#I also might be in the midsts of writing something real quick

[before-it-felt-like-a-sin]

Can you write sfw alphabet with nat?

SFW Alphabet with Nat

A/N: I got two of these so I figured I had to do it :). I'm also in the midst of a longer fic but since yall have been starved for like three months I wanted to post something real. (As funny as my little insane posts are I think yall deserve more.)

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A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

She's touchy, but not hella touchy. Just like a tap on the shoulder, or a side hug mostly. But she's mostly a quality time or gifting type. Like she loves just sitting in the same room together, doing your own thing. And for the gifts, she sees literally anything she thinks you'd like or reminds her of you, she's brining it to you.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

She's a great best friend, and your friendship stemmed from you deciding she was going to be your friend one day. You just show up and start talking to her. She's very much confused but ultimately rolls with it because you don't seem to be doing anything as a joke.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

She's cuddly when the two of you are alone, but you're out with friends or at a party, it's more just an arm around the shoulder. But the minute you're home, the two of you can't be close enough. She'd probably crawl straight into your skin if she could.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Depends on how "settled" we're thinking. She's not the white picket fence, married with kids type. But she's very pro-getting a shitty apartment together in a medium-to large city. She definitely works at some shit bar, but that's the closest to settled y'all will get.

Cooking, she's great. An amazing cook. Cleaning? Mediocre, but your apartment is never fully a disaster.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Erm.

She'd definitely do it in the middle of an argument, completely impulsively. She doesn't really mean it, either.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

At first she's very knee deep in the passenger seat about everything (haha casual by Chappell Roan reference), but after a while she realizes she really likes you. I feel like she sees you talking to another girl and gets jealous, and the next day she's ready to commit.

As for marriage, I don't think she really needs that to feel committed to you. She's not opposed if you want to get married, but she's not going to be the one to bring it up.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Physically, middle of the road. Obviously doesn't intentionally hurt you, but she can get kind of rough sometimes. She'll stop the minute you say something about it, though.

Emotionally? When you first meet, not at all. She'll say whatever she's thinking and not even comprehend it might hurt you. I feel like as time goes on, once she realizes you're not gonna leave her, she gets a lot gentler.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

She likes to do the hug from behind and rest her head on your shoulder when you're cooking or something like that. I feel like she's not really into the stereotypical full-body hug. It's mostly side hugs or from behind.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

She doesn't say it for a while, not because she doesn't think it, but because she thinks you won't say it back. When she says it for the first time, she thinks you're asleep and whispers it. You mumble an "I love you too" back and she kind of freezes. But then she realizes that you said it back.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

I don't think she's super jealous, but when she is, it's bad. If someone's flirting with you (or if you're flirting back for attention), she's all over you. Kissing your forehead, running her hands all over you. She makes it very clear that you are taken.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Her kisses are kind of rough. I don't think that girl has ever even seen a chapstick.

Where she likes to kiss you: your mouth, neck, shoulders, and hands.

Where she likes to be kissed: temple, mouth, neck, and her hairline.

If she imitates a kiss, it's generally rough from the start. Like she kisses you like she's starving and needs to taste you. But I think she likes when you're softer about your kisses.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

I know it may be a controversial take, but that girl is amazing with kids. I don't think she wants them for herself, but when your friends have kids or if you have nieces or nephews, she's obsessed. Honestly it gives you baby fever every time.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

She's asleep. It's never a "get up and get going" morning with her. You spend a lot of time just sitting in bed together, especially if you don't have to get going for work. She sleeps very late, so you mostly spend time reading or scrolling waiting for her to get up.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

It's almost the same as the morning. If one of you has to be up the next day (most of the time it's you), you generally stay in and watch a movie together. If it's the weekend, you go out to dinners or bars.

As for actual sleeping arrangements, she's always up really late. She's not even really doing anything, she just doesn't sleep very well. So essentially, instead of you awake like the mornings, she's the one just waiting.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

You know a lot of her past traumas pretty fast, since you were friends first. But you're like three years into your relationship when you realize she's never told you her favorite color. She definitely doesn't reveal everything at once, you kind of have to work for it.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

She's not easily angered in most scenarios, but if you're lot listening to her then she gets pissed off. Or like if you make assumptions about her. She is easily annoyed though. Or at least she pretends to be. But if she's teaching you something she'll make sure you get it no matter how long it takes.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

She remembers literally everything you say, but doesn't show it. For months, you thought she barely listened to you until someone asked your favorite food/color/book/etc, and she answered before you could.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Your first kiss, for sure. It was before you two were together officially. The two of you were friends before, and at one point just ended up kissing, whether out of curiosity or something else. That was when she realized she had feelings for you, and the two of you casually hooked up for a while.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

She's a bit protective, mostly by an arm around your waist if she thinks someone's a little too close to you. She never gets physical with people, but she's often glaring at people when they look at you weird.

When it comes to protecting her, she doesn't really need it. She can hold her own. She more likes the support of knowing you're there for her if she needs it.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Dates: not a ton, but not because she doesn't care, she just doesn't care what y'all do as long as y'all are together. So, she mostly leaves date planning up to you.

Anniversaries: again, she doesn't really care? She gets some flowers or something small, but neither of you really expect anything big.

Gifts: she puts tons of thought into them. She grew up really poor, so once she has means to buy things when she wants them, she's getting you anything you want whenever you want it. And for birthdays/holidays, she spends months saving to get you something big every time.

Everyday tasks: if you remind her, she'll do them, or if she thinks of it. She's not super strong in either direction, but if there's a chore you absolutely despise, she'll do it every time for you without fail.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Cannibalism.

The more obvious choice is her substance abuse issues. I think if this is pre-crash or no crash, she just smokes (both cigarettes and weed) most of the time. She drinks too, but that's not her main choice. Honestly, you find the smoking hot, but you also wish she would stop for her health.

She also definitely bites her fingernails/cuticles. Like her nails are constantly a bleeding mess.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Conventionally, she doesn't care. She doesn't want to feel like she has to appeal to anyone. However, if she doesn't think she looks good in her own way, she's constantly asking if she looks alright.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Not incomplete, but lonely maybe? She doesn't have a ton of friends, and so if you're not dragging her around to talk to people, she really only has Kevyn and Van to talk to.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Okay this is a personal indulgence but as someone who's midsize/plus size I think she'd absolutely buy clothes big enough to fit you so you can wear them. Like she gets t-shirts huge on purpose so you can steal them from her. She pretends she just likes them really baggy, but she goes insane for the way you look in her clothes. You totally know what she's doing too, but it's just so insanely sweet that you don't say anything to her about it.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

I feel like she's a broccoli hater.

In all seriousness though, I feel like the thing she's really vehemently against is PDA. She's fine with like small kisses and holding hands, but beyond that? She's very much against PDA. At home, whatever. But whenever you're out of the apartment, she's not touchy at all.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Babygirl does not sleep right at all. She's going to bed at 3-4 a.m. every morning and then sleeps till two or three in the afternoon. She can and will get up earlier if needed, but never goes to sleep any earlier. It stresses you out, but no matter what you do she's still up until like the crack of dawn.

[damianbugs]

saki i'm sorry i don't know much about DC comics, but i have been confused about something recently when seeing fan comics — are Bruce and Two-Face (Harvey?) still friends post-whatever happened to him? I think they were friends before, maybe, but some fanon has been suggesting to me they might still be, so I was wondering about that. Opinions on him, too, maybe? I know fuck all about him but he's so quirky

i wouldn't say they're... still friends exactly. let's do some background real quick.

i think the really sweet and close friendship bruce wayne and harvey dent had prior to his acid attack, that inspires a lot of fancontent — is from Batman: The Animated Show. in this iteration of their history, they're close friends who obviously mean a lot to each other, which is why the guilt batman feels for two-face is only more painful.

(of course in much earlier comics and harvey's original introduction (detective comics #66) bruce and harvey are friends too. though, it's not often referenced as his origin much anymore.)

in the comics however, the friendship starts and unfortunately ends with batman. batman, (captain) jim gordon, (DA) harvey all work together to try and solve the case in Batman: The Long Halloween.

they grow close and personally, i think bruce was really starting to form a close bond and trust with harvey throughout their partnership. this really shines through when after harvey becomes two-face (which is a long and sad story), bruce still has somewhat of a belief that harvey can still be good.

though, we know now that two-face ends up having a permanent spot in gothams rouge gallery, but i suppose it's because of this history of trust that batman continues to encourage harvey to turn his life around (a sentiment he has with a lot of his rouges, but something that is especially prominent in his relationship with two-face).

as for what their origins are in the new 52? i have no idea! moving on.

for what their relationship is like currently;

the most recent interactions i think they've had is in ram v's current Detective Comics run (which is FANTASTIC) and out of all the harvey and bruce comics i have read, it is probably my favourite. they're not even the main focused relationship, but it is such an important one for the theme of this arc.

in this run harvey is at war with himself, struggling between being 'good' and being 'bad' — but also struggling to simply have a choice at doing either. bruce is also facing a similar turmoil. so we see this really wonderful parallel in the midst of a battle where harvey is debating whether or not he wants to save bruce or leave him to die, and bruce is battling whether he wants to give in or keep going.

two-face does end up saving bruce. this is something very important to both of their characters.

it shows bruce that the man he befriended is not lost and it gives harvey a sense of autonomy that he's been stripped of for a long time. it's a short but very moving subplot about hope.

that being said, harvey isn't doing this because he wants to be friends with bruce again. or well, two-face isn't. it's complicated.

i don't think i could do the writing justice (there is also like, an insane overarching plot going on). once he drags bruces half dead body to safety, he threatens him, leaves bruce there and is currently, on the run.

so friends? not really. enemies? also not exactly. really tragic story about missing someone you once knew, wondering if you ever really knew them in the first place? ABSOLUTELY.

there is also some insanely obvious queercoding taking place in their story, but i focused on their friendship side of things.

it's one of bruce's more complicated rouge relationships, and probably the best one thematically. harvey is such an interesting character and if dc wouldn't use the same green headed dumbass as the villain in all their batman stories, two-face would definitely be the most compelling rouge for bruce.

i don't know if this actually made any sense, and also apologies for taking so long to answer this! here is probably one of the best detective comics covers ever made as an apology (it is bruce standing in the middle of a split two-face carved golden door with a batman shadow in the back. this shit is marvelous).

[iravaid]

hiii. i adore ur little thang (lunchbox) and i was wondering if there was any like, fic, or posts i could go to To Obtain The Full Lunchbox Lore Experience (insert a trademark symbol here bc im too lazy to copypaste it) < 3 < 3 < 3

Hi! Hello! I also adore that little thang, and am always happy to see people do as well skdhf

I don't think I've made a Certified Lunchbox Lore Sheet, I've adapted her for use as a TTRPG NPC, and talked about her here and there, but will probably make a dedicated post about her in the future + an oc sheet. maybe. if there is time and my attention span allows 😭

Lunchbox was initially made to serve as a character in my Nines/LaCroix fic, WDH, but in what has been posted so far, she has made the one appearance (Hoping to include her more as an emotional crux + heathen to the world), I am working on rewriting WDH as I'm getting back into it and my writing style + intention for the plot has changed in the past year and a half (NEARLY TWO YEARS. People are so incredibly patient <3). She's existed as a character since late 2020 and was my first VtM oc! liddol lady, going to give a longer about of her below

Lunchbox's sire is a character from Night Roads, a Nosferatu Elder known as Reremouse. The circumstances surrounding her embrace, and the event itself is something I'm intending to go into further detail in in another ask that's been sent! But yeah, Lunchbox was Embraced, she fled Reremouse before he could devour her, and through some combination of sheer luck, the intuition of a very scared and hurting child in the midst of becoming a nosferatu, and cooperation with the Beast, Lunchbox made it into LA, where she was found in the sewer system underneath the city by other Nosferatu. At first they'd thought she was a szlachta, but Lunchbox was eventually caught on camera and people realised that this was one of their own. At this point Lunchbox has been feeding off of animals she could get her hands on, rats, birds, lizards, snakes, dogs, cats, and the like. It's not like she gets any real joy or thrill out of it, just that she's hungry.

Filthy, terrified, and more Beast than person, she was slowly coaxed into the Warrens, the Nosferatu of LA leaving little toys and gifts by places they had seen the little Nosferatu running about. She gets her name from the little Digimon lunchbox she kept clutched in her hand on the journey over, it’s the only thing she was able to hold on to in her past life, and is empty. One of the other Nos suggested the name as a joke when they were struggling to communicate with her, but Lunchbox recognised the word, reacting to it, and it eventually stuck.

Lunchbox is 8th generation, and gained a very quick mastery of Obfuscate. She can't speak due to the traumatic nature of her embrace, as well as her Nosferatu appearance interfering with general word formation (huge teeth, no lips, weird windpipe, upper palate gone all weird, tongue much stubbier), and at the beginning communication is achieved mostly yes/no questions, drawings, and charades. Soon she'll be taught ASL, and her and Nines learn LSM, as Spanish is her first language and has to figure out English during her time in LA. Nines speaking the same/similar dialectical Spanish is one of the factors that makes her gravitate towards him, because he speaks like how her family did. (he’s also one of the few kindred in LA who still seems to retain the ability to speak to kids and Not be a freak)

Gary is the one who primarily takes care of Lunchbox in the Warrens, which typically entails keeping an eye on her, making sure she has somewhere to spend torpor (used to be a box in his closet she’d bundle up in for comfort, now she has her own room with most of her stuff in it), and making sure she’s not causing too much of a mess aboveground with the other Kindred. He’s not as physically affectionate towards her as Nines and others might be, Gary isn’t the most paternal person in the world, but he still grows to care for her in her own way, and I think Lunchbox recognises that Gary is her protector and carer.

Lunchbox likes skittering about the sewers and is usually only seen by others when she wants them to, she’s very apprehensive of strangers and it would take a long time for her to warm up to them after watching them for some weeks and gauging if they’re a threat to her or not - this process can be sped up if someone she trusts ie. Gary and Nines, introduces them to her. Lunchbox also has a habit of stealing assorted valuables (money, jewellery, keys, artefacts and the like), toys, and anything that is brightly coloured and/or shiny. She likes collecting small children’s toys, as well, and has recently acquired two domesticated rats as famuluses, named Funnelcake and Churro (Gary let her steal them from the Santa Monica PetSmart)(this is very much inspired by @/shrikehouse’s art of her here he is an amazing artist, pls go check him out). Before this, Lunchbox was ambivalent to rats, but now she doesn’t want to hurt any by feeding on them (might hurt her famuluses’ feelings). She’s content sneaking into the blood bank and swiping some bags behind Vandal’s back.

Lunchbox is a no gods no masters kind of beast and likes to harass everyone and anyone, but she’s also quite tolerated by those who have every right to retaliate, while most tend to like and/or adore the little creature, once they figure out she is genuinely just a kid (bearing all the horror that accompanies that reality). When Gary has had enough of her for the night/needs her to be watched and no one else is able to in the Warrens, he leaves her at the Last Round, where Nines tends to take care of her.

Damsel didn’t immediately fawn over Lunchbox when they first met so in Lunchbox’s mind that means they’re enemies (Damsel is not aware of this), Skelter entertains her by playing videogames with her on arcade machines or gameboy. Knox thinks she’s both very cool and very cute in a gnarly way, and Bertram thinks this whole situation with Gary accidentally becoming an adoptive vampire dad hilarious - kid’s okay in his eyes. The Voermans are slightly aware of her, and Vandal thinks the blood bank is haunted. Strauss doesn’t mind the way Lunchbox occasionally appears in the Chantry from time to time, so long as she doesn’t ruin his books and relics. Mercurio is creeped out by her and tries not to incite her trickery, to somem success - he also just Doesn’t know how to interact with her because she is both a child and a vampire and she’s technically higher ranking than him societal wise, but she also needs a booster seat. so.

Smiling jack thinks she’s a weird little kid, not much else to say; he might try and smuggle her fireworks if only to see what she’ll do with them. Ming Xiao has never encountered her, and Andrei has a kind of Cronenberg Tom and Jerry situation with her because she finds it funny to steal his meat relics (tm) and replace them with My Little Pony dolls when he’s not looking (tunnel between his house and the warrens works BOTH ways). She is also the bane of LaCroix’s existence. Fight the system, little one, and fight it well.

That’s what i can think of as a little Lunchbox Lore Experience for now! Thank you for the ask!

[wonlouvre]

more for forever | k. mg.

pairing: editor-in-chief mingyu x female reader genre: fluff, a little bit of angst, cliché (in the sense that mingyu is rich and likes to spoil his girlfriend) warnings: mentions of insecurity, food word count: 2.8k

💌: this is just pure indulgence and i really hope you all like this! please wait for wonwoo because i have something in store for him too ;) again, this is cliché please forgive me. please tell me what you think about it hehe i love reading your comments, feedbacks and tags! also a big thank you to @minkwans​ for sharing their ideas and giving this oneshot life! <3

The name Kim Mingyu didn’t ring a bell before. Not until his executive assistant reached out to you because apparently, the photographer slash writer read one of your blog posts and wanted you to take part for their sixth year anniversary issue. You know the famous magazine and publishing company, which is why you thought it was a scam or a ploy to steal your money. It’s a stupid assumption but you can’t blame your mind imagining the worse because you are not a fashion blogger at all. Why would a fashion magazine want you to write an article for them?

Sure, you regularly write and post blog entries on your website. But you write about your dog, your recently bought tea coaster and sometimes your skincare routine. Okay, maybe your occasional outfit of the day as well but nothing in detail. Again, why do they want you to write for them?

Kim Mingyu answered your questions and uncertainties when he personally emailed his contact details to you. You didn’t have to bite, but it didn’t hurt to confirm at the same time. You dialed the number and he indeed proved you wrong. He invited you for a meeting at his office and you accepted. 

Your visits to high-rise buildings, much more to the luxurious office of an executive, is rare to never. You were jaw slacked when your eyes took in the crisp architecture. The design, the furniture, the color, the everything was beyond what you could have imagined a publishing company’s headquarters could be. 

The meeting was nothing but short of an interview. He asked about your blog (which does not even have its own domain by the way), he asked what else you write about, he asked about your desk job (which doesn’t pay much but enough for you to get by), he asked if you have any background about fashion and one last question about your dog, Max, before talking about his proposal. 

To be honest, Mingyu’s offer was tempting. For one article, the commission would be enough for you to move out of your current apartment and move to a brand new and fully-furnished one. But you remained true to yourself and without thinking twice, you declined. 

You can tell that the editor-in-chief and his assistant, who stood beside him all throughout, was surprised by the looks on their faces. But Mingyu respected your decision and didn’t pursue any further. You took your stand from the chair and sincerely thanked him for the time and opportunity. You thought that would be it but when he followed suit with your actions and reached his hand out, it was your turn to be surprised. 

You didn’t hesitate to mirror him and shake his hand, firmly. After that, you’d figure that it’s the end and that you’ll probably get to see a glimpse of him only through your television or phone. But Mingyu proved you wrong once again when he sent an unexpected email three days later asking why.

What might be the reason why you didn’t accept his offer? 

You believed he deserved an explanation of your personal reasons so you disclosed them. And just like that the conversation on that email thread naturally progressed and eventually deepened. The professional emails became casual text messages, the text messages became phone calls, and the phone calls became actual face to face dates at late hours of the evening because he usually clocks out at 9 o’clock. 

The rest, as they say, was in the hands of history. 

Your first date with Mingyu was particularly odd. It was at a traditional Korean restaurant owned by one of his friends who introduced himself as Angel even though his real name is Jeonghan. You didn’t question him or anyone else why because that’s none of your business. But back to the date. It was odd because you have never been to a restaurant that’s completely empty and dead silent before (aside of course, from the typical music played in the background). You asked Mingyu if such an occurrence is normal and he just plainly answered that he rented the whole place all to yourselves. You have always known he’s rich. However, you didn’t believe that booking the whole restaurant was necessary.  

Nonetheless, that first date, in some way, was special for you because there were no distractions. You enjoyed his company and you can tell he enjoyed yours too because he’s quick to mention a second date and it didn’t take a heartbeat for you to say yes. 

But, by far, Mingyu inviting you to the behind the scenes of the making of the sixth anniversary issue that you turned down writing for is one of the most memorable dates the two of you had. It was out of the blue and you two were having difficulty in syncing your schedules. He was beginning to get busier and busier as the anniversary neared and the only way he could think of still making time for you is inviting you to his office. He called you and asked if you’re free to have lunch together. And you, being attracted to the handsome and tall man, didn’t hesitate to say yes. 

He was in the middle of ending his morning meeting when you arrived and you were almost caught off-guard when all eyes were suddenly on you, making you feel small. But Mingyu didn't care as his smile beamed, immediately standing up from his chair to walk towards you. The rest of his staff were still in the midst of walking out of his office when he grasped your hand to pull you inside and you have never felt so shy your whole life.

Since then, he made you tag along to the creative process and you witnessed how hands on he was with every article, every photo, every brand, every trend and every detail that goes to the magazine that he has built and loved with his blood, sweat and tears. He’s beyond dedicated in finding and doing what’s best for the magazine and most importantly, its loyal readers. 

You can tell that he really is deserving of everything that he has and is still receiving.

Mingyu being perfect also applies to your relationship. He’s always present despite being booked with fittings, meetings, photoshoots and business travels twenty-nine days of the month. He never fails to call, never fails to answer your calls. He never fails to offer the warmest hugs and the softest kisses. Well, he fails to be on time during your dates sometimes but he never once stood you up and his cuddles when he sleeps over are enough to apologize for the lost time.

The only flaw he has is that he doesn’t know how to take no for an answer. Most especially at times where he wants to shower his love in ways that cost more than your paycheck in a year.

Here are some examples:

You know that Mingyu pays attention to every word you say. Even if you just mentioned a passing topic, he will do his best to keep those in mind. With that being said, you mentioned once that you want to renovate the extra bedroom of your apartment and turn it into a study where you could work someday. Your boyfriend, being the rich man he is, offered to hire and pay a team that could help you bring the design you envisioned into life. 

That was during the first few months of your relationship and you were flabbergasted by how easy it was for him to do or much less say. Needless to say, you immediately turned him down and he respected that (but of course, he pouted about it like a child all throughout the day). 

But wait, there’s more. 

Do you remember how you mentioned that Mingyu travels frequently? Yes? Well, Mingyu always books an extra ticket for you just in case you want to join him. Sometimes it’s not even about the flight ticket anymore. It’s about him stopping by your apartment to pick you up unexpectedly as if France is only a drive away. 

It’s unbelievable, really. That’s why you always close the door on his face. But of course, you don’t forget to give him a long kiss and “stay safe” or “I’ll miss you” farewell. Mingyu, ever the good boy he is, lets you win and just return your kisses a little longer for the days he won’t be able to do so. 

Mingyu’s intentions are pure and you’re well aware that the man that you love is only doing this because it’s simple, he loves you. He wants what’s best for you, he wants to give you what you deserve. You can never blame him for being out of touch from reality at times, but you can learn and grow with him. Although of course, he still needs a scolding and a wake up call every now and then. 

Anything else? Yes.

You didn’t take into consideration that he’d remember, but one night while the two of you were about to fall asleep, you sleepily mumbled about your dreams of attending graduate school. It was a mere whisper in the late night against his chest and you even thought that he wouldn’t hear you at all because his eyes were already closed. You honestly didn’t expect that he’d send you brochures of different universities who offer various programs the following day. You had to calm him down as he excitedly talked you through it. You even had to shut him up with your lips and explain that you don’t have the time to study at the moment with your current job. He tried to encourage you with praises and admiration of your dedication, skills and knowledge. But no, you didn’t buy it and that’s the end of discussion. 

The gifts, however, are something that Mingyu is not giving up on. The first few instances he gave you gifts whether it be a high-end handbag, shoes, clothing, and even jewelry, you allowed him. Because there were only a few. But along the way, the gifts got bigger and more frequent. You had to sit him down to set limitations. It was a long conversation of him trying to get the upper hand. But you didn’t let him outsmart you with his hugs and kisses. It was either he was going to tone it down with the gifts or no gifts at all. 

Sometimes, as much as you hate to admit it to yourself, you can’t avoid getting insecure and afraid that the euphoric time you share with Mingyu is not meant to last. At some point, the fact that he's one of the youngest successful editor-in-chiefs of a multi-million earning magazine got overwhelming. You can’t help but feel that you’re no match for him. And again, you hate that your mind gets clouded with ideas that you’re just a charity case he enjoys spending his money on. Of course, you believe that he doesn’t look at you in that way.

It’s you who thinks so. 

“Hey.”

You release the bite on your bottom lip at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice. Your lost eyes shoot to the stove where he’s cooking and you notice that he’s about done so you should set the table. 

You didn’t even answer Mingyu’s call which concerns him. He wipes the sauce off his hands on the apron he’s wearing and holds your waist before you could even round the corner to the cabinets. 

His warmth snaps you out of your thoughts. Your eyes blink up to him and he just raises his eyebrows at you. 

“Is there something wrong?” He asks and lowers the heat of the conduction. 

“Nothing, nothing,” you lie, shaking your head, “Let me get the plates. I’m quite hungry.”

You try escaping his strong arms and gaze, but he doesn’t let you go. Instead, he wraps his arms around your waist tighter. Your palms automatically land on his chest and the lean muscles make you gulp. 

“I’m going to ask again and this time, I want you to tell me the truth,” he says in a serious yet gentle tone. “What’s wrong?”

You sigh and lean your forehead against his chest. Mingyu also sighs and kisses the top of your head. It’s better to tell him now because you’re not going to get anywhere if you’re just going to keep it to yourself. It will be unfair for him too and that’s not what you want. 

“I just don’t feel so good about myself over the past few days,” you finally voice out. You sound weak, but Mingyu can hear you loud and clear. “I feel like I don’t deserve you.”

Mingyu had to pull away and hold your shoulders to search your eyes, his frown showing disbelief and sadness both at the same time. “Did I do or say something to make you feel this way?”

“No, no,” you quickly say and hold his cheeks. “You did absolutely nothing. It’s just all in my head.”

Mingyu becomes silent and you wish you could just drop it because the regret and embarrassment is slowly dawning upon you. You wish you didn’t bring it up anymore because why would you burden him with your problems? 

But Mingyu proves you wrong once again by holding your hand and carefully tugging you to sit on the dining table, saying softly, “Come on. Let’s talk about it.”

And talk you did. You let out your concerns, worries, fears and insecurities. You bore it all without hiding or masking anything. A tear or two slipped once or twice and some words were interrupted by your hiccups, but Mingyu was patient. He listened and held your hand, promising you that it’s okay. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to be worried. It’s okay to be vulnerable in front of him. It’s okay to trust him because he loves you. 

Mingyu loves you and his words and actions assure you that it’s okay to love him too. 

When there were no more words left to say, the two of you shared a comfortable silence. The weight on your shoulders and the sick feeling in your stomach immediately vanished and you have never felt so relieved. You have never felt so free and loved. You can’t believe that Kim Mingyu is real. 

“I know that this is unwarranted,” Mingyu breaks the silence after a while, “but I want you to know that I don’t think of you in any of those ways. To me, you’re the person I love and I am happy with regardless of our different upbringings, different jobs. Those don’t matter to the time and love we share together.”

“I know,” you affirm and kiss his cheek. 

Mingyu nods and smiles against the palm of your hand when a memory suddenly pops in his mind. “I’m not sure if I have told you this already. But the blog entry of yours that caught my attention is about your first ever blog post.”

Your eyes widen at his confession. You have never heard of this before. “You mean the one where I talked about why I love writing so much?”

Your boyfriend smiles and nods. “That one.”

“Gosh. That’s so embarrassing,” you groan and palm your face. 

“What do you mean embarrassing?” He argues, taking your hand to hold again. “That post was one of the most genuine posts that I have ever read. You explained, word by word, your passion, love and dedication to writing in the most honest way possible. Who wouldn’t be moved?”

You pout and unbeknownst to you, that makes his heart squeeze in adoration. 

“It’s not that special,” you mumble, eyes on your intertwined hands. 

“It is to me though.”

Mingyu’s eyes are dreamy and glossy as you meet them again and you could never be more in love. He holds your arms, coaxing you to stand up to straddle his lap. You giggle when he protectively wraps his arms around your waist. His nose scrunches when it grazes yours, but upon meeting his lips you feel it exhale a breath of relief.

You kissed and kissed and kissed. But when Max barks at the two of you, reminding you of the dinner you’re supposed to eat and share with him, the two of you burst into laughter before reluctantly detaching from each other. 

“You doting over me with material things is a perk,” you humor him and he gives you his signature giggle. “But, I wouldn’t trade sharing the same bed, cooking meals or taking care of Max together over any of those.” 

Mingyu nods gives you one last yet long kiss, a promise that there’s more for later. 

More for forever. 

---

a/n 2: this was supposed to be the header/poster of this story but it was too big lol

[talesofstyles]

Good Morning Indeed

absolutely no plot whatsoever, just a bit of husband and dad harry in the midst of the family’s morning chaos 😂

Harry

“Go get the condom on.”

“I’ll pull out, I promise.”

“Your pull out game is weak.”

“Oi, them’s fightin’ words.”

“There’s a reason we’ve got six kids.” Says the missus with a roll of those pretty—but sometimes deadly (please don’t tell her I said this)—eyes. “‘Sides, I’ve just changed the sheets yesterday. You are not coming on the sodding sheets.”

“Fine,” I sigh and reach down to the bedside table. Why is the drawer filled with sodding Duplo and those tiny, pricey Sylvanian Family bunnies? I’m guessing kid number two, three and four have something to do with that. A few more seconds of rummaging before I finally found my treasure in the very back of the drawer. I lay on my back as I sheath myself up, and seeing as I’m already here… might as well, right? I smirk at her as I say, “hop on then.”

“Fat chance that,” she mutters. “Do I have to take off my top?”

“Nah,” I shake my head, it’s cold, and I’m a considerate husband. “A flash will do. Just give me a visual.”

She rolls up my shirt that she wears to sleep, a really old white rolling stones t-shirt that has two holes and a loose thread hanging on for dear life from the hem. She looks homeless. Gorgeous homeless though. 

“Nice,” I flash her a boyish grin, like a teenage boy seeing his first pair of tits. “You’ve got great racks.”

“You’re just saying that…”

I know what she sees when she looks at herself in the mirror and I wish she could look at herself through my eyes. 

“Hey, don’t you dare. My babies grew in that body, that’s everything.”

Her tender smile hits me right in the gut. “I love you.”

“Love me enough to ride me?” I say with a playful flick to one nipple.

“Nice try.”

“I love you,” I mutter near her mouth and give her a searing kiss. I run my tongue over her bottom lip, then I kiss her down her neck, her cleavage and her breasts. I slowly circle one nipple, and she giggles, knowing it’s a well-rehearsed move that is guaranteed to do what’s needed. See, her tits are kind of like start buttons. No matter the situation, a little attention to those bad boys switches things around real quick. Her head slams back against the pillow. And she moans, holding my head in place.

We’ve got ignition lads. 

I nestle my body on top of hers, and there’s a bit of wayward angling and poking until I find my way inside of her. And then it’s on. Two bodies writhing on the bed. My hips rotate in long, slow circles.

“Bollocks!”

“What? The condom isn’t broken, is it?”

“No, it’s bin day. I forgot to take out the recycling bin.”

“S’fine, we’ve got time before the school run.”

The bin’s sorted, back to the shag…

I slide my hands under her, bringing us closer. Rocking us faster. My forehead hovers close to hers and I open my eyes so I can watch. What can I say? I’m greedy like that. I want to soak up every gasp, every flicker of pleasure across her face. Pleasure I’m giving her.

Her breathing changes. It turns panting and desperate, and I know she’s close. I move harder, grinding against her, inside her, with every forward push. Warms sparks tickle my spine and heat spreads down until every nerve in my body is shaking. I slam inside her, burying deep as her hips jerk upward. She spasms hard around me, gripping me tight. 

I rock back my hips and pull almost all the way out, but then I freeze. Because a dreaded sound echoes across the room, grabbing our full attention. It’s coming from the baby monitor. It’s a rustling, the sound of cotton rubbing cotton. Like snipers in the jungle, we don’t move a muscle. We don’t say a word. We wait, until the rustling stops. And all is quiet again. 

Too bad it’s not for long. Because two thrusts in, a light comes on in the landing. Followed by small footsteps heading down the stairs. Shit.

“Harry, just come already. They’ll all be up soon.”

“I’m close… don’t rush it, you’re scaring it away.” 

She grinds her hips. Also another well-rehearsed move that she knows will get me off. But I freeze again, because there’s a second set of footsteps and the sound of a toilet flushing. Oh, and the babies next door are starting to whimper. 

Great.

“I’M HUNGRY!” That’s James, darling little cockblocker number four who likes to be fed on time. He’s three.

“WE’LL BE OUT IN A SECOND!” My wife shouts over my shoulder. “Harry for the love of god-”

I pick up the rhythm. Small beads of sweat form on my brow. She grinds her hips again, and I try to focus. “Just like that, fuck, keep doing that.”

“Sshh, keep your voice down.”

“IS THERE ANY BREAD THAT ISN’T 50/50?” That’s Eleanor, child number two. She’s seven, and she’s one of those children who seem to possess a discernible palate that knows when we’ve changed brands of baked beans or attempt to bring sugar-free fruit squash through the doors.

“IT’S THE SAME,” I reply.

“NO, IT’S NOT. DO WE HAVE OTHER FOOD?”

“THERE ARE SHREDDIES.”

“DON’T LIKE ‘EM.”

“PORRIDGE.”

“I’M NOT A BEAR!”

Honestly, seven-year-olds gunning for a fight this early in the morning can go do one.

The babies are starting to gather volume next door so I try to focus again. It only takes a few more thrusts before ecstasy wrecks my body, making me shudder. I press my lips against her neck as I come back down to earth. But I don’t move yet. I know we should get going because things are already chaotic outside our door, but I just don’t have the will yet. I’m considering going back to sleep for a minute or two. She won’t mind, will she? Well, I’m wrong. Because she proceeds to perform the move that seems to amuse every sodding woman on earth. And causes every man to squeal like a bloody pig. Without warning, she uses her powerful muscle to squeeze my extremely sensitive cock. 

Girls, grab a piece of paper and write this down. I’m speaking on behalf of every man to walk on earth here; we hate that. We don’t think it’s funny.

I jerk back, pull out, and roll off her. I try to look annoyed as she giggles, and obviously I fail, because that freshly fucked, flushed-face makes it impossible not to grin back.

“CAN I HAVE JAFFA CAKE?” That’s Victoria, child number three. She’s five, and she’s yelling as she thunders up the stairs. 

“JAFFA CAKE ISN’T BREAKFAST,” my wife shouts back as she sits up and hands me a nappy sack. “Harry…”

I wrap up the condom with it and toss it to the bin. “You’ve just taken me life force, woman, give me a moment.”

“CUSTARD CREAM?”

“NO.” We shout in unison. 

“HOBNOB THEN?”

“STAY AWAY FROM THE BISCUIT TIN!”

“You want to wrestle a biscuit-hunting kid out of a cupboard and 50/50 bread drama or fussy babies with full nappies?”

“Babies.” I hear a small child get whacked by a sibling downstairs and I feel like I may have got the better deal here.

Next door, the twins are not happy. They’re six months old now, and they’re both teething. Thing one glares at me as I walk into their nursery and thing two stares at me stroppily from the corner of her cot. Their cheeks are scarlet, and thing one proceeds to bark at me like a seal. I pick his warm, sleepy, cuddly body and cradle it close to mine as I lay him down on the changing table. I smell the dampness. It’s definitely wee. He’s soaked through, I think I didn’t tuck his willy in when I last changed him around three in the morning so it sprayed in some upward motion and drenched his clothes. See, this is why girls are better than boys. There’s no way they can pee upwards. 

After I put a fresh nappy and a change of clothes, I put him down on the rug so he can wiggle around while I grab his sister and sort her out. After six kids, I’m definitely a pro with baby duty and can practically change their clothes one-handed. The whole thing takes only a few minutes.

I cuddle the babies on each side as I walk downstairs and into the kitchen. They immediately reach out to their mum who’s cracking some eggs as soon as they spot her, knowing she’s the only one who can cure their hunger this morning. 

“Uniforms!” She says to the big kids as she takes one baby into her arms. “We’ll do breakfast after. Please, please, please…”

Desperate pleas lead them to saunter out and up the stairs. I follow my wife into the living room and hand her the other baby as she plops down on the couch. She rolls up her shirt and the babies latch instantly. Tandem nursing is harder now that they’re a little older and aware of their surroundings. They’re trying to scratch each other’s faces as they nurse. “Oi, what’s this? You each get a tit, stop fighting.”

They seem to somehow listen to me and have stopped trying to poke each other’s eyeballs. We’ll see how long that lasts. “Finish the eggs?”

I nod. “I’m on it.”

I brew some coffee, finish the scrambled eggs, and pop the slices after slices of bread in the toaster. Breakfast is done just in time as my wife walks back into the kitchen with two full and happy babies. She puts them in their high chairs and I scoop a bit of eggs on each of their trays for them to nibble on.

George appears back in the kitchen clad in his uniform with his also dressed brother trailing behind. We always lay his clothes the night before on his bed and he gets dressed all by himself in the morning. And he’s getting better at it, seeing he only missed a button on his shirt.

“Hi mate,” I say as I fix his button and he flashes a toothy grin at me. I plop him down on the chair, he’s graduated from the high chair now but still uses a booster seat.

“No toast!”

“What do you want then?”

“Chee-yos?”

I nod before I grab a handful of cheerios and set them on his plate next to his eggs. Then I take a few steps back across the table. “Hey, James, set it up.”

He flashes me another toothy grin before he opens his mouth wide and keeps it open. I hold a single Cheerio between my fingers while I bend my knees and bounce my hand as if I were dribbling a basketball. “Three seconds left on the clock, down by one. Styles got the ball. He fakes left, he drives in, he shoots…”

I toss the Cheerios in a high arc. It lands right into his mouth.

“He scores! The crowd goes wild!”

James holds both hands over his head. “Core!”

“Viv stole the biscuit tin, you know? She ate three jammie dodgers upstairs.” Eleanor says as she walks in with book bags and school shoes. 

George, seeing his sister walks in, proceeds to open his mouth wide and flashes her the half-chewed eggs on his tongue. It’s his current thing and it annoys his sisters to death. The young’uns think differently though as they double over in laughter. 

“Eeewww!” She shrieks. “You’re so gross!”

“VICTORIA, PUT THAT BISCUIT TIN DOWN AND GET YOUR BUTT IN THE KITCHEN! AND GO GET THEM HAIR TIE THINGIES…” 

“I didn’t have any biscuits!” She yells and runs down the stairs.

This kid is the quintessential daddy’s girl. She climbs up onto my lap right away, handing me the brush and a hair tie. 

“See, poppet, I would’ve believed you if you didn’t leave evidence all over your face,” I arch one of my eyebrows as I sweep a speck of raspberry jam on the corner of her mouth. 

“You always do a ponytail,” she huffs.

“Either that or I give you a bowl cut with kitchen scissors. I reckon that fruit bowl will do. Your choice.”

“Can I have some more eggs?” George asks with his mouth full of his last bite.

“God, that’s like your third serving,” Eleanor grumbles.

“Nag.”

At that insult, Eleanor flings a piece of toast like a ninja. Before George can retaliate, my wife gives them both the look.

“Viv, will you at least have some eggs?”

“No.”

“Fine,” my wife sighs. “I’m gonna get changed then.”

I glance at the clock and, well, shit, I should get dressed too. “Can you lot watch the babies and try not to kill each other for the next five minutes?”

“Five quid each?” Eleanor tries to negotiate. “Babysitting isn’t supposed to be free, you know? That sounds like child labour to me.” 

Bollocks. 

“Two quid each,” I give her my dad look that says the offer is final and indisputable.

“Deal.”

[bemused-writer]

VNC Chapter 54 Analysis

Whew! It has been a bit since our regularly scheduled meta. 8D A quick life update before we get into it: I'm currently in the midst of switching careers (in other words, job searching, interviewing, etc. etc.) and that is consuming the bulk of my time and thought, so expect further delays on this front, but know they will come all the same. I love writing the meta (and the fic) as you guys know. (^^) With that out of the way, let's take a look at this chapter because things sure happened in it. Honestly, it's kind of everything I could have hoped for. :D Namely, a theory I had going was confirmed.

And that theory is that Misha was not exactly being sincere about wanting to know Vanitas's memories. Sure, he probably would like to know, but his main goal was Noé's death.

He continues saying "You know I'm all you need! You'd be fine without that guy!" So, Misha is fully admitting his motives were incredibly selfish but in a different way than he presented to Noé. Previously he'd made it seem as though all he needed was closure. He just needed to know why Vanitas killed Luna! A self-serving purpose, but sympathetic all the same. The reality is that Misha is incredibly jealous; he wants to keep Vanitas all to himself and can't bear to share him with anyone else.

Furthermore, he cannot fathom what it is about Noé that has Vanitas doing so much for him. At this point, it's unclear how much Misha knows about their relationship, but he definitely knows they're working together and knows they're close (which is half the problem in his estimation). He figured Noé was the main thing preventing Vanitas from rejoining his perfect family. Of course, we know that isn't remotely the case even though we don't know why Vanitas killed Luna, but Misha is in denial about a lot of things, not least of which is this.

Throughout Misha's tirade it seems that Vanitas is maintaining some consciousness, though just barely. I'd guess he's going in and out of consciousness, but Mochizuki went out of her way to show he at least heard Misha's reasoning, i.e. that Vanitas shouldn't need Noé because he has him.

Now, speaking of theories I've had, one of them was proven wrong in this chapter as well, although it makes things more interesting: Dominique is not a curse bearer. We also have it proven that this isn't Louis, but another side of Dominique herself. Note that Louis's mole is missing, thus proving it's her:

As for why she's saying "our" name, I think this is just a grammar thing to be honest. (^^)" There are technically "two" people there even though they're one and the same. But these different reflections of Dominique are quite interesting. Here's what she has to say about this one:

I think at this point it's safe to say that Dominique's more "feminine" side is what she's equating to weakness and her more "masculine" side is what she sees as her strength. The problem she's running into is that she's separating her own personality into chunks, which has caused a rift within herself. Misha was able to take advantage of her because she was stamping out all of her doubt and sorrow and, perhaps most importantly, her past as a more unsure, innocent individual. But that's how she got to where she is today; she can't ignore that past much as she'd like to. I think that for Dominique she'll know real peace once she's reconciled these two aspects of her personality and found that they're ultimately one and the same.

Of course, her issues with Noé need to be addressed as well. Already she's seen that killing herself solves nothing. Noé cares for her and she wouldn't make life easier for him by removing herself from the equation. I think she has to confront there's a certain selfishness in trying to determine what would or wouldn't make Noé happy without talking to him as well, which I suspect will be discussed later in this arc. But most importantly, Dominique needs to learn to value her own life for herself and to prioritize herself for a change. I'm not sure that's something we're going to get around to this arc (baby steps and all), but I feel like she's slowly starting to get there. Right now, she's valuing herself only in terms of Noé caring about her and needing her. She's still prioritizing his feelings over her own and that's the biggest thing that needs to change.

As for Noé, he's only just realizing any of this, so a substantial part of this arc for him will no doubt be him coming to terms with how Dominique actually feels, not just for him but for herself, too. He's also going to have to deal with Vanitas and the fact that Vanitas still didn't offer to help Dominique (that is a problem that hasn't actually been addressed whatsoever yet) and the fact that Noé immediately became the thing Vanitas feared most in an effort to protect her.

This could possibly lead to Noé realizing two things: how much he cares for Dominique and how much he cares for Vanitas. The latter is already in motion. The former has been in motion for years, so it's really a matter of what tone it takes later this arc. Will Noé realize he shares the same feelings for Dominique that she has for him? Or will he realize that he hasn't been as good of a friend to her as he'd hoped? Very curious to see how that progresses.

As for Misha, well, he's taking everything very badly. XD As I've said many times, his plan was actually terrible and the whole thing has, indeed, backfired on him spectacularly. Even the book has backfired on him!

It's honestly kind of hilarious. Now, getting to Misha's abilities, he admits he can't alter a vampire's name, he can simply manipulate them for a time. I think that's what the random vampiric zombie horde is supposed to be: vampires he has manipulated to work for him. And yet, I'm puzzled. It's been heavily implied that Dominique attacked other vampires as a curse bearer, except we now know she isn't actually a curse bearer, so what was she doing? Was she spreading Misha's influence somehow? The vampires all have blood about their lips much as Dominique did when she stumbled back to Misha.

Visually, the dark matter coming out of Misha's book actually look likes blood, doesn't it? We haven't heard of the book being able to manipulate blood, but I find myself wondering if that's what he's doing. Might explain the zombie vibes of his horde. XD Regardless, blood seems involved somehow even if it merely represents the damage his book has done to those he controls.

I suppose we'll find out next chapter! I'm looking forward to seeing more zombies and Misha's abilities continually backfiring on him. I can't imagine Dominique and Jeanne will continue to fight each other seeing as Dominique has her independence back, but the two will definitely need to talk over some things. Ahh, there's going to be a lot of talking this arc; I really can't wait. :D

[archived-kin]

to save or sacrifice

this isn’t formatted like my usual writing posts since i don’t think it’s really long enough to qualify as one - i just wanted to post something real quick in the middle of this break i’ve taking

anyway remember all those theories that there was gonna be a point in windblume or the next archon quest where we have to decide beside sacrificing mondstadt to save venti or sacrificing venti to save mondstadt??? at the time of writing that hasn't happened but i thought i’d have a go at writing a little snippet of what might happen

i also made up this entire thing so if the ‘choose between venti and mondstadt’ thing does end up happening, this has nothing to do with it

pairing(s): venti/gn! reader

warning(s): description of blood/severe injury, mentioned death/depiction of corpses, general sad hours

Things were never meant to turn out this way.

It had just been a trip out of the city to take in the views from the peaks of Cape Oath and Starsnatch Cliff. It was meant to be opportunity to relax, to take a break from the constant hustle and bustle of commissions and bounties and everything else in between. Hand in hand with your lover, the two of you had enjoyed a long walk in the wilderness, wandering off the path and getting lost here and there, but never minding because you had each other’s company…

And now you stand in the middle of a ruined city, and the sky is falling.

There are bodies in the streets - bodies of people you do and don’t recognise, some maimed beyond recognition and some lying in such perfect repose that they might simply be sleeping among the rubble. Your city has been razed to the ground, houses burnt to ashes, until you can’t even recognise your own home.

Your chest is tight, legs aching as you run through the streets, searching for someone, anyone still alive, hoping against all hopes that your friends are safe somewhere. In the distance, you can see the hands of the Archon statue in the city plaza amongst the smoke and dust, raised high as if trying to catch the plummeting heavens.

Venti’s hand is in yours, squeezing tight as he sprints alongside you, his breaths coming in short, sharp bursts that disappear into the howling wind as soon as they come. He flinches at every body he passes, recoils at each ruined building, until he’s gasping for air through heaving sobs, but he refuses to stop moving, clinging onto the same hope as you do.

The two of you are adrift in an ocean in the midst of a storm, and this is the only way you can keep afloat.

You come to a stop in the plaza, staring up at the Archon statue’s blank face, eyes closed in repose even as its city burns around it. The smooth stone is untouched by ash or blood - and a painfully familiar figure stands in front of it.

“Good afternoon,” He says cheerfully, as if you’re simply a friend that he’s meeting for a stroll. “How nice of you to join me.”

“Kaeya,” You whisper, and the very wind around you seems to quieten at the name. He raises an eyebrow, smiling blankly. “Why…?”

“I am the last hope,” He answers flatly. “No stone can be left unturned.”

He reaches up to his eyepatch and pulls it away from his face, tossing it aside carelessly. You feel Venti tense beside you, squeezing your hand so tightly that it hurts. Slowly, surely, Kaeya opens his left eye.

Blue. Deep, shimmering blue flecked with gold - something beyond a Vision, beyond a Gnosis, beyond anything you could imagine. This is the power of the Abyss, the power of the deep, endless nothingness, the darkness that swallows the light at the end of the tunnel.

Kaeya looks at you, at the tears coursing down your face, at the way your body trembles, and gives a single, short laugh. “You know what you’ll have to do, don’t you?”

You stare at him. He turns and, without another word, walks away.

A moment later, Venti’s knees buckle beneath him, and you turn to catch him as he sinks to the floor. His arms wrap around your torso in a desperate embrace, his body shaking with barely held-back sobs against yours.

“My city,” He gasps, voice breaking. “My people.”

You gently pull him closer and set your chin on his head, not saying anything in reply. The smell of smoke on the wind is getting stronger.

Venti raises his head and meets your gaze with wide, haunted eyes. The expression on his face is one you’ll never forget for the rest of your days.

“You know what you’ll have to do, don’t you?” Kaeya’s words echo in your mind. You’ve known for a long time now. You know what’s happening, no matter how desperately you try to deny it, and it is your fault for not warning everyone of what was to come, your fault that the city has fallen, your fault that so many lives have been lost—

“[Name],” Venti whispers, face crumpled, “I don’t want to die.”

—and perhaps it will be your fault that the city will never be rebuilt.

The storm wails around you. Mondstadt is falling.

What choice will you make?

[damerondala]

Suture Up Your Future

i was watching reservoir dogs last night and that scene in the beginning with mr. orange is so intense i wanted to write some bad batch AnGst that mirrors it (and yes, the title is a queens of the stone age song, im really just snatching ideas from everybody huh lol). im also not too knowledgeable about trauma wounds like this and how to patch them up, but i did my best so pls be nice lmao im a sensitive bitch

Pairing: Platonic Bad Batch x Gender Neutral Reader / Platonic Tech x Gender Neutral Reader 

Warnings: adult dialogue, severe wounds and blood loss, wound suturing, sad batch ™ but with a happy ending! yay! 

Word Count: approx. 1.4k 

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

“Say it for me, Tech.” You were met with an agonistic cry instead of the words you needed the trooper to say. Not only to reassure himself, but you as well. “Say it,” you nearly screamed while he lay there bleeding out, “You’re going to be okay, fucking say it. You’re going to be okay.” 

“I,” a sharp intake of breath made his chest heave and a new wave of fresh blood come out of his gaping wound, covering your hands in the warm substance, “‘m guh be oh-okay.” 

“There we go, come on Tech, come on buddy breathe for me.” 

~

Nothing was out of the ordinary when you woke up that day. Hunter asked if you wanted to stay on the Marauder while he, Tech, and Crosshair went on a supply run. Hunter sang his reassurances to you, fully knowing you had a point when you reminded him that this planet was not the most welcoming place for outsiders. Especially the army of the Republic. But Hunter made sure they had civilian clothing to disguise themselves; this was the closest planet you all could get to at the moment, with the little fuel you had, after all. “In and out, just like that,” the sergeant cooed with a snap of his fingers to enunciate the last word of his promise. 

Echo, Wrecker, and yourself gave your best wishes to the group, then retreated back to the hull of the beloved ship. Echo toying with a new prosthetic he and Tech had been working on, Wrecker subjecting poor Gonky to yet another workout, and you occupied yourself with some tidying up. Maker knows that five busy soldiers plus one even busier medic, patching up said soldiers on a regular basis, equaled a filthy ship that was in dire need of some elbow grease. 

What none of you had expected however, was the very early return of the three bad batchers, one of them being supported by the other two. Barely able to walk and blood leaking out of his abdomen. 

Panic set in your gut upon the sight. Wrecker and Echo already in front of you, screaming their concerns and questions while you scrambled back into the ship to clear the table that was littered with empty dishes and Tech’s projects, then sprinting to your medkit to snag the supplies you’d need to treat a wound such as this. Returning to the table just as Wrecker set his vod down on the flat surface that, might you add, was much too small for his six-four frame and much too dirty for the situation at hand, but would have to do. Considering the severity of the scene before you. Tech had an enormous gash — you guessed from some sort of large knife — that ran from the bottom of his left ribs all the way to the front of his abdomen, ending just above his bellybutton. 

“Fucking bounty hunters,” Crosshair growled from behind you but you couldn’t afford to pay him any mind, Tech was damn near about to bleed to death if you didn’t act quick. You could curse the people who did this to your friend later. “Echo, he’s going to need more blood. Get Wrecker hooked up to the blood draw.” You ordered while applying pressure to the gash, Tech’s blood slowing at the contact, but still steadily seeping through your fingers. Normally Wrecker would pout about being hooked up to a machine but the sight of his friend dancing with death made him move quicker than any of you had ever seen, ripping his shirt sleeve up so Echo could begin drawing blood. 

The scene felt like a dream. Well, more like a nightmare, one that never stopped no matter how badly you wished you could just wake up and it would all be over. Instead, you were sweating through your shirt, a few tears stained your cheeks, and you were fucking covered in blood; Tech’s blood, to make the matter even more chilling. Everything happened so fast, you desperately wished you had gone on the run instead of Tech. Maybe that way you could all be sitting around this table, playing cards and giggling at Echo and Wrecker’s bickering over who’s cheating by now. 

“What do you need me to do?” Hunter stepped to your side, prepared to do anything in order to save the youngest of the squad. “Get the gauze and alcohol out of my pack.” You threw your head in the direction of the stocked medpack sitting on the table near Tech’s legs. Hunter opened the bottle of antiseptic and handed it to you, Crosshair on the other side of the table taking the gauze from Hunter’s hand. Ready to stuff the wound in an attempt to slow the bleeding more until you could properly suture him up. Dumping the alcohol inside the gash caused Tech to gasp, eyebrows furrowing and body going taut at the pain you inflicted on him. You pleaded with him to relax and help you in reassuring himself that he would be fine. Both you and Hunter continuing the verbal comfort while Crosshair unraveled the pristine white gauze and began shoving it into Tech’s side, dying it crimson almost immediately. The pressure from both yours and Crosshair’s hands did a good job at stopping the blood loss, just enough so you could begin really cleaning him up and sewing his abdomen back together. Hunter helped with handing you the needle and thread and you began puncturing Tech’s skin and pulling the thread through the tissue. 

Cries and mumbles of curses came from Tech’s lips, his face paler than any of you had ever seen before. “Shhh…eh..it,” Tech groaned as you diligently worked at his stomach. You silently thanked whatever celestial  power that was out there for slowing down the blood flow to a much more manageable pace. Crosshair’s efforts clearly paid off, you mentally noted, as you watched his steady marksman hands slowly remove the gauze while you advanced with your stitching. 

“Blood transfusion is ready,” Echo suddenly appeared, ready to start replenishing the blood Tech had lost. “Just in time,” you managed a half-smile, not entirely sure of where it came from. But looking back, you think it was out of hope. 

Tech’s glazed eyes silently caught the way your mouth curled up and he was infinitely grateful for it. To him — and the other members of the squad — you were a beacon of light in the cruel and unforgiving war you all were in the midst of. It was easy to let the darkness and the violence consume them, but the second you joined their squad as their senior medic, there was that sudden sense of hope; you were something that made all of it even more worth it. 

The entire procedure of fixing up your friend honestly was a blur for the most part. One second they were dragging Tech’s limp and bloody body up the ramp, the next you all found yourselves slumped into chairs, over crates, hell, you were nearly passed out from exhaustion on the floor next to the table Tech was splayed out on. His wound clean and stitched to near perfection, and Wrecker’s blood slowly being pumped back into his veins, bringing that beautiful, healthy tan back to his features. 

Being so tired led you to neglect the dried blood all over your arms and shirt. In your haze, you remember Wrecker gently grasping your biceps and heaving you off the grimy ground, urging you to wash up and change. When you began to protest, the gentle giant rubbed up and down your arms in an effort to persuade you, “He’ll be fine, kid. You stitched him up real good. Plus, you know how queasy he gets with blood. He’d want you to get cleaned up.” Just as the final syllable left his mouth, you felt the soft cotton of your extra shirt being brushed against your forearm, Crosshair’s arm extended to you from his place on a ration crate with a nod in your direction. A silent way of showing you he agreed with his older brother — we got him, don’t worry. 

Your squad member’s wisdom proved to be true. Stepping out of the fresher in a new shirt sans sweat stains and blood, and your skin nice and clean, you were greeted with the sight of everybody crowding around their youngest vod still laying on the table. Weaseling your way in between Hunter and Echo, you found Tech awake. Albeit less sharp than he usually is, but still awake. Breathing. Fucking alive. The weight of dread that had been crushing your chest was suddenly gone, letting your lungs fully expand for the first time in hours. A soft hand found Tech’s cheek, the tips of your fingers accidentally bumping the edge of his goggles and another smile gracing your face, this one out of relief. 

“Told you you’d be okay.” 

[cloudninetonine]

Cogito, ergo sum

Pairing: Connor (RK800) x fem!reader (Eventually)

Summary: Humanity seems to be at the midst of a dawning of a new age and they’re using fire against fire to stop it. It’s a real shame for you that the fire is kinda cute.

A/N: Hi, so, there is no reason for this except that I was hit with the urge to rewatch D:BH and fell in love with Connor again so I wanted to write out my feelings. If people want more please tell me because I don’t want to write a fic that no one even likes.

Also, notes for future readers. I tend to lean towards a British reader, because I myself am British and find it easier to write like that, I don’t understand America one single bit so you bet your arse there are going to be inaccuracies that will make Americans cringe. Still hope you enjoy it tho.

Warnings: Bad language (That’s it, for now)

Undercut for convience

"What's up fuckers!?"

Connor’s gaze is still focused on Hank’s as the older man’s demeanor shifts, with a small quirk of his lips resembling something similar to a smile and rolling his eyes, he glances towards the entrance of the department and from what the android could see, many others did also, most sharing similar expressions of exasperated amusement while some just looked downright tired.

He’s quick to follow the many stares of his new colleagues, turning in his seat to get a look at the figure who literally seems to roll into the room, a box of donuts within their hands.

Det. (Last) (Name)

DOB: (MM/DD/2002) // Police Det.

Criminal records: N/A

It’s on instinct that he scans you, it’s part of his protocol after all, so he makes sure to scan every part of you, his LED flashing a concentrating yellow as the information falls in.

It stops, however, when he notices one of your arms. He doesn’t miss it, of course he doesn’t, he’s way too clever for that, but he does marvel, because he notices that it’s not human skin that decorates the limb, but synthetic like his own and he finds himself scanning deeper-

"I've downed three cans of Monster Energy and I'm ready to fight God!"

‘What an odd thing to declare’ is what pops into Connor's mind, interrupting his own little investigation in favour of narrowing his eyes quizzically towards your approaching form that has your own eyes focused on his partner sat across from him, an almost sadistic grin plastered on your face.

It is a sadistic one, of course, Hank knows that, you know that, the whole department knows it. You’ve always seemed to show a more malicious glee with him, like a bratty child with their parents, like a moth to a flame. If anything, he expects his day to get about 2x more painful than he needs, as shown with that stupid hunk of metal sitting across from him and he knows you’re going to enjoy every single second of it.

God save his fucking soul.

You stop just a few inches away from Hank's desk with a smile almost blinding bright, kicking in your heelys like you had done millions of times previously before bowing towards the older man, box held out towards him.

"Donut, my liege?"

He easily picks out his favourite, a famous Homer donut decorated with pink icing and multi-colour sprinkles, quitely grunting out "Thanks" as he bites down onto the treat, turning back to the computer screen.

But maybe, just maybe, your focus will be shifted today.

"But of course" Then, turning towards Connor, still bowed at the hip, you speak again "And one for you, my good sir?"

It took Connor a moment to realise, despite it being quite obvious, that you’re talking to him and his LED flashes a vibrant red when he finally opens his mouth to speak, politeness lacing his tone.

"Thank you, but I don't need to eat"

The phrase stumps you, because, well, why wouldn't someone not need to eat, so you raise your head "What-"

And you get your answer.

And Hank gets his relief for the moment.

It takes what Connor counted was a single second for your face to change from confusion to utter delight, a gasp followed by cry of what he decided was excitement at the sight of him, dropping the donut box altogether and resulting in Hank cussing up a storm when they nearly came tumbling out onto his desk.

"(Name), be careful, for fucks sake!"

But you’re not listening, no, why would you be listening to the old geezer? Instead, your hands are tightly grasping the sides of the android's face, tugging his head gently in different directions as to study him, your eyes bright with a spark of joy.

It was odd, no one had ever looked at him like that.

Software instability.

"Jesus Christ, woman, stop being fucking weird" Hank mutters off with a growl, watching the scene with an obvious look of irritation, "Just an android, we see 'em every fucking day"

"But a new model!" You cry, words were aimed towards Connor more than anything as you finally pulled away, although, quickly you raced to the desk opposite to him, rolling over a desk chair- your desk chair and collapsing onto it with a smile, resting your head in your hands, memorised. "I've never seen your handsome face before, stranger"

Hank physically gags.

"Hello, detective" Connor parrots his line, his phrase and of course slips in your rank because he had obviously been scanning you since you appeared in his line of vision. He already knows a majority about you and you don't even know his name, nevermind model.

It's just so amazing.

"My name is Connor. I am the android sent by Cyberlife." You're pretty sure the smile he gives you is akin to a murderer more than a friend "It's nice to meet you, officially"

Your hand comes up, pinching the synthetic skin of his cheek.

What a puppy, such an adorable boy, he looks so confused, eyes focused on the fingers keeping his fake skin hostage while you coo at him unprofessionally, Hank close to grabbing the gun from his jacket and shooting you right where you sat.

"You are just adorable, Connor"

After a moment, Connor finally reacts, hand reaching up to grasp yours and pull it away gently "Thank you, detective"

"Please, you can just call me (Name)" The smirk slides on easy, as does the wink you send him "Hope you don't mind if I call you handsome, do you?"

If Connor had learned anything about you from these first few minutes, it's that he doesn't truly understand you at all. You're flamboyant, that much is obvious, but your flamboyance leaves nothing but a screen blocking what you're really like, leaving Connor stumped on what you might do next.

That's what he concludes when instead of answering, or staying silent, he stumbles over his words and watches when you laugh, leaning over to grab a donut from the box.

What an interesting character you are.

Interesting indeed.

“(Name)!” At the sound of Fowler’s voice, you turn with a still ever-so-friendly grin and a call of ‘Boss!’, jumping from you seat. Crumbs of donut fall from your mouth and you swallow, only to hack up a storm straight after.

Fowler scowls “My office, now”

You throw the duo a wink before skipping over to the captain’s office.

“Don’t mind her” Hank finally speaks and it grabs Connor’s attention, the android shifting his gaze from your form to his partner’s, the old man reaching for another donut. “She’s nuts”

“She seems....” His database searches for the word “pleasant”

“If you think that you must be fucking broken, stupid android”

It’s only after 10 minutes you return, a grin so wide Hank’s near damn sure it’s going to split your face into two while Connor tilts his head, like a puppy, an oh so cute puppy.

“Guess who’s partnership just became a trio?”

“....Mother fucker-”

[gogosingularity]

BTS. Tarot 04

PSA. I wrapped this post while listening to 0X1=LOVESONG (I Know I Love You) by TXT featuring MOD SUN. In case you are interested.

Well, I am back.

To talk about ‘BTS Tarot’, again.

I still read everything under ‘BTS Tarot’ tags because it’s fun and enticing.

I see people point out the problems with BTS Tarot sporadically.

I see people frustrated by BTS Tarot and still coming back.

I see people creating new blogs to post their BTS readings excitedly.

I see people discontinue the blogs due to there’s nothing they can share anymore, lack of engagement, unwanted aggression, and getting busier with their life which I consider as a great personal development.

I ‘see’ readers came from various background and it shows both implicit and explicitly in their posts, if not they already put it on their description blog.

It’s called ‘people’ because they are real human behind the posts.

I thought BTS. Tarot 03 will be my last post about BTS Tarot. Nope. I still have something to share about BTS Tarot. I have put everything in BTS Tarot. 01, 02, and 03. In this post, I re-paraphrase them and want to emphasize certain case and provide options on what you can do about it.

I want to break down what I learnt from BTS Tarot, but I don’t think I have enough materials to do it yet.

So, this post is for people who are trustfrated by BTS Tarot, not feeling satisfied with the readings, and consider it immoral. Whether you’re active type (send anonymous ask, send ask, interact with the readers) or passive type (liked favorite posts, only reading the posts, and never interact with anyone).

The quick solution is, go outside and touch some grass. But some of you wouldn’t like that tone as it sounds too direct.

Let’s make it smoother by understanding what happened to you? First, understand and define what you feel about BTS Tarot. If it BTS Tarot frustrate you, why do you think you feel that way?

Continue reading only after you can define what you feel about it and what frustrate you.

But if you won’t, if you can’t define it yet, it’s also fine.

What might have happened to you is being attached to them both conscious and unconsciously. It’s easier to manage your conscious emotion, and definitely harder to manage the unconscious one.

There might be many other reasons as well. To write down every reasons will require their own essay.. and I can’t accommodate them all.

Do you ever feel the realization when you stop thinking about your bias for a moment? Your favorite idol/s? When you realize you suddenly stop making scenarios in your head about them for some time?

While busy interacting with your schoolmate doing group homework, you found yourself not thinking about your bias for some minutes, you forgot they exist despite you think of them so much when you have free time or alone, and how liberating that is to you. To forget about your bias for a moment.

Or when you’re busy in a meeting at your workplace, you have that moment in the midst of busy and noisy meeting, your mind suddenly speak louder and that thought of realization suddenly came in. That you haven’t thought about your bias for some minutes. And again, how liberating that is to you.

Again, there can be many reasons behind it. But if you can find this post, it means you’re active on social media. You might not like what I’d recommend, but, you have to at least check on yourself sometimes:

Evaluate your habits on social media. Then do something about it.

It is something you have to do individually, figure it out yourself, be responsible with and for yourself.

There are few recommendations you can apply for yourself, that I have tried from this article.

1. Identify your purpose for going online

2. Allocate time for using social media

3. Personalize your feed

4. Fact check

5. Reach out

1. Identify your purpose for going online

Yeah. It’s difficult, almost impossible. I’d rather fight zombie than making sure my online activities is on track. It’s a daily struggles for many of us. The first step you can do is to make list of things you have to do online. Prioritize from the most to least important. Let me bold them. I myself might need them anytime.

This will still be impossible if you don’t even make effort to put the right mind in yourself.

Like if you want to check what’s with BTS Tarot today, promise to not get carried away emotionally by what you found.

2. Allocate time for using social media

I AM NOT KIDS! I KNOW WHAT I AM DOING! Who said this recommendation only applicable for kids? You think after becoming adult, you’re risk-free from using social media carelessly? You think you have learnt enough from internet? But have you practiced to manage your social media time allocation?

This can be applied for both general and specific reasons.

It’s common to get distracted by social media. Sometimes you have prioritized to do your homework/work that require internet, but as soon as your laptop turned on, suddenly you want to jump to your favorite social media like it’s your muscle memory who did that. Sure, but you still have to allocate time for using social media well.

3. Personalize your feed

You don’t follow BTS Tarot and still manage to read everyone’s post. That’s your battle. My battle too, in general. Haha. But overall, it’s necessary to personalize your feed. If the purpose is to foster a healthy social media usage, this recommendation is necessary.

And it’s okay to have a cheat day (?). A term people use related to diet. It’s okay to browse and read whatever on internet mindlessly sometimes while still make sure to not hurt yourself over things that don’t really need to be stressed about and can actually be prevented.

4. Fact check

Critical thinking is important. I take BTS Tarot readings as opinion. It’s not the truth, it’s not real, it didn’t happen as what some readers have already put in their disclaimer to ‘take it with a grain of salt’… and what if it becomes real?

Well. If it becomes real, what will you gain? Why is it matter to you?

5. Reach out

Make sure to have someone you can talk to about what troubles you comfortably. If you don’t feel like have someone you need or trust, reach more.

And, that’s it. For closing, just do it.

[honeysorwell]

(a very unprofessional) game changer

Pairing: Audrey Tidall x fem!Reader x Diane Sherman

Summary: Audrey Tidall ends up conquering the role of the protagonist in the expected film that marks the great director and screenwriter Diane Sherman return to the film market, Run, that the blonde one desired really much. The filmmaker has only managed to return now since she left her job almost twenty years ago to take care of her daughter. She has no real plans other than finishing the film that will mark her return, but her nonpeaceful coexistence with Audrey during the filming, along with the loneliness that consumes her personal life ends up instigating an unexpected affection - and that grows every day - for Y/N, the costume designer for Run.

What Diane did not expect, when giving Y/N anonymously flowers during the recording months, is that the costume designer has been in a secret relationship for more than months with Audrey. However, the feeling of indifference and disdain that the director feels for the actress gradually dies after a heated argument between the two, leaving an unnamed tension in the air, while Y/N searches for her secret admirer with her girlfriend.

[gif by @sapphiclesbian​ ]

[gif by @cherry-jimin] 

A/N: I was extremely surprised when I posted You rush into my life, stay a little while (I know that we can have it all), and in less than a month I got +50likes (after all I barely know how to use tumblr and I discovered these days how and where to look at the followers that I have lol). And thanks to that, I will use (a very unprofessional) game changer as a social experiment, to see if you guys really like what I write, and if the answer is also positive, I will open requests to write things in my free time. And yes, my first language is not English so maybe something might sound strange.

I had this idea as soon as Run was released, thanks to Diane's passion for films... And since Audrey is an actress, I thought it would be good to combine these two...

I can say that this is a big AU because Diane is a lovely mother, and no one from Roanoke dies (because I don't have time to develop any of this shit).

Hope you all like it!

Synopsis of the story + Chapter 1 ,  Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 (final one)

Chapter 1

Chapter’s summary: Audrey and Y/N get to know each other thanks to Diane, and even though they are about to start recording Run, they decide that it is worthwhile to continue with their relationship. Even if secretly.

Warnings: In this chapter at least, none. Just implicit mentions of smut, it's not really something!  

Word Count: 1,2k

In theory, when someone wins an award as important as The Saturn, their career between movies becomes more likely to invitations to productions. Films, miniseries, or even theatrical productions. But that didn't happen with Audrey.

There was a voice in her head that said it was thanks to her age. But since none of the actors in Roanoke's cast, especially women, were so different in this aspect, Audrey continued to ignore that voice.

Everything was relatively ready for the British woman to participate in Return to Roanoke: Three Days in Hell, however after her breakup with Rory, the blonde one preferred to focus on something new. She quickly fell in love with him, but when the red-haired man asked about marriage, everything was clear to Audrey. Their paths and thoughts were so different, even with the significant feeling between them, that it was better to break their love relationship before their friendship was affected. And this was what she did.

It was audacious. Refuse a proposal for the same program that gave her fame and awards, to audition for a new film that she barely knew would happen. Some people would call her crazy, but the email she received from her agent was enough to give her courage.

Or rather, four words from that email. Directed by Diane Sherman was what caught her attention and prompted her to try to venture out to take the test.

She can still remember. Years ago, while she was still fighting for a minor role in any theatrical production in England, Diane Sherman was already acclaimed worldwide for the grandiose films with unexpected endings that she produced, even at a young age.

All the films of the woman with a reddish tone between her brunette hair strands became hits. But in the midst of it all, Diane decided to take a break from her career, and less than five months later, a pregnancy was announced.

After that, twenty years passed and no film was released, no interview, no magazine cover. Such a gloriously famous woman disappeared from everyone's view with her baby. But only up to now.

That test was probably the one that tired Audrey the most in her entire career. To portray in a few minutes the pain of the life of a woman who is obsessed with her daughter to the point of making her sick was difficult. But she did, and so, while her former co-stars were locking themselves up in a seemingly haunted mansion, she was getting a call from her agent saying that she got the lead role.

Everything worked well when the blonde received her script and started working with Diane on how they would like this character to be seen by the audience, but as the conversations flowed, Audrey understood why all of the woman's films were such a success. She was a perfectionist and her authority was clear.

Everything needed to be perfect. Including the costume.

And so Audrey met Y/N. A beautiful costume designer with so much talent to spare to the world.

The first time they saw each other, Diane was not present, after all, it was just a date to take Audrey's body measurements. As the story was about a housewife, movable and comfortable clothes had to be designed, which did not force Audrey to strip naked to have her measurements known by Y/N, even if an unprofessional part of her wanted to.

Quick encounters followed, some with Diane briefly present, just to define new color palettes or to approve and disapprove something. The director never stayed more than twenty minutes with the two women, but thanks to Y/N's perseverance, in producing everything exactly as Diane wished, and Audrey's free time, due to her mind being ease in memorizing lines and just a few friendships outside England, the two woman became relatively close.

When the costumes were all designed and in the final process of being made, Diane decided that she would like Audrey's hair to be longer. Some wig tests took place, but a joint decision was made.

The film would be postponed in five months from there, so that the blonde's hair would grow.

It was frustrating, to say the least, and maybe that was the trigger for Audrey's disapproval with Diane, but one thing was good. The time now acquired has started to be spent on Y/N.

Always at discreet lunches or afternoon teas in their homes...

Y/N thinks it might be extremely inappropriate and absolutely unprofessional to get personally involved with a co-worker, even outside the set, and even though their work on Diane's film was relatively distant. But, after many glasses of wine and random conversations, nothing made more sense to Y/N than Audrey's lips against hers.

A one-night stand. That was what they thought they were born to be. But the skin on Audrey's stomach was so smooth that Y/N didn't know if she wanted to kiss her until she moaned or laughed, confused as she tried to understand which one of the sounds was the actual responsible for her heart beating faster.

A one-night stand. Because Audrey didn't feel ready to start a relationship after such a recent breakup. But there was nothing more beautiful than Y/N's face full of pleasure while she was being touched, or her face concentrated on redoing a crooked seam, even if she was the only one that noticed the defect in the piece.

A one-night stand. That turned into two, three, ten, thirty... and when they noticed, Audrey's hair was long enough for the film to start recording and their mind was unconsciously bought each other's favorite foods at the supermarket.

And on one of those nights, when they were both lying on Y/N's bed and Audrey was drawing imaginary flowers on the bare skin of her right hip, a whisper escaped the actresses lips:

"I don't want this to end because we are going to work together... Does that make me unprofessional?", The moment the question escapes her lips, she raises her face towards Y/N and looks deeply into her eyes.

"Well ...", the costume designer starts and stops, distracted by the beauty of Audrey's brown eyes and a lock of her hair - now longer - that is hindering the Y/N view of the blonde's cheeks, but that soon puts the hair strands behind her ear and continues - "Count me in because I don't want this to end either..."

It is a smile so beautiful that it takes hold of Audrey's lips, that the courage to take possession of Y / N's body and one more phrase escapes her lips.

"I think I'm in love with you."

The word think sounds so low, it's like it's not even there. Because Y/N's mind knows that she is sure, even scared and that is why Y/N's eyes focus on the whole room, except the face in front of her. Until delicate fingers touch her chin and direct her to see brown eyes bathed in tears, amid the same glorious smile of seconds ago.

"And I don't know how you didn't notice that I fell in love with you too."

And so they come to an agreement. Nothing will be explicit while they are on set. At work, they will be just friends, close friends if the distance wraps their stomachs, but still, just friends.

For the sake of their reputations, their jobs, and the Diane Sherman film they will be just friends.

[wkemeup]

James

inbox request: “Hii, I was thinking that you could write for the By Any Other Name one shots about (all) the times she still called him ‘James’?“ and “...reader ever gets triggered back to any traumatic situations that happed when she was with brock...” by anonymous ❤️ pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 3.5k warnings: PTSD symptoms, dissociation, nightmares, attempted sexual assault a/n: for the anon who requested her calling him James, I swear I didn’t intentionally start out to make this angsty, but it felt right. Also doesn’t surprise me that the angstiest one shot so far is definitely the longest lol. oops.  🌹series masterlist 🌹

“Don’t get cocky just because you survived your first assignment,” Bucky warned, rolling his eyes as Sam sprawled out on the chair in Bucky’s office. Wide toothed grin and the lipstick of an agent on his cheek welcoming him back to HQ after four months under in a biker gang outside of Albuquerque, Sam’s ego had nearly tripled.

“I can and I will,” Sam replied with a snort, sinking further into the chair and kicking up feet up to rest on the desk.

Before Bucky could retort, a short vibration from his cell buzzed against his pocket. He didn’t have a chance to speak as he put the phone to his ear before the voice of a woman came through, firm and calm, though there was a slight edge in her tone. A bated breath. And then -- 

“Is this Bucky Barnes?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, throwing a look at Sam that quickly faded the playful smile from his face as he straightened in the chair. 

“Yes. Who’s this?” 

“My name’s Maria. I work with Y/n at the university,” she explained, a little rushed. “Somethings happened... a fire in the break room and... well... she keeps asking for James.”

Bucky’s stomach dropped.

It was rare when you called him by that name. In the beginning, it had slipped out on occasion; little moments here and there when you were absorbed in your book or focused in the kitchen and the unconscious habit spilled through the cracks. It was always followed up with dozens of sweet apologies because you knew how much it meant to him when you called him by his name – his real name -- even though he told you as many times that he didn’t mind.

But lately, he only heard that name through your screams in the middle of the night, under the faint glow of moonlight seeping in through the curtains and sweat beaded on your forehead, through stammering heartbeats and tears streaming down your cheeks. When you couldn’t quite remember where you were or the last year since your husband had died and you’d been freed from under his reign. It disoriented you, threw you back into the midst of Hydra and James Karpov and sometimes it took longer than Bucky could bare before you came back to him.

Maria sighed. “I don’t know who James is, but I thought you might be the next best bet.”

“Y-yeah,” Bucky chocked out, snapping himself from the strange sense of shock. “I’m on my way.”

He lunged for his keys, gave Sam a short grimace to which he nodded in understanding, and rushed out the door.

“What happened? Is she hurt?” Bucky questioned as he sprinted through the halls, pushing past agents and shoving aside interns carrying dozens of files in their hands.

“I couldn’t find any new burns,” Maria confirmed, though there was a trembling ache in her voice she was clearly trying to push aside. “She seems alright physically. I don’t think she got too close to the fire, but… I’ve never seen her like this before. She won’t say a word to anyone without James. Do you know who she’s talking about?”

Bucky gritted his teeth as he flung open the car door, slid inside, and threw it into reverse. “Yeah, I do.”

Sam must have called in for a police escort it seemed, because they met him at the gate with flashing lights and sirens at the ready. Bucky told them through the windows he needed to get to Columbia as fast as possible, and they nodded without question, even though his voice was wavering in every syllable.

By the time he got there, as he burst through the front doors and raced through the halls, it felt like he was drudging through sand, through mud up to his waist, with anvils tied to his ankles and weights shackles on his shoulders. He didn’t stop to pay attention to the students as they stared at him as he ran past.

He found Maria standing at the edge of the hallway next to a fireman and a yellow tape blocking off the area. She softened as he saw him sprinting towards her. Maybe she noticed the sweat on his shirt or the panic in his eyes, but she stepped aside quickly and gestured for the fireman beside her to do the same.

“She’s down by the break room,” Maria told him. “I couldn’t get her to move. EMTs are with her but I’m not sure if she let them examine her yet.”

Bucky nodded, muttering out a short ‘thank you’ before he pushed down into the hallway.

Sure enough, there you were. Sitting on the floor, knees tucked up to your chest, staring straight ahead at the lockers opposite you. There was a vacant look in your eye as you ran your right hand across the scars on your left; discoloration and raised edged that extended around your wrists where the wires had once dug through your skin and the scorch of a fire burned.

An EMT was standing beside you, trying to grab your attention, but you wouldn’t even look at him. He exchanged a look with his buddy as they noticed Bucky approaching. He gave them a quick flash of the badge tucked into his pocket and they stepped back.

Slowly, Bucky knelt down at your side. He could see the faded burn marks on your forearms, nearly seamless to the color of your skin, but still raised and distorted, though they were clearly from the fire over a year earlier. There didn’t appear to be any new marks; no burns on your clothing or red patches upon your skin save for the imprints of your nails upon your hands and you dug them in for relief.

“Y/n?” he called gently, though you didn’t turn in his direction, almost as if his voice were miles away. 

He’d only seen you like this once before; the night Rumlow had roped Peter into the underworld of Hydra’s crimes. You’d been so still, so petrified, that you practically looked right through him. It took a while for you to come back to your surroundings, to recognize where you were. He thought about what your friend Maria had said and who you were asking for. 

“Sweetheart, it’s me. It’s James. I’m here,” Bucky eased, soothing a hand along your shoulder. You blinked a few times, recognizing his voice, his name, and you turned to him.

“James?” you whispered, relief quickly sweeping through you. You threw yourself into his arms, causing him to stumble back against the wall, but he held you steady.

“Yeah, honey. I’ve got you.”

He could feel the tear marks on his skin where you pressed your face to the crook of his neck. He tried not to stiffen his body, to prevent the muscles from turning to stone and his hands from curling to fists. He couldn’t stand that Rumlow still had this power over you.

It made his blood boil and rage churned like fire in his chest, but he held onto you with the tenderness you needed. He nodded as you called him James, as you stroked your fingers through the short wisps of hair at the nape of his neck.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, you pulled back. You seemed to recognize what happened, remembered the fire as your turned back to look at the break room and the firemen exiting the building. Realization clicked and you glanced up at him; eyes red with tears.

“Bucky?”

Instant relief. 

He offered you a gentle smile, prepared, because he knew the wave of apologies that would follow. He’d hold you in his arms, whisper over and over again that it wasn’t your fault, that he didn’t mind you called him James, that he understood. You didn’t always believe him, but he tried.

***

That name quickly became a warning. You’d loved James Karpov, but you loved Bucky Barnes, too. It mattered to you that you called him by his name, no matter how many times he told you otherwise. So, when you used that name, when you called him James, he knew something was wrong.

“Agent Barnes?”

Bucky glanced up at the intern standing in the door frame; nervous grimace on his face and a tie hung a little loose around his neck.

“You have a visitor, sir.”

Bucky shook his head. The sun had already gone down hours ago and he’d been up for days trying to find a connection in the financial records of a white-collar businessman to an underground trafficking ring for Sam and the rest of his former team. It meant another all-nighter at the office, but he knew Steve wouldn’t have asked if they didn’t need the help.

“It’s late, Miles,” Bucky sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “See if they’ll reschedule for tomorrow. I’ve got a lot of work to do on this case.”

“Sir, I really think you should see this one.”

Miles stepped aside, moving back to his desk sitting outside Bucky’s office, and leaving the entrance open. Then, almost as if he were imagining it, Bucky heard a muffled meow just beyond the door.

“James?”

Bucky dropped the file in his hands as you approached the edge of his office. Dressed in leggings and a sweatshirt two sizes too big for your frame, dark circles under your eyes, and Cheddar held tight in your arms amongst a pile of blankets inside his carrier, you looked as though you hadn’t slept in days.

“Y/n?” Bucky walked around the side of his desk, making his way to you and gently pulling the carrier from your hands and setting it upon the floor. “What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” you replied with a shrug. 

It had been two days since he was home. It happened sometimes, not often, but enough that you knew what it meant; that the team needed him. You understood, you always said as much, and Bucky called when he could, had takeout delivered to the apartment for you and promised to make it up to you when he got home.

But something was different this time.

“I, um,” you started, glancing around the office nervously. “I keep thinking I’m seeing things. In the dark. In the shadows.” You cleared your throat as Bucky furrowed his brow, a sort of embarrassment seeping through. “I keep seeing Brock.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. He led you to the couch in the corner of the room and as he eased you down, he turned to find Miles closing his office door with a sad smile. Bucky leaned down and opened Cheddar’s carrier, letting the cat roam freely around the office, though he decided rather quickly to jump up onto the couch beside you and curl up against your thigh.

“I know it’s crazy,” you said, running your fingers along Cheddar’s spine as he began to purr, “but I… I keep wondering… what if he’s out there? They never found a body, right? I mean… it’s possible he escaped and—”

“It’s not,” Bucky interjected as gently as he could. He remembered the vacant look in Rumlow’s eyes, how he dropped to the ground in a mess of his own blood. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind. As you looked at him again, there were tears in your eyes. “I promise you, sweetheart. He’s dead. He can’t hurt you.”

“I want to believe that,” you whispered, stare dropping down to the floor.

Bucky could see the tension in your jaw, in your shoulders, and how your eyes flashed over to the windows. He pressed a short kiss to your temple and let the silence take over. It was comforting, just listening to the crickets outside and the typing of Mile’s keyboard outside the office door.

“James?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“Can I stay here?” you asked, voice as small as a child’s. “With you?”

You looked at him with a strange kind of hesitation in your eye, like you might be afraid he’d turn you away. It broke his heart, but he tried not to let it show and pushed out a smile instead.

“Of course, love. I’ll see if we can find some blankets for you, alright?”

You nodded, relief quickly spreading through you as you pulled Cheddar into your arms, hugging him tight to your chest. Bucky quickly got up and opened the door a crack to find Miles sitting at his desk, typing away.

“Hey, kid,” Bucky started, “can you track down some—”

“Already got them, sir.” Miles grabbed a stack of blankets from under his desk and a cushion he must have stolen from the lounge and handed them to Bucky.

Bucky nodded, taking them into his arms. Miles was a smart kid. He overhead a lot more than he should, but he never asked questions, never pried, never so much as considered gossiping to the other interns about the personal details of Bucky’s life. Bucky made a note to write him a hell of a recommendation letter.

“Go home, Miles. I’m good for tonight.”

“You sure?”

Bucky smiled. “Yeah.”

Miles jumped up, gave him a quick nod, and practically jogged his way to the elevator.

As Bucky made his way back into the office, he turned to find you already asleep on the couch. He paused, watching as Cheddar tucked himself against your chest as you laid on your side. Your hand was still rested on Cheddar’s back. The cat looked up at Bucky as he approached, his purring loud enough to overshadow the crickets outside.

“You take good care of her, huh?” Bucky whispered to Cheddar, scratching behind his ears. He purred a little louder in response.

Then, Bucky draped a blanket over your legs, letting it fall by your waist. He leaned down and brushed the hair from your eyes, pressed a kiss to your temple, and slowly made his way back to his desk. He had a lot of work to do, but a few glances over at your sleeping form and the ease with which you slept were enough to keep him going through dawn.

***

“That smells incredible,” you gasped as you walked past a bakery in Queens. 

You dragged Bucky by the hand to the window where you could see dozens of rows of cookies lined up inside; gooey and warm and wafting through the air enough to make your stomach growl. You turned to him with that pleading look in your eye, teeth biting down on your lower lip.

“Alright, alright,” Bucky chuckled. “I’ll be right back.”

You grinned, clapping your hands together as you waited for him outside. It was a small shop, with barely enough room to walk around inside without knocking into the tables filled with sweets, so you opted to wait by the edge of the bakery. 

The sun was setting into a beautiful orange and pink in the distance, and the street lamps barely illuminated the alleys beyond the shop. Across the street, you watched as a young man walked by with two dogs, whistling to himself with every bounce in his step. You smiled.

“Ah, what do we have here?” a voice growled from behind you.

You jolted, heart skipping a beat as you whipped around to face the man standing behind you. Tall, burley, with a long-jagged scar along his jawline, you recognized him only as Markovich; one of the men who worked at the docks under your husband. Ex-husband. Dead husband.

“It’s good to see you, Mrs. Rumlow,” Markovich sneered and suddenly, a hand snacked around your forearm, digging razor sharp into your skin and you felt the violent tug as he dragged you into the alley. 

You couldn’t speak, could hardly move, you wanted to scream but you couldn’t find your voice. It all happened so fast. You couldn’t have prepared for it.

Your back slammed to bricks, head pounding in the effort as Markovich pinned you to the wall. 

“I’ve been looking for you for a while. The pretty little bitch that put Hydra in chains...”

Markovich drew a line down your cheek to your jaw with his finger. You struggled to stretch out from his reach, but he held you firm.

“But I slipped through the cracks, didn’t I?” he continued, sinister grin upon his thinned lips. His hand slid lower, daring to touch over your neck, your collar bone, over the rapid rise and fall of your chest and the thunderous pounding of your heart. “Now, I’m going to take what’s mine, take what’s been owed to me now that you’ve destroyed Hydra. Stay quiet for me, Mrs. Rumlow.”

You screamed.

“James!”

A hand slammed down over your mouth, dirty and suffocating. You desperately looked up to the streets, but they were empty, filled only with the dark overcast of the sunset and faded flickering of the street lamps.

“Karpov’s dead,” Markovich spat. “He can’t help you now.”

You whimpered, tears burning in your eyes. Your whole body felt numb, shaken, frail, and as Markovich put a hand on your thigh, sliding up your skin and seeking under the hem of your dress, a surge of rage came over you.

You raised your knee with as much force as you could swing between his legs and suddenly, Markovich doubled over in pain. He released you in favor of clutching his crotch, and you stumbled back towards the streets.

“James!” you screamed, voice breaking in the effort. “James!”

Bucky swerved around the corner in a panic, paper bag dropped to the concrete as he saw you rushing towards him. You slammed into his arms, shaking terribly, and Bucky only had seconds to react when he sat Markovich stumbling back to his feet. Bucky quickly pried you from his arms though it killed him to do so.

“Sweetheart, I need you to call Steve.” Bucky kept his eyes on Markovich.

You shook your head. “James, I… I….”

“Do it now,” he ordered, firmer than he ever wanted to be with you, but as he watched Markovich crack his knuckles, baring his teeth, Bucky knew he didn’t have much time. He kept a hand on your shoulder, stilling you at the edge of the street, before he made his way into the dark shadows of the alley.

“You’re supposed to be dead, Karpov,” Markovich growled.

“Yeah, well, you’re supposed to be in jail, aren’t you?” Bucky shot back. “We’ve had outstanding warrant for your arrest for over a year.”

“Should have figured you were a narc.” Markovich spat, sizing Bucky up as he stepped forward. “Always so soft with the boss’s wife. Heard you were fucking her too. Tell me... was it good?”

Bucky clenched his jaw. Over his shoulder, he could hear your voice quietly on the phone with Steve. It wouldn’t take long. Maybe a few minutes before backup arrived. He didn’t like to carry his firearm when he was off duty, especially around you because you’d be subject to enough violence in your life and you didn’t need the constant reminder that Bucky had perpetrated it himself, too. But now, as he stared down the rather large figure of a man with an intent to kill, he seconded guessed his choice to leave it at home.

Markovich rushed forward, lunging straight for Bucky’s neck, which he was able to side step easily. He had more agility than Markovich and he’d use it to his advantage. He got in a few hits before Markovich landed a punch, but when he did, it nearly sent Bucky spiraling to the ground.

“James!” your voice yelped out from behind him. He didn’t dare turn around.

It took until the both of them were panting and Markovich has a steady stream of blood down his nose and Bucky was limping on his left ankle before the cops arrived. 

They rushed into the alley, separated Markovich to the wall and cuffed him. Bucky didn’t say a word as Markovich shouted at him through the window of the cop car, threatening him, threatening you.

Hydra didn’t have resources anymore. Markovich couldn’t hurt either of you the way Rumlow had once threatened. Steve would find a way to make sure Markovich stayed silent. It might mean a reduced sentence or privileges behind bars, but he’d keep the two of you safe. Bucky didn’t doubt that for a second.

“Oh, thank god, James,” you rushed towards him, throwing yourself into his arms. It was nearly suffocating how tight you were holding him, but he didn’t mind. You needed this, needed to remember that he was real and safe, and maybe he needed that too.

“I’m alright,” he exhaled, wiping the blood from his cheek. He pulled you back just enough to see your face. “Are you okay? I shouldn’t have left you out here alone. I didn’t think— I should have come faster— I—”

“I’m okay,” you confirmed, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “But I guess ‘okay’ is relative.”

He chuckled at that, nodding as he pulled you back to his chest. “I’ve got cookie dough in the freezer and that movie you’ve been wanting to watch on rent. You up for that?”

He could feel your smile against his chest.

“Yeah, I’m up for it.”

Bucky gave a short nod to the officers clearing the scene behind him and guided you back to the sidewalk. It was a short walk back to the apartment from where you were.

“Hey Bucky?” you asked, and he felt a wash of relief in his own name.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Thanks for keeping your promise.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “What promise?”

“To always protect me,” you said simply, squeezing his hand a little tighter.

Bucky nodded, a soft kind of smile pushing at his cheeks. “Always, sweetheart. Always.”

[akwardlyuncool]

Class Favorites: Movie Rank!

Here is a ranking of all the movies that I watched for the first time this year, lucky for us I was on my stuff and there are full reviews, which will be linked, for each one!

PS: I can never remember to do that backwards, reverse order, ranking thing, which is why I always start at 1 lol sorry.

Note: I probably won’t give a “full” synopsis of each movie in this post (you can check the reviews for that) however I thought it might be a decent idea to include the Content/Trigger Warnings, for the ones that needed it, just in case.

1) Spontaneous (2020)

This movie was definitely what I needed at the time of me watching it, it just felt so good and made me want to be alive at a time where I couldn’t just go out and live my life. There was hope. If you’re looking for your next YA adapted movie, then I highly suggest one about teenagers who spontaneously combust in home room.

*Based on a book of the same name by Aaron Starner, that I got all geeked about reading after seeing this movie and did get most of the way through, I just haven’t actually finished it yet.

CW: This movie is rather bloody. (The only reason why I think it was categorized as a horror movie.) Additionally there is some teen alcohol abuse.

2) Loser (2000)

Of course a 2000′s “teen” drama made the top of the list, who do you think I am, if not predictable? In all of it’s problematic ways, it still managed to make me swoon a little bit and that was probably how it stuck for me. Basically even if a movie makes you cringe, never underestimate the power a soundtrack has over your feelings.

CW/TW: Without spoilers, there are drugs being given with the intent of sexually assaulting woman at parties. There is also a relationship between a 18 year old girl/woman and a 36 year old man.

3) Songbird (2020)

I thought my hottest take of the year was the fact that I didn’t hate this movie, but it might turn out to be that it’s ranked #3 on this list. There are plenty of movies that didn’t fear monger a very real and ongoing pandemic, however based on the lot of what I saw this year, kinda enjoying something and not hating it, really does a film justice.

TW/CW: This is a Covid Dramatization. We are still in the midst of a very real pandemic.

Note: I say this in my review, but to preface the post itself, all critique and animosity of Songbird in general is valid and I don’t disagree with many of the points made. I acknowledge that this movie was most likely made to scare people and profit off of the current pandemic.

4) Without Consent (1994)  

I want to write a whole post about how dramatic, teen, “Made-For-TV” and Lifetime movies alike, have a way or reeling me in so quick. They are in a league of their own, so the metrics at which I “rate”/feel about them is different from a regular movie. Yes they get rated on a curve most likely based on the drama they provide and it’s ability to keep me engaged. The grip I had on the edge of my seat (bed) while watching this one in particular was a strong one, so it’s not surprising that the curve really worked in its favor cause it is a lot to handle.

TW/CW: This movie features talk of mental illness and suicidal-ideation in ways that I feel teeter on a very fine line. There is use of straight jackets as well as bed restraints, among other antiquated medical practices, including unnecessary sedations. Yes this movie was made in the nineties and not 2021, however recognizing context of the time period doesn’t free it from not being triggering.

Note: I also acknowledge that there are several real life conversations going on at the moment surrounding youth treatment facilities, not so far separated from this fictional one and how traumatizing that are. (Paris Hilton and Bhad Bahbie are just a few of the voices talking about them.)

5) Four Brothers (2005)

For a movie that I thought was just alright, it still managed to make the top 5. Again soundtracks have big pulls with me, and surprisingly, as well as the Four Brothers’ fandom here on Tumblr. Apparently if you give me Motown and hot-take commentary, then you’ve got me sold.

6) Words on Bathroom Walls (2020)

YA book to movie adaptations, especially for books I haven’t read yet, tend to get favor with me. Not saying it was the most memorable movie on this list, however that’s not such a downfall here. It did it’s job and I’m sure Charlie Plummer with his Chad Micheal Murry haircut will continue to my grace screen many more times in the future.

CW/Note: This movie deals with schizophrenia and because I’m not super knowledgeable on that particular mental illness, I cannot tell you whether it was a decent depiction of someone living with that illness or not.

7) The Faculty (1998)

Although my skin was crawling based on the their gross misuse of pen capsules, it wasn’t a bad movie or one that I wouldn’t watch again. It was a decent teen-drama-thriller for the masses. The cast was good, but if you’re checking it out because it “has” Usher in it, you will be very disappointed. 

8) Then Came You (2018)

Do you need another young adult cancer romance story? Probably not, but just like me you will watch every other one that comes out and find some enjoyment at every turn. Not the best I’ve ever seen in this genre, but it did have a few “surprises” mixed in that made it not so completely predictable.

9) The Holiday (2006) 

It was okay and for that reason, as well as some other movies just being plain bad, it found a spot in the top 10. I’m for sure broken, cause “romantic comedy” should have solidified a higher spot just on that basis alone, but here we are. You will most likely absolutely love it though, again I’m just broken.

10) A Cinderella Story: Starstruck (2021)

A cute, fun little movie that you watch simply cause you need a filler or you’re just curious how the franchise is going. It’s bright, shiny and so easy-going that I didn’t feel like I wasted time on it.

11) The Short History Of The Long Road (2019)

In my review I said that this wasn’t a bad way to spend an afternoon and I think that sums it up fairly well. It gets middle of the pack cause it probably could have moved me a bit more for being the type of movie that it is (coming-of-age-drama) but I’m not mad at it.

12) Lore (2012)

This is a “post” Holocaust film that I never really knew how to “fully” review because how do you rate that sort of thing. I can say that it wasn’t a bad movie or one that was blatantly inaccurate, it was just heavy and you have to be willing to sit through that. Also, subtitles.

13) The Reckoning (2015)

The Reckoning is the third movie based off of “The Shunning” trilogy by Beverly Lewis. During the summer I watched the whole series and this one wasn’t so bad. The first one is still the best in the series, but at least the 3rd one came in second or in this case 13.

14) Never Goin’ Back (2018)

Woman-led best friend stoner dramedy, that may get a rewatch somewhere down the line, if I’m feeling particularly random, just not anytime soon or so I believe.

CW: Teen drug and alcohol use.

15) The Good Son (1993)

Evil Macaulay Culkin doesn’t sit right with me, but I think this one ended up so low on the list, because we (I specifically) was done so dirty by that ending and I can’t forgive them for putting that kind of moral complex on my head. RUDE!

16) Tyger Tyger (2021)

Oh right, this was the movie that may or may not of been a covid story, but was for sure a pandemic one, that also fronted as a trippy romance, without much of that romance actually being believable; I remember you now. Honestly there was too much and not enough going on for me to want to rank this movie any higher.

CW/TW: Drug Abuse.

17) American Pie  Presents: Girls Rule!

This was the first new movie I saw in 2021 and can easily say that I wasn’t feeling it. I saw what it was trying to be, it just couldn’t properly get there. Will most likely only get a rewatch if I’m doing a run through of the whole franchise. Was just too uncomfortable the whole time, you know to fall in love.

CW: Teen Sexuality, like their sex lives (As in that’s what this movie is about, if you were unaware.)

18) Little Italy (2018)

I rated this one too generously (3 out of 5), so I had to make it up to myself by ranking it at the bottom. It’s really trope-y and sits inside way too many Italian stereotypes for me to say anything other than, okay that was a thing I just sat through. I’m sorry Scott Helman, Kinda Complicated couldn’t do enough to save this movie from the bottom of this and I’m sure others who watched it as well.

19) Blue State (2007)

Was this really worse than the movies that proceeded it, I’m not 100% sure, but upon re-reading my review I can say that I would rather not sit through that one again unless me and my friends were having a bad movie watch party and there was funny commentary and snacks involved.

20) Cherry (2010)

No amount of love that I have for the year 2010 could ever make my skin not crawl when really thinking about this movie. Again I saw what it could have been or what I wished it was, however in reality it was bad and hella problematic and I couldn’t really see past any of it. 

CW/TW: The main character is 17 and his main romantic interest is a woman in her thirties, who is well aware of his attraction to her when she befriends him. She has a 14 year old daughter who is into the 17 old boy as well. Without spoilers, I will also note that there is a r*pe or what appears to be a sexual assault that takes place in this film.

21) After We Collided (2020)

This will probably get a rewatch because I thought I should have rewatched the first movie before watching this one and will most likely (if I can be bothered) binge both before diving into the next movie that gets made. This was a toxic “love” story and I just want to see where it goes, I’m not gonna lie and say it was good, just because I’ll probably watched it more than once, just so I know what’s going on.

CW/TW: Alcohol abuse and what I perceive to be a brief scene of sexual assault.

22) White Chocolate (2018)

Don’t let the “cute” cover fool you, this is most likely, if not the worst movie I’ve ever seen and it wins the award because it happens to be the most racist movie I think I’ve ever seen. This movie goes full mask off and there is no redeeming it, not that I even want to. This is not what we watch at the bad movie party, we warn people and then hope that all parties involved in the making of the movie never get to make another movie in their life ever again. It is that bad.

TW/CW: This movie is filled with racism and white supremacist comments, some about keeping bloodlines pure. I speak to those things in my review, so I’m just stating that now.

[kikilefangirl]

New Light

Barry Allen x Reader

(Quick Note: Happy Inauguration Day! After all the craziness and stress four years in the making, I wanted to write someone as kindhearted and sweet as Barry Allen.)

(Word Count: 1837)

“I’m on my way, Felicity, my train was running late—“

A hard shoulder slamming into your chest cut you off mid sentence and knocked you all the way to the hard ground.

Between the roar of trains coming in and out of the platform, shuffling footsteps, and your friend’s worried yelling through the phone, disoriented was a nice way of putting it. Your still head was spinning as you stumbled to your feet.

“Oh my, oh my god, I am so sorry—let me, uh— and you’re...already...up.” He rambled.

So it was a man who ran into you. And he was going on and on nervously as he picked up your fallen items. He had a thin build and dark hair, but you could only focus on his clumsy hands and apologetic eyes.

“It’s totally fine, just be careful next time.” You joked and pushed your braids away from your face.

The man rose to his feet and held your phone and purse out towards you. As you took them and gave him your best smile. There was something about his absentmindedness that was kind of charming and intriguing.

“I, uh, um...Barry Allen. I’m Barry Allen....Barry is my name.” He said.

You held in your laugh for fear of flustering him more and settled on a curious gaze. Barry wiped a hand on his back pocket and offered it to you.

“Nice to meet you, Barry. I’m Y/N.” You replied as you shook his hand.

You decided to omit the Queen part of your name, for now. Barry seemed sweet and genuinely interested in you. Having a dead father, a brother back from the dead, an out of control sister, and a mother on trial for mass murder tended to scare away any potential partners. You shifted your weight.

You had to get going sooner rather than later, but not wanting to let Barry go just yet, you took out a pen out of your purse and wrote your number on his palm.

“Try not to mow anyone else down today, and maybe give me a call if you're still in town, Barry.” You told him.

He stuttered through a response and turned a bright pink. You nodded with a smile and promptly walked off to your awaiting car.

“Barry Allen.” You repeated his name out loud once inside and heat built up in your cheeks. You hoped he’d call.

...

Oliver was waiting in his office for you when you walked up to the entrance of Queen Consolidated.

Pushing through the glass doors, you didn’t spare a second thought on the curious stares people sent you, you had spent your whole life getting them. A ping on your phone made you smile as soon as you saw it.

Sorry I ran you over earlier...I don’t really know places to go out here, but I could find somewhere if you still wanted to go out with me?—Barry Allen (from the train station, sorry again!)

A warm, bubbly feeling took over your whole body. Barry gave you a feeling you had rarely experienced: he was genuinely good. You needed some positivity in the midst of your chaotic life.

Before you could reply back, a woman’s voice and body stood in your way. You had only made it to the front desk.

“Excuse me—“

“No unauthorized personnel, here.” She explained.

Your eyes narrowed into slits as you looked up from your phone. Tons of other people were free and clear to pass by, but of course you, the black girl was stopped. Clicking your tongue, you tried to move past her.

“Do you have an ID for Queen Consolidated? If you don’t I’m going to have to ask you to leave before I call the police.” She said.

Bullshit.

“My name is Y/N Queen. Move.” You sniped. You were already running late as it was, but today of all days a white girl just had to try you.

“I’ve never heard of you. I’m calling the police.” She threatened. Her hand was already on the buttons. You huffed. What had started as an annoyance had escalated into full blown danger.

You quickly dialed your brother’s number. He picked up on the second ring.

“You’re late, Y/N.” Oliver chastised from the other end.

“Actually, I’m downstairs being blocked from the elevator, in a building we own, and a company we have shares in. Get down here, now.”

For a few tortuous minutes, you stood there waiting at a stalemate. The security was bounding down the steps; they were big men in dark suits and earpieces.

You ran your tongue on the roof of your mouth, a mix of anger and fear and shame. Oliver wasn’t supposed to bail you out. You were just as much a Queen as he was and should’ve had the same access as he did. You ground your teeth and folded your arms.

You were relieved when the elevator dinged and Oliver stepped out of it.

His eyes widened in surprise for a split second, before the realization of what was happening sunk in. To anyone that didn’t know him, Oliver might have looked calm. But the clenched jaw, pulled back lip corners and the way he furled and unfurled his hands as he adjusted his suit said otherwise.

“Who told you that you could physically block and try to remove my sister from the area?” He said with a straight face, staring directly at the woman.

You smirked as she stumbled through a range of bullshit excuses and ‘I’m sorry, Mr. Queen’ over and over again to no avail.

Oliver protectively ushered you into the elevator, but before the doors could close you yelled, “Might wanna see who’s hiring!”

On the way up, you brushed off Oliver’s questions and concerns. You had lived your entire life black, this was nothing new to you. But after five years away, it probably was to him. You weren’t a teenager standing by his or your dad’s side anymore.

“I’m fine, Ollie. Drop it, please.” You pleaded.

“That woman was going to call the police on you, Y/N.” He continued, still bewildered.

“I get that being on that island wasn’t your fault, but I’ve held my own as a black woman for five years without you or dad. Things like that are just a part of the package.” You explained.

As the two of you stepped off the elevator, you softened when he gave you a long hug. It was his apology, and you leaned in, accepting it. Five years was a long time away.

“I only came by to check in on you. With the break in and all, plus Mom’s party tonight...” You trailed off.

Oliver offered a small smile as the two of you rounded the corner. You blinked in surprise when you saw none other than Barry Allen talking to Felicity. Your mood instantly brightened.

“Barry!” You called out. At the sound of his name, he saw you and fell flat on his face. Clumsiness was becoming a theme between you two. You hurried over and helped him up.

“I’m so sorry!” You exclaimed, but Barry stared at you, confused. You held Barry’s full attention as if no one else was in the room. It was refreshing, really.

“Hi-hi again, Y/N...What are you doing h-here?” He asked. You held Barry’s full attention as if no one else was in the room. It was refreshing, really. Too bad Oliver had to ruin it.

“Barry, how do you know my little sister?” He said it, more than asked it.

Oliver gave Barry an icy glare. The threat in his voice may have had an effect on everyone else, but it made you roll your eyes in annoyance. He just had to add the little sister part. Barry straightened up and swallowed nervously, his Adam’s apple bobbing in the process.

Damn it, Oliver. You two were very hot and cold lately and it bothered you to no end.

“I met him this morning, Ollie, mind your business.” You snapped. You turned back to Barry and smiled.

“There’s a party at our house tonight, you should drop by if my idiot brother doesn’t kill you first. Text me for the address.” You declared. Your eyes burned with defiance as you stormed off, matching Oliver’s mood. You guessed you really were siblings.

As you left, you hoped Barry would show.

...

The annual Queen family Christmas party was honestly, the most awkward two hours of your life.

You, Moira, Thea, and Oliver stood in an almost empty living room. The only guests seemed to be the caterers. Barry hadn’t texted you, either.

“Maybe...people got lost on the way.” You offered. Moira smiled at you and patted your shoulder.

“Thank you, dear, but we all know the real reason. Nobody wants to be seen with the likes of me.” She said. She was right. You shot her an apologetic look and handed her another drink.

Oliver took the opportunity to whisk you away from your mother and sister, “Y/N, help me with the drinks, please.”

You obliged without protest. You had already been stood up by half the city and Barry. Family really was all you had.

“What, Ollie?” You asked in an exasperated tone.

“I know that you took on a lot, while I was on the island. And I know that being the oldest wasn’t easy, especially for you in the public eye. I read the tabloids.”

Oliver’s admission made you a little teary eyed. He was the first person in the family to truly consider you family. He was your big brother. He caught up on all of the horrible headlines and rumors that swirled about you after the news broke about the Queen’s Gambit.

“Which is why I invited someone special, tonight. For you.” Oliver said. You raised a brow in confusion.

“I’m not that great over text.” You turned around and your mouth dropped open a little. It was Barry, in a really nice suit looking finer than ever. You gave him a hug and he took your hand.

“I’m also not a great dancer, I’ll try not to step on your toes.” He admitted. You led him to the dance floor and nodded to the musicians.

“Don’t worry about it. There isn’t much of a crowd to judge you.” You joked.

You and Barry swayed to the music, talking and laughing the whole way through. Barry Allen, you found, really was the ray of light you needed in the moment. The past few months were some of the hardest in your life, filled with dark moments and uncertainty.

As Barry held you and told you corny science jokes and yes, stepped on your toes once or twice, you realized you had never met anyone as sweet and as kind as him.

When the night was over, you couldn’t help but look forward to the next time you saw him.

[notthelatin]

This is the House We Get Murdered In: The Ritual (2017)

The first time I saw David Bruckner’s 2017 monster movie The Ritual I liked it a lot. The second time I watched it I fell head-over-heels so hard that I decided to just start a blog so I’d have somewhere to deliver this dang sermon. If you’re on the fence, and you like monsters, or creepy forests, or just really good character writing, go watch it. If you still need some convincing, read on.

There’s a thing that happens in horror sometimes, where the building of tension supersedes the building of character. I get it, I do, they’re trying to scare us, and sometimes they get so focused on threatening the people on the screen that they forget to make us care about the people on the screen. Horror that emphasizes thrills over depth can be fun, can even strike terror if it’s good enough, but it’s harder to inspire real horror when your audience isn’t sure why they should care in the first place. Sometimes, in acknowledgment of this, a movie shoehorns in a little monologue just before the climax, in the hopes that it will inspire us to suddenly love this person enough to care when their face is bitten off in the next scene. The Ritual is a movie that seeks not just to avoid that particular narrative sin, but to avenge the audiences that have fallen victim to it. And holy shit, do I feel avenged.

Never mind that the setting is gorgeous, that the sound design is stellar, that the dream sequences are my favorite of any movie I’ve ever seen. I could tell you that the performances are all believable and touching, and that the monster design is the most unique I’ve seen in years.

But what I NEED to tell you about is the writing. 

This movie spends its entirety rendering a careful, thoughtful portrait of its four main characters. Four men in the early half of middle age, Hutch, Phil, Dom, and Luke, on a multi-day hike through Scandinavia. It’s a trip their friend Rob wanted to take before he died. They’re here to memorialize him.

Every interaction and every scrap of dialogue between these four is beautifully intentional. Every joke or offhand comment is there to tell you about one of these men, or about their history together, and none of it feels extraneous. When they find a spooky cabin in the woods, one quips “This is clearly the house we get murdered in”. His friend shoots back: “not as bad as our uni accommodations”. 

This is the only mention of their time in university. A movie that trusted its audience less might treat us to a flashback of their freshman hall, or a stiffly recounted anecdote about how they all met. The Ritual knows that we don’t need anything more. We know that these men, who are at the stage of life where they’re moving from benders to brunches, have been friends since college, since they were barely more than kids. It’s a world of history rendered in a single joke line, and it feels natural, it feels genuine. Every decision in this movie is made with the same care- from the jokes they make at one another’s expense, to the way they react to the growing tension of knowing they aren’t alone in the woods, to the ways they comfort themselves and one another when things start to go wrong.

There’s a scene where they’re marching, hungry, though the woods, daydreaming about the meals they want when they reach safety. Amidst conversations about steak and red wine, Dom announces that what he REALLY wants is a “McDonalds burger, on a metal tray, eaten alone”. It’s played for laughs, but it also tells us exactly what kind of man Dom is in one line.This is a man who chooses quick, emotionally satisfying, nutritionally empty solutions to his problems, and doesn’t care if it isolates him. Later, when he decides, in a fit of frustration, to march away down a random path that’s heading in a different direction than the one they need to go, completely alone, we BELIEVE him. This is not a random panic decision, or a stupid unrealistic plot choice made by writers who wanted to get their characters lost at any cost. That path is a McDonalds burger, and he’s happy to eat it by himself. Similarly, blame is the cheap, easy solution that Dom turns to in his grief. Dom is angry and in pain over the loss of his friend Rob, and blaming someone is the easiest way to make the pain more bearable, even if it means pushing a living friend away. It’s quick, it’s easy, it feels good. It doesn’t bring Rob back.

The visuals in this movie are striking in a way that something so sparse shouldn’t be able to pull off. The colors are desaturated, the lighting is a uniform diffuse, overcast gray. And yet, when weird shit happens, that pared down approach lends itself to a certain shocked surreality. The signature quick-cuts and zooms we find sometimes in monster movies aren’t here in the Swedish forest. When there’s something terrible to see, we just see it, full screen, steady cam, quiet. It’s worse that way, somehow. Like the characters, we can look away, but that doesn’t mean the terrible thing is gone, and the daylight doesn’t soften anything.

The only missteps I found in this movie are towards its climax. The terror has been ramping up in such a satisfying way, and we’ve spent so much time in the quiet, measured, tense isolation of the forest, that when the setting changes to something man-made it feels almost mundane. We’re not sure whether to be terrified or sort of relieved. In the midst of some excellent character development, a nameless Swedish hillbilly wanders in seemingly just to mutter exposition? This is how the movie decides to tell us just what’s been stalking the woods all this time. The scene is brief, but in a movie that’s so careful, almost miserly, with the information it gives us, even that feels like a clumsy info dump. The character motivation for divulging this information isn’t very clear, and honestly, the writer’s motivation isn’t either. It seems like, for just a minute, the director stopped trusting us. “We can’t let an audience draw ALL the conclusions, can we? I’ll just spell this one out”.

Ultimately, that brief stumble before the (excellent) climactic scene doesn’t really detract from the movie. The Ritual is a smart, thoughtful, careful character portrait, and a touching exploration of grief, guilt, and the ways that we find to forgive ourselves and each other. It’s about standing up, sticking together, and moving forward. 

Also, the monster kicks every ass. 10/10

[spc4eva]

Star-Burned: Chapter Two

Ngl, reader is well endowed in the breast department. hate me. trust me, reader is gonna complain about it later about her back hurting.

Paz fluff is probably my favorite thing to write. This fic is undoing me. Goddammit.

Word Count: 8,626

Rating: M (+18) oral sex m!receiving

Masterlist

Cross Posted on AO3

Paz barely understood what was happening when he'd crash landed, falling out of hyperspace and being thrown around the hull of his ship like a tin can before crash landing. It was miraculous he'd survived with just broken ribs. An even bigger miracle that he'd been found. 

You were a pretty young lady with more hair than should be humanly possible, a ray of sunshine, and so hilariously goofy that Paz was smiling beneath his helmet half the time as you trotted in with meals for him, eying him beneath your mop of hair --- which you often tried to manage in a ponytail, though ringlets would fall free and cascade into your face smattered with a constellation of freckles. That's why he named you Tranyc -- Mando'a for sunny or quite literally translating to 'star-burned', because you were the ray of sunshine on his day while he was stuck in bed healing. You were good company, easy to talk to, never berated him despite how much of a burden he was. Took him less than a day to realize you were on your own, running the entire moisture farm on nothing but cultivated crops and several cups of caf a day. And despite how often you fumble over words, you were smart. 

There wasn't much to do and the highlights of Paz's day consisted of you spending time with him. You had piled all your holobooks near him, given him the remote for the television, and anything else you thought he might like while you wandered off to go make repairs and tend to your livelihood. You must've been tired. The farm was a fulltime job on its own and now you had to look after him. Paz felt guilty, because you'd not complained once, not asked him for credits or when he might be leaving. You were cautiously curious, but not impolite with your questions. Not many people would have chanced bringing a Mandalorian into their home, let alone a young woman on her own. That was what was different about you and maybe it had to do with Paz's sheer luck of landing on a relatively backwater planet where people weren't in fear of their lives constantly.

Paz had lucked out. 

He hated feeling weak, being unable to walk on his own, but you were blissfully patient and kind, cracking jokes and making silly faces, telling him how he'd be good as new to start back up on hunting -- or whatever it was that Mandalorians did. And while he was eager to not have his ribs feel as if they'd been kicked in by a bantha, he was also ruing the countdown for when he'd have to return to his ship and leave you behind. Despite it being a few scant weeks, Paz liked you. Not just because you were pretty, but he found your demeanor relaxing. So when he managed to get to his feet to go to the kitchen and he saw your hair sticking out on the couch, he trotted over without an afterthought to check on you. 

He hadn't been expecting to see your coveralls crumpled on the floor and your beet red facing eying him in horror. Originally, he'd believed you were hurt from when he'd fallen on you. After all, you were a small thing. Despite being lean from working the farm you were dwarfed by him. And when the blanket had fallen over... Paz's mind began turning, the gears clicking into place, the disbelief that the pretty ray of sunshine had been caught in the midst of masturbating. To the thought of him. 

Until that point you'd been hospitable and courteous, it was the last thing he expected and dangling deliciously in front of him like a forbidden fruit. He more than owed you at this point. He owed you his life and getting you off wasn't really repayment. In fact, Paz had enjoyed it, thinking the situation was more self indulgent than selfless. You became putty in his hands, passing out from a mixture of exhaustion and satisfaction. That brought a smile to his face -- well, there had already been a smile -- but it was bigger now. 

He didn't mind cleaning you up and putting you into some more comfortable clothing, tucking you into the large bed that had obviously been yours. He had found discarded hair elastics under the pillows and a few socks that had been lost to the depths of the sheets. You had taken care of him, he could manage picking up your tiny form and putting you to bed. You didn't come around until morning when Paz was up in the fresher, still testing his weight on his aching chest. 

"You can walk now," you popped your head through the open door, stating the obvious, but it made him smile that you weren't half as doleful as he'd thought you'd be after yesterday. "Um... I can make breakfast real quick and then there's something I wanna show you if you're up to it."

"If I'm up to it?" Paz rumbled, he still couldn't wear his armor, the weight would be too much of a burden. "How are you feeling?"

Your face brightened with blush immediately, matching the hue of your flaming locks at the sheer mention. "G-good, th-thank you."

The moment he'd put you to bed, he'd staggered off to the fresher to relieve himself and the throbbing erection he had from going through his ministrations. Not that you needed to know that he had been wanting more. Yesterday hadn't been about him. The last few weeks you had doted your attention on him. 

"Good."

You darted away, back in your usual attire which consisted of mechanic coveralls, boots, and a tightfitting short sleeve shirt in russet. Your arms were bared from the bicep down and you wore a pair of beat up leather gloves, hair cinched at the base of your neck with a straining scrunchie that fought desperately to contain all the curls which rebelled at being held against the back of your slightly too large overalls. 

Truthfully, you were very nervous over what had happened yesterday and even more distressed that you had slept away the entire freaking day. The hardworking farmer in you was berating you with every step, unbelievable, you slept the entire day until breakfast. Now, when drifters had stayed and you had slept with them, you had woken up and prepared breakfast without an afterthought. There was no guilt, no twisting of nerves in your tummy, because you knew that what had happened was a simple arrangement of two lonely people breaking up the cobwebs. What happened with the Mandalorian should have felt the same, but it didn't. Only one man had stayed a few days and engaged in multiple trysts and by the end, he'd been asking you to leave behind the moisture farm to go adventuring with him. While that was a very... juicy prospect, you couldn't think about leaving behind the canyons you'd known your entire life. You loved it here, even if it was solitude and silence. 

From the views up on the plateau where your farm was located, a bird's eye view of the spanning clay walls, billowing in waves of amber, brown, and orange. Your favorite days were the overcast ones where the clouds would sweep low and fringe the mountaintops with mist. That was during the wet season when the lowest parts of the canyons would fill with turquoise water from the rain. The only freestanding water you'd ever gotten the luxury of seeing and it was still a trip on your speeder bike since you lived pretty high up on the plateaus. Wasn't that time of year though, it was still the dry season and so you had to keep regular maintenance on the farm to suck every bit of moisture up. 

You kept mostly grains on the farm, but had a few animals to include tip-yips which produced eggs. Otherwise, any greenery you had was produced in your greenhouse, utilizing misty puffs of water to keep it nice and humid inside. Without it, you certainly wouldn't have been getting enough nutrients to live out this remote. You would stock up on seed every six months and grow leafy greens, root vegetables, had a few berry bushes, and rhubarbs. They were genetically modified to have additional benefits, keeping you going and healthy. You loved checking in on them, standing in your little bubble of green, imagining other planets that looked just like it but instead of being in a little capsule -- the entire planet was green. That was hard to fathom, giving the landscape you'd grown up on, but so were oceans and you knew they existed. 

Jumbles followed you out to the coop, drooling all over the dirt as you scolded him for getting too close. His head drooped and he stayed behind while you picked out some fresh eggs and threw fodder out for the tip-yips. You knew if you didn't keep the birds carefully locked up, Jumbles would gobble them all up. "Calm down. I'll give you some eggs you beast," you chided as you stopped in the green house to pick a few vegetables and fruit before going back inside. You'd never wanted more aside from companionship and to not be alone. You loved your farm so much and all the work you had put into it. You loved this dry, arid planet and the raw beauty you got to witness. But you weren't perfectly content. 

You were lonely.

Paz was waiting in the kitchen at the table, which was funny, considering he couldn't actually eat with you. Humming to yourself, you put a pot of caf on and then frowned at 6PO, who wandered around aimlessly. "6PO please make yourself useful. Go sweep out the greenhouse if you can't decide on what to do," you sigh, the droid looking as confused as ever, before creaking out the front door.

"Where did you get that droid?" Paz asked curiously as you set a skillet on the stove and began heating it up.

"Found it," you shrug. "Wasn't in one piece, so I scavenged parts and put it all back together again. Some of the neural harnessing was missing, so the droid will never be complete unless I replace it entirely."

"You mean you reprogrammed it?" he actually sounded sort of impressed.

You rolled your shoulders again. "Yeah, suppose so. Wasn't too hard. Lots of trial and error... and caf." And time. During the wet season you had more time on your hands and so typically that's when you'd spend it on projects.

"How'd you learn how to do that? Droids are complicated pieces of tech."

"My dad taught me. He was an engineer, could run this whole place without even trying. Always knew how to fix everything," you gave a sad chuckle at the thought of your parents. You missed them so much. Maybe if they hadn't passed you wouldn't be half as lonely and feeling as if there was something missing in your life. "Studied on... Coruscant, I think? Before the war broke out. Round 20BBY he came out here with my mom and I because they wanted to avoid the fighting."

"And he taught you everything he knew," Paz assumed.

"Oh, well, I mean, probably not everything. He probably would have found a way to fix 6PO completely."

"Do you mind if I ask what happened?"

The corner of your mouth quirked involuntarily and you stared down at the pan as you began sautéing the cut up tubulars. "We get a wet season here every standard year. The canyons are vast, mostly stone, and not porous. My mother was sick, so they had to make a visit to the city which is a 2 day trip on bike. Usually, we don't leave during the wet season. Too dangerous. But mom's condition wasn't improving and so my father decided the risk was worth it. 

"In order to get to the city, you have to go through the canyons. This time of year, no big deal, but during the wet season? Can start raining without warning and when it does, the crevasses act as funnels, diverting water to the lowest point, which... you're catching my drift, right?" You glance up, not particularly fond of explaining how nature worked around here, especially when it had taken your parents from you.

"Flash floods?"

"Mm," you began cracking the eggs. "Can't outrun a flash flood. Not on a speeder bike. They drowned. So-" you drew in a sharp breath. You had rationalized this several times over. Never really talked about it, but it didn't make you cry anymore. This planet had been good to you. Better than most people could hope for when they settled on a farm. You knew that you were lucky because of that and you couldn't resent the planet even if it took your parents from you. "The Jawas found them a little while after that. They know us, we trade with them -- I still do -- and they brought my parents back for me. Despite what people say about them, they didn't ask me for payment."

"I'm sorry... was that six years ago?"

"Mhm," you confirmed, wiping your hands off and picking up a few eggs, cracking them over your massiff's eagerly waiting mouth. "Not your fault. Might be safe from raiders and looters, but it's a harsh unforgiving landscape. Sometimes you get too comfortable and forget about that. My dad knew the risks when he took my mother. They lived a good life, just wish they didn't have to go that way." You wish you hadn't been left alone. 

"Where's the closest neighbor aside from the Jawas?"

"Hundreds of miles," now you were plating the food and grabbing mugs for the caf. "The canyons are the best place to set up moisture farms. The deserts soak up all the water from the wet seasons, but due to the stone around here, it's a lot easier for moisture to be trapped in the vaporators. However, they're remote and a lot of the plateaus are too dangerous to set up on because the foundation of stone is likely to crumble. Only about three farms in all of the canyons and this is one of them. We're the highest producers of water on the planet, especially during the wet season. 'Bout the only time I see starships since the city will come and pick it up."

You slapped Jumbles on the nose as he leaned over the counter toward one of the freshly assembled breakfasts, causing him to whine. "Oh shut it you baby," you hadn't even hit him that hard, just a little boop on the nose and he was pretending you'd wailed into him. "Drama queen."

You brought Paz's food over for him and went to grab your own. "I can go outside. A few things I can start on before we head out."

"Sit down and eat first," he invited, which confused you, because how were the both of you going to eat with the whole helmet situation. "If you sit at the counter with your back to me, it'll be fine."

Oh, well that went against what he said about only removing his helmet when he was alone. But... that also meant he trusted you. How many opportunities did you have to remove his helmet? The first day you probably could have if you weren't terrified of being shot. Until you'd gotten to know Paz better, he had been the big scary Mandalorian and not the patient and easygoing one you knew now. "Are you certain? I mean, it's not a big deal. I eat on the go all the time," you object kindly, not wishing for him to feel obligated to have you in your own kitchen.

"Sit," he insisted.

"Well, I mean-" you grabbed a chair, mostly talking to yourself when you muttered those words and pulled it up to the counter. Jumbles was drooling on your leg, looking at you as if you hung the stars, which admittedly -- was quite cute except for the fact that you knew he just wanted your leftovers. 

"Where'd you get a massiff?" There was a click and a hiss, the helmet disengaging and being set on the table. You tried not to think about how easy it would be to turn around and finally get a look at him, focusing on your cup of caf instead.

"Kind of just... found him," you reveal, thinking about the day you'd stood toe to toe with the beast, your arms full of scrap metal, wondering if you were going to have to use the bacta shot after getting munched on by the creature. "Thought he was gonna try and eat me."

"It's wild?" Paz's voice was different, unmodulated. There was still the same warmth you were used to, but the lack of the radio static and translation from human to droid made your skin hot, little lances of static playing down your spine as the deep bass in its full glory.

"Uuuuh," you almost forget that you're eating, your egg falling off the fork and onto your lap. Jumbles gobbles it up before you even think about grabbing it. "Jee-uh-yeah. Started feeding him scraps, probably shouldn't have done that, and then he kinda just started listening to me. I read that on Tatooine Tusken Raiders keep them as hounds, so I thought that maybe they're just partial to bonding with sentient beings."

Honestly, you'd always been good with animals. An uncanny, unnatural, totally unexplainable ability you'd possessed since you were a kid and ran into a wild dewback and nearly pissed yourself. Instead of swallowing you whole, the dewback had palmed your hand and then trotted off. The canyons were host to a plethora of fauna, many of which were quite dangerous. Having Jumbles had actually saved your skin more often than not, as the canine was keen on keeping his source of food around. 

"When they're raised from pups they are," Paz informed you.

"Oooh. Well, I found Jumbles when he was an adult," you gave the dope a fond pat on the head. He leaned into your gloved grasp and harrumphed contentedly. "Maybe he was already trained and got lost." Yeah, that sounded more logical than your weird animal whispering abilities. "He's been good. If not for him, I don't think I would have found you. He's the one who led me over to your starship." And that's when you realized something. "H-hey, Jumbles is living and your helmet-"

"I'm not worried about a massiff seeing me," Paz chuckled. "I'm not going to shoot your dog."

"I-I didn't say you were," you stammer, heart fluttering a little bit as you gripped one of the massiff's spines to comfort yourself. He could very easily shoot your dog. Did he want to shoot your dog? You didn’t think so, but you weren’t keen on losing him.  "Just you said no living thing and then you'd only take your helmet off alone..."

"No living sentient thing," he corrected, his silverware clattering before the helmet clicked back into place. A tiny wave of disappointment washed off you, almost as if you were expecting to get a little more time with his raw unfiltered voice. "Thank you for breakfast. Good as always." 

You blushed slightly at the compliment. It was just simple food, hearty enough to keep you going throughout the day. Standing up, you nearly whirled into the Mandalorian's chest as you went to retrieve his things for him. Catching yourself before you did, you offered an apologetic smile before frisking the plate from him and placing it in the sink for later. It was a sonic sink, you were very careful about how water was used. Only for food and growing plants. 

Out by the front door you grabbed your outing belt, which had your blaster and a set of tools that you'd been using. Picking up the sack beside it, laden with a few canteens, ration bars, and holobooks you glanced back at Paz. He still didn't have his armor on, but he did adorn his belt with a vibro-blade and pistol. "C'mon," you told him, offering a small wave before striding out the front door and into the crisp, sunny morning.

Drinking in a deep breath of dry air, you gave a dizzying and pleased smile before beginning to talk. "Now, I told you that I borrowed your speeder bike to get us back up here. There was a bit of damage to it since it took a beating during the crash. Most superficial, which I managed to get the dings out of the metal and replace the exhausts which were nearly crushed. Probably needs a new paint job, but I didn't have any paint laying around," you explained, bringing him over to the bike. You'd doted a bit of time on it, because you knew bikes and it was easy for you to fix. Plus it was nicer than the one you had on the farm, so you'd been using it to go back and forth between the ranch and his starship. 

Paz's helmet was craned down as he gave the bike a one over and your original pride began to fizzle out with each beat of silence. Finally, "You did a really good job. It... didn't take up too much of your time, did it?"

"Hm? Oh no, not at all. Bikes are easy, fixed plenty of bikes in much worse condition than this," you gave it a fond pat, relief flooding you that he wasn't upset that you'd fiddled with it. "But this isn't what I wanted to show you," you climbed on. "Hop on!"

Paz chuckled at your overexuberance, the way the bike looked much too big for someone of your stature. Afterall, it was his bike and so he'd gotten one that would fit his physique. Your arms were stretched upward to meet the accelerators and it was quite comical from the dopey, excited smile on your face to the way your legs barely reached the stirrups. He sat on behind you, edging up comfortably so that his thighs framed you. 

"Might wanna hang on," you warned mischievously. 

"What, this isn't going to be a leisurely ride?"

"The canyons look much the same when boxed in. Trust me, just hang on," you told him, feeling your cheeks roll was heated pleasure as strong arms encircled you and his pelvis pressed tighter to your backside. Oh, that felt really good, almost enough that you could lean back into his strong embrace and relax as you started this ride. But... No. You chased away the devious thoughts and tried not to fixate on the sturdy Mandalorian behind you as you revved the engine. It purred like a loth-cat, humming deliciously before you kicked off and started whistling down the hill and into the chasm that led into the canyons. 

He wasn't expecting how quickly the two of you rocketed off. Arms tensing around you to prevent himself from sliding right off as gravity snared him, he let out a breathy laugh. "You weren't kidding."

"Tried to warn you," you laughed at him, shouting over the din of the motors that echoed against the canyon walls. Bowing your head ever so much, you went up another gear and stuck the wide turn. He grabbed on again, his chest now flush to your back as you dared to accelerate again. 

"Where-" his voice was breathless in your ear. "Where did you learn how to drive like this?"

"Mom," you grin. "Dad was the engineer. Mom was the podracer."

"Kriff!" he cursed as you hooked the bike, reversed the thrusters, and then sputtered a sharp turn that should not have been possible except for the trick maneuver. During down time and on your long journeys to the city, you'd picked up a thing or two from your mother. Speeder bikes were easy compared to podracers, she'd tell you. Small, streamline, and capable of quite a few tricks if you understood the inertia, gravity, and capabilities of the machine you were on. Passing the signs out for the Jawas, you curved the halt, brakes slamming as the sideways turn kicked up clay sand and dust. He was still clinging to you even after you'd stopped.

"Did I frighten the big Mandalorian?" you teased, his vice grip finally relenting after taking a moment to realize that you stopped. 

Paz's muscles were vibrating from the adrenaline filling him from helmet to boot from the ride. The last thing he'd been expecting from you, the little farmhand mechanic, were daring turns and hiking the bike up to full speed without as much of an ounce of panic as you tried to take a 90 degree turn. Even Paz wasn't as gutsy with a bike to attempt what you had done, but you'd stuck the turn gloriously and were laughing at him now. He hadn't realized that he could like you more, but you were filled with pleasant little surprises. 

"Can you podrace too?" he countered as he let you go and you hopped down, springy, unaffected and brimming with joy. Your hair was scattered a bit, a few curls puffing loose from your scrunchie.

"Never tried, but can't be too difficult," you reply. Not arrogance or mock confidence, just... the comprehension of someone who knew a lot about machines and how they worked. "Now, come take a look. Gotta talk to you about somethings-" you padded away, leaving Paz to dismount and trail after you. 

The ship still had a hole in the hull, landing gear squashed, but the supply crates had been moved back inside. For something that had crash landed, Paz was astonished how intact it appeared. The reason for his confusion was soon explained as you brought him inside and he saw that wires had been soldered off and repairs had been made. 

"So, I've been heading out here when I can to make sure the thing didn't leak its fuel lines everywhere," you started, gesturing to the neatly arranged containers. "Now, I'm not a starship mechanic, but I have a few old holobooks and the manual that was laying around in here. I read up on them and was able to figure out that the fuel line was cut -- managed to fix that -- and the engines were running at 10% capacity after debris got sucked in. That's how the thing didn't explode on impact, the thrusters were still working enough that it padded your landing. 

"Landing gear is shot. I don't have any lifts strong enough to hoist the ship up or the proper caliber of steel to fix the hull. I got the engines to bout 50%, so theoretically that should get you to the spaceport on the other side of the planet. Gonna be crunchy, don't know what's hiding underneath here. So you've got a few options -- try your best to get to the spaceport and the pay for repairs there, you can try to get off planet, though next planet over is Tatooine and you'd pay an arm and a leg for shoddy repairs, or we can try trading with the Jawas. They've got their sandcrawler which might have the capability of picking your ship up, but won't be cheap. Even with my connections they're gonna want something good."

Paz was flabbergasted and at a loss for words as he looked at the work you'd done on top of the farm, on top of taking care of him, and how candid you were about what solutions he had going forward. "How did you have the time to do all this?" he asked.

"Hm?" you were looking over at a few wires that needed to be routed properly. "Uh, lots and lots of caf."

No wonder you had passed out for over 16 hours yesterday. Additionally, you'd read dry holobooks on starships and for what? To help him? At this point he knew that you weren't expecting anything out of it. He'd not been to a lot of backwater planets, but he was beginning to realize that people like you were more common in these quiet remote locations, just happy to be helping. Why that nearly broke him right there, he couldn't say, but he was absolutely moved by your selfless compassion that you didn't even really acknowledge, because it was all so natural to you. A little gem in the canyons, hiding up on your plateau farming water. 

"What do I owe you? Repairs like this cost a lot... you've saved me a lot of credits, Tranyc."

You were a little distracted, admittedly, your eyes finding the problems you hadn't remedied yet. "Owe me?" you repeated before finally looking back toward the visor. "You're my guest. Don't worry about it. Consider it a little bit of desert hospitality. There's still some work I need to do, haven't gotten round to it, but I figured you'd want to see your ship."

He didn't owe anything. How didn't he owe anything? Paz was shell shocked as you turned away, removing a set of pliers from your tool belt as you started working on the frayed wires that were getting on your nerves. People always wanted something, no matter how minute or simple it was and yet... You were fiddling along, pleased as a womp rat in sand you continued to chug along as if he weren't even there. And you'd learned how to do this in weeks? Taught yourself how to do it? Your parents had to have been smart and if your father studied at university on Coruscant -- you might've been modest about it, but that meant he'd imparted the same years of study into you while you grew up. 

He knew how to make baseline repairs, how to weld, and keep the ship from falling apart. What you were doing -- he had no idea how to do. Truthfully, the gunship needed a lot of work before it was going to be good enough to leave the planet and you were correct -- parts were needed. Sitting on a storage crate, he placed his helmet in his palm and rubbed his aching ribs, trying to think of which path would be the best option. Going to the spaceport meant that he'd leave you behind. He also didn't know how much repairs were going to cost on this planet. Flying to Tatooine was just a bad decision all around, who knew if the ship could handle it. Then trading with Jawas... It would keep him around you for a bit longer and you knew the Jawas. He was bound to have something that they wanted aboard the Kote. He could also use a talented mechanic, but somehow doubted that you'd be willing to part with your farm. 

The way you'd talked about your home, you were very proud of it and you loved the landscape. But still... all alone... he didn't like the thought of that. Even if this planet was relatively safe, what if the Jawas found your body in the canyon ravines? 

He had been lost to his thoughts as you worked, the ship heating up in the midday sun. You'd flipped down the straps of your coveralls to work and that's when he noticed. A thin sheen of sweat decorated your arms, a few curls sticking to your face as you hunched over the controls for his cryo chamber. But that wasn't what attracted his attention. No, it was the swell of your breasts beneath the fitted shirt you wore, the perky mounds that were well sized for your slender form. The fabric left little to the imagination, mostly because you weren't wearing a bra. Why would you? You lived on your own and bras were awful, constricting things that made you even clammier on hot days. Plus they were stupidly expensive. 

The coveralls usually kept them hidden, but with the thick panel of fabric cast down, Paz was staring. He'd been distracted by your lower half yesterday, but not his fixation was on the top. How could you look so good in just a tight fitting shirt that didn't betray any cleavage? He estimated that each would be more than a handful for him, the nipples pressing through the fabric and you didn't notice, completely unaware of the lack of decorum because you were a farmer and those sort of things probably didn't pop into your mind. Which was why he felt a tiny bit ashamed watching you, eying you from the protective mask of his helmet. Would you want him to touch you again? You had told him that you'd been getting off to him, but perhaps that was in the moment when he'd caught you.

Neither of you had broached the subject this morning, but nor were you being incredibly demure or shy. You were just being normal. 

"Wanna toss me a canteen from in there?" you asked, pointing to the bag you'd dumped by the hole in the hull. 

Paz tore his eyes away, glancing down, retrieving the requested item. Tossing it to you, you caught it and upcapped it, taking a few generous gulps and spilling some on yourself. He gritted his teeth as you wiped your mouth, the soft plush lips having been locked around the rim, the water seeping into your shirt. Your shirt. Dank farrik. Now he was staring again, hopelessly pressing his palms together as he tried to keep it together. Stars, he wanted more of you than just the bit of pleasure he'd brought yesterday, but it wasn't his place to take it. You'd already gone above and beyond in assisting him and so he couldn't just ask you to sleep with him, no matter how much he wanted it. That felt... wrong. Like a dirty, awful thing to request after he'd come to like you -- only utilizing you for your body in the end and not the company he'd grown fond of.

"Did you think about what you're gonna do?" you ask him, drawing his visor back up to you.

"The Jawas--" his voice was kinda hoarse, which made you tilt your head. "Might have something on here that they'd like."

A smile unfurled on your face, because secretly you'd been praying that he'd choose that option. Just stealing more time with the Mandalorian, despite the fact that he was stranded. You didn't want him to leave, but it was going to happen eventually, just like it did with everyone else who came here. Everyone left. Everyone but you and the animals. You were pretty sure you were gonna cry like a baby when the Mandalorian finally departed. "I can send 'em a transmission tonight. Probably will take them the better part of a day to get here, but they'll come."

"Thank you again," Paz insisted, but you brushed it off with a silly and overly dramatic hand wave. 

"There's gotta be some kindness in this galaxy. 'Else it'd be a sad, miserable, hopeless place," you counter, springing back to your feet, dusting your gloves off animatedly. "Let's finish up in here and then head back. Got some work I have to do on the farm too."

Sonic showers weren't the best, but they were all that you knew. Aside from when the rain would billet down during the wet seasons, you didn't know what an actual water shower felt like. Either way, you needed to get the sweat and grime off of you by the end of each day, so you trotted out with your pajamas on and into the Mandalorian. You'd already contacted the Jawas and were getting ready to tuck in for the night when he caught you. "Oof, sorry... I-I didn't hurt your ribs did I?" Your eyes flitted to where his injury was immediately.

"I'm fine," he assured you, large hands butterflied against your sides where he'd caught you from doing too much damage by trolloping right into his chest. Big. His hands were big. So large that they covered your ribs entirely when gripping your sides. They lingered, the skin beneath growing hot and beginning to tingle. Then he removed them, as if he were worried about overstaying his welcome. 

Your skin sighed where he released and you glanced up chewing your lip. "Um..." uncertain -- you didn't know where this was going, but why the hell not. What did you have to lose? He was stuck here until his ship was going to be fixed. "Yesterday--"

"I'm sorry, I really shouldn't have done that," Paz interrupted, launching your heart up into your throat.

"Wha-no, I liked it," you assured him, feeling courageous enough to take his hands in yours. Maker, you looked like a child, holding those large calloused palms in yours. "I... wouldn't mind more. I-i-if that's what you want, of course," you sputtered, cheeks sweltering and ears about to rocket off from the intense embarrassment you felt in suggesting such a thing. It'd been easier before. You could see the faces of your guests, gauge what they were thinking, see the lust in their eyes that you could give right back. They'd never stayed this long, never gotten to know you this well, and... you didn't want to make him uncomfortable because you felt a little horny with him around. But Maker, how was that not possible? He was an absolute unit, pure muscle, easy conversation, and had a voice that shattered your resolve like an earthquake.

"Would I want more?" he repeated slowly and your stomach sunk into the abyss, blood draining from your face. The leap of faith had been in vain and instead of swan diving into water, you'd hit stone. And then suddenly his hands were on your chest, driving the air from your in uncontrolled gasps as he squeezed. "Maker--" he cursed, vocoder breaking up as you almost melted on the spot. "So... you're so mesh'la. Had my eyes on you all day while you were working. You're such... a distraction."

He wasn't rough, despite holding onto your breasts, moving carefully over the fabric as he caressed you. In the past, your chest had been a fixation of other lovers because you were well endowed and you were accustomed to rough squeezing to the point where it was painful. It was almost as if most men just wanted to push them until they popped or just liked the pillowy sensation of squeezing and didn't care much for how it felt for you. They were bloody sensitive and you didn't appreciate them being manhandled -- except for right now, right now was good. Better than good in fact. 

"Distraction? I'm the one doing all the work," you mumbled, leaning into his touch as he palmed you and rubbed circles over your breasts, the nipples stiffening beneath the fabric and dimpling it. "While you just... just sit there."

"I'm still hurt," he didn't sound very convincing, maybe that wasn't the point. 

"Too hurt to be doing anything too... arduous," you pointed out, humming as he gave another gentle squeeze. "Last night did you-- I sort of just--" passed out. Say it. You passed out and left him there with an erection. That couldn't have been too pleasant. To top it off with a cherry, he'd put you to bed with clothes on. 

"I took care of things, mesh'la. You left me with some... good visuals," his thumb was circling your nipple, still separated by your shirt, the careful flicking making you shudder. Your entire body was reacting, legs weak and the same radiating heat vibrating between your thighs. 

"Bu-ut it couldn't have been that great. N-not like..." you fell off, head lolling slightly as his hands flipped the hem of your shirt and began cruising the plane of your tummy, scratching its way to your breast. A hot palm met skin, a low moan echoing as he grasped you firmly, but not too hard. 

"Stars, you're so soft," he murmured, pushing the shirt up -- higher and higher until your breasts were revealed to the air. "Maker, look at you."

The praise made your thighs clench together. They didn't usually talk. Not as much as Paz was, which was somewhat ironic considering he had a helmet on and was a mysterious Mandalorian and yet he filled your ears up as he roamed you. No, it was all typically rushed, frenzied, and to sate both parties. Honestly, the sate part was just the rutting, having to take your own hands to your clit while your past lovers plowed into you. There was no copious foreplay aside from a little making out and breast squeezing and while they'd called you pretty, it never really felt the same as the way as Paz's voice. The way in which he was breathy, as if he couldn't believe his eyes, and that you'd been put on the planet delicately by the Maker himself. It made your heart rush, galloping forward, and it made you want him more.

"Le-let me," you found your hands, having been savoring his exploring before brushing the hem of his trousers. You had felt him, sort of, yesterday but you didn't actually know what was beneath the belt. From how tall and broad he was, you had an assumption of what was there. "Y-you're still hurt, s-so..." pitifully tinny, your voice was sliding away as you offered to give him something in exchange for what he'd done for you.

"Mesh'la... I-you have already done so much-" he protested. 

"But yesterday--" you were whining now, hand coasting down more until you cupped his groin, feeling his length twitch. He was already hard. You weren't even undressed and he was already rock solid. "It'll feel better this way."

"Is... is that what you want?"

You nod, waiting for permission.

He couldn't say no. Not while your palm was between his legs and you were staring up at him with big, round, imploring eyes. In fact, he didn't think he could possibly deny you anything, removing his hands, the shirt falling back down over your spectacular chest. "I-Yes," he confirmed, drawing a shaking breath which made his ribs ache. 

You undid the belt buckle, hands scrambling slightly from nerves before undoing the buttons. Coming down on your knees didn't really work, there was still too much of a height difference, forcing you to half-crouch as your fingers slipped beneath the fabric of his boxes and untucked his manhood. Now it was your turn to be wordless. You had expected it, but expecting and witnessing were two very different things. He was massive, just the sight of him making your core twitch painfully, imagining trying to accommodate him, doubting that he'd even be able to fully sheath himself in you without pushing into your tummy. If he could even get in. 

Ok, so when you had offered to do this you thought he would fit in your mouth. Doubt welled in your stomach and he must have noticed as you stared down his cock, brushing a hand over your loose hair. "You don't have to-" he soothed. But the challenge spurned you on, undaunted and a little over zealous to be honest. 

"You'll tell me... what you like?" you had just flattened your tongue against the weeping head of his cock, licking like a kitten, lathing him before you'd attempt to take more. 

His thighs shook and he gave a terse nod. 

You weren't extremely experienced in this field. Just enough that you knew now not to bite someone. But this wasn't just 'someone'. You liked Paz a lot and wanted it to feel good for him. To chase away the pain in his chest and to show how much you appreciated what he'd done for you. Guys liked blowjobs, didn't they? That's why they were requested so much, you just assumed that he'd like it all the same, and honestly you wanted to become more intimate with his cock after feeling it pressed beneath your leg. 

You ran your tongue along his shaft, trailing back around before leaving saliva. Your hand smoothed the wetness over him, pumping a few times over his length to help lubricate him. Then you made your first attempt, tongue over your lips as you pushed his girth into the damp chasm of your mouth. He groaned, fingers tightening in your hair, which gave you the courage to take him deeper. The head of his cock met the resistance of the back of your throat and you gagged, eyes watering and jaw aching. "Relax, mesh'la. Relax your throat-" he managed gently through tight breaths. 

Easier said than done, forgetting to breathe, your throat clenching, you were forced to pull away for a moment.

Spittle trailed down your plush lips, cheeks flushed wildly as you considered your next approach. You were a sight for sore eyes, Paz's own glued to you as you gasped for air. You'd bitten off more than you could chew, but he admired your undaunted commitment as you sank back onto him and closed your eyes, clutching onto his leg for balance. This time, you were able to take his guidance better, breathing through your nose before easing your throat. Your mouth was small, tight, and damp. With the accommodation of the back of your throat, Paz's hips bucked and a strangled moan crackled through the modulator. 

"G-good. Fuck -- so good, mesh'la," he praised, beginning to move in tandem with you, fucking deeply into your throat. Your face was hot and wet, tears leaking out from your eyes at the sensation of your throat being stretched. The noises were wet and sloppy, punctuated by sharp hums as you tried to do well, to do what he wanted, to keep going -- but Maker, it hurt. Your attention was fixated completely on pleasing him, forgetting entirely about your own climbing heat, just trying not to clench your throat or forget to breathe through your nose. Then you dared it, reaching up and grabbing his balls, massaging them in your palm gently as he pushed into you. "Ahh- oh, fuck-- I'm going to cum. Do you want me to--"

You managed the smallest nod, squeezing him tighter as his thrusts rocked you, shattering almost all your resolve as you gagged. Ropes of cum splattered in the back of your throat, your lips suctioning to him as he stuttered to a halt, palm on the back of your head. His skin was like velvet on your tongue, slightly salty, but smooth and soft. Lavishing the last drops from his cock like precious water from the desert. In fact, it was more precious than water, more rare.  

"Mesh'la... ohh," he keened softly, his hand spreading over your hair, petting you, brushing the curls from your face - which was wet with spilled tears, saliva, and a little cum. Releasing him from your sweet mouth, he brushed the white droplets from the corner of your lips, which you sucked off after it being offered. "W-what did I do?"

You tilted your head in confusion.

"What did I do to deserve you?"

You tried to talk, but your voice crackled in the back of your throat, so hoarse and quiet that you simply shut your mouth and blinked. Oh fuck. Had he broken your vocal chords? Panic began to seize you and you clutched his leg and offered a very broken, "UhhhmmMm."

He bent down, cupping your face, holding it between his palms as he took a good look at you. "I was a little too rough, wasn't I?"

"S'okay," fuck that hurt. Hurt to talk. Least you still had a voice.

"What do you want? Do you want me to--" His helmet was so close, almost brushing your nose as he looked at you. For a brief moment, you felt as if you were gazing into his eyes. What color were they? Brown? Green? Hazel? Maybe blue? 

You shook your head and gave him a weary smile. That had literally taken everything out of you and you just wanted a cold glass of water and to curl up in bed. "Water. Sleep?..." you had to swallow again, struggling to get the words out. "W-with you?"

"Just... that?"

Oh no, had you chosen wrong? Did he really want to play with you? Honestly, you were good. Just making him finish had been enough for you. Your legs and throat ached, it had been a long day. You offered a dejected nod. No one ever really cuddled with you and you assumed that he'd be warm, comfortable, and feel like a blanket of protection. You wanted to feel that, even if only just once. Having sex wasn't as important as this to you. Sure, sex with him would probably be amazing, but you didn't want to overexert him because you were being greedy. Despite getting it infrequently, you'd never gotten a good cuddle. Not since you were a little girl and curled up in your parents' arms.

"Ok, ok, mesh'la," he agreed, smoothing your hair again before pushing his helmet to your brow. The gesture lit your cheeks up and felt... strangely intimate. Cool beskar kissing your sweating skin, chasing away the sweltering blush and just a thin layer between you and the Mandalorian. It felt like a kiss, but it wasn't. So gentle and tender that you let it linger and closed your eyes. "C'mon, it's been a long day," he muttered, gripping you beneath your elbow and guiding you to your feet. Your bed was just a few paces away and you were already dressed for it. 

Who would have thought that a Mandalorian could be this... kind? From all the stories you'd heard, you had half-expected him to be a broody tin can that barely offered you the time of day. But there was a man underneath, a man who had desires, who had feelings, and who could be delicate. He wasn't all blasterfire, beskar, and war -- he was still a man. 

He put you into bed, leaving the room for a moment to get a glass of water. You smiled at his return, accepting the offered water, and gulping it down. Your throat ailed and your jaw was already beginning to groan in protest. But the water helped. Putting it down on the nightstand, the Mandalorian removed his boots and climbed into bed with you, just trousers and an undershirt. Offering an open arm, his impressive bicep being revealed from beneath the short sleeve of his shirt. 

You snuggled forward, heart pounding solidly in your ears as you tucked into his side. Maker, you loved this, the way his arm coiled around you, planting against the small of your back before tugging you in tightly. It wasn't as if you didn't feel safe in your home, you always did, but this was different. You trembled slightly because you'd yearned for this proximity, not just a rush of passion, but what came after and the security of him. From the strength of his muscles, to heat of his skin to yours, and the smell of him so close. This is what had been missing. The last piece to the puzzle that was home, the rut in your belly and soul curling pleasantly as you melted into him. Please never end. But you knew morning would come and one day he'd have to leave like everyone else. And you knew that day would be soul shattering. Because once again, you'd be alone.