x Optimus Prime}

Hear Me Out Cake Event!

A/N: DONT LOOK AT ME OLD MAN YAOI HAS ME IN A CHOKEHOLD i love these two to bits im sick and i am not even going to try and pretend i dont think theyre cute because THEY ARE!! so heres some ratchop fluff because i think they deserve it hehe ENJOY!!

(Ratchet was requested by @gaybananabread, so here's a little tag hehe hope you enjoy!)

Summary: Ratchet held Optimus behind from a scouting mission, and the two begin to reminisce.

Word Count: 1.4k (under the cut!)

It was quiet in the base. Bumblebee, Bulkhead, and Arcee were all on scouting missions by themselves at various locations and Jack, Miko, and Raf were all in school. Optimus and Ratchet were the only ones at the base, which was a refreshing change of pace for Ratchet. Even though he was busy with maintenance on the ground bridge and some other technological tidbits, it was still comforting having the base to himself and Optimus.

Optimus, who had been planning on going on a scouting mission himself, was sitting in the medbay. He watched Ratchet suspiciously as he worked on the ground bridge, too focused on what he was doing to make conversation.

Optimus did not mind the silence. He appreciated it, in fact. But he could not help but wonder why exactly Ratchet had told him to stay behind from the scouting mission. Yes, he had been feeling slightly delirious the day before after an encounter with some Decepticons, but he felt perfectly fine now. And with Ratchet clearly engrossed in his maintenance, Optimus was not sure he should interrupt.

“And… that should do it,” Ratchet finally said, stepping away from the monitor for a moment. He turned to face Optimus, still glancing at the monitor, then finally turned his attention back to the Autobot leader. “Sorry, that took a bit longer than I was expecting.”

“I appreciate that you spend so much time maintaining our base, Ratchet. Please don’t apologize,” Optimus said with a small smile.

Ratchet rubbed the back of his neck with a servo, suddenly bashful. “Well, I– Thank you, Optimus.”

Optimus nodded his helm. “Now, I do have a question, Ratchet.”

Ratchet raised an optical ridge and walked over to Optimus, sitting next to him on the medbay table. “What is it?”

Optimus furrowed his optical ridge in concern. “Is there… any particular reason to keep me behind aside from ‘doctor’s orders’? I feel quite fine right now…”

Ratchet waved a servo. “Well, you had direct contact with the ‘Cons yesterday! I have to monitor your processor for potential damage, and I didn’t get a thorough screening of the rest of your frame before you recharged. In fact, that reminds me, let’s do a scan right now—”

“Ratchet, I feel fine… Did you just keep me back to spend time with me?”

The bluntness of Optimus’ question made Ratchet sputter. “I– I– What? No! That would be– I wouldn’t–” The look Optimus gave him made Ratchet sigh in defeat. “Okay, yes, maybe I did. But all the others had scouting missions, and it would have been too quiet here.”

Optimus chuckled a bit at that. “You and I both know you would prefer the solitude that the scouting missions would have provided.”

Ratchet reached for Optimus’ servo, taking it in his own. “Is it so wrong for me to want some time with you, Optimus? It’s not often that we get time together, just the two of us. Not since… Not since a very long time ago.”

Optimus nodded his helm sadly and then pressed his forehelm against Ratchet’s. He squeezed Ratchet’s servo lightly and sighed. “I know… There are times when I begin to reminisce about the times we had before everything happened, but the memories are now burdened with the pain we have gone through since.”

“I wish things could have been different,” Ratchet said softly. “For all of the Autobots. For all of us here. For you.”

Optimus stiffened. “I should not receive any sort of special treatment just because of what I have gone through. We have all been through many grueling events, and I would not wish for anyone to suffer more so that I could have even the briefest moment of relief.” He noticed that Ratchet was beginning to tremble, and he squeezed his servo again. “There are many things I would change if I could go back. Many, many things. But I would never change what I have gone through with you.”

Ratchet softened at that. He looked up at Optimus and offered a small smile, cupping Optimus’ faceplate with his servo. “I wouldn’t change a single moment I’ve spent with you.” Optimus put a servo over Ratchet’s, tilted his helm, and kissed the palm of Ratchet’s servo. Ratchet began to ramble at this. “Of course, if I did have some way to go back in time or erase some memories from your processor, I have a few unflattering moments I would like to undo.”

A small, rare grin crept up Optimus’ face. “Oh? Enlighten me, Ratchet. I can’t seem to recall any unflattering moments with you.”

Ratchet’s rambling only increased. “Well, there was that time where I got stuck in the trash chute after I was trying to find some of my tools, and there was the other time when you were tickling me for some sort of useless information, and then there was the time when you walked in on me—”

Optimus nodded as Ratchet rambled. He loved listening to him talk, even more so when he was bringing up these memories that Optimus had almost completely forgotten about. He chuckled after a few moments when Ratchet was finally beginning to trail off. “Oh, and now I’m hoping to erase this moment since you clearly were setting me up to ramble and you probably didn’t even remember half of what I just said… Stop smiling like that, Optimus!”

Optimus could not help but chuckle. “Well, you’re almost entirely correct. I didn’t mean to set you up, however. You sort of just… did that yourself.”

Ratchet groaned and buried his face in his servos. “Can you send me to the Allspark now?”

Optimus shook his helm and put a servo on Ratchet’s shoulder, pulling him close. “Not quite yet, Ratchet.” Ratchet sighed and leaned into Optimus, lulled by the rhythmic and gentle rubbing from Optimus’ servo on his shoulder. “I’m starting to remember the moments you were just recalling… They are recorded with very fond feelings in my processor.”

Ratchet grumbled. “Even the one with the trash chute?”

Optimus hummed. “Even the one with the trash chute. Another one I especially love is the one where I was tickling you for information. You were hiding something from me that day, though I cannot recall what it was.”

“It was a birthday gift! And you spoiled it for yourself,” Ratchet huffed with a chuckle. “I was trying to keep it a surprise, but as soon as you figured out that I was keeping it from you, you wouldn’t leave me alone.”

Optimus nodded, letting his servo travel slightly down Ratchet’s side. Ratchet stiffened when he felt Optimus’ digits lightly graze his side. “I did spoil that gift, didn’t I? But I got to hear your wonderful laugh, so I cannot truly say I regret what I did.”

“O-Optimus, whatever you’re planning on– don’t,” Ratchet said softly, his voice shaking slightly.

Optimus feigned innocence and frowned, looking at Ratchet with a raised optical ridge. “I don’t seem to know what you’re talking about…”

“Optimus–!” Ratchet giggled nervously when Optimus began to drum his digits lightly on his side. “I swear to Primus, I will– AHAhaha! Ohohoptimus!”

Optimus began to lightly scribble his digits across Ratchet’s side, allowing his other servo to join in as Ratchet squirmed beside him. He smiled softly, taking in Ratchet’s bubbling laughter that was becoming increasingly rare.

“Your laugh is just as lovely as how I remember it. Why do I not get to hear it more often?” Optimus said, his tone just barely teasing. Ratchet seemed to be torn between swatting at Optimus’ servos and covering his faceplate to prevent any more of his laugh from escaping. “Please don’t try and hide your laugh, Ratchet…”

“Buhuhut– But it tickles! Ohohoptimus! Not thehehere!” Ratchet wailed, his raspy laugh bubbling over even more as Optimus’ servos crept up his sides towards the seams around the sides of his chest.

“I’m glad you reminded me of your being ticklish… I missed doing this.” Optimus said gently, enamored by Ratchet’s laugh. He smiled fondly at his partner until Ratchet nearly squirmed off the medbay table.

“Plehehehease–! No mohore!!”

Optimus ceased as soon as Ratchet asked him to, folding his servos in his lap as he waited for Ratchet to catch his breath. “You– You– Ugh… Don’t look at me like that, it makes it hard to be mad at you!”

Optimus hummed and pressed his dermas to Ratchet’s forehelm. Optimus cupped his faceplate, offering a small smile in apology. With a grumble, Ratchet accepted it and kissed the palm of Optimus’ servo.

“Want to remind me of any other wonderful memories?”

“Absolutely not!”

[randall-lloyd]

Warning: Rudy gets VERY sappy and a lot of people are abt to be tagged n told how radical they are IM SORRY THAT YOURE GETTING A STUPID NOTIF LIKE THIS

So the past.... Month. Has been very eventful. Coping with a rough break up, work being hard. I'm almost 21 I kinda figured it'd be rough being in my 20s. I really was expecting it to be the end of the world, but then I made a really good choice.

I joined a few discord servers over this month, and I can't begin to explain just how wonderful that's been for my mental health.

I've made so many new beautiful friends who just mean the world to me, and those new friends along with old friends and my beautiful angel wife who's stuck with me while we both heal, it's just nice.

I wanna say a few words [or a lot words. I'm a yapper] and I jus wanna really detail my appreciation for the following people.

@your-pal-smoochins, my perfect angel wife. You and I have had a lot of things against us. You've been such an amazing support system through these past couple years and I don't tell you enough just how much I love and appreciate everything you do for me. You lift me up when I really need it and I've never felt more loved than when you've been by my side. Thanks for being my rock, my sun moon and stars, and just thank you for being mine. You do so much more than you give yourself credit for, having escaped the situation you were in and going to college. You're so strong, and you're my beautiful angel forever.

@carbonateddelusion Rox! You were one of the first friends I made when everything got locked down and my first memory of you was drawing some of my guys. I dunno if you know but those gifts are still in my phone. I look at those and your newer stuff and I'm just beyond amazed at your progress. You've been a really amazing friend and I love you, man. You really rock, rox [yes that was on purpose]

@toondamien Damien!! one of my very first tumblr friends and the guy who lets me use his oc for my story stuff! You're a little older than me, and as such you've kinda been a role model to me. I still look up to you [metaphorically, hehe] and I'm glad you're my No. 1 DSAF mutual. You're great, dude.

@springlucked Spring. Though we only started talking recently, you are still someone I consider a dear friend. Your fics got me out of some really bad art blocks and my really low days. While Dearly Detested makes me cry and fills me with just the right amount of emotions to break a tree in half, you are so awesome. Your writing is so good and you're so humble when you get gift art from people regarding your fics. You are like a slightly bothersome little sister and for that I love you, ya lil punk.

@dexabite Dex Dane Dexabite Freakabite Miller Jekyll Jade [not real name. obviously] my sworn enemy /j. Your art rocks. Your art inspired a lot of my more detailed pieces and your character design stuff actually made me wanna branch out more not just with character design, but also poses and colors! You're an inspiration to this guy who mainly draws that dumb orange boy and ily /p

@igottoo MJ!! Like if I was a second person! You rock dude. Your art? slaps. Your animation? slaps. Your insane jokes? Slaps. you unintentionally gave me a pose reference that made me leap out of my comfort zone and yknow what? People loved it!! And thats because you're so cool! We scarily have a lot in common so the reasonable assumption is we are in fact the same guy [silly] but i love you to BITS /p. My lagomorphed brethren and the guy I'll be sending my Dave doodles to before showing the public. You're a bro, dawg. As the No. 1 Old Sport fan I'm VERY glad I'm best pals with THE No. 1 Dave Miller fan.

thank you all for being my friends. You guys make my heart full and make me wanna keep working towards being a good person

[carlos-in-glasses]

Fic Pride Friday - on a Saturday!

Thank you for the tag @freneticfloetry @lemonlyman-dotcom @bonheur-cafe

@literateowl @ladytessa74 @liminalmemories21 🧡 And for giving me a reason to create a banner for non-WIP tag games.

Rules: Post your favourite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.

I've opted to share from three fics- Suddenly in the Silence, Where All This Love Comes From, and Wrestling Angels:

Suddenly, in the Silence:

"I think the closet is haunted," TK says, fumbling the buttons of his lapelled pajama shirt. Carlos faces the opposite side of the room. "But it's from Ikea." "Not that one." TK throws an arm towards the white pre-fab nothingy unit that had housed their pajamas. "I mean the old Reyes relic." "My dad's tatarabuelo built that," Carlos says defensively. And occupies it now, TK thinks but does not say. Instead, he opts for, "It might be fun to sleep in your old bedroom like we did that time before. Snuggled up in that creaky twin with your adorable horse comforter over us." "My old room," Carlos breathes a laugh, "Is the most haunted in this house." "With memories, though, not ghosts."

Where All This Love Comes From

A single tear slips from Carlos' eye. Years ago, there was a young man in New York City called TK Strand and he had no idea that in Austin, Texas, a stranger called Carlos Reyes was aching, yearning, pining for exactly him. He had no idea how loved he was going to be by someone he had yet to meet. He had no idea how wonderful he was as a person with or without a partner – but he was about to find out. That's why you have to keep living, Carlos thinks, so you can find out.

Wrestling Angels

But love is going to come into his life, and it won’t be what he’ll expect, because it’s going to be TK Strand, a firefighter who shows up in Austin from Manhattan following a relapse. He’s a little fierce and rough and moody and funny. He’ll bring disorder to the orderly life he’s about to work so hard to create for himself and himself alone. TK will cause him pain, and he’ll push TK’s buttons, and then it’s going to work out, and he’s going to marry him. And TK is going to be the one to ask. Love is going to be powerful, runaway, gutting, enormous – yet weirdly and utterly defined by the small moments as much as the major events. It’s going to feel physical and invisible, like storm winds that take his breath and knock him off his feet. He’s going to have sex. He’ll have it with a few guys before TK, and every time with each of those guys, it will be somewhere on a sliding scale of outright bad, awkward, embarrassing, mediocre, good, better, great, fantastic. With TK it will be different. Supercharged, mind-blowing, right from the start, and it will also be gentle, romantic, connective in a new way. It will always be a deeper experience than with anyone else. It’s going to mean something real every time, even from the beginning when TK insists that it’s not going to, and Carlos will pretend as much as he can that he doesn’t mind.

I know I'm late so might have missed things but open tag and tags below:

@reyesstrand @paperstorm @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @heartstringsduet

@vineofroses @theghostofashton @lightningboltreader @chaotictarlos

@goodways @welcometololaland @orchidscript @rmd-writes

@strandnreyes @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @chicgeekgirl89

@sznofthesticks @nancygillianmvp @safeaswrites @my-little-tilly

@sugdenlovesdingle @carlos-tk @honeybee-taskforce @sanjuwrites

@alrightbuckaroo @never-blooms

@fallout-mars - If you want to share/haven't already! No pressure ever! ❤️🩷🧡💛💚💙🩵💜

[pedroshotwifey]

Favorite Bounty Chapter 3

Series masterlist

Pairing: Din Djarin x afab reader

Chapter W/C: 9k

Chapter tags/warnings: SMUT!! (Ik, finally), vaginal fingering, blowjobs, oral sex, female masturbation, lil bit of angst, no use of y/n, reader being a horny cuss, getting caught, canon-typical violence, I'm probably forgetting stuff but let's just say im not, PLEASE READ AUTHOR'S NOTE UNDER THE CUT

Chapter summary: You and Mando get to know each other a bit more...intimately. Despite your frustrations, you learn that you really can't resist the man.

A/N: Hey, I'm going to go ahead and put it out there that these first few chapters will not be the best. Favorite Bounty was the first thing I ever wrote, so please keep that in mind. I have gone through and edited the small things so there is a bit of improvement from when it was originally posted to ao3. After chapter 4 is out, every chapter after that will be brand new and will have better grammar/writing. Thanks for reading! :)

***

You wake up stiff as a rock.

When you open your eyes, you don't recognize your surroundings through the grogginess of sleep. You only panic for a second though, before you remember where you are. 

Memories of last night begin to flood your head and you feel a blush creeping onto your cheeks as you remember why you probably feel so stiff. You had slept on top of Mando the entire night.

You have to stop the gasp that threatens to escape when your eyes come into focus and you realize that you are still in the same spot as you had fallen asleep in. You feel the cool metal of Mando’s breastplate biting into your cheek. 

You are laying sprawled out on top of the Mandalorian. Your hands are resting flat on his chest on either side of your head and your legs are almost straddling his torso under the blanket. 

You feel one of his hands resting gently on your back, his thumb absentmindedly stroking circles over your shirt. His other arm lays beneath his head, acting as a makeshift pillow. 

Your mind is screaming at you to jump up and get yourself away from the Mandalorian, but your body isn’t listening. You feel your muscles loosen as your eyes slowly flutter shut. Part of you wants to just pretend that you’re still asleep. Maybe if he thinks that you aren't aware of his subtle affection, he will hold and soothe you longer. 

You have a suspicion that he wouldn't want you to be aware of the gentle intimacy of the entire situation. He might have been okay with it last night, but for some reason, you know he wouldn't want to have so many emotions on display for you. 

To be honest, you think that Mando may be a little touch starved. The thought almost makes you giggle, and you have to catch yourself so as not to disturb your current position

You try to focus on the lazy circles Mando’s thumb is continuing to make to distract yourself from smiling. You can't seem to remember the last time you felt this safe and content. Kriff–maybe you were touch starved too.

It's surprisingly comfortable to lay on the heap of beskar, but you figure that feeling may come from the fact that it is Mando that you are on top of. It literally feels like one of your fantasies has come to life, and there is no way you are going to end it sooner than you need to. You would lay here forever if you had the option. 

You have no idea if he is still asleep or not, though if you had to guess it would be the latter. You figure you should savor the comforting feeling before he inevitably separates from you and resorts back to his old cranky self. Letting out a small sigh, you nuzzle your head onto his chest and allow yourself to let go of any worries for the time being.

Without opening your eyes, your brows furrow when you feel Mandos' thumb abruptly stop the soft motions on your back.

“Cyar’ika?”

If the sudden sound of the Mandalorian’s voice just barely crackling through the modulator hadn’t sounded so soothing, the intrusion would have made you jump. You worried that if you opened your eyes again, Mando would be gone and you would be laying alone in your cot, waking up from a dream. 

You wouldn't be able to stand it if all of this was just a figment of your imagination, so just in case, you kept your eyes tightly shut as you responded.

“Mhm?”

It wasn’t much of a response, but it was a response nonetheless. You shift your hands to fold under your chin so you can prop yourself up and off of the cold feel of beskar. When Mando stays silent, you risk slowly opening your eyes to peer up at him.

You sigh with contentment when you meet his gaze. You can't help but flash him a small smile as you make what you hope is eye contact. Seeing your admiration, Mando lifts his hand up from your back to rest it softly on your head, cradling you closer to him. 

You let your eyes droop slightly as he begins to stroke your hair. The intimacy of the whole situation is overwhelming enough to bring you to tears, but you hold them back and savor the moment instead. It's nice to know that he apparently doesn't mind you seeing his affections.

“Sleep well?” he asks you. You shiver at the sound of his voice. It's the same baritone as usual, but laced with traces of sleep. He sounds as at ease as you feel, and you love that he knows he can let his guard down around you. 

As you open your mouth to respond, you feel the ship lurch. Before you even realize what is going on, Mando has lifted you up by your arms and plopped you back down in the mess of blankets beneath you. 

As you try to reorient yourself, the ship moves again, almost as if something was pushing hard on the side of it. You look up to Mando, eyes wide with alarm and confusion. He is already running towards the ladder of the cockpit, presumably to check what's going on outside. 

You are standing by the time he jumps back down into the hull. 

“Damn pirates,” he answers your question before you have a chance to voice it. “Grab the kid and get into my bunk,” he instructs you. “The heat killed the rest of our fuel. We’re stuck on the surface until we get more.”

You gape at him as he struts to the gun locker and pulls out two blasters and a rifle. You can see the unmistakable tension in his stride as he rushes past where you are still glued to the floor. 

He starts to reach for the button so he can lower the ramp before he notices that you still haven’t moved. “Grab the kid and get in the damn bunk!” he barks at you.

The command sends you into motion and you fly to the back of the hull to retrieve the child from his closed hover pram. He was still sleeping and he startled when you snatched him up - you winced and made a mental note to apologize later. 

You make record time crossing back to hit a button with your open palm and clamber into Mando’s bunk. As you start to turn around so you could close the bunk door, you see the ramp of the ship slam down, letting a rush of cold wind blow inside. 

The pirates had blasted it open and caught Mando off guard. As he realized what happened, he swiveled around to face your direction before pulling the trigger on his blaster. You felt your mouth go dry at the image of the Mandalorian pointing a blaster your way, you are still too blissed out from this morning to understand exactly what he was doing. Your eyes screwed shut involuntarily as he pulled the trigger. 

When you opened them, you were in the dark. You quickly realized that he had shot the control panel to the bunk door, ensuring your safety if the pirates tried to open it. 

Honestly, he hadn’t even realized what he was doing until he had pulled the trigger. Mando knew that in reality, it probably wasn’t the best course of action, but what's done is done, no sense in overthinking it now. 

The pirates wouldn't be able to reach you and the kid if they discovered that you had been on the ship with him, and that's all that matters to him at the moment. With a quick shake of his head, he turns back to the now-open ramp and raises his blaster.

***

The sounds coming from the other side of the bunk door are muffled, but you can still hear the absurd amount of blaster fire ripping through the air. You stifle a gasp and hold on tight to the kid. 

Everything had happened too quickly for you to process it, one second you were laying in ecstasy on Mando’s chest, and the next you were stuffed into a dark room with only the kid to keep you company. 

You know that you need to remain calm in order to think straight, but there was nothing you could do about the panic building up inside of you. You didn't get to see how many pirates were huddled outside the ship, but judging by the number of shots you can hear now, it must be a lot. 

The kid shifts in your lap and you look down at him. You flinch as you hear a shot ring out close to the bunk and he jumps at your reaction. 

The reality of your situation is really starting to sink in, and you are now focusing on trying not to have a full blown panic attack in front of the kid. You never were the best at keeping your composure in scary situations, but you know you can tough through it for the sake of the little womp rat nestled in your lap. 

“Shh it’s going to be okay honey,” you tell the child as you gulp down your anxiety and squeeze him tighter to your chest. “Your daddy is going to handle it and we’re all going to be okay.”

You wish you could convince yourself of the words that come out of your own mouth. You try to stop the tears that threaten to fall as you move your hands to cover the kids ears. You know you can’t do anything else but wait right now. 

****

Din has two of the pirates down before they even realize what hit them. As he jumps down onto the surface, he scans the remaining pirates scrambling around. He counts six, maybe seven, before he lands.

It will be a challenge, but Mando knows that he is perfectly capable of taking the squad down in a reasonable amount of time. He makes sure to position himself in front of the opening of the Crest so that none of the gang members can slip past him and possibly discover what he has hidden on board. 

He sends a silent prayer to whoever is listening that the door to his bunk stays in place while he has his pack to it. He knows he would not be able to know if you and the child were revealed until the pirates tried to get past him, and by then it would be a struggle to get all of them down before one was able to get to you.

He grits his teeth at the thought but turns his attention to the criminals beginning to surround him. He raises his arm and shoots the one closest to his left, causing the one on his right to lunge at him.

He has that one down just as quickly as he had the one before him. He can see clearly now that there are only four members left, it shouldn’t take too much longer to have this thing over with. 

****

You figure it's only been about five minutes since the door had shut into the black pit of Mando’s quarters. Your heart rate has started to slow a bit and you are able to make out the outline of your hand when you hold it up in front of your face. 

There is a little less commotion from outside than before, but it's still enough for you to worry about the numbers Mando may be facing right now. You think back to earlier when you were curled up on top of him. 

To be honest, you are still confused about the sudden outburst of affection from the Mandalorian. You just hope it wasn’t pity. As much as it would make sense to think of it that way, the ordeal didn’t seem very one-sided. 

The way Mando had held you was warm but possessive, as if he was scared to let you go. The memory sends a shiver through your spine. You wish he was here comforting you now. You close your eyes and imagine being back in his arms with the kid in your lap. 

Why hadn’t he said anything before? You know that he had to have seen your slip-ups, and as much as you hated that idea, you also know that it means he would have known how you felt. 

Before you can come to a conclusion, you are pulled from your thoughts when light suddenly floods into the bunk. Your eyes snap open as you realize what happened and you make immediate eye contact with an unfamiliar face.

****

A sudden surge of panic shoots through Din’s veins as he swivels around trying to count the remaining gang members. He just downed two more of the four that had been left, but there was only one more crook in sight. 

He doesn't have much time to look around because the one still in view is dangerously close now. He let his guard down for too long, letting the thug get the advantage by closing in on Mando from the side. 

He sees the pirate lunging for him in his peripheral vision and fumbles with his blaster, startled by the unexpected movement. As he tries to get into position, the pistol slips from his grasp and falls into the snow with a heavy thud. 

He knows he doesn’t have time to bend down and pick it up before the pirate would be around his neck, so, trying not to panic, he rethinks his strategy. The Mandalorian curses himself internally for his mistake but quickly makes up for it by spinning on his heels to box the gang member in between his body and the side of his ship with his arms on either side of the crook. 

Before the pirate can understand what's happening, Mando brings his head down hard on top of the ugly stranger’s. With a deafening crack, the now unconscious pirate slumps down into the snow next to Mando’s discarded pistol. 

Now that the primary threat is disposed of, Din shakes off the ringing in his head and scoops his weapon up. As soon as he is steady on his feet, he hears a scream coming from inside of the ship. 

****

As you lay eyes on the pirate, neither of you move. 

A million thoughts run through your mind, telling you to run or push the pirate away from you, but your body doesn't seem to listen. You open your mouth to yell for Mando and feel your eyes grow wide in hopeless panic when no sound escapes. Only when you feel the kid struggle in your hold do you feel the vibrations climbing up your throat.

The next few moments happen in a blur. Before you can even blink, you see the flash of beskar coming up behind the pirate, who has now begun to move his arm towards you. Trying to come to your senses, you dodge to the side to miss the intruder's hand as he tries to grab your neck. You tuck the kid underneath your bunched up form and close your eyes, bracing yourself for the blows that are sure to come. 

As you settle fully into your protective stance, you hear a loud crack from outside the bunk. Your body jolts at the sound, but your mind immediately relaxes at the sound. You know what it means. You know the sound a skull makes as it collides with beskar. 

Slowly, you open your eyes and glance outside the bunk. Mando is standing there, unmoving. When you see the unconscious body on the floor in front of him, confirming what you already knew, you loosen your grip on the kid and sit up. 

The Mandalorian can see the tears brimming your eyes as he finally moves towards you, wrapping his strong arms around you and the child in your own. 

As he pulls you to him, you let out a shuddering breath and release the tears from your eyes. You run your hand over the kid's head, calming him down as much as you can. Though he didn't seem too concerned throughout the whole ordeal.

The three of you stay huddled up together for a moment before Mando pulls back. He turns around and nudges the body at his feet to the side, making room for you to step down from the cot.

He holds a hand out for you to take and eases you onto the floor. You give him an appreciative look as you find your balance. As soon as you are on your feet, Mando snatches his hand back as though he had been burned, like he suddenly remembered that you were capable of such a thing. 

Before you can open your mouth to question him, Mando has already bent down and thrown the body over his shoulder. Without another word, he turns around and walks to the open ramp of the ship to dispose of the pirate. 

Your brows furrow. What has him in such a hurry? You wonder quietly to yourself. Did you do something wrong? When he comes back, your feet are still rooted to the spot he left you. You open your mouth to say something but decide against it as he continues to seemingly ignore you. 

The kid has fallen asleep in your arms, which you find are littered with little blood spots, and after Mando makes it clear that he's not going to say anything, you turn on your heel to take him to his pram. 

“I'm going to put the kid down and get in the fresher,” you mumble over your shoulder, breaking the silence. You see him nod out of the corner of your eye and resume your task. You try not to let it bother you, but you feel your stomach drop at his changed demeanor. 

Not thirty minutes ago, he had gathered you into his arms, and now he’s treating you like a total stranger. Tears brim your eyes once again as you realize that maybe you had read too much into it. 

You try to resonate with yourself as you tuck the kid into the blankets in his pram. Maybe he was just shaken by the whole situation. Kriff, you know you should be a lot more concerned than you are. A few weeks ago, you would have been shaking in your boots. 

You’re not sure what changed, but you figure it has something to do with your trust in Mando’s abilities. You know that no harm would ever come to anyone he didn’t want it to, and so far, you have given him no reason to dislike you—you don’t think so at least. 

You try to shake the thoughts from your head as you close the child’s hover pram and make your way back to the main hull. You can hear the Mandalorian continuing to dispose of gruesome evidence before you lay eyes on him. 

He appears to have cleared an area around his messy bunk, and is now wiping the frame around it down with a wet cloth. You stand in the entrance, debating on whether or not to ask him if he wants help, but you decide against it when he looks up at you.

He holds eye contact just long enough for you to start squirming before he turns his helmet back to the task at hand. Your cheeks blush a furious color and you turn before he can get the chance to see your embarrassment. 

His nonchalant treatment hurts. You scold yourself for thinking that way, it's not like anything has changed just because he held you for five seconds. He was vulnerable and probably not thinking last night, it would be unfair of you to assume that anything is supposed to be different now. 

You brush your unshed tears away as you close the door to the fresher. Maybe you’ll feel better after a soothing shower. You turn the knob on the fresher all the way up and begin to strip out of your clothes. Once you’re done, you stick a hand into the stream to feel the temperature, stepping in once you are satisfied with the warmth.

The relief is instant as the water hits your back. You sigh as you feel yourself melt into the stream. You stare at the water swirling down the drain and try to focus your mind on anything but Mando. 

He seems to be controlling every aspect of your life at this point, not just your actions and emotions, but your thoughts as well. Come to think of it, you can't seem to recall the last thing you thought of or did that didn't have something to do with the man. 

You bring your hand up to let it run over your face, ignoring the water dripping off as you reach your chin. You are just now seeming to realize how exhausted you are. You open your eyes wide, trying to fight off the sleep threatening to take over them. 

To be honest, you’re not sure if the sudden change stems from the loss of adrenaline, the fact that you are still trying to wake up in the first place, or because of the constant facade you have managed to put on since joining Mando on the Crest. 

Whatever it is though, you just want to give in and fall asleep where you stand. If you’re asleep, you won’t have to put so much effort into walking on eggshells around Mando, and you won’t have to dwell on things that apparently don’t even matter. 

You decide that sleep sounds like the best plan you can make right now. After you finish washing up, you are going straight to your cot. 

You hear a heavy knock on the door as you reach for the shampoo and you have to try not to slip after the sound makes you jump. You must have been too tired to hear the tell-tale thump of Mando’s boots as he approached the door. 

You huff out a breath, trying to stop the irrational anger that threatens to take over from the scare. As you reach a hand out again, this time to steady yourself against the wall, he knocks again. Impatient bastard. 

“What is it Mando?” you ask in a tone a bit harsher than intended. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks at how childish you probably seem to him right now. Clinging all over him and then getting mad because he isn’t paying you the attention you thought he would. 

You hear him sigh behind the door before answering. “There’s a town not too far from here,” he cuts right to the chase. “I’m going to go and try to find some means of fuel.” His tone is still nonchalant, but you do better with brushing it off this time, your anger making it easier. 

“Okay,” you tell him, doing your best to sound just as uninterested as he did. He says nothing else, but you can hear him shuffling around outside the door almost as if he were hesitating. You roll your eyes, wishing he would go ahead and leave already. 

“Okay, I-...” he trails off mid-sentence with a frustrated sigh.  What else does he want? You begin to scrub shampoo into your hair as you wait for him to finish whatever it is he wants to say. You almost forget he is still standing there by the time he talks again. 

“I’ll be back soon,” he says. You can hear him walking off before you even get the chance to banter back. You give your head a shake and scrunch your face up. What the fuck? 

Whatever. As you step out of the fresher, towel in hand, you decide you’re not going to deal with his bantha-shit right now. If he wants to have an attitude, so let him. 

After you peek your head out the door to make sure Mando already left, you secure the towel around your body and pad over to your “quarters”. Despite the intrusion this morning, it’s still pretty warm in the crest so you pick out a satin sleep tank top and a matching pair of shorts. After pulling them on and checking to make sure the kid is still sound asleep in his pram, you lay down on your blankets. 

You realize relatively quickly that your master plan isn’t going to work. As much as you try to push every thought from your head, you find yourself staring at the ceiling with some taunting memory or thought playing on repeat. 

You huff in annoyance as you lift yourself from your cot, suddenly wide awake. How convenient. You walk around in the hull, looking for something to distract yourself for the time being. When you turn around to make a third circle, your gaze lands on the unfinished cloak you were making for the kid.

You sit back down and immediately get to work with the needle. You are already about halfway done so it shouldn’t take long, but you’ll take the welcomed distraction nonetheless. 

****

You end up finishing the project much quicker than you had anticipated. After hemming the edges–and stabbing yourself with the needle about ten times–you are able to call it done. It's not perfect, but you are proud of the results. You want to have the kid try it on right away so you can make any adjustments necessary but find him still softly snoring in his blankets. Great. 

You roll your eyes. There really is nothing to do on this maker-damned ship right now. It’s just been cleaned, you’ve already showered, and you had a snack while you worked on the child’s cloak. 

You curse yourself for being so awake as you rack your brain, trying to think of something–anything–to do. As per usual, you come up with nothing. Well… almost nothing… 

You sit down on your blankets and shiver as you let your hand wander to your chest. You inhale sharply as the pad of your finger grazes over your stiffening nipple. You know it's not a good idea, but just the idea of getting yourself off in Mando’s ship is enough to feel the arousal taking root deep inside of you. 

You feel your eyes flutter shut as you bring your other hand up to cup your neglected breast. You decide you’ll just be quick, you are way too pent up not to continue at this point. You can feel the frustration embedded deep in every pore of your body. Every muscle tense and every hair standing on end from the pure agitation flowing through your veins. 

You let a hand travel south as you make the realization that you need this. Mando shouldn’t be back for another hour or so, you have plenty of time to do what you need to do before he gets back. It’ll be fine. 

Eyes still shut, you snake a hand down the front of your shorts to swipe a finger over the thin cotton fabric of your panties, feeling the wetness that's collected there. 

“Oh, fuck,” you shudder at the contact you’ve been missing for so long. You bring your hand back up and push your shorts all the way down your legs, discarding them with a light kick when they reach your ankles. 

With that out of the way, you get your hands back to work, bringing them back to their earlier positions. You tweak your nipple as you let your hand roam into your panties, circling a finger around your clit just light enough to be a tease. 

As you begin to apply more pressure, an image of the Mandalorian forces itself into your mind. The memory of him sitting in the pilot’s seat in the cockpit, legs spread wide open, presenting a large bulge in his pants. 

You hiss as you let a finger dip into your wetness before dragging it back up to your clit. You can’t help but imagine that it's really Mando sitting in front of you, rubbing your sensitive bud and bringing you pleasure. You wonder if he would be quiet as usual, or if he would be vocal, finally able to express his thoughts and feelings after being so quiet underneath his helm.

Maybe he would praise you as he worked you through your orgasm, telling you you’re a good girl, letting you know how good you feel as he works a finger into you. You whimper at the thought and start making faster, tighter circles on your clit. 

“F-Fuck, Mando!” you shock yourself as you call out his name, but you find yourself too close to the edge to care right now. You’re almost there, you can feel the coil in your belly getting ready to snap. One more pinch on your nipple or flick of your finger and you’ll be tumbling over. 

Your movements are sloppy as you focus on your end goal, one last touch and-

“Having fun?”

Fuck. Your movements stop abruptly as you hear the familiar modulated voice sounding from above you, but not before you feel yourself tip over the edge. Your entire body shakes and you keep your eyes locked shut out of embarrassment. 

“Ah, f-fuck!” you practically scream as you continue to convulse involuntarily. You absolutely hate how much it fuels the fire to know you’ve been caught by the same man you were fantasizing about just moments ago. 

Even after you come down from your high, you refuse to open your eyes. As flushed as you know your body is right now, you feel an impossible heat flood through you, turning you an even brighter shade of red. As you lay there in shame, you think that you have never been more humiliated in your entire life.

You stay put for what feels like an eternity before you finally find the courage to crack your eyes open. You realize quickly that you can't see much else than the Mandalorian’s intimidating form looming over your quivering form. Nowhere for you to look but at him.

“Well?” his tone is not mocking, but you’re not dumb enough to think that it’s not genuine curiosity that has him repeating himself. Your eyes fill with tears as you attempt to meet his gaze, only to shy away again when you feel the weight of his heavy stare. 

You open your mouth to say something but find that the most you can muster is a small squeak. A tear trickles down your cheek and into your hairline as you watch Mando cock his head to the side, a silent tell that he is not going to give up until he gets an answer. 

The asshole knows what he's doing, he knows that you want this, that you are embarrassed, that you are aroused because of it, and that you are dying for him to touch you already. Even so, he looks into your eyes for permission, which you grant with a slight nod, as he brings a hand up to rest on your bent knee. 

Your eyes flutter shut as he begins to draw slow circles with his thumb over your bare skin, only to jolt back open when he speaks for the again. 

“Nuh-uh, sweet thing,” he starts, bringing his other hand up to grab your chin between two fingers. “I asked you a question.”

You gulp as you feel your eyes widen at his boldness. The grip he has on your chin isn’t too tight, but it’s enough to both intimidate you and have you biting down on your bottom lip to stifle a moan. He sees your internal struggle and chuckles darkly, causing you to shudder as he tilts your face up to meet his helmet. 

“Answer me cyar’ika,” he tells you and you know by the way he gives your chin a light squeeze that this is the last warning you would be getting before he decided to either lunge for you or stop his actions completely.

“I was,” you mumble, barely coherent to him. 

“What was that?” he asks, leaning in so that your nose almost bumps into his helmet. “I didn’t quite hear you.”  He brings himself over you even more so that he can slot his head next to yours as if he were going to whisper something into your ear. 

The weight of his body is surprisingly comforting and it brings you a newfound sense of comfort. You take a deep breath and turn your head so that your lips are brushing against the side of his own, right where his ear would be. 

“I was, Mando,” you say, louder this time. “Until someone had to interrupt me and ruin my fun.”

Mando stills at your accusatory tone and it almost scares you how quickly he jolts back up to a standing position. 

“Well,” he retorts, “Maybe someone should have picked some place other than the floor of my ship to indulge in their pleasurable desires. Your face flushes a bright shade of red at his response, and you find yourself curling up to make yourself a little smaller. 

Once back completely on his feet, Mando straightens out and tilts his helmet up to gaze down at you. “If you wanted some help, sweet thing,” he says, “you could have just asked.”

Your eyes widen once again at the sight of the imposing man pinning you under his gaze. You want to pinch your arm so you can try to convince yourself that this is even real in the first place. Never in your life would you ever have imagined yourself to be in this situation–dreamed of it,  sure–but never actually thought it would come true. 

“Are you still offering?”

His head jerks back down at your words and his hands fly to your body quicker than you can blink. One of them flying to your breast and another landing on your stomach. You are back helmet-to-face once again as he begins to trail the hand on your stomach downward towards the band of your now-soaked panties. 

You close your eyes in anticipation as his fingers drag lightly across your skin, sending a shiver up your spine. His fingers groping your breast tweak your nipple, making you cry out as you feel the cot dip with the weight of his knee coming up to settle between your legs. 

“I suppose I could be persuaded,” he says in a low voice that makes you shudder. “What's in it for me?” You know that he only says the last part for show, but for some reason the sentence sends a fresh wave of arousal through you. 

You think that this must be Mando’s idea of roleplay. It fits perfectly for a bounty hunter; he has something to hold against you, you need help that only he can provide you with, he will grant your wishes if he can find a mutual benefit. 

He pinches your nipple once again when you remain silent–you seem to be at a loss for words more frequently than usual. 

“I-” you start to talk but stop when the embarrassment of what you are about to say catches up. You dart your tongue out to wet your lip before continuing. “I can make you feel good, Mando,” you say, looking right up into his gaze with your best doe-eyes. He curses under his breath when he feels his cock twitch at the sight unfolding beneath him. 

He knows he won't be able to keep up this facade he’s put on to try to gain the upper hand. You are his weakness, and he knows that you know it–subconsciously or not. He bites his tongue and  pretends to think about your offer before giving his feedback. 

“Sounds fair to me.” You can hear the lust thick in his voice, and if that wasn’t enough to make you moan in itself, the finger that suddenly dips farther into your panties to tease your clit certainly did it. Mando has to suppress a groan at the way your body responds to him at the slightest movement. 

Upon hearing your mewls and cries, he feels his canvas pants grow unbearably tighter. In this moment, he would give anything just to be able to lay by your side and hear you make those sweet sounds for however long he pleases. 

He uses the pad of his pointer finger to start rubbing slow, barely there circles over your clit, smirking under his helmet when he feels you buck up into him in search of more pressure. 

“You sure you want this, cyar’ika?” he asks. Even though you are caged beneath him, willingly handing your body over, he still wants to make sure you aren’t going to regret this. Mando often finds that his mind revolves around doubt.  Whether it has to do with a bounty, the kid, or you, he always feels like he is going to do the wrong thing. 

What if you get your release and then decide that all of this was just a mistake? What if you decide you want to leave the Crest, want to leave him? He is well aware that he doesn’t treat you the way you deserve to be most of the time, so why would you want to stay in the first place? 

Mando tells himself that he is distancing himself in order to protect you, but he knows deep inside that he is a selfish man, that he keeps you at arm's length to protect himself. If he has nobody to protect, nobody to care about, he has nothing to lose. He is safe, he is fearless. 

He is brought out of his spiraling thoughts when you speak from beneath him, your sweet voice taking hold of his hand and pulling him out of the deep hole he keeps digging himself into. 

“Mando,” you start, bringing a hand up to rest on the side of his helmet, as if cupping his cheek. He shudders at the gentle touch and you smile warmly, providing a sight that melts his worries away. “I want this,” you stroke your thumb over the place it's resting as he leans into your touch. 

“I want you.” 

That's all it takes for Mando to throw away any doubt and let himself give in to the desires you seem to fill him with. Just for once, he figures, fuck it. He’s not stupid, he knows that eventually he would have to give in to you. Part of the reason he treats you the way he does is because you are so goddam frustrating. 

Your perfectly molded face, your honey sweet voice, the delicate way you handle the child. The way you care for the both of them, giving all that you have to ensure that they are well fed, well rested, and in tip top condition. It scares him half to death how much he really has come to care for you, but how could he not? 

He simply wouldn't be able to bear it if you left. None of his fears matter now though, all that he can think about is finally giving you the treatment, the pleasure, you deserve. Now that he is sure that you feel the same way, it's like a wall has come down, allowing him full access to what’s been hidden behind it for so long. 

He shakes his head as if trying to get rid of any thoughts that reside there as he starts to move again. He picks you up and carries you to his bunk, plopping you down on the sheets and causing you to giggle.  You sit up with your elbows and look at him looming over you between spread legs, moaning as he shoves his hand back into your panties, letting a finger dip down lower to tease into your soaked cunt. 

“Oh, f-fuck, Mando,” you keen under him and he has to try not to melt on the spot. His title has never sounded better. If only he could have the pleasure of hearing his real name fall from your plush lips. His eyes roll to the back of his head just from the thought. 

You look up into his visor as he eases a finger into your pussy, pumping it in and out a few times before adding a second. The delicious stretch has you clenching around his fingers, causing him to release a sharp breath through the modulator. 

You wonder for a second how many sounds his helm keeps from escaping, keeps from reaching your greedy ears. How often does he scoff at your light teasing, or laugh under his breath at your subtle jokes? You brush the thoughts away quicker than they came, you know you can never really know. 

Bringing your focus back to the man above you, you relish in the feeling of his fingers scraping against your walls, of his thumb brushing over your clit. You can feel your orgasm building up faster than you previously thought to be possible.

 Your legs are still shaking from the one you had granted yourself, and you feel a little overstimulated, but you find yourself not caring. When Mando crooks his fingers into that sweet spot deep inside you, you can't help the wave of relief that overcomes you. 

You cry out as he coaxes you through your second orgasm, continuing his ministrations, but at a slower pace. You look like heaven underneath him, hair falling onto the pillow and clinging to your face where sweat sheens. You look ethereal in your orgasmic haze, and the image alone is enough to make Mando’s cock twitch, making him buck involuntarily as his sensitive tip brushes the seam of his pants. 

You whimper as Mando whispers sweet praise into your ear, telling you how good you are for him, how only he can make you feel this good, how lucky he is to touch you in this way. You have never heard him speak this way, and honestly, you have a sneaking suspicion that he is too blissed out to know what he is saying.

As you come down, he removes his hands and starts to back away, unsure of what to do next. Your eyes snap to his retreating form as you sit up, a frown painted on your features at his sudden departure. He stops in his tracks when he sees your confusion. Your expression softens as you realize that he probably doesn’t know where to go from here. 

If you had to guess, you would say that Mando probably doesn’t have much experience with this kind of thing, and you would be right. The most he has done is find pleasure through brothels, maybe a few one night stands where he kept his armor on the whole time, always leaving before the sun rise. 

You suppress the urge to giggle when you notice the ever-growing tent in his pants, instead extending a hand as you settle at the end of his cot, legs hanging off the edge. It only takes him a second to figure out what you are asking for before taking a step forwards and placing a large hand in your own. 

You tug a little and he obeys your request, stepping closer until he stands in between your thighs. He looks down at you but doesn’t say anything and you take that as a sign to keep going. The corners of your lips tug into a smile as you release his hand to trace up his arm, all the way up to his shoulder which you mirror on the other side. 

You use his form to pick yourself up and stand in front of the cot, so close that your nose brushes the cool metal of his breastplate. Tilting your head to look up at him, you bring your hands slowly back down to lay flat on the beskar in front of you. Your turn.

Catching him off guard, you push him back slightly and then turn around while keeping your hands on him, making him switch positions. His breath hitches but he still doesn’t move, clearly wanting to see where this is going. 

You smirk at him and use one hand to push him again until the back of his knees hit the bunk, forcing him to sit down on the end. His face is almost level with yours in this position, and it brings you a newfound sense of confidence. 

You take your hands away from him and turn around, watching his hands try to catch your hips in your peripheral. You step away quickly though, just out of reach as you grab hold of the hem of your shirt to slowly bring it up over your head. Your smile widens at the pained groan that comes from behind you as you let the article fall to the floor by your bare feet, leaving you in just your ruined panties. 

Mando visibly stiffens when you turn back around, bottom lip caught between your teeth and hands brought up to fondle your perfect tits. His cock gets painfully harder at the sight and he has to clutch the blankets beneath him in order to keep his hands off his cock. The intimidating look in your eye gives him enough of a hint not to. 

He never thought that he would like to submit to anybody in any circumstance, but something about the way you stare down at him makes him reconsider. He seems to always be in charge–he always has to be–the thought of having someone else dominate him seems almost refreshing, though he thinks that he might feel differently if it wasn’t you. 

You keep padding over to him until you are close enough to put your hands on his thighs and lower yourself to your knees. A blush threatens to rise to your cheeks as you recall the last time you had been in a position like this, patching up a wound for Mando whilst trying not to jump his bones. 

You close your eyes for a beat as you take a deep, calming breath before focusing your gaze back to his helmet. You can't tell if the tremor you feel in your hands as you bring them up to his crotch is from your previous orgasms, nerves, or excitement.

When he feels your fingers start to work at his zipper, he pulls your hands away. You frown up at him, arching a brow to silently ask why he stopped you. 

“Cyare,” he starts, watching as you pull your hands back a little and cock your head. “You..” he sighs heavily, trying to find the words to say. 

“You don’t have to do that, cyare,” he says, finally. You roll your eyes and push his hands back out of the way, fingers finding his zipper once again.

“I know I don’t have to, Mando,” you say, training your eyes to watch your hands as they work with the clasp of his pants. “But I want to.” You feel him shudder underneath your touch as you unzip him completely and make a loose fist to let your knuckles lightly run across his length. Your eyes widen at how much bigger he looks without the pants in the way, only the thin fabric of his boxers concealing him from your hungry gaze. 

“Besides,” you look back up to him, “I am a woman of my word after all.” 

You don’t give him any time to respond before you are reaching into his boxers and wrapping a hand around him. He jerks up into your fist and you have to stifle a moan at how thick and warm he feels with your fingers wrapped around him. 

Pulling him out completely, you lean forward to taste the pearl of pre-cum that's collected on his tip. He bucks up and groans at the feeling of your tongue grazing his most sensitive part, there’s no way he’s going to last long with your mouth on him. The sounds he makes are absolutely sinful, and you have to bite your lip before moaning yourself. 

“F-fuck, pretty girl,” he says when you lick up the bottom of his shaft, trailing the vein that runs there. He hasn’t felt this good in a long time, and he knows it's going to be hard not to come in your mouth the second you take him. 

You smirk at his words as you lean back and use your hand to smear your saliva further around his cock, giving small jerks each time you meet the base. When he moans again, you take pity on him and wrap your lips around the head of his cock, closing your eyes as you suck gently. 

His hips shift, bringing him further into your mouth, and one of his hands fly up to settle in your hair at the sudden warmth engulfing his dick. You quickly pull off of him, watching a string of spit break and fall onto your chin. You tsk at him when he whines from the loss. 

“Nuh-uh, Mando,” you say in a slightly teasing but firm tone, “Keep your hands to your sides for me.” You can tell you are pushing your luck by ordering him around from the way he stiffens, but he obeys none-the-less, fisting the sheets with white knuckles. Maybe you should call him a good boy next time. You have to try not to laugh at the thought.

Satisfied with his compliance, you get back to work, this time taking more of him into the heat of your mouth. You moan around him as you take him deeper, sending vibrations through his spine. As you relax your throat to take more of him down, you begin to wonder if you will be able to. He's bigger than average, sure, but his girth is what makes you nervous. 

You bob your head up and down, trying to keeping eye contact with Mando. You can tell he is struggling to keep his composure, and it delights you much more than you would have thought. Finally, you are able to nestle your nose in the dark curls at the base of his cock. You sigh around him and you can feel him twitch in your mouth, a sign that he's getting close.

You use your tongue to swirl around the tip of his cock when you bring your head up, and each time, you feel him shiver above you. It really shouldn’t surprise you how sensitive the Mandalorian is considering he’s always glued to his armor, but for some reason, it does. 

He whimpers above you and you know that he's about to spill over the edge. Smirking around him, you bring a hand up to fondle his balls, pushing him to his limit. 

“S-shit!” he growls almost incoherently as he spills into your mouth, shooting ropes of cum down your throat. You are more than happy to swallow all that he gives you, but he carries a big load, and you can feel it start to dribble down your chin. 

As he stills, you pull your mouth away from his softening cock. You grin as you watch his form shake from the intensity of his orgasm, reveling in pride and the fact that you get to be the one to bring the ‘feirce Mandalorian’ so much pleasure. 

He watches you with hooded eyes as you swipe your thumb across your bottom lip to collect the cum that leaked out of your mouth. When you push the digit between your lips, he groans once again. 

“Fuck, cyar’ika,” he says, voice laced with both arousal and exhaustion. “That was..” he trails off as he watches you scoot forward on your knees and tuck him back into his pants. He doesn’t finish, he can tell that you know what he means. 

You stand up and stretch before placing a hand on his shoulder to push him down so that he is laying flat on the cot. He can see the tired look in your eyes and knows what you are asking for. You watch as he scoots back to the end of the cot, making sure to leave room for you. 

You glance at the childs pram across the hull to make sure he is still asleep before you climb in behind Mando, closing the door to the bunk behind you. He opens his arms in invitation and you gladly accept, climbing up to tangle with him, head resting on his chest and leg swung over his torso. 

Nothing is said for a few moments as he brushes his fingers through your hair, lulling you slowly to sleep. Eventually, when you feel yourself begin to doze off, he breaks the silence. 

“Thank you, sweet thing,” he says quietly, “for everything.”

You smile into his chest and he hugs you tighter to him. You don't have to say anything for him to know that you want to tell him the same. One good thing about Mandos’ whole ‘no speaking’ thing–he knows how to read you. 

You just hope he can't read everything. You are trying to ignore your feelings right now, but you feel conflicted. You want to ask him why he seems to get so distant, why he was being so weird earlier today, you want to tell him that if he feels differently about you, to let you go.

But on the other hand, you also want to beg him to hold you forever, to take you with him wherever he goes for the rest of your life, you want to tell him that you belong to him, that you want him to belong to you. 

For now though, you can't seem to do either as you succumb to the tiredness that takes over your body. “Youll have to make up your mind,” you reason with yourself as you drift off. You ignore the voice though, perfectly content to stay in the middle ground, wrapped in Mando’s strong arms as you fade from consciousness.

****

Thank you for reading!!

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Saw some straight-up inexperienced takes on children’s right to consent in the youth liberation tags.

“Children and adults are on the same level and kids can consent! I’m a minor and I can consent! Don’t infantilize me!”

I’m an educator who’s worked with both kids and adults, and I have a near-photographic memory which allows me to remember my early childhood years at a depth most people can’t. I know what I’m talking about, AND I still relate to kids because I remember in exquisite, painful detail what it was like to be one.

It’s not that kids CAN’T consent. Obviously kids can consent or refuse to consent to a lot of things, like saying “yes I want ice cream” or “no I don’t want a hug” or “yes I want the soles of my feet scratched for an hour straight and don’t you dare stop” (I was a weird kid). Any verbal child, with the exception of children who use echolalia to communicate, can give accurate verbal consent (“accurate” in this case meaning that when they say “yes,” it means “yes,” and that they don’t just say “yes” to everything). It stands to reason that they can technically say yes or no to life-altering things such as medical procedures, religions, jobs, or sexual activity… so the issue is not whether or not they are able to consent; the issue is whether or not they have enough lived experience, emotional development, and knowledge to make an informed decision to be responsibly allowed to consent to certain things which are high-risk.

Pedophilia is wrong — not because I think children are always innocent or “dumb blobs” — but because of the inherent developmental power imbalance between a child and an adult. Children are experiencing everything for the first time; adults have already experienced these things many times over and have the responsibility of teaching children what they know without putting them in danger. One does not allow a person who only has a driver’s license to pilot a rocket ship. Why? Because they will crash and kill themselves. Allowing a minor to have sex with an adult is like letting me fly a NASA shuttlecraft with no training.

But if I theoretically were to get trained by NASA for many years, I could perhaps avoid the whole passing out from the G-force routine, and successfully pilot that shuttlecraft. In the same way, children must learn to make small decisions over the course of their lives, until their brain has reached an ample stage of development to safely make decisions about situations which could potentially get them seriously hurt, traumatized, or killed. Abstract thinking, the last stage, takes a long time to fully develop: from the ages of 8 to 25, and even longer in some cases. Obviously bumping the age of consent to age 25 would be excessive because by the time someone is 25, they would have enough lived experience to make an informed decision, whether or not their prefrontal cortex is completely developed or not. This is why in the US, the age of consent ranges from 16–18 years of age; it is close enough to full brain development to keep people safe, and not too far along to maximize freedom of the individual. Laws aren’t perfect and some laws are stupid; but having an age of consent is more than reasonable.

Even though the abstract thinking stage ranges from eight to twenty-five, an eight-year-old and a twenty-five-year-old are NOT on the same level, even if the eight-hear-old is more experienced in one or two areas. Remember, someone who is eight has just begun to develop abstract thinking (or they may not have even started yet); someone who is twenty-five has already been developing abstract thinking for years. Should someone who just started learning chess who cannot beat a computer on easy mode be allowed by a league to compete against someone who’s played in that league for years in a national tournament? No, because that would be demoralizing for the inexperienced player, and unentertaining for the person in the league (unless they’re a bully). There is an inherent power imbalance.

Children need help to navigate complex emotions and situations because everything is new to them, and their brain is not sufficiently developed to handle emotions in a healthy way without guidance and support; this support decreases slightly every year a child is alive if parenting and teaching is consistent in their lives. Children who do not get good adult support often end up traumatized. Children rely on adults; not because of “ageism,” but because it is practical for their physical and emotional health.

This is also the reason why parents often make decisions for children and make them do things they do not want to do. Of course, many children would much rather play than go to the dentist because the dentist is scary and it hurts; but considering that not going to the dentist could result in tooth decay, even if a child does not want to go, a parent should still “force” their child to go to the dentist because the trauma of medical neglect should be avoided at all costs. So a parent should explain to their child that the dentist is there to help them be healthy and happy, to help ease a child’s fear. Most dental and medical procedures ensure that a child will have as much freedom as possible throughout their lives, by preventing them from contracting medical conditions which could potentially inhibit their freedom to do things now, or later in life. Now involuntary intersex surgery for the sake of making a child appear “normal” is another issue entirely, since this deals with a child’s identity. Unless the procedure is done to avoid a life-or-death situation or physical pain, it should not be done at all.

Another thing which absolutely should not be forced on a child is religion. If a child does not fully understand what a Jehovah’s Witness baptism entails, or if they do not know whether or not they will change their mind later due to a lack of experience and foresight, then they should not be presented with the “one-way ticket” option of baptism and effectual “marriage” to a god. This is because a child may not have the experience to recognize the Jehovah’s Witnesses as a predatory organization, especially if their parents have raised them in the cult. If they know that not serving Jehovah — according to their belief system — will get them killed in Armageddon, and that Armageddon could come at any time, including tomorrow, their decision to get baptized, which is a lifelong commitment, will be more motivated by fear than by a genuine desire to serve that god. A parent should not be allowed to punish their child in any way for refusing their religion, and religions should have age restrictions for those rituals which cannot be backed out of without penalty, once performed. This does not mean that children should not be allowed to explore different religions and choose for themselves; it only means that they should be allowed to do so with minimal risk to their mind or body, should they change their mind.

Jobs are something else which a parent should not be allowed to force or encourage a child to get, because play is essential for brain development and specifically for developing creativity. Work is often regarded as the opposite of play due to its exhausting and typically unpleasant nature, so working below a certain age will stunt a child’s growth and make it so they can do less in the long run. Now, if a child has a genuine passion they wish to pursue which most other children do not have, they should, within reason, be allowed to pursue it and potentially make money from it. However, the business side of things should be handled by the parents or another trustworthy adult, until the child is at a stage of development where they capable of handling finances, so that they may focus exclusively on their passion and furthering their education in other areas. However, the money the child earns from their work should not go to the parents; it should go to the child, potentially being placed in a savings account for their future.

In conclusion — I hate to use the “seatbelt or straight jacket analogy” abshsbshsjsjks — children are horribly disenfranchised, yes; but lowering the age of consent is not going to help them become less disenfranchised, compared to many other more feasible and less reckless rules which should be put in place by the law. Adults should be more restricted with what they can do with their children; legal restrictions should not necessarily be removed from what children can do, as many of these laws are reasonable from a scientific perspective.

What these self-proclaimed “xeno-satanists” are proposing can easily be classified as systemic child neglect (Also, side note: xeno-satanism is such a cool-sounding name and I was extremely disappointed to find out they wanted to abolish the age of consent, instead of, like, astral projecting to worship Satan on other planets. Ick. Also, it should be noted that many of these xeno-satanists are minors themselves, at the receiving end of pedophilic relationships and should not be harassed for being abused. Common sense. Don’t add gasoline to the already very hot fire.)

[bullet-prooflove]

Stockton!Series Part Five: Maternal - Nestor Octeva x Reader

Tagging: @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @withakindheartx @anime-weeb-4-life @danzer8705 @drabbles-mc @alwaysachorusgirl @witches-unruly-heart @mysoulisasunflower @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @est1887 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @thanossexual @lexondeck @weiwei0210 @trublu2u @justreblogginfics @oklahomapeach @keyweegirlie @dakotapaigelove

That night you dream of your mother, of the lullaby she used to sing when you were sick. You remember the sound of her voice, her palm brushing over your forehead, the scent of lilacs that always clung to her skin. You only have a handful of memories. You were seven years old when your mother took her own life. It had devastated your father. She had been in pain for a long time, he had explained once you were old enough to understand.

When you wake up, it’s in the guest room in Marcus’s house, Nestor’s body curled around you as he cradles you close. He always sleeps like this, as if he’s terrified that someone will steal you away in the night.

“You were dreaming.” He murmurs, his nose trailing along the curve of your throat, his lips ghosting over your skin. Your hand seeks out his, your fingers entwining as you clasp it to your heart.

“My mom.” You say softly. “I was dreaming of my mom, it’s her birthday today.”

“We’ll visit her, Mi Corazon, before we stop by the house.” Nestor whispers in your ear. “We’ll pick up some flowers, tell her about all the people you’ve helped.”

You twist in his arms to face him, your hands running through his unruly curls. He moans at the sensation, his lips brushing over yours.

“We’re about to be invaded.” You tell him, hearing the pitter-patter of Santi’s feet outside the bedroom door.

Marcus’s adopted son loves Nestor, the two of them had bonded after you’d absconded to Reno and whenever you come over Santi sends the entire time glued to your Nestor’s side. You think it’s the patience he exhibits, Nestor has a soothing presence and takes the time to engage with Santi on his terms.

When the door creaks open, the two of you are already on opposite sides of the bed. Santi’s face peeks around the door, that bashful grin of his lighting up his features.

“Give us a minute chico, we’ll be right out to help with breakfast.” Nestor tells him as he pulls himself up into a sitting position. Santi gives him a thumbs up before closing the door quietly behind him.

You slip out from beneath the sheets and Nestor watches, taking a second to appreciate the sight before him as you pull a pair of leggings underneath the old Navy t-shirt of his that you’re wearing.

“You keep looking at me like that and we’re going to get interrupted again.” You tease him.

He laughs before pulling back the duvet and reaching for his jeans.

“This…” He says, using his palm to gesture to the bedroom door. “This is why I don’t want kids.”

You smile in response to his words. Despite your inability to have children, Nestor has never made it an issue. He doesn’t skirt around the topic, he doesn’t pretend it doesn’t exist, he accepts it and you in entirely.

“Yea.” You as you snatch up your oversized cardigan from the back of the chair. “It’s definitely one of them.”

***

“Marcus didn’t come home last night.” Izzy tells you over breakfast. “He’s taken a trip up to Stockton with Bishop and Taza to discuss club business.”

The three adults in the room know exactly what that means, the two kids however remain completely oblivious. Santi’s in the throes of showing Nestor his collection of Pokemon cards and Tessa’s enthralled in the most recent Angie Thompson novel. Already she’s a budding activist.  

There is no doubt in your mind that Marcus has filled Izzy in on the situation. That man keeps no secrets from his wife, you think it’s the reason their marriage has always been so successful.

“Why don’t you guys show Nestor what you’ve done in the garden?” Izzy says to her children, inclining her head towards the backdoor. “The vegetables they’ve planted are just starting to grow, they’re trying to figure out names for all of them.”

“I think I can help with that.” Nestor says taking the hint, Santi’s hand slots into his as Tessa sets her book down and races off to locate a marker pen and the plastic tabs, they’ve been using to label each veggie. “I’m thinking Diego.”

Izzy waits until the children are gone before she takes up residence in Nestor’s vacated seat. She reaches out, her fingertips brushing the hair away from your features so she can study the bruise that lines your cheek.

“It’s not your worst.” She says, her lips pursing together in a grim smile. “How are you doing?”

You open your mouth to speak but Izzy raises her hand to cut you off before the words leave your mouth.

“Don’t give me the ‘I’m fine’ crap.” She says quietly. “I know you’re not ok.”

You laugh. It’s a hollow sound that seems to bubble up in your chest.

“No I’m not.” You admit, rubbing your hands over one another. “They came into our home Izzy, they tried to murder us in our sleep. They were members of the club, Nestor’s brothers and they…”

You exhale, trying to stem the rage that rushes through you.

“I’m so mad Izzy, it is taking everything in me not to head over to Stockton and burn down their fucking clubhouse.”

There are tears in your eyes, they leak down your cheeks because your home was somewhere you felt safe, it was the place that you and Nestor had built together. Now it’s been violated, ruined because you’ve fought back against the man who put his hands on you.

Izzy takes your hands in hers, clasping them tightly. There’s a reassurance that comes with this woman, there always has been. She may not be related to you genetically but she’s the closet thing you have to a maternal figure you have in your life.

“Trust me when I say that it has been taken care of, that those men will never come after you again.” She tells you resolutely, pressing her forehead against yours. “You and Nestor are a part of our family, and we look after our own Rosa, we won’t let anyone else hurt you. I promise you, you’re safe with us.”

Love Nestor? Get added to his tag list!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[hypocratic]

ARC ONE: tell me the lie i need to feel safe. ♪

MAIN CAST:

DR. FREDERICK CHILTON. /// @hypocratic MS. MARGOT HEMINGWAY. /// @vitalphenomena DR. RIFAT HORDIYENKO. /// @eviji

ARC TAGS: one + two + three

While helping an incarcerated Will Graham recover his memories in an effort to catch the Chesapeake Ripper, Dr. Frederick Chilton attends the occasional chess tournament as an amateur player (~2000 elo). He meets Margot Hemingway—a twenty-three year old college student and chess grandmaster—at one such event. A romantic relationship between the two quickly develops. For varying but legitimate reasons, they both want to keep their relationship private (Dr. Chilton is mostly worried about Margot's safety in regard to the Chesapeake Ripper). However, their relationship is outed to and by the public a month in because astute chess fans notice Margot is constantly playing a user with the handle drchilton on the popular chess.com app.

The chess world is intrigued by their courtship and Dr. Chilton is invited to official, high level tournaments (all GMs or IMs) as a publicity stunt. For the novelty, and knowing he will never receive an invitation through qualified means, he attends one. As expected, he does poorly. But, his interviews while there are wildly charismatic and entertaining and he leaves the event with positive reception in the chess sphere. This spawns tournaments inviting him to come on as a guest commentator. He has yet to accept any offers.

Margot has a brilliant mind. She frequently wins or places high in renowned tournaments. She is also—unbeknownst to Dr. Chilton—a serial killer. For the most part, she kills discriminately and with intent. There is a secret society called The Organization—comprised primarily of old money men and their college student sons—which Margot targets: the college boys are not good people.

Rifat Hordiyenko—an FBI agent Jack Crawford recruits as an under-the-table operative—is tasked with profiling and hunting down the person who murdered Avery: a male college student, a member of The Organization, whom Margot killed. Rifat begins to connect college student deaths together and realizes they often correspond with chess tournament dates and locations. He is slowly discovering the existence of The Organization and honing in on Margot. He gives Margot the moniker the Prep Killer. The FBI has not publicly shared the existence of this new serial killer.

Rifat kills a college student (Kenneth) in an attempt to better understand Margot. He plays in a chess tournament as Kenneth, hoping the Prep Killer might be there. In one match, he is paired with Dr. Chilton. Margot's dark world is bleeding into Dr. Chilton's life. Dr. Chilton remains oblivious to this side of Margot. But for how long?

[jazzmckay]

20 Questions for Fic Writers!

tagged by @broodwoof :> i think ive done this one before but my memory is bad enough that i dont remember my own answers and they might be different because ive posted a lot lately so. here we go

not sure who all has already done this... if you're a writer seeing this and you havent done it yet, do it and tag me 😂

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

116

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,010,049 babeyyy

3) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Truth in Melody (geralt/jaskier) - 1,534 - my contribution to the famous accidental warlord geralt au, with jaskier as a redanian spy in his midst

The World Upside Down (gen) - 1,367 - my first detroit: become human fic, the beginning of a found family saga

Variable Outcome (gen/connor & gavin) - 910 - one of the many, many d:bh Evidence Room Canon Divergence fics out there

left an impression on my heart (scott/stiles) - 869 - one of the teen wolf old guard fics still clinging to relevancy... 😂

Winter Chill and Summer Bloom (connor/gavin) - 732 - one of my dbh magnum opuses, as far as im concerned

4) What fandoms do you write for?

right now, dragon age. in the past? well.

the walking dead should have its own folder but for some reason during that era i wrote exclusively on gdocs idk. the "other" folder contains l4d2, shameless, shadowhunters, sense8, and borderlands.

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

yep, comments mean a lot to me so i always take the time to reply. if i don't, it's probably because the person said something that made me uncomfortable which has unfortunately happened a couple times lol.... just "oversharing with a stranger" kind of things

6) What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i have 2 that are basically the same level of hurt/no comfort

Fair Compensation (rk900/perkins) - failed android revolution, perkins being a scumbag

Scoured (anders/hawke) - inquisitor anders is made tranquil

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

im not really sure how to quantify this. im just gonna say this one thats all very light and happy and sweet all the way through. i give even my darkest whump a happy ending, generally, but this one seems like among the most overall fluffy?

Irresistible Gravity (connor/gavin) - 5+1 fic, they keep running into each other in unexpected places as connor figures himself out post-revolution

8) Do you get hate on fics?

i have gotten unsolicited crit before. just deleted it

9) Do you write smut?

yep and i wish i could write more. unfortunately, i struggle

10) Do you write crossovers?

depends on your definition of crossover. i don't think ive written any "the characters from both verses get smooshed into one" before, but ive written "characters from x verse transported into y verse".

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that im aware of

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

yea! one all the way back on fanfic.net lol.... it was a twilight fic. we dont need to talk about it. but more recently:

Wellspring (cole & vivienne) - based on the banter where cole tells vivienne that if templars come for her, he'll kill them. it was translated into russian!

13) Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

yep, loooong time ago, when i was participating in homestuck shipping events where we got on teams for a ship. shout out to the catchat 🐈

since, ive talked about co-writing a couple times but we never made it anywhere lmao

14) What’s your all-time favorite ship?

this is the worst question in existence how very dare you. i wonder what i said last time. i wonder if it was corvo attano/daud from dishonored. i feel like i probably did say them

15) What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i still want to finish ALL my wips. if i had infinite time and spoons, id still finish everything unless ive changed too much since then, which basically just means stuff that goes all the way back to the teenage years, or if the source has been soured for me too much (hp, overwatch). im not sure which im least likely to finish tho... probably the longfic dbh au stuff

16) What are your writing strengths?

i don't know lol i often get comments on my characterization so probably that! i'd like to think i'm decent at pacing as well, particularly since i've spent a lot of time working on it

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

i struggle the most with fluff, smut and conclusions. i also don't have the spoons for long, complex plots anymore, if im honest, and that really sucks. i get easily overwhelmed when trying to piece it together. hopefully the energy comes back someday

18) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

there are times when its appropriate but i think it's something to be careful with. first of all: avoiding racist tropes. a character using other languages should have meaning or be realistic, imo, not be quirky or fetishizing. just need to make sure there's a real, grounded reason for it, that it makes sense. people who speak multiple languages irl have a lot to say about what its like.

and then you need to be careful about the clarity of the text. if there's too much and the readers don't understand, it's going to be confusing. don't lock important context behind a language barrier. don't risk frustrating a person into giving up on the story because they cant keep up. and no, putting translations in the notes is not always enough, if it means the reader has to constantly stop reading to check the notes, losing their place or the flow of the scene

19) First fandom you wrote for?

gonna be real with yall. if you count hand-written things that never made it into fandom spaces and werent even written with the understanding that it was fanfic......... angry beavers. yah, the cartoon about the beaver brothers. yes

if we're talking actual intentional fandom activity that made it to the internet, that would be harry potter.

20) Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

the previously mentioned winter chill and summer bloom is certainly up there. i think ill also say my dbh vampire au series:

Vampire AU (a.k.a. gay vampire/hunter shenanigans)

i'm also very fond of my two fics named after lyrics from blackbird by the beatles

into the light of the dark black night (gen) - dbh post-bomb ending fic

take these broken wings and learn to fly (kara/north) - whumpy soulmate au femslash lets go

[multif0rmed]

GUIDELINES.

1⃣  OOC =/= IC. This should be a given.

2⃣  Almost no smut is allowed. But I may be persuaded to write it for Xehaqus, a ship from Xehanort's series, Kingdom Hearts, and with another Master, Eraqus. Though my mood is fickle when it comes to such a topic due to personal reasons.

3⃣  Please be at least 18+ when interreacting, even more preferably 21+.

4⃣  Shipping? GIMMIE ALL THE XEHAQUS. I am probably not interested in any other romance, though there could ships potentially with immortal characters? I've done it in the past, so who knows ..?

5⃣  Please have a decent enough grip on grammar. Make an effort to write well. People have written with bad grammar before with me, and it turns me off from the RP. However, this may be ignored especially if you have other good qualities to your writing.

6⃣  Have all knowledge of the games, despite needing to play through Melody of Memory, and Re:Coded.

7⃣  OC friendly for the most part. I may be picky about them.

8⃣  Sometimes I'd downright rather write on Discord, so if you write on Discord and am comfortable with sharing it, HMU! I love writing on there. :)

9⃣  Given the nature of this character, dark themes WILL be present on this blog, so let this serve as a warning before you click to follow. This IS Xehanort, people, lol. I will try to tag but I'm not the best at tagging... If Xehanort's actions bother you, please take care of yourself. <3

1⃣   0⃣ If I do not follow you, I'm probably not interested in RP'ing with you. It could be for several reasons -- but the biggest annoyance I have is too short replies. (like one-liners.) I may allow it for some of my mutuals, but I am very picky about such a thing, because I want to dive deeply into this character.

1⃣   1⃣  If I can't find a PINNED, or some sort of information about your blog, it may lessen my chances of following you back.

1⃣   2⃣ If you feel like our rp thread had been lost after a week, feel free to bump me, remind me in IMs. I may have lost it, but I feel like I've done a good job with saving replies to drafts as soon as I see them, thus far.  

1⃣   3⃣  Please cut your threads. Use Xkit rerwritten, or whatever. This has always been a bit of a pet peeve, one I let slide, but it still can annoy me. With being said, if one of our threads is getting too long, I'd gladly trim it for us.

1⃣   4⃣  Godmodding. For the love of everything, please don't do it. One of my regulars do it, but I feel close enough to them that I can let it slide because we often work with their interpretation of things. So, if you feel Xehanort may do something specific, please, just let know.

1⃣   5⃣  No Drama. Luckily, I haven't run into that much, if at all, on Tumblr. The only place I've truly seen it was Twitter and that was overwhelming, but I digress. This is my safe space , so please, if we have an issue about each other, let's settle it in IMs or whatever. Or, alternatively, just unfollow me. If I see a Callout, I'll probably ignore it, and not reblog it whatsoever. I'm too old for that kind of shit. I'm here to relax, and to have fun with writing Xehanort.

1⃣   6⃣  Absolutely no politics. I find it exhausting. Luckily, I haven't run into it too much on here, so I'd like to keep it that way.

1⃣   7⃣  Updated as necessary.

[binalakai-archive]

in general actually now that i think about it. fandom as a whole is 95% the reason why i dont post my art online anymore/am very delayed when i end up doing it even if i do draw fanart. thats bc like. Dealing with reposters (esp back in my fionna n cake era i got rlly pissed off seeing my stuff reposted on TIKTOK of all places) on other social media or seeing shitty fucking discourse that ends up literal doxxing of mutuals ive lost contact with its like OR at its best its like... a dead tag with the last post being three months ago (usually with mos tof the stuff im into its this one)

i think my final straw honestly was watching how the "welcome home" fandom was handled. seeing how Parasocial people got with OC creators to the point of disrespecting someone's boundaries of "dont send me porn of my own ocs" or people straight up taking fictionkin to justify delusional harrassment over a story that isnt even OUT/FINISHED yet??? kinda hit too close to home to me with the deranged shit i had to deal with as a teenager haha. ahhaah.

but like literally. community online has lost its appeal. its just a bunch of hungry scavenger types n its like. unless the urge to get something out There to someone to listen to aches so bad that i have to reach out to hear likeminded people i like sticking to old school forums and private servers!!! at least if shitty beef happens its Contained n doesnt end up become like a Youtube Deep Dive or smth .

its tiring. im tired. im having late night thoughts onto what made me lose the motivation to keep in touch with an online space that used to mean the world to me but honestly ive found happiness elsewhere. n the only reason why im keeping tumblr atm is bc the thought of deleting it on a sour note/on the simple Urge to just give it the fuck up saddens me too much. i made too many happy memories here/it did genuinely HELP me at a time when i literally had nothing but ive feel like ive outgrown a lot of (modern) social media n im just trying to fit myself in the skin of something that feels suffocating to me.

[sydneyscarm]

“about the blogger” meme

thank you to @bioloyg for tagging me :)

y’all don’t really know me so this’ll b fun

star signs: aquarius sun, gemini moon, capricorn rising,,, two air signs in my big three might scare u but trust my chart is earth dominant!!!! i promise!!!!

fav holiday: i love christmas! im not particularly religious, and i don’t consider myself christian or catholic like when i was a child, but i love the lights and the music and the gift-giving and general holiday cheer

last meal: lol i think i had a joint for dinner last night honestly. just forgot to eat and went straight to bed after smoking. i’m about to eat filipino spaghetti for breakfast though

current fav musician: faye webster (specifically jonny rn) and beyonce (all of renaissance has been on repeat since its release) and victoria monet (all of jaguar II is insane, grammy sweep i just know it)

last music listened to: probably ctrl (deluxe) by sza on my way home from work last night

last movie watched: taken, that action movie with liam neeson lmfao. but if we’re talkin movie theater viewing, it was the ballad of songbirds and snakes

last tv watched: i’ve been rewatching s2 of bridgerton. kate & anthony the couple that you are.

last book/fic finished: the last book was catching fire (i was rereading thg like the rest of the world) and the last fic i read was an unfinished sydcarmy fic i found literally an hour ago called all things go (all things go) everyone should read it, very good.

last book/fic abandoned: last book i abandoned was speak, okinawa. it’s a memoir about an asian girl’s struggling relationship with her mother and her culture. very good (and relatable) but extremely heavy so i took a pause on it.

currently reading: thg resurgence so i’m reading the ballad of songbirds and snakes, i didn’t get to finish it before watching the movie and i keep getting caught up so it’s taking forever to finish, but im almost done w it

last thing researched for art/writing: i haven’t full-fledged written for fandom in probably years. but i used to research a lot of fighting techniques cause i was deep in the my hero academia brain rot LMFAO

fav online fandom memory: i mostly inhabited twitter fandom spaces so in 2020 i was placed in a ship gc and i met one of my best friends on there <3 so i think that would be it

fav old fandom you wish would have a resurgence: the show is quite shit and not good at all but, for nostalgia reasons, i would love to see fairy tail (anime) have a resurgence. i bet the fics would be soooo top tier compared to when i was like 9 and reading fics on wattpad and ffnet

fav thing you enjoy that never had an active or big “fandom” but you wish it did: this is more to do w me being interested in things once hype dies down and less to do with a fandom actually being active or big, but i absolutely devoured s2 of bridgerton when i first saw it. and i read every single fic in that kathony tag.

tempting project you’re trying to reign in/don’t have time for: i don’t really write anymore and have stuck to silly posts and headcanon threads but i’ve had a pride and prejudice sydcarmy au stuck in my head for a couple days

this was fun now u know some of my life!!! im pretty sure @bioloyg tagged everyone that i come across in this fandom so ive got no one WHOMP but feel free to do this if u see it 😛