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no-droids · 4 years ago

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gif credit: @javier-pena

Part Eighteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 19.5K

Warnings: SMUT, religion kink (maybe?), squirting, consensual stalking/pursuing, canon-typical violence, mention of underage drinking, uhh I believe that’s it but as always, let me know if I’ve forgotten anything please!

A/N: Hey yall!!! So I know this chapter has been a long time coming and though I’m not completely satisfied with it, I hope it brings a little happiness to you for an hour or two while you read! School has been kicking my ass and I’ve been in a bit of an emotional slump recently, but I pulled a few all-nighters to post this on time and it’s finally finished! Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me and sent me encouraging words over the past month or so, I hope you enjoy the end of the Sanctuary arc💕

Also like last time, part 2 of my collaboration with @followwhereshegoes will be posted after the chapter!! As a reminder, sweet girl is a reader insert and every imagining of her will be different—this is Lisa’s interpretation of her and her artwork is absolutely gorgeous, so please go give her a follow!

Day 5–11:13am:

You zone out again in the early morning, but that happens a lot. Din always keeps you up so late, all the time, and without any caf here, the rising sun just makes your eyes droop instead of flutter brighter and wider. You helped a bunch of younglings find their way into their robes when it was still dark out, tying sashes and fitting masks while holding back your yawns. The walk into Nariss is close to three hours, probably more with all these tiny little legs, and you almost forget to change into your new digs before everyone grabs breakfast.

Even though your ragtag entourage leaves for Nariss just as soon as everyone finishes eating, you don’t reach the city until nearly lunchtime. Mostly because the kids walk about as fast as the elderly holy women chaperoning the trip. You and Naydee lag behind the group, forcing yourself to meander slow as fuck when you nearly sprinted this same exact path just a few days ago. On the way there, you listen to children of all sorts sing happily as they walk, chatter about their excitement for the parade, complain about wearing the fabric mask they made themselves, and more than once, somebody takes a tumble onto the ground and is left in teary sniffles and dirt stained clothes. Likely for this reason, the robes are designed to be two pieces—a long tunic with a hood and a separate pants portion to prevent tripping instead of a draping skirt, but the smallest ones are clumsy and find a way to fall anyways.

It’s a colorful bunch—a chaotic rainbow of babies running around, and you share easy conversation with your new friend about the plans for the day until she asks something that makes you nearly trip and join the dirty robe club.

“Sister Drya said your family is meeting you in the city,” she tells you, ignoring your immediate subtle toe stub and the awkward shuffle you have to do to make up for it. “There’s going to be lots of people downtown, I’m worried it might be hard for them to find you.”

Your heart thuds in your chest and you feel a bit short of breath at being abruptly confronted with the need to lie, but at the same time, you kind of love it. Having a secret, hiding the truth from others, and just the reminder that you’re almost guaranteed to see Din and the baby before midnight pours warmth and tingles through your tummy. Everything together is a hit of spice, filling you with a kind of excitement that used to be foreign to you. Having fun, experiencing new things isn’t quite over yet, but home is calling and you miss it with every fiber of your being.

“I don’t think so,” you eventually respond, hoping she can see your kind smile and the sentiment it carries even as light, shimmery fabric wraps right around your mouth. “If I disappear, you’ll know why.”

Naydee’s eyes crinkle in the corners to match yours. “Hopefully you’ll be able to see the fireworks first,” she nudges you, her skin glowing against the pale cream fabric she has wrapped around her own mouth and the hood laying delicately over her braids. “They start at eight.”

The fireworks, you almost forgot. You know what? Today is a good day. You hear yourself think the full sentence multiple times, and the words put a spring in your step after every single one. The road gradually becomes wider and filled with more travelers, and you feel safe in the back. Like some kind of sheepdog bringing up the rear of this migrating cluster of children, making sure none of them drift off by themselves and start eating grass or something.

Surprisingly, the kids manage to be relatively patient and well-behaved once they’re in line at the gates. The Sisters shuffle them along one by one as everyone moves up slowly, taking even longer to get into the city than it did a few days ago. The entrance is packed already—so many people visiting for the festival, and they’re all dressed in costumes or robes of sorts, or at least a mask. Most are beautifully crafted, but some manage to look slightly scary even with the soft springtime color schemes. It’s a completely different world, a different life for each person as you pass them by. Your stomach is starting to growl by the time you finally make it to the front, and luckily the guards just let the kids through without any ceremony. Just you and the rest of the caretakers in light robes need to hold still for the retinal scan, matching each other perfectly except for differing shades of fabric, skin, and eye color. Once the gates open for you and you step through, though… it’s… Maker.

Extravagant, magnificent are both words. Floral is another.

It’s like they hung up bouquets wherever they could think to fit them, and this is just the edge of the city. As the group moves through the streets and closer to downtown, it becomes more and more overwhelming. The air itself is a warm fragrance wafting all around you, sunshiney and breezy and perfect, flowers of all kinds lining the modern buildings and archways like they were planted there from the very beginning and it just took this long to bloom between the cracks in the concrete. You wish you had names for all of them so you could list them—the only thing you can offer is the color and vague descriptions of the ones that stick out to you. Tiny yellow ones that are so small, they need to be bunched all together in massive quantities to even resemble normal flowers. Up overhead, elaborate arrangements of enormous blue and purple and pink ones, wrapping around each other and hanging down from rooftops. Some don’t even have petals, it’s like they’re big green cups that are big enough to hold things inside them. You’re fascinated by every single one, wanting to stop and smell them all individually but needing to keep up with the large group and not allow any stragglers to be left behind, including yourself.

About an hour later, when you’re almost in the middle of the city and there are people everywhere, it’s time to eat lunch. There isn’t much to it because of how expensive it is, and you’d normally feel bad for accepting the small meal each one of the children gets, but you donated all of your credits to the Keja and left absolutely zero for yourself. Good intentions, terrible idea. Still, you pull your mask down and snack on some deliciously fried food, trying not to eye anyone else’s platter after you finish yours. It’s so good and it’s gone in an instant; you couldn’t even say what exactly it was besides which stall you got it at. Whether it’s just the brilliant atmosphere or if the food on this moon is really just that good, you’re not really sure, but you’re still slightly hungry afterwards with no extra money to sneak a snack.

Soon after, the kids all line up to get their faces painted, or whatever portion of their face is visible behind the cloth masks and hoods they’ve got on, and music blares from at least four different directions and none of the songs are even in the same language. Depending on the part of town, it seems like the celebrations are all different. It makes sense, considering most if not all of these individuals were victims of the Empire’s wrath, spread far and wide across the galaxy. Here, they’re free, and they want everyone to know it. Spring festivals of some sort are likely common for most cultures, at least those from planets with seasons, not like Arvala-7 where it was arid and hot year-round, and you’re assuming there are multiple things being celebrated today depending on which street you live on. There’s chanting in different tongues, dancing and drums, outfits and masks from different cultures every single time you look.

At some point, the children spot a crowded street with flowery rails set up all along them, and you stand behind the tiny heads while everyone waits for the parade to begin. You think your heart has just been beating slightly faster than normal all day today, but when you finally hear the sound of sirens blaring in the distance and cheers begin to pour out from the gathered crowd, it kicks up and you feel like you’re just as wide eyed at the spectacle as the waist-high babies all huddled together up against the railing.

A flurry of people and things pass in slow succession. First, New Republic officers with their blaring holobikes, bright orange as always. Then come large groups of people walking behind banners in languages you can’t read, some of them waving, some of them making different sounds and songs. Bands marching in formation, dancers in dresses and masks and gorgeous flowers in their hair like crowns, and then brilliant hovering vehicles decorated in bright colors and festive depictions. The craftsmanship and cultural significance is stunning to witness, it’s so insanely loud, there’s so much going on, and yet…

Through it all, you think of Din. No matter the faces, the sights you see. There’s someone juggling. There’s either a very tall man and woman walking together or they’re both on stilts. There are enormous balloons being led through the air, people are riding atop an assortment of animals you’ve never seen before, there are traditional costumes and spectacular stunts being performed. Stalls with games and prizes line the stretches of concrete on the cross streets, people are laughing and celebrating and drinking in equal parts, everything is so lively and festive and fun, and yet, though it all, you think of Din. Him and the baby, they’re always in the forefront of your mind, occupying your thoughts and making your tummy stir more and more as the time passes like the parade in front of you. You don’t think this environment would ever be his favorite, and in some far away galaxy, perhaps if you lived other lives together and called a beautiful moon exactly like this home, then you might have to drag him out to see all the with you and the kid every year. You’d have to bat your eyelashes and kiss his cheek and snuggle up to him all nice and pretty like, and he’d probably grumble and complain about it while wrapping his arms around you—all the people and the noise, sweet girl—but he’d go. For you, he’d go.

Your thoughts suddenly stop short and you blink for a second. Why… Why was that scene so vivid? So wistful? You used to preoccupy yourself with fantasies about Din all the time, back before you even knew him as Din. But in every single one, it was sexual and likely came from a place of boredom, a lack of external stimulation. Here you are amidst bustling surroundings, and you’re daydreaming about domesticity with him. Why? You want to travel the galaxy, right? You want to see things you’ve never seen before, right?

For some reason, you think of the floor, and you miss it.

***

Day 5—5:04pm:

It’s late afternoon at this point and nobody can find the teens.

More people have made their way into the city and it’s starting to get extremely fucking crowded, especially where you are downtown, and the handful of them must’ve slipped away with all the excitement happening and how difficult it is to keep the young ones together now that the parade is over. You don’t know how long they’ve been gone—one second they were walking around just slightly detached from the rest of you, you assumed because the boisterous younglings fucked with their cool vibe, and then the next Naydee is gasping out to you that they’re gone.

“Sister Drya is going to kill me,” she hisses, her dark eyebrows furrowed in self-admonishment and stress. So many fucking people here, you know her pain. “I was supposed to be chaperoning them, they were just here—”

She shakes her head under the loose, cream-colored hood, groaning and then speeding up her gait to catch up with the woman in charge, but you decide to grab her wrist before she can relay the bad news.

“I can go find them,” you offer, speaking as low as you can with the blaring noise surrounding you. “Before anyone knows they’re missing. Is there a way to convince everybody to stay in one spot for a little while? You won’t get in trouble, but I need to know how to find you again.”

Naydee’s eyes widen in surprise, and even though it’s likely a bit out of character for you, you have a feeling it’ll be a deceptively easy task. Even with the masses right now and how atrociously big this city is, you already have a general idea of where they’re likely to be. Besides, you’re not even sure your absence will be noticed if Naydee is the only one who figured out the teens were gone—the other Sisters can thrive without you while missing anyone else would be noticeable, and you owe your new friend a thousand favors for helping you out these past few days. The least you can do is save her from the scolding of one of the scariest old ladies you've ever met.

“Be as quick as you can,” she finally agrees. It’s a lot of trust to put into you, but you’ve had experience in reading the most unreadable man in the entire galaxy, some teenagers shouldn’t pose too much of a problem. “If you’re not back in thirty minutes or somebody notices, I’ll have to say something.”

You nod, silently breaking away from the group without another word. You think you can hear her announce to everyone that it might be best to eat dinner now to skip any long lines later—smart—but you’re out of their hearing range and line of sight almost immediately.

***

Day 5–5:17pm:

“Really?” You raise an eyebrow since they won’t be able to see the way your mouth is twisted up underneath your mask, crossing your arms and tapping your foot against the ground to further illustrate just how not fucking impressed you are.

Seven teenagers freeze, and slowly—depending on how much bravery they can individually muster—they turn around on their stools to face you. The atmosphere in the tavern is bustling and cheery, booze being passed around a large crowd that laughs and mingles, but your vibe is stone cold and quiet. The contrast doesn’t feel wrong on you like it normally would; the negative and disapproving energy you’re emitting makes you feel powerful, untouchable, armored and strong.

“How did you find us so fast?” One of the twin boys squeaks out behind a light blue robe, sounding worried.

“Had a hunch,” you grumble, glaring sternly at each of them in turn. Your tone is dry, your voice sits lower in your throat when you’re pissed off. All you had to do was look for the closest bar that doesn’t have any orange jumpsuits poking around waiting to card underage younglings, it wasn’t that difficult. “You’re not exactly unpredictable.”

“Are you gonna rat us out?” The other twin asks you, in a voice that’s oddly deep compared to his brother.

“I should,” you snap, quickly reaching out to push their drinks away. “I should let Sister Drya rain down her holy fury on your asses, got good people all twisted up over you for nothing and I’m missing dinn—”

You don’t know why, but you suddenly cut yourself off and jerk upright, spinning around.

The sounds of glasses clinking and boisterous voices fill the bar, but they seem to fade out for a second. Your eyes fly around the crowded space, your heart lodged in your throat and looking for anything reflective. Every flash you see is a false alarm—belt buckle, wristwatch, cocktail shaker—

He’s here… isn’t he?

Only, there’s nothing. Nothing is out of place, nothing jumps out at you the way you’re assuming it will. You’re braced taut and ready to bolt at the first sign of a chase, but it never comes.

It’s so… unexpected, this feeling. It’s not like you’re being hunted anymore, but instead, you’re the hunter. You’re feeling the weight of him from this far away and it’s like he’s calling for you to come find him, teasing the wild adrenaline rush you get from just feeling his presence, as if he absolutely knows it happens. Whispering soft in your ear and then vanishing the second you’re able to turn around, like he’s here but he’s not. Playing with you from so far away.

This… this is a taunt.

The whole thing at the inn was leagues below this, that was rudimentary. Teasing, getting even, having fun with each other, whatever you want to call that, that’s what it was. This is scarily sophisticated. Fluid and practiced and the best kind of frightening, stark and dangerous compared to the carefree and upbeat setting surrounding you. You’re not making it up, it’s not just you being paranoid. You know him with your eyes closed. You know he’s here somewhere watching you, just like you know the starlight that streaks across the pitch black horizon of hyperspace. Not because you can see it, not really, not directly. But because by it, even in the vastest and darkest and emptiest of voids, you’re suddenly able to see everything else.

“You okay, Nerida?”

The volume gradually comes back up and you blink, suddenly remembering where you are, who else is with you. The chatter becomes slightly louder than it seemed before.

“Yeah,” you eventually say, slightly airy while continuing to stare emptily at the crowded room. He’s not here, you don’t think, not anymore at least. But you’re not stupid, you know what this means. You’re already caught, there’s nothing you can conceivably do that will delay the reunion for the next—you look down and pull the loose sleeve up to check your communicator—seven fucking hours, there’s no way. He’ll pull back and follow you, keep up with you from a distance and then snatch you away right when you let your guard down. You at least need to get the kids back to their guardians before that can happen, though.

“Let’s go,” you quietly tell the group of foundlings, grabbing elbows and hauling them out of their stools. “Naydee was the only one who knew that you were gone when I left. Here’s to hoping she managed to keep it that way.”

***

Day 5–5:32pm:

Against all odds, you’re able to rally the wayward teens and successfully lead them through shoulders that are beginning to move closer together as the crowd grows and grows. You stay towards the back and don’t look behind you once—not only do you not want to give the younglings an unnecessary reason to become paranoid or to question your actions, but you can still feel Din lingering. Moving like a shadow, probably fitting in perfectly with the masked festival-goers, nothing drawing any attention to him with all the spectacular sights and noise occurring.

Soon you return to the same spot from before, and you and the teenagers seamlessly integrate yourselves back into the rest of the group without anyone noticing a thing is out of place. When you move to stand beside her, Naydee’s bone-deep sigh of relief is palpable even behind the concealing fabric; she squeezes your hand incredibly tight in a silent gesture of thanks, and then pulls something from the deep pockets of her robe and passes it to you sneakily. A purple fruit. She must’ve saved it for you.

Maker, fuck yes. It’s not much but it’s more dinner than any of the seven troublemakers get, but Naydee quietly assures you they’ll be able to eat something once they return to the Keja around midnight, just not the tasty expensive treats they’re selling at the vendors. As the sun goes down, you try not to stain your pretty fabric a deep maroon as you chomp and feel your lips start to curl upwards. It sounds so fucking stupid when you put it like this, but you keep going back to Din and revelling in knowing that he’s so close, like you’re just mentally checking in on him. You don’t get the sensation by thinking, though—more like you just focus really hard on your heart and feel him there just a second afterwards.

Is that how pure, stupid, shameless love feels when you’re completely entrenched in it? It’s not like it’s surrounding you, it’s not suffocating you or making you float. It’s just a thing. Like… a thing inside your chest, a physical thing you can search for and find, something you can point to on your body and say it’s right here, this is where my love for him lives. Right at the bottom of your heart, right where it curves and beats strong when other hearts meet flat at sharp angles. You do it over and over again, reconfirming its existence every single time. You don’t know what else you’d call it. Love is the only word. To love, to know. To hold in the heart.

Soon, you start to notice that people are slowly moving around your stationary group. You look up and watch the crowd begin to walk, some of them giving soft smiles to the cute children as they pass by, but all of them following the same unspoken direction.

“Where is everyone going?” You ask Naydee, standing on your tiptoes to watch the crowd migrate like a giant system, an organism or mechanism of thousands (or tens of thousands?) of smaller moving parts all traveling in tandem. It’s fascinating—you’ve been to crowded places, you know what it looks like when a lot of people are packed into one area, but you’ve never seen what it looks like when they all move together. They would normally be bumping into each other, slipping in between, fighting and never really getting anywhere, interacting individually and thinking separately. Now they’re progressing in one single direction, so many with the same mindset and understanding of what comes next. A second parade, almost, with New Republic officers directing the flow of pedestrians as they pass.

“The eastern part of the city!” Naydee yells over the noise and points, and beyond her extended finger, you can barely see the light of a dusky body of water in the distance beyond the buildings. “The fireworks are going to go off over the bay, but it takes awhile to get there!”

“Is…” You blink for a second, suddenly caught off guard, trying to think back to the holomap the concierge pulled up at the front desk of the inn. Surely you would’ve noticed it, but your sudden childlike hope makes you ask anyway. “Is it part of an ocean?”

Naydee shakes her head. “A really big lake!”

Your shoulders drop just the slightest bit in disappointment but still, you ache to see it. You can’t even imagine—the fireworks are likely going to reflect across the water, giving everyone double the view. And luckily, after all the children and caretakers are individually accounted for, you start to behind the slow-moving crowd towards the docks you know lie beyond.

Naydee scurries ahead to keep the kids together, ushering them forward and preventing any drunk passer-bys from accidentally stepping on them, and you quietly bring up the very rear of the entourage. You take the time to observe more than anything, walk in the back and experience instead of trailblaze. So many people, so many stories to be told, so many differences and diversity around you. Your face is partially concealed and you don’t move your head too much, just your eyes. They flick around to take in everything, the crowd thinning little by little as you make it out of the confined space downtown. You’re able to make out full bodies and outfits again instead of just heads and shoulders, allowing you to breathe just a bit easier under your mask.

And then at one point—and it’s almost a little startling because it happens all at once—the organizers must decide that the sun has officially gone down, because the lights come on. All of a sudden, paper lanterns and bulbs flicker into existence all around you and the world decides it wants to glow, glint and twinkle from the inside out. They’re everywhere, draping across rooftops and tangled around street signs and stuffed into the flower bouquets overhead, raining soft colors down on everything. You’re in complete awe, trying to keep walking but also needing to look at as much as fucking possible in the suddenly luminescent city. It’s so colorful, so vernal and warm and you feel like you’re… Like when you took a shower on the Crest for the first time and spent a few happy moments just playing with the water and soap for your own enjoyment, it’s as if all the brilliant rainbow of colors the bubbles would make under the fluorescent light decided to surround you at the same time. You’re inside stained glass, blinking at the flowers and wondering if Din can even smell the air or if it’s filtered, processed and reduced to nothing under the helmet.

And that’s when you see him.

But with the way your chest rapidly constricts and you can count your heart beats as they pound, blaring white noise through your ears and adrenaline through your veins, it’s like he's just allowing it to happen. You immediately understand that you don’t have fucking anything the second your eyes land on him; this isn’t a heads up that you caught wind of early, it’s not a gift or an advantage you’ve incidentally gained over him that you should be thankful for. Being able to see him directly like this, being able to make out all these fucking details from this far away… This just feels like you’re being informed of the endgame right before it comes. If you were anyone else, if you were a real bounty and this was a real hunt, his armor glinting and reflecting the lanterns overhead would feel like a knife you're about to be on the wrong side of.

You have a decision to make, very quickly. Either keep in this same direction, head straight towards him and just pretend like you are who you’re dressed as, a random caretaker for a bunch of rowdy foundlings during a spring festival on Nariss, or disappear. Drop back, move through the crowd and use the distance you have between you right now as your only hope of getting away in time. Neither one gives you a particular advantage—your chances of being caught have already skyrocketed exponentially just being able to see the reflection in his armor, the hovering shield at his side with big black eyes… staring directly at you.

You almost trip over your pantlegs, gasping. Baby. He beams at you and you think he calls out through the passing crowd, his tiny arms extending out, and your chest feels like you’re pulling organs as if they were muscles, cramping up and seizing with emotion. You want to run to them even though you’re meant to be running from them, call out over the noise and wave even though you’re not supposed to. You want to hold the kid again, squish his little forehead with kisses, walk around with Din’s hand pressed against your lower back and see the fireworks with him.

Your hands clutch at the draping fabric covering your chest, pulling and twisting it uncertainly. What do you do, what do you do?

No matter what, you know it’s over. Keep your head down and try to move past him, or break away from your group and try to escape—both are different paths that lead to the same result. What’s the point of running when he’s the one chasing you? The heart-pounding thrill is the only reason you’re even considering it, but his body stands so tall amongst the crowd, not moving while people ebb and flow like a river passing around him.

Except then you can hear his voice repeat the last thing he said to you in person as if he says it directly into the comm in your ear. When you do see me… try to outrun.

You should run—run, it’s better than just hoping he doesn’t see you when you already know he does.

Unless…

Out of a trillion different possibilities, you soon realize that there is exactly one situation in which this could turn out in your favor. You can immediately picture the scenario in your mind, but there’s just too many variables to conceivably rely on getting them all right. This maybe has a… two percent chance of working? Maybe? Everything would have to go perfectly, just fucking flawlessly, but what other choice do you have? Two percent is better than whatever odds you’re dealing with now.

You walk silently behind the group of foundlings as you approach closer and closer, keeping your head purposefully down as they skip and giggle and dance ahead. He knows you’re here—he has to know, you’re counting on him knowing. Walk right in front of him, pretend like you don’t see, make sure you keep left. Keep left, keep left, keep your head down, keep your head down—

A leather glove suddenly catches hold of your wrist hard enough to tug you backwards.

Your gasp is audible over the sound of the crowd and you spin around, jerking your head up to look at him in fear. Your heart slams as the beskar reflects your mask and hood back at you—you’re terrified and it shows, you can see it in your eyes.

You quickly try to yank your hand away, even as your index finger stretches up towards the communicator around his wrist.

“Miss Nerida?” A child’s voice cries, and then small hands grab at you from behind as you bury the urge to actually fight him. Your instincts are demanding you attack when his grip is this strong, but you just whine and struggle, slapping weakly at him with your free hand and feeling more of the younglings begin to pull at you, their high pitched voices calling more and more attention to the scene.

Your gaze flicks to the side, suddenly landing on a pair of New Republic officers helping direct the thousands of moving bodies from the closest street corner. They’re looking at you, pointing and beginning to speak into their own comm units. Din’s helmet snaps sideways to follow your gaze, and then he’s immediately dropping your wrist and stepping back, retreating as quickly as he caught you. Though you don’t want to—though you don’t want to give yourself away even more, you want to pretend fully that he was a complete stranger and the children were right to try to help you get away—your eyes fall to your son in the hovering crib by his side and you feel yourself crumble just a bit.

Just a few more hours, kid. A few more hours.

Children pull you away while your pursuers both disappear into the crowd, and you quickly turn to soothe the tiny babies instead of chasing after the one you miss so terribly.

“I’m alright,” you tell them, scooting them up and encouraging them to continue walking. Blend in, blend in, don’t let anybody think anything is wrong. “Come on, we’re fine, come on, we have to catch up.”

They take your lead as soon as one of the caretakers turns around and sees the small group crowding around you. You think she asks what happened, but you just tell her a man mistook you for someone else and nothing more comes of it. She’s able to settle the chaos better than you are, and by the time you’re continuing to travel forwards once more like nothing happened, the communicator suddenly flicks on in your ear.

“What did you do?” He breathes out, his footsteps moving fast through his voice. He’s traveling much quicker than you expected—is he still being followed? The officers are gone from your sight, they might be going after him right now, weaving between bodies and calling out to the perpetually vanishing glint of armor as he navigates his way out of danger.

You look down at the comm on your wrist and your heart nearly soars with victory. It worked. It worked. You just have to outlast a bit longer, don’t draw any extra attention to it—he’s preoccupied and he certainly doesn’t sound happy, but you hope that’ll be enough to make him slip. Use his frustration to your advantage, let him think the only thing you were successful at was momentarily escaping him.

“The cops weren’t part of the plan,” you admit quietly, keeping your head down as your loose hood billows in the twilight breeze. “Don’t get caught.”

There’s a few moments of just his breathing, his footsteps, and the noise floor humming through the comm, before he finally responds. “You look beautiful.”

You stare unseeingly down at the concrete under your feet, still feeling your hand tingle from where he caught you. The line abruptly mutes on his end and you just keep moving forward, onward, wanting to look back but knowing he’s already long gone.

***

Day 5–5:24pm:

Din is fucking furious.

He had you. You were right there, right in front of him, and even if he hadn’t been subtly trailing you all day, seeing the red footsteps get covered and flicker out of existence just a few moments after you make them, he would’ve recognized you anywhere. In black and white, in the fading light, with your face covered, children calling you by a different name and attaching themselves to you like they’ve known you forever—doesn’t matter, he would’ve known you. Your eyes have always given you away, always so expressive and starry and soft, but able to see right through solid steel whenever you look at him.

But then you slipped from his grasp, and then more guards pushed him further and further away from you. They must all be in constant communication, because every single jumpsuit he sees immediately spots him and starts following. It’s fucking exhausting, and he thinks of you the whole time.

He waits in a dark alley with the kid and taps the side of the helmet a few times to bring up the time on his comm, but then relaxes just slightly when he sees the hour. It’s earlier than he thought it was, he’ll be able to find you again.

Though, something tugs at him while he’s looking at the clock ticking away in front of his eyes, counting down each second that passes. There was… a moment. Back in the square, when he was holding onto you again, when you were looking directly into his once more—everything in his helmet—

No, he shakes his head while the kid looks up at him curiously, it can’t be. It was just a split second, it was gone so fast.

But he can’t get rid of it. Though there’s no explanation, he thinks the display screen flickered. The sky behind you looked different for a single frame, your footsteps weren’t bright red and visible anymore, your eyes weren’t grey and he stopped wondering what shade of fabric you and your friend decided to choose for you to wear. It was silvery, he’s almost certain. Like his armor, it only reflected the color of everything around it.

Color. Everywhere. Bursting for a blink of an eye, and then gone just as quick, before he could actually figure out what it really meant.

***

Day 5–6:59pm:

This water is quiet here, but it sparkles.

It doesn’t ever really get truly dark thanks to the enormous hanging moon and ringed gas giant dancing with Sanctuary II, constantly reflecting light back onto the surface and reacting with some of the trace chemicals up above the atmosphere, and you think the sky just might be the prettiest you’ve ever seen it. Must have something to do with the equinox, the glimmering angles of light being played with by celestial bodies in this stunning system, but it’s a dream. The Maker apparently couldn’t decide which colors he wanted tonight so he just splashed all of them together all at once, let them run and blend like ink in the gentle water below, like the various people who call this moon home.

That view in front of you, coupled with all the flowers and lanterns lining the streets behind you, and you’ve lost track of time the exact same way you hoped Din would. You think you’ve stood for about an hour or so in this one spot, half-listening to excited chatter from the babies, mostly just gazing across the stretch of water and being able to just barely spot the docks in the distance, but it feels like it’s only been minutes.

You check your watch—the fireworks should be starting any second now. You don’t know what to expect, just that in your experience, explosions tend to be loud. You've decided you’re not going to plug your ears, though. Tummy twisting with nerves and another inexplicable feeling you can’t quite put your finger on, you resolve to experience the unknown exactly the way it’s meant to be. Fully, without worry or fear.

Then, lacking any warning or ceremony whatsoever, a single flare launches silent and high from one of the small boats skimming the bay, and the crowd seems to hold its collective breath as the dim light disappears into thin air for a split second, before—

It’s… quite possibly the most dazzling thing you think you’ve ever seen. So shamelessly decorative just for the sake of it, not serving any other practical purpose besides celebration and visual spectacle, and you’ll probably never know another extravagance like it. You grew up with dust pelting against tired eyes, you never thought they’d get to reflect such gorgeous bursts of color back up at the sky, glassy and childlike amongst a group of equally wide-eyed children.

As expected, a deafening boom follows closely behind the singular display, but just witnessing it is incredible enough to make you forget to brace yourself for the sound and you jump almost violently in response. There comes a loud cheer from the people standing around you, a few delighted gasps and children who decide now is the best time to start crying, but then more flares begin to launch from the boats and the subsequent show will sear itself into your memory to replay over and over again.

Still, you think the endless sky and dark water below would have to light on fire to stop him from coming to mind.

Din.

You click the comm on, continuing to stare in stunned awe but wanting nothing more than to hear his voice right now, feel his hand rest on your lower back and the kid’s three fingers squeezing one of yours while the stars rain down from above. You’re only continuing to run from him because it’s expected of you, that’s the reason you’re here, but it’s becoming harder and harder to argue with yourself. “Do you always see in black and white?”

It takes him just a few seconds to respond, but he always does. “Only when I’m tracking someone.”

The loud booms can be heard over the earpiece, happening maybe a second after they crack and sparkle above you. You can’t tell if the latency is due to the electronics or if he’s just that far away from the source of the sound itself, but… you don’t think he is. He feels close again, like he could just walk up right next to you any second, or maybe that’s just how he always feels now.

“Does that mean you haven’t seen the sky here?” You ask after a moment. This whole time, everything has been grey for him?

“I saw it,” Din murmurs, and even though it’s quiet and explosions are thundering loud enough to deafen more sensitive ears, his quiet voice somehow breaks through it all. “When you left the Crest, I saw it behind you.”

For some reason, you suddenly feel like crying. Whether it’s the way he phrases it or the sentiment in the words, you’re close to tears without even knowing why, looking up at the sky illuminating spectacularly. He says it like he wasn’t the one who parked on this moon and told you to go on without him. “Can you… turn it off for just a second?”

He takes a second, before clarifying for you. “I turn it off and I lose your footprints.”

So that was the ultimatum. He doesn’t want to turn it off until you’re back with him again. Does he not understand? Does he not know what you know? Maybe you just happened to feel it first, this overwhelming physical sensation inside you whenever you think about him. It’s like the exact opposite of a hole in your chest. And it’s so odd, so counterintuitive. Being comforted in his absence, feeling him with you when he isn’t. Falling in love in the dark, knowing him without ever seeing him.

“You never needed them,” you say, reaching up to pull your mask down under your jaw and chin for a moment, wanting to freely breathe the freshwater and flowers while stars explode and fracture across the sky. It’s a truth you’re acknowledging, something you’ll carry with you, something you fundamentally own at this point. “You’d find me without the helmet. And I’d find you.”

The fireworks continue to bleed into the water beneath them, multicolor splashes rippling into existence and disappearing just as quick. You could’ve never imagined a more colorful, magnificent landscape—besides your waterfall on Naboo, of course. That was a pure product of nature though, a place hidden away and untouched by people, completely sacred. Light refracting against mist, natural glass that would shatter under your weight. This is a celebration of life and family. Loud in a different way, affecting you in a different way, but just as wonderful and touching. A cultivated paradise, designed to be beautiful and safe only because they wanted it to be.

“Think so?” He asks softly. He sounds so deep and warm, but… a little distant. You’re able to hear it in his words. You don’t know why, though. Doesn’t he believe you? Perhaps… perhaps this isn’t The Way. Perhaps this is part of a completely different oath, one where knowing and loving somebody isn’t the same thing as looking at their face, not at all. Where you can have them exist entirely separate from each other, because this is love. This is real, enduring, bone-deep love, and you haven’t ever seen his face, so how would he explain that? How would the Mandalorians reconcile that? You bear the mark of the mudhorn, you’ve moved through time and space with him, you’re a mother to his son, and you’ve never seen his face. It defies both the Mandalorian oath and traditional understandings of love, or it meets them right in the middle, depending on how you look at it.

“I know so.” For the first time, you think you might sound more confident and certain than he does. Maybe he doesn’t fully get it yet, but then you suppose he’ll just have to trust you. “Will you look at the sky?”

“I see it,” Din tells you, but you know he doesn’t. Not the way you want him to. And stars, you just want so many things for him, don’t you? The sky, fresh air, water, light, food, rest. You want him to see the galaxy the way you do—have a new appreciation for the gifts that are given just because you’re alive to experience them. All the physics and mathematics aligned perfectly for it to happen—all the chemistry, the systems, the dynamics that dictate the universe, they all got together and crafted a world where you, him, and the kid all exist together at the same time. You want him to know the significance of that.

“With color?” You ask, knowing his answer before he seems to.

“I…” Din wants to argue, or at least say it again. He can’t or he’ll lose you, he already told you he doesn’t want to turn the setting off. It’s such an unnecessary conflict, but you want to respect it so much that you’re willing to give up things of your own to make it happen.

“How do I fix it then?” You whisper, so desperately wanting this one thing for him, this one grandeur to behold. How do you fix this problem? How do you convince him to look with you? You’d offer to just go and find him instead of continuing to run away for the next few hours, but you know the show will be over soon and you don’t have much time left. “Do you want me to come look for you? It’ll be too late by then, you’re too far away. Look at the sky.”

It’s silent for a moment—truly silent, even though colorful bombs are going off above the bay. You don’t know why you’ve attached yourself to this so strongly, but it’s almost devastating when you don’t get a response. You look away from the spectacle for the first time in an eternity, gazing unseeingly into the crowd of onlookers with a sudden sadness taking hold of you. He won’t look, he’s too stubborn, he holds onto things too tightly.

But then, a flurry of flares start launching in rapid succession from the distant boats, screaming and crying on their way up and then igniting into showers of light, and the abrupt increase in activity manages to catch your attention once again. This must be the end, they saved the best for last. Every corner of the horizon flashes and sparks, and you’re mesmerized at how bright it is, how many colors they’ve managed to fit into one single frame.

“It’s beautiful,” comes his voice, and the smile that you break into feels just right for the brilliance of the view above you. Maker, it is, isn’t it? Now you can hear it—he sounds like he’s looking at it too, with color, in all its breathtaking glory, and you feel like you’re flying. Like he picked you up and let you watch up close, like you can feel his armor under your fingers right now as he carries you through the sky.

It swells up inside you, a rising wave similar to the ones you can see in the distance, and you know you probably shouldn’t say it because it’s not in your best interest to say it right now, but you have to say it anyways. It’s an unknowable compulsion, a need to connect and communicate directly with him but for your sake, not presently, not at this exact moment in time.

Luckily, you mute your comm just in time and simply give the words to him from very far away.

“Hurry up,” you say, sending the sentiment into the sky with all your love, and the conflicting hope that he won’t take the advice until a bit later on. “Come and find me.”

***

Day 5–7:37pm:

After the fireworks are over, people start to drift off in separate directions, clearing the traffic and congestion from the streets around you. Someone puts their hand on your shoulder and you blink a few times, spinning around and almost stepping on a bunch of tiny little feet by accident.

Stars, that’s a lot of children. They’re all crowded around Naydee, who pats a few heads and almost buckles under the younglings clinging to her leg.

“Figured you would be long gone by now,” she grins at you from behind her mask, and you’re reminded to pull yours up over your face just from looking at her. “It’s late—we’re going back to the Keja.”

“Oh, shit,” you breathe in surprise, but the noise of the gradually dispersing crowd manages to cover it up. At least from younger, more easily distracted ears, but you think Naydee hears you. Her dark eyes roll good-naturedly, looking happy but exhausted from the long day. You’re going to have to say goodbye now.

“What happened to your family?” She asks after a moment, and you think she’s being careful with the way she says it, likely because family is a difficult topic to navigate in general around some of the children hanging on her and begging for her attention. “Have you been in touch with them? If not, I’m sure you can come back with us. It’ll be late by the time we get there, but at least you’ll be safe.”

You open your mouth to automatically decline her offer, knowing Din is still in the crowded city looking for you and wanting to stay where there’s lots of people.

But then… well, he would expect you to do that, wouldn’t he?

There’s more people here. More danger, but better places to hide. It’s the obvious choice, it’s the one that makes the most logical sense. But you’d also be completely alone and you’re assuming the only reason he hasn’t snatched you up yet—which you know he could’ve done multiple times by now, is likely because you’re with a group of innocent foundlings, moody teenagers, and very stern older women. He probably doesn’t realize you’ve told them about him and the kid, though you were slightly vague on the details.

It’s also a little over three hours to get back, but you’re banking on it being closer to four with how whiney and tired some of the small voices sound, others sounding like they’re an enormous sugar rush contained into a tiny little capsule. Would he have the gall to try and get you right from under their noses? Will he even know you left the city, or will he assume you made the smartest decision possible and simply account for it ahead of time? No, you're overthinking it, just make a decision and stick with it.

“There’s also free food,” Naydee shrugs while you’re still considering, but… well, that settles that. Almost three days of friendship and she already knows exactly how to win you over in the end. Sustenance for your empty tummy, an escort the entire way there, and heavily guarded walls beyond. Din will have to get creative in response—you flaunted your imagination for days, coming up with dozens of evasion tactics to outlast him, but this one just seems… incredibly practical. Exploiting a weakness of his—isolating it, having it be reinforced by precedent, and then taking advantage of it. You bet he’ll catch on, but still, it’ll make it more difficult for him, and you’re grasping at straws to hang on just a little longer.

“I…” Quick, come up with something. You clear your throat. “The city is too crowded, I haven’t been able to find them. I could just… tell them where I’m headed and see if they can find me along the way?”

Naydee smiles and nods. “Sounds perfect.”

Yet, the entire walk back… you keep thinking you’re going to feel Din trailing behind you, waiting to feel the nerves twist in your tummy and your palms to sweat, but you don’t. You keep glancing over your shoulder and then down at your wrist, needing to talk yourself out of addressing him through the comm to let him know exactly what the plan is. You like maintaining a sense of secrecy from the new characters you’ve met on your adventures—Naydee, Karga, Peli—almost everyone you’ve been introduced to, you found a way to find a subtle enjoyment in hiding certain things from them. But with Din, you don’t have any walls. They crumbled nearly a full year ago when he silently pushed a cauterizer in your hand and took his armor off for you, and you’ve felt the inexplicable need to bare yourself to him in return ever since. It would be to your extreme detriment to do it now, but you still have to fight the urge.

Even if you don’t feel him following, you still find yourself acting like he is. Constantly turning back to double check the road behind you, drifting off in the middle of shallow, distant conversations with tiny foundlings who can’t tell the difference, keeping towards the middle of the pack this time to avoid being picked off towards the back. The belltower at the orphanage is loud and will ring for quite a distance, so your timing has to be utterly pristine for this to all work out. You eye your comm the entire way there, trying to stall just the right amount to avoid any realizations or fall into any traps he may be setting for you.

You eventually leave the city walls far behind you, and now you have no clue where he is. You lost him, and maybe that’s why you feel your heart beat insanely fast the whole time. He could be anywhere now. Behind you, adjacent, parallel—you can’t decide where to look, but it keeps you wide awake and focused while the group tiredly travels back to the temple.

***

Day 5–11:32pm:

You can see it in the distance, the brick buildings slowly coming into view. One might think your stress would have worked itself out by now, been brought back to a manageable level after four hours of walking, but you’ve been on red alert for the past hour or so. Any movement or rustle that doesn’t come from the sleepy children or exhausted caretakers, you’re on top of it, snapping your attention to the offending tree or animal and not being able to relax even after affirming it’s just nature, it’s not shiny metal bounding after you in the darkness, ready to take you down.

The infants are all likely snoozing away in the nursery, and the Sister who volunteered to stay behind and look after them comes to greet the group at the gate as you approach. Like always, two Brothers open the iron bars to allow you inside, and you feel the anxiety dig its claws into your tummy. If Din is going to get you, this is the very last moment to do it. These walls are guarded and you’re nervous for him, you’re nervous for yourself—you’re just fucking nervous. Jumpy and worried, not being able to pinpoint him anymore and feeling all the more anxious because of it.

It doesn’t feel right. Nothing feels right about this, but you can’t figure out specifically what’s wrong. This was the exact plan, this was a way for you to just survive these last few hours and yet, it doesn’t feel right that you actually succeeded in doing so. It doesn’t make sense that he’d allow you to return all the way here, especially when he was close enough to touch you earlier. Din has had so much time to snatch you up, so many opportunities to lure you away, confront you—anything to catch you, and he hasn’t done it yet. Why? Either you truly did escape and he has no idea where you are, which doesn’t feel right, or he’s choosing not to get you for whatever reason, which also doesn’t feel right. What’s he waiting for? You can’t have won. It was all too fucking easy, you’re expecting to see him around every single corner because he should be there, he shouldn’t have allowed this to happen.

When someone gently touches your elbow, you’re so on edge that you nearly whip around in surprise.

“Sorry!” Naydee immediately apologizes, taking her hand back to lift her hood and remove the mask covering her face. “Didn’t mean to scare you! I was just going to say that the commissary is still open,” she offers, and you watch the small group of hungry teenagers break off from the group to make their way there. “It’s going to take awhile to get the children ready for bed, so we’ll be in the dormitories if you need to sleep. Otherwise, I’m not sure I’ll see you again.”

You stare at her and blink a few times, trying to readjust your focus. She’s your new friend, she just said this was likely the last time you’ll see each other, but you can’t stop thinking about Din. Imagine he’s hours away in the city right now, still looking for you. You’re trying to evaluate your priorities here, but you truthfully never expected to get this far. Inside the gates, surrounded by brick buildings and silent guards. You know your way around here, you know hiding spots, you know how to outlast—it’s incredibly advantageous for you to be inside these walls. What is he doing?

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you give Naydee a quick hug and she happily accepts it. “I��m sure we’ll meet again at some point.”

She smiles and nods, pulling back and letting a couple grumpy foundlings catch her robes and yank on them impatiently. The loud group eventually disappears into the dorms, and the door shutting behind them cuts off the tired crying and chatty voices determined to stay awake, leaving you in silence that feels slightly unfamiliar after going without it for so long.

Fuck, you just need to breathe. As soon as the dead quiet grips the air around you, you realize you need to relax. You’re way too fucking wound up; you want to bolt at the smallest thing and the sudden silence of being alone multiplies it to the point where you have to remind yourself of its importance. Breathe. Focus. There’s about fifteen minutes before the bells ring, fifteen more minutes and the chase will be all over.

Can you eat? You thought you’d want to, but you think you’re too fucking antsy. You can’t stay here alone, that’s for sure, but you also don’t want to be around all the children right now. The commissary will have a handful of people wandering around, teens snacking and maybe a Brother or two standing guard. It’s the best place to wait the clock out, so you make your way there. The gentle breeze billows around your loose robes, your pantlegs swishing as you walk.

A few minutes later, you’ve got a plate of food in front of you but your mask is still up, and you’re just sitting there. Towards the back of the large room, sitting by yourself at one of the tables and staring down at your communicator. Five minutes. You have five fucking minutes left before he finds you. Can you feel him? Is he closing in?

You sit up a bit straighter, taking a deep breath. Focus on that feeling from earlier. The presence in your chest, the weight that didn’t used to be there months ago—focus on that feeling and branch it outwards. Can you feel him?

Something catches your eye.

Or no… it doesn’t, does it? Nothing is out of place here, nothing is visibly wrong or amiss. The only thing that’s changed from all the times before is how dark it is through the windows, and how there are only a few kids in here grabbing a midnight snack instead of being packed like usual. Nothing else.

But there’s… there’s an acolyte in the far corner, standing guard with his back to the wall. It’s not his presence that gives you pause—you expected him to be here, there’s always been at least one present whenever you’ve sat down to eat. He doesn’t look any different from the rest of the Brothers you’ve passed by this evening or the days before—tall, silent, dark brown robes, hooded and mysterious—so why do you suddenly feel yourself break out into a cold sweat as soon as your eyes land on him?

Bubbling laughter and chatter echoes through the large room from one of the tables near the entrance—seven teenagers stuffing their faces with food and sharing animated conversation with each other now that it’s late and they’re alone—but your stomach twists and your fingers start to tremble as you slowly rise from your seat in the back. You want to keep your head down and be casual but it’s impossible, you desperately need to keep looking at that silent guard in particular and your heart kicks up in your chest—

—and then it wrenches sideways when you’re carefully backing away from the table and the offending acolyte takes a single step forwards.

Run. Everything in you screams for you to run, and it’s rarely done that before, but you can’t. Not yet, you don’t want to draw attention, and the logical part of your mind rages against your gut instinct to haul ass. He’s here—of course he is, the thought screams through your veins as you try to weave quickly in between tables, feeling light on your toes and readying yourself to run as soon as you can. The dark figure seems to find a careful pace behind you, staying just far enough behind and walking in perfect silence, and you have so many fucking questions but you can’t even think a single thing beyond run away, run away. Where’s the kid? How did he get those robes? Did he actually take his helmet off just to get to you in a room where anyone could confront him?

Your feet propel you forward as soon as you make it out of the door, you break out into a sprint—just flat out bolting because you know how fucking fast he is and you need as big a headstart as you can get.

You race down the stairs and through the courtyard, the beautiful surroundings contrasting drastically with the way you’re running for your fucking life through them. It’s not beautiful to you right now; you feel clumsy and physically unable to move fast enough no matter how quick you go, your eyes are wide and every nerve is on fire and you can’t even tell if he’s behind you anymore with how silently he moves, but you just trust that he is and keep barreling forward. Your breath puffs against the clinging fabric of your mask as you keep sprinting, willing your legs to pump faster. Get to the belltower at least, get to where you have the smallest chance of being caught by the people who guard this place.

As soon as you allow yourself to even conceive the possibility, two Brothers in dark hooded robes suddenly turn the corner a little ways in front of you and your reaction time is perfect—you jerk to a halt and take a single step forward as soon as they spot you. Since your momentum already committed you to it, you just have to walk, keep your head down, move directly past them and hope Din disappeared from behind you in time.

Step, step, step—keep going, control your breathing, you’re okay, you’re allowed to be up late tonight and they shouldn’t stop you. Walk right by… Stars, you feel their silent stares as you casually pass, and it just feels so cold and analytical compared to the kind of danger Din is gives off when dressed in the exact same clothing. He’s hard and tangible and an unrelenting force, where they just feel like ghosts that haunt this place. The threat they present is impersonal and detached, but the terror currently chasing after you is so real that he can read your mind.

You wipe the sweat from your brow as soon as you turn the corner, and your feet are already starting to speed up on their own knowing you’re out of their sight. Run, get to the belltower before Din does, you can see it standing tall about a hundred feet away. The stairs leading to the door come closer and closer, but you hear something behind you and it propels you faster. It’s like you can feel him right at your heels even though you haven’t seen him, snapping at your ankles even though your footsteps are the only ones you can hear anymore.

You scramble up the stairs and close the door behind you, spinning around and facing it even as you slowly retreat backwards into the moonlit tower, trying to stay quiet. Breathing through your nose, eyes shifting around the enclosed space, continuing to back up and away from the door. Where is he? There are so many windows that allow you to look outside, but why can’t you spot his movement through them? Wasn’t he right behind you?

Behind you.

There’s no reason or logic at all to it; you just react. Spinning around and throwing a mean punch.

Din jerks back just in time to miss it, twisting and dodging at the very last second to avoid your next few hits—but… things seem to slow down, even if they’re happening so fast. The moonlight cascades through the dozens of windows lining the circular walls and it shines just enough to reveal small glimpses of him. With every aggressive strike from you, you see something else—you see a flash of his chin when you try to uppercut, you aim for his chest and you see a bit of his jaw. When you go for his jaw, he steps sideways and catches your wrist, and you see the bend of his nose catch the light this time.

But then it’s like he finally figures out that you’re actually fighting him, and now he’s coming for you. Trained and ruthless, not weighed down by any armor and lightning quick, launching perfectly aimed attacks that you’re only able to avoid from reaction and muscle memory alone. You block or move whenever he strikes, you attack whenever you see an opening, you sidestep at the same time he does—

Until you land a spin kick directly to the center of his chest and snap your leg to shove him back, your heel smashing into that soft spot right above his stomach with dead precision and brute force. He exhales sharply and takes a few more steps back to steady himself while you pause to catch your breath.

Din abruptly comes back and you fall into it with him again, keeping a sharp rhythm with each other that’s faster, harder, and way more real than any sparring match you’ve ever shared. The hours and days in hyperspace you spent practicing with him are but a fraction of what he’s throwing at you right now, the combinations so rapid and blurred that you just have to trust your knowledge of him and his movement through the dark.

But then, your downfall. Bells begin ringing an earsplittingly familiar melody above you, and it shatters your concentration—you falter just as he grabs you and sweeps your feet out, and though you know how to get out of that, you’re not quick enough on the jump nor counterswing to prevent it. He takes you to the ground, hard, and then your wrists are being pinned together above your head and your mask is being tugged down.

Din’s mouth on yours makes you want to cry.

The whole thing is like coming home. You spent a week surrounded by strangers and having them call you by a name not given to you, fending for yourself, and now here he is. Someone who knows who you really are, someone that wants to care for you. Tears come to your eyes even as they're pressed tightly shut, and Din kisses you like he’s never known anything else. His mouth fits to yours as if the Maker made your lips before ever considering the rest of you, his bare hand clutching your jaw and forcing you to open for him, letting him lick deep inside after going so many days without it. It might feel dominant and overwhelming if it happened to any other person, but through it, you can also taste his desperation and weakness, how soft he is even when he’s squeezing your jaw and squishing your wrists together too tightly.

Rigid steel that bends only for your touch.

He pulls back and your heart throbs at how moonlight continues to bathe just the smallest glimpses of him under the hood—never the full thing, never the whole face, but enough. The quiet light that brushes the arch of his nose, how it bathes the hard line of his jaw so that you can barely see his scruff when he turns his head the right way. His eyes are hidden in near darkness but there’s the faintest glimmer where they should be, and it’s the closest you’ve ever been to looking at him without the helmet. You can see him, you can see shadows of his chin, his neck—dear stars, his fucking neck. You’re pinned and paralyzed under him and the ringing bells, yet you feel like you just might float if he wasn’t holding you so tight to the floor.

“Where’s the baby?” You finally lift your chin and ask, needing to raise your voice over the melody clanging loud throughout the tower.

“Making friends,” Din pants back down at you, and… stars, then you just start giggling. Adrenaline turning into pure joy, imagining the kid wreaking havoc with all the other babies in the nursery right now. It feels more light and airy than anything your body should know.

“What are you so happy about?” He asks, swallowing and then continuing on with the same quick gasps. “You lost, I caught you in time.”

“Did you?” You drop your head to the brick floor and ask, biting your lip as he stares back down at you. Suddenly—

—Bong—

Din holds utterly still over you while you take a quick breath and wait for the next eleven bells…

…but then break into a slow grin up at him when nothing but utter silence follows.

There’s a moment. Just a single moment where the cogs turn rapidly under that shadowy hood, one where the faint reflection of light in his eyes flickers down to the communicator on your wrist that says midnight and back to you, one that solidifies the longer it takes for another bell to ring. It’s not going to.

One o’clock.

You think he puts it together. The one moment he was never able to figure you out—when you tried reprogramming the comms just a few days ago. The one trick up your sleeve that you resigned to throw away and almost forget about because the circumstances for pulling it off were never realistic. Fuck with the electronics and set the clock back just one hour—all you’d need to do is reset his communicator, the timecode is synced together. He told you before that it’s connected to his helmet, but all the buttons still work. Rapid, panicky thinking and a wild surge of bravery in the face of certain downfall is the only reason you were able to pull it off, and you’re perfectly willing to admit you just got lucky… especially when he’s still holding dead still over you.

But then Din moves so suddenly. You can’t account for it because there’s no build-up whatsoever—it’s so fast, you yelp while he grabs your knees and throws them both to one side. You flop over sideways and large hands reach up under the draping length of your tunic to yank your pants down over the curve of your ass, before he’s fitting his palm up between your legs and pushing two thick fingers inside you.

Your head thunks back against brick with how unexpected and merciless it is, but his other hand is grabbing your jaw and twisting, forcing you to look up, stare right into the dark shadow under the loose cowl. The whole thing is too overwhelming—you’re trying to keep quiet but your breathing feels like thunder crashing inside this tall, echoing chamber. He’s touched you so many times, he knows exactly how to do it by now, but it feels like so much more than that. Probably because you can see the way Din’s mouth silently falls open as he feels you, stretching his fingers up and hooking them tight inside. You can tell when he closes his eyes, the smallest glint slowly disappearing into nothingness while the hand around your jaw blindly moves up. It catches your chin and lips, and then two fingers push over the bottom edge of your teeth to slip into your mouth.

Your entire leg twitches and jerks while you lay sideways on the ground and open up for him, your neck twisted at a sharp angle to keep your eyes on him and his fingers in your mouth, giving you something to bite to stop making noise. Din makes room for himself inside you two different ways, and you just choke on his fingers and try to stay quiet, praying he’ll go deeper.

But then you’re not expecting his whole fucking arm to start moving the way it does—oh fuck, what is that? First you just feel jostled and displaced, but then suddenly a wicked, deep, burning pleasure starts to roar through you, radiating outwards from the rapid motion of just two fingers inside you. It’s not in and out, it’s up and down so hard and quick against your g-spot that your eyes cross and your hands go numb.

You think you grab at him, clutch onto his arm or chest and open your mouth to moan at the new and overwhelming sensation, but his hand pushes up against your chin and closes it for you, the bend of his fingers caught hard between your teeth but you don’t think he cares.

“Quiet,” Din hisses the word down at you while his arm continues to work, your toes starting to curl as the feeling overwhelms you. Fuck, what is happening, what is happening? It’s like he’s just shoving unfamiliar sensation at you so forcefully that you can’t even think straight anymore, not even ten seconds in. You can only feel the pleasure, fire blurring hot and shapeless through your entire body as your eyes clamp shut, his fingers isolating that perfect spot and stimulating it directly, relentlessly.

Something dull and white hot presses up tight against all the muscles you have down there and you’re almost afraid of how strong it is. You gasp and choke and he has to take his fingers out of your mouth and just clamp down around your entire jaw, sealing the whole thing shut with his large hand. And then Din’s fingers leave your pussy too—and stars, you should be embarrassed by how desperately it clamps around nothing for as long as it does. He’s not even inside you anymore but your body is on such a delay from the hot, twisting pleasure, and he doesn’t put them back in until your muscles are finished spasming.

Everything comes back full force as soon as he starts moving again. Noise starts to come from your throat, humming in your vocal cords to deal with the arcing, swirling build, and so Din just moves his hand there instead. He finds where it’s vibrating from your neck and he pushes up against it, trapping the sound right at the source. He’s fucking perfect at it for some reason… how many times must he have done this to know how to cut noise out without stopping airflow? You clutch at his wrist and silently mouth his name, feeling his arm work between your legs—faster, faster, harder, pushing you higher, higher—

Din pulls his fingers out again and this time, one of your thighs suddenly feels warm and wet while you spasm and you hear him growl out a ragged, “Fuck yes.” Everything is sparks zapping through you long after his touch is gone, you cry out but it’s all trapped under Din’s expert grip. His fingers soon push back inside you and you dig your nails into his forearm, your sounds muffled and quiet enough to hear his raspy groan.

“Let me see it again,” Din breathes, his arm starting to work up and down once more, and you don’t even know what he’s talking about anymore. What does he want to see? You losing your mind again? Being reduced to an utter mess in front of his shadowy but unobstructed gaze just because you managed to pull one over on him?

Fucking… apparently. It’s what happens, after all. You’ve never seen him like this before; whenever he’s worked up and taking it out on you, there was always something in it for him, too. He’d hammer into you and rock your world until his eventually shattered, and then you’d both lay exhausted afterwards, equally affected and satisfied. This isn’t like that—this is just cruel, targeted retribution on his behalf, coaxing the molten pleasure out of you with his fingers and keeping his other hand locked around your throat. You blink helplessly up at him, your vision starting to blur by the time he leans down to whisper to you.

“I missed you, sweet girl. Did you miss me?” It’s so soft and quiet compared to the strength and relentlessness of his movements. You can’t speak even if you wanted to, but when he finally pulls away to yank his hand out and you feel all your muscles automatically flex outwards and push against the sudden emptiness inside you, his voice groans long and satisfied while your thighs get wet again “Yeah you did,” he breathes, pushing your shaky legs to the brick with his hand and watching you struggle through the aftershocks.

Did you just cum? You don’t even know, that’s how fucked up you are right now. The whole thing felt like an orgasm from the very beginning, just a boiling hot tornado ripping through every single cell in your body, never really having a peak. If you didn’t cum, then why do you feel so weak? You feel heavy, your limbs don’t work properly, and you barely even register Din pulling at the fabric of his own robes until he fits himself up against your entrance.

When you do realize it, though… your body burns with it, wrecked already but wanting him to take what he wants from you.

“Oh, plea—” you gasp but you don’t even have enough time to get the full sentence out. He’s already pushing his hips forward, pressing you tight into the ground and opening you up after what feels like a fucking eternity without him. It’s the hottest, slickest welcome you could give him, you hear it in the whispered curse his lips brush up under your ear, the wet noises your body makes that get louder the longer you hold the moan in your throat and bury your head into his shoulder. He throbs thick and perfect inside your tight, spasming cunt, stretching you and smacking the rough ground near your head with how fucking good it is to be back, finally, finally—

Your hands grab uselessly at his chest while you try to acclimate, try to breathe while you’re blind with sensation. It’s so fitting for him, isn’t it? That your reunion should be just as physically debilitating as it is mentally. Din’s voice scrapes on a groan like he’s dragging it across the brick ground as quiet as he can, catching when you clamp down on him and shuddering when you clamp down harder. That’s just it—you don’t ever loosen, you just keep tightening and tightening around him, threatening to break and cum again.

This feels different from before, though. It’s deep, purposefully so. His hand reaches up to push the fabric of your hood back, lifting himself up over your body and wanting to start as deep as he can. You feel him in a place you’d never be able to reach and that’s just the beginning—that’s before he starts thrusting into you, hitting a dull sensation at the apex of each movement so hard that it becomes sharp. His hips don’t make practically any sound smacking into you because they don’t really smack, they just rock downwards and fuck you into the floor without needing to pull out really at all. You know he’s just trying to keep it as quiet as possible, but what he lacks in speed and agility he makes up in power.

You don’t even realize you’re making too much noise until a palm wraps tight around your mouth and the room gets a little emptier. Din keeps you all to himself on the floor, silencing as much as he’s working you up, smothering as much as he’s freeing you. There’s no easing up, no dragging it out, no gradual build or climb—it’s just there all of a sudden, pleasure and pain pummeling you all at once, engulfing you in flames.

You reach up to grab at the loose fabric of the hood over his face, catching a fistful of it before his hand suddenly snatches your shaky wrist and pins it back to the ground.

Maker, you forgot—oh, you completely forgot about how many people could find you right now if they ever decided to look in the right place. You’re not in hyperspace; your body is rocking against rough brick, you’re probably going to have a lump on the back of your head from how terrible you are at trying to map out heaven while holding still. He’s pinned down what he can with one hand; your fingers are the only things that can move besides how tight you can curl your toes, but you feel your moans turn into words against his palm. They garble indistinctly and you’re not really even sure what you’re saying, but Din decides it’s worth hearing.

“Shh,” he whispers, slowly lifting his hand from your mouth. “Shh, tell me—”

“W-wanna look,” you hear yourself whimper, trying your best to keep quiet but wanting to scream it while he fucks you hard and slow on the ground, “—I wanna see, I wanna look at you—”

“Fuck,” Din gasps, and though his grip tightens on your wrist and you know he can’t do it right this second, the words seem like they shatter something inside him, “Keep—oh fuck, please, k-keep saying…”

“I want to marry you,” you nearly whine for him, feeling his hips kick up rapidly and start hammering in and out, in and out, in and—“I want to see your face, I wanna be yours, I don’t want anyone else to know you the way I-I—”

You think he drops his head into your neck to muffle his own sounds. Though they start out rough and quiet and indiscernible, but they gradually become louder as he repeats himself over and over again, growling and fucking you rough. You only catch it on the peak, when he pulls his mouth away from your skin and gasps them raggedly one last time.

“—ve you—I l-love y—”

He kisses you to stop himself. But it’s not really a kiss, it’s more desperate than that. Though it’s beautiful, it’s beautiful in a different light. It’s not rejoicing at having you back with him once again; it’s a last prayer begging you to stay by his side forever. He loves you. He gives it everything—it feels even more concrete and simple than taking the hood off him and revealing his face would. You told you that you'd know him without ever seeing him, and you did. You picked him out and found him when absolutely nothing was giving him away, and this feels like a manifestation of that. Even if you’re not in a place where he can show you his face, his beautiful brown eyes, something still feels like it changes. He loves you. You gasp into his mouth and his tongue sinks deep into yours, tenacious and brave and unyielding.

When you finally cum, you almost bite him on accident.

Everything surges hot and molten while he pulls back and keeps fucking you through it, and you can’t tell where you’re touching him anymore, just that his skin is blazing hot under your hand and he feels like everything the armor isn’t. He loves you. You’re looking into his eyes right now. You can’t see any of the details, not really, but the moonlight flickers like silent stars moving through dark depths, staring right back at you and giving you an anchor for the euphoria rocketing through you. He loves you. Your nails dig in sharp and slowly drag downwards, scratching hard red lines into whatever thick muscle that is—

The back of his neck, making his hips stutter and when he cums for you, he does bite.

You lift your head just in time to feel his teeth catch your chin instead of your mouth, and his entire body shakes while you keep dragging your nails down the side of his neck and his throat. Din fucking lives for it, he releases you and arches into the pain and owns your marks like he wishes you made them deeper, stretching his neck and lifting his chin into the moonlight and—

Maker. You can see it, with direct light, you can see more of it than ever before. You can see his soft lips and white teeth gritting the sound of your name as quietly as he can, the dark facial hair dusting across the lower half of his face. A fucking gorgeous jawline and throat extended long over you, flexing hard with his cock pulsing inside you. You can just barely see the bottom of his nose from under the brown hood, the dark curls brushing up under his ears.

Stars, you still never see his eyes, the fabric of his hood acts like a blindfold draped over them, but you think you cum again. Even if it’s on accident, it’s mean—Din tries to keep from squishing you and his hand pushes down hard against your lower tummy while he shoves his hips deep one last time, and you cum while staring at half of his face in the moonlight. Completely lovestruck.

How can he be this beautiful when you’ve only seen fractions of him? You have everything but the eyes now, everything but the most mysterious thing about him, the reflection into his deepest self, but you feel like you’re hypnotized by every single feature you do see. His tongue coming out to wet his lips, the vein pulling under his sharp jaw—he’s gorgeous, he’s gorgeous, and your body agrees. It shakes and shudders under him and eventually, Din finishes and you keep looking as his chin slowly lowers, face disappearing into the shadow once more.

Stars. He’s so handsome and no one has ever told him, fucking dreamy and the biggest grump you’ve ever met. Without being able to see him, you already want to reach your hands out and touch him, drag your nails through his scruff and force him to extend outwards into the moonlight again for you. Whenever he does end up showing you his face, you know right fucking now that you’ll never be able to look away. For the rest of your life, you’ll be staring at him, apologizing blankly for your rudeness but not feeling sorry at all.

Din leans down and gives you a slow, gentle kiss, finally relaxing into a slouch and breathing hard with the effort it took to shatter you with pleasure.

“The kid is with the other foundlings,” he whispers against your lips. “You… you’ll have to go get him, I need to grab my armor.”

You squeeze around his cock, pulling at the fabric of his robes and ignoring him for just a second. He fucked you in robes belonging to one of the guards and nobody has mentioned it, you need to say something. “Where did you get this?”

“I found it,” he tells you after a moment, kissing up under your jaw. Oh fucking Maker, he feels so good and perfect inside you, shoulders so broad and crowding you on the floor, and his lips are plush and hot, brushing and fitting your skin like it’s just an extension of his own. “Some guy was wearing it.”

It takes you a second.

“Mando,” you suddenly gasp in quiet horror, pushing at his chest and trying your best to detach his mouth from your throat. It’s so much more difficult than it needs to be, but you eventually succeed. “What did you do to him? Where is he?”

He lifts his neck up just the tiniest bit, turning his face towards yours under the hood and holding still for way too fucking long. He’s too close to see the expression he’s making, but you know the tone of his silence. He’s in trouble and he knows it before you do.

“Ma—”

“They’re in a closet,” he admits at the very same time, completely monotone.

You don’t know which word to emphasize. A fucking closet? They’re? Plural? Instead of stressing any particular word, you decide not to do it at all and it ends up just coming out in the same exact blank tone as him. “They're in a closet.”

“Inside the Temple,” Din continues on when you lay still as a statue underneath him. His head slowly dips down once more, pushing his hips against you just the slightest bit to make you remember the cock still inside you instead. Your eyelashes flutter with it—fuck, focus—“I didn’t know there’d be more than two.” He kisses your neck so gently. “It was an accident.”

You don’t say anything at all, your mouth pinching down at the corners because it should but your heartbeat galloping with how… fucking sexy he is. You shouldn’t encourage this, this horrible behavior just to get close enough to catch you, but your curiosity overtakes you and you ask a question you’ve asked yourself before. “Did they put up a fight?”

“Mm,” he whispers noncommittally, rocking his hips down once more. “You did.” Your nails dig into his chest, making him falter just slightly before slowly kissing your neck again. “Did so good. Fought hard, outsmarted me. Pretty fucking girl.”

And then your eyes pop open as you feel it. His cock suddenly beginning to harden once again inside you, twitching and gradually gaining a thicker shape, and for a moment, you actually fucking consider it. He’s the only one in this galaxy that could not only ruin you on these sacred grounds, but then coax you into doing it more than once—stars, are you actually considering it?

“We can’t,” you automatically tell him, but it’s fucking pitiful. Zero effort, absolutely no umph behind it, leaving it entirely up to him and how much he wants it. Your logic reminds you that the kid is probably wreaking havoc in the nursery and there are tied up guards in the fucking temple that could be discovered any second. You shouldn’t have even let him fuck you here in the first place, but… “Mando, we can’t—”

His mouth opens against the crook of your neck and his tongue brushes velvet hot on your skin, tasting the glistening sweat there and not moving his broad figure a single inch over you besides getting closer, deeper. Your nails dig into his collarbone, aiming for reason one last time. It’s apparent that you’d be better off rephrasing, knowing the challenging streak in him and how much telling him what to do doesn't help.

“It’s not a good idea,” you attempt instead, breathless and trying not to move under his mouth and lazy hips. “Not smart. Bad idea to fuck again.”

Din’s body stops moving, even though he keeps getting harder. His jaw opens and then his teeth scrape softly against your flesh, making you tilt your neck back and gasp.

“Later,” he lifts his head to state aloud, committing it to truth now that it’s been spoken and heard by another person. “Later, I’ll fuck you on the ship, in our bed, when I can get you naked and have your taste in my mouth.”

Tingles rock through your body and you squeeze around his cock just as he pulls it out and tucks it back into his pants. Your lungs quiver when you inhale—it’s shaky, but it reminds you of how long it’s been since you’ve been able to breathe correctly.

“Later,” you finally agree, combing your fingers through your hair and glad you have this hood to cover your freshly fucked dishevelment. He came inside you and you don’t want to be leaking and getting your nice pretty robes all wet and stained, but then of course, without any prompting, Din quickly scoots back on his knees and drops his head down to take care of it for you.

***

Commotion.

After Din helped you clean up the way he sometimes likes and then disappeared to change back into his armor, you put your mask and hood back on and tried to look as casual as possible walking to the nursery. Your knees wobbled slightly and you couldn’t stop smiling under the mask the entire walk there, but when you arrived, you just saw a dim room with sleeping infants—not what you were expecting. Soon, however, you hear it: down the hall, distant and coming from the dormitories, you hear a loud commotion.

Fuck, you’re nearly wincing with every step you take now, and not because you’re sore. Well, you… are, a little bit, but in a great way. No, you’re just dreading the ridiculous shinanigans you already know are well underway, wondering if Din actually dropped the kid off in the dorms from the beginning or if he somehow migrated his way there to cause trouble.

When you walk inside, the first thing you see is a handful of crying and shouting toddlers, and while you can’t immediately spot your favorite floppy-eared monster, you don’t have to see him to know he’s probably standing tiny directly in the middle of this tense showdown. Automatically, you’re taking a few steps forward to rescue him, but then you stop as soon as you see what the other babies are so mad about. A large piece of chocolate leftover from the festival levitating just beyond their pitiful little reaches.

Hm. Who could possibly be responsible for using demon powers to steal snacks and hold them hostage from a sizeable group of hostile children. A mystery that may never be solved.

It makes you take a second. The sheer… the… stars, you can’t even think straight—how fucking typical it is just hits you right in the chest, sends your heart into orbit. Of course. Of course this is what he’s gotten himself into without immediate supervision, of course this is the shipwreck you’d walk into, and you’re holding back a chuckle before making a single move to intervene. In the midst of everything, you can hear adults approaching distantly from behind you.

“—don’t know where it came from, I was helping the younglings into bed when I heard the ruckus and I—”

The voices gradually grow louder, and you snatch the floating piece of candy out of thin air and whip around right before Sister Drya and Naydee walk in. Their hushed, concerned conversation is cut to an abrupt end, and you clear your throat as they take you in, standing in front of chaos central continuing to go off behind you. Do you… look as freshly disheveled as you are? You’re not supposed to be here, you know, but hopefully the only strange thing is your presence itself and not anything concerning your appearance.

“Nerida,” the older lady suddenly announces, the name alone holding so much expectation, and the younglings missing their candy have now turned their ire towards you and the crinkly food wrapper hidden in your fist. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Ah, yeah,” you stand up a little straighter, letting the chocolate casually fall out of your grip behind you, and a stampede of feet suddenly kick up to recover it. It’s fine, nobody will know, it’s fine. “It’s just…” Your head tips behind you to the cause of the uproar, feeling a bit sheepish yet so incredibly fond. “My… kid.”

Sister Drya stares at you for a few seconds, before tipping sideways and staring at the culprit. “That is your child?”

You turn around just in time to see him, now abandoned by the angry mob of children, finally notice you. All of a sudden, his pitch black eyes light up something bright and sunshiney, and you just start beaming in return. What an adorable little creature, apple of your eye and pain of your ass.

“Yep,” you sigh, dropping into a squat and watching him barrel towards you, catching him right before he can trip over his brown potato sack and scooping him up into your arms. “Hiya, bug,” you murmur with a grin, lifting back up and plopping him in his favorite spot in the universe—your left hip. “You making friends?”

He giggles and it’s like sparkles and bubbles fill the room instead, wrapping tiny arms around the largest surface area he can get and clinging. He laughs with a tiny open mouth, bless him, clearly not understanding the sarcasm, and suddenly your eyes feel just the slightest bit wet. No, you’re not crying, don’t be fucking ridiculous, but you missed him like hell and he’s just the cutest fucking thing—why do you feel like crying?

“Sorry about that,” you apologize to the two women while slowly turning around, brushing your thumb over one of his cheeks and smiling as it squishes. “He’s… uh. Not great at sharing. We’ll work on it.”

Takes after his dad, you purposefully leave out, just a different kind of sharing. Din hasn’t shown you his full face yet and the kid performs magic tricks to taunt a roomful of children a fraction of his age for a single piece of chocolate, completely different kind of sharing.

Sister Drya says something in response, but when you look up to address her, all you see is Din standing silently behind her and Naydee, slowly dropping his hand from his helmet to his side. They don’t seem to notice he’s there and you automatically try your best to pay attention to the Sister speaking to you, but your eyes get caught on the silver reflecting in the dim light beyond. Fuck, he’s a presence. An immediate distraction, taking all your focus with a single glimpse. Seeing him fully armored again, staring at you from the silent shadows behind everything… you melt a little bit, knowing that you’ve seen more of what’s underneath than anyone. Your shoulders settle and your entire body burns warm, wobbly like the air around a fire, and one of the kid’s hands leaves you to reach out towards his dad.

You watch the metallic helmet tilt sideways after a moment, saying everything without saying anything. Come on, make up an excuse, let’s get out of here.

Looking at him in the quiet shadows, you’re reminded once again about how much you love him, how much softness you have inside you for a man so hard, so guarded. And, for the first time, a voice in your head finishes a poem you didn’t realize you were writing, adding its own verse and bringing everything back around to the beginning. He loves you, too. How much he lets his guard down for you, the way he’s revealed more of his face to you than not. You love each other. You’re family.

So, all at once, you decide to mess with him, because that’s what family does best.

“Don’t be shy, come say hello,” you suddenly urge his silent figure, taking a step forward and speaking directly to him. “Sister Drya, Naydee, I’d like to introduce you to my—”

It’s remarkable, you see it happen in front of you. Like he has powers of his own, Din just literally fucking disappears. Like magic, he’s nowhere to be found within a blink of an eye. You know he’s capable of it; he’s done it plenty of times during the chase just to fuck with your head, but you’re staring straight at him when it happens this time and it might just be the funniest fucking thing you’ve ever seen him do.

Sister Drya and Naydee both turn around to an empty hallway bathed in shadows and you laugh. A deep, shameless, loud belly laugh. Where the fuck did he go so quick? You were staring straight at him and you have no fucking clue. He’s just out, and you’re left alone with his child and the unspoken understanding that he’ll just catch up with you later.

You’re giggling even as you shake your head and give the women your genuine thanks for keeping you and feeding you these past few days, grabbing your backpack with all your belongings and eventually using three green fingers to wave goodbye to them. The very first thing Din says when he seamlessly joins you outside the Keja later is, “That wasn’t funny,” which just makes you laugh harder.

***

About a half hour has passed, and you’re walking along a dirt road, cradling a very happy baby in your arms and giving the grown man next to you an incredibly hard time.

“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, your back twinging slightly at the way you’re leaning about as sideways as you can get without falling over. You think you’re basically just the hypotenuse between the ground and Din, who easily supports almost your entire weight with your backpack slung around his far shoulder and readily allows you to rest against him.

“They’re fine,” he grumbles in response, squeezing you tight to his side. You just have to focus on moving your feet; it’s like he’s practically carrying your upper-half anyways. “I gave them the night off.”

“You stuffed them in a closet,” you hiss, feeling his shoulder shrug under your cheek.

“I gave them the robe back,” he says, not really defending himself and more just throwing it out there to see if it helps any. “I’m sure someone’s found them by now, they’re fine.”

Your eyes suddenly go wide, absolutely mortified at the thought. “Wait. What do you mean you gave the robe back?”

He shrugs once more, apparently not seeing the problem yet. “I borrowed it, so I gave it back after I put my armor back on.”

If you could plant your feet on the dirt road and screech to a halt, you would, but all your weight is already resting on him and you’re working solely off his forward movement. You just hope your tone holds the same amount of shocked disapproval your body language would’ve conveyed if you weren’t so completely attached to his hip like a parasite he adores.

“You fucked me wearing it, though.” Your voice is strangely flat, so fucking confused and horrified by the mental image of him just tossing the soiled garments haphazardly somewhere in the temple behind you, or even worse, leaving them somewhere respectful, and Din soon stops in the middle of the deserted road.

“Oh,” is all he says, emotionless and blank through the modulator. Did he not even consider this?

“I had to promise them I was a virgin just to sleep there, you know,” you admit, and you can tell that’s brand new information to him with how still he goes as you continue to lean against him. You’re getting the feeling that he probably knows a lot more about your experiences on this moon than you think he does, but can tell that this is brand new information to him. “And you locked three of their holy men in a closet, chased me across the temple grounds, fucked me in one of their robes, and then. You gave it. Back.”

Din stays perfectly silent for quite some time. You can never go back to that place, you know this for a fact. You’re banned forever now, it’s what you deserve.

Never one to be outdone but not actually having anything to say for himself, Din suddenly decides to just scoop you into his arms and boost up into the sky without a single word like an actual fucking maniac.

You squeal and damn near drop the baby because of it, but he cinches you tight to his chest and refuses to loosen with your struggle. Eventually, after you realize he’s completely locked you in and you won’t fall to your death with this poor innocent child in your arms, you glance over the shiny pauldron on his shoulder and watch the kid’s crib disappear by the abandoned road as Din takes you higher and higher.

The crib—he forgot the crib—

“D-Din,” you stammer out through the whistling air, stiff as a board. Stars, you have such a different sense of adventure than him; an explorer and a daredevil, one who gets a thrill from discovering the existence of the edge of a cliff and one who’ll take a running dive off of it without thinking twice. He’s hit with blaster fire some days, he faces down death completely fearless like it owes him one every single time, and you’re stiff as a fucking board while he carries you through the sky. It’s stunning up here, it’s exciting and wonderful, but you’re so scared that you can barely even look. He’s giving you the most fantastical view, everything your budding adventurous streak could ever ask for, and your terror is crushing. It would be different if you could hold on, but you’re responsible for not letting the baby slip through your arms and you just have to trust that he won’t let you slip through his.

You raise your voice. “Din?!”

“I won’t drop you,” he automatically reassures, and well you sure as fuck hope not, but there’s something else.

“What about the crib?” You call out over the wind whipping, tucking the baby tight to your chest and settling your hands over his ears to avoid them flapping and whacking you repeatedly in the chin.

“We’ll come back for it,” he responds, just as easily. Maker, you wish decision-making came that easy to you, that commitment and choice should be so simple as to just fly away from things on the ground and promise out loud to come back for them. You know he will, but still, his spontaneity shocks you after spending the past week thinking every decision through meticulously, and you’re taken aback by the casualness of it all while soaring through the sky, committing such spectacular feats without a single thought beyond it.

Soon—incredibly soon, which honestly kind of blows your mind—you spot Nariss glowing in the distance and then you’re flying overtop of the city, slowly dropping altitude in the middle of a quiet little side street.

Din carefully allows your feet to settle on the ground before letting go, but you still stumble a bit stupidly after flying so high without any sort of safety measure besides him, prioritizing the steadiness of the baby in your arms instead of your feet underneath you. His gloves catch at your clumsy body and pull you along with him without another word, leading you out of the quiet alley and into the middle of a beautiful, luminescent street.

What’s he doing? He seems slightly hurried, and you’re clueless but you go with it, clamoring along behind him to wherever he’s leading you.

Though, you suddenly remember one of the very last things you told him last night right before he steps up in front of a vendor.

“Caf,” Din grunts, sliding a few credits towards the man standing behind the counter. “The… biggest one you have.”

Okay, well. You could just about fucking cry.

“Y’sure?” The vendor asks skeptically, jerking his head at the large thermos behind him. He’s balding, wearing a white outfit with his eyes scrunched up and forehead sweaty, likely working all day. “It ain’t fresh. Closin’ up soon, was just about to trash it and go home.”

The helmet turns to gauge your response to the news, the sharp angles and contours looking so sleek and dangerous as they reflect the colorful lamplights, but just filling you with comfort beyond anything in the entire galaxy. He’ll take that armor off for you tonight and you’ll sleep next to him. He’ll call you by your given name, or the fond name he’s given you, and you’ll cuddle your baby on a metal floor in hyperspace with him, and all will be well. Even if he needs to leave again soon—even if you don’t get to go with him, you’ll always have these small eternities with each other, and that’s more enough for you now.

You’re completely zoned out while staring at him, and Din turns back to the vendor before you can even remember the conflict he was attempting to defer to you.

“Yeah, just empty the whole thing in there for her,” he mutters, and you want to marry him. It’s been a long week, and in your haze and delight of being with him in this gorgeous setting, your brain turns to cavewoman mush. Big man, makes me happy. Strong man, loves me, knows me. Provider, makes me feel good, protector, loves me.

Din hands you the large cup of steaming caffeine, clueless to your grunted inner monologue but knowing better than to reach out and grab the kid from your other arm. You’re just fine like this, hands full, the little frog snuggled up against your side and blinking up at your face instead of any of the shiny or glowing things around you. When you look down at him, you can see the world through his eyes—quite literally, they’re reflective and gigantic—and his father’s hand quickly finds its preferred spot on your lower back.

“Try to drink it quick,” Din advises you gruffly, pulling you snug into his side and sloshing the big cupful of piping hot liquid in your hand.

“It’s a thousand degrees,” you protest, trying to balance your three favorite things in the universe all begging for your direct attention at once. “It has to cool down.”

He gives a dismissive hm in response, and you frown even as your heart soars with how tightly he’s gripping you, how little leeway you have to even move without him. Part of you is so thrilled at being reunited with him that you consider snarking something back at him, excitement making you brave. He could probably chug boiling hot liquid in thirty seconds and doesn’t see the point in letting it sit any longer, and you could make some stupid joke about filtering it through his helmet or having a built in bendy straw but you decide to keep it to yourself.

So then you just stand there together, under stringed lights and flowers everywhere, and he waits. Holding you glued to his side, completely silent and clearly just waiting for your caf to stop steaming so threateningly in your hand so you can drink it. For some reason, the fact that he’s wanted by the New Republic doesn’t really register at this second—you’re not looking for cops, though he may be. You’re just lost in this beautiful, fancy city that’s on the edge of finally quieting down after a long day, and you’d like to see more of it with him next to you.

“Well, do you wanna just…” You ask, tilting your head around at all the vendors. “Shop around for a bit?”

“Shop… around,” Din repeats slowly, sounding the words out like they’re not common Basic. Admittedly, they do sit a bit awkward in his voice when put together like that, describing a phenomena he’s likely never even considered a thing before, but it’s so fucking pretty here and you’d like to show him something this time instead of the other way around.

“Yeah, like,” you shrug a shoulder, tipping your head in a random direction. Anywhere, you’ll go literally anywhere with him, the three of you can go explore. “Just wander around, and look at all the pretty things.”

From where you’re standing right now, you can already see glittering crystals and jewels being sold at the tent across the street, there’s a booth dedicated entirely to floral arrangements and crowns next to it, you can hear a distant quartet playing melodically in the distance and a couple is being painted by an artist on the corner. Bars are in full swing at this point, as if they weren’t all day, and even though the merchandise is all different, the multicolored tents look slightly similar when they’re underlit with multicolored lights. It’s less slightly lively than it was in the daytime, but also… more beautiful, in a sense. Muted, softer, more romantic.

“I don’t have any more credits,” Din admits casually, finally turning to look around at everything. You get the feeling that he’s just now seeing it, even after spending the entire day here. “That stale caf was the last of it.”

Money well fucking spent, you can assure him of that.

“It’s okay,” you tell him automatically, gently bumping your hip into his. “We don’t need credits, we can just look.”

So that’s what you do. Even though it’s completely not his fucking style, for the next hour or so, you just walk around downtown with him and sip your caf, looking at anything and everything new and experiencing it with him. At first, you think he’s just entertaining you, following you while you discover new streets and attractions, but then he points out different things and you know he's looking, too. There are large animals harnessed up and pulling carts for people to ride, there's an enormous spinning wheel set up in the distance, its colorful lights flickering out as soon as you ask what the fuck that is and why anyone would ever get inside one.

You eventually end up finishing your caf around the time he’s leading you back through a quiet, abandoned alleyway, and you hand him the empty cup to throw away in one of the trash cans on the corner. The conversation has faded to a comfortable quiet and you don’t really need to ask—you go willingly, not requiring anything beyond his hands on you and the baby dozing in your arms.

“Come on, sweet girl,” he murmurs, gently sweeping you up into his. You sigh, glad he’s giving you a moment to prepare yourself this time, holding the sleeping kid securely to your chest and resting your head on his shoulder. “Let’s go home.”

After you’re comfortable, Din rockets up from the ground and climbs high up into the canvas sky. He disappears with you and the baby into the pastel clouds above, making it back to the Razor Crest in probably about an hour, maybe less. You and the baby do nothing more than climb into the comfy floor blankets while Din starts up the engines, and you think you’re dozing off together by the time he makes the pit stop to collect the crib and the jump into hyperspace.

You think he might shower? You’re not sure—you just know he moves up behind you in bed at one point without any armor, burying his face in your hair while you cuddle the sleepy kid to your chest. It’s dark in the hull, Din’s palms are bare and warm as they slide around the front of your body and he breathes you in, and there isn’t a single place that can touch you here, not a single place you’d rather be.

Home.

***

@followwhereshegoes Thank you for the stunning artwork! 💕To anyone interested in possibly doing an art collab in the future, please message me!!

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #smut #reader insert #fanfic #star wars #rough day #no-droids

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waltnut · 4 years ago

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Hey!! Do you have any more lore ideas of the demon bros in their level 3/4 states? Your last post was really interesting!! :)

I do have some that’s kinda dark? Maybe even kind of NSFW-ish? I’m not sure how you’d categorize it but here it is anyway.

I’ve had this idea of when the “heat season” comes around and what is needed to be done to protect MC. This is in no way what I think happens EVERY TIME heat season comes around just an idea that I had in my head for a concept. I’ve read many wonderful Headcanons for the heat seasons for the brothers and they are all way more thought out than this lol.

The idea is that for MC’s protection, it has been tasked to keep the brothers locked up in their room or a specific location until the heat has passed. The scenario is that this is the first time MC has been there for it and Barbatos is explaining to them and showing them what is needed to be done. There are seals in every room to keep them from breaking out, for example. The seals are made for that specific demon and do not affect MC or other demons. Most of them are in Level 4 during this time but will phase into Level 3 to try to manipulate MC into letting their guard down. Each demon is given something to keep the desire at bay. If they stop receiving these things they will go into a rage.

Assume they are in Level 4 unless stated. This is specifically the brothers...Read more below.

Lucifer - Locked in his room

Mc is not allowed even on the same floor as Lucifer during this time. It is said his power and influence can affect a large radius and should you get too close, you will feel unconsciously drawn to him or where he is.

There is a seal on his door to keep him in.

You will hear nothing behind his door, it is as if no one is home.

He stalks around in his room in Level 4, with all his lights off. Ashamed of himself and his lack of control.

If he knows MC is close, or if he can no longer resist, he is able to project illusions of this form throughout the house to Lure MC or scare MC into heading closer to him. You would see these out of the corner of your eye, or red eyes in the shadows of a silhouette of a giant goat man.

Should MC enter his room, the seal does not react to humans and opening the door does not break the seal, MC will be stuck in here until it’s over. Have fun dealing with a scary goat demon in the dark.

Music is needed to keep him calm. If no music is played he will use his illusions more to terrorize others on the outside and become violent if approaching his physical form.

Mammon - Locked away in his room, in a secret cellar type room that is accessible only through his room. It’ll

To get to him, there is a door in the back of his room, that only appears for this season, magic or something. It leads down a spiral staircase where the walls are stone and you come to a large stone room that is lit by conches and it’s filled with gold and treasure and the like. It’s a dragon’s den. And it’s separated by a wall of decorative bars keeping MC on one side and the dragon on the other.

The seal is on the bars and touching the bars would repel him. But MC can touch them and stick a hand through.

He lays on his treasure and gold objects which will stick to his leathery parts on his wings and the underside of his tail and belly.

Nests of treasures, tapestry and fancy rugs are also used as paddings for his nests. There are items from ancient times, which you could only assume he’s had for centuries and his hoard has only grown since then.

If MC enters this chamber he will transform to level 3 and offer his treasures to them. He will also pout and guilt to keep MC there with him.

Treasure is given to him every hour to keep him happy. He transforms back into level 4 in a fit and will destroy his piles of treasures out of anger and upset if they choose to leave him.

If MC chooses to stay, he will dress them in his treasures and make nests for them.

Leviathan - Sealed in his large aquarium tank. Did you think it was built for the fishes?

The only light source comes from the fish tank and TVs. You can see a giant dark mass inside the tank wrapping around everything inside. It has pulsating glowing orange orbs on its form.

There are Tv’s set up in front of the glass. A lot of them. All of them are anime. There are also a lot of plushies floating in the water. To keep him company, Barbatos would say. These objects keep him calm.

If MC approaches he will turn into Level 3 and press himself against the glass with the most sad eyes. He will use words to manipulate MC into feeling guilty for him being alone and to stay there with him and watch all the shows.

If you stay too long in this room you will hear an eerie whale type song in the back of your mind. It seems to make you dizzy and makes you want to stay with him. Maybe you just might jump in the water. Who needs to breathe anyway? He probably has a solution for that.

If MC chooses to leave he will turn back into Level 4 sea monster and wail the saddest deep sea song and slam his huge body against the glass. Hopefully it stays in tact.

Satan - Locked in his room.

A green glowing wall seal separates the door area from the rest of his room. It has a shimmering flame affect but you can see through it.

His room is trashed. Books ripped to shreds, book cases fallen over, small flecks of green flame and ash are scattered on the piles.

He remains in Level 4 even if MC is in the room. And he is not nice. He is mean. He will scream and yell and swear profanities at them, and especially Barbatos since Barbatos will not let Mc go alone. He will say down right terrible things out of anger and frustration.

If MC expresses any type of upset, it’s possible Satan might notice. If he does, he will lower his voice and approach. He will apologize and begin to try to convince Mc to stay with him and read all the books.

If he is refused he will slam on the sealed wall furiously and monstrous screaming continues. His flames in his body are strong and bright.

Books are given to him every half hour as well as audiobooks of plays from every language to keep him calm.

Asmodeus - Sealed in his room, but an altered version of reality.

His room is separated by a clear glass wall with an invisible seal. On the other side there are mirrors everywhere. It’s like a fun house with how they are not in any uniform pattern. Some are cracked and broken.

There is pillows and blankets and a giant bed where there isn’t mirrors.

The mirrors are used to keep his morale low, showing his reflection in his level 4 state causes a depression to keep him from wanting to pursue others, as he is the avatar of Lust and is the most insatiable during this season.

If MC is in the room, he will actually scream and refuse for them to see him. If MC can convince for Asmodeus to show himself, he will come close to the glass barrier and black tear lines would be streaming down his face.

He will show himself in Level 3 to them to convince MC to stay and keep him company. Something about wanting to see them from every angle with all these mirrors?

If refused he will start to break the mirrors around him. The magically repair themselves eventually.

Other demons like succubi/incubi are sent to him to keep his appetite lower. But he will always prefer MC over them.

Beelzebub - Locked in a giant meat freezer storage near the kitchen.

It’s very cold in here, and there are animal carcasses hanging from meat hooks everywhere. Even things you never seen before. It’s a large cold room with tile.

Bars separate you from the monster in the middle of the room. He sits on a pile of meat and flesh, sounds of tearing can be heard. But also the raffling of chains. The bars are not enough to hold him. There are seals on the bars and metal cuffs attached to his wrists and ankles.

Steam can be seen coming off the monster form Beelzebub.

Once MC enters, he will come launch himself towards them but the chains catch him and hold him away. Barbatos will allow MC to throw him some meat but to use a rod to stick it through, like some zoo keeper feeding a lion.

It was said they didn’t start using the chains until one time he broke out and went on a feeding spree. I won’t get into details about that.

He speaks in very few words. “Closer.” Or “Stay.” are usually what he’ll snort at MC. He stares at them, licking his lips. You don’t know if it’s lust or hunger or both.

He doesn’t put up much a fuss if MC leaves, as the food is enough to occupy him.

Food fed to him by the hundreds is needed to keep him from raging.

Belphegor - Locked back up in the attic.

There is a wall of black smoke/fog that hides the rest of the room. It has light flecks off white in them, like stars.

Red eyes stare at you from inside the fog. They disappear and reappear somewhere else.

Barbatos tells you to not touch the smoke. Do not. Ever. Touch the smoke.

Level 3 arms of Belphie can reach out from the smoke to grab you.

His voice is soft and sweet but his words are not. He tells you he is always with you when you sleep. He can see your dreams. He is in them. It’s the way he says these things that are unsettling.

He can disperse the fog enough to show himself to you. He can change the fog to look like space and galaxies to entice MC to want to stay and experience it.

He will guilt trip MC, saying they’re the reason he’s here and they owe him. They need to make it up to him. He can forgive them if they stay.

If he is refused, a wave of tiredness will wash over MC. Barbatos must always accompany them and he is able to take them away before anything happens.

Incense smoke is needed to keep him calm and sedated.

Now you may be thinking...What about Barbatos?? Isn’t he affected by the season?? To that he replies...

“Oh yes, but my constitution is much stronger than the rest.”

Then perhaps you may be wondering about Lord Diavolo. To which he replies...

“It’s best you don’t set foot in the castle. Better yet, just stay in here in the house, where it’s much safer.”

#text post #monster boyfriend #obey me headcanons #long post #obey me

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atomicfilm · 3 years ago

Text

INTJ pairings

I'll make this into a fun short "put you in my pocket and take you `to my mom's Thanksgiving party" version too.

I'm not an INTJ, but I do converse with them (and by them, I mean maybe 3 total and 1 regularly) and I've been asked to talk about my thoughts on this, so for tonight only, I'm giving myself a really cool sash that says I'm an authority on the subject. I also think as an INTP I run into somewhat similar issues with certain types.

* means I like this pairing.

Typically, the INTJ's golden pair is the ENFP. I think that works for some people, but is probably a kind of short-lasting passionate fling rather than the ideal pairing. ENFPs are great people, they're lots of fun to be around, they care a great deal. They bring out the INTJ's soft side, which they may hate but they secretly quite admire. But ultimately, ENFPs can be flaky. They see something new and exciting and they move on. Novelty is the greatest motivator in a lot of ENFPs. New friends, new places, new things to do. And while the INTJ may deeply admire that and may find it quite exciting, it's not going to last forever. Eventually, the INTJ will become tired of playing games and want to settle into their ideal lifestyle pursuing their carefully strategized goals and the ENFP will become bored. The INTJ I speak to and I have the same issue, which is that ENFPs by nature are manipulative. It can be used for the good of inspiring people and bringing them together, but it can also become quite selfish and unstable. This leads to the ENFP saying things like "You try to apply logic to everything" or "you don't really respect me" or something like that when in reality, if someone loves an INTJ they'll love that they apply logic to everything and they'll love their snarky edges.

INFPs. I have not heard a lot of feedback about them as I think INTJs tend to be drawn more to extraverts. But as someone who spends quite a lot of time with INFPs, I would imagine that a lot of INTJs who can't make it work with ENFPs can also not make it work with INFPs. Once again, INFPs are great at engaging our minds but they are terrible at accepting that we live by rationality. INTJs use Fi a little bit, so to some extent they'll have similar engagements with their emotional side, but INFPs live by thinking "what can I do to nurture myself" and INTJs live more by "how can I best mold the world to fit my vision of efficiency". You'll see the commonality of Fi at the worst point possible when the INTJ is breaking down. INFPs kind of never stop using Fi and as someone who is thinking-dominant, that is almost impossible for communication. Ultimately, they'll eventually hit a point where their love languages and ways of interactions may be so disparate that they feel neglected.

ENTPs **. This is a golden pair that I can kind of get behind. The INxJs I know are obsessed with ENTPs and tend to think they're quite attractive. They're not only gregarious (when they're not arguing) but they're also quite intellectually stimulating and since they have opposite functions from the INTJ, there is still quite a bit of difference to make it fun. There shouldn't be too many emotional issues, aside from the fact that both these types tend to bottle up their emotions and resent vulnerabilities. The ENTP will probably be the more caring of the two in a conventional sense, but I would think both would have similar love languages of caring both through action and thought. ENTPs also tend to not be quite as flaky as a lot of xNxPs are, but, I would rate both of these types as highly likely to ghost. My best advice is that if you want to be around ENTPs, pick one who can be honest about their real values and whose values align with yours. If they make a lot of bigoted jokes, take that at face value, no matter how "ironic" it is. ENTPs can be a little fake in the sense that they will blend in just enough and hide behind so-called irony to be friends with a lot of different people.

INTPs. I don't really see it. I think INTPs are lovely as an INTP who likes other INTPs. Likewise, I enjoy a good conversation and friendship with an INTJ. But I find it not only difficult to tolerate relationships but also being told what to do. I make every decision in a relationship as a compromise and I think that would eventually quite interfere with the INTJ's ambitions because I wouldn't back down on mine...at least, not without resentment. So perhaps an INTJ and INTP with similar life goals could work out romantically, but personally, I view them as platonic and the one time I liked an INTJ it ended beyond poorly. I don't bring out their softness and they don't bring out mine. We're more like buddies who complain about other people when we do the entire group project by ourselves. Of course, romantic preference is a preference.

ENTJs. When has it ever worked out for someone to date their sister-type? Name one time! If someone names one time I'll update this. I think an ENTJ and an INTJ would be quite an argumentative couple even if they were on the same side about everything. Then again, INTJs do admire extraversion and it is always nice to be around people you don't have to explain yourself to every sentence.

INFJs ****. Oh, I like this pairing. I have not heard much about it, but I think it would be really cute. INTJs are complete badasses. They're very "I'm going to take over the world and you're just going to have to deal with it. And if you say no I will secretly cry". INFJs are very "I'm going to do everything in my power to heal everyone and the world and I am probably crying because I saw a baby bunny". INFJs are The Best! They have the softness of ENFPs but they're logical and they use Ni like INTJs but have Fe, which means they are thinking about harmony 24/7 and not that Fi-version of harmony. That genuine "I will make sure everyone is cared for at no social benefit to me" kind of harmony. They do socialize with a lot of people, but INTJs sometimes like to be social and party, they just aren't typically regarded that way. Do Fe and Fi mix that well? Maybe not. But as an Fe user who is quite fond of INFJs, I think they could potentially be a very cute power couple with the INTJ and there would be fewer issues with communication than other types as Ni-doms (but this also might be boring at the same time).

ENFJs. Similar to INFJs. They might work together a little less simply because of the change in function positions.

ESFPs *. Do I know for sure that this is a good pairing? No! But gosh, do I like it. INTJs become ESFP-like when they're sad. So, you know, maybe the ESFP will draw out the worst version of the INTJ and that could really suck. But this is the perfect little theatre kid dates total nerd trope and I like that. ESFPs have the social circle that the INTJ desires and the INTJ has the "got their shit together" vibes that ESFPs, despite being quite talented and successful, may lack. They both have skills one another can benefit strongly from, but it may come at the cost of a lot of arguments. Not sure. But I think this is actually my personal favorite since they have near-opposite strengths but a common reason to respect one another.

ISFPs: Pft. Idk. This is not the same as ESFPs. ISFPs are lovely but they sort of fill the same niche that INFPs do. Perfect for an INTP like me, but I don't think INTJs are looking for the quiet, artsy, weirdo so much because they already often fill that niche to some extent, even if it's more technical. I've noticed that INxJs really want to be around people who are the life of the party and very socially dominant (and ISFPs can fulfill that role, but there are other types who win via extraversion). The ISFP will likewise appreciate a little practicality, but I've noticed they're more likely to gravitate towards other xxFPs. Probably a better friendship and as a relationship would take more effort.

ESTPs: I think this one comes with its own difficulties and will work less than ENTP/ESFP pairings. This is because while they can have the same charisma that ENTP and ESFPs have, they can also have that same fakeness as a defense mechanism. Both will value action but the ESTP will probably drain out the INTJ more than ENTPs will (who are more ambiverts) and more than ESFPs too. With ESFPs, there's a good amount of the right kind of opposites. INTJs are action-driven, but they're strategic and take a while. ESFPs are action-driven, but they're more spontaneous. And ultimately, that leads to a lot of arguments about how to get things done. Whereas, the ESFP and ENTP might give the INTJ complete room to "manage", the ESTP seems less likely to do so.

ISTPs: This would be so stale. INTJs tend to show big emotions (to their own despise) when they're upset and ISTPs love to ghost at any sign of emotion. They would dip so fast. Top-tier friendship on an intellectual level but never particularly deep and unlikely, albeit not impossible to evolve into a relationship. Same issues as with INTPs, there's going to be a lot of admiration and probably not a lot of emotional attachment. I have witnessed an INTJ have a crush on an ISTP but that ISTP had a crush on me so that tells you how that went. Messy business.

ESTJ: Yeah, I guess. I don't like ESTJs as a general concept but I suppose INTJs aren't necessarily as opposed to capitalism and tradition. Sounds dry. Next.

ISTJ *: This is probably a really solid pairing for the INTJ. Very marriage material, have the same job, raise cool kids. But I think that sounds boring. So if you want the "perfect life", this is probably a good type for you but I couldn't do that. You would probably only have minor arguments and the INTJ would have to learn to trust that ISTJs are incredibly good at reading situations while the ISTJ would have to learn to love that the INTJ is more fantasy-oriented than they are. Odd, right? Ultimately, you have two people who can be very commitment-oriented, who care for people the same way, who want to fix society, who analyze everything. You just have two generally different ways of doing that, where the ISTJ is probably actually better at being in society and the INTJ wants to change it in more drastic ways (although, for moral reasons they both want to change it).

ISFJ: I don't imagine it working particularly well. I honestly can barely imagine it at all. An ISFJ is my best friend and he is THE MOST gentle buddy. You cannot make fun of him even playfully and keep the friendship. Probably a deal-breaker for a lot of INTJs as they tend to love a good tease. My ISFJ has dated an INTJ before and while they’re still friends, it was a bad experience to witness all around. INTJs are very competitive and ISFJs are very open with their affection so that ran into issues but also, the ISFJ is not as likely to stand up for itself in a way that INTJs easily respect, which is to say, when they do it it will be something like “hey, you hurt my feelings” and if you’re the kind of person to respond “then you’re too sensitive” you’ve got a whole ass toxic relationship on your hands.

ESFJ: I think this could work a little better than the ISFJ pairing and a little worse than with the ESFP. Of course, there are general grounds for arguing over emotion vs. logic, but both types can have quite a good bit of talent and practicality coexisting. ESFJs tend to be a little better with criticisms (although they are still sensitive and should be treated very gently too) and they're more likely to want to accomplish goals that the INTJ finds easier to respect. For a lot of ISFJs, their goals are sweet and simple like raising a family, working as a computer scientist. The ESFJ might be a little more oriented towards large goals similar to that of the ESFP, which is more of the category that INTJs tend to fall into. However, the INTJ is going to have to accept that ESFJs love a LOT which means throwing a LOT of parties, probably the most out of any type and its probably going to lead to some burnouts.

Overall, INTJs are great but need to learn to practice kindness and put their natural tendency for intellectual superiority aside. They shouldn't be with anyone that doesn't want to accomplish things they can respect. They shouldn't be with people who want them to compromise too much (they probably won't). They should be with people who bring out their nurturing capabilities and who they want to do things for, but not people that they see as incapable of taking care of themselves. They may prefer more social people and admire people who can network while being direct and genuine. Based on these criteria, INFJs and ENTPs are my highest recommendations while ESFPs (my favorite) and ISTJs also make the list for various reasons.

BUT, that being said, RELATIONSHIPS (including friendships) ARE A SKILL. They are most successful when someone becomes good at learning respect and compromise that doesn't cause resentment, regardless of type. All individuals will have different specific interests as well as red flags. And if you need me to tell you if your relationship works, it probably doesn't and you can DM me.

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sourholland · 4 years ago

Note

Ooooh angst “what about us?” “there is no us, there never was.” with tom plssss! Really love ur work 🌸

Last Kiss || Tom Holland

Summary → After a fling you and Tom had started while filming a movie together, he tells you that you two can’t be together anymore. Once you get home, Tom let’s you know that he made a mistake.

AN → This was supposed to come out yesterday, I just got lazy and waited to edit it. I can’t tell if I like how this came out or hate it, either way, I hope you guys like this. Also in honor of the Fearless re-record!!

Pairing(s) → Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Warnings → Strong Language, Suggestive, Alcohol Use

Prompt(s) → 38

Word Count → 1.9k

The ringing of your phone sounded through your apartment loudly, the sound of the rain pattering loudly against the windows out-looking New York City. You set down the remote, feet padding against the cold hardwood while you looked for your buzzing cellphone.

You didn’t bother glancing at the caller ID, picking it up bringing it to your ear all in one quick motion.

“Hello?” You said, pulling a wine glass down from the cabinet.

“Y/N?” Tom’s voice came through the phone.

Your heart dropped, a breath catching in your throat while you stood in your kitchen. He was across the country, wanting nothing to do with you. He repeated your name through the phone, asking if you were there.

“Yeah, I’m here,” you answered, pouring more wine than you’d originally intended into the glass.

“Isn’t it like one in the morning in England?” You asked, listening to the muffles coming through the speaker.

“Yeah—yeah, it’s late here. I just couldn’t sleep, and I started to think of you. Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have called.”

You sat at one of the barstools, swirling the red contents of the glass around. You wanted to yell at him, or maybe you wanted to tell him how much you loved him. You sat silently for a few moments, bare legs cold from the draft.

“Tom,” you started. “I just don’t get why we have to rehash the past, you know? I came back to New York, just like you told me I should. You’re working on whatever new movie, I’m doing the same. I don’t know—I just think we should leave whatever happened between us alone. You made it very clear that it was me that you didn’t want,” you mumbled, pulling at the sleeves of your sweater.

He audibly sighed, the ruffling of sheets coming through the phone. He was probably in bed, if he wasn’t so far away you’d have asked him if this was a sad attempt at getting you to sleep with him.

“I was fucking stupid, and I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so fucking sorry, I’ve said that a million times,” his voice was hoarse and tired.

“I’ve already forgiven you, Tom. I just can’t keep doing this—this thing with you.”

You both went quiet for a minute, the only sound being the noise from outside in the bustling streets of the city and the rain. You knew you should hang up, block his number and forget about anything you two ever had. You’d tried a few times, unable to bring yourself to doing it.

“What about us?” He asked lowly, a twinge of hurt in his tired voice.

“There is no us, Tom,” you replied. “I’m not even sure there ever was.”

He didn’t say anything, you wanted to let out the repressed cry and tell him you didn’t mean it. That you were sorry and that you thought about him more than you’d like to admit. Something in you knew if you didn’t do your best to cut it off, you two would continue down the same everlasting cycle.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay.”

The line went silent for a moment, and then your home screen lit up. The call had been ended. You downed the remainder of your wine, ditching the cup and just going for the bottle. You thought about calling him back, about apologizing and booking a plane ticket like some lovesick teenager.

You opened Instagram and began scrolling through your feed of posts, liking and commenting occasionally. You weren’t anywhere near drunk, merely tipsy and heartbroken. Your finger lingered on the button to go live, wondering if you really wanted thousands of people to see you in this state.

You left the kitchen and instead propped your phone against the couch, taking a seat on the white rug of your living room. You wearily pressed the go live button, raising the bottle to your chapped lips once more. You are pathetic, you thought.

“Hey guys!” You smiled at the camera and outpouring of greetings in the comments. Within a few minutes you’d racked in a few thousand viewers. You grabbed the guitar sitting against your wall and strummed the cords lightly while it sat in your lap.

userone: you are so adorable

usertwo: can you please say hi?!!!??

userthree: it’s my birthday y/n!

“I’m sorry I haven’t been very active on social media, guys. It’s been super crazy traveling back and forth from London to New York and then having to leave again in a few weeks. And now I’m sitting on my living room floor with a bottle of wine,” you laughed. A few familiar people popped into the comments of the live, some you’ve worked with and some you’ve yet to meet in person.

florencepugh: y/n!!!

gracieabrams: might just bust out the wine just for u

“Florence, I can’t wait to see you soon!” You smiled, “Gracie, I swear it’s making everything like a hundred times better.”

userfour: i’m in love with her

userfive: y/n saving 2021???!!!

“I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to be singing,” you flushed. You did sing, before getting into acting you’d post a lot on Instagram and TikTok. It’d always been more of a hobby, something you loved to do, but weren’t good enough to pursue.

“I’ve had a little too much to drink,” you added. “So don’t get upset if I’m a little pitchy, guys.”

usersix: if she’s pitchy i’m not sure what i am

userseven: sing taylor swift!!!

“Okay, okay!” You chuckled, scrolling through the hundreds of comments saying to play Taylor Swift. You’d only just been crying to like three of her albums a few hours before.

“How about the chorus—and maybe the bridge too, yeah, that’ll work,” you mumbled to yourself, fiddling with the strings. “Alright, guys, Last Kiss it is. I won’t bore you all with the whole thing, though. I could never do Taylor justice.”

“And I’ll go sit on the floor, wearing your clothes”

Getting involved with him was singlehandedly the most stupid decision you’ve ever made, you thought. Late nights in his flat after long nights on set, ordering in and just talking, you two would talk as if you’d known each other your whole lives. It was something about the way he’d let you wear his clothes, or the way he’d tuck your hair behind your ear while you told him about whatever insignificant thing that had happened that day.

“All that I know,

I don’t know how to be something you miss”

The car ride to the airport was the worst, it was grey and cold outside. There was makeup running down your face, mascara covering your eyes generously. You’d wrapped filming a week earlier, unable to bring yourself to walk away from him.

You couldn’t tell the driver to turn you around, or could you? Tom had already made it clear that you were both in different places in your career. This wasn’t what he wanted. You weren’t what he wanted.

“I never thought we’d have our last kiss”

He had held you just a little tighter, you ran your fingers through his hair for just a second longer. The taste of each other lingering on the both of your lips. Like you knew it would be the last time he’d hold you without knowing.

His stupid smiled, the way he pulled away and ran his thumb over your swollen bottom lip. You were almost wrapped around his finger, absolutely sickened with desire and infatuation for him.

“I never imagined we’d end like this,

Your name, forever the name on my lips”

The day you’d left to come home to New York started with a huge argument between the two of you. He’d basically just told you that you’d both known from the beginning you wouldn’t last together. It wasn’t a matter of how much you cared for one another, but that it was impossible, as he put it.

His eyes glossed over and bloodshot, you a complete and utter mess. Slamming the door behind you as you left was one of the most painful things you’d ever endured. Even more painful, the fact that he never came after you.

“So I’ll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep”

“I can feel you staring at me, love,” he murmured against the pillow.

Your face heated, eyes averting to the stream of light through the sheerness of the curtains. He leaned into you a moment later, his lips soft on your own. He was warm, he was always so warm. You cupped the side of his face gently, pulling him in a bit harder.

“And I feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe”

You dropped your bags, stepping into your apartment after months of being away. It felt quieter than usual, desolate and empty from your being away. It was dark out, the illumination of the bright city lights from your windows.

You glanced down at your phone for a moment, not a missed call, not a text, not even a fucking notification. He’d simply told you to go home, nothing more nothing less.

“I keep up with our old friends just to ask them how you are,

Hope it’s nice where you are”

You’d texted Harrison a few times, regretting it almost immediately after. He was sweet, telling you that Tom would come around eventually and to just be patient. You’d relied on those kind words for some time, eventually deleting them all together.

After Tom’s first text, you’d realized he wasn’t coming around or regretting what he’d said to you. He was lonely, maybe even a bit desperate. For months you had been there to listen to him and hold him, and now you were gone.

You’d fed into it the first few times, sitting on the phone with him for hours at a time. Then you started to feel worse hearing his voice, silent sobs escaping as you’d listen to him ramble. Then your finger would linger over the decline button a little longer than usual when he’d call, until eventually you started to use it.

“And I hope the sun shines and it’s a beautiful day,

And something reminds you,

You wish you had stayed”

Once you started to go out with other guys, Tom’s ‘I miss you’ texts became more infrequent. Paparazzi would snap pictures, and the next morning they’d be plastered all over the internet.

There was no doubt he was seeing you going out with other people, watching article after article about who you were dating surface. Would he be jealous? No, you thought. Tom was probably doing the same thing as you. Hopeless hookups, meaningless blind dates.

“You can plan for a change in the weather and time”

One early morning, you found yourself in a sweatshirt you’d stolen from one of his drawers and forgotten to return. Listening to the morning rush of traffic and hugging yourself, noticing the lingering smell of his cologne.

You wondered if he knew you’d taken it, if he would think you were pathetic wearing it months after you two had broken things off. This only made you clutch yourself a little tighter, closing your eyes and trying to remember.

“But I never planned on you changing your mind”

#tom holland imagines #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader

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nopefun · 4 years ago

Text

Interview #494: Ryan Frigillana

Ryan Frigillana is a Philippine-born lens-based artist living and working in New York. His work focuses on the fluidity of memory, intimacy, family identity, and visual culture, largely filtered through the lens of race and immigration. Embracing its plasticity, Frigillana explores photography’s relationship to context as a catalyst for thematic dialogue.

His first monograph, Visions of Eden, was published as two editions in 2020, and is held in the library collections of the MoMA, Getty Research Institute, and Smithsonian among others.

We spoke to find out more about Visions of Eden, his love for photobooks, and photography as a medium for introspection.

Lee Chang Ming Ryan Frigillana

Thanks for agreeing to do this! As we’ve just arrived into the new year, I want to start by asking: how did you arrive at photography and how has your practice evolved so far? Your earlier work was anything from still life to street photography, but your recent work seems to deal with more personal themes.

It’s my pleasure; thank you for having this conversation with me! Wow, looking back at how I’ve arrived at this point makes me feel so grateful for this medium, and excited to think of where it will lead me from here. I came to photography somewhat late. I was initially studying to become a nurse and was set to start a career in that field, but I found myself unhappy with where I was going. My mother was a nurse and I know what goes into being one; it’s not an easy job, and I respect those who do it, but my heart wasn’t in it. I found photography as a creative outlet during that stage of my life, and I’ve clung onto it ever since.

My first exposure to photography (no pun intended) came in the form of street and photojournalism. I would borrow books from the library a lot, consuming works by Magnum and other photographers working in that tradition. At the time, it was all I knew so that’s what I tried to emulate. Even early on in my undergrad career, these modes of creation were reinforced by curriculum and by what I saw from my own peers. My still-life work branches off of that same sentiment: the only names that were ever thrown around by professors were Penn and Mapplethorpe, so that’s who I studied. Thankfully over the years, I’ve been able to broaden that perspective through my own research. Though I don’t necessarily pursue street or constructed still-lifes anymore for my personal work, I’d like to think my technical skills (in regard to timing, composition, light) owe a debt to those past experiences.

I suppose now I’m starting to explore how photography can be used as language, to communicate ideas and internal conflicts. I’m thinking more about the power of imagery, its authorship, its implications, and how photographs have shaped, and continue to shape, our reality. That’s where my work is headed at the moment.

I liked how you mentioned photography as a language, which calls into question who we are speaking to when we make images and what kind of narrative we construct by putting photographs together.

In your work “Visions of Eden”, you trace your family’s journey as first-generation Filipino immigrants in America. I was quite struck by how you managed to link together original photography, archived materials and video stills. To me, with the original photography there was a sense of calm and clarity, perhaps in the composition. But with the archived material it was like peering through tinted glass, and the video stills felt like an unsteady memory. What was the editing process like for you and how did you decide what to include or exclude?

For me, editing is the hardest part about photography. Shooting is the enjoyable part of course because it can feel so cathartic. Sometimes when I shoot it feels almost like muscle memory in the sense that you see the world and you just react to it in a trained way. But with editing, it’s more of a cerebral exercise. More thought is involved when you have to deal with visual relationships, sequence, rhythm, and spacing, etc. The real creation of my work takes place in the editing process. That’s where the ingredients come together to form an identity.

When creating this identity, I not only have to think about what I want to say, but also how I want to say it. It’s like speaking; there are numerous ways you can communicate a single sentence. How are images placed in relation to one another? How large are they printed, or how much white space surrounds it? Are the images repeated? What’s on the following page? The preceding page? Is there text? How are they positioned on the spread? All of these little choices impact the tone of your work. And that’s not even mentioning tactile factors like paper stock or cover material. I think that’s why I have such a deep love for photobooks because 1) they’re physical objects and 2) someone has obsessed over every aspect of that object.

I’m aware that my photographs lately have a quiet, detached, somewhat stripped-down quality to them. I think that’s just a subconscious rejection of my earlier days shooting a lot of street where I was constantly seeking crowded frames and complexity in my compositions. As I’ve grown older, I realize less is more and if I can do more by saying less, that’s even better. Now, the complexity I seek lies in the work as a whole and how all these little parts can form something fluid and layered, and not easily definable.

For Visions of Eden, I wanted the work to feel somewhat syncopated and wandering in thought. That meant finding a balance between my quiet static photographs and the movement and energy of the video stills, or balancing the coldness of the illustrations with the warmth of the family snapshots. The work needed to be cohesive but have enough ambiguity for it to take life in someone else’s imagination. Peoples’ lived experiences in regard to immigration and religion are so complex that they can’t be narrated in any one definitive way. Visions of Eden, hopefully, is a rejection of that singularity.

Yes, there’s definitely something special and intimate about flipping through a photobook! For your monograph, you recently released a second edition which is different from your first (redesigned, added images, etc.). Why did you decide to make it different? Was the editing mainly a solitary process?

The first edition was a partially hand-made object. Illustrations were printed on translucent vellum paper and then tipped into the gutter of the book. When you flip through the pages, those vellum sheets would overlap over certain images, creating a collage-like effect. That was my original concept for this book. Doing this, however, was so laborious and time consuming, and not to mention expensive! Regretfully, I wound up making only twenty copies of that first edition. I wanted the work shared with a wider audience so that’s why I decided to publish a second run.

The latest edition is more of a straight-forward production without the vellum paper. With this change in design, I had to reconfigure the layout. I took liberties in swapping out some images or adding new ones altogether. Also, a beautiful afterword was contributed by my friend, artist, writer, and curator Efrem Zelony-Mindell. I still feel so fortunate and grateful to have had my work seen and elevated by their words in my book.

For the most part, yes editing is quite a solitary process for me. But there does come a point when I feel it’s ready, where I share the work with a few trusted people. It’s always nice to have that outer support system. Much of Visions of Eden was created during my time in undergrad school so I had all sorts of feedback from peers and professors which I’m grateful for. But in the end, as the author, you ultimately have the final say in your work.

Given that Eden is a starting point and metaphor in the work, I was thinking about ideas of gardens, (forbidden) fruit, and movement of people.

How do you view yourself in relation to your place of birth? In your series, I see the most direct links in the letters, old photos where tropical foliage is present in the background, and the photo of the jackfruit (perhaps the only tropical fruit in this series).

I came to America when I was very young, about five years old. For my family and for many other families still living in the Philippines, America is seen as a sort of ideological Eden: a land of milk and honey, of wealth and excess. We all know that’s far from the truth. Every Eden has a caveat, a forbidden tree. Which leads me to ask: as an immigrant living in this country, what fruits were never intended for me?

I honestly don’t remember much about my childhood in the Philippines aside from fleeting memories of my relatives, the sounds of animals, the smell of rain and earth, the taste of my grandmother’s cooking. The identity that I carry with me now as a Filipino is not so much tied to the physical geography of a place but rather it is derived from a way of life, from shared stories, in the values we hold dear, passed on from generation to generation. This is a warm flame that lives on in me to this day as I write these words thousands of miles away from where I came.

Photographs have a way of shaping our memory and our relationship to the past, which in turn affects how we engage with the present. The family photographs and letters used in my book act as anchors in a meandering journey. They serve as landmarks that I can return to whenever I feel lost or need assurance so far away from “home”. They give me the comfort and affirmation that I need to navigate a space where I never really felt I belonged. The spread in my book that you mentioned—the jackfruit on one side, and the Saran-wrapped apple on the preceding page—was a reference to my duality as both Filipino and American. It’s a reminder and an acknowledgment that I am a sum of many things, of many people who have shaped me. If I flourish in life, it’s because my roots were nourished by love.

I like how you mentioned photos as anchors or landmarks. Isn’t that why we create and photograph? To mark certain points in our lives and to envision possible futures, like a cartographer mapping an inner journey. Do you feel like you and your relationships with those you photographed changed through the process of making your works?

When my parents took pictures of our family, it wasn’t done solely in the name of remembrance; it also served as an affirmation of ourselves and our journey—a celebration. Every birthday, vacation, school ceremony, or even the seemingly insignificant events of daily life were all photographed or video-taped as a way of saying to ourselves, “Here we are. Look how far we’ve come. Look at the life we’ve made. And here’s the proof”.

Now, holding a camera and photographing my family through my own lens still carries all of that celebratory joy, but with so much more possibility. Before I really took photography seriously, I never realized its potential as a medium for introspection, but that’s ultimately what it has become for me. In taking pictures of my family, I not only clarify my own feelings about them, but the act of photography itself informs and builds on my relationship with each person. The camera is not a mere recording device, but a tool for understanding, processing, and even expressing love...or resentment. Though I may not be visible in my pictures, my presence is there: in my proximity, my gaze, my focus.

Does all of this impact my relationships? Absolutely. Photographing another person willingly always demands some degree of trust and vulnerability from both sides. There’s a silent dialogue that occurs which feels like an exchange of secrets. I think that’s why I often don’t feel comfortable photographing other people unless we’re very close. Usually my family is open enough to reveal themselves to me, other times what they give can feel quite guarded. That’s a constant negotiation. After the photograph is made though, nobody ever emerges the same person because each of us has relinquished something, no matter how small.

Being self-reflexive in photography is so important. I agree it should be a constant negotiation, but it’s something that bothers me these days – the power dynamic between the photographer and photograph, particularly for personal and documentary projects. More significantly, after the photograph has been made, who is really benefiting. But I guess if we are sensitive to that then perhaps we can navigate that tricky path and find a balance.

Right, finding that balance is key and sometimes there are no clear-cut answers. That power dynamic is something I always have to be mindful of. As the photographer, you are exercising a certain role and position. At the end of the day, you’re the one essentially “taking” what you need and walking away. There’s an inherent violence or aggression in the act of taking someone’s picture, no matter how well-intended it may be. This aggression carries even greater weight when working, as you say, in a genre like documentary where representation is everything.

I remember an undergrad professor of mine, Nadia Sablin, introducing me to the work of Shelby Lee Adams—particularly his Appalachian Legacy series. Adams spent twenty-five years documenting the disadvantaged Appalachian communities in his home state of Kentucky, visiting the same families over a long period of time. Though the photographs are beautifully crafted, they pose many questions in regard to exploitation, representation, and the aestheticization of suffering. He is or was, after all, an artist thriving and profiting off of these photographs. Salgado is another that comes to mind. This was the first time I really stopped to think about the ethics of image-making. Who is benefitting from it all?

I think the search for this balance is something each photographer has to reckon with personally. Though each situation may vary with different factors that have to be weighed, and context that must be applied, you can always ask yourself these same ever-pertinent questions: am I representing people in a dignified way, and what are my intentions with these images? Communication (listening), building relationships, acknowledging your power, and respecting the people you photograph are all foundational things to consider when exercising your privilege with the camera.

Well said! The process of making photographs can be tricky to navigate yet rewarding. Any upcoming projects or ideas? What’s keeping you busy these days?

Oh, let’s just say I’m constantly juggling 3-4 ideas in my head at any given time, but ninety percent of the time they don’t ever lead to anything finished haha. This past year has been tough on everyone I’m sure. I’ve been dealing a lot with personal loss and grief and the compounded isolation brought on by the pandemic, so for months I’ve been making photographs organically as a subconscious response to these internal struggles. It’s more of an exploration of grief itself as a natural phenomenon and force—like time or gravity. Grief is something everyone will experience in life and each of us deals with it differently, but in the end we have to let it run its course. I see these photographs as a potential body of work that could materialize as a zine or book one day, so we’ll see where that goes.

Other than that, I’ve been working on an upcoming collaboration project with Cumulus Photo. Speaking of which, I saw your photograph featured in their latest zine, running to the edge of the world. Congrats on that! It’s beautiful. But yeah, just trying my best to keep busy and sane, and improving myself any way I can.

Thanks! Looking forward to your upcoming projects! Last question: any music to recommend?

I feel like my answer to this question can vary by the week. I go through phases where I exhaust whole albums on repeat until I get tired of them. So I’ll leave you with the two currently on my rotation: Angles by The Strokes, and Screamadelica by Primal Scream.

Thank you for your time!

Thank you for a lovely discourse. I had a lot of fun!

his website and Instagram.

Get more updates on our Facebook page and Instagram.

#Ryan Frigillana #nope fun #new york #photographer interview #artist interview #Contemporary Photography #Visions of Eden #PhotoBook

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multiplefandomfics · 3 years ago

Text

Vacation

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Virgin!PlusSize!reader

Warnings: self consciousness, unprotected smut, authority kink, daddy kink, angst, fluff

Words:3295

You were sitting in a bar somewhere in Croatia. Frustrated about the turn of recent events.

The trip was supposed to be about you and your friends. Just enjoying the sun and ocean. No boys allowed! But then on the 2nd evening your friends had abandoned you at the bar to go clubbing with some boys from spain. Fan-fucking-tastic, you thought.

There went your nice all girls vacation. The way you knew your friends you weren't going to see them for a while.

Just as you were about to pay your tab and leave, someone sat down next to you and started talking. “Hi, sweetheart. You alone here?” he didn’t say much but you recognized that voice immediately. Your head snapped upwards and your eyes widened. Of all the people you would have never expected him there. Sebastian Stan. The man of your wet dreams.

You fumbled your phone out of your purse and unlocked the screen. Yep, he was definitely the man from your wallpaper.

“You okay there?” he asked, smiling before his eyes fell on your background picture.

“Oh, so you know me.” he figured.

“Ehm, yeah, yeah I do. Holy shit you’re even more beautiful in person.” you swooned.

He laughed heartily at that and ordered you and himself another drink.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you with your girlfriend on vacation? Sorry if I give off stalker vibes” you turned red faced.

“That’s a long story but to cut to the chase, I don’t have a girlfriend anymore.” his face turned slightly sour at the thought of his ex.

“Oh, I’m genuinely sorry to hear that. She seemed to make you happy.”

“Well, she did. But not anymore. So enough of her, what’s your name and what are you doing here?” He changed the topic.

“How rude of me, my name is Y/N and I was initially here to have a nice week with my girls. But now they've abandoned me in favor of some guys. So I decided to have a few drinks by myself and then go back to the house we rented.” you let all your frustration out.

“Wow, that sounds terrible. But the night doesn’t have to end like this. Would you like to dance?” he asked friendly.

“I can’t dance.” you objected.

“I’ll lead you, come on.” he paid for both of your drinks and then held out his hand for you to take. And how could you say no to that face?

“Alright. Let’s do this. And thanks for the drinks but you didn’t need to pay for me.” you told him.

“I know. You look like you could hold your own but I simply wanted to pay.” he grinned and you accepted his answer.

He pulled you onto the kinda crowded dance floor and guided your hands on his shoulders. Then he guided your clumsy body to the beat and soon it started to be real funny.

“Okay, that was fun but I need a break. And preferably some fresh air.” you yelled over the music out of breath.

He understood and took you outside in front of the bar and a bit away from the entrance where the smokers stood.

“See I told you if you ease into things and give me a chance I can make this a night you won’t forget.” he grinned, mischievously.

“A bit cheeky aren’t we?” you tried to play his game but his advances made you a bit uncomfortable to say the least.

The thing was, you didn’t decide on a men free vacation with your friends because you wanted to get a break from all the guys pursuing you at home but because your friends were constantly surrounded by guys and only talked about their experiences with the opposite sex and that reminded you of how inexperienced you were.

You had always been self conscious. Your girl friends were always tall and skinny or at least of normal weight and could wear all the trendiest clothes but you could not shop for nice wearables so easily. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, when you went out with your friends and you had really given your look everything, still they were advanced by men and you weren’t. It was frustrating.

That brought you back to the situation at hand- why did Sebastian Stan, Hollywood hottie, decide to pick you out of all these beautiful girls at the bar? It was a riddle to you.

“Can I ask you something?” you hesitantly asked.

“Anything.” he smiled.

“Why did you want to talk to me?”

The hurt in your eyes told him that you were genuinely interested in an honest answer.

“Because you seemed lonely and so am I. Also you are beautiful and now I know that you are kind and funny, too. You are perfect.” you couldn’t believe that.

“Are you serious? Me? Perfect? You have gotta be kidding me!” you scoffed.

“Why would I? In you I see something permanent. Something that could develop into more. What do you see?” he asked, concerned.

“I don’t know. I just have never heard that I am beautiful from a man before.” you looked down, embarrassed.

“You can’t be serious! What kind of stupid idiots have you met in your life before?” he asked, astonished.

“The kind that wants a model type by their side. Just the kind of arm candy you should have by yours too. Not a chubby girl like me. I’m sorry I wasted your time.” you had to hold back tears at your confession and wanted to turn around to leave. But he grabbed your arm and forced you to look at him. “Hey, don’t go. I meant what I said. I am sorry that you have only been hurt by men so far but I promise I’m not like that. You can rely on me. I really want to get to know you. Let me take you home and we watch a movie or something? It’s only 10pm. No strings attached.” he offered.

That did sound like a dream and you decided quickly that you had nothing to lose if you said yes.

“Okay. The house is right up that hill and behind that little bit of forest.” you informed him.

He offered his arm, gentlemen like and you took it.

“So where are you from when you are on vacation here at the moment?” he asked to make smalltalk.

“I’m from Germany.”

“Impossible! I heard Germans speak English and they have a strong accent. You have barely an accent and I would have placed you closer to the states.” he was surprised.

“I hear that a lot actually. But I have never been to the US. I just watch a lot of movies and TV shows in English. And I read books in English too.” you smiled bashfully.

“That’s amazing. I think I have a stronger european accent than you do and I’ve lived in the US since I was 12.” he laughed.

“Well, English is my comfort language so I’m always happy when I can use it.” you said nonchalantly.

“Marvelous. You’re amazing.” he complimented.

“Oh, stop it.” you turned red.

“I’m only saying what's true.”

“You’re too kind.”

You walked uphill towards the small wood you had to cross, in the dark. Great idea!

He walked pretty fast and you had to almost jog to keep up with him which made you sweat and got you terribly out of breath.

When the trees around you got thicker and it got even darker it happened. You stepped on a rock, it rolled to the side and you twisted your ankle.

“Shit! Ouch!” you exclaimed loudly.

“What happened?” he asked scared.

“Twisted my ankle. It’s just too fucking dark.” you were angry at yourself for being so stupid.

“Damn. Can you step on your foot?” he asked.

“I don’t know. But what other options do we have? I gotta try.”

You stepped from your left foot onto your right and it buckled beneath you under the pain. “Fuck!”

“Okay that won’t work.” he stated and the next second he just picked you up bridal style and started to carry you on.

“Are you crazy? Let me down. I’m definitely too heavy to carry.” you ordered him.

“No, you are not. And when you try to hobble home we won’t make it until sunrise. So now shut up and let me carry you.” he silenced you efficiently.

“But take a break if you need to, and you will need one eventually.” you mumbled.

The rest of the way you held onto him and buried your face in his neck. Damn, did he smell good. It almost made you moan.

When you arrived at the door he didn’t let you down as you would have expected him to, no, he grabbed the keys from your hands, opened the door and carried you into the living room to lay you down on the couch.

“Thank you Sebastian. You are so kind. What can I ever do to repay you?” you asked him.

“Hmm, maybe let me kiss you?” he suggested and you had to swallow nervously. He immediately picked up on your hesitation “Only if you want to of course.”

“Sure I want to, but… I have never kissed anyone before.” you averted your eyes in embarrassment.

“Then let me change that, please.” he begged. You saw no resentment or reproach in his beautifully blue eyes.

Of course you caved and nodded your consent.

He leaned closer to your crouched form on the couch, put his hand on your thigh and brushed his lips to yours.

The kiss was sweet and careful not to startle you or demand something from you that you could feel uncomfortable with.

“So how was your first kiss?” he asked and smiled.

“Very nice.” you looked blissed out at him. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I would really love to do that again.”

“Please do.” you confirmed.

Oh and he did. The kiss was magical. This time he pushed his tongue sensually into your mouth and you were stunned how good that felt.

“You okay?” he wanted to know afterwards.

“More than okay. I’m happy you picked me at the bar. Usually they say “never meet your heroes” but with you that’s different.”

“Thanks,doll. That means a lot to me.” he leaned in and kissed your neck.

At the mention of that particular nickname your posture stiffened. He noticed.

“What’s wrong? Did I say something?”

“Ehm, well … you know I haven’t only had a crush on you but also on Bucky… maybe.” you whispered.

At first he seemed confused as to where this confession suddenly came from but then it clicked.

“It’s the nickname. I called you doll.” he laughed. “I didn’t even register that I got that from him. But if it turns you on I will keep using it.” that grin could win you over any day.

“I could get used to it actually. I never would have imagined someone calling me that. But you make it sound so hot. Thanks for making me feel good.”

“Anytime, doll.” he kissed you again.

“By the way, didn’t we wanna watch a movie?” you suddenly asked.

“Yes, of course. Do they have Netflix or something on here?” did he wanna know.

“Disney+. And with it all the Marvel Movies.” you winked at him.

“Anything you want, doll.” he kept using that nickname over and over but you loved it.

“Which one have you not seen yet?”

“I think I’ve actually seen them all. Which one is your favorite?”

“I love the ones you’re in the most.” you confessed.

“Okay, close your eyes and I’ll pick your favorite one.” he suggested.

“Alright. Let’s give it a try.” you agreed.

When you were allowed to open your eyes again you saw the opening credits of a Marvel movie flashing. You recognized the first scene: The Washington Monument and a very exhausted looking Sam Wilson and you heard “on your left” which made you smile. He knew then that he had picked the right movie.

“Good choice.” you praised him.

Then you cuddled up to him and he put his arm around you.

Although you were pretty tired after about half the movie you could not skip over one second of that glorious movie.

“You know- the Winter Soldier is kinda hot. So determined and dominant.” You slurred when you saw him walk down that car after he jumped from the bridge.

“You think so? You like to be dominated? Controlled? Called names? Maybe tied up and used?” he growled into your ear.

“Fuck.” you whimpered and clenched your thighs.

“You like the thought of that don’t you?” he bit into your earlobe.

You nodded furiously.

“Use your words babygirl.”

“Yes, sir.” you said.

“So, an authority kink is there too. And here I thought you were so innocent.” he pushed.

“How can you be innocent when you read fanfiction almost every day?” you quipped.

“Fanfiction, huh? Can you show me examples so I can paint myself a picture?” he asked.

You took your phone out and opened Tumblr. Then you searched for your favorite Bucky fanfic with all the kinks you enjoyed and handed the phone to him.

He read with interest and you studied his facial expressions, smirking when you saw reactions to certain parts you had expected to come.

“So that’s the kind of naughty literature you enjoy alone in your bed, touching yourself maybe.” he growled.

“Yes, sir. The imagination of what you could do to me makes me so wet.” you bit your lip seductively.

Suddenly you were in a flow. All the insecurities about your body and weight were gone. Only him and your sexual fantasies existed in the moment.

“Fuck baby.” he moaned and grabbed your hand to push it onto his growing bulge. “Feel what you do to me, doll?”

“So hot.” you moaned back and felt the urge to take charge. So you got onto your knees and sat in his lap grinding down on him.

Before anything could go further he stopped you and whispered “if at any point you want to stop or feel uncomfortable or I’m doing something you are not ready for or don’t like, tell me and we will stop immediately. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sebastian. I understand. Thanks.”

And so it continued. Grinding and kissing. Until he suddenly stood up abruptly holding you close. “I’m not taking your virginity on this couch. Where is your bedroom?”

He was so considerate “upstairs and then the last door on the right.”

He carried you to the room, carefully laying you down on the bed so as to not disturb your injured foot.

When he unbuttoned the button down he was wearing and took it off you were already drooling.

“Let me undress you, darling. Turn around so I can unzip your dress. Which is beautiful by the way.” he suggested and winked.

You did as he told you and soon felt your dress falling off your shoulders. He helped you pull it over your head and left you in your bra, chub rub shorts and panties.

A little embarrassed at the shorts you looked to the side. But you couldn’t go out in a dress without wearing any type of pants underneath.

“You are so sexy, baby.” he did everything to make you feel comfortable and you started to believe him.

“May I?” he motioned for your bra and you nodded your consent.

Next he took off his jeans and the realization of what was to come started to seep into your mind.

“You still okay with this?” he made sure.

“Yes. I want this Sebastian. I really do. I trust you” you assured him.

So he proceeded with the rest of your clothes and lastly his boxer shorts.

The whole time he kept kissing you hungrily. When he crawled on top of you and you had that skin on skin contact you had never felt so safe with anyone before.

“I gotta prep you before we go all the way, alright? Don’t wanna hurt you, doll.” he whispered between kisses.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, promise.”

“Please.” you begged.

That’s when he scooted down your body, kissing every inch of skin he could reach. The next thing you felt was him placing a kiss on your mound, and then his tongue poking out starting to flick your clit. He pushed your legs further apart to gain better access.

“Fuck, feels so good.” you moaned just when he inserted one finger into your tight pussy. “Oh, my gosh. Don’t stop.” you begged him.

“I won’t” he mumbled and kept attacking your clit.

“‘m so close.”

“Come for me baby. Come now.” That command was the last straw which brought you to orgasm.

Breathlessly you smiled down at him and he smiled right back at you.

“You up for more?” he needed the confirmation that you were alright.

“Yes, sir. Now I don’t know why I have never done this before. I don’t ever want you to stop again.” At that statement he laughed heartily.

“Then let’s start, shall we?” he kept kissing over your belly, up to your breasts, licked your nipples and sucked hickies onto your neck.

“Ready?”

“Can you just fuck me already?” you asked annoyed.

“Someones being needy.” he joked and finally penetrated your pussy.

“Oh, fuck. So big. Hmmm. deep. Shit.” you were already reduced to a mumbling mess.

“Such a tight fit. You feel amazing.” he buried his head into your neck.

And then he started to move. Slowly at first but picked up speed rapidly. He hit spots inside you that your favorite vibrator was never able to get.

End then something you never wanted anyone to hear slipped your mouth “Fuck, daddy. Harderr!” and suddenly he stopped completely and you mewled disappointed until you realized what you had said. You opened your eyes to see his reaction.

You expected him to be disgusted but all you could see was a hunger. He looked like a predator who finally caught his prey.

“Say that again!” he growled. That statement of his made a surge of pride and confidence rush through you.

You bit your lip mischievously and said “Please, daddy. Fuck me harder.” and he immediately snapped.

He pistoned his hips forward, hitting your cervix over and over until you were so desperately close.

“You’re about to come, aren’t you? I can feel your pussy squeezing me, doll. Alright I’m gonna count down and I want you to come with me. Understood”

“Yes, daddy please… need to come… so bad.”

“Five..” deep thrust. “Four…” nip to the collarbone. “Three…” you clawed at his back. “Two…” you tried your hardest not to come and closed your eyes. “Look at me babygirl..” so you opened your eyes. “One… Come” and the dam broke. You had never come so hard in your life. No toy could ever make you feel the way this man did. Your quivering cunt made him come so hard. When he rolled off you he was breathing just as heavy as you were. The only noise you heard was your rapid heartbeat and blood rushing in your ears.

“That was amazing. We definitely need to do that again” you said.

“Oh yes. Anytime.”

The next week flew by so quickly and you two spent most of it in bed. You decided that your lives needed to be lived together so the next chance you got you would be moving in with him. Sometimes dreams do come true!

#marvel #mcu #sebastian stan #buckybarnes #reader insert #smut #fluff #fanfic

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arvinsescape · 3 years ago

Note

Can you write a one shot (as long as you want, just not a blurb, thz) where there is a big family dinner, both Hollands and Osterfields, plus friends, so like Tuwaine is also there, Haz' gf is there, and Charlotte has inviteret her best friend, you, (just age Charlotte up, cuz she is only 19, so like 23). And Tom falls so bad for her, but she is his best friends little sisters best friend (hope it isn't too confusing), so it's kinda complicated. You can choose the rest <3 love u

A/N: Thank you for sending it in! I hope this is what you were looking for! I have aged up Charlotte and reader, they are both 23, hope that's okay. I kept with the concept 💕

Warnings: Language and implied sex.

Tom had met you a couple of times and he couldn't help the way you made his heart race, he really wished it wouldn't. When he says he's met you though, he's never properly spoken to you, you're so quiet. Not that he thought that was a bad thing he just didn't know how to speak to you.

He'd realised that if he ever did want to get to know you better he was going to have to initiate the conversation. So here he was sat next to Tuwaine, as they chatted with the rest of his family and waited for everyone else to show up.

"Hey!" Harrison waved, followed by Grace and Charlotte, who were all waving. You behind them all as you shyly waved your hand in everyone's direction. Tom thought it was absolutely fucking adorable. He tried to shake the thought from his head. You were his best friend's sister's best friend (as confusing as that sounded).

Although he knew it was technically fine, you were the same age as Charlotte, 23, something about pursuing you felt wrong. What if it didn't work out? Things would be awkward, right? But then if it did work out, who would care? Tom cursed the part of his brain that was pushing him to be selfish. You could have a boyfriend for all he knew.

Everyone took their seats and you quietly sat next to Tom and Charlotte. Tom's heart was racing again as it always did in your presence.

"Hey." Tom said and you offered a small smile in response, almost as though you didn't trust your voice. Tom realised that for someone like you, sitting next to someone who was famous might be nerve racking.

"He doesn't bite." He heard Charlotte whisper to you and you swallowed thickly before turning your attention to him.

"Hi." You said and although it was quiet, he heard it loud and clear and your voice sounded beautiful to him.

"I don't think we've ever actually had a proper conversation. Tom." He spoke confidently despite the hammering in his chest, he wondered how no one else could hear it.

"Y/N." You said as you smiled at him. He realised he just needed to get you to relax in order to have a conversation with you.

You made small talk for a while as you slowly came out of your shell, not too much but enough to carry a conversation and Tom felt himself growing more of a need to get to know you.

"So what is it you do?" Tom asked.

"I'm a nurse." You spoke confidently and the answer honestly shocked Tom, he was not expecting that.

"Wow," he couldn't help himself saying. "So how did you meet Charlotte?" He continued the conversation.

"We're neighbours. A few conversations here and there and now we're best friends." You smiled, Tom found himself wanting to ask you every question under the sun, he wanted to get to know everything about you.

The dinner had gone really well but thoughts of you would not leave Tom for the life of him. He wanted you to open up completely to him, he didn't want you to feel shy in any respect when it came to him.

"Something on your mind?" Haz laughed as he waved a hand in front of your face.

"More like someone." Tuwaine laughed as Tom shot him a glare, Tuwaine raising his hands in defence.

"Who? Do tell." Harrison asked.

"No one, Tuwaine's just being a dick." Tom said as he laughed.

"Oi." Tuwaine shouted as he reached across to punch his best friend in the arm. "Less of that." He added and Tom laughed.

Harrison left the room at some point and Tom glared at Tuwaine.

"What?"

"Don't do that!" Tom groaned. "He'd kick my fucking arse." Tom added and Tuwaine looked at him in confusion.

"Why would he do that?"

"Because, she's his sister's best friend." Tom grumbled.

"And?" Tuwaine couldn't see the problem, he doesn't understand why Tom hasn't just asked you out.

"What if it didn't work out? What if things got awkward between us all." Tom said as he ran his hands over his face before pulling on his hair.

"Do you like her?" Tuwaine asked.

"I don't really know her that well." Tom sighed, hoping to get Tuwaine off his back.

"When we were at that dinner it was no one else was there. You hardly spoke to anyone else once she'd shown up. I think you do." He teased.

"T," Tom sighed, "I can't okay? Can we just leave it at that?" Tom grumbled and Tuwaine shrugged his shoulders before carrying on what he was doing.

Tom felt guilty at times he really did but being in your bed, stroking your face as you slept made it all seem worth it. At some point something changed, you ended up spending time together away from everyone else, you opening up to him completely.

"Let me walk you home." Tom said as he spoke to you on your break at work.

"Tom, I'm fine. I live like five minutes away from my house. It seems ridiculous for you to walk here when you'd literally have to walk past my house." You laughed on the other end of the line and his chest filled with warmth, he was happy you'd finally opened up.

"I just wanna make sure you get home safe. I'll drive instead of walk." He offered.

"What would Charlotte think if she saw your car dropping me off?" You teased and Tom felt guilt fill his chest before he pushed it away.

"I'll walk." Tom settled on.

"Such a gentleman."

"Just wanna make sure you're safe." He reiterated. He did but he also wanted to spend time with you.

"I don't get it! You disappear, practically become untraceable for weeks and you show up on my doorstep at half three in the morning." You shouted at him, he'd tried so hard to stay away from you but he couldn't, you were on his mind too much.

"I just wanted to see you. I thought we were friends?" Tom fired back, he was frustrated, not with you but with himself.

"Friends don't just appear on your doorstep at half three in the morning after ignoring you." You snapped back at him, he'd never seen you angry and he wondered if he'd hurt your feelings by staying away.

"That's my problem! I don't want to be your friend!" Tom practically screamed at you. He watched as your face fell and tears welled in your eyes.

"Then why'd you show up? You could've just stayed away. Are you here because you think we're obligated to be friends, because of Haz and Charlotte?" You asked, voice dripping with hurt, tone soft.

"That's not what I'm trying to say." He said as he pulled on his hair.

"Then what the fuck are you trying to say?" You yelled back, hurt tears falling from your beautiful eyes and Tom couldn't stop the next words leaving his lips as he looked at you so vulnerable.

"I'm trying to tell you that I am in love with you!" He shouted at you and you froze, looking at him.

"What?" You asked voice small. He wasn't sure whether or not it's what you wanted too hear.

"I'm in love with you." He didn't try and hide the fact that he'd said it, the whole street had probably heard by now. He was thankful Charlotte was away on holiday. "I'm in love with you and I know it complicates things, complicates everything but I can't help it." He admitted. "I've tried, fuck I've tried to get over it, that's why I stayed away but it just made me miss you more."

He was standing closer to you now, you were yet to make a sound and he feared you'd reject him. He thought you were going to when he saw your face twist in anger.

"How dare you Tom Holland." You said as you pushed his chest. "How dare you make me fall for you and then disappear off the face of the earth like I meant nothing to you."

"Y/N..."

"No Tom, it's not fair! I've been sat here for weeks wondering what I did to upset you. Turns out you stayed away because you feel the same way I do. That is fucking bullshit Tom!" You screamed at him and he swears your neighbours were going to be pissed at you now for waking them up so late.

"I know, I'm sorry. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you." He admitted and he watched your anger wash away as a look of pure hurt took over your features.

"But you still did." You said quietly and Tom took your hands in his, your eyes snapping to his and there was so much emotion between the two of you that he stopped thinking about anyone else. His only thoughts were on you and the fact that you loved him back, his lips met yours in a needy kiss as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you to him, your hands fisting his shirt as you tried to pull him closer to you.

It was desperate, weeks of built up tension being given in one kiss. His hand found your hair as yours continued to fist his shirt. His heart was pounding in his chest, he wanted this, wanted you and that was all he could think about. You both pulled back when you needed air.

"Don't ever do that to me again." You spoke as you rested your head on his chest.

"After that baby, I'm never letting you go again."

That was six months ago. Six months of sneaking around and pretending you weren't in love with one another. Tom was finding it increasingly difficult, he wanted to show you off to the world, he was so in love with you yet he couldn't hold your hand in public or even in the private settings that involved his friends and it was eating away at him.

"Can't sleep?" You pulled him from his thoughts as your eyes flickered open, Tom looked at the clock, it was two thirty in the morning.

"Just had a lot on my mind." He said as he moved stray strands of hair from your face.

"Wanna talk about it?" You asked, concern lacing your tone. He shook his head as he gave you a kiss on the forehead.

"Go back to sleep." He spoke as he littered your face with sweet and ghostlike kisses.

"Hard to do when some creepy stalker is staring at you." You teased and he laughed.

"Maybe if someone," he bumped his nose with his own, "didn't look so pretty all the time, I wouldn't stare." He said.

"Stalker." You laughed teasingly as you turned onto your side. Tom wrapping his arms around you as he kissed your shoulder, eventually finding comfort in your soft snores as he let sleep pull him under.

"Right, what the fuck is going on?" Charlotte suddenly said and Tom snapped his gaze to the woman, confusion on his features.

"What?" He asked as she eyed you both carefully.

"The looks. You look at her like she's the only person here." Charlotte said and you bit your lip as you looked at your lap.

"Nothing." Tom said.

"Actually, I wanna know what's going on as well. You barely ever sleep here anymore, where are you going?" Haz chimed in and Tom felt his palms grow sweaty.

"And you're more bothered about the times I come and go." Charlotte pointed an accusatory finger at you.

"Wait, wait, wait. Are you two fucking?" Haz asked, amused look on his face.

"Would make sense." Charlotte shrugged. Tom looked at you as you looked back at him. You were pleading with him to handle this, pleading with him to say something.

"Kind of." Tom said carefully, hoping to gauge their reactions. He watched you for your reaction and you looked as frightened as he felt about them finding out.

"What do you mean kind of?" Charlotte laughed.

"He means," he was shocked as he heard your voice as you cleared your throat. "He means that yeah we're sleeping together but not just fucking." You admitted and Tom lifted his eyebrows, he wasn't expecting you to take charge on confirming your relationship.

"You mean?" Charlotte asked as her face lit up.

"Yeah." You said as you moved to sit next to Tom, taking his hand in yours as they both watched your interaction.

"I fucking knew it!" Haz screamed. "You owe me a tenner." He gloated and Charlotte huffed.

"I thought she'd have told me." Charlotte defended herself.

"Wait, you're not mad?" Tom asked.

"Mad? Why would we be mad?" Haz asked confusion written all over his features.

"Because she's your sister's best friend." Tom said as if it was obvious.

"And? If she makes you happy I don't care. Plus, it's not our business. You're both adults." Haz said and Tom laughed.

"I however am pissed. You should have told me and then I wouldn't owe him a tenner." Charlotte teased and Tom felt you relax, he followed as he pulled you into his side and kissed the top of your head as Haz fake gagged.

"Now I wish we hadn't have asked, I'm gonna have to watch you all over each other."

"Haz, shut up. It's cute." Charlotte said as she watched Tom place a loving kiss to your temple before capturing your lips, watching as you both became wrapped up in each other. She couldn't help but feel happy for her best friend as she nudged Harrison slightly and gestured for them to leave the room.

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland x you

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thelastdrop · 4 years ago

Text

Festival 3: Past

Blackpink Jisoo x Male Reader

5207 words

Categories: smut

Read on AFF

“… and that is why we would like to continue to aggressively pursue the use of your company’s electronics while we work to build more advanced models. Thank you.”

The words came into your right ear as your translator spoke into a small microphone they were given.

As the older Korean businessman finishes his presentation with a bow, you look over at Mr. Hegstad, the Vice President of your company, and see he’s begun to gather his belongings. You quickly followed his lead and gathered up all the papers that had been handed out during the meeting and tried to organize them quickly so you didn’t get left behind.

“Piglet don’t forget to take your earpiece out and give it back to our translator,” Mr. Hegstad said, “Having to replace those is a pain in the ass.”

“Yes, sir.” you replied.

‘Piglet’ a nickname that had been graciously given to you by Mr. Hegstad. Even though he was only five years older than you he was already VP of your company. Climbing the corporate ladder at such an astounding rate made him the envy of a lot of different corporations, who were seeking young executives they could start grooming to take over as the next CEO of their respective companies.

You took out your earpiece and placed it in the white bin labeled with some Korean characters and the word ‘EARPIECE’ below it in big black bold letters. As you looked up, you saw that Mr. Hegstad was already out the door of the conference room. Quickly shoving the documents inside your bag, you slung it across your body and squeezed your way through the crowd exiting the room.

Mr. Hegstad still had his head facing forward as you finally emerged on the other side of the door, giving you hope that he hadn't noticed your absence by his side yet. Sprinting after him, you brought yourself to a leisurely walk as you got closer.

“Glad you finally caught up Piglet,” he chuckles, “Thought I’d have to leave you behind.”

“Sorry for worrying you, Mr. Hegstad,” you sighed in defeat.

“Aw c'mon now you know I wouldn’t have actually left you alone in a country you don’t know, right? And for the love of god when it’s just you and me call me John,” he said, as he threw his arm over your shoulder. “I’m barely older than you and having you of all people call me Mr. Hegstad makes me feel way older than I am.”

“I’ll try my best,” you answered.

“That’s the spirit!” he exclaimed as he gave your chest a firm slap, “Now pleeeeeeease tell me we’re done for the day.”

You pulled out your phone and checked the detailed schedule Mr. Hegstad’s secretary gave to you before coming to South Korea.

—

When your boss called you into his office in the middle of the workday a few weeks ago you were worried you’d messed something up pretty bad. As he began to tell you of the opportunity you were being offered you weren’t sure if he was serious. You were chosen by the higher ups to accompany the VP of your company on a month long business trip to South Korea to act as his do-it-all man. It had only been six months since you started working here and you didn’t know what to say.

“But, why me? I don’t even speak Korean?” you asked dumbfounded.

“This is a position that’s given out every year.” your boss began, “Every year our company sends one of the executives to South Korea in order to talk about the following years business deals with the multiple companies we work with there.”

While you processed what he was saying to you, you couldn’t tell if this was a dream or not. As you tried to wrap your head around it, living in South Korea for a whole month seemed wild to you. You don’t know the first thing about South Korea: the food, the language, the culture. Just then you're brought back into the moment as your boss continues.

“Now this isn’t an easy job,” he waned in a serious tone, “but it can prove to be a great starting point for your future at the company. Those who do a good job and earn the respect of the executive they travel with swiftly rise the ranks here. Mr. Hegstad was given that opportunity 4 years ago and look at where he is now. It also didn’t hurt that he went with the current CEO of the company.”

“I’ll take it!” you blurted out.

“Oh ho ho, an eager one I see,” he laughed, “well I hope you don’t end up regretting it. People who don’t do a good job end up with a much harder battle when looking for promotions.” He gestured out to an older man in his late 30s early 40s with the same job title as you.

“I-I won’t,” you stuttered out.

Over the next several weeks you would meet with Mr. Hegstad’s secretary and learn as much as you could about him. What he liked to drink after a long day's work, what his favorite snack was, what he liked to do to relax, even which side of the car he prefered to sit on. Anything and everything you could try and memorize you did, you also took sometime to look up some basic things about South Korea so you wouldn’t make a complete fool of yourself when you got there.

The day before you leave you met one last time with his secretary who gave you the itinerary for your trip. Every day laid out with the meetings, lunches, and dinners Mr. Hegstad was going to have while you were there. As you turned away from her desk to leave for the day, she wished you good luck with a smile.

—

“So are we done?” Mr. Hegstad asked again as you approached the elevator doors.

You locked your phone and put it back into your pocket, turning to him you said the three words he wanted to hear more than any other three words right now, “Yes, we’re done.”

He collapsed to his knees and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Oh thank you, thank you sweet merciful god,” he said as he fake wept into your stomach.

“Si-Sir please get up, people are staring,” you said as you pull on the collar of his jacket to no avail. The elevator doors opened, luckily, with no one inside.

“Mr. Hegstad, please the elevator is here.” Once again you were only met with more fake weeping. You reached out and stuck your hand in the elevator to hold the doors open.

“JOHN!” you say loudly causing him to look up at you with puppy dog eyes. You motion toward the elevator, seeing that it had arrived he slowly rose to his feet giving you a pat on the shoulder as he entered the elevator. You rolled your eyes and then bowed to the crowd in an apologetic manner as you followed John onto the elevator.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhh,” John let out a sigh as he stretched his arms upwards, “So what are we doing tonight? This is the first night I've been free since we both got here so why don’t we go and do something fun?”

“I don’t know if I have it in me, s- I mean John.”

A grin spreads across his face as he heard you say his name, “Come on Piglet you spend most of your nights working so hard. Just take one night off and come drinking with me. I promise I won’t drag you to any clubs.”

You let out a long sigh knowing no matter how much you tried you weren’t getting out of this one. Looking at your watch and seeing that it was nearly 7 you knew you had to put your foot down.

“Fine, but only ONE beer then I have to get back to our hotel and get your documents in order for your day tomorrow.”

The doors to the elevator opened and you both began walking toward the entrance of the building where your car was waiting.

“Hey if that’s all I can get outta you Piglet then I’ll take it,” John said with a satisfied look on his face.

After returning to the hotel and getting changed you heard a knock on your door.

“Ohhhhh Piglet your best buddy is here to take you out for some fuuuuuun,” you heard John yelling behind the door to your room.

You opened the door and saw John in a very casual outfit. He was wearing a white shirt with a jean jacket over the top and a necklace with some kind of pendant on it hanging into his chest. That accompanied with the dark jeans he had on, gave you the sense that you were not dressed well enough to be seen with him.

“Heeeeyyyaaaah, what are you wearing?” he hasped with a horrified look on his face. “Nope nope nope you’re not going out like that. How are you going to end up with a girl tonight looking like that?”

“Ending up with a girl tonight?” you said confused as he brushed by you entering your room, “I thought I told you one beer and then I need to come back here and get ready for your day tomorrow.”

He started going through your closet and looking at the clothes you brought on the trip. “Yeah yeah, I know what you said,” he peeked his head out and looked at you, “but you need to learn how to live a little. You’re always so serious and I’m gonna make sure you get to unwind tonight.”

John dove back into your closet making various noises as he looked through your wardrobe. Some in disgust, some in indifference, and very few times in surprise at your choices, which you weren’t able to tell is a good or bad thing. Finally he came out with a handful of clothes and a pair of brown loafers.

He looked at you and then back at the clothes impatiently, “Well hurry up and change! Come on Piglet we’re losing time here!” He shouted at you.

You quickly picked up the clothes and headed into the bathroom. After you changed into your new outfit, you looked at yourself in the mirror. John had picked out a white short sleeve button up that had tiny dark blue dots on it and some dark gray pants. As you walked back out of the bathroom and into the room John gave you a curious look, like he was trying to understand a piece of artwork.

“Ah, I’ve got it,” he said as he rushed over to you. He then rolled your sleeves up until they were just below your shoulders and your pant legs up to show your ankles. He took a step back and looked upon his creation once more. He put all of his fingers to his mouth and gave a chef's kiss.

“Perfect, you’re definitely getting laid tonight,” he said with a wink as he walked beside you and put his arm on your shoulder, spinning you around so you were both linked up as you left your room.

Once you’re out of the hotel you both began walking, John vigilantly looked for a place where you two could have a good night. You passed a lot of places that seemed more than fitting for what you were looking to get out of the night.

“This is the place,” John blurted out, taking a hard left while he grabbed your sleeve and pulled you in with him. As you stepped into the bar, it looked like you stepped into another dimension.

Stepping off from the busy streets of Seoul, you were now in a quiet bar with light music playing. The all wooden interior gave you a very warm and comfortable feeling. The simplistic designs made into the woodwork on the ceiling and walls counteracted the curved support beams that sprang up from the floor and into the ceiling. There were two levels both with similar seating arrangements from what you could tell, a mixture of granite hightops and tables with the same red felt chairs at every location. The last thing that stood out was the long granite bar that stretched along the entire wall on the lower level.

John looked for some kind of staff and started talking to them in Korean.

“They said we can sit wherever we want and someone will come around to get our drink orders,” John relayed to you, “Let’s grab that open table right there.”

As you both sat down at the table you took a look around at the individuals in the bar. It seemed like a younger crowd, all of them around the same ages of you and John. John caught you looking and slapped you on the arm.

“See anyone you like Piglet?”

“Why do you call me that?”

“What? Piglet?” he teased before letting out a chuckle as you nodded back at him. “Well the first time I walked by where you work I saw you had a little Piglet plushie on your desk, and since I’m horrible at remembering new employees names I just called you Piglet and it stuck with me.”

“But can’t you just call me by my first name at this point,” you complained in an annoyed manner, “I mean, you’re making me call you by your first name.”

“No can do Piglet. You are locked in my brain as Piglet now and so shall you forever be called,” Josh said in a medieval-esque voice.

You let out a long sigh as a waitress approached your table. John took over and ordered both of your drinks. You both had small talk about what it had been like here so far, you asked John how about his experiences on this trip when he was where you were, and you both just passed the time having a good chat.

As you tipped your glass back for one final swig of the dark beer that was left in it you are stopped before the liquid can touch your lips. One of the most stunning women you had ever laid your eyes on had just walked into the bar. She had long black hair that fell down past her chest. She was wearing a slightly oversized all white button up with only her 3rd and 4th button being used revealing what looked to be a black crop top that stopped before her skirt began giving you a glimpse of her midriff. A black, dark gray and light gray plaid almost see through skirt was fashioned around her waist.

John seeing you stuck in place followed your line of sight and saw who you were staring at.

“Bingo,” he said as he rose from his seat making his way to where the woman was walking.

“Wait, John, no there’s no way I can talk to her,” you pleaded as you reached for his arm as he walked away, “I don’t even know Korean.”

“Stop worrying so much.” he teased, “It’s going to be a lot more embarrassing if I have to point you out to her than if you make the first move.” John said as he turned and continued walking toward the woman as she took a seat at the bar.

You debated whether you should just leave quickly and head back to the hotel or try and beat John to the woman. After only a couple seconds of deliberation, you quickly sprang out of your chair and rushed past John as you filled the seat next to the Korean woman.

“H-Hi,” you stuttered out. “Hello,” she responds with a Korean accent. Not knowing what to say you just sat there and stared at the beautiful woman in front of you. After a few moments that seemed like an eternity you felt something heavy crash around your shoulder. You looked over to see John standing above you, he gave you a wink before he talked with her in korean

You just sat there and smiled awkwardly while they talked. The only thing that you were able to pick out of the conversation is one word, Piglet. As soon as the word is mentioned you see her look at you and then back to John, she then pointed at you and said something you would think meant “Him?”. She then covered her mouth and began laughing while John did the same. Once the laughter died down and you sat there red in the face, John took his arm off your shoulder and leaned down into your ear.

“I’m leaving. Her name is Jisoo. Good luck Piglet.” he whispered and then rose back up and said goodbye to the two of you. As you watched him exit the bar you heard her sweet voice once more.

“So… Piglet.” she said.

“Well, um, you see he-” but your stammering is cut off by one word.

“Cute” she said with a smile as she looked you in the eyes.

All of the fear and embarrassment you had felt were washed away with one simple word that came out of this angel sitting before you. You felt as if all of the stress from the trip so far had melted away, leaving you in a complete state of relaxation.

“Yeah…,” you said, “cute.”

She nodded in affirmation.

“So… Jisoo, right?”

“Yes,” she answered back with a little bounce.

“Do you speak English a lot?” you asked.

“No… but I… learn for my job,” she said, proud of herself for finishing her sentence. “So we can… speak to make easier.”

“Okay.” you said as an uncontrollable grin wipes across your face causing Jisoo’s face to mimic your own.

For the next hour or longer you both sat together, talking as best you could about anything. You both began to get more comfortable around one another and finally Jisoo put her hand on top of yours and looked deep into your eyes.

“You… me… go to room together?”

“Yes.”

—

As soon as you stepped through the threshold of your hotel room, you were both on top of each other. Jisoo had pushed you back against the door causing it to close with a loud clack. She pushed her soft lips on yours surprising you at first, but you quickly recovered matching her movements. As you moved your hands through her open shirt to her exposed lower back, you pulled her deeper into you as you kissed. The feeling of her lips moving against yours was nothing short of spectacular, but you craved more. You pushed your tongue against her lips, looking for permission to access the warm, wet area behind them. When her lips parted an equally enthusiastic tongue darted out and began massaging your own. Trying to taste as much of her as you could you forced your tongue into her mouth. After several minutes of this back and forth, you pulled away gasping for air. A single string of saliva kept you two connected.

Your hands swiftly came around and worked at the two buttons holding her loose shirt in place as you began to walk her out of the short entrance hallway and into your room. She then began frantically doing the same to you shirt trying to be careful while walking backwards. As you finished her second button you pushed her shirt down over her shoulders trapping her arms against her body. She strained against your hold wanting to continue her objective and remove your shirt, only making it about half way down before you took control. You stood there at the precipice of your room using all your strength to hold her arms at her sides while trying not to rip the thin shirt.

Staring into her eyes you could see only one thing in them, lust. Pure lust. A wanting for you, a needing for you to do whatever you wanted to her. She was totally and completely yours for however long you would have her. You dove back into her capturing her lips once more, releasing the hold you had on her arms in the process. She moved quickly, taking her wrinkled shirt off and throwing it across the room as it left her body. Once again your slow march toward the bed began as your tongues battled for dominance. Your attention turned to your own shirt undoing the remaining button’s Jisoo failed to reach. Jisoo suddenly broke the kiss as she fell backwards onto your bed, her limbs sprawled out across its surface. The picture of this gorgeous Korean woman laid out across your white sheets looked like something the gods had intended to make a reality the moment she was born.

You slowly began to crawl over the top of her body, moving your face closer and closer to her own until your lips were inches apart. Jisoo lunged forward taking your lips once again and throwing her arms around your back, lightly digging her nails into it. This embrace was short lived as you began to trail kisses down her neck to her shoulder. With one hand you grabbed the small black crop top that was the only thing between you and her breasts. Jisoo moved to help you arching her back off the bed giving you the access you required. Leaning back, you grabbed the shirt and pulled it over her head as she stretched her arms upwards along the bed.

With her back still arched you moved down and took her erect nipple into your mouth, eliciting a moan out of the woman beneath you. Swirling your tongue around it in circles you massaged it, as you moved your other hand up her body capturing the ample tit in your palm. You began working it, squeezing it trying to earn more moans and gasps out of Jisoo. Pinching her left nipple between your fingers and biting down on her earned a deep moan from her. Liking what you heard you switched positions and repeated the process.

Feeling satisfied with the work you had done you once again began training kisses down her tight stomach. Inching closer to the waist line of her skirt you reached and seized it with your hands and began pulling it down giving you even more skin to worship. The trail of kissing continued down her stomach stopping at her navel giving it a kiss, earning a small giggle out of Jisoo. Your fingers gripped her panties signaling you to bring yourself up. As you brought yourself up onto one knee on the edge of the bed Jisoo closed her legs together allowing you to remove her two remaining articles of clothing.

As they slid off you got a good view of just how thick and meaty her thighs actually were. Staring at them as they parted giving you a clear view of her clean shaven slit caused your dick to strain against its pants. You put your hands under those thick thighs and lifted her up off the bed and pushed her further back so you could lie down as you approached her wet lips. Without warning you dove deep into her wet cavern, your tongue exploring as far as it could go. Her hands instantaneously started running through your hair trying to grasp as much of it as she could letting out a pleasured moan.

“Feels… so good…” Jisoo moaned.

Your assault continues as Jisoo tries to pull you deeper into her, waking to feel herself more full. As you hear her breathing start becoming labored you latch onto her clit and suck on it harshly. Jisoo’s thighs clamp around your head as she curls up into a ball and rolls on her side.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” she chanted before she rolled back to her previous position and went rigid.

Jisoo’s sweet honey leaked out of her and coated your chin. You hungrily began to lap up as much of the liquid as you could. As you lifted your face from between her legs you watched as Jisoo’s chest rose and fell in rhythm with her breathing. She extended her arms outwards towards you.

“Come here,” she gasped between breaths.

She embraced you with another sloppy kiss as she tried to lick up her juice that covered your face. As you move up, your erect cock, still trapped in your pants, rubbed up against Jisoo’s crotch. A hum escaped her lips and she pushed her hips against yours. You broke the kiss and matched her moan with a much lower one of your own as you started humping into her, soaking the outside of your pants.

You looked down her body and watched as her abs flexed and relaxed with each movement of her hips, sending even more blood to your throbbing member. Jisoo grabbed your chin and made you lock eyes.

“Want inside.”

“Me too,” you responded to her breathlessly.

Immediately you rose to your feet and pulled your pants and briefs off and tossed them to the side. At the sight of you dick standing proud before her Jisoo bit down on her index finger. You lined your cock up above her slit and slowly pushed it inside making the two of you groan and moan in unison. You were able to slide it with relative ease but her tightness around your cock made the pleasure rise to an entirely different level.

Her walls clamped around your shaft, gripping it tightly as you settled into the sensations that were flowing through you. Grabbing handfuls of her thighs you pushed deeper feeling that same incredible tightness as it engulfed your whole dick.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” you growled.

“Y-you are so big. Do not stop.” Jisoo moaned.

You drew your hips back and pushed them forward and a slow and steady pace, wanting Jisoo to get used to your size. She began moaning at your motions moving her body to match your movements.

“Harder,” she let out breathlessly as you looked at her.

You upped your pace and chased after the satisfaction that you both craved. Jisoo’s moans grew much louder as your dick continuously hit her g-spot. It wasn’t long before her legs started shaking from the intense pleasure she was feeling.

Liking the reaction you were getting you increased your pace again, pistoning your dick in and out of her wet pussy. Her warm walls contracted against you as you mercilessly pounded this woman into the bed. You leaned down placing your arms on the side of her head and captured her lips. She continued moaning into your mouth, but you felt safer knowing you that no one would come in and interrupt what you two were doing.

Jisoo moved her arms under yours and dug her nails into your back. Wincing at the pain, but loving the feeling you did not stop thrusting in and out of her cunt. Her legs snaked around you, keeping you in place and not allowing you to leave.

“Please… do not stop,” Jisoo whispered out to you between her moans.

Feeling her reaching another climax you reached your hand down and found her clit. Almost as soon as you put pressure on it Jisoo’s eyes rolled back into her head. More and more liquids seeped out of her as you slowed your strokes as she began coming down. Both of you breathing heavily for a couple of seconds trying to regain yourselves.

As Jisoo looked at you a very satisfied smile came across her face, causing you to do the same.

“We… switch?” she asked between her breaths still smiling at you.

As if on cue you flipped your positions, Jisoo now sitting on top of your groin, your dick still completely inside her. Without a moment of hesitation Jisoo placed her hands on your chest and began riding you almost animalistically. She knew what she wanted and how to get it and chased after it as hard as she possibly could.

“Holy shit Jisoo,” you groaned as your dick was experiencing what felt like an undiscovered pleasure.

All you could manage was to move your hands to her hips as she rode you violently. After a few minutes of this she finally began slowing down. Upon seeing this opening you planted your feet firmly into the mattress and fucked up into her.

“Oooh my GOD!” Jisoo yelled as she bounced on top of your relentless thrusts.

Watching her ample boobs bounce in front of you was something too enticing to ignore. You reached your hands up and grabbed them both roughly not slowing your thrusts down for a second. Another loud moan escaped Jisoo as she felt pleasure coming from multiple places on her body. The loud slaps of your groin meeting her thighs and plump ass filled the room.

You could sense that your end was quickly approaching and returned your hands to Jisoo’s hips. Sensing what was coming as your cock grew even bigger inside her, she leaned down to you and captured your lips. Wordlessly you knew what she wanted. You lasted only a few more thrust before you unloaded deep inside her. Thick ropes coated her walls as you threw her arms around her pulling her in for a deeper kiss.

This was not like the rest of the kisses you had experienced throughout the night. This was a deep and sensual kiss that had no tongue, or movement, just two pairs of lips firmly on one another. As you felt yourself soften and fall out Jisoo, she finally pulled away from you.

“That was amazing,” she said in almost perfect English.

“You were amazing.”

Jisoo smiled at you and gave you a quick peck on the lips before rolling out of bed and walking toward your bathroom.

“We clean now?” she asked you.

You quickly jumped out of bed and picked her up, making her smile and laugh, as you carried her into the bathroom.

—

You woke up the next morning to knocking on your door. You sat up quickly and looked at the watch on your nightstand. 7:41 it read. You jumped out of bed quickly and threw on some pants rushing to the door. As you undid the locks and opened it John stood before you dressed and ready for the day.

“Forget to set an alarm there Piglet,” he said looking you up and down.

“Well, uh,” was all you could let out before John looked deeper into your room and saw another figure laying on your bed still sleeping.

He chuckled to himself as he looked back at you, “Take the day off Piglet. We start again bright and early tomorrow,” he said with what you could only assume was a happy look on his face.

A/N Hope you guys liked this! After I saw Jisoo post this picture on insta I felt like I had to write something for her. This chapter is one that I feel most proud of for sure and I hope you all enjoy reading it. Like always leave a comment below with any feedback.

#blackpink smut #jisoo smut #male reader #reader insert #jisoo #blackpink #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction

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my-darling-boy · 4 years ago

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hello alastair! wondering if you can give some advice... I am fairly certain I am not cis female, but the dream career I am working towards is *very* concerned with physical appearance and unfortunately many of the people in this field are extremely conservative. I have come so far in pursuing my dreams—I honestly am shocked that I’ve been as successful as I have—but I am afraid that if I come out all of that will crumble. I am also not sure if I actually feel transmasc or if I am just nonbinary & tired of sexual harassment. I would love to hear how you knew you were transmasc as well any advice you might give for whether or not it’s a good idea to come out. thank you so much ♥️

First of all, I’m sorry you’ve been put into that kind of difficult position :(

Explaining how I knew I was a trans man is kind of difficult? Since gender and the way we figure ourselves out is a very socially oriented thing, I lack perception there since I’m autistic. For a long time, I never understood society had attached genders to clothing, toys, music, or hobbies. I didn’t even understand society had attached certain body parts and pronouns to genders! As a young kid, I simply just felt like a Person, no matter what pronouns I was called as a child. All I knew was that every time I saw what society referred to as boys, I’d think “OH that’s me! This is a direct reflection of myself!” Without words, I was always identifying with men before I...technically even knew what men were? From an early age, though I was friends with cis girls, I had mostly cis male friends because I knew I was them, not like them. But I didn’t understand why I couldn’t use the same bathroom as them or stay over at their houses. I thought, “But wait, I’m one of them... why aren’t they seeing me as exactly one of them? What’s different about me?” And tbh it wasn’t until I was about 8 when I started figuring out what genders were and that I wasn’t being perceived as a boy, and you can imagine my shock :’) I’ve only ever really known myself as a man, I didn’t suffer from dysphoria because I just didn’t think certain body parts on me were recalling my birth gender, so there wasn’t any discomfort to feel; my body parts were on me, and I’m a man so... they’re male body parts? Dysphoria isn’t compatible with the way I’ve always seen myself, and neither are a lot of the social reference points I see present in other trans people using like “gender envy” for instance. I don’t think the language available to me to describe how I knew does me any justice. It’s not that I’ve “always known” since I popped out, but at the same time, I didn’t feel I “figured it out” in the traditional sense. My male identity has always felt innate to me, for even when I had no word for it initially, the feeling was always present. I find it’s the same way you don’t have to know what lungs are to feel yourself breathe, your body just knows.

So, I guess an important part of figuring out your gender if you feel on the fence: sometimes we get so wrapped up in our outward presentation, what others think of us, social obligations, gender roles, etc, that we forget we need to look inwards too. I was lucky and was able to develop in my own little bubble which social constructs were not able to get through to sway me as a child, and because of all that introspection, unaware if the way I was presenting was “right or wrong” or “masculine or feminine” I was simply allowed to be and listen to myself.

I know I’m in no position to tell you if you should come out, cos it’s not my place. But if it’s any help or something to think about, I could share a little story?

I’m not out in my large workspace as trans, maybe only a couple people vaguely know I’m gay, no one knows I’m ace, only one person knows I’m autistic. Everyone just thinks I’m a cis man. Sometimes I think what would happen if I wore a trans flag on my shirt or an autistic infinity rainbow on my mask or a gay flag pin. Of course I think of the customers seeing me, the ones who will make comments and laugh under their breaths or call me slurs or insult me directly. And it makes me not want to wear those things sometimes, no matter how proud of myself I might feel. But then one day, a kid came into the store—and I live in a conservative area—with their parent and their sibling, and the kid had a large non-binary flag draped over their shoulders like a blanket. And I just sort of stood there for a minute. In a county even I feel afraid to reveal myself in sometimes, this kid was wearing their identity not just on their sleeve, but like a super hero cape for everyone to see. And even though I’m not non-binary, I felt seen. I thought, what if someone closeted saw my pride flag pins, or someone saw my infinity rainbow, or a trans coworker who was feeling just as alone was able to know I was trans too...maybe I could help others feel seen and learn to be even more comfortable in my own skin, maybe build up more resilience to awful people?

I guess if feel like if I come out in some situations, even when I could be wronged or laughed at, it will guide me towards the people and opportunities that are right for me and root out the bad ones so eventually I won’t have to live hiding around the clock. And maybe best of all, I can help someone else feel not so alone in a place that makes us feel like we are. If I ever found myself in a place in my life where many people looked up to me or were inspired by me, do I want them to think I’m just some cishet neurotypical guy... or do I want people who feel underrepresented to feel like they have representation and show myself I can be true to myself and accomplish what I do as I am, even when there are thousands of eyes on me? Again, definitely no one should feel obligated to come out or do any of this, cos some places are Really Awful, but it’s just something I think about in my own personal situation. Hope some of this could help??

#sorry for the rambling :’)#asks #trans

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defdaily · 4 years ago

Text

THE STAR Magazine April 2021 Issue featuring JAY B

Translated by defdaily.

GOT7’s eternally sincere leader JAY B. A friendly interview where you can feel his warm-heartedness.

*This interview was done in informal language to give off the feeling of two friends chatting*

It has been a while since we last met for GOT7’s feature in 2017.

Right, hi. I’m JAY B. Nice to meet you. Have you eaten?

JAY B has been chosen to be on the cover of THE STAR’s 8th anniversary issue.

Dobby is free now. (Laughs). I’m a freelancer now but I still can’t believe the fact that I was chosen to be on the cover of THE STAR’s anniversary issue. I’m so thankful to THE STAR for choosing me to be on the cover so I worked extra hard during the shoot.

How are you doing these days? We’re curious to know what you have been up to.

A freelancer’s daily life is always similar. I work when there is work and rest when there isn’t. I was busy recently organising this and that to release GOT7’s digital single ENCORE. I took the lead and there were many things I needed to figure out such as paperwork. So I was very proud. The members have all joined agencies but I want to take a little more time and think about it carefully before choosing. I’m still a freelancer.

Does the freelancing life suit you?

I don’t know if it suits me but it’s fun. Now work-related calls come to me directly, so I would be asleep then receive a call. I’d go “Ah I fell asleep for a moment, sorry. What is this about?” (Laughs). Since I do even these kinds of small communications myself, it’s nice and fascinating to realise the value of work and opportunities. If I didn’t have this time and experience, I think I might have not realised the value of work as much. I used to be on edge at times when the managers used to tell me things in the past. But now that I’ve learnt how much processing has been done before the information reached me, I feel sorry. Now I have a heart full of gratitude for opportunities.

I don’t know if it’s because you’re a freelancer now, but you seem much brighter than before.

Dobby is free now. (Laughs) I’m joking. Of course it was very helpful having a company. But now that I do everything myself, I feel more satisfied. I enjoy it.

The GOT7 members have all started solo activities. It must not have been easy for everyone, how did you come to your decision?

Right. It definitely was not easy. The seven of us researched a lot so that we can continue as GOT7 together. But then we thought that we should broaden our view so each of us could end up in a better situation. In the process, what we each wanted changed a little and, there is a future that each person dreams of right? The company said we did everything we could do on our part and that they will cheer us on in the future, that made me feel proud. We are also very thankful to the company. I felt that we received a lot of protection under a large umbrella. After all, the company is like the mother that gave birth to GOT7, so I’m thankful to them and respect them. I also thought a lot and looked into a lot of things about how to continue as GOT7. I also went to the president and asked him for advice, and I greeted and thanked Jinyoungie hyung for everything.

While preparing for new activities, what was the thing most discussed amongst the members?

“So what is it that you want to do?” “So what do you want to do?” We asked that a lot. So everyone said “We have to do it" So I asked again “No, not 'I have to', but do you want to do this? Or do you not want to do this?” If you are going to do something, you should do it properly, right? If you are not going to do something with an active attitude, I think it’s better to not do it. So we all came together and decided to give it a try.

It’s clear that you are GOT7’s leader.

One advice the company president told me was that my talent and effort as a leader starts now. Personally handling matters related to our recent digital single, I felt this “Taking the lead as a leader, I need to really work hard.” There was a lot of pressure, but if I don’t do it, who would. It pushed me to work hard.

You mentioned very clearly in your social media livestream that “GOT7 did not disband.” I felt your affection towards the team, what does GOT7 mean to JAY B?

One extremely important thing in my life. Actually, it’s an indispensable part. I’m thankful for the fact that our team exists. You have to know that because GOT7 existed, we individually exist too. It wouldn't matter if my beginning was as a solo, but my beginning was as GOT7. That's what made me who I am now.

How is Lim Jaebeom different as JAY B within GOT7, JJ Project, Jus2 and ØFFSHORE?

Comprehensively they’re all sides of me but if I have to split them, they would be a novel vibe versus an essay vibe. ØFFSHORE and Def. are all about music I like, regardless of genres, and honest stories I want to tell. As for GOT7, JJ Project and Jus2, we would have a particular concept and make it a bit more fancy.

Most of the songs you have shown on SoundCloud are R&B genres with a groovy feel. Have you ever had a conflict between music you want to do and music you have to do?

I felt that I needed to work harder to prove [myself] to do what I wanted to do. I can’t always be spoon-fed. To prove [myself] I made more GOT7 tracks and sent around 15~20 demos. Later on Jinyoung hyung and the president acknowledged me and said “Jaebeom will take care of the musical aspect. You can trust him with that.” I felt really proud hearing that. I don’t really feel a sense of conflict between the musical differences. From pop and R&B to folk and modern rock, I don't want to draw lines between genres and make music that sounds good.

We are curious about the music JAY B will show alone and what you’ll pursue. What stories do you want to tell?

I want to do a variety of things. Alone, I think I will try mixing genres and do things that are fun and experimental. I can also do R&B pop or Urban genres which I’ve originally liked. But that might change later on.

Is there an artist you’d like to collaborate with in the future?

Someone with a pleasant tone to listen to. Even now, when I listen to music and I like the artist’s tone, I send them a DM asking if they’d like to collaborate. And Korea's top hip hop artist, IU-nim. Do you think it's possible? (Laughs).

Then would you like to send a message to IU?

Suddenly? Um… I will work very hard. If by chance you think my song is alright, I would love for you to add your nice voice to them. (Laughs)

An appearance that may seem cold with a tsundere charm. But what do you think your real personality is like?

I’m the type that is quiet and calm, but people close to me tell me I’m a weird person. When I cry reading a book or watching a movie, or when I get emotional they say “It’s so weird, it doesn’t suit you.”

Are you the tender type?

I think I just often get hit by waves of emotions.

We’re curious about the lifestyle you seek and your values.

To live each day without any regrets.

Is there a place you’d like to visit after COVID-19 ends?

Kyoto, Japan. It’s a place where there is a lot of Japanese heritage and it’s also pretty.

Recently you have combined your two Instagram accounts @jaybnow.hr and @def.cnvs, what was the reason?

I’m the one doing everything after all, it is just the musical name that was different. I can’t split my body into two. I realised I could combine them into one account and just show the difference within it. And as I get older, it’s hard to manage two accounts. (Laughs). Was I too honest? Now I'm confused about what's what.

Was there any other moment that made you feel old?

I don’t do much and my whole body aches. In the past, my body wouldn’t get affected by the weather. Now when the weather is gloomy my back hurts and my knees go numb. (Laughs).

I can see that you’re interested in artistic aspects such as photography, painting and fashion etc. Do these things influence your music?

Of course. They affect the way you live in itself. I’m a person who wants to express and leave behind what I feel. Calling myself an artist feels somehow cocky.

What are you interested in recently?

It’s not art but I’m interested in moving around. Living as a freelancer, I spent more time lying down at home, but now I need a fast-paced daily life. I try to wake up in the morning to eat breakfast and nutritional supplements then go outside to photosynthesize and soak in the world. Everyone has to keep moving. (Laughs).

Are you interested in fashion and lifestyle curation and design etc?

I don’t think I’m a person who dresses up exceptionally well, but if someone asks I’d be willing to help.

What would you introduce as JAY B’s preference?

Freedom. Regarding fashion too, I liked vintage and grunge styles but recently I’m interested in work look and amecage styles. My preference keeps changing. I can't define myself clearly either, but I like the sense of being free.

What inspires you?

Many situations and people, my experiences as well as indirect experiences.

How do you have an indirect experience?

Watching movies and reading books. Nowadays I read song lyrics and unfold the scenes in my head. I try to think of various points of view in these one-act plays.

To JAY B, love is?

Nonexistent. A moment. I don’t know. As you live life, I think falling in love is a momentary emotion. If it lasts long, I think it’s affection not love. I'm a person who has to talk about love, but sometimes I wonder if it’s okay to feel this way. There are also many different forms of love. The love that my parents give me and the love that my fans send me. I’m thankful for everything.

While promoting for 10 years, what was the happiest moment and most lacking point?

I feel like every moment until now has been somehow lacking. Whenever you look back you end up thinking “I should’ve done better back then.” I think everyone feels that way. But I never regret those times I’ve spent. The happiest instance was when I spotted my parents at a fanmeeting and ran to them and held them while singing. It felt like I was boasting to my fans “These people are my father and mother,” and it also felt like I was showing my parents how I was receiving that many fans’ love and support. I'm thankful that the fans looked at my family happily at that moment.

Have you ever had a slump?

I don't think about something if I think I'm going to fall into something serious, but I'm the type who gets stressed out to do something new.

You are loved not only in Korea but also abroad, have you ever thought about why your fans like you so much?

A lot. I just don't understand. I'm not even popular among my friends... Why on earth?

Think of at least one thing.

Maybe it’s because I worked hard steadily? To be honest, during the past 10 years I have never not tried my best on stage. I can say this with confidence. I’m thankful to be able to do what I like as a job. I have told the members about this previously, I’m sorry for not being affectionate to fans onstage. It’s my nature so I can’t help it. But I have never been indifferent as a singer onstage, that is a fact.

Your bucket list that you surely want to achieve this year?

Being healthy mentally and physically. Since the members have started their solo activities this year, I think I should release an album as well.

Any words for the readers?

Everyone, I’m not saying this as a formal greeting but I really want to say thank you. Hmm… How should I put this? Don’t worry since we are not disbanding. That’s why I tried hard to release the digital single. Continuing on I’m going to try my best to do as much as I can. You might feel disappointed at times along the way, and I apologize in advance for that. But what I can promise is that I’m going to do my best. Thank you so much for supporting me for 10 years. You all know this already, but I’m not so good at things like sending hearts and saying thanks affectionately. I just want to speak sincerely. Thank you so much. I hope everyone will be more happy, not just because you like and support us… I could sound arrogant saying it like this but... I hope our fans are sturdy people who will find their own small sources of happiness in their daily lives even if that isn’t us. And I hope everyone is happy. I’m so thankful and I want to ask you to trust me.

Lastly let us know your future plans.

We will try our best to match our times and do GOT7, JJ Project and Jus2 etc. no matter what. Even if our times don’t match somehow, we’ll try our best to gather even 4 or 5 people and return, so don’t worry. And Dobby is free now. (Laughs). I will do my best in everything. I've made a lot of songs and I'm diligently working on songs right now too, so look forward to it. You’ll be able to listen to it soon. Thank you. This has been GOT7 JAY B. Please give lots of love to The Star’s April issue!

Translated by defdaily.

#jay b #jb #jaebeom #def #defsoul #got7 #got7 jb #got7 jaebeom

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butwhyduh · 4 years ago

Text

Falling for Him

I tried to not make a whole damn fic. I failed absolutely miserably from the start. I’ve never gone skiing so the resort is based on the nicest resort I’ve ever stayed (ironically on the beach) with more added to it because fantasy.

Warning: a little bit of fluffy smut

Sun glistened on the icy slopes. The frigid air was tempered by warm gloves and hot tea. You face was freezing but you ignored it. It was the 3rd day of your mini vacation that Bruce had all but demanded Tim take.

Tim was so beautiful. His nose and cheeks were bright red but his smile was infectious. He looked down at you through his long dark lashes. He pulled his beanie down lower over his head with his hair slipping out beneath it and wrapped his arm around your waist. Tim shivered a little before kissing the top of your head.

The smell of hot food was enticing. You looked around at the tiny shops that lined the cobblestone street. People were lazily shopping and walking around in the delicate light snow.

“Want to get something to eat, sunshine?” Tim asked with a happy sigh. “We’ve been walking all day. You’ve got to be getting cold.”

“Just a little, Duckie. Where do you want to go?” You asked. He pretended to mull about the choices when you damn well knew he had planned every meal for the whole trip. He planned too much but you weren’t complaining.

“There’s this little place that does French style..” Tim started talking as he pulled you along the street. He kept talking about the amazing food that was at the restaurant. You tried to listen but was distracted by how handsome he looked.

Tim wore a cream colored undershirt, maroon Henley thermal, and a navy puffer vest. He held his coat in his arm. He was much more used to cold temperature from being outside in Gotham all the time. He had a carefree look that you rarely got a glimpse of.

The place was nice. Concrete floor with red brick walls contrasted with the rich piano playing and classic French cuisine. It was far nicer a place than either of you were dressed for but you paid no mind. You were busy falling for Tim.

He was right about the place. The food was spectacular, even though you couldn’t pronounce anything. It didn’t matter. Tim spoke French quite fluently. A well bred young man from Gotham elite was expected to speak at one other language. Tim spoke 3 fluently for work. There was hundreds of things he knew that blew your mind. Facts, dates, numbers. He was so smart. Sometimes he’d get a look on his face on concentration before saying something so brilliant you couldn’t imagine.

“Do you like it? You look... distracted.” He asked, looking at you from across the table. He had a nervousness to his voice like he always did when he questioned his decisions. He ran his thumb across his fingers nervously. Maybe this place was too stuffy and fancy. Not everyone was used to it. Maybe it was too serious?

“It’s amazing. I was just thinking about your big brain,” you admitted, reaching over to hold his hand. He had a uncomfortably pleased smile as he wasn’t expecting the compliment.

“Oh, what do you mean?” Ever the detective.

“You planned the whole trip and speak French and can ski,” you said. “It’s hard to keep up with all you know.”

He scratched the back of his neck with an awkward look. “That’s more privilege that intelligence,” he said finally.

“You know what I mean. I just like how smart you are,” you said. You pulled your hand away as a dessert was served. A Clafoutis with black cherries in a custard and dusted in sugar. A single plate with 2 spoons.

Tim scooped some on a spoon and offered it to you across the table. You flushed a little. It was kind of ridiculous in a restaurant and you’ve never been fed like that. You leaned over and took the bite only to quickly cover your mouth and breathe quickly.

“It’s so hot,” you said doing the hot food mouth move. You hoped your hand covered your mouth as you were basically breathing with your mouth gaping with food in a fancy restaurant.

“Sorry! I didn’t burn you, did I?” Tim asked, bright red.

“No, I’m fine,” you said finally swallowing. “Actually that’s really good. You should try it.”

He took a tentative bite after letting it cool. It was delicious with a bright cherry covered in delicate vanilla almond flavor. You both ate it, on your own spoons, until there was no more.

After dinner you walked back to the car slowly, wandering the streets a little more in the dying light. Tim watched you as you looked in the open shops that lined that street. He couldn’t help but love the way your eyes lit up when looking at something new. The way you had jumped right in to the trip.

Tim had had a rough couple of years. His father died, Bruce ‘died’, he lost his job as Robin when his brother gave it away to the one kid that was literally trying to kill him. Tim had felt so alone, abandoned. Which didn’t help with his whole raised-by-nanny-as-his-parents-traveled-the-world childhood.

You were his one constant. He’d met you when he was at a pretty low point, and Tim knew that depending on one person for all of your happiness was a quick way to be disappointed. But he couldn’t help but depend on you so much.

The light caught his eye and he looked as a woman put a necklace around your neck. It was pretty. But the look on your face showed that you loved it and Tim wanted you to have it.

There was a delicate balance with you. Tim didn’t care a single bit if you spent all the money you wanted. You couldn’t shop him broke and if it made you happy, he was happy. But you were wary of spending his money. And Tim never wanted you to feel bought.

“That looks nice,” he said looking at the necklace critically. He touched the delicate metal. “Gold?”

“Yes sir,” said the woman. She explained how expensive and delicate the necklace really was. He asked a few more questions. She watched nervously as Tim looked at the gems and clasp before making a decision. You had a little smile at his intense concentration.

“Do you want it,” Tim finally asked you. You nodded shyly. “We’ll take it,” Tim said handing a credit card without looking at the woman. His eyes were on you in the necklace. She gave him back his card and you were on your way.

You held his arm close to your body and Tim had long since put his coat back on. It was truly cold now. “Thank you, Duckie,” you said in his ear with a pleased smile before kissing his cheek. That was all he needed to have a small upturn of his lips for the rest of the evening.

“You’re welcome, sunshine. Let’s get back to the room. It’s gotten a lot colder so I know you’re freezing,” Tim said, once again pulling you along. You were happy to let him take charge in most things. That was part of his job as the CEO of Wayne Enterprise and as Red Robin. He had a hard time giving up control sometimes. He was working on it.

Tim kept his hand in yours and touching your thighs as he drove the car. The car. A silver Ferrari FF. The car moved like a dream on the icy roads with heated seats and the entire inner had the softest leather you’d ever felt. Tim had let you pick the rental at the luxury dealer. You were still too scared to drive it, $200,000 car! But being in the passenger seat was still pretty damn nice.

The resort was also beautiful beyond what you could imagine. It was one of those places where Tim’s wealth was only a little noteworthy. Tim couldn’t escape it. He’s the only surviving Drake and an heir to Bruce Wayne. Not to mention his various business pursues that were generally quite successful.

The hotel lobby was huge with twin fireplaces flanking a massive ornamental rug. A water feature was on the back wall behind the register that you both walked past to the elevators. Glass with gleaming silver, the elevator took you to the top floor.

The room was more like an apartment with a view of the mountains to kill for, huge wooden beams, a personal fireplace, and a small full kitchen. The bed was massive and there was both a stone shower and deep tub. It felt like giant cozy cabin.

Tim kissed your cheek and sat down your purchases on the bed. He went to the bathroom and turned on the bath. You gave him a slightly confused look. He was generally a shower kind of guy.

“We need to get you warmed up,” Tim said. He started pulling off his winter gear and tossed them in the hamper. “Wanna join me?”

“Of course, Timmy,” you said with a little smile. He was usually way too busy to do anything like this. You started taking your clothing off and joined him in the bathroom. Tim pulled you close.

He was almost overwhelming. You couldn’t think of anything else when you were with him. His fingers on your back, helping to pull your bra off, trailed hot on your skin. You could only stare into his ocean eyes.

Tim could barely handle the way you would look at him, like he was the world. He never felt like it was deserved but he couldn’t help but bask in your love and attention. He could only hope to deserve you by the way he treated you.

“Tim,” you breathed as he helped you into the tub with him. He sat with his back against the wall of the tub and you sat between his legs with your back leaned against his chest. The warm water had Tim’s skin pink and your flushed. It was so nice to finally be warm. Tim reached over to the stone windowsill next to the tub and lit the candle that sat waiting. Soft vanilla began to fill the room.

Tim slowly ran the warm water on your shoulders and neck leaving little goosebumps on your flesh. You leaned your head back against him, exposing your neck. Water droplets dances along your skin before being replaced with Tim’s lips.

He gently kissed your neck and up to your ear. You sighed and held onto his head with your hand. Tim reached his hand down in the water to touch between your legs. You moaned softly. His fingers dipped down to finger you properly. Your soft pants were the only sound in the room. After a few minutes you couldn’t handle it anymore and you turned in his arms to straddle Tim’s hips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said looking at you with only your new necklace on. You grinned shyly. Tim’s face held no lie and it was almost too much to look at. You kissed his jaw as you sunk on his cock. His face moved up to capture your lips.

The water of the tub sloshed and bounced as you moved. Tim’s hands moved across your body as if he was trying to memorize your skin. In some ways, he was. Tim had had flings and even a few relationships before you. But they were all part of his vigilante life. You weren’t part of it. You were sweet, pure, in his eyes. You lived, and you loved, and you made Tim so fucking happy. He was lost in you. Completely lost in the sauce.

Tim watched as your mouth fell open and your eyes closed. You moaned and whimpered. He was lost in your face as you came, whining as you clenched around him. Tim groaned before finding his own release. He held your back tightly. You leaned your forehead against his. His hair had fallen in front of his eyes and he had his eyes closed.

“Baby,” Tim whispered, hugging you tightly. Possessively. Protectively. You laid your head in the crook of his neck. You laid on him until the water cooled.

You barely dried off before climbing into the bed. You both laid facing each other and you buried your head into his chest, wrapping your leg around his. Tim wrapped his arms around you and fell asleep way earlier than he had in many years.

The next morning you woke up and was surprised that Tim was still there. He usually was always gone in the morning. He wasn’t the kind to leave a cold bed but rather someone who was practically married to the job. So you took it as a gift to be able to watch him sleep.

You could see little freckles on his nose and a scar along his chin. The little pout of his bottom lip in sleep had you smiling. The circles under his eyes were slowly disappearing the longer you spent on vacation. The way his floppy hair fell in his face was one of your favorite things to see, especially in the morning. He wasn’t Red Robin. He wasn’t a CEO. He was just Tim.

You moved a piece of hair from around his eyes and he wiggled in his sleep. You ran your fingers through his hair again. This time Tim hummed before opening his eyes.

“Morning Duckie,” you said. Tim pulled a little smile on his face before answering. He had found the nickname absolutely ridiculous but he actually kind of loved the way you said it. Only when no one was around. The thought of Dick, or heaven forbid Jason or Damian, hearing you say that was horrifying. The amount of blackmail material...

“Sunshine, what time is it?” Tim said frowning. He reached over you to grab his watch. “Shit!” He said jumping out of bed. You watched him dig through the dresser for clothing. Tim quickly threw on a suit in record time.

“Timmy, hold on,” you said standing before him. You ran your fingers through his hair and straightened his tie. He pulled you close by the waist and kissed you. Your nude frame seemed to pull him back in bed. Back to your body.

“I’ve got to go. I love you,” he said quickly grabbing his stuff. A meeting in an hour? He felt deeply unprepared. He had enjoyed himself too much. Got lost in you. He raced down to the conference room he had rented.

You slipped on Tim’s shirt from the night before. You looked at the room service menu before calling in an order for something absolutely indulgent. You were going to spend the day lazily exploring the resort before meeting back up with Tim in the evening for business drinks.

——————————

In the late afternoon you met Tim back at the room where you changed into a fancy cocktail party dress. He had changed into a different suit. It was all grey, perfectly fitted, with a salmon tie. His hair was lightly gelled to stay out of his eyes and Tim was chewing a breah mint.

“Is this alright?” You asked. You’d done a little schmoozing but never in a foreign country with international business. You felt a little bit out of water.

“Lovely, as always,” Tim said. “You look nervous. Don’t worry. I’ll steer conversation but just be polite, laugh, ask about their interests.”

“Sounds like date,” you said dryly. Tim adjusted your necklace so it laid straighter.

“Basically, sure. But a business date. If you hate it, you can always say you have a headache and go upstairs,” he suggested. But you knew that Tim really wanted you there. He felt more confident and it made him look a little older and more stable with a long term girlfriend by his side.

“I’ll be fine. Just don’t leave me with anyone,” you said. Tim grabbed your hand and gave you a little smile.

“Never,” he said hoping he was right.

Fancy cocktails and small bites of food circulated the room. Men in business suits and women in, frankly tiny, dresses milled around talking. You held Tim’s hand tightly, a glass of champagne clutched in your other hand.

“Mr Muller, it’s good to see you,” Tim said offering the older man a hand shake. An investment banker with multiple connections all over Europe that was currently interested in investing in electronic prosthetic research. He had partially funded a few of WE’s more experimental projects.

“Young Mr Wayne, and your lovely date. I am Simon Muller, Muller Incorporated,” the man said offering his hand to you that you shook. Tim introduced you to the man.

“I have heard rumors that this year was good for Wayne Enterprise,” Mr Muller said with a knowing look. Of course he knew that. Everyone here knew that.

“We’ve been prosperous. Muller Incorporated had some success in stem cell based vaccine research. I saw in Scientific Monthly,” Tim commented.

“Yes, yes, business is well,” Mr Muller said dismissively. He wanted to Schmooz Tim apparently. “How is your father, Bruce?”

“Bruce should be arriving soon actually. He mentioned that he’d like to speak to you about next quarter’s investment. He sounded like it was something quite promising,” Tim teased. Of course, he knew exactly what Bruce was going to talk about. But what was the fun in spilling the beans?

“I can’t wait to hear it. I’m sure we are boring your beautiful companion,” Mr Muller said turning towards you. “Have you been to the Alps before?”

“I haven’t. It’s very beautiful here,” you said with a little smile. “We came a few days early to enjoy some time off.” You threaded your fingers with Tim’s and smiled up at him. It had been some of the best days of your life.

“That sounds quite lovely. I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but your necklace and earrings are spectacular. Where did you get them,” Mr Muller asked. You touched the chain of the necklace automatically.

“They were a gift,” you said and a pleased smile crept on your face despite yourself. Tim had really spoiled you when he bought these.

“From young Mr Wayne,” Mr Muller prompted.

“Yes, Duckie got them for me,” you said without thinking. Only once the words were out of your mouth did you realize your flub. You had called the CEO of Wayne Enterprise ‘Duckie’ in front of an investor. Your eyes widened and Tim blinked a tad too slowly.

The man looked between you both before laughing loudly. “I love it. Well ‘Duckie’ certainly seems to spoil his lovely companion. Ah- here’s your father. Bruce old man! How are you?”

“I’m good. Duckie,” Bruce said with a nod to Tim who was glowing red. What made it all the worse was 15 year old Damian with a smile that pulled his mouth wide. He seemed gleeful.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered in Tim’s ear. He simply squeezed your hand in response.

Bruce and Mr Muller walked away talking about business. Damian stayed and seemed to almost burst with things he wanted to say.

“Quack quack? You know I’ve already sent a message to Richard and Jason?” Damian said.

“Yeah yeah,” Tim said. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem.”

“Let’s get a drink,” Tim said pulling you away from Damian. Damian laughed before walking to Bruce. Tim got a whiskey and took a second to compose himself before going back to the party.

After the party, you went back up to your room. It had gone well the rest of the night but you couldn’t help but feel awful. You’d made Tim look foolish in front of an investor, his father, and younger brother who was looking for ways to tease him.

“Tim, I’m so sorry about calling you Duckie in front of everyone. It was just a slip,” you said softly as Tim kicked his shoes off. He looked up at your face and walked over to you.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I know you didn’t mean to do it. And Mr Muller thought it was funny,” Tim said pulling you into a hug. “Everything went fine.”

“Yeah but Bruce and Damian heard too,” you said looking at the ground. “And Damian will never let it die.”

“Don’t worry about that twerp. I’ll just remind him that he’s never had a girlfriend,” Tim said with a smile. He kissed your forehead and when you wouldn’t look up, he pulled you gently by the chin to face him.

“Seriously sunshine, don’t feel bad for another second. Let’s get you out of those shoes and your makeup. It’s late and I want to lay in bed with my sweet girlfriend,” he said.

You felt so bad as you laid down with him. Tim ran his hands along your back as he always did. It made it all the worse that it was the last day at the resort. You’d hurt the image he was trying to maintain of a serious man. Being young with a baby face, it was a hard task. Tomorrow you would fly back to Gotham and Tim would be working like a manic every day. You didn’t have enough time to make it up to him.

Finally Tim fell asleep before you did. You just stared at the wall for hours. It was sometimes a thing you felt, that you weren’t enough. Tim’s social, political, and economic status was intimidating. How could you possibly be good enough when he could have anything? Fucking up a business party certainly didn’t help. You hugged him tighter, worried he’d get smart and leave you.

The next morning, Tim’s alarm woke you both up. He noticed that instead of being in his arms, you were sleeping on the other side of the bed away from him. He frowned before sliding towards you.

“Sweetheart, sunshine,” Tim said tapping your shoulder. “We have to get dressed so we can make our flight.”

You rolled out of bed and threw on comfortable clothes. Your smile was a little less warm than usual and you weren’t as affectionate as usual. Tim noticed but ignored it as he didn’t have the time to talk to you before the flight anyways.

Onboard in first class, Tim had to reach over to grab your hand before take off. His brows furrowed a little at your lack of touch. It wasn’t until the plane was cruising that he decided to talk about it.

“What’s wrong?” Tim asked. His thumb rubbed the back of your hand softly.

“Nothing,” you said with a bare smile.

“You’re lying. You’re upset about the party. You know nothing happened right? I didn’t get in trouble. I’m not mad at you,” Tim said.

“I know,” and it wasn’t nickname at the party. That was ridiculous. The party triggered an insecurity that you could usually dampen down but never get rid of. You felt like you weren’t good enough. That was it. And no matter how many times Tim reassured you, ther were too many zeros of the wrong kind in your bank account and not enough skills in your hands. You didn’t fit into Tim’s world. Either of them.

“It’s not the party. Not really. It’s you,” you said softly. Tim’s eyebrows jumped up.

“What did I do?”

“Nothing. You’re perfect. I- I’m not a rich pretty socialite or a tough strong vigilante,” you said in a whisper. “I feel like I’m- im not good enough.” You wouldn’t look Tim in the eyes. He climbed out of his seat and knelt beside you. His hands cupped your face and his thumbs stroked your cheeks.

“I’m far from perfect. And you’re worth 10 socialites or vigilantes. You aren’t vapid and your hands are clean. You’re so good. Like so goddamn good. Sometimes I worry you’ll smart up and go with someone uncomplicated. Who can make it to every date. No secrets. Sunshine, I wouldn’t consider anyone else. One little word slipped at one event can’t take away anything. Please smile,” Tim pleaded. The corner of your lip pulled up but you couldn’t smile.

“Please. I’ll stay here until my legs fall asleep and it’ll get awkward. People will think I’m proposing but really I can’t move,” Tim said and you smiled. “That’s my girl. Such a pretty smile. Have I mentioned that my girlfriend is cute?”

You laughed and he reached up to give you a little kiss. “Let’s watch a movie. We can turn the sound off and pretend to know what they are saying.”

“Sure,” you said. Tim sat back down but kept his hand in yours. Occasionally he pulled your hands up to his lip softly as the movie played.

“I’ll stop calling you Duckie. That way I won’t slip again,” you said.

“Absolutely not. I’d wear a name tag that says Duckie before I make you stop,” Tim said watching the movie. You couldn’t help but have a grin from that one.

#friday night smut #Tim drake x reader #Tim drake #Red Robin #yum #Red Robin x reader #batboys x reader #batboys smut

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wannabe-fic-writer · 4 years ago

Text

All Over Again - Chapter 5

Summary: What was lost can be found.

Warning: 18+ Smut, Language, Violence.

Ch. 4

* * * * * *

Your foot taps repeatedly on the linoleum. Eyes surveying the crowd of people moving through the airport.

That is until you hear your name. Pushing yourself up, you look towards the gate, an instant smile on your face at the young woman running towards you.

“Y/N!” Wanda flings herself into your arms and you catch her, the force causing you to turn a little.“ I missed you.” Her breath fans your neck.

“I missed you too Wan.”

Being in NC for a month has been amazing but your time without Wanda sucked.

So the second her mission schedule cleared she flew out here to you.

“I don’t know about much around here but there are some awesome places I want to show you and incredible people to introduce you to.” You tell her, arm around her shoulders.

As you two make your way out of NC Airport you’re constantly dodging people. With it being December there’s an even larger crowd of people about, most of them pouring from the airport.

“The city is a lot like New York but you’ll find a few things that are different.” You tell her, sliding into the driver’s seat of the car.

When you told Lena that Wanda was coming in, the woman insisted you use her car to go pick your best friend up, and it didn’t take much persuasion for you to agree to it.

Just like you had, Wanda admires the interior, while replying to your words,“ I can tell.”

It’s incredible how just being in her presence makes you feel better. While you’ve just been feeling awesome in general(it’s because of Lena) nothing really compares to having your best friend around.

Said younger woman glancing over at you as you pull up to Luthor Corp,“ awe, introducing me to your girlfriend.”

Que instant blush. You don’t reply until you’re opening the door for her,“ she isn’t my girlfriend.”

“Cause you haven’t told her how you feel.”

“I-” you stop to receive a guest pass from the receptionist, Wanda sticking it to her shirt, and continue to the elevators,“ I told you that I’m not in the place to be with someone.”

She sighs,“ you’re stopping your own happiness. I know that you and Natasha talked, she told me. There’s nothing holding you back from exploring things with Lena.” The doors slide open and she steps out,“ except you of course.”

You could totally blame this on her powers. But once again, it’s just Wanda knowing you.

Internally, you could admit that you’re scared. Scared to be hurt again. Scared of being happy and having something step on that.

Knocking on the CEO’s door, you wait for the all clear before stepping inside.

Lena’s face lights up with a smile and your heart flutters.

She stands at the sight of the young woman behind you and rounds the desk to you.

“Lena this is Wanda. Wanda this is Lena.”

They both smile at each other and shake hands.

Wanda tells her,“ Y/n has told me so much about you.”

“All good things I hope.” Lena sends a look to you and you smile brightly, the CEO blushing off that alone.

Your best friend nods,“ good is an understatement. Y/n’s practically in-”

Hand quickly covering Wanda’s mouth, your smile turns nervous,“ it’s lunch time. You two hang out/work and get to know each other, without embarrassing me,” you poke Wanda’s side and she giggles,“ while I go grab some burgers and shakes from Noonan’s.”

With a glance at each other, they both smile and nod.

As you leave out Wanda watches the way Lena watches you and the younger woman can’t help but chuckle. There you are convinced you and Lena are just friends when the CEO is very clearly smitten.

“So, you like Y/n.”

“Wh-” Lena stops, jaw slack and eyes wide.“ How did you know?”

A squeal leaves Wanda’s lips and Lena’s eyes widen,“ you looked at her like she held your whole world and I bet it’s not the first time.”

Obviously the CEO needs to start controlling her expressions better. If Kara and your best friend can tell she likes you off one single look you had to know already right? Right?

“Don’t worry, Y/n’s oblivious.” Wanda gives Lena a gentle smile at the woman’s clear panic, then moving to sit on the couch.“ which is why you should tell her. She’ll never figure it out on her own and I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t want to be with the person they like.”

Lena sighs and sits next to Wanda.“ But if she doesn’t like me then I’ll just end up hurt and I can’t handle that again.”

“You’re more alike than I could’ve imagined.” Wanda murmurs, Lena missing bits of it. Speaking louder she says,“ you won’t know unless you try. Fear can be a protection but also a hindrance.”

A chuckle falls from Lena’s lips,“ are the wise comments an Avengers thing?”

“Nope, it’s a Y/n thing. Hang around long enough you’ll pick up on it too.”

Lena’s fingers wring together,“ if she’ll let me.”

Wanda can’t help but sigh at it. Part of her is happy to be a third party to this budding romance as she is privy to how you both feel. However another part of her just wishes it was you hearing this.

She can’t think of anyone who deserves happiness more than you. Not just after what happened with Natasha but in general, you’ve saved so many people, done so many good things, for her and others. You’ve been giving more than you’ve received for a long time and Wanda can’t help but want better for you.

It’s been a mere number of minutes with Lena but something tells her the CEO could very well be the one to finally give you everything you deserve.

Reaching over, Wanda’s soft hand rests over Lena’s, and green meets green,“ I- just promise me that whatever happens, friends or more, you won’t hurt her.”

Suddenly Lena is incredibly curious. Who had hurt you before? To the point where your best friend holds such intensity over it.

“Well I can't promise it won’t ever happen, but I promise I won’t intentionally hurt her.” And Wanda supposes that’s the best she can get, though she’ll be sure to keep her eyes open.

Suddenly you're sliding into the office, carryout bags in one hand and drink carrier in the other.“ I got one flavor of each and I call dibs on strawberry so, fight to the deaths for the other two.” Both women look at you with amused smiles and you chuckle and shrug,“ fine fine, not fighting I got it.”

They laugh as you hand out a meal and shake to them, you then sitting in the spot they make between themselves.

As you eat you talk, Lena getting to know more about your best friend and the both of you telling Wanda about the core, that you eventually take her to.

Her eyes roam around the alien tech and she raises an eyebrow at you,“ this isn’t another Ultron situation is it?”

Before you can answer, Lena asks,“ Ultron? What’s an Ultron?”

“It- he?” You shake your head,“ Ultron was an AI in a robot body that wanted to cleanse earth of its impurities i.e. the Avengers. It ended alright but was definitely a horrible situation. That will not happen again by the way.” You look pointedly at Wanda.

She shrugs in an ‘I’m just saying’ kind of way, before continuing to look at the core.

Even though you explain the core to Wanda, she doesn’t really understand it. She does get that you plan to use it as a clean and limitless power source.

“Wan, the tests we’ve run have been incredible. So far we know that this could power a small village, maybe some place even bigger. Obviously we’d have to find-”

As you ramble, both Lena and Wanda look on. They can’t get over the happiness in your eyes as you speak, Wanda noting that this particular spark seems different to the one you get as Artemis.

It takes a few explanations before Wanda truly gets it. Which seems to make her interest in it go up. The woman asks you hundreds of questions about it and you answer with excitement.

“Uh, Y/n,” Lena grabs your attention with a gentle hand on your arm,“ I have a meeting I have to get to and I’m not sure how long it’ll take.”

You nod,“ yeah okay. We’ll leave out with you, I have a couple things I want to do with Wan, just um, let me know when everyone is meeting up tonight kay?”

Green eyes crinkle in the corners as she smiles and nods,“ I’ll call you.”

With a smile of your own, she squeezes your arm, and all of you leave out. Lena gives you a soft ‘see you later’ and watches after you as you leave with Wanda.

Outside Wanda playfully nudges your arm with hers. Which makes you look at her with raised eyebrows,“ what?”

“Nothing. Just, you and Lena are super cute.” You groan and roll your eyes but she continues.“ Finishing each other's sentences and nerding out together. I’ve seen you and Tony make suits together and you weren’t half as happy. Further confirming my ‘you like her’ theory.”

You choose not to reply. Instead shoving your hands in your pockets and focusing on the sidewalk ahead of you.

Denying it has no point because it’s true. You like Lena. There’s no reason not to, the woman is truly incredible.

Wanda hooks her arm through yours,“ are you going to do anything about it?”

“I don’t know. You know-”

“There’s a lot going on, you told me. But,” Wanda moves to stand in front of you, her hands now on your shoulders,“ it’s time you let your hurt go. I’m not saying to forget what happened with Natasha because it’s never that easy. You just have to forgive her and move past it. Happiness, true real happiness, could be right there in that building and you’d miss out on it.”

E/c eyes narrow at Wanda. When had she gotten so wise.

As if having just read your thoughts, she resumes her spot at your side,“ you’ve always told me not to hold myself back from happiness, I’m just recycling advice here.”

While showing Wanda around, you can’t help but think about her words.

She has just about every point there is to have. You are holding yourself back. There isn't any reason for you to not pursue Lena. The worst that happens is rejection, though it seems as if Lena likes you, how you aren’t sure but it could be romantic.

Wanda can tell her words are sitting with you and she’s hoping you listen. She can’t even begin to count the number of times your words had saved her, made her feel better, or encouraged her to want better for herself. This, hopefully, is her one chance to repay you for that.

The ringing of your phone sounds and you smile softly at Wanda before answering. She knows it’s Lena from the smile on your lips. It’s small but it reaches your eyes in a way she hadn’t seen in years. With a quick, ‘see you soon’, you hang up and stand.

“Ready to meet some of the most amazing people ever.”

Wanda nods, standing after you and snatching up another nacho before following.

It doesn’t take long to get a car and head to Al’s. Your best friend eyes the bar in the same way you had your first time here.

“Best drinks ever, though some are incredibly strong, and,” you stop at the usual table,“ the best people in town.” Your eyes circle the table, landing on green.

“Aww Y/n.” Kara smiles and hugs you quickly.

You return it before wrapping your arm around Wanda and bringing her closer,“ I want to introduce you guys to Wanda, my best friend and teammate.”

As expected, Winn recognizes her. Had you not spent so much time with him over the last month or so you’d wonder why he follows the Avengers so closely but he’d told you how awesome he thinks your team is and that it’s just interesting.

Subconsciously, you find a spot beside Lena. Your sides bumping with the proximity. With her sitting, you have to glance down at her. The way she looks up at you through long black lashes makes little goosebumps rise on your arms.“ Hi.” You breathe.

“Hi.” She replies.

It’s the smallest step you could take but you find yourself wanting to, Wanda’s admonition in mind, so you open your arms to her. Sort of surprisingly, she accepts it, leaning into your side and wrapping her arms around your waist while yours circle her shoulders.

You pray to god she can’t hear your heart pounding but you know she can, her ear is literally pressed to your chest.

When the hug breaks you catch the faintest of pink dusting Lena’s cheeks and mentally you’re pushed a little closer to believing she likes you.

“So,” your hands smack together quietly,“ first rounds on me, what’re we drinking?”

Everyone gives you their drink orders(you and Mon-El teasing each other about his choice of two drinks) and you nod, heading to the bar with a wide smile to order it.

Looking back at the table as you wait, you see Wanda getting along with everyone. Despite her usually reserved attitude, the group seems to be pulling her from her shell at least a little. Every so often she speaks and they all laugh or smile.

A frown replacing the smile when you notice the lack of two people. Eyes scanning the bar until you spot James and Lena. The muscled man placing his hand on Lena’s arm gently, brown eyes softening. You feel your shoulders drop at the interaction.

What’re they talking about?

Is it you?

Is it them?

Is there a them?

Why are you suddenly over thinking this?

With a sigh you rub your eyebrows and turn back to the bar.

Not even a second later a hand is placed on your shoulder and you follow the appendage to find Alex. She raises an eyebrow at you,“ everything alright?”

“Um-” You contemplate whether to ask her or not. She’s given you no reason not to trust her.“ I- is there something going on with them?”

Alex follows your nod to Lena and James.“ Use to be.”

Figures.

It’s like you can feel yourself completely writing away your feelings. Storing them away. And you can’t stop it. Not that you should right? Your s/o being around their ex definitely fucked you over before. If you continue down the path of falling for Lena it’s practically a set up.

Would you really be able to handle another heartbreak like that? No.

Is Lena worth risking it? You aren’t sure.

* * * * * *

Taglist: @username23345 @depressed-bi-bitch @fayhar @trikruismybitch @marvel-wlw @aznblossom @chicken-wang09 @bitchtits15 @coxmicbabygirl @blackluthxr

#lena luthor #lena luthor x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #dcu #dcu x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #reader insert #all over again

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fa-by · 3 years ago

Text

Hi babies and dear Anons 👋🏼🤗 Back with a new 'Q&A' post. Enjoy 🙃

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 and yes, I did. You can find it here, dear: https://fa-by.tumblr.com/post/648192029691691008/camren-timeline-tittle-edited.

Yes, I heard about that rumor, dear Anon, and veeery false.

I knoooow 😍😍😍 Let's cry in joy and queerness 🥺😭🌈🏳‍🌈

Yep, dear Anon. And unfortunately for us, they will continue to do so for a veeeery long time 😒🙄😔

No, dear Anon, I highly doubt it's another duet. They'd be really, but really stupid if they do 🤦🏻‍♀‍

No, dear Anon, these are just people who want attention. People who have problems in their lives and talk shit about others to feel better. This is just the work of those people who believe in black magic and want to involve as many people as possible to think like them, and if they fail, they attack you because you didn't agree with them and you didn't go to their side. They can get so desperate they even get to the point of, oh I don't know, since you've blocked them, sending an anonymous ask to your girlfriend with a death wish for you:

The funny thing for me besides thinking that maybe this person believes they're a witch and imagining them with a voodoo doll with a needle in my stomach, is that I was kind to them the first time 🤷🏻‍♀‍ I tried to make them reason, I really tried to meet them halfway, but sometimes that's not enough with people like that.

But anyway. My point is that no, management has nothing to do with it. Thank you for your ask, dear 🤗

It's okay, dear Anon, don't worry 😄 In last time’s ask you wanted my opinion on the song, right? Well, Not Killin' It Today simply talks about how not every day is a good day. It can happen to all of us not to feel 100%, and Mila says just that. For us girls it can happen even more during or just before the red sea period, if you know what I mean, and indeed, she herself sings “I'm PMSing” = PMS: premenstrual syndrome. If that's why, I think she wrote this song precisely around that period 🤣

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 Don't worry, dear, I can understand you, and if I hadn't, we would have found a way to do it. English is not my first language either.

1) Yes, I do think that.

2) (I knew all this) I know she did; she's been doing it for years if that's why because Taylor is one of Camila's mentors. Taylor is what can be defined as the celebrity master with PRs. She’s always done what she was asked to do and she’s always fulfilled her PRs duties of her contracts, and indeed, look where she is now, as well as being a great songwriter. So yeah, who better than her?

Hope you're great too, dear 🤗

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 I'm sorry I'm bad with general questions like this 😅 I'm so much better when I'm asked a more specific question, and usually, when I have something in mind, I write it and create a post with my opinion about it. I'm not kidding about how bad I am at this, believe me. It’s the same thing as when I get the typical “tell me something about yourself” phrase. It's like my brain suddenly switches off 😅🤣 Can you take a look at all my posts from my archive to see which ones I’ve already responded to and maybe come back with a question? I'm really sorry, dear 😖🥺

I'm sorry but Camila can't stop anything, dear Anon. Not Camila, not Roger, and not even Shoo. I understand your frustration, believe me, I do, but you, and anyone else to which this is still not clear, need to understand that it's a contract. A contract called a relationship contract, and it's a legally binding document. I know it's hard, but the advice I can give you is to ignore the 12-year-old SS and their fantasies, and wait for it to finish without wasting your energy on the bullshit they say. Don't let them get to you and unleash your anger. You make them win this way. Rather, have a laugh at their ignorance.

Hey dear Anon, I'm good, thanks, and I hope you're doing well too 😊 They broke up for a little while, for about a month before, so more than a breakup I would call it a little break. And to answer the rest of your questions, dear, I'll sum it all up by telling you that when they're not together, or they're on a break, they have a different way of acting than when they're together. And I speak in general. It shows in the way they behave in general. Now it's much harder to see since they're no longer in the group and you could clearly see when it happened, and it’s also hard since the pandemic, but there are patterns. I’ve spent so much time analyzing them that they're quite predictable in my eyes 🤣 Forgive me if I'm not going into details, but these are personal observations that not everyone can agree on, you know? Maybe I'll do it in the future, who knows 🤷🏻‍♀‍ We'll see 😉 Have a good day/night too 😄

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼 and thank you very much 😄 and yes, of course. To answer the rest of your questions, I'll summarize everything by telling you that you have to take into account that I entered the fandom at the Work from Home's time, so they were all just rumors to me initially. Camren themselves were just a rumor to me. I had to search, analyze, and find the proofs on my own to prove to myself which ones were true or not. The first example that comes to mind and that I can give you is the kiss in the van in London that I recently explained in my ‘Inauguration’ post.

I'm sorry you think this way, dear Anon. I honestly think she doesn't even know. She has said many times that she tries to stay away from social media, and I really believe that. She did it before already, but I'm convinced that she does that even more since she was going through that bad time and she was about to give it all up. Besides, it's known that she doesn't manage her accounts, just as it's known that she doesn't even control how they’re used I would say 90% of the time. I don't know if she'll find out and eventually will say something about it. We don't even know if she has the freedom to do so. So, I'm really sorry you're making a decision based on something she didn't do.

Hey to you too, dear Anon 😄 Yeah, it's nothing new. I'd already debunked the whole Laucy story with my very first post (https://fa-by.tumblr.com/post/648191757219250176/there-is-a-light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel), so as far as I'm concerned, she can say what she wants in future podcasts/interviews as well, but she'll never be able to convince me that she's not actually talking about Camila. This was simply a much more chill, fun, with no tears, and no mention of Camila repetition. The first podcast served to plant the seed. We know that Lucy is her main narrative and we know that she will continue to use her for a very long time. I mean, it’s convenient for her. It's the perfect cover for our Mila. But if people want to keep believing they (Laucy) were real, that's honestly their problem 🤣 Let them be convinced of their beliefs, dear, and have a laugh 😉

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 Here's the thing……… Yes, to everything you said 🤣 but let me explain why.

1&2) Yes, Laur is like ‘part’ of their contract but for simple narrative, as you yourself said too. If that's why, so are 5H and all the rest of the people who are or have been involved with them. I'll give you an example. You know the bullshit they said about the Austin Mahone tour? That Sunsilk was always isolated in his bus playing guitar? That no one spoke to him outside of Camila when there are actually plenty of videos showing him spending time with the rest of 5H and the other people on the tour too? Certainly none of those people can call him out on that bullshit today and say it wasn't true. They'd blow his cover. They'd make him not credible in the general public's eyes. So everyone needs to be quiet for what they know (that's how it works in that world for every damn thing), and that's Lauren's involvement in their PR. Be quiet. Be quiet and go along with the game. Just as Camila had to during hers with Tymbal.

3) They have to, dear, or all the farces told so far would go to shit for the GP too. 4) 100%, dear Anon, 100% 😏😉 but it must also be said that they'll remain connected forever anyway because of the group.

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 Welcome and thank you very much 🤗

1) Everything she's been doing lately leads us to think that the first single for the EP will arrive shortly. I think and hope it will arrive for the summer, but as far as the actual EP is concerned, it will depend on the release of the single. So if the single is out this summer, it's very likely that the EP will follow its course by arriving towards the beginning of autumn. We'll see, dear, we'll see 🤞🏼 🤞🏼 🤞🏼

2) I know that many people get upset and that they're disappointed, and while I too would like her to interact with us more, I also know and understand that it's not just up to her. Although she's much but much freer than before, she still has contracts, people, and patterns to follow.

Take it from someone who's waiting for Rihanna's new album for 5 years 😅🤣 It takes patience, and I have a lot of patience, dear. I fall into the category of those who don't mind waiting simply because I'll always support Lauren.

People forget this: we have to consider ourselves lucky that after what she went through, she decided to pursue with music.

If you love her, if you stan her, then be patient. Stay metaphorically speaking by her side no matter what. That’s what I think, dear Anon.

Do you mean the first breakup they had that lasted from late November 2014 to late December/very first days of January 2015, or do you mean the bad one that took place in October 2015? But in any case, both of your questions rejoin only one event, dear Anon: the real breakup of the group that happened in mid-October 2015. But answering you more specifically:

1) You can see with your own eyes the videos of the interviews of that period by starting with this one https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9WqOb9qBQ_M&t=11s.

2) Camila’s unofficial departure from the group at the time was the icing on the cake, but you have to consider a lot of things, dear. The fact that they were young. The fact that they were in the spotlight and were being monitored by both fans and management. The fact that they had those same people controlling them and telling them what to do all the time. The fact that they were constantly under pressure. The fact that they couldn't be together freely as a couple. The fact that they were forced to pretend they didn't love each other. The fact that they were forced to do PRs, despite being much lighter than now. I could go on with the list, dear Anon, but I think you get the point. It's a lot of stress and a lot to digest, especially considering how young they were and the environment around them.

Have a nice day too, dear 😄

Of course I can answer you, dear Anon 😊 So, in my opinion, and always keep in mind that I could be wrong, she told every person in her clique at different times. I think Mila knew about her attraction to girls back in school, but she didn't say anything to anyone because she didn't have a reason to. In the sense that she hasn't had the opportunity to approach another girl and therefore have a reason to tell someone about her queerness. After her first kiss with Lauren on New Year's Eve, I'm willing to bet that the first person she came out to was her mom. Camila's number one best friend is and always has been Sinu, so I can feel it in my bones that she was the first one to know. Oh and, we're in early 2013 here, so Mila was still 15.

After Sinu, there were the girls (DNA) who obviously lived their story with them step by step and therefore I don't think it was a real coming out with them, and her best friends back at home, Sandra and Marielle Guzman (and maybe also Mariana Luna since she was the other one with whom she was very close immediately after the two sisters, but I'm not very convinced of it), and Jenny Runza, who despite being a little younger than Sinu, Mila has always regarded as one of her best friends.

In 2014, when Camren were official, there were more confirmations that led to her automatic coming out with the rest of her clique's friends since the word Camren had already spread around like wildfire for almost two years by then.

At the beginning of 2015, it was the moment when Laur came out to her family, so I strongly believe that that was also Alejandro's moment, although I'm convinced that like the Jaureguis, Ale knew about his daughter all along and that he was even more convinced at X-Factor. Sofi was last on the list simply for a matter of age and I'm talking about 2017. I can't tell you when she told her grandpas. I don't even know if she could have told Norberto because I don't know the kind of relationship she has with him, but Mercedes? Well, abuelita certainly knew this before 2018 because I laugh when I think about the way she looked and talked with Mattress during their PR.

It's not that simple, dear Anon. You're not considering the fact that they didn't communicate during that time. You're dwelling on only one thing and are not looking at the big picture of their relationship at the time. Okay. Let's do something. Picture a scenario that has nothing to do with Camren.

Picture a couple living together. A couple who often quarrel over even the most trivial things or who don't talk at all because they almost avoid each other. Their relationship is very unstable and they're basically at the end of it. Now picture a conversation between this couple in which the only exchanges spoken in a normal way are by then just daily information such as: “I'll be at work from 8 to 4” - “Okay. Will you come home right after?” - “Yeah, I think so” - and then that person comes home at 6 pm despite the worried calls and messages received.

They're so distant that the person who came home late didn't feel compelled to pick up the phone and tell them about the delay. Probably that person didn't even feel compelled to give an explanation and justify the delay once they got home because they're convinced that their partner doesn't really care and that they're just looking for yet another excuse to argue. That person will have felt even more trapped and suffocated by their partner who was really worried instead, but neither of them tells the other the truth because they're too busy arguing and blaming each other instead of meeting each other halfway and really talking about what they feel and makes them vulnerable. They will surely end up in bed with their backs to each other without saying a word to each other after the fight.

Now look at these phrases from the song itself and put Camren's faces in place of the couple in the example: “With no confrontation, I really wish we could talk about it instead” – “All I need from your side is for you to communicate”. Is it easier for you to understand the dynamic now, dear?

Hello to you too @camilalauren0327 👋🏼😄 [why can't I ever tag you in posts?]

No, no, no, dear. None of this happens. So. I'd like to start by saying that OCD begins when people misunderstand their own thoughts. We've all had unwelcome and intrusive thoughts at least once in our lives, right? Well, the importance of those thoughts becomes much more intense or sometimes even extreme for people with obsessive-compulsive disorder. Like, I'll give you a stupid example, okay?

Most of the time I park, I lock the car, and after I’ve taken a couple of steps, I ask myself: “Ma ho chiuso la macchina?” / “Did I lock the car?”. So, I turn around and lock it again with the keys' remote control even though I've already done it, but I do that anyway to be sure and because maybe I really didn't do it because it happened for real. Now. What would a person with OCD do? Most likely they would do like me, and after getting halfway, they would go back again to close it AGAIN. They would do it a couple of times, and most likely, they would do it a third time after they got home. They would leave the house to go lock the car they've already locked five times.

OCD can begin in adolescence, early adulthood, or even childhood. The onset of obsessive-compulsive disorder is typically gradual, but in some cases, it can begin suddenly. Symptoms vary in severity from time to time and this variation may be related to the occurrence of stressful events. Now. Doesn't all this rings a bell for you? No? Okay, let me explain. I'll copy a piece of my ‘Camren Timeline (Tittle edited)’ post for you: “Camila suffers from one of the variants of OCD since she was 8, and despite seeing a therapist since 2013, her OCD was diagnosed at the end of 2015. C also suffers from anxiety, panic attacks, mood disorders, and depression (all linked to her OCD).”

Why did she start suffering from it at the age of 8? Because little Mila moved back and forth between Havana and Mexico City until she was 5, almost 6, right? After that, she moved to Miami with her mom by leaving behind her family, her friends, basically everything she knew, and her dad. Her dad finally managed to rejoin them almost two years later when she was almost 8 years old. Although she had her family with her again, her little mind didn't relax. It didn’t bring peace to her. In fact, that sprang her first OCD symptoms, which gradually worsened and then fully erupted years later in the group.

What triggers OCD? Stressful life events.

Got it now? Were you able to put the pieces together, dear? I've also answered other questions on the same topic here if it may interest you: https://fa-by.tumblr.com/post/648194918161989633/%C9%9F.

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 Don't worry, nobody’s asked me to do it yet.

So, as I think we all know, The Boy was originally titled Care About Me. Ed Sheeran wrote it and gave it to Mila for her self-titled album Camila. Mila almost completely rewrote it (Ed said 90% of it) and lastly discarded it because it didn't fit well with the rest of the songs on the album, and I totally understand that.

Intro:

“Yeah, he's messed up a couple times

But he's my glass of cherry wine

And I drink and I drink 'til I'm drunk off of him

I'm in love

(Ash:) He just hit me up to come over

He said what?”

So. The song begins with Mila trying to justify the boy by saying that even though he made mistakes, she's so into him to get past it. I know she used terms like drunk off of him and in love, but she doesn't mean that she's actually in love with him in this case. Just very into him. She's jokingly explaining the situation because she's talking to Ashlee, her friend, and I don't know about you, but my friends and I often use the term in love to make people laugh and to indicate interest in someone.

Like if we see someone for the first time and they're really hot, or if one of the celebrities we like posts like a selfie, we say “I'm in love”. Or, like, another kind of example: one of my best friends has been dating this guy for a few months, and last week he surprised her with some flowers (which he paid very much by the way) and with dinner just because. Hearing her happiness since she has always had only assholes so far, when she finished telling me everything, I made fun of her by laughing and saying: “Lost in love, huh?”. Not because she's actually in love with him, but because it was such a nice thing and she's into him.

So Mila used those phrases to indicate how much she liked him and not because she was actually in love. Also because if she had really been in love with him, she wouldn't have said she didn't care about him for the rest of the song.

Then ‘Ash’ receives the text, and this leads us to understand that the boy is a player and a cheater.

Verse 1:

“Momma said, ‘Always be kind, girl’ (Girl, what's on your mind?)

But I got something I should say (Say it, girl), uh

Boy, I'm sick and done and tired (There's something on my mind)

I'm not yours to manipulate, uh-huh (Tell him girl, tell hi)”

It explains itself quite well. She can't take it anymore.

Pre-Chorus:

“Oh boy, hold your tongue, I don't want no 'pology

‘Cause we both know you're thinking wit' was under your jeans”

Mila tells him not to waste his breath on justifications derived from his member because she doesn't need them. Tsk, Tsk. Typical male behavior. 80% of their thoughts are formulated based on how and where to put their tool in 🙄

“Sent your friends over to tell them you're missing me”

He even sends his friends to her to try to change her mind, but:

“But I don't care, so tell that boy that I am fine”

But she doesn't care. She doesn't care because she's fine this way. In fact, she's better off without him.

Chorus:

“I don't care about the day he decided to leave

I won't be there when he tells another lie so”

This makes us understand how many times she's had to forgive his bullshit.

“I'm gon' use all of my words for weapons”

We know how lethal words can be.

“'Cause the boy don't care about me, lemme say it again, now, babe

I don't care about the way he thinks it's so sweet (Ah)

All that sugar cone gon' be bad for me tomorrow (Ah)”

He can try to kiss her ass as much as he wants, but she won't change her mind. Talking sweet to try to win her back doesn't work because she doesn't want to deal with a player who lies to her and messes up every time.

“I'm gon' use all of my words for weapons

'Cause the boy don't care about me”

He doesn't really care about her, so it's even useless to her that he tries to fix it.

Verse 2:

“All my girls inside the place now (Say we don't need no man)

No wonder we switch sides sometimes (We got this)”

Camilita, Camilita, Camilita 😏 No wonder many girls prefer other girls, huh?

Switching sides can mean switching sides in the true sense of the word, that is for example going from one side of a room to the other. It can mean changing your mind about something or someone. And, most interesting of all in this case, it can mean switching sides in sexual orientation.

I've said many times that she's a fucking genius, and we know how sneaky she is with her songs. She was really smart at using this hidden meaning because a lot of people took it for granted that she meant the meaning of changing her mind since we girls have this nomination about often changing our minds about something.

“Wipe that good look off your face (Say we got better plans)

Ooh, you better not act surprised (For real)”

Exactly. What would be the point? A lot of guys do that 🙄

Bridge:

“Oh, oh, don't care about me

That's fine with me, babe

You don't care about me

And that's fine with me

Fine with me, fine with me (Don't care about)

It is what I need, oh (That's fine with)

Don't care about, care about

Care about, care about me, oh”

She's fine with it simply because she doesn't care about him either.

Outro:

(Ash:) “Girl, that's old, we're done with that”

Yep. She's definitely done with that/him.

And this is my interpretation, dear Anon 😄 In my opinion, if this song really ended up on the self-titled, it would've been used to give yet another proof of her light, old PR with Michael. People were supposed to remember her last, sure, Jan, flame before meeting the love guru Matrix. It was supposed to be like: “Hey, hey, guys, I'm straight, look! I was with a boy and now with another grandpa one!”.

It's just a different version of the Cinderella song for me: she doesn't need a guy in her life. Don't wrap your head around it too much, dear Anon. There's no deep meaning behind it at all. After all, this song was given to her by her idol, and she certainly couldn't refuse. She changed it in a sassy and fun way, she saw that she couldn't fit it with the others because it wouldn't have made sense, and she then discarded it. The end. She was like: it was funny, but I actually have a story to tell. Bye-bye.

Have a good day too, dear ❤️

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 and yes of course I can do both, but for what purpose am I supposed to do All Again? I mean, I can give you my interpretation of that song without any problem, but it wasn't written by them. By none of them five. That's why I'm asking you for what purpose am I supposed to do that. And that should answer your second question as well. Like No Way and many other songs, the girls may have related to them, but they didn't write them. The only songs they wrote, and not alone but with other songwriters, are:

- Me & My Girls, Don't Wanna Dance Alone, and Who Are You for Better Together,

- All in My Head (Flex) for 7/27,

- and for the self-titled album we have Sauced Up: Arlen (+ other songwriters), Make You Mad: Normally (+ other songwriters), Lonely Night: Norminah (+ other songwriters), Messy: Normally (+ other songwriters), and Bridget: Alren (+ other songwriters).

It's like you ask me to give you my interpretation on for example Who Are You. I could do it without a problem, but that song was written by 8 different heads. With the exception of the bridge that we know Lauren wrote, I can't tell you who among Camila, Dinah, Normani, Ally, Julian Bunetta, PJ Bianco, and Nasri Atweh wrote which part. Analyzing a song sung by a single artist/songwriter is completely different because the idea and concept and feelings are based on a single person. The songwriters who co-write the song together with the artist adapt to them, or maybe the idea comes to one of them, but they modify the concept together with the artist based on their personal experience, as happened for example with Consequences.

Now that you know all this, do you still want me to analyze All Again? Let me know 😄

Let's move on to More Than That.

Lauren wrote four songs in 2016, two of them were meant to be for someone else, but one of them, as we all know well, she kept it to herself. She decided to keep More Than That to herself once she modified the original lyrics along with Prince Charlez and SoundzFire, aka Hue Wayne Strother.

Intro:

“M-M-M-Murda”

This small part of the initial effect intro we hear, is simply a shoutout to Murda Beatz, one of the two producers of the song.

Verse 1:

“I see you watching so I walked into your stare

'Cause I ain't in the position to be walking over there”

She's not in the position to go there simply because she's taken, but she likes to be watched. She likes the attention she's receiving, so she puts herself in plain sight so that this person can keep looking at her.

“I got a situation, I can tell you wanna know”

This guy must have wondered: ‘Why if she's looking back at me, then she won't approach me? Is she someone who likes playing hard to get? Is she a teasing sort? Is she waiting for me to go to her? Or maybe she's in a relationship?’ Typical questions you ask yourself in that situation, and Laur summarized them all in one simple sentence.

“How you can take an honest girl and turn her to a …

If I'ma take a gamble, then you better come correct

I need more than them diamonds that you got around your neck

Shit, anybody can flex, my baby do it best

If you come with somethin' better, then we might just take it there”

The stare, the fact that this guy has the money (diamond necklace), the physical appearance, are not enough for her to push her to cheat. Because if she has to take the risk of cheating, these are certainly not the things that would drive her to do it, but she could if he had something better to offer her. [And with that, please keep in mind that Lauren is a very loyal person and that she wouldn't have done it even if this guy had gone with something better]

Pre-Chrous:

“I know I ain't right for tempting you

But I just wanna see what you would do

If I gave you a taste of what I do

Just remember that I don't belong to you”

The fact that she returned his gaze, that she spoke to him and gave him just a little taste, doesn't mean that she’s no longer taken. As I said before, she likes the attention, and although she knows that it's wrong to instigate him, she does it anyway because she's playing with him. “It's kind of more like clowning him” as she said herself.

Chrous:

“You gon' have to come stronger than this liquor

Wanna take me home, better be more convincing

It'll take more than that to get to me

More than that to get your way

Boy, you better come stronger than this liquor

Wanna take me home, better be more convincing

It'll take more than that to get to me

More than that to get your way

I'm stronger than this liquor”

During the approach in which the guy tried to ‘take her home’ for the night, Lauren easily manages to reject him despite being drunk, because her loyalty is stronger than the attraction she may have felt for him and certainly stronger than what she was drinking.

Verse 2:

“If my man notice, there’ll be some issues”

🤣 🤣 🤣 🤣 🤣 🤣 🤣

I'm sorry but every time I listen to this part I can literally picture Camila turning into the Incredible Hulk as we've seen many times. And shit, despite her being tiny, Mila can be scary when she's pissed off.

“But take my number down, I just might hit you

No, I'm just playing, I'm so deep in love

But the way you talkin' might just have me actin' up”

Drunken thoughts mixed with attraction/arousal blocked by common sense and loyalty.

“The way you looking at me, boy, I know what's up

I can feel how you feel without even a touch”

Let's not fool ourselves, guys. You too will have felt when a person is ready to jump your bones. To feel it in the air. To perceive it from the way they look at you, talk to you, and yes, even using excuses to innocently touch for example your arm even if the intentions are far from innocent. These kinds of things, whether you're in a relationship or not, whether you're loyal or not, and especially if you're attracted to the person in question, make you feel appreciated. They make you feel good. But:

“But don't think that's gon' make me give it up

Boy, your time is up”

But that doesn't mean, however, that you take action on it. It doesn't mean you give in to temptation. It was nice, but no thanks. Bye-bye.

Outro:

“It'll take more”

It takes more than good looks, money, and fake, shiny people from L.A.

And that's it, dear Anon 🙃 This is just a funny song about a situation that happened in a club, in which Lauren shows her flirtatious side but also her loyal side. It wasn't that good for her image, but I have an explanation for that as well.

Remember how I initially said that Lauren wrote this song to give it to someone else and then decided to keep it for herself after modifying the original lyrics? Well, in my opinion, she ‘decided to keep it’ and was even chosen as a single, simply for the narrative. It was chosen to go along with the fake love square cheating bullshit [Lauren and Ty who cheated on Lucy and Alycia to be together]. People should have believed even more that Lauren was a person capable of cheating, and this song served the purpose.

🤸🏻‍♀‍🤸🏻‍♀‍🤸🏻‍♀‍

Aaand I'm done 😜 I hope I was helpful in this case too 😄 Thank you all for your asks and as usual, know that I'm available for those who have questions, so feel free to ask 😊

Always remember to be kind, to others and to yourselves. Be a good example. Be patient. Be safe and take care of yourselves. Don't let our ship sink. Keep shipping them, but please respectfully 🙏🏼 Sending you virtual love and hugs 🤗🤗🤗 I love you, babies. Always with love, F ❤️

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