#f*** ships just rooting for my girl from now on

[rheingoldweg12a]

Silently chanting: “Gerri will be ok. Gerri will be ok. Gerri will be ok.”

[norrisainz33]

Best in Show || CS55 & CL16

☆ summary: charles’ sister is headed to the olympics and she’s ready to bring things to the next level with her fwb carlos

☆ pairing: carlos sainz & olympic!leclerc!reader

☆ f/c & warnings: none; slightly suggestive & terribly translated french

☆ requested: yes!! thanks for your request 🤍

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

scuderiaferrari has posted a video

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user3: i don’t understand how all of the leclerc’s are so perfect and talented

user1: the leclerc brothers are so 🤤

user2: princess of monaco about to eat up the competition at the olympics

user8: wait that’s insane only 6 athletes? the uk sent 327… y/n must be really good

user2: she is!! she’s been to the show jumping world cup AND she won the jumping international in monte carlo (both huge accomplishments especially at her age)

user4: their genes are strong and full of sporting talent huh

user24: they should’ve gotten carlos in on this interview. he loves talking about y/n

user18: no fr he very clearly has a crush on her

ynleclerc has made a post

liked by charlesleclerc, scuderiaferrari, visitmonaco, carlossainz55, oscarpiastri, and 879,001 others

ynleclerc: did someone say ,, olympics? get ready to watch your favorite duo (me and [horse’s name]) take on paris 😉

view all 876 comments

user6: HI Y/N (louder than everyone else)

user7: she’s so unserious i love her

charlesleclerc: and why did you have to post the last photo

ynleclerc: because i love it frère [brother]

arthurleclerc: why didn’t i make the olympics announcement post

ynleclerc: bc you refused to put on the glasses bebe

user11: the royal family of monaco is so beautiful

juliaanalvarez: looking forward to seeing you in paris

ynleclerc: you better cheer me on julián

user88: ik carlos is shaking in his boots. he’s got competition it seems

user99: no y/n anyone but a soccer player

carlossainz55: congratulations on making it to the olympics y/n 😍

ynleclerc: thanks carly 🤭

user22: CARLY DNSKSJF

user18: i ship y/n and carlos so hard

use r23: day 124 of wondering why they aren’t together

ynleclerc has made a post

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, charlesleclerc, yourbff, landonorris, francisca.cgomes, and 534,230 others

ynleclerc: don’t worry everyone - the party has arrived in paris and we already made it through the first round 🇲🇨

view all 546 comments

user12: oh thank goodness (i wasn’t worried)! congratulations on an incredible first round

user13: what do i have to do to be that horse

landonorris: when are you gonna let me take a ride on ya?

charlesleclerc: mate that’s my sister

landonorris: i was talking abt the horse

ynleclerc: i hate you landonorris

landonorris: no you don’t ma cherry

ynleclerc: CHÉRIE

landonorris: 😘😘

user29: lando is so real for this

user24: impatiently waiting for carlos to get here

alexandrasaintmleux: the prettiest girl in all of paris. i am so proud of you 🤍

ynleclerc: please get your beautiful self here quicker 😫

carlossainz55: paris is looking real good these days 😍

ynleclerc: you should come find out just how good it looks 😏

user23: whoa get a room

arthurleclerc: please stop flirting

texts between you and carlos

ynleclerc has added to their story

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user77: my god you’re gorgeous

user99: now who … sent you those flowers ms y/n? was it charles? was it julian? was it carlos? i won’t spill the beans if u tell me i promise

user34: i’m rooting for you y/n!! you and [horses name] are going to crush it

landonorris: i know i didn’t send you flowers… so who did?

ynleclerc: wait… you didn’t send these?

landonorris: y/n/n don’t play with me. was it him?

ynleclerc: yes 🤭

landonorris: I KNEW IT. so you guys together or?

landonorris: DONT LEAVE ME ON READ TF

charlesleclerc: y/n/n - i only sent you the white ones… who are the others from?

ynleclerc: my adoring fans!

charlesleclerc: arrête! [stop it] we both know that is not the case

charlesleclerc: just tell me who they are from. i’ll be cool about it

ynleclerc: no you won’t charlie 🤍

arthurleclerc: charles sent me - tell me who those are from

ynleclerc: no! hope that helps bebe 😘

arthurleclerc: are they from a certain spanish driver or an argentinian footballer?

alexandrasaintmleux: your brothers are insufferable sometimes…. but don’t worry i didn’t tell them who sent those gorgeous flowers 😍🤭

ynleclerc: my girl 😘

user87: wagering a bet that those flowers are from carlos

ynleclerc has made a post

liked by carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari, landonorris, danielricciardo, yourbff, and 876,456 others

ynleclerc: obviously not the result i was hoping for. we tapped the last bar on the last jump as we were about to set the fastest time. i’m gutted but at the same time i am immensely proud of everything [horse’s name] and i have accomplished. we are bringing home monaco’s only medal from the entire olympic games and for that i am elated. i think i prefer silver anyway 🥈🤍

view all 789 comments

user67: being the reason monaco is getting a medal is still an insane serve

user87: my favorite horse girl

landonorris: a medal is a medal - proud of you punk

ynleclerc: thank you bobby

juliaanalvarez: congratulations on a hard won medal!

ynleclerc: merci julian! glad we got to catch up 🤍

user57: back!! back i said 🤺

carlossainz55: y/n/n you gave it everything you had out there and you have so much to be proud of. i am in awe of you

ynleclerc: carlos 🥹

user55: this is so sweet i’m gonna throw up

user23: day 145 of wondering why they aren’t together

arthurleclerc: good job or whatever sis

ynleclerc: thanks loser

carmenmundt: you are an absolute inspiration! congratulations on following your dreams and making them come true 🤍

ynleclerc: i love you so much carmen

charlesleclerc has made a post

liked by ynleclerc, carlossainz55, pierregasly, scuderiaferrari, visitmonaco, landonorris and 987,654 others

charlesleclerc: we made it to paris in time to see y/n in the final event. ma petite sœur je suis si fière de toi. je suis pour toujours et à jamais ton plus grand soutien. [my little sister, i am so proud of you. i am forever and always your biggest supporter]

view all 999 comments

scuderiaferrari: congrats y/n on a hard fought silver! we are so proud of you

user16: wake up ! hottest photo dump of the summer just dropped 😭😫😍

user37: wow arthur is eating charles up in the 4th slide

ynleclerc: merci charlie. je t'aime jusqu'à la lune et retour. merci d'être là [thank you charlie. I love you to the moon and back. thank you for being there]

charlesleclerc: je t'aime y/n/n. i wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else.

ynleclerc: btw who even invited pierre?

pierregasly: why can’t i turn up and support my favorite leclerc?

ynleclerc: i’m your favorite?

pierregasly: no , not even close

francisca.cgomes: i’m sorry y/n! he simply insisted upon tagging along 🙄

ynleclerc: i’ll let it slide because i got to see you my love 😍

user34: so special that they were all able to make it to paris

alexandrasaintmleux: my favorite girl in the whole world is an olympic medalist! monaco and all of us are so proud 🤍

ynleclerc: don’t make me cry 🥹

user76: monegasque royal family is my roman empire

ynlecerc has posted to their story

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user55: I KNOW THATS MY MAN CARLOS

user87: you ain’t slick id recognize that hand and arm anywhere. that is mr carlos sainz jr

francisca.cgomes: your brother resorted to calling me to see if i knew who was in this post 🙄

ynleclerc: of course he did…. he’ll find out soon enough 🤭

charlesleclerc: anything you want to tell me? looks a lot like a teammate of mine

ynleclerc: nothing i want to tell you charlie :)

carlossainz55: had a wonderful evening with you mi amor. let’s do it again.. and again and again and again.

ynleclerc: i had an amazing time. i’m already looking forward to our next date!! you may as well just come back to my flat now idk why you even left in the first place

carlossainz55: didn’t want to come across too clingy

ynleclerc: good thing i like clingy! get back here 😏

carlossainz55: yes ma’am

user27: begging to know how much charles and arthur are stressing over this story

ynleclerc has made a post

liked by scuderiaferrari, yourbff, carlossainz55, carmenmundt, landonorris, visitmonaco, and 789,465 others

ynleclerc: yes, you all guessed it! he’s mine 😘

view all 899 comments

user13: someone check on the user who has been counting the days since they started flirting

user23: i’ve been summoned!! all i can say is thank god

landonorris: it’s about time

arthurleclerc: i called it

user99: old money carlos is perfect for our equestrian goddess

charlesleclerc: so this is how i find out?

ynleclerc: you did say you were one of my fans so… yes?

charlesleclerc: you are on my last nerve

carmenmundt: adorable 😍

carlossainz55: my gorgeous girl 😘

ynleclerc: my man my man my man

francisca.cgomes: time for a double date 🤍

pierregasly: charles says i’m not allowed

ynleclerc: who said you were invited pierre?

user47: vibes in the ferrari garage in zandvoort are gonna be wild

user98: carlosy/n truthers our time has come

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: another installment of olympic reader wahooo! slowly but surely making my way through my requests. liked and reblogs are always appreciated

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[pokeblader3]

Honestly I want any anti-Huntlow person at this point who says the couple has no appeal or thematic value and is just a generic hetero ship with the attractive male love interest to look my disabled ass squarely in the eye (looking down, with your ability to stand.) and tell me that people who look like Hunter are considered "conventionally attractive", and that I've not gone to disability and autism support groups filled with people with face/body scarring and disfigurings that severe (often tied to disabilities),

and conditions that will never get better that had literally no friends outside the support groups because y'all treated them like freaks for having a misformed lip or not having full upright-ness of their body (I have a feeling Hunter's eye bags might never go away, like I feel the 24-hour eye bags I have had in real life for several years might never go away),

and that the choice to portray a love story between a disfigured, fundamentally different person in love with a healthy plus sized Asian girl who was bullied and given severe mental issues and now finds strength in his reassurance and literal help as one of the people who helps stabilize her so she can be a badass.... is conventional and what cishet white audiences want lmao.

We have 3 bisexual female characters, the two leads are given female and nonbinary love interests with more screentime, and the m/f bisexual couple is late-series and with a gender dynamic of a strong woman who fights to protect her friends and domestic-violence survivor partner, who now is being characterized primarily by his desire to be soft and domestic (sewing? gardening? wanting to just be seen as a human?) isn't still groundbreaking? There literally is no way it could be more fair and appealing of a concept to you.

Like. I'm starting to think maybe some of y'all have bad reasons for being vocally against the ship which is full of people who just want to be positive and left to themselves (and have much of the crew on their side as fans). Maybe if a ship like this is being put in your gay show, it's just as groundbreaking for different reasons you don't see.

Some of us cripples (including us queers) have partners who Hunter and Willow remind us of (especially with the amount of transgender grimwalker Hunter interpretations I've seen or fan concepts where Willow eventually starts using her plant magic to help stabilize Hunter's body in older age from Grimwalker decay as a partial root being), mostly people just like you, just more open-minded and willing to see us (and literally hear us, if you've seen none of this, somehow, yet) as people.

And I don't just speak for myself, I have a plus sized South Asian bisexual girl friend who says Hunter and Willow's gender dynamic was one of the few times she ever saw herself in television and loves it equally as me.

[leohtttbriar]

1, 8, 10, if you want to!! :)<3

<333 yeah i've been called "opinionated" too many times in my life to not want to lol

all of these got soooo long, but i answered them on my lunch break and didn't have the energy for any proper editing so like. just remember you asked. this is on YOU. and i can only hope for a similar level of expostulation in your answers!

the character everyone gets wrong

so i don't think everyone gets her wrong but a lot of people do.

eowyn is in fact precisely concerned about the role of women. she says so. i've seen this popular reading that eowyn is not feminist-girl badass--she's really there to learn a wwi-eque moral lesson about how reknown is not going to cure your depression and so on. and i think that's fairly reductive.

eowyn is aware of her vulnerability. she is losing her protectors one by one. and "reknown" is not, like, the narcissism the other reading is implying. it's an achievement allowed only for those within the male-sphere. it's an implication of power and a sense of responsibility, to answer the vulnerability. like tolkien isn't going to write a character who wants to be sung about and disparage either being sung about the desire to be sung about. the rohan characters he wrote are very inspired by anglo-saxon culture and poetry and eowyn being like "i'm going to hang up my shield now" can mean A LOT of things, including Tolkien just being sexist. what i don't think it means is a condemnation of eowyn's previous desires to begin with. she wants to hang up her shield only after she's secured her place in history. like, as someone who wants to be a keeper of a hall and protect her people, that's an ideal heroic ending for her. idk, that last bit is probably super generous to tolkien but i still think that eowyn is absolutely a character meant to express feminist values.

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

okay i think it's a relatively common opinion that the reason f/f ships and even just female or female-coded characters are less popular than m/m ships and male or male-coded characters is due to big Misogyny. digressed.

but i also think that fandom is bad at understanding male characters, mostly because they are very busy applying an overly-good faith to all of them to the point of fantasy. my unpopular opinion is that this attitude is like when moms love their son or sons the best. my unpopular opinion is that the word "babygirl" applied to any male character is not in fact the transgressive epithet that everyone thinks it is. i opine that actually terms like "babygirl" and "malewife" are ways to emasculate male characters in a specific way that separates us from the very real realness of the kind of masculinity that suffocates shes and theys outside of fandom; while still celebrating how very Male they are. calling a man "babygirl" is not real condescension. it's pure affection. which isn't necessarily wrong. only that affection for men frequently joins hands with empathy, understanding, and impassioned defense. i just can't really get behind the sweetening of male characters--whether that's making them perfect angels in fics and stuff or calling them "my poor little meow meow" as if the media in which they're being portrayed isn't trying it's hardest to get you to feel like that to begin with.

i probably wouldn't care about these definitely funny turns of phrases for dudes of fandom, but there isn't an equivalent term for female characters. and that really annoys me :/

there are also like a few people who use the term "babygirl" in a genuinely transgressive way: like in media where gay-coded villains do something evil and we're not supposed to root for them in any way, for example. i've just seen too many gifs with the words "babygirl" or "malewife" edited over male characters faces who do not deserve that fondness, imo.

10. worst part of fanon

other than the blatant misogyny expressed throughout all fanons in just a variety of ways that only an academic could enumerate...

generally speaking, hate when fanon makes characters like books/music or political opinions that are obviously just an effort to project likeability. like when i said johnny lawrence in cobra kai probably voted republican at least once in his fictional life and quite a few someones were like "that man has never voted." like i get what you're trying to do there. but it's also very very boring to only read about characters who have the exact right opinion about culture and politics.

i think it comes down to the fact that fandom is very fun place to hang out but it also be very absorbing and so people sort of forget about distance. and the distance between "queer-reading" and simply saying this-is-obviously-gay is probably the distance that gets trampled over most. like, it turns into people using things like "toxic masculinity" to prove how interesting their babygirl character is, bc look how repressed, look how sad, look how he needs queer liberation. the power of a queer-reading is its interpretive possibilities, not its potential canonization. along those lines, i think people should call "toxic masculinity" just plan old misogyny. if your masculinity is toxic, ya probably hate womenfolk.

likeability is like the core value of all fanon i have seen and it is boring

[wolffyluna]

I said I was going to yell about GAP Yuri a few days ago... and then I didn't.

Anyway, I love GAP Yuri. It's a thing of specific beauty.

So, GAP is a girl's love Thai drama that recently finished airing. Mon is a new graduate, who has just scored a job at the company of her favourite idol, Lady Sam, who she's taken as a role model ever since they met in school. Except... Lady Sam does not resemble her public persona or how she acted in school. She resembles Miranda Priestly from "The Devil Wears Prada," if Priestly was way more insecure and somehow a *worse* manager.

And of course this becomes a romance.

It's a melodramatic show. No two episodes have the same tone. It runs less on logic and more on ~*emotions*~.

And I love it so much.

Sam/Mon is just. A ship of all time. It's hard to go into details without spoilers, and some of this is my own idiosyncratic personal feelings-- but with the canon f/f ships I've seen, there's often very few in the middle ground between "sweet and fluffy and all their problems are external" and "I am humming 'No Children' right now." And Sam/Mon is in that middle ground. A lot of their conflicts are based around their flaws (eg Sam being a bundle of maladaptive coping mechanisms, Mon's self esteem) but you do end up spending most of the time rooting for them to get together because they improve each other/each other's lives.

It's a fun show!

(@lizardywizard because iirc you mentioned being interested in this)

[gilbertandanne]

Agreed about how dancing is their best form of communication...very on brand for them.

Ok, my positive thoughts right now seem endless, (PENELOISE, PORTIA, COLIN, YELLOW, THE WEDDING DANCE, THAT SCENE ON THE STREET IN EPISODE SEVEN THAT ABSOLUTELY SHOULD HAVE BEEN LONGER, etc) so I've placed a few initial watch criticisms under the cut...subject to change upon rewatch.

I have three four critiques (the last one is just a 'aww shucks' thing) with the first viewing of pt 2. Like I said, the positives far outweigh the negatives--so much so that I genuinely don't know where to begin with things I loved:

Anthony and Kate and how they handled their absence in pt 2. Ep 5 was SO GOOD and I was SO HAPPY that they were back....but 20 minutes into episode 6, I was like "wait...where are they? Seems like they should be part of what's going on". And while I know scheduling is a lot to work around and blah, blah, blah, making their reappearance such a big thing in ep 7 with the Colin talk was jarring for me (though obvi I loved their convo). And then Anthony suggesting that his 5-6(ish?) month pregnant wife go on a FOUR MONTH boat trip to India was soooooo left field given the TRAUMA he had with his mom during Hyacinth's birth (which we saw in S2). Like....you really wanna risk being at sea while Kate goes into labor? And...it takes MONTHS to get there? There are other ways they could've handled their sporadic appearances in S3, but the way it was handled in pt 2 was very distracting to me. Could be because I adore them so much, but it was....disjointed, at best.

Benedict. Wasn't a fan of his storyline in part 1, but was intrigued by where it was headed in part 2 because he finally acted on something WE ALL suspected/figured in season 1. My issue with Benedict's overall storyline in S3, aside from it being the least compelling/underdeveloped, is the very sudden end of it? He def seemed more into it than Lady Arnold did, so for him to just be like "nah....I don't want anything serious" seemed....weird. I know it's all building up for next season, but it ended SO FAST compared to the how much time we spent on that plot line this season.

Francesca. I'm still trying to sort out my feelings on this one, and it's a criticism that's developing as I've started to think through my initial rewatch. I'm not opposed at ALL to Michaela because the chemistry in two seconds was chemistrying, but like...we just spent SEVERAL episodes rooting for her and John, so the gobsmacked reaction of Francesca upon seeing Michaela MINUTES (well, same episode at least) after marrying John felt disrespectful to the J/F ship. To me, it would have worked so much better if it had been more chill on her part and Michaela had showed a little more attraction. Obvi, I know you can absolutely have more than one great love, but girl....you JUST got married.

The resolution of Lady Whistledown. I was hoping she would, ultimately, be able to remain anonymous because I've enjoyed LW as a narrator/character/plot line throughout the series thus far. I was hoping that Colin would accept that LW is part of his wife and vice versa and she could have them both. If the queen had to be in on it (as I suspected she would have to be), I was hoping she would be thrilled at the prospect of being in on the secret and an alliance would form between them as she loves the intrigue. Having said that, I did like how they went about her reveal and I DO understand the need for it since Pen married into the Bridgerton family. I love that Portia got brought in before the reveal (GOD, I LOVE PORTIA IN PART TWO and the development of her relationship with Pen). As far as the next season, I just wonder how the show will be framed. It'll definitely be a new chapter for the series, but I am sad to see the previous one end.

KATIE!!!!!!!!!! I’M GOING TO TRY NOT TO BE SPOILERY ABOUT MY FEELINGS. ALL I CAN SAY IS I AM FREAKING OUT AND NEED TO TALK TO YOU AS SOON AS YOU HAVE FINISHED WATCHING. PLEASE!

I JUST FINISHED IT AND IDK WHERE TO START?!

Like seriously…how do we begin to unpack everything that happened because <most> of it was perfect?

[pedros-mustache]

nighthawks (14)

series masterlist || previous chapter

word count: ~4.7k+

warnings: smut (18+ only): f!receiving oral, unprotected piv sex (wrap iT UP FOOLS), creampie. also: hurt/comfort, ptsd response, discussions of abuse/torture, language, x fem!reader

a/n: ah, i missed them. i missed this. 💛  

beta: @pleasedin​

DAY ONE-HUNDRED-TWO—LOCATION: ABOARD THE SUNDER

On Inora, there is a flower: the drooping bittercress. The drooping bittercress blooms in the middle of winter, taking the season’s cold wind and freezing rain and unfolding into a brilliant yellow-and-purple blossom despite it. It is a resilient flower, stalk firm and roots thick. Each year, the buds open beneath a pale, frigid sun; and the field outside your childhood home becomes a carpet of color. Once a season, on the night of the first crescent moon, Inorans gather bundles of the bittercress to place in their windows as a prayer of blessing over the coming planting season. 

Fall over my fields with your splendor. Purge the weakness from my soil.

You have become a drooping bittercress. You have purged the weakness from your own soil and bloomed beneath a pale and a frigid sun. You are resilient—hearty—alive. 

Jeelia, you think, would be proud.

/

You are somewhere between consciousness and oblivion when Mando carries you aboard the Sunder. The world is watery. Parceled sentences bombard your ears, but nothing breaks through the stone wall. You are present and yet you are not. There is safety in the in-between, and you aren’t sure you want to leave it. Try as you might, you cannot open your eyes. The last ten days carve through your body like a scythe. You are boneless and numb and weak. 

Mando says something to someone, and the ship whirrs to life. It vibrates in your bones like a song of reunion. Away—take me away.

There is a whoosh and then the click of a lock. The Mandalorian untangles your arms from around his neck and settles you on the lid of the vacc tube. He pulls the straps of your gown over your shoulders, one and then the other. 

He pushes a swath of hair away from your face. “Come on. Work with me, girl.”

You groan as your head droops to the side. You have nothing left to give.

Mando rids you of your gown and dirty underclothes, pulling you to standing by a firm tug on your biceps. He turns off the light, and the room descends into darkness. Armor falls to the floor— thud, clank. Metal on metal: the sound of him, of all people, forsaking his ways for you . It’s laughable. You aren’t worth it.

Still, despite your reticence to accept his sacrifice, you lean forward. Your forehead hits warm, tender flesh, and a rush of blood surges from your head to your heart. His skin—how long has it been since you felt his skin? Without asking, you slide your arms around his waist and press yourself close. He pauses, rests his hand on your shoulder blade. Something prickly—a beard?—pulls against your temple when he leans his cheek on your head. The helmet—he’s taken it off.

“I’m here,” he whispers, and you know it is truth in its purest form. 

A white light glows beneath the fresher sink, illuminating the clothes strewn across the floor. An emergency light. Steady, constant, reliable even in times of crisis—just like Mando.

Undressed, he ushers you into the shower stall where hot steam obscures any features highlighted by the room’s dim light. Though you know he stands behind you uncovered from head to foot, you don’t bother to look. You’re too tired, too weak. The ghostly silhouette of his fingers reaching around to fiddle with the temperature controls is enough for now.

He soaps his hand with a bar of lye. The lather smells fresh and floral, like jasmine and soft petals. You once had a similar bar; it broke months ago. You aren’t sure what became of it. 

“Can I?” He mumbles the words against your skin. 

You nod—of course, yes, touch me, wipe away what came before . The plea lifts in your throat, but your mouth remains shut. You nod again in earnest.

Mando glides his hand over your collarbones, down the sturdy plane between your breasts. He swirls his palm at either hip. His eyelashes brush against your neck as he watches the sudsy water fall between your legs. Soft, soothing. With his touch, he buoys you above the emotion rising in your chest.

Maker, you’d thought you would die. You’d thought Devaneer would kill you.

In some ways, you’d prepared yourself for death. You’d sat in your own filth, cheek bleeding, arm bruised. You’d lied and weaseled your way out of interrogation. You’d accepted Breeth’s torture as it came. Because for him—for Mando and Grogu—for them both—death would have been worth it. Death would have cleansed you. Maybe made things right again. The ultimate sacrifice, the ultimate atonement: for that stubborn Tin Can and his foundling, and for the family you destroyed all those years ago.

The tears begin, and they do not stop. Rivulets of selfish relief pour down your cheeks. Your chest heaves, and shuddering breaths push against tired lungs. To keep from falling, you brace one arm against the shower wall. The slick tiles and feel of Mando’s thumbs massaging your back keeps you grounded, keeps you from swirling down the drain with your emotions, but it isn’t enough. The horror of realization—of witnessing through your own memory what really happened to you in the last ten days—still looms.

Maybe some part of you did die in that place. Maybe Breeth did kill you. You aren’t yet sure what part of you has passed into nothingness, but there is something missing. There is a hole somewhere in your body, and it leaks onto the shower floor, draining your spirit into the pipes of the Sunder. 

The fear of discovery claws at your stomach. Who are you now? Now that you’ve failed so desperately? Now that you’ve pulled yourself out of the ashes by your own hand? You don’t want to know. You don’t want to look. It scares you. You’ve lost yourself already. The moment Jeelia fell to the ground with a thump was the first moment you died. The moment you ordered Mando to turn around and leave you behind must have been the second.

Your lungs ache. Are you breathing? 

Your throat is scratched raw. Are you screaming?

Blood lingers at the corner of your mouth. Are you dying for certain now? Has your mind at last given up? Released its hold on this pitiful life of yours? 

Mando pulls you from the shower when your body threatens to collapse to the floor. He towels off your face, dragging the water and tears and snot away from your mouth and nose. He makes quick work of pulling something soft and silky over your head. The fabric falls to your thighs, hugging the ins and outs of your body. Thin straps rest over your battered and bruised shoulders. He shucks on a pair of cotton pants then, bent at the waist, shoves his head in the helmet. In your clouded mind, you saw nothing—even when you stared at him in the face.

Gently, ever so gently, he leads you across the hall. You move as though through a dense fog. Your body gives out when you reach the side of his bed, and it is like falling in slow motion. Down, down, down until a firm mattress and crumbled sheets tangle around your heavy limbs. You roll to your back, fluffing the pillow beneath your head with a weak shove. 

“Will you be okay?”

What a fucking loaded question. It almost makes you laugh. 

But you don’t laugh. You turn your face toward the viewports on the wall. Starlight, brilliant and white and pure. You missed it; you just hadn’t realized how keenly.

Mando backs away from the bedside. A chilled breeze follows his movement, replacing his comforting presence. You twist in a panic and lunge to catch his wrist. Droplets of water dot his skin, sinking beneath your nails. Pale light hits the curve of his helmet, but the feel of his eyelashes on your neck, his mouth lingering on your shoulder, remains.

“Stay with me,” you whisper. It is a hoarse sound, cracked and tired. Human in all its fragility. “Mando��”

He is quiet. So quiet. That quiet expands, growing to a thick silence, and you remove your hand from his arm. An apology builds in your mouth, forming amongst your tongue and teeth and the long-neglected should-have-saids of the past. Maybe it’s too late for this, whatever this is. Maybe those ten days also killed whatever was blooming between you before .

But then—he lowers himself to kneel at the edge of the bed. He curls his broad palm around your wrist. “Din,” he says. “My name is Din Djarin.”

Oh.

Oh, his name.

Din Djarin.

You love it.

You think you might love him.

Tears flood your eyes, but the sting—this sting of happiness—isn’t so bad. You brush the back of your opposite hand over the jaw of his helmet. “I’m supposed to hate you.”

He laughs into the night, into the darkness and the uncertainty and the nothingness that still sits in your chest but somehow feels lighter. He lifts the edge of his helm to kiss your fingers. “And I you.”

/

When morning comes, there is no pain to rouse you. Gone is the past week of waking to the will of Breeth’s trigger finger. Your crown was lost, displaced in the escape from the mansion. There is no one here to shock you or contort your spine for his own pleasure.

When morning comes, there is no forcefield to keep you locked within a tower. You are no princess—never have been, never will be—but Breeth seemed to imagine you as one. The blue hue of your arm is a constant reminder of the twisted role you played, but there is no one here to restrict your movement.

When morning comes, there is only the comforting silence of space and the soft snore of the Mandalorian beside you.

You roll over, away from the viewports to face him. Din—Din Djarin. How sweet, the sound of his name. It flutters through your mind like the wings of a twittering bird or painted butterfly. If you spoke it aloud, you’re sure your tongue would dissolve into a sugary paste. 

You cannot make out his face in the room’s shadow. The Sunder hangs suspended in some inky part of the galaxy, where the stars hide from view. As a result, his cabin is darker than the visor of his helm. Still, you can feel him and his nakedness. The sensation of his openness washes over you in a wave, and you surrender to the surf with a choked smile.

Din Djarin. Fucking bastard. He was with you from the start, from the moment he sent a flower to your door at that ridiculous hotel and signed his own name. 

You lift a hand to search for his shoulder. You find warm, exposed skin. The flesh beneath your fingers is pliable to the touch; he’s less bulky than you might’ve assumed. Though you’ve fucked plenty of times before this moment, you’ve never had the opportunity to truly feel him, not so uncovered. You like his softness. He might appear so, but he is not all gruff and bluster and arrogance. You were wrong to assume it. There is a gentleness to him, and it reflects in the more delicate parts of his body.

Your finger dips over dozens of scars as you inch closer to his face. Short ones; gnarled ones; ones that should have received medical attention but likely didn’t. That skin feels unnaturally smooth and worn with time. You don’t like imagining him hurt. Not after everything he has done for you, risked and sacrificed for you. Peace is what he deserves now; not pain.

You skim your knuckles over the column of his neck and the straight line of his jaw. Patchy facial hair prickles your skin. Turning your thumb over, you find his bottom lip and—

A hand wraps around your wrist. “Keep going, and you’ll know all my secrets.”

You gasp, though you aren’t afraid. Not really. You’re safe here with him.

Mando—no—Din pushes your curious fingers away from his face. “I’m not—” He sighs. “It’s not that I don’t want—”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

He goes pensive—quiet, distant, a lonely cloud in a gray sky—then says in a hushed whisper: “You deserve more.”

“Din—” 

Oh . Your heart clenches at the sound, and your voice catches on the choked sensation in your throat. Your head spins. Sugar explodes on your tongue; his name tastes as sweet as you thought it would. 

You clear your throat. “Din, you’ve given me everything I need. You don’t have to give anything more…”

“Say it again.” He shuffles closer, his shoulders twisting against the bedsheets. “Forget about what I said before.” His voice is sleep-rough and divine; urgent too. “I want you to say my name.”

Avoidance—a tactic with which you are both well acquainted. You should push back, should draw his concerns out of him. But there will be time enough in the light of day to convince him of his worth. Time enough to mend your broken spirits together with a careful needle. You have nothing but time. And right now, in this moment, your time is best spent on obeying his every command. So—

You grin and purr his name into the dark: “Din.” He inhales sharply, and you laugh through smiling teeth. “Din Djarin.”

Grabbing either side of your head, he pulls your face forward. The air in your chest wrenches past your lips with a sputter. You plant a hand on his chest to keep from bashing your nose against his, and beneath the warmth of his skin, his heart thrums to a frantic pulse. Forehead to forehead, he drinks in your thin exhales of suspense. Kriffing hell, you can taste him on your tongue; like morning stiffness and a hint of mint. It shouldn’t taste good, but it does. You want more. You angle your lips upwards, near his, but he refuses to close the minuscule space between you. 

The end of his nose brushes yours in a feathery, evasive movement. “Let me kiss you when you see my face,” he whispers, explaining nothing more.

Eyes fluttering shut on the promise, you nod. “Okay.”

His lips to your cheek, a seal of commitment. He dips his head to the curve of your neck and exhales. Warm breath fans over your skin, and you shiver. “Okay.”

He remains there, tucked in the safety of your body, and you relax into him. You push your hand over his collarbone and around his neck to sift through the fine curls at the base of his skull. Brushing your cheek over his, you smile to feel the bristle of his facial hair. So many things you didn’t know about him, so many things yet to learn. The potential of the future unfolds like a map on your palms, as much a part of you as the beat of your heart.

He is a strong man, a good man, you think. His strength resides in the comfort of his arms around your middle and his hand splayed over your back. He is firm, unmoving. You can rest here. After so long—so terribly long—you can rest. 

“I thought I’d lost you.”

His whisper startles you from that place between waking and sleeping. You pull back slightly, tilting your chin inward as though it gives you a view of his face; it doesn’t. “What?”

He squeezes you close. “With that… monster… I thought you were gone.”

You realize then that he must have been as terrified as you. When you were far away and silent, he must have assumed the worst. Your stomach twists at the thought of him frenzied and afraid, ripping through the stars like a dog on a fading scent. But he found you.

You found each other.

“I’m here.” You tighten your arms around his back, smoothing a hand through his hair. “I’m here, Din. I’m not going anywhere again.”

He hums in approval—the vibrations of his chest rumble against yours—and then he lays a wet kiss to your neck. You stiffen at first, caught off guard by the swift change in the air, but when his tongue runs flat over your skin, you release your hold on the weight of moments past. You want this: him uncovered and laid bare in the darkness and safety of his room. After readying yourself to lose him, you want to revel in the feel of the very thing you’d prepared to forfeit.

Din lifts his mouth to nip at your chin before whispering, dark and loose, “Tell me to stop and I will.”

You shake your head as you fit yourself more completely beneath his broad frame. “Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

Moving his hands to your hips, he grips the flesh there, kneading his fingers in the supple parts of your body. He drags his tongue over your neck, from one side to another, pausing long enough to swirl the tip of the muscle in the dip of your collarbone. An anxious trill whistles down your spine. You forgot how good he could feel, and you certainly didn’t realize how patient he could be with his mouth. 

He teases you mercilessly. Down the length of your neck, he nips and bites, soothing each injury with the wet tang of his spit. He cups your breasts through the thin fabric of your nightgown and presses his tongue flat against the rise of your chest. You catch your lower lip between your teeth, arching into him.

“Missed these,” he murmurs. You can hear his smirk, and you smile in response, pressing your hand to the back of his head. 

“Have at ‘em then.”

Squeezing one breast with the full weight of his hand, he swirls his tongue over your opposite nipple. Saliva wets your nightgown until your nipple is a peaked bud pressing through the material. You whine as he switches to the neglected breast. He feels good—more than good. He feels electrifying. 

He sucks on your tits until you see stars. Heat pools between your legs, dripping onto the insides of your thighs. Touches so simple yet they pull you apart, turn your brain to fuzz, and set your heart on fire. Maker, you missed this.

Impatient, you part your legs and swing them around his back. You dig your heels into the meat of his ass, and his hips buck forward. His half-hard cock brushes your thigh, and he ducks his head on a shiver.

“Sensitive?” you tease.

He silences you with a quick thrust of his hips upward. Your cocksure attitude melts as his body grinds into yours. Oh stars above, even with your clothes on, he feels like a miracle. You fasten your legs around his hips, pressing your core against whatever flesh or material you can find. Din chuckles—fucking chuckles—and it only makes you all the more desperate. You want him; you need him; to wash away the past week and a half with his cum in your cunt and his mouth anywhere on your body. 

“In me,” you pant. Careful to avoid his lips, you press your mouth to his cheeks, his jaw, his neck. You are frantic to feel him as close as you can, to merge your body with his. “Inside me. Please, Din.”

As hurried as you are, Din is the opposite. He removes your arms from around his neck, securing both wrists with one hand, and shuffles out from between your legs. He anchors your wrists above your head and hesitates, lingering at your mouth. His hot breath mingles with yours. So close, close enough to practically taste. If you concentrate hard enough, you can imagine his lips descending to touch your mouth. You wonder how soft his lips might be… 

A sliver of light peeks through one of the viewports on the wall. (You vaguely wonder if he lowered some shield to darken the room, and if he were to open those shields, if the light of a thousand stars would paint him to look like an angel.) That light carves over his nose and the purse of his mouth. It is more than you have ever seen of his face, and to you, he appears as a god carved from marble. You close your eyes—out of necessity. Out of respect.

When he is ready, you will look.

“There’s something I want to do first.”

You frown, having been so focused on the nearness of his face that you forgot what was said before. “Huh?”

Releasing his hold on your wrists, he smooths his hand down the length of your arm. His eyes remain on your face as he pushes himself lower, lower, until his mouth hovers over the space between your legs. In the shadows, you watch him as he grins like a fiend, his fingers inching toward the hem of your nightgown that barely covers your modesty. You watch him as he pushes that hem up and over your hips and the smell of your arousal pours from your dripping body. You watch him as he skims his fingertips over your mound. 

His fingers—his uncovered, ungloved, bare fingers. You saw them once in the glistening lights of Xaxeris. The dark ink on the knuckles of his left hand, the trimmed nails, the width of those digits. You’d almost forgotten… 

He presses the pad of his thumb to your clit, and any distracted thought fades to a sparkling mist. Never before has he touched your warmth with his bare hand, and each brush of his skin against your most intimate parts sends you skyrocketing to oblivion. Gentle, slow circles on your clit—around and around and around. Your legs fall open, knees hitting the firm mattress with a thud. You drag a hand through your hair. 

From between your legs, Din huffs a laugh through his nose. He drapes his forearm over your hips and presses down. Your pussy flutters, but your mind is slow to catch up. It trails behind, pausing to sift through the roses of Din’s consistent offerings: his name, his hands, highlights of his face. You watch as though from above, peering down as he moves his face closer and closer to your heat. You cannot—will not—believe it until it happens, until you feel it for yourself. Yet even so, your body reacts and spills forward with excitement. 

When it happens—when he angles his tongue against your cunt—it is as though you are reborn. You are a block of marble on the bed, immovable under the carvings of your artist. Din is that artist: he carves through your center with careful, generous movements. Jagged pieces of stone fall from your senses as he sucks your clit between his teeth. You gasp, thighs buckling inwards, but he moves both hands to separate your legs from around his ears. He takes from you more incessantly, a water-catcher at the well. Feral sounds betray your shared excitement; the suck of his mouth on your juices is obscene. It is wrong probably—to enjoy those sounds as much as you do—but it propels your hips upward on their accord. You’ll ride the high till it bursts. 

Din groans in delight, and the vibration nearly sends you over the edge of orgasm. You release a whiny moan; and you would be embarrassed, but not with him. Instead, you accept the desire to sink into the bed and release your inhibitions. If he can do it—if he can give you so many sacred pieces of himself—surely you can do the same. 

He slides a spit-slick digit into your cunt at the same time as he flutters his tongue over your clit. Oh shit. You grab a tuft of his hair between tight fingers as your limbs go taut with starlight. Keening, you dip your head back into the pillows, swiveling your hips in time with Din’s mouth and finger. He matches your pace, and it isn’t long before you tumble into release with a pitiful moan and gush of liquid. Electricity unlike the sort Breeth subjected you to zings through your muscles. You spasm, and a drop of sweat slides down your brow. Heartbeat pulsing in your cunt, you move Din’s face away from the heart of you. Your cunt is swollen, glistening with spit and your own cum. 

Din pushes himself forward so that either hand rests alongside your head. He drags the back of his wrist over his mouth. “You taste good, mesh’la.”

It takes effort not to pout and ask for his lips on your pussy again. It takes even more effort to not wrap your arms around his shoulders and taste yourself on his tongue. To avoid either action, you reach between your layered bodies and find his cock warm and wanting. You grin as you brush your fingers over his weeping tip. 

“I’m sure you taste good too,” you whisper. “But right now, I’d really like you to be inside of me.”

Din smiles (you know the shift in energy when his emotions play out on his face now), and he dips his head as though to kiss you. But he stops himself a hair’s breadth away. Your hand stills on his cock, your breathing gone tight. He hesitates—openly warring with himself and his principles. 

“Inside me,” you urge, giving his length a firm stroke. “Please.”

He nods, and you feel his smile fade. He grumbles something as he pushes your hand away from his cock, fisting himself a few times before positioning himself at your entrance. You slide your hands over his arms, his muscles, turning your face to kiss the skin you can find.

He sheathes himself inside of you in one shift thrust. You choke on a gasp, and he shudders, pressing his face into the curve of your neck. So thick and long, so filling. You shiver.

“Maker.” Din withdraws far enough to tease the head of his cock on your clit. “Such a good girl.”

When he thrusts into you a second time, you twine your arms around his neck and your legs around his middle, and you fall into a rhythm beneath him. In a way, you are separate entities searching for release side by side. He is quiet as he drives his cock into your body, and you keep your moans to a minimum. There is no excitement here; the mood has shifted. Instead there is relief and safety and purpose. Each thrust claims you for himself; each squeeze of your cunt around his cock is a sign of commitment. 

Din smooths his palm over the sweat-matted hair on your brow. He leans his forehead on yours, huffing with each thrust. “Gonna—” He grits his teeth. “Gonna cum soon.”

You touch his cheek. “Please.”

“Want you to first.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

His hips stutter on a hard thrust. He shakes his head. “Want you to first.”

Din makes good on his word, determined to the last. He angles his hips just so and grinds his pubic bone into your clit until you come high and crash fast. You spasm around him, and it sends him over the edge and spilling into your cunt with a guttural sigh. His warmth washes the inside of you, washes you clean. He kisses your neck—soft and sweet as he pulses within you.

In the afterglow, he slips from your body and falls to the other side of the bed, arm tossed behind his head. His chest rises and falls in a deep breath, and you curl onto your side to face him. The sliver of light highlights the sweat on his chest, but hardly anything more. He is but a shadow. Still—maybe—just maybe—you might love him, shadow and armor and all.

“Where is your home, Scout?”

The question catches you off guard. You frown. “What?”

“Your home, your family. Where are they?” He asks without looking at you.

You resist the urge to speak your heart’s cry: Here, my home is here, my family is here.  

“Inora,” you say.

He inhales and turns to caress your face with his knuckle. When he speaks, his voice is an even rasp. “Let me take you home.”

NEXT CHAPTER

[pix-writes]

Knowing The Rules: 1. Don’t wander off alone

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: E (explicit, 18+ | MDNI)

Summary: Din and the reader stop on a remote jungle moon to capture a difficult bounty before returning to the ring world of Glavis, but end up having to suspend their mission when the reader comes across strange and potentially dangerous plants. (before the events of ep5 of TBOBF, no spoilers; this will be part of a series, but can be read as a stand-alone)

AO3 LINK

Words: 4.4k

Warnings & tags: sex pollen, and therefore dubcon (consent is given & the pollen doesn’t affect judgement that much, but if not you’re thing, scroll on!), smut, oral, overstimulation, aftercare, no use of y/n

A/N: this fic is just shameless smut, which turned out a lot more romantic than my first draft notes for it, so, enjoy!

Whilst you knew the mandalorian more closely than anyone else, it didn’t take a genius to know that he was heartbroken, not over his creed so much as by leaving his foundling. At that point you had been friends (though, wishing to be regarded more than that as the three of you had travelled across the galaxy together for so long), since Din had taken you in and saved you from the mundanity of your old job.

Now in Grogu’s absence, your burgeoning relationship with Din had time to flourish, once you had both realised that neither of you wanted another separation, it had only brought you together more strongly. The sadness of his absence was still there, though, bringing tears up into your eyes and you had resolved to make up for it in any small way, as Din had landed you on this remote jungle moon. He had come back with wildflowers for you once, after a long hunt, and you had gotten the idea to reciprocate, since there must be flowers among all this green, right?

And now you are here. Swinging by a foot, top folding over your waist. You had reached for a brilliant looking plant when you had stumbled over a root, rolling down the steep decline in the path you had seen Din descend earlier that day. Your body being -luckily- caught by the loops of vines prevented you from hitting the matted jungle floor. Your hands being ready to break your fall, had merely brushed the strange, bright flowering plants beneath causing their flowery heads to burst with spores. You sighed, hoping whatever it was, it didn’t stain.

Just as you awkwardly raised up your arms to your waist to feel for the vibroblade attached to your belt and release yourself, you heard familiar footsteps approach and flopped back down again with a groan.

You heard the soft call of your name, a question in the tone.

Glancing over from your upside-down vantage point you saw the shining armour of your mandalorian, a hand on his cocked hip as he looked down at you. “I see staying on the ship went well.”

“I never said I would stay on the ship.” You replied tactfully, feeling the blood rushing to your hands and head as you struggled to lean up once more.

“Need any help with that?”

“I just need my-”

“Oh, this?” Said Mando, brandishing your weapon, which had been discarded on the ground near his boot.

“Yes, you’ve had your fun!” He chuckled. “Get me down – please?”

“Since you ask so nicely-” Cutting carefully and with quick reflexes he was able to catch you, setting you on your feet within mere seconds. Dusting yourself of the forest debris, although some of the pollen seemed to be sticking to you. Time to see if your hired ship’s ‘fresher was any good, you supposed.

“I wanted to collect some flowers for you and lost my footing.” You pouted as you picked up the datapad that had crushed the bunch of flowers that you’d been collecting.

His hand squeezed your shoulder thumb rubbing over the fabric there. “Sweet girl” was all he said, the inflection giving you butterflies. You smiled inwardly as you realised you might’ve reduced him to speechlessness (once again). It was a sort-of running ‘game’ for you both, though Din constantly debated on the rules and what ‘counted’. (You still asserted you were in the lead.)

But then, Din uttered your name. “-I appreciate it, but this jungle is said to be dangerous, we don’t know what’s out here…” Nodding as you walked side by side, it was a minute or two before he spoke again.

“…Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah – why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re covered in all this plant, uh, stuff, and your heat signature is higher.”

“Am I?” Looking down, though, you saw the pollen, so fine that it wouldn’t come off, which in the light had a dazzling shimmer to it. You waved Din’s concern off. “It’s just hot in this place, tin can – I’m sure it's nothing.”

Din shook his head, halting you on your way back to the ship by stepping in front of you. “No, mesh’la. It’s high – you’re burning up.”

As he said it, pressing a gloved hand to your forehead you took notice of the sweat rolling down your back and arms and frowned. You didn’t feel too different than before.

“Do you think it could be a - an allergy? To the flowers, or something?” You wondered out loud, unsure of what he was anxious about.

“I… I just think I might have seen something like this before-” He said hesitatingly, already searching on your datapad for something. “-but I’m not sure…”

“Stars above, Din! Just tell me what you think it is!”

“It’s a sex drug.” Here he paused and you gulped. You supposed a bounty hunter lead you to knowing a lot about the criminal underground and its trades; but your thoughts lead down dirtier paths, and you felt the almost irrepressible urge to ask him whether he had ever taken it himself…

Din kept pressing on the datapad, pulling up more information. “It’s a plant substance, rare, but it causes the user to become… aroused in very small doses… I-I don’t know what the pollen –in its pure form- might do.”

Oh.

“Oh.” You stated simply. “…T-then, we should get back to the ship. Quickly.”

__

Once you returned Din rushed you into the small ‘fresher on the ship, turning the lever for the water on as soon as you stepped into the space. You were sure it was probably a comical sight to see you there dripping, fully clothed. Feeling a little self-conscious at the situation, you made a remark about looking like a drowned womp rat, to which there was no response. Instead, the mandalorian helped you to strip off your now damp clothes, the less-than-tepid water giving faint relief to your hot, feverish skin.

“Washing the stuff off should help right?” He said, the stressed rasp of his voice making you moan, the sound half escaping through your lips as you tried to stifle it.

“It feels a bit too late for that, Din.”

The heat underneath your skin made you feel awful. You swayed under the stream of water and he steadied you with a grip of his hand, which was bare and warm against your upper arm, your eyes dragged upwards and you could see even more skin, the rolled-up sleeve of his flight suit, the pauldron-less shoulder – when had he done that? You hadn’t heard him take it off, had you?

Your mind felt like it was falling through a jar of honey, in a way not too dissimilar to the feeling of being tipsy; still aware of what was happening though with a pleasant buzz of pleasure, which softened the edges of your anxiety.

“You ok?” Ever perceptive, your Mando, you thought, your heart picking up pace at his concern - making him even stiller than before at the change he had noticed in you.

“Um, a bit better.” I think you added to yourself, chuckling weakly at the absurdity of it all. “L-listen, Din, it’s too late to reverse this, but I’m lucid right now, just feel a little weird – so if, if this gets worse, you have my permission to-”

“-No.” He cut you off in his firm tone: the one that he used in deals, the one he used when he told you to stay in his sight.

“But if I can’t-” You tried to plead, stepping out of the ‘fresher unaided now, though hardly able to rip your gaze away from the muscles flexing in the arm that had left your side.

“That pollen has had an effect on you,” he said, still firm, final. “Like you just drank a whole jug of spotchka – I can’t trust you’re sober.”

You sighed at that, straightening your back as you hugged a towel round you. “I just feel like I’m tipsy, Din. Honest.”

You met where you thought his eyes were under the visor. “It’ll be ok if you do - if I can’t do it by myself - is what I wanted to say.”

Din paused, shoulders going down as he sighed, one hand reaching for your chin. He hummed, seeming to assent to your judgement after looking at you closely through his tilted helmet, though still uttered – “I don’t want to do anything to you whilst you’re in an altered state.”

“I know.” You said, heat returning to your face. Though, you weren’t quite sure if it was from the effects of the drug or from your own arousal-tinged bashfulness. “I trust you, though.”

He nodded stiffly. “I’ll be outside.”

You assented, though your heart plummeted at him leaving your space and locking the bedroom door behind him.

__

He felt awful and out of place resuming his usual tasks whilst the knowledge of what was happening behind the metal door to their sleeping quarters brought images into his mind, he couldn’t seem to shake off…

Relationships were a new thing to him entirely and whilst he wasn’t wholly inexperienced, he had never shared his life with someone like this before. Practical and caring as you always were, he knew that you understood why he still did not remove his helmet, knew why you had set a slow pace with becoming intimate with each other. He was still unable to recall you riding him on the pilot’s chair without blushing, or a fresh renewal of the spark he felt within him since he had met you on his strange quest.

He couldn’t help but think of what you must be doing, how he longed to see every part of you, leave his helmet off and taste you, kiss you like he knew you deserved and so desperately wished to do for you, to let go of any restraint he had on himself, to let go and lose himself in pleasure... But he couldn’t risk it, he reiterated to himself, however hollow and futile the mantra sounded to him now. There was no doubt that you had seen his face, when he had said goodbye to Grogu. His foundling. His family. Though he hadn’t dared to name it as that, that’s what he hopes you are…

He went through the monotonous actions of checking his bounty pucks, debated on whether to clean his already pristine blaster, did laundry and checked his calculations for hyperspace. Failing in distracting his mind and flustered by the day and his thoughts he removed the rest of his armour, deliberately taking his time to place them down carefully in a neat pile.

Upon finishing his checks in the cockpit, a shimmering caught his eye, looking down to where he had pulled up his sleeves, he saw faint streaks of the same pollen across his arms.

Feeling a jolt to his gut, he attempted to rub at one of the stains and felt the heat start to creep along his skin. “Fuck.”

His cock already half hard from his previous thoughts, rapidly started to strain against the fabric of his flight suit. He keened at the unwelcome stimulation it gave as he leant back against the pilot’s chair. It was then that he heard unmistakable sobs coming from below, causing a pit to form in his stomach. He didn’t want you to be in pain. Hearing you cry out again, he was on his feet without a moment to spare.

__

All you could focus on was the almost-painful sensation of arousal that zipped through your body, the feel of every nerve thrumming with need, adding to the frustration that your frantic fingers had done nothing to alleviate the feeling, before the door slid open.

The sight the bounty hunter was met with was almost too much to bear. Thighs slick with your own arousal, body flushed, writhing and panting on the bed, your blown pupils met that visor, looking directly into his eyes you called out his name plaintively.

“Mesh’la.” He breathed. “Do you want me to help you?”

“Yes!” You gasped, legs clenching around the hand trapped between them. “P-please, I can’t- it’s still- it hurts!”

He leant over you, one hand resting against your cheek and the other smoothing your hair back from your face.

“Ok – it’s alright, breathe mesh’la.” He soothed, already reaching down to press his palm where you wanted him most. “Relax for me.”

Parting your thighs for him he settled in-between, relishing every moan, groan and whimper you gave out as his fingers glided across your mound, brushing up against your clit. Reaching for him in desperation you guided his hand down to your entrance. "Please, Din - I'm ready - please-" Din plunged two of his fingers into your cunt with ease, the lewd sounds of it making you moan in chorus.

The sensations coursing through your body building at Din's touches, his fingers curling up to hit that spot within you. Your orgasm hit you quickly, coming with a gasp at the relief you found, both pleasurable and not nearly enough… Riding it out, you heard him ask you if it was better and you nodded. "Keep going, don't stop."

Though, you needn't have worried about him relenting, as Din didn't slow on stretching your weeping pussy with his fingers, leaning down to grab hold of you with his free hand, circling and pinching a nipple, making you whine and grab onto the front of his flight suit.

"Got affected by the pollen too…" he guided your hand down to his clothed erection. He moaned, a beautiful sound to your ears, as you ran your hand over it.

Din’s panting breaths and gasps were accentuated by the helmet, uttering your name reverently. ��-Maker, you’re so hot, couldn't stop thinking what you must've been doing, to see you like this- can I?" He swore under his breath before continuing. “If we’re gonna do this, I need to turn off the lights – do you trust me?”

"Yes." You said, arching your hips into his touch before he pulled away. Plunged into darkness you could only make out his outline, seeing him reach his hands up you heard the rush of air as he lifted off his helmet and your breath was caught in your throat. Even with the pollen coursing through you, it was forgotten within that moment in your surprise. You tried to picture the brief glimpse you had gotten of his face before, trying to imagine what it must look like now as he returned to the bed.

Before you could say anything, his head dipped, tasting you with laps of his tongue and you keened when his mouth closed around your clit.

At first, he went still when your hand found his hair, before relaxing into the touch. You brushed his hair soothingly before lightly tugging at it and smiling at his reaction. The smirk was wiped off of your face as quickly as it arrived though, feeling his grunt of approval run through you and you returned to that consuming, focused desire to come, come, come…

Din was confident in what he could do and prided himself in being able to learn what you needed - but this was completely different. He was reserved, practically shy when things started getting heated between you. But that side of Din didn’t seem to exist now, and his loosening tongue was something conjured out of your fantasies.

“You taste good. So good.”  His hands came to hold your thighs open, pushing them up higher before practically burying his face in your wet pussy. You couldn’t help but wail at the pleasure of your second release, coming without much warning, babbling as Din spread his tongue over you, savouring the taste that he had long been deprived of.

The heat was still intense, you sat up tugging at his sleeve. “Off, please.”

Your eyes were now focusing in the dark, a crack of light coming from around the door and you could see Din's face shiny with your release and shivered. The flight suit was finally discarded, and you crawled over him placing your hips over his as he bucked up into you. He had been holding back a little bit you supposed you thought faintly; his skin was hot to the touch as well, affected similarly as you were. Free of barriers, you grinded against him, knees threatening to buckle as you succumbed to your desires. Again, Din was there to anchor you, helping you to rock against him.

“Tell me what you need, d’you need me to fuck you?” You could only whimper in response, and he let out a breathless chuckle. “Left you speechless, huh, how many points is that to me?”

“I- I’m s-still in the lead!” You said weakly, a smile twitching the corner of your mouth, as you knew that this response would egg on his competitive side and Maker, did you want to see more of it.

He grunted, hands digging a little harder into your hips looking like a vision underneath you, a sheen of sweat over his torso, hair falling back from his face and pupils blown. “Need you to use your words, pretty girl.”

“Yes! I want you to.” You cried and Din rolled you over onto your back, sliding his thick length into you. Soon the slapping of skin on skin fills your ears and you feel the heat rise to your face again, meeting his strong pace with thrusts of your own as he hits deeper and deeper…

You feel another orgasm approaching and you reflexively put a hand to your mouth, biting down on it to muffle how loud you’ve gotten, when it is roughly snatched away from its place. Din’s body blocks out the light coming from the door as his arms frame your sides, pinning down both of your wrists. His eyes meet yours and it is clear - even in this dark space - the intensity of his gaze.

“No, no - I want to hear all those pretty sounds.” Din grunts, his frame shuddering. “So close, mesh’la!”

Your hands grip his back, pulling him down enough so you could kiss down the length of his neck. “Need you, Cyare. Come for me.”

__

There’s no way of knowing how long it's been since you returned, nor how long you have been affected by the drug in your current state. There is only the two of you and your sweaty bodies pressed together. Finally, you are able to pull Din down pressing your lips to his, slowly, as he learns to copy your movements or to push his tongue into your mouth to slide across your own, before you hunger for that too and barely separate for breath as you indulge Din in the experience of kissing.

All the while he praised you, “So good for me… taking me so well…”

Tears start to form at the corners of your eyes, his cock twitching inside you again. You groaned at the tug of arousal the sensation brought, reaching out to hold onto anything and finding his arm. “Din, Din - it’s too much!”

He tensed. “Do you want me to-?”

You shook your head frantically, lacing your fingers with his. “I can’t, I can’t…” You don’t even know what you couldn't, at this point...

Din leaned his forehead to yours and cooed your name. “You can! I know you can, just one more - come for me again.”

He moved slowly as you writhed underneath him, moaning, mouth open and he felt you flutter around him. “There we go, sweet girl. Come on my cock mesh’la, let me-” Din swore again, voice hoarse as his hips stuttered, “let me fill you up!”

You came twice more, each release quickly succeeding the other, legs trembling and tightening around Din’s hips as he filled you, panting and whining into your neck.

Din gently rested against you; utterly spent you could feel the burning heat of the pollen no longer.

A minute might have passed before you rose to clean yourself up, with Din’s assistance. Both feeling the heady drug dissipating from your system as exhaustion was left in its wake, you flopped bonelessly back onto the bed.

A blanket was gently pulled up over you and you sighed a last breath in consciousness, Din rested next to you, an arm slung around your waist.

“Sleep ner kar’ta.”

—

The whirring of the ship is what broke your sleep, body aching as you rose sleepily, finding no-one beside you. The sounds were familiar, the humming suggesting that the hyperdrive had been engaged and you realised that you hadn’t asked Din about his bounty yesterday… well… you had had more pressing matters at hand…

Swinging your legs out of the bed with a groan, you figured now was as good a time as any to get up, you were awake, whatever time it was.

Padding into the ‘living space’ of the hull, you noticed the crate you used as a table held a bottle of water and some food bars, only slightly jostled from their original position by the jump into hyperspace. Din must have set these out some time ago, heart warming at the thought, though, you felt a little sad that he hadn’t woken you. Making quick work of the rations, you hunted down your supplies to make caff, which was made a little difficult when your fingers were shaking. Dammit! 

It was at this moment that Din made his presence known, clearing his throat. In the past, you may have dropped the mug in your hands, but at this point you were used to it, even if it was still alarming he could move in that armour so silently. You greeted him, bashful as you replayed the events of the other night, not looking round from what you were doing, though Din didn’t miss a thing and could see your hands trembling.

“Are you alright, are you feeling some after effects from the pollen?”

You huffed in amusement, taking a sip of too hot caff. “I think it’s not so much the pollen and more because you railed me so hard yesterday, tin can.”

Out of the corner of your eye you could see Din duck his head, if you could see inside that big helmet of his, you had a suspicion that you might’ve been able to see him blush.

“Anyway, how come we’re in hyperspace? What happened to the bounty?”

“I captured the quarry whilst you were asleep.” Din saw the shock on your face. Turning on your chronometer, you realised it was mid-afternoon. “You were pretty out of it this morning, and you needed your rest.”

You nodded in assent, face turning up to look at him as he hesitantly rested his gloved hands on your shoulders. “How are you feeling?”

“My muscles ache, but other than that I have no complaints.”

“You… I didn’t go too far last night?”

“No! Of course not, Din. I know it wasn’t the best of circumstances,” That was an understatement, “but don’t worry, I enjoyed it.”

His voice was doubtful, strained. “You’re sure? I felt like I couldn’t stop and I-”

“-I’m okay, Din, you didn’t hurt me - look at me.” Anticipating his thought process, you brought your hands to the sides of his helmet and looked into the visor intently. “I enjoyed myself, kriff, I’d even do something similar again sometime- though, I’d never want to come into contact with that stuff again - if I can help it!” You added, wrinkling your nose.

“But… you enjoyed it?”

“Yes, Cyare, even with the flower pollen, I definitely do not regret it so - so I hope you don’t either?” You asked, swallowing hard.

He let out his breath, shoulders sagging. “I just worried about you, Cyare…” Before adding in a weightier tone that vibrated through you. “...But, no. I don’t.”

You rested your head into the crook of his neck and he hugged you to him. Pulling on the edge of his shirt to place a kiss to his neck your eyes widened at the dark bruise you found there. “Kriff! Did I do that?”

You felt Din nod. “Oh, I’m sorry!”

He chuckled at that. “I didn’t hate it, though, you do bite hard, mesh’la. I’ll have to be careful around you.”

He was teasing, but you still felt like sinking into the floor.

“I guess this is a good lesson, not to wander off on your own.”

You pouted. “I was trying to give you a romantic gesture!”

“You still went off the ship and got into trouble.” Though he said it with no malice, you had to concede he had a point. 

You sighed. “Okay, fine. No wandering alone in strange, unknown places.”

“C’mon, we should land in a little while.” He said, taking your hand to lead you to the cockpit.

Sitting down in the pilot’s chair, you were about to sit in your own seat when Din brought both hands to his helmet. As soon as the helmet hissed you brought your hands up to your face.

He said your name softly. “It’s fine, you can see.”

“But - your creed!”

“I know you already saw my face yesterday, ner kar’ta, and I want you to see.” You let your hands drop and your eyes flutter open.

In the light of the cockpit you could see the emotions more clearly on his face, than you ever could before, he was clearly nervous, but he met your gaze and your mind found relief in seeing him. This meant he didn’t regret what had happened, either, that he wanted this.

Din pulled you down to his lap, hands reaching around your thighs to scoot you closer and hold you there.

“The bounty can wait a little. Right now, I want to kiss you again.” He said in the deep, husky tone of his unmodulated voice.

You placed your hands back onto either side of his jaw, smiling. “Then do.”

________

[boozeandbaddecisions]

Order 69

A good way to celebrate Wrecker Wednesday.

Blue divider by @saradika

Warnings: Smut, P in V, oral (F Receiving), clothes tearing, dirty talk, mentions of sex pollen

Pairing: Wrecker x F!Mechanic!Reader

It was a tame night at Cid’s. Drinks were cold, credits were changing hands. As long as Boss Lady’s happy you’re happy. That means your credit chit might get bulkier. Your drink barely had enough left to coat the bottom of the bottle before a voice cut through the bar chatter.

“Cid, we need to talk.”

You spun around to catch her top errand boys..and girl. You could usually tell when the group entered a room, but taking a quick headcount they were short one. Cid took in Hunter’s gaze and jerked her head to the backroom.

“My office.”

The clones followed Cid to her office and you upturned your bottle.

“Guess that’s my cue,” You murmured to yourself, fetching your bag by the stool and heading off to the landing bay.

It was a quick trip to the landing bay. The route offered a few shortcuts to get you to your destination. The Havoc Marauder was a nice old girl, but she really needed some love that you were happy to provide for a fee. She always had something gone or about to go when she’d come back in, so she kept your hands full to avoid drinking yourself under the table on your boss’s creds. With a wave of a fob, the ship unlocked and you made your way inside to the cockpit. You sighed as the smell of blaster oil and sweat slithered into your nostrils. You tapped a few buttons on your datapad and began a new invoice.

    Interior detailing

You entered the cockpit drawing out a cable from your bag to plug your datapad into the ship’s onboard diagnostics. As the datapad’s display lit up running checks, you ran your hand over the ship’s dash as if she were a pet. Your voice softens.

“It’s alright, girl. I’m gonna take care of you right now. Four eyes is just so mean to you isn’t he.”

Speaking of, a message popped up on screen, which caused you to roll your eyes. 

“Kriff off, Tech.” You commented, swiping away the notification.

The datapad chimed to alert you the checks were complete allowing you to scroll through the data. Life support was functioning well. Hyper drive is a bit worn but can be replaced later. Shields were offline. You frowned and dug deeper into the diagnostics to find the root of the issue. You huffed a bit of a laugh.

“Gotcha, little bastard.”

With a click of the cord separating from your datapad, you headed down to the cargo hold to go chase down a rogue fuse. 

The few steps down to the hold echoed as you took in the stacks of crates probably housing ammo, rations, and other things the boys would need for a job. Spotting your target, you approached the fuse box mounted on the wall. You flipped open the panel and set to work unaware of a pair of hungry eyes in the dim light.

Wrecker laid his head back against the wall he was bound to. The cool metal soothing in contrast to him burning up. He spent the entire flight home chained up against the wall after he took a tumble in some brush and his helmet’s air filter had failed. After Wrecker had complained about the ship being too warm, Tech had given a preliminary scan and implemented an emergency quarantine for the Batch’s explosives expert. This left him down here in some improvised restraints burning up in his blacks. He was left there alone with his thoughts until the sound of the hold doors opening reached him. Tech better not be coming back here to poke and prod him again. He was surprised to see you. Nose buried in a datapad. His heart began hammering with his half hard cock stirring back to life making his blacks tighter. 

You had caught his eye as soon as Cid introduced you to the Batch. A little spitfire, who had no problem telling Tech where to stuff his modification suggestions. His eyes roamed your body. His body heating up as he took in your breasts, your hips, how you’d chew your bottom lip when looking for something. His cock jumped as he watched you. You just had to turn your back to him, didn’t you. Those hips would be perfect for him to grab onto, and your ass. There was a reason he enjoyed walking behind you when he carried parts for you. Just the sway and the bit of bounce it offered. He’d play that on repeat during his time in the fresher. A groan tore through his throat as you bent over to get a closer look at the fuse box, the restraints rattling as he tried to get closer. You jumped and turned towards the source of the noise to find him sat against the wall.

You sighed, relieved to see a familiar face, “Scared the kriff outta me, big guy,”

You took a few steps toward him, “What’re you doing over there? You alright?”   

He licked his parched lips, his face burning at you coming closer, “N-no…”

You frowned, venturing closer taking in the sheen of sweat on his face. It however was your mistake by stepping into his range. A yelp left you as he closed around your form. Both of his hands grabbing handfuls of your ass pulling you close as he buried his face against your clothed heat. His muffled groan sparked the embers blooming in your core as he kept his grip on your ass.

“So pretty…” He rumbled, his gaze met yours, his pupils blown wide, “mesh’la…please.”

Seeing him begging like this, his hands shaking. This display made you all too aware of your now soaked panties. You nodded and your hands moved to your waist beginning to open the clasps, however Wrecker was never known for his patience. He gripped a fistful of the fabric of your pants and with a quick jerk the fabric gave way with an audible rip. Nothing covered your ass but the simple cotton panties that he was pulling aside to run two fingers along your folds. Your slick left a trail connecting his fingers and your sex as he removed them. The trail snapping as those fingers went to his mouth. The groan he produced caused a fresh wave of arousal to wash over you. Taking advantage of his temporary distraction, you scrambled out of your clothing lest your shirt and panties meet the same fate of your pants. Catching sight of you now bare before him, spurred him onward. His hands moved down to grip your thighs giving them a squeeze before lifting you off your feet soon seating you on his shoulders. Wrecker wasted no time in diving into his first meal since he arrived on planet. 

Your hand gripped his head attempting to keep your balance but also to ground yourself

against his relentless tongue. Your nails scratched against his scalp as his tongue probed inside his nose rubbing against your clit every time he delved his tongue in borderline fucking you with it. Your thighs trembled as your end drew near. One of his hands left you to palm himself through his blacks causing a moan to vibrate against your clit. The fiery coil in your core snapped as your thighs tensed around his head. A cry of his name echoing off the walls of the cargo hold.

 As soon as your thighs loosened, he pulled you from his shoulders and into his lap. His lips met yours in a desperate kiss as he guided your hand to his neglected aching cock. As soon as you freed his cock, you nearly choked feeling its full weight and size as you wrapped your hand around what you could using your thumb to spread the precum gathered on the head. His responding growl drove something in you as your hips moved on their own spreading your slick along his cock. This did not last as he lifted you once more and began lining himself up to your cunt and began lowering you down. A groan rumbled deep in his chest.

“So tight.”

You would have had a comeback for him, but any remarks you have morphed into a wailing moan as he stretched you nearly to the point of pain. You attempted to move in his grasp managing to adjust how you were seated on him and in the burning desire for movement you began to cant your hips. The new sensation causing the clone beneath you to tighten his already bruising grip on your thighs.

“That’s it, mesh’la. Ride it..nn…just like that..”

Your thighs were burning with needing to be stretched over his lap, but that was overshadowed with chasing your own release and the clone now moaning unashamedly into your shoulder. His hips bucking every time you bottomed out on the base of his cock. 

“Come on, big guy.” You gritted out, your brain fighting through the euphoric fog caused by his cock, “want you t- ohhh…fuck me where I can’t kriffing walk.”

Deciding to play with fire, you set your lips against his good ear.

“Did you hear me? I. Want. You. To. Kriffing. Wreck. Me. Soldier.”

His restraints rattled and you swore you heard metal snap as your back met the floor with him looming over you. His hips pistoning into you while his hand kept a bruising grip on your hip. This new position caused your eyes to roll back being at his mercy as he sheathed himself to the hilt in you. Your second orgasm rips through you pushing your back into an arch. His groan answered you as your cunt clamped down on him in a stranglehold that only left him to bury into you. Your aftershocks disrupted any semblance of rhythm he had. His hips jerking as he chased his own release. His mouth finding your shoulder once more sinking his teeth into the soft flesh to muffle the shout of his release. The pulsing of his cock pulling a hoarse moan from you. 

The pair of you basked in the post coital bliss. Your eyes directed to the ceiling while his forehead rested against your shoulder. His labored breathing wafting across your skin in puffs. You remained in a tangle of limbs before Wrecker lifted his head to look at you.

“I uh…sorry about uh…”

You huffed a laugh, “Don’t worry about it. Your blaster was shooting a shield.”

His shoulders relaxed a bit before he rolled off and pulled you against his side, half draping you over his chest. 

“I mean what I said..” His hand had returned to the back of his neck, “You’re really pretty, mesh’la.” 

You hummed your content, “You owe me a new pair of pants.”

“Sorry about that.” He replied sheepishly.

You shrugged with a smirk curling your lips, “Next time I’ll wear something I don’t mind losing.”  

His laugh boomed as he gathered you up in his arms and moved to stand, “Right, let’s get you cleaned up.”

He smacked a kiss onto your cheek as he headed up the steps towards the refresher. There would have to be some questions to answer later. Why were your clothes on the floor? How Wrecker ended up chained up? However, no one ever asked why the beams in the cargo hold were bowed slightly.

[supernovafeather]

An Unexpected Guest

FO!Poe Dameron x FO!F!Reader

Content : unplanned pregnancy, mention of alcohol consumption, hurt/comfort, mutual pining.

"How are you feeling Commander ?"

This question doesn't surprise you nearly as much as the person pronouncing it. Your hands still busy with the wires of your TIE, you turn around before standing up, saluting the General of this ship.

"Good morning General. I am feeling well myself. Is there anything that needs to be done ?"

Poe Dameron tilts his head as he readjusts the black leather gloves covering his hands. He looks particularly well-groomed today. His dark curls usually messy look orderly and as soft as silk, the dark circles under his brown eyes adding some depth to his sharp glare directed to you. His confident grin is the cherry on the cake of his natural charisma.

"I was only asking." He says with some kind of nonchalance. "I just read your report and I wanted to discuss about it with you. In my office."

"Of course General." You nod with a hint of fear pinching your heart. "Do I have to skip the..."

"Come with me and ask for someone to replace you." He demands more firmly. "It's pretty important."

"Yes General."

With a quick gesture you tell three droids to take your place and right afterwards you follow your superior, your heart beating strongly in your chest compressed in your pilot outfit. Several soldiers nod to give you some courage.

"It was a difficult mission." He says as his footsteps fasten. "We lost five men, your TIE almost got destroyed. You saved one of your soldiers. We lost a base and conquered another one. I hope you are aware of all the consequences of this failure, Commander."

"I am afraid I am not, General." You admit as you notice anxiously his gloved hand clenching. "Please tell me what my sanction is going to be. I take full responsibility for my actions."

He doesn't answer and this seals your throat with a lump you can't swallow. Guilt is a powerful thought plaguing your mind. You don't care much about your men, after all they are all replaceable here and you barely do anything to learn to know them. But disappointing Poe is much worse. He believes in you.

"Come in." He demands as you access his office by walking past some Stormtroopers.

A few seconds later after having barely any interest in looking at the black and white room, you let the General unzipping your outfit from the front, his eyes setting on your belly after lifting up your tank top under your breasts.

"How is she doing ?" He asks as he rubs this area with one hand.

"Fine. She's fine."

This was all an accident after you drank all too much. You started to feel this overconfidence kicking in. After all he said himself you are a part of the elite amongst the First Order squadrons. So when you crossed the path of your General that accepted to compliment your actions during the previous mission, your mind got carried away. You offered him a drink by going directly into his office, much to his surprise. After a few glasses you admitted that you found him hot, he told you the same, you said he was clever and he said the same about you, a few flirting gazes, hands getting more adventurous for the both of you... and since then you can't look at his desk without feeling guilty.

You don't even know the baby's gender, it's all too soon. You just said you hoped it was a girl and Dameron followed without questioning it. You don't feel much about him. But here is the problem, the much. Because it's growing in you, planting it's seeds and roots in your heart the more you spend time with him. A few minutes here and there per week talking about your missions and the fetus developing in your belly.

"Did you feel sick onboard ?" He asks.

"No. It doesn't stop me during my mission as for now we leave the base during the day, not in the morning." You explain. "But it's going to be a problem later. With all the other symptoms that are going to show."

"So you will need a replacement sooner or later." He adds more for himself.

He tends to kiss your temple a lot. You like it despite your lack of general intimacy. You feel less lonely and just like right now, it gives you the opportunity to hug a human being without fearing of getting punished for this lack of boundaries. You do think this man lacks of physical contact and appreciates it. Sometimes you ponder whether or not he would be a good father. You think so, after all he is sharp, clever, funny when he allows himself to be, and sounds absolutely concerned by his future child's wellbeing.

His hand leaves your belly then covers your body with your clothes and gestures you to follow him towards his desk.

"Sit there." He demands as he pats the desk.

"I didn't ce there for that." You protest with your arms crossed.

"Not for that reason." He promises with a strangely soft gaze.

You sigh. Poe Dameron proved several times that he could be trusted despite all the power he possesses. At least your child didn't get conceived with some drunk misogynistic asshole flirting with all the female pilots. He could try with men as well, he would get a huge success and be able to repopulate a pair of destroyed planets. You sit down on his desk, your feet leaving the ground.

"How do you feel ?" He asks as you spread your legs to let him stand between them. "Not too afraid ?"

"I think I can't realize fully what's happening." You mutter as you watch him playing with your fingers. "I planned to dedicate my life to the First Order. Not to a baby."

"If you keep it, I can cover you up."

Dameron pulls you more towards him, his fingers scratching the back of your head as you look up at him. He sounds genuinely concerned, his eyes serious. Yes, he would be a good father. A good and trust-worthy lover too you think but it's too soon to be sure of that.

"Is there such a big risk of dishonor for you ?" You ask.

"Not much for me. It could become. A joke but not much more. For you it's different. If you want to keep your career in the army and they learn you got a child with a General you are going to get accused of doing that to get promoted or something. And it could damage your reputation on the long term."

"I've already thought of that possibility." You croak as you feel tears coming.

His arms embrace you gently and you grab his long coat around his shoulders blade, struggling not to let yourself vanquished by your anxiety. A powerful and respected general is the father of your future child and is willing to help you in your decision. It could be much worse.

"There are several potential choices if you keep it. You may leave your career and establish somewhere else under my protection so political opponents and Rebel won't find you. You may remain there until the end of your pregnancy but people are going to know about it."

"It's not a really good place to spend nine months between the rebel attacks and the permanent stress."

"Maybe in another base, further from there." He says before kissing the top of your head. "I admit I would prefer to have you next to me. We never know what could happen."

"You really want to treat this child openly like yours don't you ?"

You look up at him, melting at his soft smile and glistening eyes. He truly is one of a kind.

"I mean... he is mine. I have my part in what happened. And... I'd like - if you agree - to make things easier for the both of us. To push people to think that this is not a baby conceived like that."

"What do you mean ?"

The General thinks about his answer for a few seconds, clenching his sharp jaws as he rubs your wrists with his thumbs.

"We could try to look like getting closer. Maybe I invite you more in my office under the cover of work. We let some bored Stormtroopers gossip between them and spread it. I start to invite you somewhere - maybe to have a dinner with me in my office again or on some planet - and it starts to make things official. Then we stage another detail. For example we kiss in front of soldiers. So you basically become untouchable and by the time your pregnancy is going to be more obvious when you don't wear your outfit."

"You are a General." You protest in disbelief. "You should find a beautiful senator or ambassador to make the First Order gain in influence. It makes no sense for a General to officialize a relationship with a Commander."

"It's not that rare." He explains as he holds your hands again. "That male counterparts marry women lower than them on the social ladder. The opposite would amber more surprising. Your records are almost perfect. The Supreme Leader himself is rather satisfied with your squadron's results. Trust me it's not gonna be difficult to make it accepted."

You smile briefly at it. It would be the best option. You would protect each other's reputation, you would keep some influence and even gain some in the First Order and anything related, financial aid, and a more balanced life than running everywhere at any alert at any hour of the day and night. And General Dameron is what you can qualify as "aesthetically pleasing" and around your age, which doesn't bother you at all.

"I need time for to think about it." You half-lie. "It's tempting but we barely know each other at all."

"Would you accept those dates I just talked about ?" He asks softly. "So we can already try to figure this out ?"

"You do want your dates don't you General ?" You chuckle.

"Well... I do think it is the best solution. And to be perfectly honest with you, even without this pregnancy in the equation I would have asked you this. You were absolutely charming that night."

This takes your breath away. You were not expecting this turn of events. However you can't permit yourself to lose your composure, your predicament is all too complex to let you get manipulated through feelings and false hope. If you do get with him for sincere reasons this will be by pure bonus.

"Thank you. I appreciated your presence as well, as you could have guessed by what followed." You say with a weary grin. "You were charming too I must admit. So... a date with you would be a pleasure."

"Thank you for accepting." He replies with a rare genuine smile. "I'll pick up a few places and let you choose. Is that alright ?"

"Sounds great. Thank you. You know the world better than I do. Outside my TIE I'm completely lost." You chuckle.

"I'll grant you a special permission. It'll be a good start to spread the rumors."

He steps back and you close your legs, your hands stroking your belly, thinking about how it could feel once starting to swollen. Your life clearly took a strange turn.

- - - -

Thank you for reading please comment and reblog if you liked it !

@salome-c @stevenngrant @lavenderluna10 @one-hell-of-a-disappointment @dailyreverie @thecursivej @lady-targaryen @general-latino @harrys-tittie @laura-naruto-fan1998

[youranemicvampire]

SLOCG Season 2 thoughts and opinions with Spoilers

First of all, I just wanna say that all 4 of them are very funny, lovable and precious. <3

As much as i love this show, it’s hard for me to recommend it to others without sounding weird. 

They need more episodes! I’m ok with like 30 mins per ep coz it feels like a sitcom-ish, but waiting a year for 10 episodes??? TORTURE. They need at least 20 since the eps are short.

Aside from my main lesbian girl Leighton, Kimberly is my favorite until she did that thing in the finale. 

Pauline Chalamet is an underrated actress! She’s amazing even before i found out she’s Timothee’s sister. It means, she’s great on her own. Comedic timing = 10/10

So Leighton is a rich, math genius lesbian like she really won the lottery. Also, how can she be so good at math when she’s gay???? That’s unfair. 

GRACIE DZIENNY!!!!!! If you’re a First kill fan, you would understand the happiness when she first appeared on SLOCG. WLW crossover!

Why you keep pairing Whitney with mediocre white men???? I’m so tired. Also, please give her a stronger storyline and make her bi, thanks. I don’t know if i’m in the position to say this, but i feel like the writers are being too safe and scared (?) about Whitney’s arc.

Canaan is the only man i can tolerate for Whitney, but they didn’t have that much chemistry, they just look good together. 

LeighTum is sooooo hot. I know them looking and acting alike is so funny, but they are hot. 

I’m so happy that there’s no problem with Leighton’s coming out to her friends and family. I know it’s a reality for most to receive a bad reaction, but i’m glad the writers didn’t go that way coz we are tired. We deserve to see a happy lesbian on screen.

Sorry, but i have to defend Bela with the cheating issue. Eric is not an amazing man like Bela said. He f*cking stole the opportunity when we all know that it’s 100x harder for a brown woman to be in that industry. He has connections w/c he revealed during the argument, but he still did that. Bela cheating on him was nothing compared to what he did. 

Leightum x Leighcia issue: First of all, I love them both so i really don’t know where to side, but i feel like Alicia is getting hate too much? They all said horrible things including Leighton, but Alicia is the only one who’s getting massive hate and that’s unfair. I don’t think Leightum’s breakup was forced at all. What Tatum said was a big deal and them being a twincest ship was an obvious metaphor on Leighton’s old habits. I thought we only like “mean girls” for fun, but some are starting to glorify rude behavior. 

Let’s move on to the real enemy w/c is Kimberly x Canaan coz WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUk. Ok i mean we cannot choose who we love, but BOTH OF THEM didn’t think it through. Lila was right, Kimberly shouldn’t have acted on it. Or at least for a while? She didn’t even wait for a longer time and talk to Whitney about it. Same with Canaaan. Whitney asked her to give her a chance to talk and explain, but she blew it. I was rooting for you Kimberly! We were all rooting for you! How dare you???!

So with these last episodes, we would wait a year to know what will happen to the dynamics of the 4 girls now that Bela is transferring and Whitney wanted to move to the Kappa house. Faaaaaaaak. Leighton is the only who has a real happy ending. Their friendship is my favorite part of the show so i hope things will get better for Season 3. Also, i know it's unrealistic for roommates to have a perfect relationship, but i just don't like that it will be ruined for a man. :\

[dulcewrites]

That wine serving scene was disgusting. After Laena was treated horribly and Rhaena said she’s ignored, I felt like stopping the show and I thought the next episode would show him realizing he messed up by not treating them right and mourning. Imagine my surprise the disrespect doubled down and now two brown girls are forced to be the help while disgusting father and his wife are portrayed as good parents. I have a serious side eye to fans claiming to be black while cheering all this on. ‘Joking’ with other fans that Daemon loved Laena, saying what Rhaena said about being ignored was just her being a petulant child, their weird masculinization of Baela, excluding them from ships, propping them like they can only exist when they make their father or his wife look good people. They’re saying since Rhaena smiles a lot that means she’s happy and the treatment of her doesn’t matter. Now they join in on people being passive aggressive to Nettles. It makes me sick to my stomach the behavior and I was shocked to see it. Love what one of the comments said, I do see Rhaena as a hostage. What it really boils down to is they want their Daemon ship to look wholesome and they don’t care about Baela or Rhaena. They’re pretending to demand more scenes but really just want more wine serving and having Baela-a legitimate princess with no reason to want to risk her life-fight for people who couldn’t care less about her. They keep saying they want more characterization for them and then sneak in “showing Daemon as a good dad”. The girls get in the way of the ship by doing anything other than nodding their head. Also Jace conveniently never hears the rumors of Laenor getting murdered and Baela and Rhaena don’t care about uncle Laenor either even after their uncle Vaemond is beheaded in front of them.

Yeah I think daemon’s characterization as a father is super… weird. little fun fact but I got into hotd “late”. Like I binged eps 1-7 the Saturday before ep 8 came out. And much like got, which I did not watch, I still saw memes/tweets about the show. So I kept seeing those ‘daemon is the father who stepped up’ comments. So I came in thinking he was a good father 💀💀💀. I think daemon in general got a weird edit. I don’t even know how to explain it tbh.

As for Rhaenyra, I’ve said this before but I think a lot of the changes and or decisions made were to uplift Rhaenyra. Like how vaemond dies in the show versus in the book is one of them. Just like how I think they were very intentional of showing Rhaenyra having birthing scenes versus say Alicent or Helaena. The birthing scenes were only for move the plot along (aemma or laena) or to get the viewers to root or sympathize with nyra (birth of joff or stillbirth of visenya).

One decision that makes no sense is not giving the children on the black side any real scenes examining their relationship with their parents. We get these really nuanced moments on the green side for better or worse. We have rhaena very clearly saying daemon igrnores her… and absolutely no pay off. No Laena reaming him out for it (you can not tell me she would be ok with that. Show laena was just there to show daemon is “lost”). No showing how it effected Rhaena or Baela. No why did Baela get to go to driftmark. I can’t imagine rhaenys just asking for one and not both. So did Baela just up and leave. Did rhaena want to stay at dragonstone for dragons?? Why don’t we see Baela being “just like her father?” They should have played up how different Baela and rhaena’s personalities are

Then we have that moment with Lucerys, and him being scared of his inheritance/calling his mom perfect. While it is very in character, it still feels like a “how can we make Rhaenyra look like the best mom ever” despite making missteps just like every other parent in the show. We don’t really get how the boys actually feel about BOTH of their dad figures being gone and replaced with daemon of all people. And like you said, rhaena and Baela will be fighting for a family that we have not seen them have a connection for. Hopefully that comes in s2…. But team black in general seem very shallow right now 🤷🏽‍♀️

As for the ships, I’ve said this before but if Baela and or rhaena were white like in the books, the amount of content with them would go up. White girls are always going to be used as peoples self inserts and seen as deserving of content (look at how people are treating Helaena. So many people strip her of things to make her a self insert for Aemond. Or the plethora amounts of Rhaenyra daughter x Aemond fics. OR the Lucerys gender bent ones??). Make a character black, and suddenly they aren’t ship material. Typical fandom bs

[iamaicecreamlover]

Types Of Ships

The types of ships I have supported as a fan in my many fandoms. I can’t speak for every fan, but maybe one of these will relate to you. WARNING! This is gonna be long. You may disagree with some examples, if you do GET OVER IT. Also some ships may be from the same anime so mixed feeling alert incoming.

The Canon Ships

These are the ships that you shipped because they're canon. The creators and everyone behind the scenes guided you to supporting their choice. Rewarding you and every other fan with adorable and can’t help but love scenes. By time these ships become your OTP you’ll be pleading for them to finally become canon because you know it's going to happen, eventually. 

Personal Examples; Natsu x Lucy from Fairy Tail, Inuyasha x Kagome (honestly f*ck Kikyo the zombie) from Inuyasha, Midoriya x Ochaco from Boku No Hero Academia, and my favorite Hinata x Naruto from Naruto/Naruto Shippuden.

When I first started getting into anime, I was only a fan of canon ships. I may have found other ships cute but because they weren't possible in canon I never thought about it with my imagination. Learned to get rid of that thinking quick, LOL!

P.S Hinata deserve better than just being a love interest!

The Gay Ships

I would love to say if they were a het couple I would still ship it, but it almost 100% possible its because there gay that I ship it. In a heteronormative society sometimes you just need a good old gay couple to hard core ship, whether there canon or not.

Personal Examples; Steve Rogers x Bucky from Marvel, Santana x Brittany from (hate to love this show) Glee, and my one of my many gay favorites Aziraphale x Crowley from Good Omens

The Only Support As Fanon ships

Some ships you know should never be canon, but you can’t help but dream of the possibility. Something just draws you to the beautiful mess that would be that ship.

Personal favorites; Charlotte x Ichiya from Infinite Stratos, Hawks x Dabi from Boku No Hero Academia, my OTP of guilty pleasures Bakugou x Midoriya from Boku No Hero Academia

Seriously, never let these ships be canon. My head might explode because of how much is wrong with it. So many toxic relationships

P.S Loveeee Barbarian Bakugou or Dragon Tamer Bakugou design, either way he doesn't have a shirt on so I’m good!

The Enemies To Lovers ships

Didn’t realize I was so into these ships until they recently became a bigger thing over the years.

Personal Favorites; Logan x Veronica from Veronica Mars, Garcia x Alvez from Criminal Minds, Claire x Bender from Breakfast Club, Lux x Amity from Owl House, and my one of my all time favorites Catra x Adora from She-Ra Princesses Of Power

OH COME ON, SHE JUMPED INTO FIRE FOR HER! HOW DO YOU NOT SHIP THAT!!

The Stumble Upon A Great Fanart, Fanfic, Donjin, or Video And Now I’m On Board ships

All of these ships I genuinely had zero interest in until their fandoms hit me over the head

Personal Favorites; Lisanna x Bixlow from Fairy Tail, Yang Xiao Long x Blake Belladonna from RWBY, and wow there is sooo much fanfiction for them Harry Potter X Draco Malfoy from Harry Potter

The Background Couple Ships

That couple thats always behind the main pairing or even further into the background but even a glimpse of them keeps the ship alive even if there not together.

Janna x Tom from Star Vs The Forces Of Evil, Pacifica x Dipper from Gravity falls, and all pairing from Monthly Girls Nozaki-kun (seriously there all hilarious and would be great together)

The Equal Footing Ships

Especially canon couples sometimes the ship feels uneven. Sometimes it’s there appearance but sometimes it just how one partner treats the other that you can’t help but ship another couple since each person in the relationship seems to have met their match.

Shego x Kim from Kim Possible and Kaito x Shinichi from Detective Conan.

The Cry So Hard Ships

When the pairing you’ve been rooting for never happens and all you can think is, ‘whyyyyy!!!’

Personal Favorites; Yui x Hinata from Angel Beats, Kaori x Kosei from My Lie In April, and Hatori x Kana from Fruits Basket

The Childhood Ships The ships you saw growing up that made you the fan you are today Personal Favorites; Ned x Moses from Ned Declassfied, Quinn x Logan from Zoey 101, and Sam x Freddy from ICarly

The OTP Ships

The couples that you can’t stop squealing, daydreaming, reading fanfiction, looking at fanart, and yearn to see how their children look

Personal Favorites; Percy x Annabeth from Percy Jackson, Cress x Thorne from Lunar Chronicles, Ryuuosuke x Rita from Sakurasou No Pet Na Kanojo, Anya x Damien from Spy x Family and my recent top favorite Sasaki x Miyano from Sasaki to Miyano

This defines their relationship so much ❤️

Thanks for reading to the end, especially since I know how long this is. Took me a while to type it all. This is dedicated to the fandoms. If you're a fan in any of my fandoms, I hope it's nice to know someone can relate to loving love. 

[stupid-simp33]

A Song So Sad

Sebastian x f! Reader

Summary: Sebastian and Ciel are out in the town gathering new China and Tea when they hear a lovely tune playing in the town square; a violin sonata so beautiful and sad it makes even the clouds cry.

Request: nope

Warnings: none?

—————————

“London and it’s damn clouds.” The young master chided distastefully. Sebastian looked upwards with an expressionless gaze. “It appears it’s going to rain; young master we should return home soon.” The tall man looked to his pocket watch and shuffled the many boxes he balanced and carried; hoping to avoid the rain with the boys fragile health he could only silently wish to go home and start on dinner preparations. It was getting quite late. Sebastians ears perked as the young master stopped walking abruptly infront of him. And he could tell why.

A tune so beautiful reached his ears in no time at all. Entrancing the two men like a sirens song, luring their ship to crash into the rocks. The two followed the other people that were seemingly in a state of hypnotism to the town square. Could this be another demon? Sebastian queried to himself. A semi large crowd had gathered to find the source of the music. To find the song so sweet and so sad it appealed to all.

Sebastians trance was broken at the sound of weeping. Mothers held their children close as they weeped quietly into their husbands and fathers. Young Children stared emptily into space not knowing how to express the flurry of emotions. Men bit their lips as silent tears dropped from their glazed eyes, and slowly rolled down their cheeks like honey from a jar. What is this? I’ve never seen such a mass reaction to merely music. Red orbs flitted around taking in the scene and his thoughts started to bubble up out of the haze. What he could not comprehend was why no one was leaving. If this was causing them all to act so unseemly why would they not leave to uphold their families image? If anything only more and more people continued to gather. The smell of salty tears stung his nose. A pull at his sleeve caught his attention and looked down. He was shocked at the sight.

His young master was crying. Clear Fat tears rolled steadily down his round baby like cheeks. His uncovered blue eye shone with a storm of emotions, his lip trembled as he tried to control his ragged breathing in efforts to remain quiet. It would be unsightly for the queens watchdog to breakdown with the rest of the unfortunate public around him. But what the butler from another realm so off guard was the innocence. The innocence that was held in the young masters crystal blue orb was that of a child who hadn’t lost his entire family to a fire. Hadn’t been kidnapped and branded and sold. Hadn’t made a contract with a demon. This was an eye that held the purest innocence and clearest emotions. Sebastian put a gloved hand on the young masters head and shut his ruby eyes. He gave a smile that was neither real nor fake. It was simply an expression to comfort the child before him.

The sudden contact from his butler broke Ciel from his state of purity. His eye shadowed over in slight embarrassment as he swatted the mans hand from his hair. He rubbed at his cheeks with his silk black gloved hands and looked to the centre of the crowd. “Is this one of your kind?” Ciel hissed with a glare to the ground. “I do not believe so.” Sebastian murmured in order to not disrupt the eerie quietness amongst the people. “Well is it an angel then?!” Ciel was hit with too many emotions for him to be rational at the moment. But he at least remained hushed. “That is not it either young master. I believe it’s human. I sense no divine presence.” Sebastian replied watching the young lord like a hawk. “I demand you find who ever is making this music...after the song is finished.” He paused and Sebastian quirked a single fine black eyebrow, of course he expected his master to make a request but he wasn’t prepared for the second but of his sentence. How peculiar... Sebastian thought to him self. The butler decided only now to find the source of the sound. He had been too caught up in the crowds reactions to really think about who exactly could be causing such a scene.

It was fairly easy though. All he had to do was look straight and he’d see the being responsible. So simple. But why couldn’t he. He tried to look ahead but it felt almost wrong to do so. His eyes would flirt so quickly over the centre of the gathering he wouldn’t be able to really see the person in the middle. He could look around the sides and look down and up but it was like a nagging feeling kept him from looking straight ahead. Then he noticed it. Not a single person had their gaze lifted to watch. Their eyes were either set on the stormy clouds that settled over head getting darker by the minute, or the filthy ground beneath their shoes. What on Earth... Sebastian was growing sick of this game. The song was beautiful he could deny no longer but it was long and he needed answers immediately. The slight thunder accompanying the atmosphere and the chords being played alerted Sebastian JD was going to rain. And soon.

“Well? Do you see it?” Ciel hissed, his composure back as well at it could be. “I’m afraid not.” Sebastian murmured back, his hushed tone Curt in annoyance. The song was becoming more tense and its tempo quickened. A baby’s wait could be heard from the other side of the circle. This alerted everyone and startled the crowd but the music played on. What was this power? Not divine. Not demonic. More thunder yet this time closer and louder. A deep root note was strewn about quickly turning into sharp high pitched notes as lightning flashed not far. The songs notes weren’t as soft and alluring anymore. They were aggressive and hostile. The clouds were turning into the darkest grey that rivalled black. Sebastians head whipped around as more people let out wails and released cries. There’s no way this creature is human! So why do I not sense any powers? He thought. Sebastian gritted his teeth. This cretin he no longer liked was starting to irritate him. The song was aggressive but came to a halt! There was no more tune. No more notes. No more chords. It was like a dramatic pause.

Drip.

Drip.

Shaken from his frustrated state he opened his eyes. When had he closed them?

Drip.

More drips. More rain. More patters. More water. The song played again. Softer and quieter. You’d strain to hear it but hear it you could. The clouds weeped, a light sheet of rain dribbled upon the emotion-filled citizens of London as they held their faces and cried. As the song came to a close people hugged their loved ones and those along hugged them selves. In a society where emotions are often fake or subdued this was a change none had ever experienced before. It was raw. The music left a feeling of raw-vulnerability in the chests of all who heard it.

Once more Sebastian looked down to his master to see his head down and his small hand clutching where his heart was. “Find them and bring them to me. Now.” Ciel demanded through gritted teeth. As the crowd dispatched and stumbled away-some still crying and weeping- Sebastian gave a shallow bow. “Of course young master.” He unfolded an umbrella handing it to the boy and took long strides towards the centre which he could now face with out struggle, leaving his shaking master behind.

Sebastian expected many things when he found who ever it was that created such an event. Who ever had elicited such a mass response from even the weather and gods them selves to make them cry with their mortals on earth. They were probably of looks to rival a goddess or angel. The sincerity and raw feelings cast upon all those who heard it- even ensnaring a demon for a period of time. Rain soaked through his tail coat and into his vest. The cold water droplets reaching his skin with ease yet it did not phase him. He was on a mission. A mission ordered by his young master. A mission to find the being responsible for the gods cry’s.

What he found was none of his expectations.

A girl of average height with now soaked s/c skin, clad in a peasants cream coloured dress that dropped with the clouds tears was knelt at a violin case. She was ordinary looking enough. No extravagant gown made of fine silks and ribbons. No bonnet of flowers. No wings protruding from her back as he honestly expected. Just a girl with An old beat up case with faded leather and that was closed with a click. The well taken care of instrument held inside with care to protect from the unseemly weather. This was not right at all. How could such a simple thing do such an extravagant action that could be compared to a divine being? E/c orbs shifted up in shock to the man before her Who’s scrutinising stare burned holes through her. The two held eye contact and she gave a crooked smile. Her pinky lips quirked up at the corner as her velvety voice spoke, “most people leave after I’m done.” A french accent was woven thick in her words. “You...you are different though. I sense you are very different.” She nodded as she stood up. The rain pattering onto her and drenching her. Her hair looked like she had just showered, it was flush against her rosey cheeks and plastered across her face. The curls/strands sagged from the water weight.

“Are you the one who played that song.” The younger voice demanded rather than asked. She nodded and gave a smile to the Earl. Her e/c eyes held contact with his uncovered blue one. Rain pattered and bounced from the black umbrella. She gave a curtsy, “Ouí, my name is y/n l/n. I hope you enjoyed my playing.” She bowed her head in respect. From his cloths and the fact he had a butler she could tell it was better to be polite and respectful.

“I am Ciel Phantomhive. I would like to request you accompany my butler and I back to our estate. I wish to ask about your music. You will be given dry cloths and fed accordingly of course.” The Earl stated curtly. Distrust clear in his suspicion blue eye.

“My music is simply the emotions every person feels.” She closed her eyes this time, giving a broader smile, before turning around and walking down the street in the rain.

“Young master-“ Sebastian was cut short by the boy.

“Leave it.” He glared at her receding figure. “Just leave it. Take me home now Sebastian. I’m tired and cold.” Ciel turned with a swish of his black out coat and walked back the way they’d arrived god knows how long ago. The rain continued to patter onto the road and those who couldn’t find shelter. The thunder rumbled with great power in the distance. Emotions filled all of London and Sebastian could taste them all in the damn air. What a creature. His eyes flashed as he took a deep breath to calm him self.

“Yes young master.”

END.

——————————

A/N: honestly I would have loved to make this into more of a series but I didn’t wanna make the shot too long and loose the vibe so sorry if the endings kinda awkward.

[donutloverxo]

Before you

*not my gif*

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

Note - this was requested by the lovely @whimsicalrogers thanks for all the icons, lock screen and dividers you made me! Thanks for the beta and all your advice @stargazingfangirl18. I hope I do you all proud🤭

Summary - Yours and Steve's relationship was perfect, until it wasn't. Will he be able to convince you to give him another chance?

Warnings - smut (m/f), jealousy, angst, dom/sub undertones.

Pairing - Steve Roger x reader

Word count - 4552

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

As someone who grew up watching an unhealthy amount of Disney movies and romcoms, you couldn’t help but dream, that someday your prince charming would come riding in on a white horse to whisk you away from your boring mundane life.

Someone you could love and hold forever, who’d do the same for you. Someone who’d always be there for you, to pick you up when you fall, to make you laugh when all you want to do is cry. Someone who’d be your everything and treat you as if you’re the most special person in the whole world.

But adulthood killed all those dreams all too easily. You learned the hard way that people didn’t really belong to each other. They barely even listened to when another person was talking.

You thought you came close a couple of times, but you never did find your special person. Everyone walks on their paths alone. And maybe it was better that way. You weren’t sure if you could ever completely open up and give yourself to someone else.

That was until Steve came along. He was someone as lost as you and even lonelier. Finding himself in a world he no longer recognised and among people he couldn’t really trust. It didn’t take that long for him to trust you.

You had put on Snow White which was Steve’s favorite from back in his day. You couldn’t help but insert yourself in the fairy-tale. After all Steve did always call you his princess.

“Steve?” You mumbled into his chest laying on top of him as the end credits played.

“Yes, sugar?” He replied running his hands through your hair before drawing small soothing patterns on your back.

He only had to move his nose an inch to smell your hair and get a whiff of your soft soothing scent. Who knew something so simple could be so blissful.

As much as he loved taking you out on the town and courting you to show you a good time and do all the things he never thought he could, he also loved spending these quiet evenings in with you. Where it was just him and you, the rest of the world just seemed to disappear. He wouldn’t trade them for anything.

“Never mind,” You shook your head. ‘It’s soon. You’ll scare him off.’ That incessant annoying voice in your head said.

“Hey,” He propped your chin up to make you look at him. His heart melted at your glossy eyes. So vulnerable and sensitive. Maybe it was what drew him to you. Your ability to be so sweet and wear your heart on your sleeve. Something he never could do. “What is it?” He asked lowly caressing your cheek. Not wanting to push you too much but he couldn’t really help himself when you looked so sad either.

“Do you think...” You whispered and licked your lips “We’ll be together forever. Like them.” You picked at the threads on his shirt too scared to look at him.

He smiled down at you. Getting up to sit straight and adjust you properly in his lap. “I know we will sweetheart.” He said confidently as if it was a fact.

You looked up at him still holding onto his shirt, as if he’d disappear if you let go for even a second “And do you think you’ll always love me?” You wanted to know.

“Yes, I’m sure of it. Where is this even coming from?” He frowned “I know... I don’t always do a good job of showing you I love you. This is new to me. I’ve never had a girlfriend.” And like the dork that he was he couldn’t help the goofy grin he made every time he referred to you as his girl “But I’ll do better,” He promised and pressed a long lingering kiss on your forehead to seal it. He cleared his throat to ask “What do you think I should do better?”

“No. You’re amazing, Steve, you don’t need to change.” You said giving his plump pink lips a quick peck “It’s just scary. How much I love you and how it can all go away if I’m not careful. People break up everyday and over the stupidest of things or over nothing. I don’t want that to be us.” You sighed unloading all your anxieties.

He nodded taking your words in “I understand. I’m scared of losing you too. More than you’ll ever know.” He paused looking for the best words “What we can do is maybe talk about such things?” He slowly suggested rocking you back and forth in his arms.

You happily tucked your head in the crook of his neck, hugging him close to you. Falling for his sweet words and him. Convinced that nothing would come between you both.

***

He got down on one knee not long after to pop the big question with an even bigger diamond to really show you how committed he was.

You were on cloud nine. You felt nothing could ever bring you down that you only had happier times to look forward to.

Until one fateful day, you didn’t realise it then but it was probably when everything started going to hell, Sharon Carter got back from her year long mission in Europe.

You were only an accountant working for the Avengers. Being so close to Steve did give you some influence, which you were ashamed of liking a bit too much, but no one was ever really scared of you. You heard chatter about her and your Steve. And how now he would surely ditch his ‘normal and plain fiancé'. They never tried that hard to hide it from you. They probably thought you weren’t here for the long haul.

“Hey Angie” You nervously called for your desk mate. “Why is everyone so obsessed with Steve and Agent Carter?”

“Oh you mean Staron?” She grinned before frowning, “Oh I’m sorry! That’s just what people call them. Not me though! You know how hard I ship you two.” She squeezed your shoulder in order to console you.

“Yeah but why? I mean did they use to date or something...” You trailed off knowing that it was something you should be asking your fiancé not your co-worker.

You had tried a couple of times but you were too afraid to come off as jealous or controlling. That was the last thing you wanted to be. You expected him to give you enough space to be your own person, so it’d only be fair for you to do the same.

“I don’t really know.” She stroked her chin as if in thought “You’ll just have to ask Captain Rogers. Nothing was ever confirmed they were just rumors. Even I’ll admit they would make gorgeous blonde babies. But girl! You don’t have anything to worry about! You’re the one who has the ring.” She tried her best to assure you but the seeds of doubt and fear had taken roots in your mind.

Steve assured you that there was never anything between them. They flirted with the idea of dating for a while before she went away, he doubted there’d ever be anything between them. He couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. Not when he’s so madly in love with you.

He was so convincing and charming.

The things that set him apart from everyone else, which you loved about him, were his honesty and loyalty. He blamed his Ma and 1920s raising but you didn’t care. He was perfect in your eyes. He didn’t need to fit in. Those things made him Steve Rogers. Your Steve.

***

You had never been more ashamed than when you went through Steve’s things to get some sort of clue. You went through his sketches to find if he was secretly harboring any kind of feelings about her. You only found sketches mostly consisting of you and the Avengers, some of Bucky and his mom.

You sighed in relief, but then, at the bottom of his drawer you found a sketch of Sharon drawn with charcoal pencil. You couldn’t help but cry tears of frustration and pain, tearing the sketch up and flushing it so he wouldn’t find out. You knew you made a grave mistake, even as you started snooping you knew nothing good would come out of it, yet you couldn’t help yourself. In the end you only upset yourself.

Steve got back from work shortly after with your favorite take out, he kissed you hello. He knew something was up but you simply lied and chalked it up to pms or something.

He was ever so understanding. Giving you a nice massage and drawing you a bath. You decided then, that you wouldn’t look for anything anymore. If Steve was being unfaithful you didn’t want to know. You’d rather live in this beautiful peaceful bubble of ignorance.

***

The next few months were tough. All your wedding planning had taken a backseat as Steve had started to look for his friend Bucky, who also happened to be the winter soldier, with Sam and Sharon.

You didn’t really have an answer when your mother pestered you about going wedding shopping. You didn’t know how to tell her that you doubted if there would be a wedding at all. It would break her heart. Especially after she had come to love Steve as much as you did.

You never complained. How could you? The whole world needed him much more than you ever could. And he didn’t seem to need you anymore.

He never had to have time for you anymore. Late nights at the offices, long missions with Sharon.

One rare night he was home for dinner, you were too busy sulking in your self pity to actually enjoy his company after he’d deprived you of it for so long.

You chose to give him the silent treatment, not speaking more than two words to him. He noticed. Of course he did, Captain America, always so perceptive and smart.

He tried to pry answers out of you for a while before his phone started ringing and he excused himself to go pick it up.

“Why do you always go into the other room to take your calls?” You asked when he got back placing his phone down on the table. Playing with your food not having the strength to look him in the eye and confront him.

He visibly stiffened at the underlying accusation in your question. He had grown annoyed of having the same discussion with you again and again. But he decided to bite his tongue. It was his job to make you feel secure in your relationship.

“It’s confidential information, doll. You know that.” He sighed.

You hummed “But you can tell me who you were speaking to right?” You finally looked up and you wished you hadn’t. He clearly wasn’t happy, his eyebrows furrowed in a frown and his jaw clenched, how you hated confrontation. Not that you ever thought you’d be confronting your Steve.

“It was Sharon.” He spit.

“Of course.” You scoffed going back to staring at your food as he rolled his eyes.

“What do you want me to say? I know you aren’t exactly fond of her but I’m not going to lie just to make you happy. Because that’s not who I am! I don’t lie.” He ranted holding up his phone “Why don’t you go through it? Maybe that will make you happy.”

You shook your head rejecting his offer. Even though you were tempted to, you knew Steve was smart. He was Captain America for gods sake. He’d know how to cover his tracks. If he didn’t want you to find something, you probably wouldn’t.

So you finished your dinner, angrily stuffing the food in your mouth while sneering at him and then left him to do the dishes.

You put yours and Steve's laundry in the washer. Even though you were salty with him you still did your half of the chores. Checking his pockets for any receipts or bills. But then you saw what looked like a shinning golden thread. You pulled at it to find that it was a long blonde hair. Which was clearly not yours.

You thought of going to Steve with it. But if you had to hear another one of his lame excuses you’d probably drown yourself.

So, for the first time, you simply went to bed angry with him. When he tried to talk to you, you retorted with a snarky or hurtful comment or didn’t speak at all. You knew just how crazy that would drive him.

***

You groaned for the fifteenth time in the past hour, your leg impatiently shaking under the table. He was an hour late. He was someone who took pride in always being punctual and sharp, clearly you weren’t important enough for him to consider your feelings. You decided to pick up your phone and call him.

“Where are you?!” You hissed as soon as he picked up. Too angry to even bother to say hello.

“I’m at work. I’m so sorry, doll, I won’t be able to make it. Something important came up.” He apologized. His voice laced with guilt. Which would’ve been enough to convince you maybe a month or so ago, but at this point he had missed far too many dinners and dates.

“Right. Of course. More important than me obviously.” You rolled your eyes.

“You know that’s not true – "

“You didn’t even bother calling me” You screamed into your phone.

“I did call.” He sighed “You didn’t pick up and I’m kinda busy right now.”

“Yeah I didn’t pick up! I was cooking a meal for our anniversary! You know what? I don’t care because you clearly don’t either.” You said hanging up without giving him a chance to speak.

You had packed some of the leftovers up for Steve but you decided to dump them all in the bin. He didn’t deserve your cooking.

You haphazardly threw the tupperware in the sink. Torn between punching a wall and hugging a pillow to cry out all your frustrations. You chose to rigorously scrub and wash the dishes.

Having spent some of your excess energy you sat in front of your dresser, putting some petroleum jelly on your palms to sooth the burn.

You sighed at the sight of your sparkly diamond. You couldn’t bear to look at it anymore. It reminded you of a happier and simpler time. The last thing you wanted was a complicated or dramatic relationship.

As you slid the ring off your finger placing it in your jewellery box, you couldn’t help but ponder on whether it was just as much of your fault as well.

You started packing your clothes into a small bag. Maybe you could spend a few nights at your mothers house until you can clear your head.

***

Steve hastily opened your apartment door with his keys. “Honey, I’m home.” He called out for you.

He rubbed his face, a nervous pit forming in his stomach. He knew he had been prioritising his work over you for weeks now, he didn’t know the extent of it until you told him off on the phone and then didn’t pick up any of his calls. He asked Sam to cover for him for the night as he made his way back home.

His enhanced hearing picked up on movements in the bedroom, he followed the sounds of your rustling, tossing his jacket on the couch.

His worst fears came true as he looked at you carelessly stuffing your clothes in a cabin bag. You spared him a glance before zipping the bag up.

He took a deep breath, he had to say the right words before he fucks up the situation more than he already has. “Sweetheart –“

“Steve, I’m leaving. I think we should take a break,” Your voice cracking a bit but you tried to be resilient and strong, you sighed as you saw the heartbroken look on his face as his jaw dropped “it’s hard for me too but it’s just not working anymore.”

“Is it hard for you?” He spit. “Everyone has problems, I just need one more chance.”

“I won’t let you break my heart again.” You swallowed as you felt tears stream down your cheeks, you wiped them with the back of your hand. “I’ll always love you but I’m tired of being disappointed and suspicious and jealous. It’s not who I am, it’s not who I want to be.”

“Wh – what do you mean suspicious?” He asked as his brows furrowed.

“I think you know what I mean. I know I’m not like a model or a kickass spy or unique. But I still want to be special to someone. I’m so...simple. I thought that was enough for you and us.”

“What are you even talking about?” He lost his composure and calm as his eyes watered, blurring his vision, he held onto your forearms, needing your touch the most right now, as if you won't leave if he held on tight enough. “I’m not special either.”

To which you scoffed. “That’s debatable.”

“It’s true. Captain America is special. He’s the superhero. I’m just Steve.”

“I know that’s what you think,” You said shaking his hands off of you and staring at the floor, not bearing to look at him “But it’s not the reality. Captain America is a part of you. And I think... maybe Captain America deserves someone extraordinary like Agent 13.” You let out a humorless chuckle.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He asked in his stern Captain voice, clenching his fists having had about enough of this.

You stiffened as a shiver ran down your spine at his tone. He had never spoken to you like that. He reserved that tone for his teammates and subordinates, and more often than not Tony. But not you. You were his precious baby.

You felt as if you were compelled to look up at him, he wasn’t crying anymore but his jaw had hardened, his face and neck flushed red. “Sharon. I mean,” You took a deep breath “I know there’s nothing between you two... probably.” you whispered as he raised a brow at you.

“But your work and duty will always come first and I know it is a good thing. But it’s not what I want. I thought I could handle it, the whole world needing you more than me and coming before me,” You spoke so lowly but you knew he could hear you, “but I can’t. I don’t think I ever will. A break will put things into perspective for both of us.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” He growled as you rolled your eyes. “How could you think those things? I need you more than anything else.” His anger was fuelled as you scoffed again, as if he was lying. “Don’t you dare hink that there’s anything past or present that I’d put before you. You’re the only thing that matters. I promise.”

“You may believe that, but your words only carry so much weight when they’re not followed up by actions. I know you’re not the cheating type,” You rambled pulling on your hair and sighing, it was all so overwhelming “I don’t know what to believe. When I go days without speaking to you – what else am I supposed to believe?”

He hesitantly snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, relieved that you didn’t stop him or push him away again, “Just give me one chance to prove myself. I know I’ll never be worthy of you but I don’t want us to give up so easily. Not without putting up a fight.” He gritted pulling your chin up as your hands played with the buttons on his shirt. “And you know how good I am at putting up a fight. I’ll always fight for you,” He smiled pulling your chin up to look at your pretty face.

“Okay,” You sniffled. “You’re always so good with words.” You smiled shaking your head.

He hummed at that. “I got you to go out with me, didn’t I?”

“What are you doing here anyway? Didn’t you have work?” you wanted to know.

He shushed you, pulling you into his chest and pressing his face in the crook of your neck. He craved your warmth and comfort especially after almost losing you. “I’ll never take you for granted again.” He nuzzled your neck before kissing it. “We can go venue hunting tomorrow. For the wedding.”

You smiled in his hold “Well I don’t know about that. Maybe the wedding planning can wait for a while.”

He hummed as he rested his chin on top of your head. He had his work cut out for him if he intended to keep you. He made a mental note of calling Tony first thing in the morning. “I hate it when we fight.” He said rocking you in his arms “But I like the making up part.”

You playfully smacked his chest. You just knew he was cheekily grinning. “I agree.” You giggled.

You hadn’t fought a whole lot throughout your relationship, but the make up sex was always amazing.

You gulped nervously as he captured your lips in a bruising and breath taking kiss. Letting you know just how much he loved you. You hummed as his hands caressed the soft skin of your ass, squeezing it lightly before he pulled you up.

You yelped as you wrapped your legs around his narrow waist. You trailed kisses down his jaw as he carried you to your bed. Giving him a nip or two here and there, smiling against his throat as you felt the vibrations of his moans.

He gently dropped you on your comfortable mattress, you giggled as you bounced.

Steve hovered above you, he was so large, he was the only thing you could look at. Your shaky hands worked on unbuttoning his shirt as he pulled your night shirt up, groaning at the sight of your soft nipples, hardening so easily at his touch. He pulled one in his mouth as he thoroughly sucked on it.

“Oh, Steve.” You moaned as his hand came up to pay some attention to your other breast, fondling it in his hand before tugging your stiff peak with his fingers. You gasped as he bit you. “Oh I’ll definitely feel that tomorrow,” You sighed pulling your shirt over your head as he made his way down your body, settling between your legs.

He looked at you as you bit your lip, your breasts laid flat as you chest heaved with anticipation. He let out a guttural sound as he saw and smelled just how aroused and wet you were for him. He licked a firm stripe up your warm folds before capturing your bundle of nerves in his mouth, harshly sucking on it as he worked you up with his fingers to get you ready for him.

The moans and mewls from your mouth and the squelching of his fingers were something akin to a symphony to his ears. He cooed as you thrashed wildly when he pulled away. “Steve!” You whined.

“Just a minute baby. You remember what we talked about? Patience.” He said as he quickly got rid of his clothes. His throbbing erection ached to be inside you. But he couldn’t help but tease his sweet girl a bit as he stroked himself above you, much to your displeasure.

He chuckled as you kicked your legs. “Patience,” He reminded you again as he bent to suck a bruise on your breast. He pulled away with a pop, pleased with the way your skin bruised under his assault, “So you’ll always remember how much I love you.” He murmured in your neck as he slowly entered your channel.

He stayed inside you just like that for a few minutes, it was comfortable like a warm hug, it felt like home because you were his home. No matter how many times he made love to you, he could never get used to how wet and tight you felt.

He sucked a few more love bites on your neck he knew you’d give him hell for later but in the moment he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He rocked his hips, slowly and tortuously pulling out of you before pushing back in till he bottomed out, searching for your special spot, he knew he found it when you threw your head back and started blabbering nonsense.

Your hips matched his pace, trying their best to keep up with his super strength and agility. He propped himself up on his elbows, he needed to see you, see your face twist in pleasure as he did such sinful things to you. Except they rarely ever felt sinful to him. It felt as if he was expressing his love for you by pleasing you and worshipping you.

“How could you ever think I don’t care about you?” He asked not really expecting an answer, what with you being so preoccupied and your mind too far gone to listen to him, as he drove his hips up harshly.

You shook your head muttering apologises and chanting his name as he felt you clench around him. Your nails dug into his shoulders, holding onto him as your orgasm hit you in waves of pleasure.

“I need you to say it.” He demanded. His thrusts lost any sense of rhythm simply pounding into you with abandon as he chased his release. “Say that you know that I love you.” He rasped as his hips stuttered. “Say. It.” He punctuated with a few more thrusts before he emptied inside you, panting into the crook of your neck.

“I know you love me Steve.” You mumbled as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I love you more.”

You felt him shake his head as he pecked your lips. “That’s not possible.”

“Yes it is!” You huffed incredulously.

“Agree to disagree.” He stated not really in the mood to fight with you anymore as you smacked his bicep, scoffing at him before muttering a ‘whatever’ under your breath. He pulled you on top of him still connected to your heat as he felt his spend spill out of you. “Can we stay like this for a bit?” He asked somewhat shyly.

You hummed, “Yes of course.” You sleepily mumbled against his soft and warm chest.

He listened to your breathing and steady heartbeat as you slipped into a dreamless slumber.

He couldn’t sleep. He only ever slept a couple of hours every night and now after everything that perspired, he was scared he’d fall asleep and you’d be gone when he wakes up.

There was no way in hell he’d ever let you. He’d give up the shield if he had to. He was as stupidly stubborn as you if not more. He was sure he’d fix everything as he kissed the top of your head and covered the pair of you with the comforter. So you’d feel as warm and comfortable as him.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm.

Comments and feedback are appreciated! ❤❤

Idk how Sharon comes off in this but no Sharon hate please! I don't have an opinion on her but I believe in girls supporting girls. Thank you😘😘

[firelxdykatara]

I’m just really confused as to where this idea that Zuko is gaycoded came from. Like people are allowed to have that headcanon but I don’t understand where people are coming from when they try and claim that he was undisputedly gaycoded and trying to deny it is homophobic when he’s only ever shown romantic interest in women.

I made a pretty long post on the topic a while back, but the ultimate gist of it is this: there are a lot of elements of Zuko's status as an abuse victim and trauma survivor that resonate with queer folks. This is understandable and completely fine! However, there are some parts of the fandom who have taken that to the other extreme and will now insist that those elements are uniquely queer, and that they can only be read as some sort of veiled gay/coming out narrative, even though that doesn't make much sense since there is no part of Zuko's narrative which is unique to any sort of queer experience.

I think the problem really does stem from two things being conflated--Zuko's history of abuse and trauma, and trauma&abuse being something a lot of queer people have experienced. I suspect it goes something like 'I see a lot of myself in Zuko, and I was abused for being gay, therefore Zuko must be gay too in order to have had similar experiences.' This can then lead to feeling dismissed or invalidated when other people point out that those experiences are not unique to being queer--but on the flip side, abuse victims and trauma survivors whose abuse&trauma do not stem from queerness (even if they are queer themselves) can feel invalidated and dismissed by the implication that their trauma must be connected to their queerness or it isn't valid.

This is also where the 'people don't actually know what gay coded means' part comes in, and I realize now that I didn't actually get into what gay coding (and queer coding in general) actually means, since I was so hung up on pointing out how Zuko doesn't really fit the mold. (And the few elements that exist which could be said to count are because of the 'villains historically get queer coded bc Hays Code era' thing and mostly occur in Book 1, not because of how he acts as an abuse&trauma survivor.)

Under a cut because I kind of go on a tangent about gay/queer coding, but I swear I get back to the point eventually.

Queer coding (and it is notable that, with respect to Zuko, it is almost always framed as 'he couldn't possibly be attracted to girls', rather than 'he could be attracted to boys as well as girls' in these discussions, for... no real discernible reason, but I'll get into that in a bit) is the practice of giving characters 'stereotypically queer' traits and characteristics to 'slide them under the radar' in an era where having explicitly queer characters on screen was not allowed, unless they were evil or otherwise narratively punished for their queerness. (See: the extant history of villains being queer-coded, because if they were Evil then it was ok to make them 'look gay', since the story wasn't going to be rewarding their queerness and making audiences think it was in any way OK.) This is thanks to the Motion Picture Production Code (colloquially and more popularly known as the Hays Code), which was a set of guidelines which movies coming out of any major studio had to adhere to in order to be slated for public release and lasted from the early 1930s until it was finally abandoned in the late 60s.

The Hays Code essentially existed to ensure that the content of major motion pictures would not 'lower the moral standards' of the viewing public. It didn't just have to do with queerness--cursing was heavily monitored, sex outside of marriage was not allowed to be seen as desirable or tittilating, miscegenation was not allowed (most specifically interracial relationships between black and white people), criminals had to be punished lest the audience think that it was ok to be gay and do crime, etc. Since same-sex relations fell under 'sexual perversion', they could not be shown unless the 'perversion' were punished in some way. (This is also the origin of the Bury Your Gays trope, another term that is widely misunderstood and misapplied today.) To get around this, queer coding became the practice by which movies and television could depict queer people but not really, and it also became customary to give villains this coding even more overtly, since they would get punished by the end of the film or series anyway and there was nothing to lose by making them flamboyant and racy/overly sexual/promiscuous.

Over time, this practice of making villains flamboyant, sexually aggressive, &etc became somewhat separated from its origins in queer coding, by which I mean that these traits and tropes became the go-to for villains even when the creator had no real intention of making them seem queer. This is how you generally get unintentional queer-coding--because these traits that have been given to villains for decades have roots in coding, but people tend to go right to them when it comes to creating their villains without considering where they came from.

Even after the Hays Code was abandoned, the sentiments and practices remained. Having queer characters who weren't punished by the narrative for being queer was exceptionally rare, and it really isn't until the last fifteen or so years that we've seen any pushback against that. Buffy the Vampire Slayer is famous for being one of the first shows on primetime television to feature an explicitly gay relationship on-screen, and that relationship ended in one of the most painful instances of Bury Your Gays that I have ever personally witnessed. (Something that, fourteen years later, The 100 would visually and textually reference with Lexa's death. Getting hit by a bullet intended for someone else after a night of finally getting to be happy and have sex with her s/o? It wasn't remotely subtle. I don't even like Clexa, but that was incredibly rough to witness.)

However, bringing this back to Zuko, he really doesn't fit the criteria for queer coding for a number of reasons. First of all, no one behind the scenes (mostly a bunch of cishet men) was at all intending to include queer rep in the show. This wasn't a case where they were like 'well, we really wanted to make Zuko gay, but we couldn't get that past the censors, so here are a few winks and a nudge', because it just wasn't on their radar at all. Which makes sense--it wasn't on most radars in that era of children's programming. This isn't really an indictment, it's just a fact of the time--in the mid/late 00s, no one was really thinking about putting queer characters in children's cartoons. People were barely beginning to include them in more teen- and adult-oriented television and movies. It just wasn't something that a couple of straight men, who were creating a fantasy series aimed at young kids, were going to think about.

What few instances you can point to from the series where Zuko might be considered to exhibit coding largely happen in Book 1, when he was a villain, because the writers were drawing from typically villainous traits that had historically come from queer coding villains and had since passed into common usage as villainous traits. But they weren't done with any intention of making it seem like Zuko might be attracted to boys.

And, again, what people actually point to as 'evidence' of Zuko being queer-coded--his awkwardness on his date with Jin and his confrontation with Ozai being the big ones I can think of off the top of my head--are actually just... traits that come from his history of trauma and abuse.

As I said in that old post:

making [zuko’s confrontation of ozai] about zuko being gay and rejecting ozai’s homophobia, rather than zuko learning fundamental truths about the world and about his home and about how there was something deeply wrong with his nation that needed to be fixed in order for the world to heal (and, no, ‘homophobia’ is not the answer to ‘what is wrong with the fire nation’, i’m still fucking pissed at bryke about that), misses the entire point of his character arc. this is the culmination of zuko realizing that he should never have had to earn his father’s love, because that should have been unconditional from the start. this is zuko realizing that he was not at fault for his father’s abuse--that speaking out of turn in a war meeting in no way justified fighting a duel with a child.

is that first realization (that a parent’s love should be unconditional, and if it isn’t, then that is the parent’s fault and not the child’s) something that queer kids in homophobic households/families can relate to? of course it is. but it’s also something that every other abused kid, straight kids and even queer kids who were abused for other reasons before they even knew they were anything other than cishet, can relate to as well. in that respect, it is not a uniquely queer experience, nor is it a uniquely queer story, and zuko not being attracted to girls (which is what a lot of it seems to boil down to, at the end of the day--cutting down zuko’s potential ships so that only zukka and a few far more niche ships are left standing) is not necessary to his character arc. nor does it particularly make sense.

And, regarding his date with Jin:

(and before anyone brings up his date with jin--a) he enjoyed it when she kissed him, and b) he was a traumatized, abused child going out on a first date. of course he was fucking awkward. have you ever met a teenage boy????)

Zuko is socially awkward and maladjusted because he was abused by his father as a child and has trouble relating to people as a result. He was heavily traumatized and brutally physically injured as a teenager, and it took him years to begin to truly recover from the scars that left on his psyche (and it's highly likely, despite the strides he made in canon, that he has a long way to go, post series; it's such a pity that we never got any continuation comics >.>). He was not abused for being gay or queer--he was abused because his father believed he was weak, and part of Zuko's journey was realizing that his father's perception of strength was flawed at its core. That his entire nation had rotted from the inside out, and the regime needed to be changed in order for the world--including his people--to begin to heal.

That could be commingled with a coming out narrative, which is completely fine for headcanons (although I personally prefer not to, because, again, we have more than enough queer trauma already), but it simply doesn't exist in canon. Zuko was not abused or traumatized for being queer, and his confrontation with Ozai was not about him coming out or realizing any fundamental truth about himself--it was about realizing something fundamental about his father and his nation, and making the choice to leave them behind so that he could help the Avatar grow stronger and force things to change when he got back.

TL;DR: at the end of the day, none of the traits, scenes, or behavior Zuko exhibits which shippers tend to use to claim he was gay-coded are actually evidence of coding--they aren't uniquely queer experiences, as they stem from abuse that was not related in any way to his sexuality, and they are experiences that any kid who suffered similar abuse or trauma could recognize and resonate with. (Including straight kids, and queer kids who were abused for any reason other than their identity.) And, finally, Zuko can be queer without erasing or invalidating his canon attraction to girls, and it's endlessly frustrating that the 'Zuko is gay-coded' crowd refuses to acknowledge that.