#i find I can do it with drawing but even then there are times where I stray away and do something else

[ari-ana-bel-la]

omg can you write one for Lewis where he makes a special helmet with some of the drawings his daughter has made for him, his helmet ends up having stars rainbows etc

A Helmet full of Art

The moment Lewis became a father, he knew nothing would ever matter more to him than his little girl, Yn. At just three years old, she had already captured his entire heart, filling his life with laughter, tiny hugs, and endless chatter about her favorite things. She was a bright little spark—curious, loving, and always eager to create something new.

And lately, that "something new" had been drawings.

Lewis had first noticed it when Yn would sit at the coffee table, her tiny tongue sticking out in concentration as she held a crayon in her chubby hands, dragging colors across the page with uncontainable enthusiasm. At first, her drawings were just a mix of squiggles and chaotic rainbows, but over time, they started to resemble actual things—flowers, cats, and even an attempt at drawing both of them together.

"Look, Daddy!" she'd exclaim every time she finished. "This one’s you and me!"

And every single time, Lewis' heart melted.

He was the kind of father who supported Yn in anything she wanted to do. If she decided tomorrow that she wanted to be an astronaut, he’d find her a tiny space suit. If she wanted to become a ballerina, he’d be at every recital. So when he saw how much she adored drawing, he went all in—buying her the best colored pencils, sketchbooks, and even a little artist’s apron.

But what he hadn’t expected was how much her drawings would come to mean to him. He kept every single one. The rainbow she had drawn with colors that didn’t quite follow the traditional order. The cat that had oddly shaped whiskers but still looked adorable. The one of them together, with his curly hair drawn way too big and Yn’s little stick-figure self holding his hand. The flowers and bees that she had proudly declared were for him because "you like flowers, Daddy!"

So when the time came for his first home race as a Ferrari driver, Lewis wanted his helmet to be special.

And there was only one thing that felt right.

The paddock was buzzing with anticipation. It was Lewis’ first home race wearing Ferrari red, and everyone knew he’d do something big. But no one expected what he revealed when he stepped into the garage on Friday.

"Alright, guys," Lewis said, grinning as he pulled the cover off his new helmet. "Meet my new favorite helmet ever."

The garage fell silent for a moment. Then—

"Oh my god," Charles breathed out, stepping closer. "Are these… Yn’s drawings?"

Lewis beamed. "Yep."

The helmet was a masterpiece. Instead of his usual bright yellow, it was now a canvas filled with his daughter’s art. Her rainbow stretched across the top, her wobbly cat drawing sat proudly on one side, the flowers and bees covered another part, and right at the back, a big, bold drawing of them together. It was messy, colorful, and absolutely perfect.

"You actually put them on your helmet," Carlos said, grinning. "Man, that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen."

"She loves drawing," Lewis explained, running his fingers over the helmet. "And I love everything she makes. I wanted her to be part of this weekend somehow, and this felt right."

Oscar, who had just arrived, let out a low whistle. "This might be the most wholesome thing I’ve ever seen in F1."

Pierre nudged Max. "Admit it, even you think this is cute."

Max rolled his eyes but smirked. "Yeah, yeah, it's cute. Not as cute as my cats, though."

Lando burst out laughing. "I swear, you and your cats—"

"But seriously," George interrupted, shaking his head in admiration. "This is incredible, mate. I bet Yn’s gonna freak out when she sees it."

"She hasn't seen it yet," Lewis admitted. "I wanted it to be a surprise."

And oh, he couldn’t wait to see her reaction.

Later that afternoon, after all the practice sessions, Lewis finally had time to call home. He was sitting in the Ferrari motorhome, holding his phone in his hands, waiting for the call to connect.

The moment the screen lit up, Yn’s bright little face appeared, her curls bouncing as she gasped.

"Daddy!" she squealed. "Hi hi hi!"

"Hey, baby," Lewis grinned. "I’ve got a surprise for you."

Yn's eyes widened. "A 'prise? For me?"

Lewis laughed, turning his phone camera around to show his helmet. "Look at this, baby. Do you recognize these drawings?"

For a second, there was silence. Then, an excited shriek.

"THAT’S MINE! THAT’S MY DRAWINGS!" Yn shouted, practically bouncing. "Daddy, you put them on your hat!"

"Helmet, baby," Lewis chuckled, his heart swelling at her excitement. "But yeah, I did! Now, when I race this weekend, I’ll have you with me."

Yn clapped her hands together, eyes shining. "I love it! I love it, I love it, I love it!"

On the other side of the call, Yn’s grandmother laughed. "Lewis, you’ve just made her entire year."

"That was the plan," he said, winking.

Yn leaned close to the camera, her tiny hands gripping the screen. "Win with my pictures, Daddy!"

Lewis smiled softly. "I’ll try my best, baby girl. Just for you."

When Lewis walked into the paddock on Saturday with his helmet under his arm, the cameras instantly caught sight of it. And within minutes, social media exploded.

@F1: Lewis Hamilton’s helmet this weekend is covered in his 3-year-old daughter’s drawings, and we’re not crying, you are.

@SkySportsF1: Lewis dedicates his home race helmet to his daughter Yn, featuring her personal artwork. A touching tribute from the seven-time champion.

The media went crazy over it. Every journalist wanted to ask about it, every interview started with the same question:

"Tell us about your helmet this weekend, Lewis."

And every time, Lewis proudly explained.

"Yn loves drawing, and I love everything she makes," he said during a press conference. "I wanted to do something special for my first home race with Ferrari, and there was nothing more special than this. It’s my way of carrying her with me on track."

The fans adored it. In the grandstands, they held up signs with her drawings, and Ferrari even arranged for a little sketchbook to be placed in the garage for Yn to "design" future helmets.

By Sunday, it wasn’t just a helmet—it was a symbol of love.

As Lewis strapped himself into the car, he ran a hand over his helmet one last time.

"For you, baby girl," he murmured.

And then, with the whole world watching, he raced.

He raced with his daughter’s rainbow on his head, with her flowers and bees bringing color to the Ferrari red, with her little cat keeping him company through every turn.

And when he crossed the finish line in P1, the first thing he did after climbing out of the car was point to his helmet.

That night, when he called home again, Yn’s excited squeal nearly burst his eardrums.

"You did it, Daddy! My pictures won!"

Lewis laughed, feeling his heart swell. "Yeah, baby. We did it together."

And as far as he was concerned, that made this the most special win of his career.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-💙🦋

[moonstruckme]

Hi lovely! I have been having really bad insomnia lately. To the point where I’ve stayed up until 5 am some days. I think it could be due to my upcoming period, which happens sometimes. I was wondering if you could do a poly!marauders, or any one of them, where reader is clearly not getting enough sleep and they/he notice and know her so well that they know why it’s happening. So that night they/he comfort her and coddle her and make her sleepy and it’s suuuuper fluffy and sweet. Love love love your writing Mae!

I'm sorry about your sleep issues lovely! Thank you for the request <3

modern au

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 386 words

You’re half sure Sirius has slipped a benadryl into your nighttime tea. Smugness radiates off him as his thumb draws heavy circles into your hip and you grow lax against his side. Your hair is still damp from the hot shower he’d coaxed you into. 

Sirius’ lips press gently to your forehead, like he’s checking your temperature. “It’s getting late,” he murmurs. Some bitter, sardonic part of you thinks that it’s nowhere near as late as you’ve been going to sleep for the last few nights, but you’re too lazy to voice it. “Ready for bed, sweet girl?” 

You manage a hum, but don’t move. Your bones feel filled with lead. 

Your boyfriend exhales amusedly like he knows. “C’mere, baby. Come on.” 

He turns off the telly and gathers you up against his side, blankets and all. You begin the slow trudge from the sofa to your bed. Your half gone cup of tea is warm between your palms, and Sirius’ presence just as nice where his arm wraps around your waist and his hip presses to yours. 

Peeling back the covers of your bed feels like a herculean feat. You shed your blanket like a hermit crab trading shells, letting Sirius tuck you in. 

“It’s cold,” you mumble. 

“Give me a second.” 

A short time later, Sirius is crawling into bed beside you and the diffuser you could swear he’s never used before is misting a lavender aroma through the room. You can barely see his silhouette moving around in the dark, but you sigh when his leg crosses over yours. 

His lips are curved when they find yours. “Are you comfy?” he asks in a low voice. 

“Yeah.” You mirror his tone. “I feel like I could actually fall asleep.” 

“Good. Don’t overthink it.” 

You are thinking now, though. Slowly, like moving through sap, the pieces of your night come together in your mind. 

“Are you doing this on purpose?” 

Sirius makes a soft, confused sound. “Don’t know what you mean.” 

“You’ve never…you don’t even know how to use the diffuser.” 

“Sweetheart, you sound ridiculous.” His hand comes around your back, making broad, lulling circles. “I use it all the time. You’re just sleep deprived.” 

You hum, acquiescent. “Well, thanks.” 

“Go to sleep, baby.” 

“M’kay. Love you.” 

Sirius kisses between your brows. “Love you.” 

[fractoluminescence]

Might be off-topic but this reminds me of something mildly upsetting I've seen a pattern of.

There are people in my life, when I show then something I have made for funsies or because it meant something to me, who immediately point out all the things wrong with it, when I thought I had made it clear I was showing it to them because I was proud of it, not for feedback. Art in particular, but in other areas where one can accomplish things as well.

And when I tell them something along the lines of, "look I know your intentions are good here but the drawing is already made. And I can see where I messed up, and if I can't you're not able to tell me how to fix it, so your advice is basically useless to me"

When I say this. I've had people rebuke me with "but you have to learn to take criticism or you won't improve".

Uh, okay? I can take criticism just fine -when I asked for it-. Not every drawing I make is a study that I am doing to try to improve. I am doing it for enjoyment, and it's exhausting to have a person point out all its flaws every single time.

It's off-topic. Leave me alone. Why did I even show you this in the first place - oh, wait, because I otherwise enjoy your company and make the mistake of forgetting that sharing some of what matters most to me with you is oddly unpleasant. My bad.

I can tell what is wrong with the drawing better than you - I have so much more experience than you with this. This drawing is over, there's no fixing it now. Sure, if I had spent more time on it, if I bothered to redo it, if I somehow managed to understand the volume of the subject of the artwork better ahead of time...if only I was just better at art, really.

Yeah, no shit. If I was better at drawing, then I would draw better. I don't need you to tell me that.

And like. I understand trying to give advice. I have the reflex of doing it too. But then if the person tells me it makes them uncomfortable, I don't start arguing back, like wtf

---

Side note, to explain what link this has to the post - something people don't seem to realize when it comes to learning is that you need to be told what you're doing well just as much as what you're doing wrong. Because otherwise, how can you know that you need to keep doing it? That it's worth the extra effort? And you'll need to know your strengths if you are going to find a way to either work with or surmount your weak spots. And this is true of art, but of anything really.

It's not just a matter of motivation. It's a matter of understanding what you're doing right so that you can oppose a 'wrong' to it that you can avoid doing. Not doing this will sometimes lead to people's skill lagging behind in some areas because they're so busy trying to figure out what they need to learn about that aspect of things when they're in fact doing it fine. You'll have people backtracking on fully reasonable habits just because they mistakenly think a lack of feedback is a lack of good as well.

Give people positive feedback. Please. And hold back on the negative feedback unless it was asked for or is necessary

The mattress company I worked for the first time no longer exists. It was long ago eaten and assimilated by a bigger company. But when I started it was an incredibly intense five weeks of training. I was told I was extremely lucky to be selected, and I was. From a pool of a hundred applicants only fifteen of us made the cut to entering the training program.

The course covered how to talk to customers, how to ask open ended questions, how to close a sale, and product knowledge. I learned a lot, and truthfully my greatest takeaway was a lot of social scripts that I could use in other areas of my life.

We also had a midterm exam and a final. Both included a roleplay element with a trainer and a written portion. They told us when we started that the course was challenging but it was still a shock to come in after the midterm and realize half the class had failed.

I was named valedictorian of training- a dubious honor as it meant I’d done the best in the class, but popular lore had it that valedictorians struggled the most on the sales floor. Lo, I struggled.

Not because I wasn’t good. I was. But because my manager set out to systematically destroy my self esteem. Every sale, every interaction I had was scrutinized and criticized.

If I sold a bed with protectors, moveable base, and pillows he’d ask why I hadn’t managed to sell pillow protectors too. His first trainee had thrived on being challenged and he’d never bothered to learn a different way to coach.

It was wretched. My performance started strong but nosedived after a few weeks with him. My trainer, a man I loathed for stonewalling me in my interview, came in to inform me I was on new hire probation. If I couldn’t get my sales numbers up I’d be let go.

His actual phrasing was, “When you have a bandaid do you like to rip it off or pull it slowly?”

Since it was eminently obvious why he was visiting and because I thought it was condescending I sweetly informed him that I liked to soak my bandaids in hot water so they come off on their own.

He was briefly startled at this derailing but then got on with the bad news. I signed some forms stating that I understood my job was in peril.

I went home furious. I thought long and hard about why I wasn’t succeeding and how frustrated I was with my manager. I came in the next day and my anger had crystallized into a cold sharp edge.

My manager opened his mouth to address the probation and I snapped, “Just leave me alone. Go in the back if I have a sale. If you must address a serious issue then you will give me praise on two things I did right and present it as a compliment sandwich. Otherwise just say good job and shut up. Your constant nitpicking just makes me anxious and I do worse. Back off.” Belated and begrudging I added, “Please.”

He raised his eyebrows in dim surprise but I’d gauged him well. He backed off. Dutifully he’d meander into the back when I had a sale and praised me when I closed it. I resented knowing it was only because I’d demanded complimented but they still boosted me up. My numbers skyrocketed, I landed my first split king sale, and I exited probation with flying colors.

The trainer came back in to congratulate my manager for turning things around. To my gratification he gave me credit for setting him straight and said I’d taught him a different way to lead. My manager would often genuinely praise that moment when I’d stood up to him, impressed with my stubborn refusal to fail and my insight into what would help.

My biggest takeaway from the whole thing was just that people need positive reinforcement to succeed. Praise people for doing a good job. If you’re ever in a position where you need to criticize someone put it in a compliment sandwich instead of just saying the negative.

[eraserbread]

read part 1 our husband is hungover :(( what r we gonna do to help him??

➽────────────────────────❥

when nanami finally wakes up, he's drowning in an ocean of shame, throbbing, and filth. it's hard to breathe - the room is too hot, and he's alone. you're not tangled up next to him like you always were. in fact, he feels quite lonely when he sits up, rubbing at his exhausted eyes.

either he chose to block it out, or he just didn't remember anything past shoving satoru off at the bar. it's nothing new, but seeing humans die had an effect on him. there shouldn't have been casualties when he was working with satoru -- even he's a grade 1. the whole situation just made him unsure of himself. when he watched that woman draw her last breath last night, he saw you in her wake. you begging for safety and mercy,

it's the only reason he let alcohol touch his lips -- and that's probably the reason he still has his shoes on when he slips out of bed half-naked.

one whiff and a quick scan of his surroundings has him muttering curses to himself. first course of business—a bath—a long one—in one he purposefully bought for this house that could accommodate all of his height.

and in the bath is where you find him, damp, steaming rag covering his sensitive eyes.

you come bearing coffee and breakfast, unwashed yourself but okay enough to slip something on real quick and take care of your hungover husband.

your bathroom is painted in beige and greys, new appliances and fixtures all personally picked by a very tedious kento. on the neo-modern tile floor, you kneel, placing your gifts on the side of the tub.

"i just treasure you so much." he speaks before you can, absolutely blinded to you but locked onto your delicate footsteps.

it's only when you laugh does he pull the side of his cloth up. he catches the final pull of your smile and can't help but grin back. kento just knows he's a lucky man.

"you're cute, but an idiot when you drink." you start. he sighs.

"yeah, yeah." he looks at you, sitting up when he notices the spread. omlettes - rice, his favorites. and, he's starving.

yeah, even hungover nanami wants you right now, bad.

"get in here."

you end up on your knees, somehow. always. ken's splayed out under you, sitting back against the tub with his eyes covered. he lets you take the lead, this time.

surely he wasn't expecting you to tuck your hair back and take his pretty, dripping erection in your mouth. he hardly reacts, just giving you a steady little breath. but, you can see his chest tighten. he peeks down at you.

"oh, baby... that's nice." you stop, parting your lips like you want to speak. "hush, don't distract yourself."

you must be looking up at him like an idiot, because he chuckles again, letting his cloth fall back over his eyes. something in your chest screams for him -- it's a true feeling, pulling and tugging on your insides when he looks and talks to you like this... this love is bone deep.

so, you give it everything you have. making up for all those stupid, self-conscious years you spent abstaining. if you knew ken liked oral so much, you would've been doing it all these years.

quiet, respectful bastard... you hate love him.

now, he's moaning your name as you swallow him whole, throat soft and pliable for his cock to sit. it's uncomfortable at first, but so is everything, and he sounds so pretty sighing over you.

perhaps you get a bit overzealous, pumping your head hastily, hollowing your cheeks and whining vibrations over him, because he stops you. a hand in your hair that's painful but dominant and unapologetic makes you blink up at him.

"feels so good, but i may die if I cum too hard."

so, you take your time without further thought. he guides your head up and down his length, swallowing back nothing every time he glances down at your filthy reflection.

he warns you when he's about to cum, digging your face in his small trail of pubic hair. "baby, 'm so sorry, baby, I can't pull out."

then, he cums, gloriously crying your name and clawing at the edge of the tub. all of the tension he held melts away into nothingness, and once he comes down he whispers:

"thank you. love you so much."

[pbeltarts]

Hey! I decided it might be helpful to have a reference post for all the details for the AU. I'll update this periodically as new things are revealed or added. - Bec

General Info

This Au is based on Pixie Hollow and the Tinkerbell movies/books! Most of it will lean on the movie lore, but will borrow some lore from the books as well. I also am making up a lot of lore myself to fill in gaps for the storyline or make the translation from MHA easier.

You can learn more about the lore of Pixie Hollow via the wiki!

#MHAPixieHollow

Want to draw or write with the AU and share it? You can use the above hashtag so it'll be connected! I'll try to check this tag regularly so I can share your work! (This should work on tumblr and insta, but I cannot be certain for twitter/bluesky.)

Some General Guidelines:

While my AU has a plot line and is intended to have BKDK as the focus ship, I don't care/mind if you like the designs and want to draw your preferred ship with them! As long as you're nice to others, do what you want! (So even though I'm making this for BKDK, if you like KRBK and like their designs, I don't care if you draw/write that with the AU!)

I do have a storyline for the AU and am working on a fic with that, but! I love seeing others' creativity, so if you want to use the AU for your own writing, feel free! All I ask is that you don't claim anything as "canon" to the AU unless its been stated by me!

Its unlikely I'll be able to design every fairy from 1A or elsewhere, so if I haven't designed them and you want to come up with a design for the AU, do it! I'd love to see it!

If you like any of the art from the AU and want to use it for PFPs/Banners on your social accounts, you're free to do so! I'd prefer credit if you did, thanks!

Most of my work for the AU will be monochrome sketches, so if you want to color them feel free! All I ask is that you properly credit me if you share your coloring.

The Fairies

Izuku aka "Deku" - [design]

Talent: Dust Keeper Alchemy Info: Deku's wings are covered in black veins that creep onto his back and he cannot fly, even with the help of pixie dust. He's given blue pixie dust by All Might and works on alchemy experiments in secret in order to do multiple talents.

Katsuki aka "Kacchan" - [design]

Talent: Fast Flying Info: One of the best fast flyers in Pixie Hollow, he has unique control over the winds. Constantly keeping Deku out of trouble.

Eijirou - [design]

Talent: Animal Talent Info: One of Katsuki's closest friends. He has a best animal friend, a turtle named Boulder, who he visits regularly and takes sun naps on his shell.

Denki - [design]

Talent: Light Talent Info: Playful and excitable, he has a habit of accidentally lighting himself up when excited.

Mina

Talent: Garden Talent Info: Fun-loving and overly social, she loves calling forward a bunch of colorful petals to surprise others.

Kyouka

Talent: Music Talent Info: Likes to play her guitar in various places in pixie hollow for her friends. Momo, the tinker fairy, makes and fixes her instruments.

Hanta

Talent: Scouting Talent Info: Specializes in using vines and ropes to restrain threats. A fairly laid back fairy who likes to bother his friends and laze about when avoiding orders from Hawks, the leader of the Scouting guild.

Ochaco - [design]

Talent: Fast Flying Info: While not the fastest of the flying talents, Ochaco specializes in utilizing winds to create a soft floating affect. She's most useful in helping dandelions find their way to the pixie dust tree or assisting in soft landings.

Shouto - [design]

Talent: Light & Frost Talents Info: Shouto is a unique fairy where two dandelions were growing from the same stalk when it took flight to Pixie Hollow. Because of this, him and his intentional sibling became one when influenced by Pixie dust, making him both a Summer and Winter fairy. Because of this, he can do 2 talents and also survive in both climates for elongated periods of time. However, he cannot stay in one place for a whole year, and regularly has to move between the Summer Glade and the Winter Woods.

Tsuyu

Talent: Water Talent Info: One of the only Water fairies that willingly gets into water, though she doesn't submerge her wings and only stands in shallow ends. She calls Izuku "Izu-chan."

Tenya

Talent: Fast Flying Info: A very structured fairy, he doesn't like deviating from his schedule. He's considered possibly the fastest of the fast flying talents but his wind control is lacking.

Hitoshi

Talent: Dust Keeping Info: Always tired. One of Izuku's closest friends, he'll defend Izuku in his own way from others. Has some unspoken guilt that he maybe somehow was the reason Izuku's wings formed incorrectly.

All Might

Talent: Unknown Info: When acting as king, All Might presents himself in a full-bodied muscled form. But out of the public eye, he presents as a feeble older fairy named Toshinori. The other fairies outside of the Never Council and Fairy Inko don't know that they're the same people, which allows Toshinori to speak comfortably with others and keep an eye on Pixie Hollow from the sidelines. Izuku meets Toshinori and helps him with something, despite the task being far harder without the help of flight, and Toshinori sees how hard Izuku is trying and feels something special about him, so he gives Izuku a supply of blue pixie dust.

More TBA!

Other Characters

Eri

Eri is a human child whose laugh Deku was born from. She lives a difficult life.

Mirio aka "Lemillion"

Mirio is a blonde mouse and Eri's only friend, who attempts to look out for her and make her smile. Eri gave him the nickname "Lemillion" because it sounds like 'lemon' (because of his fur) and how he's 1 in a million.

More TBA!

F.A.Q.

What happened to Deku's wings? Can he not fly?

Deku's wings did not work since his arrival. They look different from others' wings and don't respond to pixie dust, so he cannot take flight. Because he was born from Eri's sorrowful laugh, there was not enough joy in it for him to form correctly. [You can see Deku's Birth comic here!]

What about [insert character name]?

I have plans for most of the main cast from MHA, but not all of them will be fairies. As for other characters, like students from 1B or other NPCs, I don't have solid thoughts for all of them and really only think of them if I plan to insert them into the story so I probably don't have a role for them.

How did Katsuki and Izuku meet?

Katsuki met Izuku on Izuku's arrival day! He was the fairy to see Izuku's dandelion come into Pixie Hollow and aided it to the Pixie Dust Tree. [You can see the comic here!]

Is this a fanfic or comic I can read?

Right now, all that exists are the little snippet comics and drawings I've made. However! I have a storyline in mind for the AU set roughly 6 years after Deku's birth, and I'm going to try to write it! I'll definitely share it when I'm able.

Will there be other ships in the AU other than BKDK?

Probably! But I haven't given it much thought or focus yet.

Can I cosplay your fairy designs?

ABSOLUTELY!! And please show me because I will cry.

Am I allowed to do fanart/write something for the AU?

OF COURSE!!! Please please share it with me too I'd love to see it! You can also use the tag #MHAPixieHollow !

More TBA as needed.

[serahadmoni]

This. Also not scolding anyone.

Like, I’m in the midst of what will eventually be a pop-ship piece, but my personal proclivities lean heavily into gen. Even what I’m writing now will have way more plotty gen elements than it will straight shippy content. (Sorry BT readers, if that comes as a surprise but I value and want to explore all the relationships, not just the ones where they end up smashing faces…? I was that girl with my Barbies too.)

In general, gen engagement in fandom spaces is low already. If I was courting kudos, I would do something different. Anyway, I digress.

I won’t hide my commentary in tags because I feel like it’s that important. Not that my talking about it does anything in the long run, but I’ve been around awhile. The nature of my life, occupation, and family situation means I tend to dip in and out. Every time a property draws me back to fandom I find the culture changed and usually not for the better. Once upon a time, consumerism was anathema in fandom spaces. Even if you didn’t know how best to express your appreciation for a piece, you tapped the little heart so the author knew you read and enjoyed at the very least. But now…

It’s not the kudo or the comment. Though I love them both. It’s the engagement. Being able to gush about your darlings or the piece you’re working on and build actual community with other writers and readers. To find the tribe who can go on the journey with you. Because, to be frank, if that community engagement and interaction doesn’t exist, I could be (probably should be) spending my time working on my original urban fantasy instead.

If I was desperate for kudos I would not be out here posting villain ships, minor character rarepairs, and other deeply unpopular ships.

I know how to write popular fic. I know how to farm kudos. That's not what I'm here for.

"Readers need to remember that authors don't know a reader liked their fic unless the reader tells them by leaving a kudos or a comment" does not mean "waahhh waahhh I need attention!"

It means "even if writers write purely for themselves, if you don't bother to interact with writers when you do enjoy their work, they might stop posting and just keep their work to themselves."

"If you enjoy a work you should kudos or comment" is not aimed at the people who aren't reading the fanfiction in question.

"If you enjoy a work you should kudos or comment" is not aimed at the people who did not enjoy the fanfiction in question.

"If you enjoy a work you should kudos or comment" is aimed at people who read a fanfiction, enjoyed it, and then didn't bother to even do the bare minimum to share their excitement about it with the work's creator, even though that excitement is literally the only thing they get in return for posting their work.

Fanfiction authors write because they enjoy writing. They post because they want to form a connection with the people who enjoyed their work.

This is not an attempt to scold anyone, I literally don't care if I get kudos or not. It's simply an attempt to remind people that fanfiction is a community, and fan authors can't read your mind.

[realhotgirlshitah]

Luigi getting all guilty from fucking you in front of your army of Jellycats… this is so personal to me

You lie sprawled across your bed, clad in nothing but a silk robe barely clinging to your curves. The soft glow of your bedroom lamp casts warm light over the room, illuminating the collection of Jellycat plushies neatly arranged on your shelves, bed, and nightstand. They’re cute—comforting even—but the man standing at the foot of your bed looks anything but.

Luigi Mangione looms over you, broad and imposing, dark curls slightly disheveled from where you’d been tugging at them earlier. His sharp, knowing smirk tells you exactly what’s about to happen, and the way his gaze flickers over your body, from your bare legs to the inviting dip of your robe, makes your stomach tighten with anticipation.

“You sure about this, principessa?” His voice is low, teasing, edged with something dark.

You roll your eyes, already tired of his cocky attitude. “Just shut up and do it, Mangione.”

His smirk widens, and within seconds, he’s on you. His hands—big, rough, and burning hot against your skin—push your thighs apart as he drags you to the edge of the bed. His lips find your neck, nipping at the sensitive spot just below your ear, making you shudder.

“Impatient little thing,” he murmurs, fingers slipping beneath your robe, tracing over the swell of your breasts before sliding lower.

Your breath hitches as he spreads you open with ease, teasing, taunting, making you squirm. And when he finally, finally gives you what you want, you let out a moan that has his smirk faltering into something darker, hungrier.

“Fuck, you’re dripping already,” he groans, voice thick with lust.

You try to bite back a whimper as he teases you, but you’re too far gone. His fingers curl inside you, slow at first, then quicker, relentless. Your back arches off the bed, and just as you’re about to fall apart, he pulls away, leaving you panting.

You barely have time to protest before he’s flipping you onto your stomach, pressing you into the mattress. His lips brush your ear as he lines himself up, and then—

He slams into you.

A sharp cry escapes your lips, your fingers digging into the sheets as he stretches you open. He doesn’t wait, doesn’t give you time to adjust—he just grips your hips and pounds into you like he owns you.

“You feel so fucking good,” he growls, voice strained, as he thrusts harder, deeper.

Your bed creaks beneath you, and for a moment, your hazy gaze flickers to the plushies sitting on your nightstand, their little beady eyes staring right at you.

Luigi notices.

With a frustrated groan, he reaches out, grabbing the nearest one—a soft, round jellycat frog—and turns it around, then does the same with a stuffed octopus, its little face now facing the wall.

That’s when you start giggling, despite the way he’s currently splitting you open.

“You—oh my God, you’re turning them around?” you manage between moans.

He glares at you, jaw clenching. “I’m not about to have these creepy little things watching me destroy you.”

Your laughter only fuels him. With a growl, he pulls out and flips you onto all fours before slamming back in, harder this time, deeper. His hand cracks against your ass, making you gasp.

“Still wanna laugh, huh?” His voice is pure sin as he grips your waist, snapping his hips forward, burying himself inside you over and over again.

You try to form words, but all that comes out are whimpers and breathless moans.

“That’s what I thought,” he taunts, voice ragged as he fucks you into the mattress.

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixed with the creak of the bed and your breathless cries. He keeps one hand on your hip while the other presses against the small of your back, forcing you down as he drills into you.

“Look at you,” he grunts. “Taking it so fucking well.”

Your walls clench around him, drawing a deep groan from his lips. You’re close—you can feel it, the heat pooling low in your stomach, the pressure building.

Luigi feels it too. His fingers slip between your legs, circling your clit in quick, precise movements.

“Come for me, principessa,” he orders, voice rough. “Now.”

It takes nothing more than a few more thrusts before you fall apart, your body trembling beneath him as pleasure washes over you. Your cries are muffled by the sheets, but Luigi isn’t satisfied just yet. He keeps going, chasing his own release, his grip on your hips tightening.

A few more rough thrusts, and he’s gone, a deep, broken moan leaving his lips as he spills inside you. His forehead presses against your back as he comes down from his high, breathing heavy.

For a long moment, neither of you speak. Then—

“You’re such a loser,” you murmur, still breathless. “Turning my Jellycats around like they’re judging you.”

Luigi groans, flopping onto the bed beside you. “Shut the fuck up.”

You giggle, curling into his side, and even though he pretends to be annoyed, his arm still drapes over your waist, pulling you closer.

A/N: yeah idk what this is lol I was bored and horny with a 15 minute work break, a brand new jellycat on my arm and a dream LMAOOOOOO

[writingwithfolklore]

Avoid Boring Verbs

I would normally call these ‘weak verbs’, though that’s an actual grammar concept and not quite what I’m talking about today (though maybe in the future?) But I find ‘weak’ to be a good descriptor for what I tend to be looking for when I’m looking for boring verbs—stuff like, ‘went’, ‘go/going’, ‘do/doing’, ‘getting’, ‘making’, ‘having’ etc.

In a sentence, it would look like, “Falling rain made the pavement look iridescent”, or “he went to the other side of the store”

They read as boring sentences because we’re wasting the potential of the sentence with a weak, or boring verb. Even a small change like, “he walked to the other side of the store” is a bit more descriptive, or if we want to get deeper into his emotional state, “he drifted to the other side of the store.”

“He started scratching out his homework” conveys an emotion behind an action that is really just ‘doing’, as well as a character’s personality.

“The pavement sparkled iridescent in the falling rain.” Is far more interesting, and doesn’t bog down the reader with a boring verb.

These little changes are opportunities to convey how your character is feeling, who they are, or add a more emotional tie to a description. Is your character someone who takes his time before starting a task and therefore starts “thinking through” his homework? Or is he less careful and starts “scribbling out” his work instead?

If she can take the train would she bike? If she could run, would she walk? There are a million ways someone can ‘go’, so why did your character choose the specific one that they did?

And what draws out a more emotional response, “made” or “sparkled”?

Of course, it’s just as easy to overuse this—we don’t want to start making sentences that sound overly contrived--but consider where in small ways you can demonstrate even more about your characters—and pounce on opportunities to be more descriptive.

[lovebillyhargrove]

Part 2 of this where Steve's unhappy about the new guy, unhappy about the new guy's car and decides to ruffle his feathers a bit

***

Inhale .. exhale.

In .. out.

Smoking calms him down, always has. Thank fuck for cigarettes.

"I gotta find out who it is. And when I do, I'm gonna skin him alive."

That's got to be him. A girl going to all these lengths ..? Piling up snow all around and on top of a car? Losing her beauty sleep for that?

Nah, girls have other ways to drive a guy crazy. That's got to be a dude. A dead man walking cause Billy will fucking end him.

The latest pranks were pretty innocuous. A couple of moronic licence plates, nothing new, nothing too inventive. The damn prankster must have a collection of them at home, which he's showing off.

Having troubles with imagination? Lacking creativity?

Loser.

But then Billy found this plate screwed to the back of his car, and that was it. That was the last drop that turned him into a beast, thirsty for blood.

It kinda hurt his feelings. What, you can't even fathom Hargrove might actually have a couple of those?

Well, you know about his mom and his dad, the story's not special at all, but it's like the bastard took this very word right out of Neil's hate-spewing mouth. It felt like a low blow.

..

And that's why

Billy doesn't sleep at night anymore. Stays wide awake. Catches up on sleep during daytime when Neil's not at home. Parks the camaro so that he can keep an eye on it, out of his window. Can't really skip classes at school, also cause he doesn't want to let the guy feel he's being spied on. Hargrove's waiting for him to come to the car under the cover of darkness, hoping for good luck.

The universe doesn't let him down this time.

One night when he's sitting near his window in the dark, smoking and building his patience up,

Billy finally sees him.

Well well well, lookie what we got here.

He even stops breathing for a few seconds. Then lets out a quiet scoff.

Steve fucking Harrington — crouching, kneeling beside the camaro.

Of course. Of fucking course, how could Billy be so clueless, so blind ..? He didn't think the preppy prick was capable of something like that?

The fallen king. Pretty boy. The fucking babysitter for fuck's sake. So many faces. The night prowler, voilà.

Hargrove's squint is that of a predator.

Steve Harrington, in all his treacherous glory.

Billy has to fight the urge to deal with the motherfucker right then and there. Beat him up till his face is all bloody and he can't walk.

Hargrove's gripping his own thighs bruising himself, eyes glowing with fiery hatred in the inky blackness that surrounds him.

No.

***

If Steve's absolutely honest, he has run out of ideas lately. He knows the game's getting kinda old and lame but .. His brain just refuses to work that well. Especially when he sees Hargrove swaying his annoying ass around, cool as a damn cucumber, and girls following him around like he's hypnotized them. He's still the centre of everyone's attention, no matter what silly inscription Steve's scribbled on that stupidly hot car.

Maybe he should lay off with his little game, at least for a while, until inspiration hits, like it did back in autumn.

Steve finishes breakfast, glances at the clock. School time.

When he comes up to the beamer, his heart starts beating a little faster and blood rushes to his head.

There's black spray paint all over the hood and the windshield

I KNOW

..

Oh shit.

Shit shit shit!

Suddenly he hears the rapidly approaching car engine roar.

SHIT. That's the camaro's rumble. Harrington recognizes the sound in an instant.

The thunder is coming to get him.

Uh-oh. Guess he's gonna be late for school. Saving his ass seems of bigger importance at the moment.

Steve runs back to the house, in sheer panic, locks the door, draws the blinds on the kitchen window. What should he do ..!?

It's Hargrove alright. The psycho almost hits the beamer when he swerves into the driveway. There's nothing normal about the way Billy drives, he does it like a madman. Gets out of the car ..

With a bat.

Not hesitating a single second, swings it, smashing the BMW's left front light, then swings again — the driver's window follows, glass coming down like a sparkly waterfall.

"Come out, Harrington!" The voice sounds almost cordial. "Let's talk."

Yeah, talk. Okay, Steve absolutely didn't think it through when he started the whole thing. In his defence, he got carried away!!

"Come the fuck out, asshole. Let's see who's the mistake here after all." Drawls Hargrove.

Another swift swing, and the second window is down.

Crap, sharp pain stings Billy's elbow. He cuts himself on glass shards through his long sleeve with one careless movement. In all blinding fury he actually forgot to put his jacket on, it's on the front seat.

And yeah, Max had to get to school early today. The shitbird was pouting the whole evening yesterday when he told her

"Tomorrow morning be ready to leave half an hour early. I have to help Mr. McCarthy before the class starts."

The elbow is definitely bleeding, but Billy doesn't feel any pain.

Does he ever feel any pain anymore?

Hargrove leisurely leans on the beamer's side, takes out a pack of Marlboros, lights up

"So are you coming out or what, Harrington? I just wanna talk, no need to be afraid, amigo." The cigarette is irritatingly dangling between his stupid lips. "Let's have a friendly chit-chat, shall we?"

Circles the car like a vulture.

Bang.

There goes the third window.

Is Harrington fucking insane? Billy's going to ruin his fucking car. He has to crawl out of his hiding hole at some point.

He's there. He's right there, peeking out from behind the blinds.

Unbelievable.

"You know I'm not like .. a violent person, Steve. We can settle it like adults. I have receipts for changing the tyre and uh .. repainting the door. Well .. the moral damage that you have caused me is of course uh .. very serious. I wonder how you will pay me for that, but like I said .. I'm open for discussion."

Nah. The coward is not willing to have a constructive dialogue.

Billy swings the bat for the fourth time when all of a sudden the door of Harrington's house is flung wide open and he runs out holding his own bat,

Studded with sharp nails.

His wild eyes gushing horror

"HARGROVE, LOOK OUT !! BEHIND YOU !!"

***

Blood attracts them, don't you ever forget.

***

Wanted Billy to lure Steve to the quarry and almost throw him off the cliff but then went with this instead.

[blackened-angel]

I'm personally not looking forward to the Netflix adaptation of Devil May Cry.

With the new trailers, I wanted to share my opinions again but I will say that this post isn't recommended for those who only have praise and that any criticism is forbidden.

It's a pretty long post where I try to explain what is my main problem with the adaptation and that is the person who is directing it.

I highlighted some parts that I hope you can at least read those ones, but if I were to give you a TL;DR it would be this:

If you want to make an adaptation based on an IP that's been around for a while, even if you proclaim that you're fan, at the very least be modest and try not to cause trouble with your audience, given that you're supposed to be a professional in the industry and perhaps trying desperately to please everyone isn't such a good idea because you might be hanging with the wrong crowd and that will reflect on your image.

Sorry but I'm not interested to coddle that guy so if that brief summary is enough to make you displeased, I'm asking you not to read any further.

So, will talk about why it's difficult for me to praise Netflix Devil May Cry. It's because of the person attached to it.

I've criticized aspects of this adaptation before and while the majority will get angry because the show hasn't come out yet, thus any criticism is invalid, personally, what I have seen so far has been enough for me to have a disdain for it because one of my favorite series is being handled by someone who has never done anything with it before.

Proclaiming to be a fan doesn't automatically mean that it will be a masterpiece and for someone who is allegedly a professional in the industry, their conduct reflects on the product and others that are involved.

Also, just saying, that I refuse to use the word "anime".

Pseudo-anime perhaps but I'm sorry, DMC The Animated Series from 2007, that's the only Devil May Cry anime. I don't see any 'bishounen'/ biseinen' . Have you?

Anime, to someone like me who has been into anime and manga for two decades, is animation produced in Japan, primarily for the Japanese audience, with aesthetic that is different from Western animations.

So yeah I'm just gonna say Netflix DMC.

Ok, so, let's return to the subject, but first, I want to ask you and of course, you can provide examples because from my experience, I haven't seen anime studios acting so desperate like Shankar.

Please tell me if you have seen anime studios on their social media accounts being so friendly with people?

At most, there are some who on some occasions retweet fan creations like art or cosplay but in general they just post information regarding what they are producing, trailers or key visuals, but they don't engage much with the audience.

They are just working on the stuff they want to deliver to their audience, hoping they will enjoy it and look into feedback afterwards.

How many anime studios have you seen bragging like Shankar has been doing?

He actually said on Twitter "I never miss."

Oh and on a few occasions, this grown-ass man kept referring to himself in 3rd person, somehow thinking his fans will find it...cute? Yeah, so it was more like "Adi Shankar never misses."

It's obnoxious. You can tell me that he was joking, but he seems committed to his whole "I never miss with my projects" bit, so it's kind of hard to tell.

Oh and do you think it's also adorable when he reposted people's fanart without crediting? Even when some of them had watermarks?

Like I'm not kidding. If you follow him on Twitter, there were a few times when he was called out for not properly crediting artists and you'd think he'd stop after being told once but no.

In addition to that, one time when I was reading the comments on a reposted artwork, there were only two people that mentioned the artist while the rest of them didn't even ask things like "Hey did you draw this? Did the animation team do it?"

It seemed that even though they must have known it wasn't art made by Shankar or the ones doing the animation, they treated like it was no biggie if he was reposting.

As a professional, allegedly, he should have never done such a thing, but most of his followers seem treat him like "oh he's just enthusiastic, cut him some slack, don't be mean to him".

And we know that in general, anyone else who would do that sort of thing just once would get torn apart by others, but with that guy apparently we must be indulgent.

When caught in the act, he did apologize but like...shouldn't he know better? He most likely expects that everyone will forgive him for anything he does.

Thus, can you understand why I'm having a tough time to like something from that person? Who keeps bragging, promising the best anime ever, acting as if he invented DMC...

That's a person who is supposed to be a professional in the industry, yet he as only been acting like a redditor...And of course he promotes a lot of memes. Gee, I wonder who's the intended audience?

He's been desperately trying to please everyone.

This is why I like the way anime studios conduct their promotion for their projects. They are humble and want to avoid causing problems t and that's why they generally just post information, artwork, trailers etc..

That's something I personally appreciate.

Shankar has only been off-putting...Honestly, what the heck was Capcom thinking?

Apparently he wanted Dino Crisis, but Capcom was like, have DMC instead. It feels like they were saying "yeah do whatever with this IP, doesn't matter", as if DMC isn't popular, which was proven by the popularity poll they hosted.

I feel like this adaptation is mostly for the people that know DMC just from memes and I'm sorry for the long time fans that will most likely get insulted and told to shut up by the people who will only watch this generic Marvel/DC looking animation and be told that DMC is only good because of Shankar or think he should be in charge of other Devil may Cry projects.

So yeah, to me, above all is that narcissistic man who has been trying so hard to please everyone.

No, I don't think it's endearing when he spoke in 3rd person and claims that he never misses with his projects. I did not find it cute when he went on to say stuff like Vergil is a hero and other bullshit, because some people would believe those will actually be the characterizations in the show, only for Shankar to post something like "I'm joking, I'm just a troll" after those kinds of posts, wanting to gain sympathy from people, to see just how much of a fun guy he is and you must definitely watch his DMC "anime".

We already had the reboot that was supposed to appeal to the Western audience because Capcom thought the original series isn't appealing to westerners, but man were they wrong. Still hate it for the fact that they mocked the OG series and here we are again, another production that's mostly for the western audience.

So yeah, I'm just not a fan of how much that man has been boasting and assuring everyone how great the show will be.

Perhaps, for some of you, it will the greatest "anime" ever, he keeps telling you that! But not for me. I don't appreciate the shit I've seen him do on Twitter done and as much as he brags that failure never happens for Adi Shankar, not everyone is of the same opinion.

If it turns out that it might fail the expectations of those who only praised, what then? Will they keep praising despite being disappointed so that the series keeps getting content, even if it might be the same quality or even worse?

I think that will send the message to the bigwigs that those people are willing to consume anything.

Like I've mentioned thought out the post, I personally would have appreciated humbleness instead of someone trying so desperately to please everyone.

I'm not sorry for what I said and I know there must be others who share my opinions.

If you have made it this far, I thank you!

[ask-the-royal-absol]

Something had caught Capital's attention. Something was... off about what they had seen.

Unceremoniously, Capital walked up to Destino, giving them a loud pat on the back. "Hello~ 'Nice seeing you again.'" Capital looked at them. Nothing. They smiled, as though trying to containt laughter, as though trying to hide a secret. "'Playing the role' rather well, are we not?"

Without really waiting for a reply, Capital turned to Champ. They pointed at the Magmar, smiling as sweetly as possible. "I heard you two know each other. Where from, if I may ask? I am sure you both have a lot of stories to tell~"

Champ: Of course we have! Mag and I go way back! Isn't that right!

Felix: Hahaha, yep. Absolutely. 100%.

Champ: We were buds in college and have tried to meet with each other when we can. We were also partners back when we used to join the doubles combat tournament. When we combined our moves together, man that was something. Our kids, his youngest and my only one, both go to the same school. Different year groups, mind you. His royal duties have meant we haven't been able to see each other recently. You wife has done the majority of pick up, hasn't she?

Felix: Yep! Definitely! She is quite the someone.

*Felix was really trying his hardest, but imitating a man he'd never met made him feel so incredibly uncomfortable.*

Viridis: It’s my choice whether my leaves come off though. I'm sure these two have a bunch of history and that's good and all but perhaps we should focus on you deciding to purposefully do that. What's your game? What's your goal?

Champ: Do they always do this? Interrupt?

Hope: That's their speciality. They cannot shut up. They clearly enjoy listening to their voice far too much.

Viridis: I can't help that my voice is incredible. Probably the best voice anyone could ever know. It's taken years to get it this deep. This doesn't just come with age you know. Full on practice. Gonna draw the conversation back before I go on about how absolutely perfect it is. You, talk. I didn’t give you permission to assault me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*The machamp smiled at the two. What interesting Pokémon he’d been seeing today! Clearly this leafeon had some great influence. Perhaps he’d be able to convince them to work for him.*

Champ: Ah! Some new customers! And one that feels they can handle the heat! Don’t worry my friends, I’m sure I’ll be able to whip something up for you both in no time. I think I know just what the two of you will enjoy.

*Champ wheeled himself through the wooden door and got himself to work. The gang looked towards where he headed. They wanted spice? Champ would give them spice alright. He was pretty skilled in the kitchen, working his magic and making some foods truly delectable. Chillis chopped. Sauces made. Cheese melted. These dishes were going to be something. When he assembled the dishes, he knew they looked good. Sure, there was mention of a tender pallet but he knew the sandwich he made would work wonders for it.

As he brought the food out, he placed them in front of the pair with a confident smile on his face.*

Champ: Here you are my friends! Blast Burn Noodles for you. Now I do have to warn you that these, even for those who enjoy spicy foods, are beyond the spice level many can handle. The peppers selected are some of the hottest you’ll find here in Arkaedia, perhaps even in the world. Just be careful with those, alright? If you need milk to help settle the spice, I can certainly provide that but that spice should be able to open up your taste buds to really experience everything that’s going on in that sauce on the noodles.

Champ: And for you, my Lucky Chant sub. Now you might be thinking, “Why is it called that?” It’s a rather long story but it was a dish that came to me when I was in the middle of working on a move for one of the tournaments I used to join in. Inspiration hit me and this sub was born. Now, I know there was mention of a tender pallet. Don’t worry. There’s only the tiniest hint of spice. This mainly focuses on the flavour of the tomatoes in the sauce in combination with the herbs. There should be nice sweetness that comes with it too. It shouldn’t cause any upset and should leave you feeling satisfied. Hope the two of you enjoy!

@masked-vee

(3/4 - Note these two asks are two separate instances so feel free to reply as such if you wish.)

[kaysfanficcorner]

Out of this World Chapter 11: There's No Other Way

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Earthling Reader/OC

Summary: The Mandalorian and The Earthling travel back to Nevarro to ask Greef Karga for a favor. They soon find that they are not the only visitors to Nevarro this time around.

Author's Note: Welcome back to my little corner of the fanfiction realm! This chapter was another fun one to write. Again, I am drawing from the second season of the show while following the plot I have mapped out, so keep that in mind as I continue to somewhat bastardize the cannon events. As always Din is a sweet soft boy, but in this chapter I played around with a fun side of him for a moment. The relationship between these two is so sweet that my teeth are starting to rot. I hope ya'll are here for it as much as I am!

***** = a break in the scene or a switch between character pov.

Mando'a: Ner - my Burc’ya - friend Cyare - beloved Cyar'ika - darling Dush - bad Jate - good Dala - woman Verd - warrior Vor entye - thank you Yooba solus - you are Ni ganar ori'jate bajurad - I have an excellent teacher (roughly translated)

Warnings: SMUT - 🌶️🌶️🌶️ This chapter is the spiciest yet, rough blowjob, rough sex, slightly dom!Din, bratty earthling, dirty talk; FLUFF - I'm telling you, rotten teeth from this shit; the usual cursing; jealousy; lots of feelings; I guess me changing the show's plot around is a warning?

Minors DNI, Strictly 18+

AO3

*****

Once again Din Djarin finds himself making a trip across the vast galaxy to the planet of Nevarro with you by his side. The strange Earthling woman who somehow managed to collect the bounty he hadn't realized was up for grabs on his heart. It's been a few days since the departure from Tatooine. The Razor Crest and her crew are still several days away from their next destination, and life feels good for the small little makeshift family.

Things are back to normal, while also feeling somewhat foreign at the same time. Din's inner turmoil about the child remains the same, at the forefront of his mind, but things between you and himself feel so incredible. So easy. The trust between the two of you feels more solidified, at least from Din's perspective of the relationship. Though he suspects you've been feeling the same way based on how affectionate you've been towards him. It's similar to how things were before Tatooine, only dialed up to a ten.

He assumes it has something to do with the subject of marriage being brought up, and the good conversation that had spurred between the two of you because of it. It's still wild to him that it's even a conversation that's been had already. When Din really stops to think about it, back on his beloved Razor Crest where he can think clearly, he's glad that the subject was addressed so soon. If you were to wake up tomorrow and tell him you wanted to end things, Din would be heartbroken but he would know that it is your right to do so at any time. That fact had been a possibility in the back of his head so much at the beginning of this, especially when he thought you may still want to return to Earth one day. But to know that you want him enough to consider being his wife in the future, that makes things feel different for him. To Din, since that conversation you've felt more like his wife than anything else he can think to label you.

Maker, what did he do to deserve the devoted love of another person like this? Did saving the kid right every wrong he's ever committed? In all his years Din would have never guessed this for his future. Especially since he'd written off the idea of ever being truly with someone in this way so long ago. Even as a young man who'd perhaps wanted this sort of thing with another at one time, he'd never imagined that it could feel like this. It's so peaceful, in a way that continues to surprise him the longer it lingers within his chest. That peaceful contentment fills Din Djarin's body with a new kind of warmth which sinks all the way down into his once weary bones, making him feel more and more like a new man each day.

Currently dressed in very casual clothing he does not wear very often, he's attempting to feel completely relaxed without the several pounds of beskar that usually adorns his person. Being without his armor used to make him feel the opposite of relaxed, so he's trying his best to maintain a calm mind in spite of his instincts to fidget uncomfortably. Ever since you came into his life he seems to find himself without armor more and more. He's in a plain dark short sleeved tunic, a light pair of dark pants, and nothing else save for the helmet.

Din is seated in front of you while you direct him through the various yoga poses you're attempting to teach him. This isn't the first time you've shown him how to do this Earth exercise, but this is the first time Din is taking the learning of it completely seriously. It was his idea, wanting to share in more of your life with you while discovering a new way to move his body. He figured it would be good for him. He also figured that giving you a chance to be his instructor for once may be a fun change of pace for you, considering how increasingly vigorous his Mandalorian teachings have been over the last few days. After Berav, Din realized you were ready to handle much more than what he was throwing at you before. He's no longer scared to push you too far, trusting that you will tell him when or if you've had enough. And so if you're going to follow his lessons with reverence, it's only natural that he does the same in return.

He's definitely not as flexible as you are, so some of the poses are difficult for him to grasp at first. You're doing a very good job of explaining how his body should feel in each pose, which eventually helps him to improve his form. What doesn't help is the fact that you are completely distracting when you gracefully bend and shape your body with ease. You're wearing those black yoga pants from Earth and your cropped black sweater from Nar Shaddaa, the dark purple under garment covering your breasts revealing itself to him every time you do an upside down v pose you call 'downward facing dog'.

The names of these poses all sound so utterly ridiculous, but he's given up on trying to make any sense of them as he attempts to concentrate on your instructions. For reasons that elude him, focusing feels especially difficult today. Din thinks that he finally understands how you've felt in the past when watching his body move during training would cause you to become so easily distracted. He is completely preoccupied by you. Your body looks so strong to him as it easily flows through the moves. That little peek of your bra and the swell of your breasts were the problem at first, but as you move in various different forward folds with your legs straightened out in front of you, the rest of your body soon joins in on his misplaced focus.

Din's sitting paralleled to your left, his own legs stretched before him as he attempts to fold forward the same way. There is a gap of about three feet between the two of you, and he can't help but marvel at how much shorter your legs are than his. How much daintier your feet are. Din's eyes keep flicking to those small bare feet, the toenails painted that shimmery black varnish from Earth that somehow hasn't run out yet. Fuck, he could really use to kiss the soft soles and work his way slowly up from the toes to the bony ankles to the plump calves, all the way up the thick thighs to the delicious prize that lies between them.

Shit. He's already getting a little hard just thinking about it.

“Hey, Chrome Dome, are you listening to me over there?” You say this with an amused look on your face, which is staring at him from its odd position on the ground. You're folded so completely in half over your one bent leg that your torso is pressed all the way to the floor, and you're clearly at least a pose or two ahead of where Din left off. “You know, if you crane your neck like that too much in these poses you'll hurt yourself.”

Slowly pulling his abdomen in, he rolls his spine to sit back up with the proper form you've strictly instructed him to use when coming out of these folds. Din moves to a comfortable seated position facing you, a loud sigh escaping him with a hiss through his modulator as he shakes his head. “Now I know how it feels to be you, getting distracted during training.”

“I don't do that nearly as often anymore,” you say, moving slowly to reposition yourself to a seated position as well. Your feet are flat on the floor and your knees are drawn in towards you a little, hands also flat on the floor behind your back to prop you up. A haughty little smirk crosses your features as you take on that awful accent you do from time to time when you're being intentionally funny. “Did I,” you say your name, gesturing to yourself, “manage to distract the galaxy's fiercest Mandalorian warrior with my unbelievably desirable body and witty charm? Oh my, is that a big bulge in his pants I see? All because of little old me? I do declare!”

“Mm, it's because of you alright. And I had a mind to give it to you nicely, but now you're just acting like a brat,” Din says, head tilting to the side as he mulls over the impulse he's feeling in his gut. Your little routine was indeed funny to him, but the ache of desire stirring in his core wants to guide this in a very particular direction. “I think I may need to put you in your place for that, ner dush cyar'ika.”

A lustful look crosses your features and Din feels pleased with himself for causing it. That's the look you get when he knows you'll do practically anything for a taste of his cock. Din truly loves it so much, the way you can transform into a hungry little heathen at a moment's notice. He enjoys the lascivious desperation in your eyes when you mewl, begging for him to take you in that whining wanton voice you use only for him in the most private of moments. Suddenly he's ready to make those noises emerge from your delicate throat once again, and it's all he can do not to lunge forward to rip the clothes from your body.

Instead he decides to play a little more, “What's the matter, love? Nothing to say now?”

Shaking your head, you look right into the visor at his hidden eyes. Then your legs part a few inches, exposing your clothed mound to him. Perhaps it's on purpose, but more than likely Din thinks it's involuntary. He can tell your body is already reacting to him and he hasn't even touched you yet. Having this effect on you is so intoxicating.

“Come on,” he begins to crawl forward, “you speak more than anyone I've ever met. There's got to be something you can think of to say. Where's that bratty fucking mouth of yours now, huh?”

Your eyes suddenly glance anxiously to the ceiling, expression shifting as you look at him seriously. “You think the kid will stay asleep upstairs?”

Din's tone easily slips back into the softer one he uses normally, his body softening a little. “I'd say we've got about an hour.”

Nodding, you've suddenly returned to that concupiscent countenance and your own tone finds its way back to the bratty one you'd used a moment ago. “And just how does a big strong Mandalorian put a little Earthling brat in her place anyway? Especially without all of his fancy accouterments?”

Din growls, voice becoming slightly domineering again, “What does that word mean?”

You grin, the look of it completely prideful. “It's from a country on my world called France. It means additional equipment used for a particular activity. So without all your fancy Mando gear, I mean. The handcuffs would be a nice accouterment right about now. Yeah that might just be enough to put me in my place. But I dunno, I am feeling pretty bratty today.”

There it is. That's the thing Din needed to send him over the edge.

*****

Din descends on you so quickly that you're completely taken off guard when he's right in front of you and his swollen cock is suddenly in your face, the engorged tip of it emerging from the soft foreskin. You hadn't even seen him unfasten his pants let alone stand up. His left hand is wrapped around the base, positioning himself right in front of your eyes. You look up at him, the sight of his beskar helmet tilted down to look at you enough to make the heat between your legs become a full fledged fire.

“Up on your knees. I thought of a better use for that mouth,” he says down to you with that commanding tone he uses from time to time, the thumb of his right hand tracing your bottom lip while he cradles your chin as you comply.

Even with the rough rouse he's putting on, the way Din touches your face is so deliberately gentle and loving. It feels so good to trust him this much, to know that he's being this way with you and at the end of the day it all still just stems from a place of deep love and friendship. The two of you may not have been sleeping together for that long, but you've learned enough about what makes him tick to know that this is just a kinky little act. You like rough sex sprinkled in with passionate emotional sex, and so does he. But neither of you have any intention of ever hurting the other physically or emotionally. It's all in good fun, and if it ever were to not feel fun you know he would stop and vice versa.

And right now? This feels fucking fun. With Din you're able to play in a way that you haven't played with anyone, and you know in your heart of hearts that he's the playmate you've always hoped for. The one you can easily see yourself doing kinky shit with for the rest of your weird life.

Parting your lips, you grin as his thumb enters your mouth, pressing down onto your tongue while you suckle the appendage gently. When he removes the thumb and leans forward some, the hairs on the back of your neck stand up in anticipation.

“You ready to be a good girl for me or are you still feeling like a fucking brat?” Din asks, his voice working you over with how sexy it sounds when he's like this.

“Can't I be both?” You ask not-so-innocently, your tongue snaking out from between your teeth to flick at the precum leaking from him.

Then his free hand finds your hair, longer now by a few months and easier for him to yank at. Imagining him holding on to a ponytail in a similar fashion makes you wish it would grow out that much faster. So yank he does, pulling enough to cause a dull bit of pain but not enough to really hurt you. You gasp at the shock of it, and when your lips part even more he uses the opportunity to guide himself into your open mouth.

Working him with your mouth doesn't even feel possible, not when Din is fucking your face more than he ever has before. Your hands fly to his strong thighs to steady yourself as he holds your head, thrusting his length down your throat as far as it can go without making you gag too harshly. The girth of him doesn't help much either, causing you to have to open as widely as you can to take him all the way in. All the way isn't even the whole thing. There's about an inch and a half between your lips and the base. It feels like a complete mystery as to how the whole thing fits inside you without tearing you open each time.

Gagging and drooling, you take as much of his relentless bucking as you can until he suddenly stops and holds himself down your throat for a good long moment. Tears begin to well in your eyes from the lack of steady air and the slight pain of it, but just as you think you need to beg him to stop he lays off. He's sliding himself slowly out of your mouth, so you're sure to apply a light amount of pressure to aid his pleasure as he exits. The whining groan that escapes him makes you feel so proud.

That hand in your hair yanks again, gently this time. This one is meant to coax you into looking up at him. When your wet eyes meet the visor you feel as if you can hear him grinning from the other side of the beskar before he even speaks.

“How about now, ner cyar'ika? Good girl or brat? I'd choose wisely if I were you.”

A part of you wants to say 'brat' to really test the limits of this new semi-dominant side of Din he's showing you today, but the ache between your legs has become too great to ignore. If he doesn't touch you soon the pressure of it may actually break you. Relief is the only thing motivating you now.

“Good girl,” you breathe, squirming against his touch.

“Good answer,” he replies, pushing you over to bend at the waist. Thank fuck you put the padding down for your knees before yoga.

Propping yourself up on your forearms with your hips lifted, ass facing Din, a sharp feeling electrifies your body when you feel a hand brush the sensitive flesh between your legs. It causes you to shudder and moan, which in turn causes Din to laugh from behind you. He's not mocking you, he's simply just amused. You're pretty sure at this point that Din Djarin would never mock you for anything.

“Over the clothes and she's practically ready to cum on the spot,” he says through a hearty, rumbling chuckle. “Remember when you were afraid you'd never get to do that? Aren't you so grateful that I make you cum whenever you want now?”

“Yes, Din. So grateful,” you moan between words, the pressure of his fingertips increasing around your steadily swelling clit.

“Let's see just how grateful she is, then,” he replies.

His hands are at the waist of your yoga pants, tugging the fabric over the swell of your ass and stopping halfway down your thighs. You'd foregone underwear so the maneuver feels swift. When two of his fingers enter your warm and welcoming entrance without warning, a loud gasp fills your lungs.

“That's it, cyar'ika, need to get you ready for me.” Din coos, his voice sounding so lovely. “Mm. Very wet today. Perhaps I was not the only one watching the other with lustful eyes. Were you watching me, cyar'ika? Is all this for me?”

“Of course it's for you. How can you expect me to not feel constantly horny around you?” You ask in a sassy tone, looking back at him a little as you pout. “That's just not fair.”

“Is that complaining I hear?” He smacks your ass with his free hand, another sharp gasp escaping you. “What happened to being a good girl, huh? Ner jate dala?”

“I am a good girl,” you whine, pouting even more. He slaps it again and you yelp.

“I'm not convinced. Still needs to be put in her place, I think,” Din grumbles, positioning his cock at your entrance.

When he slides all the way in and a loud moan escapes your lips at the combined pain and pleasure of it, his hand comes around your head to cover your mouth. His palm stifles your cries until they subside and it suddenly slides to the back of your head, fingers once again gripping the tuft of hair. The hand really begins to yank, a little harder than before, and you're forced to arch your back to relieve a little bit of the ache.

Din's cock is pressing painfully into your cervix and he's leaning his head down to speak directly into your ear. God it's so hard to focus when there are so many different feelings assaulting your nerve endings. The hiss of his modulator causes goose-flesh to pepper the skin of your neck and arms.

“I'm going to make one thing perfectly clear and I need to make sure you're listening. Are you listening, love? I know it's hard when I'm buried inside your perfect tight little cunt like this, but I need you to try for me.”

Barely able to think straight, you really have to force yourself to say the word 'yes' in a gooey voice.

A smack to your ass and he's asking, “Yes, what? Need to make sure you're paying attention.”

“Yes, Din,” you hiss his name, breathing heavily as you try in vain to wiggle around into a more comfortable position. It's an impossible task, the grip he has on your hair and his length fastened deep inside of you keeping you glued in place. “I'm paying attention, I swear. Tell me, Din. Please.”

“Good, cyare. Now hear me when I say this: My cock is the only accouterment you'll ever fucking need. Do I make myself clear?”

The sound of his voice and the nature of the words coming out of his mouth are enough to make you feel close to the edge already, like a few pumps of his cock and finger strokes to your throbbing clit will be all it takes to make you crest over into orgasm.

“Yes, Din, yes! Crystal clear! I understand!”

Without another word he begins fucking you so hard that all you can do is stay in the position he's trapped you in and allow your body to get lost in the ecstasy of it.

*****

A few hours later Din is working out the tight muscles of your hamstrings while you lay on the same mat that was rolled out for the short-lived yoga session. After the training he's been putting you through for the last couple of days and the fucking of your life he just gave you, your body is in desperate need of some deep rest and relaxation.

Din's natural sense of what you need from him is so wild to you sometimes. Without needing the concept of 'after-care' explained to him, your cosmic companion made quick work of ensuring that you felt completely safe and secure once the both of you reached satisfying climaxes. He'd been rougher and more domineering than he's been with you up to this point, and somehow he just understood that you would require some extra soft attention from him in the aftermath of such an encounter.

And so he'd held you and said all of the loving things he could think to say, stroking your hair all the while. After he checked on both the ship and the kid, he made the two of you a cup of tea which you drank sitting back to back. Now he's giving you a massage to soothe the muscles he's been causing you to strain for days on end, all the while recounting stories from his younger days. He told you several days ago that the past has been on his mind, specifically the time he spent learning the Way of the Mandalore from his mentor as a kid. Naturally you've been encouraging him to share whatever memories he feels comfortable sharing.

The kid is awake from his nap at this point, happily hanging out with his two foster parents and his favorite feline friend while some soft music plays in the background from Din's little L0 device. It's instrumental, from one of the many film scores in your music library. Din seems to like those quite a bit, much to your enjoyment. Now that he has his own device it's been interesting to listen to your music from the perspective of it being Din's library as well.

It feels so incredibly good to be here in this moment. In your metal home, floating through outer space with the ones you love so dearly that it hurts sometimes.

Jupiter is chasing the new toy that you and Green Bean made for her during the stay on Tatooine. Improvised with spare junk you'd found in a pile back at Hangar 3-5, it's the equivalent to those fishing rod toys from back on Earth. A metal rod with a strong piece of thin cord attached to one end, and a frilly thing made of coiled wires and scraps of fabric on the other. You've been showing him how to tease her with it over the last few days, slowly running it along the floor to encourage her pounce. Only to quickly jerk the toy away at the last second, driving her mad for a chance to pounce again.

The kid is trying to do it the way you showed him, the movement of it awkward considering how small he is. But he's getting the hang of it, and when he successfully yanks it away at the last second the little cheer of triumph he makes causes Din to chuckle warmly at him from where he sits behind and to your side.

“Great job, kid! You really got her that time,” he says, all the while still rubbing the tender knots of your tight thighs.

You really have to hold back moans of pain when he hits sensitive areas. Even in the midst of feeling like your muscles are being split in two, though, you still manage to throw the kid a genuine smile. “Yeah, buddy! You're doing great with that thing. Just like I taught you.”

Din's hands halt their movements for longer a second, a strained little noise erupting from him. The sound of it alarms you enough to look back at him.

“Are you okay, Din?”

“Yeah, just feeling a lot,” he says, looking down at you with tight shoulders.

That odd sense that you can feel him judging himself comes back to you. It's been happening quite a bit since Tatooine. He'll say something and, depending on the context, it'll come off like he's second guessing himself. It's mildly concerning, but you trust him to come to whatever conclusions he needs to in due time. Until then, you just make sure to remind him, “I'm here for you, ner verd.”

“Likewise, cyare.”

*****

“Ah, my sweet Nevarro. So good to be back.”

Din observes you say this happily to yourself from where he's standing both beside and a little behind you. You're seated in the pilot's seat, hands confidently maneuvering the ship through the planet's atmosphere as you bring her in for a landing in the docking area outside of the city gates. Surprisingly there are a few ships, more than usual, also docked on Nevarro today, but you land far enough away from the rest to give space. You've gotten a lot better at flying the ship, just as you've gotten better at so many things in this new life you've chosen to live by his side.

“Excellent landing, love,” Din praises, watching as you power down all the flight systems correctly before standing to face him.

With a respectful bow of the head you say in Mando'a, “Vor entye, ner burc'ya. I learned from the best. Ni ganar ori'jate bajurad.”

Both impressed and endeared, Din melts a little into his words, “Mm, and don't you forget it.”

You shoot him an attractively playful look, causing Din's heart to flutter a little at the sight of it. “Gather the kid so we can go see our friends and help my grandfather,” you order, tone light.

“Yes, ma'am,” he nods dutifully. Din regards you both seriously and fondly beneath his helmet as he adds, “and might I say, your Mando'a is sounding better and better with each day that passes.”

“I feel like my accent is awful,” you respond bashfully, eyes flicking away from his unseen gaze.

Din reaches forward, a gloved hand gently caressing your cheek as he guides you to look at him again. When your big eyes meet his visor he feels the sudden urge to tell you that he loves you, and so he does. He doesn't wait for you to say it back before continuing on, “The quality of your accent makes no difference to me. I am grateful that you are trying. Speaking Mando'a is not something that I need from you, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”

Smiling up at him, your voice takes on a soft tone of affection. “It's nice to communicate with you in the language of your people. Plus it feels like it's our private way of communicating. I guess if we do find another Mandalorian it wouldn't be private, but you get what I mean. I've also never made myself learn another language like this. I took a few classes on other Earth dialects when I was younger but I can't really speak much of it now. Feels good to actually take this seriously.”

Din nods in understanding, “When I was first learning to speak Mando'a my accent wasn't good either. As I've told you, it is not my native tongue. But knowing Mando'a and many other dialects is essential for a Mandalorian to navigate the galaxy efficiently.”

“Once I get Mando'a down, we can see about learning others,” you say with a little chuckle. “One thing at a time, please.”

“Of course. By the way, I wanted to ask you something,” Din says with an excited tone that immediately catches your attention. Your eyes seem to light up at him.

“What's that, Chrome Dome?”

“What do you think about renting a room at the Inn again? At least for a night or two? We're running low on funds but I can see how good my credit is with Karga. Perhaps something can be worked out.”

Din adores your little squeal of delight and the brightness of your features as you leap forward to throw your arms around his waist. It knocks him backwards a step and he takes a moment to readjust before hugging you back, arms circling you as you nuzzle lovingly into his chest plate. He chuckles when you let out a long happy sounding sigh and say, “A real bed.”

*****

Upon exiting the Space RV with your cosmic companion and alien foster child in tow, you see that your first true friend in this galaxy is standing at the base of the ramp waiting to receive your party. She looks formidable as ever, arm muscles on display in the short sleeved tunic under her armor. You can't help but feel that she's put extra care into her appearance today, but you also can't put your finger on what exactly seems to be different about her to begin with.

“Hi, Cara,” you say happily, rushing forward to greet your friend with a strong hug.

“Hey, stranger,” she greets in return, embracing you fondly. Then her hands find your biceps, squeezing them with a look of approval on her features. “Whoa there, those feel like they've gotten bigger.”

Shrugging, you beam and jab a thumb in Din's direction beside you where he stands holding the kid. “Mando's training has been really paying off. I'm definitely a lot stronger than I was the last time you saw me, but still nowhere near you Ms. Bad-ass.”

Cara grins, “At this rate you'll look like me in no time.” Then she turns her attention to the Mandalorian companion you've chosen to travel the galaxy with. “Mando,” she nods and he returns it, “I am glad to see that you've kept up with her training. I take it she's improved?”

Din's voice sounds so fond as he speaks of you, causing your heart to swell for him. “You should see her in action,” he says, “Certainly an improvement from our last visit. Are you still enjoying your position as Marshal of Nevarro?”

Cara nods, but squints at Din with a tight-lipped frown. “I am, but cleaning this place up by myself is getting old. Just the other day I had to take care of some ne'er-do-wells hanging around in the caves your old Mando group lived in. Could sure use a deputy if you're looking for a long-term job around here. It's going to be awhile before seedy types take the hint that they are no longer welcome on this planet.”

“I appreciate the offer, but a job is not why we have come,” Din replies, looking at you.

You interject, “We need a favor from Greef, and we have a lot to fill you in on.”

“Then let us see if the busy High Magistrate will grant us an audience,” Cara says somewhat sarcastically, motioning for you and Din to follow.

*****

“Mando!” Greef Karga greets in that booming bass of his as your party enters his new and quite large office. You always liked the way the older man greets your cosmic companion with the same enthusiasm each time. The office is not what you were expecting and not what his office was like the last time you had been on this planet. It's an impressive room, impeccably decorated for someone of high stature to show off said stature a little. The open door to the balcony overlooking the city provides you with a glimpse of a beautiful view, and Nevarro looks so pretty to you in that short moment.

“Greef,” Din says with a respectful nod, moving to shake the man's hand. “Good to see you.”

“Likewise, my friend.” Greef turns his attention to you, smiling kindly. “And you, my dear, are lovely as ever. It seems like life with Mando and the little one here is treating you well after all?”

The kid coos up at the old man from your arms, causing you to smile down at him before sending a knowing glance Din's way. Then you turn your attention back to Karga, returning the warmth of his smile with one of your own. Taking in his appearance, you can tell that this new official position has been good for him. He seems happy, and enthusiastic as ever in his red ceremonial robes and fancy looking adornments. You may not know much about local governments in this galaxy but you understand enough to know that this outfit must come with the job. When you first landed on Nevarro and met Greef Karga, he had told you of his great plans for his beloved planet. You're happy to see that dream come to life for him. The city looked so clean and picturesque as Cara had led you to the new government building, even nicer than it had been during the festival of lights a few months back.

Bowing your head, you say, “I can't thank you enough for encouraging this arrangement, Greef. Life with my boys has indeed been treating me well, but not as well as Magistrate life seems to be treating you. Look at this office, look at that fancy uniform! Well done.”

Looking away almost bashfully, you can tell that Greef adores his new position as what is essentially the city mayor but is trying desperately to remain humble about it. “The people of Nevarro are happy, and that's all I care about. Besides, Marshal Dune gets to have all the fun cleaning this place up from miscreants who haven't gotten the memo that Nevarro is off-limits. I, on the other hand, am drowning in paperwork.”

Cara sends a pointed look Greef's way, crossing her arms over her chest with a tilt of the head. “And my job doesn't have any paperwork? There's more to it than beating up scoundrels.”

“So, what is it I can do for you?” Greef asks, laughing a little at Cara as he speaks to you and Din. “Have the two of you finally decided to settle down here? Nevarro would love to have you.”

You sit the kid down on the gray leather chair at Greef's desk, moving so that the group of adults are all facing each other. “Well we actually came here to ask you for a favor. It pertains to something dear to me.”

“Go on,” he urges you, eyebrows raising with curiosity.

And so both you and Din assist one another in the recounting of everything that lead to your return to the lava planet. You describe the resurgence of your grandfather, much to the shock of both Cara and Greef. Din describes the bounty hunters to Karga and the ex-guild member knows exactly who Din is talking about when Berav's name gets dropped. Then you ask him if there is anything that can be done to make the bounty on your grandfather go away. Greef explains that there is one person who he thinks may be able to help, someone who owes the High Magistrate a favor he has yet to cash in. Hope rises in your chest at that.

“Let me make a few calls and see what I can do,” Greef says with a reassuring hand to your shoulder.

“Thank you,” you say, giving the man a small hug.

“I can't believe your grandfather was here the whole time,” Cara marvels, head shaking.

“Neither can I,” you say with a curt laugh.

Din walks over to the kid, who has been using his ability to spin Greef's office chair for the last minute and a half straight. He stops the chair and the kid begins to wobble uneasily. “That's enough, buddy,” Din lightly commands in a parental tone. Then he turns his attention to the adults again, specifically Greef. “We wanted to stay at the inn tonight but things are getting tight without any bounties. What's my credit like around here?”

“I will arrange for the three of you to have a room, on the office of the Magistrate's tab. Stay for a few nights if it suits you to do so,” Karga offers with a nod. “But if you're in need of credits to further your journey along, Marshal Dune and I have a proposition of our own to present you with and we'd be willing to pay.”

“I'm listening,” Din says expectantly.

Cara takes a step forward, looking directly at Din. “I think that there's someone you ought to meet before we explain. We've had some very interesting visitors these last few days, visitors I think you specifically will want to speak with, Mando.”

*****

Carasynthia Dune leads the group back out to the docking bay outside of town, much to the surprise of the Mandalorian. Din's not sure what or whom to expect. Cara had acted oddly when she mentioned strangers that Din 'ought to meet', and he's felt suspicious about whatever this is since she brought it up.

Upon entering the docking bay, Din notices the other ships scattered around the Razor Crest more than he had bothered to before. Among various ships of all shapes and sizes, he notices a formidable Gauntlet starfighter in the crowd. That one catches his attention. It's not a model often seen these days, the rotating wings of it standing up like the wings of some great bird.

Of course, this is the ship that Cara happens to be leading them to. With you holding the kid as you walk beside him, he reaches out to brush your arm a little.

You look over to him with a puzzled expression, most likely surprised by his outward display of affection in such a public place. “Everything okay, Chrome Dome?”

“Thinking about sleeping in a real bed tonight,” Din confirms, smiling warmly. “Hopefully whatever this is won't take long.”

“Hopefully. As soon as my body hits that mattress I'm going to sleep for ten hours straight. At least.” You reply with a dreamy sigh, looking down to the child with a warm grin of your own. “And I know you will try to wake me up but it'll be no use. I'll just be too comfortable.”

Din laughs, “Ah, but if I tempt you with those sweet breakfast cakes from the restaurant I think you'll rise quite easily. I may even pick them up while you're sleeping just to make it that much easier.”

“I can't believe you would use my love of Nevarro pancakes against me. That's cruel, Mando. Truly cruel.” As you say this, you shove at his shoulder with your free hand before placing it to your heart, making a hurt facial expression.

Din's hearty chuckles are followed by a shake of the head as they near the ship.

“We're here,” Cara says, looking back to the two of you with a smirk.

When Din looks up and sees three Mandalorians walking towards him, his heart nearly stops beating from the shock of it. All three are in similar blue and gray colors but have armor that is unique to each wearer. Two of them appear to be female, one of which appears to be the leader.

He vaguely hears your voice somewhere to his right saying, “Cara, what is going on here?”

“Marshal Dune. High Magistrate Karga.” The apparent leader greets Din's two friends with a respectful nod. “And who do we have here?” She turns to address Din, “Greetings, brother. It is good to see beskar this far out on the rim.”

“You are truly Mandalorians?” Din asks skeptically, and the way you look at him lets him know that the surprise must be evident in his voice.

“In his defense the last couple of people we met in beskar weren't really Mandos,” you interject, looking at Din as if to say that you're trying to be helpful.

“We are as Mandalorian as they come,” the leader says, just as she proceeds to remove her helmet. The other two remove theirs as well, revealing three unique faces to him.

“You show your faces,” Din practically snarls, “you are not Mandalorian. Where did you get that armor?”

The leader, a woman with red hair pulled back in a headband, lets out a great sigh as her face drops into a frown of disappointment. With the helmet cradled under her right arm, the leader's eyes narrow at Din as she coolly states, “This armor has been in my family for three generations.”

The male of her group, a plain looking man with dark hair looks at Din with disgust as he says, “He's one of them!”

The second female of the group, a younger woman with darker skin and braided hair glares at him as she curses, “Dank farrik!”

“I am so confused,” you mutter angrily beside Din, sending sharp glares of your own back at them as you place half of yourself in front of him protectively. He does not move to stop you, feeling both surprised and moved by how fiercely you are ready to defend him. “What do you mean 'he's one of them?' Just who the hell are you?”

The redheaded woman gives you a look up and down with a raised eyebrow, saying fiercely, “I am Lady Bo-Katan of Clan Kryze. I was born on Mandalore and fought in the purge. I am the last of my line.” Bo-Katan turns her attention swiftly on Din, “You were raised by a cult of religious zealots. Your people broke away from mainstream Mandalorian society and their goal was to re-establish the ancient way.”

Din feels heat rise to his face, and angry blush finding him as his temper also rises. Mainstream Mandalorian society? Religious zealots? What lies are these strangers trying to poison him with?

“There is only one Way. The Way of the Mandalore.” Din says curtly, motioning to you that it is time to leave before spinning on his heel to walk away from the offending impostors.

Cara and Greef look at each other with worried expressions for a moment before Greef reaches out to stop Din from passing by with a hand to his right pauldron, his palm resting over the mudhorn skull. The look he fixes Din with is grave. “Mando, you stubborn bastard. Can you at least hear us out on the matter we need help with? Having all your skills combined is just the kind of manpower I need to get rid of the last Empire base here on Nevarro. I know you care about this planet just as much as I do, Mando. I want my planet to be free of old oppressors and unsavory scoundrels once and for all, dammit. Give me that and I will not only doubly ensure the safety of her grandfather but I will once again offer you permanent residency and citizenship here on Nevarro if you ever wish to stay here.”

Din takes in the seriousness of Greef Karga's expression and realizes that this must be more dire than anyone was letting on. “There's an Empire base still active here on Nevarro? How long have you known about this?”

Cara steps forward to interject, “The base seemed abandoned for a while, but lately I've been picking up on unusual activity out that way. Unusual activity for an unpopulated area with high lava tides being any activity that is,” she adds a little sarcastically.

Din turns back sharply to face the group of 'Mandalorians' again, looking at Bo-Katan as he addresses them. “And what do you get out of this? It does not seem to me that you're simply here to assist from a sense of creed.”

Bo-Katan replies in that same serious tone she'd used before. “There are two reasons that the base is precious to me. The Empire's remnants are in possession of weapons bought and sold with the plunders of Mandalore. We are on a quest across the outer rim to collect these weapons and ships to aid us in the retaking of our homeworld. I intend to unite our people again and for a new Mand'alor to take the throne.”

Din openly and loudly scoffs, shaking his head, “The planet is cursed. Everyone who goes there dies. If you were truly born there you should know that better than anyone.”

The look on Bo-Katan's face becomes icy as she replies, “I do know that better than anyone. But do not believe everything you hear. Our enemies want us separated because they know that Mandalorians are stronger together.”

“What is the second reason?” You ask from Din's side, eyeing the woman with a look Din cannot place.

Bo-Katan eyes you back and continues, “I have been hunting an Empire officer named Moff Gideon. He has something that belongs to me. I intend to kill him and take it back.”

Din feels himself turn white, gasping at the sound of the name. “Gideon is alive?! Gideon is here?!”

Bo-Katan shakes her head, “No, he is not here on Nevarro. But I believe the next clue as to his whereabouts lies within the walls of that base.”

Din feels your hand on his forearm, pulling him to reality a little bit with your voice as well. “Mando, do you think that Gideon guy knows that the kid is alive?”

“I do not know, but we need to find out.” Din says, patting the kid on the head protectively from where he is perched in your arms. “Don't worry, buddy. We're gonna protect you.”

Bo-Katan's female crew member looks at the child with a raised brow. “What would Moff Gideon want with a small child?”

Din replies cryptically and evenly, not trusting of these strangers. “He was hunting the kid last year, and that's all that matters.”

Just as Din says this, someone from town comes running towards the group across the docking bay, shouting for Marshal Dune and Magistrate Karga to come quickly.

*****

You're so taken aback by everything that just happened with Din and the other Mandos that nothing really registers for you until people are shouting and once again weapons are being drawn all around you. Looking around to finally take in your surroundings, you see that you're in front of the school you once worked at and a group of rough looking aliens seem to be causing trouble. One with a bunch of spikes all over his face and what sounds, to only you obviously, like an off-brand British accent seems to be the one causing the most trouble. The alien threatens Greef and demands to be served an alcoholic beverage, which is when Din intervenes looking sexy as ever as he takes charge of the situation. You swear that the sun is shining just on him for a second as he addresses the group of galactic troublemakers, the glint on his silver beskar both blinding and beautiful at the same time.

It's actually laughable how quickly this fight is over with Din Djarin, Cara Dune, and a group of rogue Mandalorian warriors up against a handful of dopey pirates. You stand there holding the kid in one arm and a blaster in your opposite hand, but a need to fire it never comes.

Just as it had been with Cobb Vanth and Boba Fett, Din and the Mandalorian woman Bo-Katan seem to be more civil after fighting alongside each other in battle, albeit a very small one. The other two seem to openly not care for Din, but Bo seems to mean what she says about thinking that Mandalorians are stronger together. Though she does not agree with Din's religious beliefs when it comes to wearing the helmet at one's discretion, she is not being as disrespectful about it as the other two are.

That is the most wild revelation of all. The possibility that there could be two ways of Mandalorian life and that Din was both not privy to, and doesn't believe in the one that would allow you to see his face. Nothing about this changes how you feel about him or his helmet, and you hope to convey that to him later if he needs reassurance. But the fact remains that this changes things, and you wonder how Din is feeling about this under all that beskar of his.

Right now he sits across from you at the restaurant where you've sat across from one another many times at this point. The child is in your arms, wiggling around as he waits for his food to come. Normally you'd be talking to the kid more but right now you're listening to the plan to take down this Empire base. There's a blue alien at the table whom you met once when you lived on Nevarro for that first month or so after the incident which brought you here. The only thing you know about him is that he's Karga's bookkeeper. He's at one end seat while the dude Mandalorian, Axe his name is, sits at the other. Cara sits next to you with Greef Karga on your other side. Across the table from you, Bo-Katan and her associate Koska Reeves are seated on either side of your cosmic companion.

You can't even figure out how the seating arrangements ended up this way, they just did. Suddenly everyone was just sitting. Looking at the sight before your eyes of two Mandalorian women seated to the left and right of your Mandalorian makes you feel insanely jealous for a moment. Luckily, for Din's sake, he looks so utterly miserable and you do not need to see his face to know that it's true. You know he's not enjoying a single moment of having to listen to Bo explain how she is basically royalty while Cara looks at her like a wolf with hearts for eyes from your side of the table. This entire social interaction is wildly uncomfortable and you cannot wait to get out of there.

Once the food comes, Bo-Katan is suddenly asking Din if he would like to join her crew after the siege is over, stating again that she believes Mandalorians are stronger together. She says that perhaps Children of the Watch and mainstream Mandalorians can find a way to unite for the sake of their kind's survival. You can't help but notice how when she says this, the other two in her crew seem to make small faces of disapproval.

For a second your heart skips a beat, stomach lurching a little as you consider a possibility that Din could and has every right to say yes to such a proposal. It causes that jealousy to rise in you again, fierce and electric as you stare the woman down with an intense look from across the table. The kid coos in your lap, slurping up his food, and Din looks over at the two of you.

Din looks back at Bo with a shake of the head. “I cannot join this quest to take Mandalore. I am on a quest of my own, to bring this child to the Jedi.”

“What do you know of the Jedi?” She asks, eyeing him skeptically.

“Nothing, I was hoping you might help me by creed. If there is anything you know that could assist me in locating one,” Din replies honestly.

“Live through tomorrow and I will give you what information I have,” she bargains confidently.

Sitting there stewing, you can't help but think that you don't really care for Bo-Katan and you would very much like for her to leave your Mandalorian alone.

Eventually the meal is over and the plan is set. At first light the group will gather and make quick work of taking down the base. They will retrieve the Mandalorian weaponry, then overload the lava core to melt the place down and destroy it. Din and Bo-Katan will look for any evidence as to Moff Gideon's location and whatever knowledge he may have of the kid. The kid isn't to go anywhere near the base for fear of alerting anyone as to his living status, and therefore it's decided that you will stay behind with him. This only adds to your frustration with these new Mandos being here.

As everyone leaves to go their separate ways for the night, you are not surprised to see that Bo and Cara take off to speak in private, heading in the direction of Cara's house. As much as the Mandalorian royal annoys you, you are glad to see that Cara seems to have found someone that she likes. Definitely explains her appearance today, hair and make up done up more than usual.

None of that changes the fact that Bo and Koska made you incredibly jealous this evening, and that in turn is leaving you feeling irritable with your beloved when you don't really mean to be. He's trying to make conversation with you as you head towards the inn and you know that you don't sound like yourself as you respond to him, the answers you're giving coming out curtly.

*****

Din has no idea why you’re suddenly in a horrible, snippy mood with him. It takes him aback a little, considering how loving and kind you had been with him on the ship earlier this morning or when you'd so quickly defended his honor to Bo-Katan. He’s not interested in letting this simmer for a long time, waiting patiently for you to explain yourself as he would have done several months ago. No, the level of trust and communication between you has increased so much recently that he no longer feels trepidation about approaching you.

And so he plans to do just that as soon as the room at the inn is sorted out and the three of you are safely tucked away inside. Not the same room as last time, but nearly identical in every way. The plan is to rest for the night and execute the mission the following morning at first light. It's late enough that the kid has fallen asleep in your arms, but not late enough for the two of you to go to sleep yet. He's certainly not going to feel relaxed enough to even try until whatever this is gets resolved. So, if he can at all help it, he’s not going to spend the entire evening in the comfortable hotel room he's been looking forward to all day feeling wildly on edge because of your sudden change in mood.

You're already making quick work of tucking the child in the dark orange comforter, placed in the very center to sleep between the Din and yourself just as things had been last time. He'd been so worried that the two of you were going to suffocate the tiny kid that first night, but when he'd woken in the morning the child had been sleeping safely in the adults' embrace. Din recalls how that morning had felt, waking up facing the two of you. The sunlight softly lighting your peaceful face, the child tucked under yours and Din's touching hands.

Din uses that memory to steady himself as you kiss the child's forehead and stand back up. He notices right away that you're not facing him on purpose. Coming from a place of love, he softly asks you, “Cyar’ika?”

“Yes?” You respond, tone slightly bitter. You still will not look over at him, which Din knows by now to be a sign of just how upset you really are.

“Can I ask why you seem to be angry with me all of the sudden?”

You let out a long sigh, eyes shutting tightly. “I’m not angry with you.”

“But your demeanor towards me suggests otherwise,” Din counters.

With fingertips to your temples, you begin to rub small circles into the flesh there as you finally look at Din again. He's relieved to see that your features have softened a little as you speak. “I feel insecure, which makes me angry. So I guess I’m projecting that a little bit. But you haven’t done anything wrong, darling. I'm sorry for worrying you. I feel silly for even feeling this bad in the first place.”

“Do you know when it started?” He asks.

You sigh again, “When we met two very attractive female Mandalorians today and they kicked that pirate's ass.”

Din’s taken aback by that, completely unaware that the Bo-Katan and Koska had been the cause of this. He can’t help it, a little smile creeps up his lips under the beskar and his voice takes on a joyful tone, eyebrows rising. “Cyar’ika... are you... jealous?”

Covering your face with your hands, a groan erupts from your throat. “Ugh this is so embarrassing. Yes, you got me. I am jealous. I’m never going to be as bad-ass as those women. Seeing Bo-Katan stand there and talk to you with all of her muscles and beskar was driving me fucking crazy, Din.”

“Love, I have no idea where this is coming from but please trust me when I tell you that I felt nothing when I looked at those women other than confusion and a little bit of disdain. They are not true Mandalorians to me.”

“But they are from Mandalore, Din. She's the fucking Mandalorian princess, for fucks sake!”

“So because I grew up on one of its moons and not the planet itself my claim to the creed doesn’t mean as much? And just so you are aware, her bloodline means absolutely nothing to me. It may mean something in her culture, but in my culture foundlings are our future. We do not bow to kings or queens simply based on biological lineage.” He knows he sounds defensive but he also knows he can’t help it.

You give a shake of the head, frowning. “You misunderstand me. What I’m saying is that they were raised in your culture from birth, even if they take their helmets off and you don’t consider them to be legitimately Mandalorian in the way that you are. What if there are truly two ways of Mandalorian life? Even without walking The Way like you do, they know how to do everything I’ve been trying so hard to learn like the backs of their hands. How can I compete with that?”

“When did this become a competition to win my favor?” Din asks seriously, crossing his arms over his chest.

You shrug, groaning a little with frustration. “I don’t know, I guess I’m the only one making it one.”

Din looks at you squarely in spite of the fact that you cannot see his expression. “You've already won my favor a dozen times over. Those women didn’t look twice at me, but more significantly, I did not look twice at them. I think it is clear that you and I are together, even to strangers.”

Sighing, your shoulders relax a little. But Din knows you're still on edge as you speak, “I know, I know. Like I said, I feel embarrassed for even getting this worked up. I think Bo-Katan did look twice at Cara though.”

Din nods, “I saw that. Seems like a good fit for someone like Dune.”

“Cara likes her too, I could tell,” you agree.

Din says your name, tone dropping to a patient one. “You’ve changed the subject because this makes you uncomfortable, I can see it in your face. But I do not want to end this discussion without saying this: You are more than enough for me. I don’t think I could ever look at another person the way that I look at you. Yooba solus ner cyare.”

“You better remember that when those girls are using their jetpacks and acting all cool tomorrow.” You say, an uncomfortable, forced smile trying to find its way up your lips. Din can tell you're still feeling self conscious from the way you sound.

He moves forward, reaching his gloved hand out to cup your cheek. Once again he finds himself longing for his facial expression to be seen, the shame of that notion feeling odd considering the day's events. These new Mandalorians and their blasphemous lifestyle have him vexed for more reasons than just the fact that they flaunt their faces. But even still, a very teeny tiny part of him feels envious of Bo-Katan and her crew at this moment. Din has no interest in showing his face to the general population whatsoever, but dank farrik he wishes he could show it to you and the kid at times like this.

Din steadies himself, remembering that he's been able to communicate with you so well up to this point without his face playing a role in that. He reminds himself of how easy you are to talk to as he leans in to press his helmeted forehead to yours.

“I promise you that your face is the only one I want to see when I wake in the morning, and your voice is the last thing I want to hear when I fall asleep each night,” he says earnestly. “I love you very dearly.”

A little noise escapes your throat, and the way your eyes soften tells Din everything he needs to know. You're no longer concerned with jealousy as your arms come to wrap around his neck and he feels your body melt into his. “You really know how to charm a girl, Djarin,” you say in that voice you tend to use when the two of you are feeling particularly sentimental.

“To charm implies to manipulate and deceive, so I'm not entirely sure I understand.” Din says with confusion.

Laughing a little you lift up from the Mandalorian kiss to look at him more in the visor, in the eyes. “Its just another Earth phrase. I assure you in this context it's positive and intended to be romantic. I love you too, Chrome Dome.”

“Earth must be such a strange place,” Din muses jokingly.

“Concordia must be even stranger for the likes of you to come from it,” you say this just as teasingly, poking your tongue out at him.

“Hey now,” Din pretends to warn, “remember what happened the last time you were a brat to me.”

Pressing your body even closer to his, you smirk up at him knowingly. “I hope I never forget.”

*****

Next Chapter

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Masterlist

*****

Taglist:

@jokesonthem | @somewereinthegalaxi | @missbabyjay | @leithatnight | @theyoutubedork | @luc-k-y | @orcasoul | @erissco

[eldritch-spouse]

I was thinking about Grimbly, mostly his second form. There’s a term called gap moe in anime where an appearance to the character is the direct opposite of their personality, which adds to the appeal. If Grimbly had a Mommy that found him even cuter when he transformed perhaps you’ve been preferring the fact that he’s gotten bigger, would he be more confident or dislike it more? 

He would be baffled.

Grimbly doesn't truly believe in "gap moe", or similar concepts. Maybe it exposes some of his insecurities, but Grimbly has always thought that he needs to be physically, visibly adorable in order to be perceived and treated the way he desires.

Even if he never truly accepts his new appearance, he shifts gears, trying (and failing) to let go of the desire to be cute. Older Grimbly leans into style and elegance, transmitting an air of intimidating attractiveness that still draws people to him, but not exactly the way he likes it. They still shower him in compliments and trail after his every step in adoration, but it's just not the same. No one's doting after him or trying to protect him, it's not the same.

It's likely that, with you around, he won't believe you find him even more attractive now. He just can't wrap his head around it, going as far as to accuse you of lying in his face and mocking him during his most intense breakdowns. Naturally, he'll come to his senses later, apologizing, even if he still doesn't believe that's how you feel.

It'll take a lot of time for Grimbly to see this for what it is, the truth. People like you do exist, they'll still see and treat him the way he wishes, it's simply a community he has to find. Not that he's in a rush anymore, what really matters is that you love him, that you perceive him that way, that he can still act the same way he did before for you- Put on all the cute things and latch onto you, because even if he thinks he's too big and lanky for it now, you still pick him up and shower him in adoration like he's the most adorable thing to grace the Earth.

You're the best thing that could happen to his self-esteem.

[spelllingandthemysteryschool]

if it's not too invasive, can I ask how you figured out you were a lesbian? I'm currently trying to figure it out for myself and find many resources like the lesbian masterdoc a bit confusing, since I experience a lot of the things outlined there and am unsure how to differentiate comphet from attraction. how were you able to parse it all?

hi there! i ended up writing more than i expected so i put it under the cut!

hello and best of luck with figuring all this out. it took me many many months to sort through these feelings when i first started wondering if i might be a lesbian rather than bi so definitely don’t rush it—there is no deadline and no one is requiring you to know anything for certain any time soon! i also know that the lesbian masterdoc has been helpful for many people, but a lot of the things highlighted there are phenomena bi women also experience and the original writer also ultimately came out as bisexual, so i think an important thing to keep in mind is that you know yourself best.

in my case, it feel like it was pretty easy for me to recognize and accept the presence of my homosexual attraction and harder for me to recognize and accept the absence of my heterosexual attraction, since it was kind of a given (in my mind) that i did experience it, because um… why would i not? eventually it dawned on me that i didn’t really feel the same draw towards men my peers seemed to despite calling myself bi for five years and it was something i kind of uncomfortably revisited now and again for a while and constantly put off analyzing head-on. it eventually hit me that if i ended up with a man someday and the relationship worked out so well we got married, then i would be with him all the time: sharing a bed with him at night, having breakfast at the same table in the morning, walking down the street side by side and hand in hand. forever! and this idea dismayed, suffocated, and freaked me out so badly i sobbed so hard i almost threw up in my bedroom one evening. i just kept thinking about how all of these things that should be so pleasant to do with a lover sounded like a complete nightmare with a hypothetical man. so after things came to a head in this manner—the culmination of a long build-up—i realized it wasn’t really accurate to call myself bi and over the course of many painful and uncertain months i began to tentatively call myself a lesbian.

i’m quite confident in my lesbianism now (four years after the fact!) but i hesitated to call myself one for a while because of the idea that maybe someday i would come across the right man, who wouldn’t suffocate me if we were romantic with each other and who i would actually want to be close and intimate with. if you’re feeling similarly and holding off on calling yourself a lesbian out of the possibility or the anxiety that you might someday find an exception to these feelings, i encourage you to try calling yourself by this label slowly, maybe even just in your mind for a while before telling anyone else about it, and see if that takes the pressure off a little bit. labels should not be constricting! if you’re calling yourself bi out of anxiety let yourself set it down and see if that makes you feel like you can breathe easier. if you find that calling yourself a lesbian makes you feel more anxious than before and limited in your life and options, then maybe you aren’t one and bisexuality is the right descriptor after all. give yourself the grace and freedom to mentally try things out and not feel you’ve done something wrong by seeing what is more comfortable for you.

one last note about comphet that helped me when thinking about it—i feel like a lot of people have this conception of compulsory heterosexuality as, like, a one-and-done type of thing where you recognize you ‘have’ it and then eventually become so secure in your sexuality as a lesbian that it ‘goes away’. in reality it is a complex web of social, political, and economic conditions that rewards and enfranchises people in heterosexual relationships. no one is exempt from compulsory heterosexuality, not even heterosexual people, and certainly not bi people, because that’s just how the world is set up. i hope this doesn’t make things more difficult, but i encourage you to view comphet as a systematic issue rather than a personal one and see if that contextualizes your feelings towards men any differently and what that might mean for you.

anyway yeah tl;dr this is how it was for me, you know what is best for you, don’t be too hard on yourself as you try and figure this out! everything is going to be super fine and no matter when you land on ultimately there’s no losing and no judgment. i hope you take care and i hope this journey proves much easier than you expect! 💌

[tellyouily]

soft all the way through

dnf - fluff - 1.4k words

yay new fic :D

read on ao3

-

As he stands in his closet digging around in his top drawer for a t-shirt to wear to bed, Dream reflects on the fact that he’ll have no need for podcasts as long as he has George around.

George can easily – and will happily – do the talking. Or, the yapping, more precisely.

“Dream,” George is saying from his spot in Dream’s bed. “How are we so out of sync?”

There’s a sullenness to his voice that makes Dream smile. His hand touches a white shirt and he pulls it out, letting the drawer roll shut on its own.

George continues, “We’re like, the most out of sync we could possibly be.”

Dream pauses in the opening to his bedroom, his eyes quickly finding George and his cocooned shape on the bed. Taking up about eighty percent of the space, as per usual.

George’s gaze meets his. “And it’s all your fault,” he says.

Dream laughs, glancing down to turn the shirt in his hand the right side out.

“It’s not, George. I promise you it’s just a coincidence. An unlucky coincidence”

“Oh yeah, that every time I ask you to go fishing with me you happen to be busy. Totally a coincidence.”

George is good at sounding convincingly annoyed even when it’s all for show, Dream will give him that.

“Also why are you literally naked right now,” George adds, making Dream laugh and start moving towards him. “That’s like– I don’t even know, salt in the wound.”

“Jeez,” Dream says, pulling the shirt over his head. “Chill out.”

When he gets close enough, he smacks George’s foot on his way to his own side of the bed. That is, the side that’s usually his but is currently mostly occupied.

“Ow!” George yanks his foot into his safe mound of blankets. “What is your problem?”

Smiling softly, Dream only says, “You’re taking up all the space.”

“I’m not.”

George is also good at being the most stubborn person in any room he’s in.

Which isn’t difficult right now when his only competitor is one of the least stubborn people in the whole world, at least when it comes to anything to do with George.

The mattress dips where Dream kneels on it, and even as his knee touches George’s cocoon, George doesn’t move. So Dream gets in bed anyway, sitting down against the headboard; his left leg hanging off the side and his right side pressing all the way close to George’s cocoon.

Even now, George stays unmoving, which makes Dream huff, though the smile hasn’t left his lips.

“George, come on,” he says.

He’s not as good as George is at pretending to be annoyed. Although to be fair, he’s rarely ever annoyed at all when it comes to George.

Dream gives him the gentlest of pushes. “Move over, idiot.”

George, of course, reacts dramatically, rolling over all the way to the other side of the bed without a word.

Taking advantage of the newfound space, Dream scoots down and gets under the spare comforter, settling against his pillow with a sigh.

It’s warm between the sheets. He likes knowing that it’s thanks to George.

Dream turns to look at him, finding his brown eyes already looking; that familiar sullenness is still swirling in them.

“Oh no,” Dream says, a new smile growing on his lips. “I upset the baby.”

He slips one hand, and then the other, into George’s cocoon and starts to pull him closer.

“Poor baby. He can’t even talk, he's so upset.”

George smiles, seemingly involuntarily, and when Dream leans in to try and kiss him, he finally breaks.

“Okay, we get it. You’re annoying,” he laughs, pushing Dream’s face away.

Under the covers, though, he’s all softness, putting up no resistance to Dream wrapping his arms around his middle and pushing his thigh between his.

“See? Now we both fit,” Dream says.

George turns to face him on the pillow they’re now sharing. 

“Not when I leave and go sleep my own bed,” he says.

Dream hums, ignoring him. Gently, of course.

He feels George’s gaze on the side of his face as he reaches blindly for his phone on his nightstand and brings it over his face to unlock it.

He opens his calendar, drawing George’s attention to his screen as well.

A lot of Dream’s recent and upcoming afternoons are blue with various activities. Because yes, he wasn’t lying when he said it’s coincidence and not unwillingness on his part that has kept him from joining George on his fishing adventures.

George hums, probably noticing the same thing.

“But look,” Dream says. “See Thursday? I’m free all that afternoon, just for you.”

He turns to George as he says this, and watches as he proceeds to pull out his own phone and open up the same app. Without a word, George navigates to Dream’s schedule, which he for some reason unknown to Dream has access to, taps on said Thursday on and types Fishing with George IMPORTANT .

Dream laughs. “Alright. Thursday, then. Are you gonna be nice to me now?”

“I am, actually,” George says, sounding pleased.

So it’s settled.

George starts scrolling on Tiktok with the volume turned down, and Dream gets to catching up on the text messages he has left to be answered when he has time.

Time that he finally has, here now with George.

He likes that they can be quiet together like this. It’s been a fact since long before George got to Florida that the two of them have this special access to each other, to their softest states.

“Look.” George tilts his phone towards Dream to show him a video.

It’s a dumb meme, something about Formula 1 that George definitely understands better than him, but it makes Dream smile anyway. Sleepiness is making his thoughts move slower.

“Funny right?” George asks

“Yeah,” Dream agrees. “You’re funny.”

Minutes pass, and he moves onto Reddit. He doesn’t get through many posts, though, before his eyes start to close on their own.

Who needs melatonin when redditors exist out there with the ability to bore him to sleep?

He puts his phone on do-not-disturb and lets it get lost in the sheets, too comfy to plug it in to charge. Within a moment, George sighs and does the same, his hand gravitating instead to Dream’s hair, much to Dream’s contentment.

“Tired?” George asks.

The answer is so obvious that no answer would do, but Dream nods anyway. 

George pushes the hair back from Dream’s forehead for a moment and lets it fall back into place.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks.

Dream closes his eyes, breathing out the day. A question like that presents an opportunity he simply can’t let pass. George must think he’s too tired to notice.

“Your mom,” Dream replies, the corner of his lips tugging upwards just slightly.

He wonders if saying that will ever stop being amusing to him, or whether they’re doomed to make the same joke over and over to each other for the rest of their lives. Dream thinks he wouldn’t mind the latter.

George makes a soft, sarcastic sound that makes Dream smile wider.

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“Well,” George starts. “You’ll never guess what I’m thinking about.”

Dream laughs tiredly. “I think I can, actually.”

“It’s something very similar.”

“Yeah? What’re you thinking about, George?”

“Your dad. Funnily enough.”

It catches Dream off guard enough to make him open his eyes. Fair play, he thinks, still laughing

“Weren’t expecting that, were you,” George asks, happy with himself.

“No, you kinda got me.”

He closes his eyes again, letting George’s ministrations with his hair pull him back into his thoughts. Back into the fuzzy place in between being awake and not.

After a minute or two, George’s voice brings him closer to the surface again;

“Imagine I could actually read your mind.”

Dream smiles. “Just be a slideshow of you.”

“Do you think?”

“Yeah. Just pictures of like, your face.” Then after a pause:  “And another part of you, that I won’t say.”

“I think you should say it.”

Dream doesn’t, and he won’t, but he likes that he doesn’t have to for it to be true.

George’s hand travels down to the nape of his neck and pinches the skin there once, gently.

“Your big heart,” Dream says, then.

George lets out a soft laugh.

“Nice,” he says. “You’re not tricking anyone.”

He’s right, of course. George is good at being right about things.

And Dream is good at being an open book.

In the comfort of this, of knowing that his feelings are anything but a secret, Dream finally drifts off to sleep.

[monopersona]

Dragon Queen

Aria noticed her little brother out of the corner of her eye and frowned. “Kai, you can’t be the Dragon Queen too! There’s only one Dragon Queen, and that’s me!” Sylus's son wants to do everything his big sister does, much to Sylus's amusement.

Married + Parents Sylus x MC (Lili), Baby Aria and Kai :D, family, domestic fluff. 1034 words.

A/N: I had some fics lined up but this one just came to mind and I couldn't resist writing it. Enjoy!

You can read on ao3 here

Series masterlist here

Kai was always a quiet child.

Where Aria burned bright throughout every space she occupied, Kai lingered in the spaces she left behind. It had always been this way.

At three years old, he followed her everywhere. If Aria ran, Kai ran. If Aria climbed, Kai climbed. If Aria jumped, Kai jumped—even if his legs were too short to make it as far as hers. He never complained nor whined when he stumbled or fell behind. He just picked himself up and kept moving forward, chasing after his sister.

Aria, for all her fiery energy, had little patience for a shadow.

It was a sunny Saturday; sunlight streamed through the living room curtains, casting a golden glow over scattered toys and forgotten drawings. The house was rarely silent nowadays, filled instead with endless chatter and mischief of two young children. Sylus sat in his favorite armchair, a cup of coffee in hand, watching the scene unfold with quiet amusement.

Aria was in the middle of one of her elaborate adventures. Her white hair—an uncanny resemblance of her father’s—was tied up in a messy ponytail, and her brown eyes sparkled with determination. She had draped a blanket over her shoulders like a cape and brandished a wooden spoon as if it were a sword.

“I am the Dragon Queen!” she declared, her voice roaring with authority. “And I must protect my kingdom from the evil sorcerer!”

Kai sat quietly on the floor nearby, his dark hair—so like his mother’s—a mess, and his crimson eyes—a mirror of Sylus’s—wide with admiration. He clutched a stuffed bear in his tiny hands, but his attention was entirely on Aria. Without a word, he stood up, dragging the blanket he had been sitting on behind him. He tried to mimic her stance. His face scrunched in concentration as he held up a plastic spoon near her, his bear left forgotten.

Aria noticed him out of the corner of her eye and frowned, dropping her spoon. “Kai, you can’t be the Dragon Queen too! There’s only one Dragon Queen, and that’s me!”

Kai didn’t respond, his expression unwavering as he continued to mirror her movements. When Aria stomped her foot, he stomped his. When she swung her “sword,” he did the same, though his movements were clumsier and more rooted in admiration than frustration.

Sylus chuckled softly as he set his coffee cup on the side table. He had always found it endearing how Kai idolized his older sister. From the moment Kai had learned to crawl, he had always wanted to be with her so much that Lili had to take him away and distract him so their daughter could have some time to herself. Sylus couldn’t help but find it heartwarming.

Aria, on the other hand, was growing increasingly exasperated. She turned to Kai, hands on her hips. “Kai, you’re ruining my game! Go play something else!”

Kai’s lower lip trembled, but he didn’t cry. Instead, he simply sat down on the floor with the plastic spoon clutched tightly to his chest. His crimson eyes were downcast, and for a moment he looked so small and vulnerable that Sylus’s heart almost hurt.

Aria hesitated, and Sylus could tell she was starting to feel guilty. She glanced at him, and he silently nodded, urging her to make things right. With a sigh, she kneeled beside Kai.

“Okay, fine,” she tells him in a softer tone now. “You can be the Dragon Prince. But you have to do what I say, got it?”

Kai’s face lit up as he nodded eagerly, scrambling to his feet. Aria rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. She handed him a toy shield, and together they resumed their game as a team.

Despite her annoyance, Aria never truly pushed Kai away. Sure, there were times when fights occurred in the house between the two (either Aria throws a tantrum because she is annoyed or Kai is the one that has a tantrum because he can’t be with his sister—both situations where one of their parents has to step in and set some boundaries). She would sigh, roll her eyes, and pretend she didn’t care—but she always made space for him whenever she had the capacity for it. If she ran ahead, she would slow down just enough for him to catch up. If she found something interesting, she would talk about it loud enough for him to hear even if she never addressed him directly.

And if Kai ever truly fell behind, she was the first to turn back. Sylus had seen it before—Aria’s sharp, brown eyes scanning for her little brother, her body going rigid with worry. She would never admit it, but she never really wanted to leave him behind—not most of the time, anyway. Kai knew this too.

So even when she called him a copycat or that he’s “cramping her style,” even when she grumbled about him getting in the way, Kai never stopped following her. Lili and Sylus still try to teach Kai about boundaries, and hopefully as he gets older, he will grow out of this phase. But for now, when it’s harmless, he found it amusing.

Sylus leaned back in his chair, a contented smile gracing his face. He glanced at Lili, who had entered the room with her own cup of tea. “At it again, are they?”

Sylus nodded, his gaze lingering on the children. “She’ll figure it out eventually,” he said softly. Lili laughed, sitting down on the sofa next to him. “She already has. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

As the morning wore on, the sounds of laughter and playful bickering filled the house. Sylus and Lili watched their children, hearts swelling with love and joy. Aria, with her fiery spirit and boundless imagination, had always been force to be reckoned with even at the tender age of seven. And Kai, quiet but steadfast, was her perfect counterpart. A gentle soul who found joy in simply being near his sister.

In that moment, Sylus couldn’t imagine a life without them. There was nowhere else he’d rather be.

A/N: What did you guys think? Do let me know, as I'm very open to feedback. I do hope you enjoyed it, though! Thank you for reading and I hope you have a pleasant day/night wherever you are.

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