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bella-rose29 · 5 months

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Pretty

Anthony Lockwood x gn!reader

requested by anon: Saw your post about Lockwood ideas so here's one! Reader and Lockwood have an extremely close call on a case and in the heat of the moment, Lockwood ends up kissing the reader.

Made this one gn since no gender was specified! hopefully I haven't messed up anywhere with that (pls let me know tho)

I am also so so sorry about how long this took anon 😭 I have nobody to blame but myself for that I won't lie

lockwood has his tea like Cameron and I'm convinced it's a fact

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: swearing, they fight some visitors

Tag list: @anathemaloren, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @dangelnleif, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @ran23sblog, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @wandamaximoffbae, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife

As always, let me know here if you'd like to be added to/removed from my Lockwood and Co tag list, or send me a message! <3

(not my image, also I'm fully aware of how many times I use this one)

"Hey, I've just put the kettle on, d'you want tea?" Lucy chirped as Y/n entered the kitchen, paperwork in hand. They nodded gratefully, shoving the papers onto the table and flopping in a chair. "What's all that for?" Lucy asked, gesturing to the multiple files now scattered in front of Y/n.

"The case tonight. Lockwood's refusing to help me with the research, the little shit. Says he's got 'important business' to go on, whatever that means." They frowned, remembering how he'd been essentially ignoring them all day. "Did I do something to upset him?" they asked Lucy, looking up at the girl.

"Don't think so. Why?"

"Don't know. Just, he hasn't talked to me all day, so I-" Y/n was cut off by Lucy's snort of laughter, and their frown deepened. "What?! Why are you laughing?!"

"He hasn't talked to you all day? God, just tell him you like him already!"

Y/n flushed at her words, and threw a scrunched up piece of paper at Lucy. "Shut up," they mumbled, crossing their arms and slouching in their chair. Lucy only laughed more, handing over a cup of tea and sitting down next to her friend as she started to rifle through the papers. "What are you doing?"

"Helping you out, silly. If Lockwood won't do it, I will. You'll be so unprepared otherwise, and I can't have my best friend dying yet."

"Thanks, Luce."

"Sure," she shrugged, studying a news article. "Dunno why you like him though. He can be a monumental tw-"

"Hi Lucy, Y/n," Lockwood said, stepping through the door with carrier bags in his hands. He looked at them, wondering why they were suddenly quiet when he'd heard the two of them talking before he walked in, but when he saw the kettle boiled on the side that was ready for him to make his tea to his liking he forgot all about it. Dumping the bags, he moved to the cupboards and reached for the honey, pouring the right amount into the mug. Lockwood heard the scrape of a chair and a whispered protest as he added the white sugar (one teaspoon), and turning around he found Lucy getting up to leave and Y/n tugging on her arm and begging her to stay. Lucy had a wicked grin, though, and in one swift movement she'd unhanded herself from Y/n and skipped out of the door, and a moment later her footsteps could be heard on the stairs.

Y/n was glaring at the door, as if it would bring Lucy back to the kitchen, but when Lockwood sat down next to them with his cup of tea in one hand and the deft fingers of his other picking up a pile of papers, their expression immediately softened.

"Glad you finally felt you could grace the plebs with your presence, my lord," they joked, hoping he would apologise for being absent all day. He cracked a smile, shaking his head as he chuckled.

"Can't be around all the time, can I? You'll boost my ego too much."

"I would argue we reign your ego in. Honestly, I'm suffocating on it right now." Their eyes were wide in mock frankness, making Lockwood laugh more. "Seriously though," Y/n said when he'd calmed down a little. "Where were you?" They tried to not sound too hurt, but Lockwood picked up on it like he always did.

"I told you, I had important business-"

"What 'important business', Lockwood? Because I've had to do this research on my own, and there's way too much of it!" He at least had the good grace to look sheepish, scratching the back of his neck and mumbling something into his tea. George entered the kitchen then, pausing whatever conversation Y/n and Lockwood had been having. He stood in the doorway, picking up on the strange atmosphere but not knowing what to do about it, and shook his head as he went to make a sandwich. None of them talked, and George kept casting the two of them weird looks as he moved around the kitchen, looking like he wanted to say something but never getting that far, until eventually he finished making his lunch and left, closing the door with a soft click (and a loud protest from the hinges) behind him. Y/n had turned back to their papers, attempting to read over the documents and figure out the history of the building before they headed out for the evening. "Are you at least gonna help me now?" they sighed, looking back up at him. He nodded, washing out the mug of tea that he'd downed in the last few minutes.

They sat in silence for a while after that, only talking when one of them found something interesting or worth making note of. Lockwood stopped rifling through papers at one point, file limp in his hand while he studied his coworker. "I'm sorry," he said, and although his voice was quiet it startled Y/n. "I just- I know I'm difficult sometimes- okay, fine, a lot of the time," he amended at Y/n's raised eyebrows. "But I really did have important business to attend to. I was stocking up on equipment for tonight. Not much, just a couple of flares."

"And that took you the whole day? George has only just come down for lunch and it's three in the afternoon."

"I was also..." he sighed through his nose, irritation flitting across his face. "I was also getting this," he said, rushing the words as he yanked something out of his jacket pocket. How he'd ever got the item in there in the first place Y/n had no clue, since they weren't aware of Lockwood having pockets that large.

"What is it?" they asked, skeptical of the rectangular object they now held. It had been expertly wrapped, with a nice little bow on the front, and when Lockwood simply gestured for them to open it they peeled the paper off, revealing the book inside. "Is this-"

"Took me ages to find a store that had it. I know how much you've been obsessing about getting it so I figured since I was out I might as well. I didn't realise how long it would take though, and I didn't exactly want to admit that to you either."

"Lockwood, you really didn't have to do-"

"Shush, or I'll return it." That shut them up, making them clutch the book close to their chest as if to prevent him from taking it away. "Come on. We've got work to do."

~~~

Half an hour later Lockwood was making another cup of tea for both of them, laughing as Y/n complained about some of the details (or lack thereof) in the building plans.

"I mean, there's an entire room that just... doesn't exist on the floor plans, even though we went to the house! How does that happen? It's not even an extension- oh, thank you," they were interrupted when Lockwood passed them their mug, hot tea warming Y/n's hands as they gripped the beverage. His hand lingered on the handle a moment longer than was necessary, his gaze catching on theirs, and Y/n held their breath when their fingers brushed. Lockwood seemed to snap out of whatever daze he was in, jerking his arm back, clearing his throat, and shuffling over to his own seat.

It was weird; they'd brushed past each other on the stairs and had curled up next to each other on sofas before, and held (very limited) eye contact every day (it was awkward holding it for more than a few seconds, even with Lockwood), so why was this time any different?

They spent the next few hours in more silence, the atmosphere mildly awkward as they worked, and by the time they pulled up to the house in the back of the taxi not long before sundown Y/n thought they might burst from the sheer amount of tension they could feel.

They had always been an overthinker, analysing minuscule details that, in reality, probably didn't matter, but for some reason stuck in Y/n's head for months after. It didn't help that they had feelings for Lockwood, since it made every touch or lingering glance have a stronger effect on their overthinking tendencies, and very often took them out of the real world and into their own head.

Which was unfortunate when they needed to be very much in the real world to fight Visitors.

In fairness, the man that owned the property had told them (with a shocking amount of certainty) that there were two Type Ones, one Shade and one Lurker, and while Y/n was inclined to disagree that he knew best, Lockwood was flashing a winning smile and grasping the keys, assuring the owner that Type Ones were nothing the pair of them couldn't handle.

They set up their chains and defences, did an initial reading of the whole house (the stairs came back as the coldest at nine degrees, with the upstairs family bathroom a close second at ten - worrying for the early hour), then returned to the kitchen and put the kettle on, cracking open a packet of biscuits.

"Are you sure about what he said? I mean he's what, late thirties to early forties? How reliable is he for identifying Type Ones if he won't be able to see them?"

"Look, we have no reason to distrust hi-"

"I literally just gave a reason."

"Okay, fine. No reason to distrust him yet. Everything we've seen so far from our initial readings is pointing to Type Ones, and we're Lockwood and Co. This isn't anything we can't handle." Y/n had been about to protest again, to say something about how the stairs and bathroom really shouldn't have been so cold this early on, but then he had smiled at them, one reserved purely for his friends, and they melted, all thoughts of danger gone out of their head.

Perhaps they should have fought harder against him, or perhaps they shouldn't have become too wrapped up in the moments from the kitchen earlier, but either way they didn't notice the Limbless until it had nearly pushed its misshapen body through their head.

~~~

Lockwood had shoved them out the way, their bodies rolling over each other as they tumbled down the hallway, the air shifting as the Limbless soared over them.

Lockwood ended up on top, his body shielding Y/n's, and he lifted his head up from where it had previously been in their neck, asking a desperate "Are you okay?" They nodded in response, too shaken to do much else, and then Lockwood was up, yanking their arm to pull them up beside him as he drew his rapier. Y/n did the same, hands trembling slightly as they finally registered the miasma that felt like it was suffocating them.

"Limbless, but we can handle that. You getting anything that can help?" He was referencing Y/n's Touch, but when they pressed their hand to the bannister experimentally the feeling of fear that washed over them was so strong they stumbled back, bumping into Lockwood.

"Shit, that was not fun," they said, grimacing at the headache they could already feel forming. "We can't use flares, Lockwood, it's too cramped in here. We're gonna have to draw it away if we can, then find the Source. It's got to be the stairs somehow, I just can't figure it out."

"Okay. Here's the plan," he started, but Y/n was unfocused, staring down the hallway over his shoulder.

"Lockwood?"

"You figure out where the Source is, I'll hold it off-"

"Lockwood?"

"-and then we'll be out of here and back home with a cup of tea within the hour."

"LOCKWOOD!"

"What? Why are you shou-"

Y/n grabbed his face in both of their hands, pushing him around to see what was behind him.

"Shit," he said, paling. Where there had only been a single Limbless to deal with before, the number of Visitors had gone up, with Shades and Lurkers that the owner had mentioned earlier joining the now two Limbless that were hovering at the end of the hallway. The feeling of miasma was washing over the two of them like a tidal wave, and Y/n pressed a hand to their mouth to try and stop throwing up. "We can still do this?" he said, although it sounded more like a question than an inspirational chat to his teammate.

"Lockwood, we need to just go. There's no way we can do this on our own, your pride be damned."

"Okay, okay. We'll collect as much of our kit as we can then, a lot of it is new and I don't want it being wasted. Do you think you're up for it? You look very ill," he frowned, concern for Y/n working its way into every movement of his body.

"Can't we just ditch the kit and get out?"

"As much as I'd love to, we are incredibly under equipped right now and have to pass through the kitchen anyway. We'd do well to have a few extra supplies on us, don't you think?" His voice was gentle, nothing condescending about his question, and Y/n found themselves nodding when he searched their eyes for an answer. His whole body relaxed, and then he was grabbing their hand and slowly retreating towards the kitchen, hoping not to alert the Visitors to their presence.

They were doing well, nearly past the kitchen threshold, up until Lockwood brushed his thumb over the back of Y/n's hand and they stumbled slightly, scuffing their foot on the floorboards and kicking a cabinet.

The Limbless (both of them) snapped their bloated heads to face the two agents, and Lockwood and Y/n only had a brief second to share a look when the ghosts came soaring towards them before he was tugging them into the kitchen, slamming the door behind them and rushing past the counter.

"Pick up what you can, anything to defend yourself with!" he shouted, wheeling around to grab a bag. They made a move towards the iron chains and added a ring to the circle that they'd already made, doubling up the strength of the invisible wall, then dragged in the kit they could reach and stood within the circle.

"Lockwood! Get in here!"

He made a mad dash for them, eyes wide and face flushed from the cold that was now creeping in to the kitchen. "Okay, what now? We'll be protected for a little while but we can't stay for-"

"Calm down, alright? We can sort out our kit in here, quickly, and then use the back door just there. We might have to leave some of these chains behind though, they're pretty heavy."

"Temperature's dropped significantly. That's not a good sign. Do you think there are more hauntings in here?"

"I wouldn't put it past this place. Besides, it's eleven. The others all came out quite early." They crouched down, starting to work methodically through the bags, but Lockwood stayed standing.

"What would I do without you, hey?"

Y/n tried not to flush at the compliment, remembering that the previous two times they'd been caught up in analysing everything that happened between the two of them they'd invoked danger, and continued going through the bags. "Can you help please? Instead of standing there like a lemon."

It took them five minutes to finish up, bags being zipped and thrown over shoulders, belts checked for stock and rapiers drawn. They would have to leave the chains behind, which was a shame, but necessary if they wanted to be able to move quickly. "On three?" Lockwood asked, glancing over his shoulder to check with Y/n. They nodded, bracing themselves for the run. Lockwood started counting down, and just as he said "Three" the kitchen door blew off its hinges.

~~~

"Shit! Go!" A Poltergeist, manifesting in the kitchen and manipulating the room if the many knives that were now floating in the air were anything to go by. The back door was only a couple of metres away, but the real question was whether they could outrun the blades.

They almost did, launching themselves out the exit and slamming the door shut behind them, and Lockwood breathed a sigh of relief until he saw the blood on Y/n's arm. "It's fine," they said when they caught him looking, moving away from the door. "We should get out of here."

He didn't say anything, instead sheathing his rapier and dropping the bag he was holding to grab Y/n's face and kiss them. Y/n almost dropped their own things, about to reach up and draw him in further, but he was pulling back before they could, picking up the kit and moving away from the house. "Come on! We need to find a taxi!" Y/n stood gaping at his retreating form before they heard the wailings of some of the Visitors inside and quickly followed after him.

~~~

The taxi ride home was awkward.

Lockwood wasn't looking at Y/n, and they were starting to feel increasingly uncomfortable with the amount of silence that enveloped the two of them.

"I'm sorry," Lockwood said, making Y/n jump slightly even though his voice was quiet.

"...What for?"

"For- I shouldn't have- I- For kissing you." He still wasn't looking at them, so he couldn't see the stifled smile on their face.

"It's okay, Lockwood."

"No, I should have just got us out of there instead of- I put us in danger and that was stupid of me," he turned to face them, expression earnest. "And I don't even know how you..." he trailed off, blushing.

"It wasn't... I wouldn't mind doing it again, if that's... where you're going?" Y/n was surprised at the confidence they had to admit that, given how bad they were normally at expressing their feelings for him. Lockwood blushed slightly, his cheeks tinted pink, and his eyes widened.

"Uh- okay," he said, hiding his smile behind his hand as he braced his elbow on the door. "Are you sure you're okay? You're bleeding a lot."

"I'm sure it's fine. I think it's only shallow, and most of the blood is dried now. If it'll make you feel better you can bandage me up when we get back."

"Okay. I'll put the kettle on, too. I really need a cup of tea right now."

~~~

True to his word, Lockwood put the kettle on the stove and grabbed two mugs out of the cupboard before heading to the bathroom for the medical kit. He then patched Y/n's arm up (who was right about it only being shallow, but that didn't stop Lockwood fussing over them), concentrating far more than he needed to but taking his time with the dressing in a way that made Y/n's heart flutter at his attentiveness.

Now they sat at the kitchen table with steaming mugs of tea, a plate of biscuits between them as they talked about both everything and nothing, the sun rising and casting the kitchen in a golden light. At some point Lucy appeared, making herself her own cup of tea and heading back upstairs to the attic afterwards, murmuring a sleepy 'morning' to her friends as she shut the door behind her.

Y/n shut their eyes, soaking in the freshly made cup of tea (Lucy had made a large pot for the three of them) and the small warmth that the sun pouring through the window provided. They could feel Lockwood watching them, and sure enough when Y/n cracked an eye open he was focused on them, a soft smile on his face while he sipped his tea. "What?" they asked, a smile of their own forming.

"Nothing. You just look really... really pretty."

"Pretty?" Y/n asked, and Lockwood blushed a little, spluttering as he tried to explain himself.

"I don't know how else to describe you! I can come up with something else if you'd prefer, I just thought it fit! You know, with the light on your face and you looked really peaceful and lovely and..." he trailed off into unintelligible mumbles, turning to stare at the thinking cloth instead of Y/n's face as his blush grew brighter. They laughed in response, leaning forward across the small space between them to grab Lockwood by the tie and pull him in for a kiss. It was short and sweet, but still left the two of them breathless and flushed, and the resultant smile on Lockwood's face was well worth the amount of nervous butterflies in Y/n's stomach.

"You're pretty too, Lockwood."

#lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood x you

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dearlyjoonie · 1 year

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Cross Your Mind | KNJ (18+)

Pairing: idol!namjoon x writer!reader

Genre: romance / friends to lovers / slow burn / smut

Warnings: none!

Word Count: 1.5k

Synopsis: after being ghosted one too many times, you start to think that maybe love and relationships just aren’t in the cards for you. that is, until your friend confesses something that he’s been hiding from you, you start to change your mind.

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To be added to my taglist: click here!

author's note: it's my birthday today! 🥳 im getting to the age now where birthday's aren't as much fun anymore, but it's still worth celebrating and enjoying the special day. i recently made a taglist (with the help of @souryoong even in spite my vast expanse of computer knowledge, i had no idea how to make one haha) that way you guys can be tagged whenever i post an update, since i feel like most of you guys aren't seeing my posts. can't have that happen :( anyway, i hope you enjoy this chapter! as always, let me know what you think (my inbox/asks are always opened!) and i am going to go eat my weight in vegan chocolate cake. enjoy! p.s. of course i had to make namjoon read little women in this chapter, because it’s one of my favorite books ever & I just picture him loving it too. <3

Chapter 5

“I cannot believe you let me drink so much,” You speak over the phone to Jimin, as you pop two aspirin and take a gulp of water.

“Oh c’mon, we were having fun!” Jimin replies, laughing. Hearing him almost makes you laugh, but you wince in pain when it makes your head hurt.

“Yeah, I was having fun, until I woke up with a pounding headache this morning.” You say, as you sit down at your desk in front of your computer.

“Sorry… Yoongi warned me to cut you off after the third, I should have listened,” He continued. “Anyway, what are you up to today?”

“Other than nursing a slight hangover,” You chuckle. “I’m working, even though it’s the last thing I want to do right now. I can barely stand to even look at my computer.” You groan.

“Well if you’re working I’ll let you go then,” Jimin sweetly says. “I was actually going to get to bed anyway.”

You glance at your clock on your computer and realize that it is, in fact, 7:30 am.

“Jimin, you stayed up all night?!” You reply, your eyes widening. You’re shocked, but not really. After all, he did this all the time.

“Yeah,” He laughs at your reaction. “Jungkook and I both did.”

You shake your head.

“I don’t know how you guys do it.”

“Anyway, I’m going to go.” Jimin says. “Hopefully you feel better soon.”

“Yeah, I hope so. Honestly, a nap on my couch later is sounding better and better,” You laugh.

“Goodnight.” You say sarcastically and you both laugh before you hang up.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You wake up to the sound of knocking at your door, and you groan in annoyance as you roll off of your couch.

“What the hell?” You mumble to yourself as you comb your fingers through your hair in an attempt to look presentable for whoever was at your door.

Sliding on your slippers that sat next to the couch, you go to the door, and in your slightly-groggy state you're surprised to see Namjoon standing in the doorway when you open it.

“Joon, what are you doing here?” You say, stepping back to allow him to walk in. He’s wearing his glasses, dressed in sweats, and you’re slightly jealous of how he can look so effortlessly cool, when you probably look like a wreck.

“I was out for a walk, and I thought I’d stop by,” Namjoon replies as he walks inside, and you glance down to realize that he has a leash in his hand, and a white dog trails in behind him. “I called you, but you didn’t answer.”

“I was taking a nap, I had a headache earlier,” You shut the door, then look down at Moni and smile.

“You brought Moni with you.”

You crouch down on the floor to unhook him from his leash, and as soon as you do he’s immediately licking at your face.

“Yeah, I figured he missed you,” Namjoon laughs. “I think he likes you more than he likes me.”

He smiles as you give Moni a kiss on his head, and he settles on the ground comfortably by your feet before you stand up again, and you notice that Namjoon appears concerned now.

“Are you feeling okay though? Are you sick?” He questions, as his eyes seem to examine you to see if you’re really okay.

“Yeah Joon, I’m fine. I just drank too much at your party.” You laugh, playfully shoving his chest, earning a laugh from Namjoon.

“I had fun though, I just wished I could’ve seen more of you last night.”

Your words make Namjoon’s heart pound in his chest.

You wanted to see him?

“Anyway,” You change the subject. “Guess what I did today.” You’re anxiously waiting for him to respond, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

“What? I know it’s something good,” Namjoon smirks back at you knowingly. “I can tell by the look on your face.”

“I finished my book.” You reply, beaming with pride.

“You what?” Namjoon’s eyes go wide as a smile appears on his face, and he can’t help but pull you in for a hug. “Oh y/n, I’m so proud of you.”

“I know,” You reply as he lets go. “It’s already sent out and everything. I’m so happy I could cry, isn’t that silly?” You embarrassingly laugh, as you rub your eyes with the sleeve of your sweatshirt to wipe away the tears that are already forming.

“No, no, don’t cry,” Namjoon says gently, rubbing your shoulders to calm you down. “Even if it’s over something good, I don’t want to see you cry.”

You smile at him, “I know, I know,” You start, “I cry over everything. I’ve been hanging out with Jimin too much.” You earn a laugh from Namjoon.

“I’ll let you read a little bit of it if you want,” You say. “But only one chapter, I want you to be surprised when you read it.”

“That’s it?” Namjoon pouts. “C’mon…”

“Nope.” You shake your head. “Now c’mon.” You start to walk to your office, and Namjoon smiles to himself as Moni gets up to follow you.

You open up your manuscript on your computer and turn around to call Namjoon over to sit down and read it, when you notice he’s distracted himself looking at your bookshelf.

“I didn’t know you had all these books.” Namjoon says, as his eyes wander the expanse of books on the shelves.

“Yeah, I’ve been kind of on a book buying spree lately, kind of like somebody else I know.” You reply. Namjoon tries to hide his smile but his dimples give it away.

“Some of them I have had for a while though.”

He picks up a book and thumbs through it, noticing all your highlights and notes in the margins.

“You highlight stuff in these?” He questions.

“Yeah, mostly stuff I’m inspired by, like quotes and stuff,” You nod. “Or just things I like.”

He puts the book back on the shelf, then picks up your copy of Little Women, a favorite of yours.

“That one’s one of my favorites,” You say, noticing the book he has in his hands. “I’ve read it a bunch of times.”

“I know, I remember you talking about it,” Namjoon replies, as he begins to thumb through it. “I’ve actually never read it before.”

“Really?” You’re actually surprised, since Namjoon read a ton of books, sometimes even more than you, and you often wondered how he had the time since he was usually so busy working.

“You can borrow it if you want. You should read it, I think you’d like it.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You’re sound asleep when you’re awoken at 1 am to your phone vibrating. You grab your phone off your nightstand to realize that it’s Namjoon calling you.

“Joon? Do you know what time it is?” You answer, your voice heavily laced with sleep.

“I know, I’m sorry to wake you,” Namjoon apologizes, and he sounds wide awake. You can’t help but wonder what he’s been doing all night.

“I wanted to talk to you about the book.”

Reading. He’s been reading all night.

“You called me at 1 am to talk to me about the book?” You laugh. “Namjoon, it’s 1 o’clock in the morning.” You hear him laugh on the other line.

You sit up in your bed, rubbing your eyes to try and wake up a little. “So, let’s hear it. What do you think so far?”

“You were right.” Namjoon says and you smile.

“You like it?” You ask him, eager to hear his opinion on your favorite book.

“Yeah, a lot. I can see why it’s your favorite.” Namjoon replies. “I really like this Jo character actually, she reminds me a lot of you.” He smiles.

“Oh really?” Your heart glows at his compliment, at least it’s a compliment to you. After all, she is your favorite of the March sisters.

“How so?”

“Her personality, just the way she acts.” He says. “Like when Amy burned Jo’s manuscript, and to get back at her she almost let her drown in the frozen lake. I feel like that’s something you’d do if someone did that to you.”

You can’t help but laugh. “You think I would do that?”

“Yeah,” He laughs. “I know you’d be just as upset if someone did something like that to you.”

“I can’t believe you’re that far in the book already,” You say, once you realize how much of the book he’s actually read.

“Are you kidding? I haven’t been able to put it down.” Namjoon replies. “So, what I don’t understand is why Jo is going to New York. Doesn’t she have like… a thing for Laurie?”

“She’s avoiding him. She thinks he loves Amy.” You answer, smiling to yourself as you await his response.

“What? No way. They have to end up together. It’s obvious.” Namjoon says in disbelief.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” You chuckle, then glance at your clock and realize what time it is.

“God, how is it already almost 3 am?”

“Is it really?” Namjoon answers, as he checks his phone. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. We’ve been talking about this book for two hours.” He laughs.

“Joon, I have to go to bed,” You yawn, laying down in your bed again. “We can talk about this more tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Namjoon replies. “I suppose I will let you get back to sleep.”

You laugh. “Goodnight, Namjoon.”

“Goodnight.” Namjoon smiles, as you both hang up.

Tags: @moretwice @souryoong

#bts fanfiction #bts namjoon #bts smut #bts x reader #kim namjoon #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon fanfic

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ethoglrl · 9 months

Text

Adding more onto my Eyes Ears and Mouths AU (btw I made a silly little tag for it so like.. if you follow it you'll see when I post more oooooo)

So guys.. consider more info on the triplets (Pearl, Grian and Jimmy) and their backstory...

Tw for mentions of like. Difficulty getting food(?) and parental death/abandonment

----- (idk how to do a break so you have to hit "read more" to keep going im new to Tumblr bare with me here)

Pearl, Grian and Jimmy, the triplets.. their parents dead (or maybe the three just assumed they were dead.. who knows :3) and them newly orphaned, around 6..

Them three struggling for food, shelter.. everything. Hanging out in malls and small shops until they were kicked out, trying to beg for food while staying away from any law enforcement - they've heard how bad foster care could be once you were too old and how they'd split you up and they didn't even wanna try it

Them three sometimes having to split up to keep from getting caught, going to different parts of the city, whether for few hours, or days.. or weeks.. sometimes even months if they couldn't find each other. They all hated the separation, but they knew it was better than being split up permanently if they were caught

Pearl, having not only been the oldest but also looking a couple of years older than the other two, had gotten a couple of jobs young, around 13 or 14. She could never keep them long, hence the stealing even still. Besides, when you're working at a small corner store (think like a 7-11) it's easy enough to steal without many people raising eyebrows. But, eventually, she was always caught and fired, and bounced from job to job, never giving any references since she knew what they'd say, and just hoping they'd be desperate enough to hire this (appearance-wise) 15-16 year old without any proof of age or references or.. anything

She never told her brothers about any of the stealing, like where the food came from, or how she got Jimmy and Grian a slice of pie to share around their birthdays, or how one day she came home with a beaten up.. thing ("it's called a gameboy, you can play games on it .... no not games like tag, Jimmy"). She just said she was getting luckier with her begging and that's why she kept coming home much later than when she ended work

At about 15 (it was hard to count the days, but they knew their birthday was during summer) Pearl tells Jimmy. He could run faster than Grian, which mattered in a bad case scenario. Those two stealing while Grian kept begging, getting them some loose change that they saved in a plastic bag they once found, hoping to use it to get warmer clothes or blankets if they couldn't find any during winter

Eventually, maybe about 6 months after she told Jimmy, Pearl tells Grian about her stealing, and he helps. The three would clean up as best they could (so as to seem normal) then go into a mall or a small corner store and figure out what to steal. Only one would steal, the other two would be more like backup in case things went wrong

Now.. in this world, many people had powers (yet another reason they were scared of law enforcement. You never knew who would have a power that was super speed, or could freeze you still, making it easy for them to be taken into foster care) but the triplets.. didn't think they had any

Most people discovered their powers as children, even if they couldn't get the hang of them until they were adults or teenagers, but the triplets couldn't remember any time that they've had a power, so they assumed they were all powerless, which did make things more difficult but, they still got by and that's what mattered

Until one fateful day when Jimmy tries to steal a jacket to help them for the winter (even if it's a rather thin jacket)

He tries to run to the exit doors of the mall, where he can simply run among the cars and hopefully get lost, but before he can make it he gets tackled to the ground. He tries to escape the mall cop's grasp, he can't get caught and he knows there's only so long until more show up. Grian and Pearl started running over but before they could make it..

Bright yellow feathers sprouted from their brother's head, and they would see feathery wings flapping, trying to help him push up from the hard tile floor of the mall. They also saw ears floating around Jimmy's head which.. confused them. They stopped in their tracks, both confused on how the fuck their brother just transformed into some bird being when.. they were all powerless, weren't they?

Before they could get over their confusion and go over to help Jimmy, they see some ears float into the man's ears, and then the man froze. They saw Jimmy still kicking, scratching - doing anything he could to get out of the man's arms, but.. something was off with Jimmy's hands

The ends of his fingers turned into claws.. no, talons, black as the darkest night, the darkness going up his fingers where it ended.. and they could see blood coming from the man as Jimmy scratched him. And although Jimmy didn't notice it at the time, he could hear every single conversation going on in the mall, and he'd remember them all too

Pearl and Grian finally got over their shock and ran over, pulling Jimmy out of the man's grasp and the three of them running for the exit, Jimmy still holding onto the jacket and going back to his human form

When they got.. for lack of a better term, "home" (pretty much just the warmest spot they could find in an alley) they finally stopped running, and then the three finally let out their questions and confusion, although they didn't have any answers yet

Jimmy noticed how the other two treated him a bit differently after his transformation, and it worried him that one day he'd wake up and they'd be gone (Jimmy always handled separation the worst) but Pearl and Grian never considered that, they were just scared of angering Jimmy, of him attacking them like he had the man (they had all seen the news footage from a tv store, of a "yellow-feathered avian attacking a mall cop", and had seen the aftermath of the man when it was shown. They just got lucky that none of the mall's cameras had gotten a good look at Jimmy's face)

Next was Pearl. She had been running from a cop after stealing some bread, Jimmy and Grian being back at their "house" for the day, her legs so tired, almost giving out, panting for breath, unsure how the cop managed to go on but she could tell they weren't gonna stop soon.. she was slightly panicked, unsure of what to do. She couldn't let herself get caught, couldn't let her younger brothers' down.. and then, next thing she knew, she was flying, flapping wings behind her and leaving the ground

As she finally took a much needed breath, she saw the cop staring at her, mouth agape, and she flew as quick as she could (a bit wobbly but she slowly got it) to get back to her brothers, landing in the alley and seeing just how surprised and.. mildly scared they were hurt. She realized she must've made Jimmy feel this way too after he transformed.. but, as she calmed down from her panic, she went back to her human form, and told the story of how she transformed to the other too, and apologized to Jimmy for how she treated him

After that, Pearl and Jimmy tried getting Grian's powers to activate, since if they both had nearly the same thing, surely Grian did too? But no matter how hard they tried, Grian just.. didn't transform

It took to the point of Grian, Jimmy and Pearl nearly getting attacked by people who their stealing had affected for Grian to finally unlock his power. And as he transformed, the attackers ran in fright, but a few of Grian's Watchers (those little eyes, remember) followed them, shooting at them until Grian calmed down enough and they came back, disappearing to wherever with the rest

After this, the triplets worked on their powers, trying to learn of them, whether to use as a defensive measure or offensive one, but either way, it was a way to help them. Not to mention they were curious. They wanted to learn of their abilities, rather then ignoring them, as they've never seen anything like their transformations and the eyes/ears/mouths that float around their heads before

So, they learned how to trigger their powers, and practiced fighting against each other (which yes, has caused more than it's fair share of deep cuts and bed rest after but.. they needed to practice. If they couldn't defeat someone their age and roughly their size, how could they defeat a cop?) fighting or practicing triggering their transformations whenever they could, and they got pretty damn good at it too, using them whenever they were being chased or attacked without hesitation

So, for years they were small thieves, living on the streets, saving up for more, sometimes selling things they had for money. And, a few years later (and maybe a wobbly robbery but shhh they were never caught) they had enough finally for a small apartment. They would all sleep, curled up together for heat, and they cleaned up and all got jobs after getting an ID, slowly but surely. And, they (mostly) stopped stealing, not needing the food as much (usually) and they became more "normal" citizens

Well.. until one day....

-----

And bam! That's what I've got for today :3 y'all better not get too used to daily posts cause after work during the week I doubt I'll have enough energy to post but I'll try to post at least once on the weekends!!

Don't forget to follow the AU tag (Eyes Ears and Mouths AU) to see when I post or even just follow me since I doubt I'll post much else here (I don't know how to do a Tumblr)

#eyes ears and mouths AU #watcher grian #speaker pearl #listener jimmy #hermitcraft grian #hc grian #jimmy solidarity #solidaritygaming #pearlescentmoon #hc pearl #sky duo #cursed trio #cod duo #bad omens duo

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yooniesim · 1 year

Note

OK so I agree completely with what Rheall said in that post that no one is above anyone in this community and I get the clique is an illusion sentiment. But you have to admit that when the smaller simblrs watch “Bruce the Dolphin” go round and round the same 30 people what are they supposed to think? Or when they watch simblrs with higher notes re-blog only from other simblrs with the same amount of notes.

We tell them to reblog and interact because you know the more popular simblrs are the same as us but I just think maybe sometimes all of us can do better at cultivating this community. It is nice to reblog posts saying everyone here is valid but how many put that sentiment really into practice?

Well except for the black simblr community. Y’all already do this. Whether someone in large or small, young or old, vanilla or alpha (and everything in between) they are welcomed. Replies and asks are answered and smaller simblrs are reblogged and shouted out. The rest of the community could really take some notes.

Sorry I have been in this community for a long time and just had to to get this off my chest. You don’t even need to reply if you don’t want to. Hopefully you are having a great day even with my word vomit!

Yeah, I do agree with this too nonny (which is why I added some additional tags on that post).

I'm not gonna put words in her mouth or anything cos I can't say, but it felt like maybe she was describing some of the better parts of this community? When you don't interact with or just block certain blogs, your time here gets exponentially better in my experience, it becomes a lot closer to the ideal. But that also goes along with what she said about trying your best not to focus on the notes. Because the fact of the matter is, a lot of the really bigger blogs are kind of assholish, and if you really want a lot of notes regularly you gotta kiss tip to stay in their circle (or somewhat adjacent) and not ostracized/hit with the chain block. And the people that really care about notes will stay walking on eggshells to stay there no matter what happens which creates that toxic, clique-like environment imo. This goes for both of the bigger chunks of the community which I tend to separate between cc makers and non-cc makers in my head. That's just how it is and I don't think that's going to change.

In reality, I think making your experience here better is a mix of the two ideas. Following Rheall's advice is a really good idea and I highly encourage it. But also, you do have to be a little picky about who you interact with in the first place. This is why I'd actually encourage talking a lot to people that are smaller rather than trying to aim for people with huge followings. They're more likely to be friendly and willing to encourage you and spread your posts, and you can gain awesome friends that way. They're less likely to be focused on popularity and more likely to say what they really think. Yes, no one here on simblr is better than anyone else, we're all the same- but some people do think they are better than everyone else, sadly. There's some big egos and nasty souls in this community that simply aren't worth getting wrapped up in, even if they treat you nice for a minute or get you some extra notes. I'm not going to say notes don't matter, we all know they do; but what I'm saying is, I'd rather some real genuine comments from my mutuals than a thousand silent reblogs from people that don't give 1 shit about me, you know? Or a reblog from someone that would turn around and blast me with waves of anon hate cos I disagreed with them. It's not worth it.

Instead, you have no choice but to work hard to cultivate your community for yourself. That includes a) what Rheall mentioned, reaching out to others and being kind, and b) blocking those that display the behaviors you mentioned above. Because you can't make the mistake of expecting them to change- they won't. If I see someone only reblogging from the same people & the same 500+ note posts over and over again, ignoring people in the comments and only speaking to the same people, and constantly circlejerking to nauseating amounts, I just block them. If I see a huge creator that only posts their paywalled cc, never interacts, and ignores the people using & gushing over their content, I block them. And what seems like closing a door is actually opening another. Even now, simblr is a big place, and blocking those blogs won't shut you off from the best part of it. It just blocks that behavior from your view and allows other simblrs and subsets of our community to shine.

I think why black simblr is so good at this is the fact that we are a smaller section of the community, relatively. It's more niche and tight-knit, and there's also a variety of tags you can use to find more. And while some of this section is fairly large (I would say more medium size follower wise), you will notice that most of the super big simblrs are not black simblrs. Or at least, don't interact as much with that subset of the community. You also notice this with most of the big cc creators being non-black as well. (I actually think black simblr is often used as a talking point for more notes at best or punching bag at worst for a lot of big simblr, but that's another discussion entirely.) Common niches will always stick together and promote better in simblr, whether that's based on race or by common interests, such as royal simblrs, simblrs that like kpop, etc. Find simblrs that are similar to you, and that can very well be a launching point to being part of a community you didn't even know was there.

I feel like I'm repeating myself a bit, but what I take away from the discussion as a whole, is not that notes don't matter. Not caring about them can be really hard, that's valid and makes perfect sense for all of us. But more that, what you have to do to get them quickly and consistently, what you have to do to stay there, and the toll on your mental health because of it is not worth it. I have interacted with all kinds of simblrs here in my time, big and small, and a lot of what you see at the perceived "top of the top" is just ugly. There's a lot of jealously, resentment, contempt, and burn-out brewing up there, usually built up from sitting in that same place for years. There's a sense of bitter cynicism that leaves a bad taste in your mouth just from being around it. And it's very easy to get sucked into that and the negativity too, I know that myself. Even though some may joke or mock anyone for talking about it and brush it off as being not that deep or whatever, it's true. It's really not a place or mindset you want to be in.

Apologies for word vomiting back at you so badly lol, but I'll try to wrap it up now. I just really think that, while I wish the dynamics of simblr would change as a whole, that just isn't going to happen. The Reblog Debate comes up every half a year and every time everyone says the same thing and the bigger simblrs cat fight with the smaller simblrs and the vague posts fly out by the thousands and nothing changes either way. The only solution is, honestly, to just aim low and find a few good mutuals here and that's it. Anything more, well, that's a pleasant surprise- right?

#asks #anonymous #ceci speaks #nonsims #ceci speaks a lot more #is this my first long post of 2023?#i told yall i changed 😂#ty for sending this nonny #i enjoyed having a think #and i agree with what u said #especially about black simblr #edit:#i want to add that i had to ask what Bruce the dolphin was lmfao #i had no idea #i consider this an achievement of my extensive blocklist #😂

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little-tyrant-gortash · 4 months

Text

Oathbreaker

Pairing: fem!Tav x Enver Gortash, fem!Tav/Astarion

Tags: Emotional Manipulation, Manipulation, Manipulative Relationship, Paladin Tav (Baldur's Gate), Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Drunk Sex, Unrequited Love, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Scars, Blood and Injury, Injury, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Miscarriage, Torture, Psychological Torture, Implied/Referenced Torture

Word count: 1,504

Ao3 here.

Chapter 1.

Chapter 2.

Chapter 3.

Chapter 4.

Chapter 5.

Chapter 6.

Chapter 7. ⬇

Chapter 8.

Notes: The flu kicked my ass bad. I wanted to post this days ago. Sorry for the delay! I'm feeling better, so, hopefully, I'll have more energy to write. :3

Chapter 7: Three Conditions

The expression he donned was indescribable. Tav could detect so many things in the very same moment: regret, rage, boastfulness and then… sadness. Settling on a scowl one mere second later though, Enver shook his head.

"She'd rather gut me than letting me even consider fixing it."

"I'll talk to her."

Gortash stared at her for a long moment.

"On three conditions."

"Three?!"

"You've heard me."

Tav fought hard not to roll her eyes. She crossed her arms in front of herself with an expectant look on her face. Three conditions - they weren't much to give in exchange for her friend's life, but if it came to Gortash, who knew what he might ask for… Tav probably wouldn't sell her soul to a devil to save her, but she was willing to give this a try. After all, he couldn't claim her soul, at least, and that was a relief…

What was the worst to happen?

"I'm listening."

"One", Gortash raised his right index finger, then pointed at the Reaper's Embrace, "you're wearing the armour from now on."

Something stirred within her. What did he do to the armour, really? Why was it so important for him? She wondered… what was that dark purple gemstone he put in it's claws right over where one's heart would be?

Given the nature of their meetings Tav was trying to believe he wouldn't pull anything malicious when it came to her. But she couldn't be entirely certain. He'd tricked an innocent bard, after all, offering her gold in exchange for her "voice" – only for her to end up as a brain in a box. Surely, Tav shouldn't let her guards down, because she might find herself without a body, too.

That was the worst to happen.

She shuddered.

Still, she'd need Karlach with her, and perhaps she'd… tolerate Gortash more if he did them all such a favour. He'd ultimately save Karlach's life – of course, after he'd majorly fucked it up for her. In any case, if Tav wanted to really bring the fight to Orin, she needed Karlach. That was non-negotiable.

In short… she had no choice. Try and trust Gortash, or die.

"Fine. I'll wear it."

"Two: you'll visit me every day for dinner." Tav nearly smiled, as it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. She could have the others stay at an inn and she'd sneak out every night without anyone knowing… that should do the trick. Free meals? So far, every meal she'd eaten with him was glorious. She'd be mad to turn that down. "And", he added when he sensed she was looking at it as good news, "we will work on your traumas to toughen you up."

The absurdity of it all!

"You have absolutely no idea what I had to face", she couldn't help it, she snapped. "The things I've seen and done-"

"Exactly", he nodded, "and we need to get those out of the way. You can't feel vulnerable in Bhaal's temple. We can't allow that to happen."

"I can take care of myself. Always did, always will."

"I know that, but will you allow me to do the same for you? You don't have to do this all alone."

She stared at him for a few long seconds, trying to determine how serious he was about this.

"Dinner sounds nice, the other – not."

Gortash knew he'd need to be cruel. This was, really, a small price to pay in the long run. If she could get rid of Orin for him, and brought him the Netherstones… he was willing to sacrifice his free time to work on her, so she could withstand anything she might face.

"You either do this for me, or I'm not fixing Karlach's engine. It's up to you."

She wanted to snarl at him for being so stubborn. He reminded her of Raphael, bringing back an old memory; that how Mol had freedom… to choose 'freely' the only one choice she had. Tav growled lowly.

"Okay. What else do you want to extort from me?"

Gortash smirked at her question.

"A kiss. Not now", he held his right hand up, then motioned between them, "on my own terms. Where I want, when I want."

Tav furrowed her brows, sensing some sort of trick. And, at the same time, she hated everything about him, even the motions he made with his hand when he was talking. Not for long enough, though.

"One single kiss?"

"Yes."

"That's it?"

"Yes", he nodded, and chuckled quietly at her confused expression.

"Fine", she ran a hand in her hair. "Anything else? Or are you finished taking everything from me?"

"My dear, the payments I require are nothing in comparison to what I'm ready to do... for you." He reached out to touch her towel clad waist, and pulled her close to himself before he kissed her deeply. Tav nearly melted at his confidence, in his embrace. She reached up to touch his face, and gently ran her thumb over his scar on his chin. Enver hummed before he pulled away. "It's late, and it's dangerous outside. Stay for the night."

"Do I have a choice?" She asked playfully.

"No", he smirked as his hand slid down on her body and grabbed her ass.

"I'd like to remind you that I do not belong to you", Tav murmured, trying hard to look just as confident as he did, but his closeness and his hands on her body were distracting.

"You needn't remind me. You're not cattle." Cocking a brow, his eyes darkened with something different, something she knew from their previous 'meetings'.

"Glad to hear that", she purred softly.

As a reply, Gortash grabbed the towel at her back and yanked it away from her form before he reached down and picked her up. She gasped as she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist and arms around his neck.

"…again?" Enver huffed in her neck, making her giggle when his breath tickled her skin.

"Oh, yes~"

It did not take long for him to relocate them in yet another lavish bedroom, but she didn't even really care where they were. He could've taken her in a bedroll in the middle of nowhere with nothing but their dinner to their names; the way he could make her feel was otherworldly and utterly dangerous.

Later on, she was thinking about that if anyone told her a month ago that she'd be laying comfortably in the arms of the Chosen of Bane, she would've laughed hysterically.

And yet, there she was. Nestled warmly against him. Tucked in, his arms and his blanket around her form. In his bed. In his bedroom. In his bloody palace.

And she'd never felt safer in her entire life.

Tav listened to the way he was breathing; rhythmically, calmly, his last words still hanging in the air when he was dancing between being awake and asleep.

"Together... we will be great."

He'd given her no reason to believe he was lying. So far, everything about him was surprisingly good; from their shared meals to the sheets, Gortash paid a lot of attention to what she liked. She didn't even need to say it out loud, and he knew. As if it was second nature for him. As if it was in his best interests to keep her satisfied and happy.

And it was, in fact, done in his best interests. He was doing this all to make her obey him. To make her submit to his will. To guide her. To prevent her from ever betraying him.

A part of her wanted to give in. She wouldn't need to do much, just follow his lead; let his hand guide her wherever he wanted her to be. Perhaps it'd be best, really; she was growing tired of being the leader, trying to hold her little band of vagabonds together, trying to figure out their next steps, trying to keep peace within the camp. Especially after how Astarion had left them. It'd be so much easier if she could just... lay back and let someone else do the brain work for once.

But she also was aware that Gortash was a Banite; the very Chosen of the God of Darkness, a god who valued people who crushed the weak under their boot.

Did Gortash see her weak? Was she?

Tav's brows twitched as she was questioning herself. From a point of view, she was. Gortash never needed to do much to get under her skin, but that wasn't entirely his fault. She simply couldn't help herself when she saw those dark eyes, messy hair and thick lips of his. And his voice. Gods, his voice. His brilliant, wonderful mind and well put-together plans - the fact he was ready to share everything he earned for himself with her of all people.

She closed her eyes.

I'll worry about my emotions later, she decided, I shouldn't let them distract me now. I'll enjoy this while it lasts.

#Oathbreaker #little tyrant [enver gortash]#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg 3 #enver gortash #archduke enver gortash #lord enver gortash #fanfic #Oathbreaker fanfic

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ashes-writing · 2 years

Text

sweet emotion pt three | stranger things ; e.munson

A/N ; Like yesterday's post for Gareth's reader fic... This is not where I intended to go with this, not at all. But, I've been kinda giving the boys their little moments -because I can and I want to, so I guess it was just his turn today. Hopefully, you guys are enjoying these.

I promise, the next part is going to have brother sister moments in it for Dustin. Because I do really want to write the after to this, where they're watching movies together at Eddie's place or something...

Seriously, y'all have no idea just how much your feedback means and how much it really makes me heart happy, even if it's just a like or whatever. I'm not picky at all. I'll be honest, most of the time I really don't think anything I do share is gonna like.. go anywhere beyond merely getting out of my head. So when you guys take the time to read it, it blows me away. Thank you. Love you all! -Ashes

Pairing ; Eddie MunsonxHenderson!Fem reader

Timeline / Other Stuff to Note ; part I - part II can both be found by clicking. It's probably a good idea to go back and read those before this. Or be crazy and read this first then those, nobody's gonna know. The upside down + it's unholy terrors and Eddie's death do not occur here despite it being set in 86. Everyone is age appropriate, btw, reader is 18 and in Eddie's grade so there's like.. a year age gap. This isn't going to be as much of a slow burn as Steve's henderson!fem or Gareth's princess/rich girl!fem because frankly, I feel like maybe it'll be cute if it happens a little quicker (i love him and i'm impatient tbh.)

Tag List ; @musichealsscars @scoobiessnacks @krys-orion @allelitesmut @aries-arcade and @hcloangcls are the only ones on my Stranger Things masterlist. I extend a tag to @rampagewriting --- absolutely ignore if you're too busy or not up to it, no pressure. if you'd like to be added to my taglists for anything including Stranger Things, please let me know or add yourself -> here.

Warnings ; bit of a gross situation with an older woman being gross towards Eddie while he's playing -making him visibly uncomfortable ; it's hinted that this is repeated behavior, with a confrontation to follow between reader and said woman. Uh... there's just a small hint that reader kind of fesses up -without really doing so, the way she feels. Lots of internalization and these two just being touchy-feely and cute.

Other Stuff ; tag list doc || my rules - fandoms and some characters I write for || requests are open -> send me things. [headcanon asks, filth or fluff alphabet only + no wrestling asks ]. I beg. I plead.. The inbox is still open.

I do not consent to my work being reposted elsewhere or copied/reworked/rewritten and reposted here or elsewhere. You don't own this, I do. So like... don't steal my shit.

There are more people than you thought there would be and the second you’re standing in the parking lot hugging yourself against the cold wind while Astrid tries and fails to light a cigarette, the more you’re wondering if maybe you shouldn’t have stayed home. Especially when you hear a leggy brunette with a short skirt and a shirt so tight she couldn’t possibly have been able to breathe walks past talking about how she plans on getting railed by the singer in the band tonight.

Astrid rolls her eyes as the brunette vanishes through the door. “He never even looks at her, where she keeps insisting they’ll hook up is totally beyond me.” she’s shivering and her teeth are chattering, “I’m freezin my tits off, c’mon.”

“I..”

“God damn it, woman. There won’t be that many people here. Most of these,” she gestures to the vehicles crammed in the parking lot of the bar, “Are just guys gettin off down at the factory. They never stay.”

You swallow hard and nod. “If you laugh at me I’m giving you a twisted nipple.”

“Yeah, try it. Then I’m gonna yank your panties so hard they bury in your brain stem, woman.” Astrid laughs, sticking her tongue out at you. “Seriously though.. It’s going to be fine. Totally fine.”

“What if he does want her here though? Like… what if when he told me there was going to be a crowd, that was him trying to deter me?” you drag your hand through your hair and you pace a second or two, pausing to gaze at the flickering in the neon on one of the windows.

Astrid snorts. “But he said if you got nervous, you could go backstage. Why would he offer that to begin with if he doesn’t want you here?”

You laugh at yourself and take a long and deep breath. “Okay. Alright. Let’s go inside before I freeze the little bit of ass I do have off.”

“Girl.” Astrid glances back at your butt. “You’re just a walking delusion tonight, hm?”

“Ha. Right.” you stick out your tongue. Astrid pushes open the door to the bar and the two of you wander in. The warmth of the room feels better than the wind outside. Astrid catches sight of Gareth and she breaks her neck to get over to him, climbing him like a tree. “Baby. I missed youuu.” she drawls against his neck. And you’re smiling softly about it, shaking your head because you’re just happy for your best friend and Gareth is a sweet guy.

You shuffle your feet and play with the sleeve of your favorite black button up long sleeve. You catch sight of Eddie but he hasn’t seen you yet. Astrid has disappeared with Gareth and you’re not even about to go try to find her. You take a shaky breath or two and you make your way over to the bar to sit on a stool. Someone has Motley Crue playing in the back where some older men are playing pool on ancient pool tables.

You’re scanning the bar and playing with the sleeve edge of your shirt, zoned out. Edgy because your thing with crowds. You’re assuming that Eddie hasn’t realized you’re here yet ,,-or maybe he’s not looking, I mean c’mon, I saw the brunette with the legs and the boobs.” the thought comes just as you catch sight of Jeff peering out from the back. He ducks back inside the back room really quick and you’re just about to get up and walk… somewhere… but before you get the chance, Eddie’s making his way out, the bandana he normally keeps in his back pocket tying his hair back like a pirate on one of your mom’s book covers and all you can do is stare.

That’s nothing new.

You’re brought round from your daze by Eddie’s deep chuckle. He shakes you a little, tilting his head to look down at you in concern. “You’re okay, right?”

You nod to reassure him and give him your best smile. “I’m fine.” your answer is probably too quiet and definitely a slight falsehood but it can be argued that you’re starting to feel just a little more secure because you’re not alone.

“C’mon.” Eddie’s just noticed one of the rowdier old men slip in. One that doesn’t have a problem hitting on a younger girl because he’s let them take him home before. He grabs hold of your hand and starts to lead you towards the back and you’re laughing. He relaxes a little better when you’re away from the front of the bar.

You were trying to spot what was different besides the bandana tonight and then, it hits you. He’s wearing eyeliner. Tight-line, of course. But it makes bright brown eyes really pop, it makes them seem bigger. And you’re staring all over again. You step closer. The jolt that comes when you’re body to body with him has your breath catching in your throat. You bite your lip as you raise up on your toes. “Are you..” you giggle a little, “You’re wearing eyeliner. Holy shit… your eyes.” you bite your lip to make yourself stop talking.

“Hey!” he frowns. “There’s not a fucking thing wrong with eyeliner.”

“No! It’s not that, it just makes your eyes brighter, I swear that’s all I was getting at.” you ramble and then you scowl at yourself and go quiet as soon as you realize you were doing it. Palming your face. Which Eddie grateful for because you can’t see the stupid, goofy grin on his face.

“Thanks.” he mumbles when he finally pulls himself together. You finally manage to get yourself recovered from the fiasco your mouth and brain refusing to work together has created and you laugh softly. “Do you get nervous? When you play, I mean?”

“I used to. Now I just focus on the music.” Eddie shrugs. It’s the truth. The first time they played a gig here, he was out behind the bar throwing up when he saw the slim crowd. Now he’s done it so much and he knows how to focus on the music instead of any nerves he feels.

And as he answers you, he notes mentally that the music isn’t going to be the only thing he’s focusing on tonight. Because you’re here and he’ll be up there, in a trance. Also, he’ll be making sure that one rowdy regular doesn’t get a second alone with you.

Especially not since you’re wearing that one black shirt that hugs your body and the same jumper dress that you wore earlier in the week with thigh high stockings and your combat boots, which you’re wearing again tonight. And cue him, promptly getting distracted. Stepping closer to you. Doing that thing he does that he probably shouldn’t where he’s got his hands on your hips. It honestly seems like lately, there’s a lot of touching going on between you both.

He’s at least ninety percent sure that yours is nearly all friendly and the occasional bout of anxiety even though Dustin swears that it isn’t, but he knows that his reason personally is just the overwhelming desire to always have some part of his body touching some part of yours.

Especially when there’s a situation happening where you do happen to be a little overwhelmed.

“Dustin said he’d come to watch movies too. I think Mike’s mom was taking them to pick some up when I dropped him off.”

Eddie grins and laughs. “Awesome. They better not get anything lame.” he’s joking, of course but you nod in agreement. “That’s what I told him.”

Then you’re both quiet. And drifting closer together.

Jeff is grinning when he wanders over, reaching out to fluff at your hair, it’s become a thing with the guys because you’re not as tall as they are. Even Gareth is just a little taller than you. And they all think it’s fucking hilarious to fluff your hair or Astrid’s hair.

You stick out your tongue at him and he laughs, turning his attention to Eddie. “We go live in a minute.”

“Gotcha.” Eddie gives him a smirk and a thumbs up. He picks up his guitar and follows the rest of the band out onto the makeshift little stage set up in the front.

You and Astrid make your way out into the crowd and find a place to sit at one of the tables. And almost the second he starts to play Sweet Leaf, you can’t help but gaze up at him and grin brightly, nodding your head along to the song. It’s one of your favorite Ozzy songs of all time. You’re thrashing your head around and having a good time, laughing with Astrid. Forgetting momentarily about the crowd or the way you were freaking out over it a few minutes before.

Up on stage, Eddie’s smiling to himself. Eyes glued to you as he sings and plays his guitar. Watching you smile and thrash your head around, drum the table and just basically bounce in your seat because you’re having so much fun. He’s relieved that you’re not freaking out like you were before he walked out to you. He’s still reeling that you even showed up.

He’d done everything possible not to get his hopes up. But you’re sitting out in the crowd and you’re getting into the music and at one point he even hears you singing along. When he finishes the song you’re on your feet with Astrid, clapping, whistling and laughing.

The brunette that always tries to force herself on him and yells disgusting shit when he’s on stage is there too but tonight, with you being there, it’s so much easier to block her out.

But he’s worried. That you’ll hear her and you’ll be upset or get the wrong impression.

You hear the brunette in the too tight shirt yelling again.

“You realize he’s old enough to be your son, right?” you say it before you can stop yourself because she looks like she’s probably approaching your mom’s age, she’s just… Hot. Like a model on the cover in a magazine. In all the worst ways. All the fake ways.

The brunette must have heard you because she looks right at you. And she smirks. “Aw… is the little baby jealous?”

“Not really, I just think it’s kinda pathetic you’re saying all this shit when you know he’s old enough to be your son. And it’s gross and it’s making him uncomfortable.” you answer with the mildest shrug. Your heart is racing a little, you’re a little nervous because once again, your big mouth has written a check your ass probably can’t cash.

Sensing blood in the water because she sees the way you’re gripping the can of Sprite in your hand, Astrid tugs your sleeve. “After this one we’ll go outside.. So things don’t get bad.”

You nod and smile.

But the brunette’s suggestive remarks turn to downright crude ones and it’s almost as if she’s pushing. Picking at an exposed nerve. And god help you, your jealousy and that hot temper you rightly inherited from Claudia Henderson, those come into play. When you see Eddie cringing at some of the worst shit she’s said, you go to stand.

Astrid grabs your hand and pulls you back down.

“Outside.”

“Yeah,yeah. Okay, alright. Outside.” you mumble.

The band takes a break and Astrid pulls you up, the two of you making a beeline for a door that leads out back of the bar. Once you’re outside, you’re ranting and pacing, letting your irritation at the woman’s behavior be heard.

“It’s just disgusting, I mean.. He’s uncomfortable. It’s pissing me off because I know he’s too damn nice to say anything. But not me. Noooo. I’m going to choke her if she keeps it up.” you’re so caught up in your little rant that you don’t stop and think about what you’re saying and this is probably why you end up sort of halfway revealing that you feel at least something towards Eddie.

And in the midst of it, two things happen.

One, Eddie happens to walk out. But he stays out of sight because he’s at the van, looking for a string for Jeff because one of the strings on Jeff’s guitar broke during their attempt at Ace of Spades. He can hear bits and pieces of what you’re saying in the alley, it’s not like you’re trying to be quiet. He freezes mid-grab when he hears you tell Astrid that you care about him too much to just sit back and listen to the woman being disgusting. And when Astrid laughs and teases gently, “You mean you love him.. Right?” you don’t really say anything.

Which has him curious. And his mind being the way it is, he takes this a thousand different ways. By the time he’s gotten the pack of string for Jeff, he’s halfway convinced himself that if anything, you love him like a friend.. Or maybe, to make it really awkward, you see him as another brother now, because of the bond between him and your own little brother and the way your mother is always quick to invite him over if she sees him out and about in town.

Because that has to be it… Right?

He can’t even fathom the reality being anything else because he’s just… Not used to good things at all.

Two, the older brunette woman in question happens to walk out and she spots you. And she walks right over. Smirk growing wider with each step she takes. “Only pathetic person I see in there is you. Just say you were jealous because he might’ve been looking at me more than you and go, you little bitch. Don’t you know?” she takes a long drag of her cigarette and blows the smoke right at you and you step away, scowling with your arms folded, “The boys in the band only like the girls like me.”

And yes, it does get in your head. It got in your head earlier in the night when you saw her and heard her in the parking lot on your way in. But right now, that’s not the thing that has you furious. She’s making one of your friends uncomfortable. You’re not stupid, you’ve spent enough time hanging around with and tutoring Eddie Munson by this point to know damn well when he’s not comfortable with something and you could see it in his eyes when she got real disgusting and thirsty during that last song before the break.

“Whatever you say.” you’re dismissive. Smirking. “You don’t actually know the guy, by the way.. If you did, you’d have seen the four or five times he looked like he was about to hurl when you felt the need to tell everybody in the bar what you’d let him do to you.” your fist clenches when she steps closer. You’re a breath away from just slapping the taste out of her mouth and the only thing stopping you is the fact that maybe she’s right… Maybe she is his type. You’ve seen the mags in his room that he doesn’t hide well at all. She does kind of resemble at least one of the women on the cover. And it bothers you just a little when the thought arises. Enough so that you don’t do it, you lower your hand before you go through with it.

Astrid steps between the two of you. Because this isn’t you in a crowd anymore. This is person to person. And you’re one hell of a lot braver -and mouthier, when it’s person to person. Especially when it comes to someone you care about, because you bloodied Carver’s nose not even a week ago because you overheard him saying some really nasty shit to Chrissy when the three of you were in the gym at the same time.

Nobody fucks with the people you care about. These people include your little brother -anyone can ask that little idiot Troy how that went because you scared the living shit out of him once when he made Dustin almost cry, Astrid - an old boyfriend was spreading around disgusting rumors last year and you not only upturned your entire tray over his head in front of everyone but you also somehow managed to sneak out during class and let the air out of his front tire and the back one, then you hid the little caps that went on the valve stems, your mother - she’s seen you stand toe to toe with your father when your father promised to do something and then went back on it, you ripped him a new one because your mom cried because she had to explain to Dustin that his dad didn’t have time to make it to one of his camp events, and then there was the thing with Chrissy and the way you just calmly turned Jason’s entire face for him after you dragged him for everything he was worth. And if the way you’re getting worked up and angry on his behalf is anything to go by, Astrid thinks, you really care about Eddie Munson, despite the overwhelming fear you feel in even admitting it.

As all this is happening, you have no clue that Eddie Munson has overheard at least half of the whole thing. And he’s now approaching, ready to break things up before they get out of control. And his mind is absolutely reeling because there’s so many different ways to interpret you not answering when Astrid outright said you were in love with him and right now, he’s more concerned about you and getting you out of this than he is grilling you or getting too wrapped up in his own equally pessimistic thoughts.

“Hey, hey. Hey!” Astrid’s snapping her fingers to keep your eyes on her and not glaring a hole through the brunette. The brunette is laughing. “Let the little girl go, by all means, sugar.”

“Oh no, no ma’am.. You absolutely do not want me to do that.” Astrid tells the other woman. “I can assure you, you definitely do not want that.”

“Lemme go, A.” you’re trying to push through the barrier of your best friend’s arm. “Maybe then this bitch will learn to leave someone who’s clearly not fuckin interested alone and stop fuckin harrassing him.”

“Okay, alright.” Astrid lowers her arm and you’re just about to lunge straight at the other woman when you feel strong arms wrap around your waist, picking you up to stand you behind him. Eddie’s got his arms folded and he’s staring down at the older woman.

“Ya know she’s here with me… Right?” Eddie’s calm when he says it. But there’s a certain small hint of territorial that seeps into the honeyed words as he looks at the older woman. “Just gonna put this to rest right now, alright? Just so you’ll finally get it. I was nice before, but..” he twists at the ring on his index finger as he gazes down at it and takes a deep breath, “now you’re messing with her. So I’m not going to be.”

The woman is starting to get what he’s hinting at, but Eddie doesn’t trust her comprehension level fully, so he just says it outright. “You’re not my type. I’m not even interested in you a little, okay? I asked her to come here tonight. Did I ask you to?” Eddie questions.

“You’re a jerk.”

“And you’re a bully.” Eddie says it so calm. “You can go now. I kinda want to have a minute with my girl before I gotta go back up on stage.” and he waves his hand at her dismissively.

The older brunette leaves in a huff and Eddie’s looking down at you with a mixture of concern and amusement. You’re rambling and ranting, and you apologize at least ten times, but he doesn’t care.

It’s one of the few times someone other than his uncle, Gareth or Jeff or even your own little brother as of late, have stood up for him. Without being forced into it somehow.

He’s definitely mind-blown. Touched by it.

“Hey, hey.” he’s got you looking at him now, one hand on your hip and the other on the column of your neck, “It’s okay. I mean it, it’s okay.” he’s trying to reassure you. You take a deep breath and nod, swallowing hard. But he doesn’t let go right away and for a second or two, in the heat of the moment he’s almost tempted to just say to hell with tiptoeing around the way he feels because your lips look so soft and your perfume’s lingering heavy in his nose and it was just so fucking… Hot to watch you get protective just now. But he knows how skittish you are and he knows that he could very well be misunderstanding everything and thus, it’s not a good idea to react the way he wants in the heat of the moment. He settles the overwhelming urge to kiss you by stroking your cheek instead. And he chuckles quietly. “Thank you.. For that. I’ve wanted to tell her to fuck off a while now.”

You manage a weak smile and nod and he can feel your body starting to release a little of the tension you’d had built up. He goes on to reassure you again, “I’m not mad, okay? I mean it.”

“Okay.”

The wind is picking up and it’s time for the band to go back on anyway. Eddie slips an arm around you and leads you back inside the bar where Astrid is sitting in Gareth’s lap at his drum kit. Astrid was right earlier. The crowd has died down a lot. You’re starting to relax a little more.

Eddie spots the rowdy older man eyeing you up and wordlessly, he gives the man a disgusted look as he pulls you closer to him. You lean into Eddie’s side and take a few deep breaths, grinning like an idiot to yourself, grateful that he’s too preoccupied with talking to Jeff about the rest of the set list for the night to actually look down and see you and the look on your face right now.

And if you weren’t already sure you were head over heels in love with him, tonight just cements that. And it’s something that gives you this rush but somehow, it’s terrifying to comprehend all at once.

And all you’re left with is wondering whether you can actually be okay with just being his friend given the way you feel and knowing you’re too scared to make that leap…

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x henderson!fem reader #eddie munson x reader imagine #eddie munson x fem!reader imagine #eddie munson x henderson!fem reader imagine

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spcllbounded · 2 years

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// Phew! It’s been a long time since I wrote an actual post outside of my silly teasing! Let’s stop beating around the bush.

Hey all! It’s ya Joy! I think I owe yall an explanation on what I’m planning and doing and what yall can expect hopefully in the near future! (I can’t make any promises due to a couple of reasons, but I’ll get to that!) So! This is gonna be long. Where do I start?

- First off, I wanna apologize for making empty promises on coming back and not. Actually coming back. If I had a nickel for every time I did that, I think I could pay off my last semester at college. There’s a lot of small reasons why coming back to rping has been tricky for me.

1. Health problems (especially some nasty, chronic ones and mental ones) are rearing their ugly heads, making me feel nasty in times I don’t expect it.

2. Making icons, promos and overall updating this here blog stresses me out. I’m in that awkward spot of REALLY wanting to update this outdated blog, but also being incredibly intimidated by all the things I need to make and update.

3. Being gone for some time makes me feel stupidly guilty for. Being gone. I hate coming back after vanishing off the face of the Earth for a hot second. Curse you anxiety.

4. College is a bitch, especially the senior year. Not just assignments, but adjusting to a new life and new people. It takes so much out of me.

There’s so much I wish I could say and explain, but at the same time, I don’t wanna make up excuses. All in all, things haven’t been the easiest. but I DO really wanna come back and rp with yall. I miss you guys so so much!! I can’t make any promises, but I can sure make attempts to come back!

- Muse page has changed quite a bit since the last time I shared it. Unfortunately, a lot have been yeeted off the list at least for the time being. It’s mostly for the sake of trying to ease my stress and getting around to working on muses I feel pretty solid about writing. I do have the missing muses’ bios and such saved in documents though, so they’re not gone for good! If I feel good about the progress I can make on this blog, then I’ll slowly add more!

- Speaking of muses, one of these misses muses is my round bandana boy. But he’s not in the muse void! He’s back on his home blog. For the time being, I’m reviving @dreamybandee! In the end, I thought it would be easier to leave the dee with what he has instead of trying to start over. Plus, only being one muse I hold so dearly, he’s really easy to go back to if I’m stressed! If things do get too hard to manage on multiple blogs, I’ll go back to plan B and add him on multi. But for the time being, he’s sticking around on his own!

- I hate doing this, but icons are going to be a little inconsistent. I simply don’t have the time to go back and remake them all to make them consistent. So in the meantime, I gotta stick with a mess of different icons. I hope you understand!

- Promos, tag reworks, and other graphics are still being worked on! I’ve got a pretty solid start in adding a new theme and plan to keep going from there! I’m gonna slowly chip away at things here and when I eventually get around to slapping a promo or some related post on here, that’s essentially gonna be me saying “Hey! I’m ready! Throw your muses at me!” so stay tuned!

- Wow Joy. Owning two blogs and that many muses? You must be exhausted. Well rest assured. I’m definitely NOT gonna make another blog with other muses.

Is what I would be saying if I was a good liar. Which I’m not.

All you mutuals that dabble in the Sonic community, keep a sharp eye out for another blog drop. These three got a hold of me and there’s no going back. :’)

Anyways! That’s the gist of what I wanted to get off my chest! I’m so sorry I made a great wall of text here! There was no easy way to say all of this and this has been long overdue I feel. Sorry I couldn’t say or do anything sooner!

I love yall and I hope to see you soon! Have a good one!

#• OOC ✒️ Dear readers •#// long post #// like. really long. Sorry dear mutuals. I'm spilling :')

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afuntimepartyy · 2 years

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★[Introduction post!]★

Hey, it’s about time I did this huh? anyways, hi! My name is Mangy/Funtime! I’m a still learning digital artist that’s just trying to get their work out there! I’m here for a good time, this is NOT a super professional account and currently? that will NEVER be this account’s purpose or intent!

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ★

This is mostly, a “post whatever I want” blog, but I’m working on organizing with tags a bit more to make it easier to sort through my stuff that’s art, rambling, what not! Im a very reblogs > likes person due to me trying to get my art and ideas out SOMEWHERE in the world, any support is greatly appreciated!

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ★

I DO appreciate tone indicators or tone tags when talking with me occasionally, I can sometimes understand tone just fine through text, but other times I may need a nod in the right direction to what you’re trying to convey. ミ★[Disclaimer before I get into the pronouns! my preferred ones ARE neos, however! if you for some reason have difficulty using them, they/them IS fine- and so is it/its. I will tell you though there IS websites that help you see how neo pronouns would work in a sentence, use those if possible to help you out!] ★彡 ★List of pronouns, listed most preferred to least preferred (but not disliked!)★ Cat/cats/catself, | kit/kits/kitself,| paw/paws/pawself, |They/them/theirs,| it/its/itself!| cloud/clouds/cloudself | star/stars/starself!

[If you see mutuals rebloging my stuff with the name kat, that’s for them only. Kat is specific to close friends and mutuals! Anyone else I’d prefer for them to use mangy/funtime!!]

★Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ★

things I tend to enjoy a lot vary in many different shapes and sizes- I LOVE general weird early internet stuff, those in the early 2000′s and so on. Just the general early 2000′s tend to be a favorite discussion of mine, or the general stuff that came out in that era! I adore bright saturated colors, and in art I love fun and cartoony proportions the most! I also love animations, art, and theater! I love examining writing from other things and analyzing it FAR too much! [ meanwhile, my fixations can come in WAVES, and come and go as they please, so I wont bother noting those! ] ★Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ★ now we’ve gotten all over that, yeah? I feel this introduction post is far too long but I don’t really have any other websites to shorten in! so hopefully this works. ill update it as I go, as well as shorten it if I can! Everything down below is simply to another site i use and post to, farewell for now! hopefully this all said all that needs to be said about me! ★Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ★

★Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ★ Other socials you can contact/find me on! ★Twitter! [https://twitter.com/AFuntimePartyy] ★Artfight! [https://artfight.net/~AFuntimePartyy] ★Insta! [https://www.instagram.com/AFuntimePartyy/] (insta desperately needs a bit more cleaning up, maybe alongside some others too. The idea of strictly going by mangy/funtime online when not with friends is new, so I need to update others!) ★More may be added in the future! stay tuned :]

#DONT reblog this #introductory post #pinned post #hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

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nicad13 · 1 year

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Crossroads: Chapter 16

The Proving Grounds

Summary: Rayne and Din are tested.

Din breaks his promise.

Notes: Canon-compliant through Season 1, alt version of Season 2. Posting some old fic before the sequel, which will hopefully be complete by the end of Season 3. Start now so you're ready! AO3 link in the Source at the bottom.

Tags/Warnings: whump, violence, hurt/comfort, mind control, hallucinations, angst, soooo much angst....

Rating: Mature

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Through this world I’ve stumbled So many times betrayed Trying to find an honest word To find the truth enslaved Oh you speak to me in riddles and You speak to me in rhymes My body aches to breathe your breath Your words keep me alive

Sarah McLachlan, Possession

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Din sat on the edge of the bunk in the hold of the Razor Crest, elbows on his knees, helmeted head in his hands. Trembling with tension.

He’d seen Cara off at the spaceport and then returned to the ship, meaning to pack up more of their things and then catch a speeder back to their place. He’d collected Rayne and Yadier’s belongings easily enough, but when he’d gotten to his own stuff, he’d become indecisive. Was he staying or not? Should he bring most of his non-weapons stuff or just a few changes of clothes?

Cara’s words haunted him.

You love her, don’t you?

He hadn’t answered. He’d sidestepped completely. Because what was the point? What was the point when they would throw him out anyway? Even making the promise to Rayne that he would end her life if she turned to the Dark Side was ridiculous in its optimism because it assumed he would be allowed to stay and be in the position to fulfill it. That path was forked, but both options led to dead ends. He would either be forced to leave, or forced to bring her life to a violent end.

He didn’t dare let himself look at the third path. The one where he was allowed to stay and his Jedi managed to stave off the Dark Side. It seemed so unlikely compared to the other possibilities. Too good to be true. Daring to want such a thing only to lose it would shatter him.

He had watched her die once already. He remembered with crystal clarity the way it had gutted him. Emptied him out. He remembered drawing his blade on himself, not for the first time, not even for the second, but for the first time with lethal intent.

He was pretty sure he wouldn’t survive it a second time around.

He really was a coward. Hut’uun. It rang in his head, over and over.

He should just leave right now. Save everyone the time. Release Rayne from him so she could find a father for their son who could handle it. Send Rayne and Yadier their things, get the hell off this planet, and forget that this last year of his life had ever happened.

The comlink on his vambrace chirped. The code indicated that Rayne was on the other end. “Hey.”

“Hey. Everything ok?” Rayne’s voice signaled a slight edge of concern. Looking at the time at the lower left corner of his HUD, he realized how late he was.

“Yeah.” It wasn’t really a lie. On a scale of One to I watched you die, he figured You’re better off without me didn’t quite rank half-way up. “Just… lost track of time.”

She paused for a beat, as if to tell him in her own silent way that she knew he was full of it, but would take mercy on him, regardless. “Okay. Do you want us to wait for you to get dinner?”

“No. Go ahead without me.” Get used to it.

“Want me to bring you anything back?”

“No. Thank you.”

“Din…”

“Yes?”

“You’re at the Crest right now?”

“Yes.”

“… You’re coming back, right?”

Goddammit, Rayne. He considered asking if that was what she wanted, but she’d made that plain enough with the way she’d asked it. God knew why. “Yes.” The silence stretched for a bit, and then he added, “Don’t wait up.”

“We all need to be at the Temple tomorrow morning.”

That was news. “Okay. I’ll be home tonight. Get some rest.”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

He went for a walk.

He wandered back towards the city, no particular destination in mind, just wanting to lose himself in an unfamiliar place, fade into anonymity inasmuch as a Mandalorian could in a city seemingly full of every kind of being except Mandos. Humans, Chargrians, Kubaz, Devaronians, Twi’leks, Bothans, Rodians, even a couple Wookies. But no other beskar-clad souls. In that, Genesaria was just like every place else.

Din Djarin was, and always would be, alone in this galaxy.

He should’ve been used to it by now.

So why did it hurt so much lately?

He stopped in his tracks. His halt was so abrupt that a Devaronian walked right into him and almost knocked him over.

“Whoops! Sorry about that. You alright?” The large horned man held Din upright by the elbow.

Din was so stunned at being treated so politely by a Devaronian that he couldn’t bring any words.

“Buddy? You ok?”

“Yeah. Yes. Sorry.” Din pulled back, chiding himself both for his clumsiness and his racism, knowing he couldn’t let the Devaronian he’d run into on Ran’s crew represent an entire people. “It was my fault.”

The Devaronian nodded and went on his way, and Din turned back to look at what had brought him to such a standstill.

A restaurant with Mandalorian script on the storefront. “Jat’skraan.” The translation was printed below in Basic: “Good Eats.”

Din stood in the middle of the sidewalk, motionless. Dumbfounded. Wondering if he really had finally lost his goddamned mind.

A Mandalorian restaurant? Where… people ate Mandalorian food… in public? With other people?

What madness was this?

Helpless, Din found himself drawn to the door, found himself opening it, found himself walking in.

People were sitting together at tables, mostly human, but a smattering of others. No one was wearing armor. No helmets. They gave him only a cursory look before returning to their food and conversations.

He drifted to the bar and slid into an empty seat at the end, not knowing what else to do with himself. Meals at the coverts were served in a hybrid of cafeteria/takeout style. You scooped what you wanted into a box and took it back to your room to eat alone. He’d never found any particular joy in eating it. Nothing like the meals his parents would make when he was a kid, even if those memories were little more than ghosts in his mind. But here, he could smell a variety of savory spices, a palate that was barely hinted at by covert food.

“I didn’t expect to see you in here so soon.”

Din’s wandering attention was brought to a woman approaching him from behind the bar clad in leather clothes and a beskar helmet, the latter of which she lifted from her head as she reached him. Din flinched, turning his head away as she completed the motion, only to hear her laugh.

“Someone’s still riding the Death Watch cart, eh Mando?”

Maz’s words floated back to him. Expect to be challenged by those you seek. He turned back to the bartender with slow caution. She was maybe ten years his senior, dark red curls of hair fading to grey, kind brown eyes looking at him from a weathered face. He placed his hands on the bar so they were in clear view, a signal that he was not drawing a weapon at present, a signal of momentary peace. “Maybe still being dragged is a closer description.”

The barkeeper tipped her head in acknowledgement. “Fair enough. I’m Ranni. I suppose you still go by Mando?”

“I do. You were expecting me?”

“You’ve had a cult following on this planet since the Imps put a public bounty on you for stealing the Lost Son.”

A sluggish feeling of mortification settled over him. “People here know who I am?” His voice was barely audible over the background conversations.

“‘Fraid so. You’ve been known by name since Gideon started spewing it a few months ago.”

“He won’t be spewing anything anymore.”

“So that was your work on Ilum?” Her voice rang with admiration.

“I had help. A lot of help.” He sighed. “News travels fast here, then.”

“Indeed it does.”

“Are there other Mandalorians here?”

“A few, though you won’t recognize them. They’re mostly of the New Mandalorian variety. Never wore armor. Never will.”

“And you?”

Ranni smiled. “This was my great grandmother’s helmet. Mandalore used to be known for its incredible cuisine, and she was one of Mandalore’s greatest chefs. When even warriors were permitted to remove their helmets in public. Could eat in public. Hell, most of the Death Watch elite walked bare-faced until almost the very end. Do a search on Gar Saxon and Pre Vizsla and you’ll easily find pictures of their faces. Only the moon-based cells were extremist enough to adopt the dar’manda helmet rules. Take one guess about what happened to the Mandalorian restaurant industry when those assholes took over the system.”

Din drew a finger across his throat.

“Exactly. Our food was just as much a part of our culture as our armor. And food is meant to be eaten together. It’s meant to be communal. Take the community out of the food, and you take away all of the joy of it. You take away all of the pride in it. The food turns to crap. Every culture is defined, in part, by food. But us? Not anymore. We’re nothing more than faceless helmets. I only wear mine to cook with because it’s the only way I keep from getting Tiingilar spice up my damn nose.”

Din gave a slow nod. It all lined up with what he had read so far. The rules of his upbringing, the Resol’nare, twisted as a means of oppression. Any questioning answered only with This is the Way. The emptiest non-answer there ever was. The vaguest of vague platitudes.

“So,” Ranni continued. “I assume you’re still doing takeout?”

“I’m afraid so. But…” He swallowed. “I appreciate the history lesson. Thank you.”

She smiled at the honesty of his tone. “What can I get you, then?”

“You mentioned Tiingilar…”

She laughed and shook her head. “Oh, honey, you can’t handle that. Let’s just start you off with some roast shatual.”

“I’m…” Din sighed. “… Trying to knock a blood-pressure issue down…”

“Ah. Then I’ll throw in some uj cake and a bottle of shig. I’ll have it out in a bit.”

Ranni returned with a bag a few minutes later, refusing to tell him what he owed, saying it was on the house. He left his best guess as to its worth in New Republic credits on the bar anyway, hoping they would spend on this world, and walked back to the Razor Crest.

He sat at the table in the hold, removed his helmet, and ate his first true traditional Mandalorian meal.

Alone.

It was delicious. The sliced meat of the shatual perfectly cooked and spiced, the uj cake sweet and nutty, the shig washing it all down.

When he was done, he rested his head in his hands, elbows on the table, feeling the shig tea work its way through him, calming him down, allowing his mind to focus.

He finished packing up his things, choosing a few changes of clothes, his book tablet, and his shower kit. He would leave the Amban on the Crest; few people here were openly armed, and he had yet to see anyone with a long gun. The pulse rifle would only be provocative in a way he didn’t want. He opened the weapons locker, pulled the Darksaber from its hook, and considered it. The Jedi wore their sabers openly here, more as a symbolic allowance than anything else. He clipped the Darksaber to his belt at the small of his back. Concealed, but handy. He hailed a speeder, loaded his family’s things in the back, and watched the city pass him by as he glided to their temporary home. He managed getting everything up in one trip. A quick peek into Yadier’s room found the baby snoring away. He took his meds, brushed his teeth, shaved, and showered. And when he slid into bed behind Rayne, she remained asleep, giving little more than a contented sigh as he kissed the back of her neck and spooned himself around her.

She was sleeping well, then. No apparent restlessness for what might happen tomorrow.

He dared to allow himself to take that as a good sign and closed his eyes.

He could lose it all. But that’s what it meant to have a family with Jedi. That was the reality he had to face. And if he was allowed to stay, he would stand with her and face it. If he wasn’t strong enough to face it, who was? He was not a coward. He was a Mandalorian.

He wasn’t a coward. He was just… afraid. They weren’t the same thing. He would do the same thing with this fear that he’d done with the others. Manage it. Look it in the face and figure out how to deal with it.

“I want this to work.” His lips formed the words in silence against the back of her neck.

“I…” The next words hung on him, even in silence. “I want this to work,” he repeated, instead.

He drifted to sleep and was once more reminded of pineapple as he breathed her in.

---

The clan of Rollins-Djarin walked to the Jedi temple the next morning, Yadier leading the way as he hopped and skipped down the sidewalk.

Din let out a miserable-sounding sigh.

He’d been melancholy all morning, telling Rayne what he’d learned from Cara about the vetting of non-Force-sensitive new arrivals here, along with her assessment of Genesaria’s need, or lack thereof, for people like her and Din.

He didn’t say anything about dinner. That he needed more time to process the existential experience of a Mandalorian restaurant seemed ridiculous, but, here he was.

Rayne was slightly more hopeful about his chances, but was anxious nonetheless. Hearing his sigh, she brushed the back of her hand along the back of his, glancing up at the helmet that remained pointed straight ahead with an unasked question.

“We’re sending our son to his first day of school and he doesn’t even have any shoes.” His tone was petulant.

Rayne blew out a sigh of relief. Of all the things to worry about, this didn’t even make her list. But she understood that Din lacked the experience she had with this sort of thing. “Grand Master Yoda never wore shoes. I don’t think any of the Council members of his species were wearing any yesterday, either. I don’t think shoes are a thing for them. Don’t worry about it.”

He let out another sigh, trying to calm himself down. “Okay.”

They arrived at the Jedi temple and Yadier led the way to the classroom for Force-sensitive preschool, remembering the route from their tour the day before. He brought his hands together in a soft clap, over and over, ears pricked, eyes round and eager, bouncing with every step.

The door was still open by the time they got there, and a Twi’lek woman greeted them. “Yadier, Jedi Rayne, Mandalorian. My name is Ona. Welcome.”

Din watched as Rayne tipped her head and shoulders in a slight bow, eyes downcast, then straightened to regain eye contact, and followed suit himself. He felt his gut tighten at the idea of his son being taught by a Twi’lek, but forced himself to stomp it down. He’d had profoundly bad experiences with members of at least ten different species in this galaxy at some point in his life, several of which were represented at Genesaria. He had to get over it. Bigotry was bad enough on its own, but it would most certainly not serve him well here.

“Thank you, Ona,” Rayne replied. She looked down to see Yadier at the threshold, bouncing in place, and he turned up to face her, arms upraised. Knowing this was the sign for one last hug before I venture forth, she picked him up and gave him a kiss on the top of his head. She offered him to Din, who took him in turn and brought is forehead to his son’s.

“Be good. Make friends. Have fun. Learn a lot.” He murmured the words and Yadier giggled as Din turned his head to and fro over him. He set his son back to the ground, and the baby took off running into the group of small children playing a game in a circle. They made room for him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Ona turned to the boy’s parents. “I think he’ll do just fine.”

“Thank you,” Rayne said again.

They did their little bows, and left.

Din followed Rayne up to a set of double-doors that opened onto a large hall that comfortably held the fifty people waiting for them, sunlight streaming through arched stained-glass windows. They were standing in no particular formation, and Rayne and Din were led to the center of the group.

Fifty Force-sensitives. Castaway Jedi. Purge survivors. Members of Yadier’s people. Din found himself initially surprised by their appearance, their diminutive height speaking nothing of their power. They apparently did not retain their adorableness in old age. They weren’t… ugly, per se, but they were by no means attractive. The wrinkly skin and enormous ears were a bit less enduring without the disproportionately huge dark eyes to balance it all out.

Yandia, as the voice of the Council, acknowledged Din. “Welcome, Mandalorian. We thank you for returning our Lost Son to us.”

Din repeated the little bow he’d performed a few minutes earlier. It appeared to be the correct response, as Yandia returned it and took a seat on a mat on the floor. He motioned to another mat in front of him, and Rayne took her place to kneel. Not knowing where else to go, Din stood to the side.

A hush fell over the hall.

Yandia bowed his head and spoke. “Not the name you had at the Jedi temple at Coruscant, the name you use now.”

“No. I was on my own evading the Purge. I couldn’t use my name.”

“Over the Purge is. Safe, you are here. Your name we would hear.”

She hesitated, casting a brief glance in Din’s direction. “I’ve only said it once in the last thirty-four years.” When she told Hayes, the night she married him. He had honored her request to never speak it, taking it with him to the cold grave of outer space.

“And now you must say it once again.” Yandia cast a glance in Din’s direction as well. “Before all of those present beside you.”

She took a breath, held it, and let it out. “Rez. Rez Rohan.”

One of the Council members was scrolling through a tablet, found what she was looking for, and pronounced, “Rez Rohan of Onderon.”

Din stood in silence, committing her name to memory, knowing he may never hear it again beyond these walls.

“Your lightsaber, please.” Yandia held out his hands. Rayne unclipped it from her belt and placed it in his grasp. He ignited the blade, gazed at the yellow light, turned it once, twice, and then deactivated it.

“Jedi Rez was a member of the final Gathering class at Ilum at the age of ten,” The Councilmember with the tablet said. “She was the last of the group to emerge from the cave.”

Rayne closed her eyes. They were going to unearth every single one of her flaws for all to see. The late bloomer. The one who was neither all that communal with the Force, nor all that great of a fighter. The one who hadn’t even had a Master in mind for when she got back from Ilum, for when she would become a Padawan, only she never got the chance.

Instead, Yandia’s response was carried by the kindness in his voice. “Often the last to emerge from the cave, were Sentinels. Over-think things, they tend to do.” He gave her a warm smile. “Built under Professor Huyang’s supervision, you lightsaber was not.”

“No. We were on our way back on the Crucible and he only had enough time to allow us to select our materials. We were ordered to jump back to Coruscant immediately. We weren’t told why but…” Rayne’s words stumbled. “They thought we would be safer at the Temple.”

Yandia bowed his head. “In that, they were incorrect. At what age were you, when you completed your lightsaber?”

“Eighteen.”

“Mmm.” The Council leader held the hilt in his hands, gazing at it. “An unconventional design, it is. Cartusian whalebone inlay. An unusual choice. Modified for greater stability, the emitter matrix is.” He paused, contemplating it further. “The last kyber crystal to emerge from the Ilum temple, this lightsaber houses.” He offered it back to her, and she accepted it, clipping it back to her belt. “Truly sacred the weapon you created is.”

Din swallowed. For a man who was raised in a religion that worshiped weapons, it was almost too much to hear.

Many in the hall were not so easily impressed.

“Nearly four and a half decades she has lived. Yet endured her rite of passage as a knight she has not,” said one.

“Fell the Republic did before she had the chance,” said another.

“Little used her powers are,” said a third.

“Clumsy she is,” said a fourth.

The dissenting murmurs continued.

Din watched as Rayne remained kneeling at the center of it all, head bowed. Listened as they denounced her. Seethed as they made it perfectly clear that they had no idea what she was capable of or how much she had done in the face of having been given so little.

“The powers of her mind I wish to see,” said Yandia.

Din turned toward his voice, a bubble of hope in this sea of despair.

“A rite of passage do you wish?” proposed another.

“A chance to prove herself, yes,” Yandia responded. “Join her, the Mandalorian will.”

In unison, they turned their faces to him. Understanding what was being asked… demanded?... of him, he walked to the center of the floor as Yandia vacated his mat, and knelt before Rayne, ignoring the protests from his knees, facing her. “Hey,” he took her hands in his. “Look at me.”

She lifted her chin and met his gaze through the visor with her own.

Her eyes were blazing.

The blue of her eyes reflecting the steel glint of his beskar.

Oh, you are so ready for this. He pushed his thoughts towards her. Show them. Show them your strength. Show them what happens when an orphaned Jedi is found by a Mandalorian.

Ever so slightly, the corner of her mouth pulled into a hint of a smile.

The others gathered around them, forming a tight circle. His breath hitched as they raised their hands and bowed their heads.

And then he felt it.

He felt his armor thrum all over him, reacting to the Force, the beskar shedding the buildup of it all around him. But they were at close range, and they would have their way with him.

Unless she could protect him.

The procedure of the test was suddenly clear as his hands let go of hers, unbidden, and rose to the bottom edge of his helmet. “Um… Rayne…”

“I know…” she whispered.

The Force fell away from him almost as suddenly as it had come, and his hands were free. He reached for her once more when she twitched her head in a motion of negation. “Don’t touch me,” she whispered again.

He wants the helmet off… A voice drifted in her mind. He wants this… Let us give it to him… Other voices joined it.

No… she replied. Not like this…

He watched as her gaze lost focus in a thousand-mile stare, looking straight through him, and he realized she was fighting all of them off, all fifty of them, at close range, at this instant. Fending off their attack on him, their only intention of using his own hands against himself to remove his helmet.

She was the only thing standing between him and fifty Jedi bent on making him break his Creed. A Creed that he was perilously close to breaking on his own, and her words about the ease of making someone do something they had been holding off on, during her demonstration at the edge of the lake on Methuselah, rang like a shot in his head.

You want the helmet off… you want to see his face… you want to see his eyes…

He stilled himself. Allowed her to focus. Watched as her breath came in long, steady draws. Watched as the lids of her eyes fell in a slow blink every ten seconds. Watched as sweat broke out on her face, her neck, her chest, her arms. Three minutes passed as he watched time tick away on his HUD. C’mon Rayne, you’ve got this.

You are already dar’manda… show her who you really are… stop being a coward and show her your face…

Five minutes passed, and he felt the pinpricks of the Force along the backs of his hands. Her fingers twitched against it, the muscles of her jaw bulged under the strain. He did all he could to bolster her. Strong. You’re so strong. Show them how strong you are. He had no idea if it was helping. Had no idea if she could hear.

Your son… think of your son… he deserves to see the face of his father…

At seven minutes, his hands fisted and rose half-way up his chest. A small choking sound escaped her throat, but that was all. He fought them off as much as he could, fought to bring his hands back to his knees, but he might as well have been pushing against the surface of the planet itself. When his hands lowered, they were under her power. Her breath was heavy now, her hair was wet.

He wants to give in… he wants to be free of it…

His terms… Rayne fought back. It has to be on his terms…

At ten minutes, he watched, horrified, as her left pupil suddenly dilated.

Oh, no. Not again.

Her hold on him took an abrupt dive and his hands shot to his helmet. “Rayne!” He barked her name without meaning to, but she recovered, holding him in place, both of them shaking. Only then did he notice her blood pooling at the hollow of her throat, at the bottom of a trail leading from her left ear. Before he could get a good look at it, a wave of static glitched over his visor, dueling Forces taking their toll on his gear. Her left eye started to pull to the outside, wandering, but still, she held him.

“It’s not worth it,” he said to them, before he realized the words were even in his head. “Take the helmet. I give up. She’s had enough. Please-”

Shut up. Her voice in his mind. Even as the light faded from her eyes, her mind still held fast. I can’t fight them on my own. I need your help. He watched her tremble before him and he redoubled his efforts, fighting to keep his hands fisted, to not grip the helmet.

Rayne…

Do you trust me? Even in his mind, her voice was strained.

You know I do.

Then fight it. Fight them. Fight them with me.

Din did what he did best. He fought. With his Jedi before him. With his Jedi all around him. Feeling the armor of her Force surrounding him, he held her up, and together they fought the assault. He chanced a look around, and they were all still there, all still with their hands raised, all against them.

But still, he felt her cracks under the strain.

Had she not yet proven herself? One against fifty of them? A non-stop onslaught? Did they not see what they were doing to her? “Stop,” he said. “You’re killing her.” His head swam as his hands tightened and loosened outside of his control. He turned his attention back to her in time to see her eyes roll back into her head and her lids close, but she remained upright. “Stop!” he said again, louder. Blood seeped out from the corners of her eyes and now he was well and truly alarmed, her hold on him still vice-grip tight, her breath coming in ragged draws.

And then her breath stopped.

No. No no no. Not again.

She fell forward, into him, her blood splashing onto his beskar.

His world went black.

---

Rayne came to slowly, opening her eyes to a world that refused to focus, head pounding. Finding it too much, she gave up, closed her eyes, and sank back down.

“Hey…” Din’s voice was clear at least, her ears apparently working better than her eyes.

“Mmph.” It was the best she could do.

“Hey, come back.” His tone was gentle.

She felt his bare hand, absent of its glove, at the back of her neck. She tried again, forcing her eyes open, seeing a fuzzy black T against silver, the visor of his helmet inches from her face. She rolled into his touch, bringing her hands up to his, bringing the tips of his bare fingers to her lips. Her mouth was dry. Her hands were numb. “How long?”

“A few hours.”

She closed her eyes and breathed out a sigh. “What happened?”

“You stood alone against fifty of the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy for ten minutes. You protected me with nothing but the power of your own mind.”

“And then I failed.”

“No,” he shook his head. “They didn’t expect you to last more than five seconds. They’ve tested a hundred others this way. You outdid eighty of them. And gave splitting headaches to ten of the fifty who tested you.”

“Is that a pass?”

“It is.” He ran a thumb along her eyebrow, relieved to see her pupils equally dilated. “Jedi Knight Rollins.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

She closed her eyes. “Can’t be right. I was never more than a youngling. I was never even a Padawan.”

“They decided that thirty-five years of experience, building a lightsaber capable of defeating the Darksaber, crashing an Imperial starship into an Imperial base, and bringing their Lost Son home was worth something.”

She let out a long sigh. “Decent résumé, I guess.”

She sat up, finding herself on a couch in a small chamber with stone walls that still managed to be cozy, late-afternoon light filtering in through a window, Din sitting on the edge of the couch, facing her. “Are we still at the temple?”

“Yes,” Din handed her a bottle of water and she accepted it, downing half of it without managing to spill it or drown herself. “I was out for a few minutes, but they’d healed you by the time I woke up.” She turned to sit and pulled him back by the pauldron so she could lean against him. He obliged, settling an arm around her. “I don’t get it though. I thought I was the one getting tested today.”

“Oh, you were,” Rayne said, getting as comfortable as she could against the armor. “They wanted to see how you’d react to all of it. See if you trusted me.”

“Oh.” He ran it all back through his head. “How’d I do?”

“Well enough, I think,” she sighed.

“So that’s it?”

“No,” she said. “Not by a long shot.”

The thought of asking about her name crossed his mind, but he held back, thinking it best to let her bring it up when she was ready. If she ever got there.

They rested for another hour or so, and by the time she was ready to get up and around, it was time to pick Yadier up from school. They wandered the halls of the temple for a bit, finding their way, and were surprised to see Yandia waiting for them at the door of the classroom.

“Greetings Rayne. Mandalorian.”

Again, Din followed Rayne with the little head-dip of a bow.

“A satisfactory performance from you both, today.”

“Thank you,” Rayne replied.

Satisfactory? Din’s head spun a little. He thought back to the Armorer’s words of how his son would not survive Mandalorian training, but would be safe with the Jedi. She had no idea.

“Your lightsaber, please.” Once again, Yandia held his hand out for it, and Rayne passed it over. Din looked to her in confusion, but she could only shake her head and shrug.

The door opened and Ona greeted them with a smile, apparently not surprised that the Jedi Council leader was standing there with Rayne’s lightsaber in his hand. “Come in, please.”

They followed her to the front of the classroom full of Younglings, and Din’s heart melted a little at the sight of his son seated at the front, his face happy and hopeful, clearly having had a good day.

“We have a special treat today,” Ona started. The children tittered with excitement. “Yadier’s mother succeeded in her trials. Master Yandia thought it would be nice to have her Knighting Ceremony here before we ended our day.”

The class erupted in happy squeals and the clapping of tiny hands.

Rayne’s shoulders dropped as she fought back the tears that suddenly welled up.

She never thought this would happen. After decades of running. After decades of hiding what she was. After decades of the erasure of her people from the galaxy, forgotten by history. And she certainly never thought this would happen in front of her son and the man she had come to think of as her own.

Yandia stood at the front of the room and faced Rayne, igniting her saber. She took a knee before him, bowing her head. He brought the saber to each of her shoulders, and she heard the thrumming buzz of it in each ear, felt the heat of it on her skin.

“By the right of the Council, by the will of the Force, I dub thee Jedi, Knight of Genesaria.”

He deactivated the saber and placed it on the floor before her, but she kept her head bowed and the room remained silent. Yandia looked up to Din and held out a hand. “Your vibroblade, please, Mandalorian. A Padawan braid our new knight does not possess, and too short her hair is to cut with a lightsaber.”

Din pulled his blade from his boot, pride welling in his chest, and handed it to the Jedi Master, hilt first. Yandia took it with a steady hand, took hold of one tight curl at the top of Rayne’s head, near the back, and sliced it off.

And thus, Rayne was the first Jedi in the history of the galaxy to be knighted with a Mandalorian blade.

Yandia returned Din’s blade, bound the curl with elastic, slipped it into his pocket, and offered Rayne’s lightsaber back to her. She accepted, and clipped it to her belt.

With that, Yandia bowed. “That is all. Thank you.”

The class erupted in cheers and Yadier toddled over to his mother, arms outstretched, squeaking “Buir!” at the top of his lungs. Overwhelmed, she sat with him on the floor and held him, no longer able to hold her tears back. Din took a knee beside his family, brought his arms around them, and held them tight, oblivious to the celebration around them.

“My Jedi,” he whispered, not sure if she could hear him, not really caring. “My Jedi Knight.”

He whispered it again that night, when they were alone together in the dark, without the helmet between them. She brought her lips to his, warm and soft. And when they parted, she replied with a whisper of her own.

“My Mandalorian.”

---

They spent the next week settling in. Yadier made friends at school, thriving in an environment with others at his developmental level who shared his gifts, if not in magnitude, at least in kind. Rayne began her meditative training, her baseline level of Force resistance established at the trial. She scoped out the shipyards, getting a sense of what might be needed mechanic-wise. She also pondered the possibility of devoting herself full-time to design work, no longer needing the front of a legitimate business to back her public name. She had options.

In the afternoons, she and Din would do a bit of training in the courtyard at the temple. Rayne had found the training spheres of her youth, the hovering balls that shot low-level blasts. She would gather half a dozen and bring them out, Din tuning his blaster down so he could hit them without destroying them.

And then, they fought. They fought in the old way of the Jedi and Clone, the way they had on the Vibre. Sometimes him behind her, sometimes back-to-back, Rayne deflecting the shots of the training spheres with her lightsaber, Din picking them off with his blaster from his position of safety, his offense protected by her defense. They reveled in the growing harmony of their minds, the way she could almost share her precognition with him, the way he responded to it, taking the advantages she gave him.

Sometimes they drew a crowd.

And when, after they had drained the training spheres of all their charge, they turned to face each other, exhausted, breaths heavy, Din could only hope that Rayne knew his smile was as broad as hers as he held his hand out, and her hand met his in the upraised clasp of warriors.

God, this woman.

Some members of the crowd would clap, impressed with the display. Others were more reserved, arms folded.

One day, Din met with Luc, their liaison.

“You know about what happened at Ilum,” Din said.

“Ah! Yes! Quite the victory. You have our congratulations in eliminating such a well-organized Imperial remnant.”

“Gideon was far too well-equipped for a remnant and you know it.”

Luc gave the barest of a nod. “Perhaps.”

“The Empire, or some part of it, is coming back,” Din said. “The New Republic isn’t in any position to do anything about it. And you know that, too.”

Again, a slight nod. “Perhaps.”

“My family took out a Moff and his entire regiment. One Mandalorian. Two Force-sensitives. One Shocktrooper. Four of us against hundreds of them.” Din paused to let it sink in. “If we could raise that much hell, what could Genesaria do?”

“Heh, most are here because they fled a war or are the descendents of those who fled.”

“They fled a system that abandoned them when the Empire attacked it. They fled a way of life that collapsed in the face of the Dark Side. You’re telling me we can’t do better?”

“No, not necessarily. I’m telling you we haven’t considered it yet, and will not be eager to take it up.”

“How long do you think we’ll have that luxury?”

Luc gave a conciliatory shrug. “I will take your concerns to the Council.”

---

Din and Rayne walked the halls of the Jedi temple, having just dropped Yadier off at school, on their way to Rayne’s daily meditation practice.

“How are things going with it?” he asked, brushing the back of his hand against the back of hers.

“So far so good, I think,” she said. “My focus is getting better. I’m learning my weak points.”

“Any… symptoms?”

“No,” she said. She’d been a little restless for the last couple of nights, waking up with a little trouble getting back to sleep, but there had been no nightmares. No visions, terrifying or otherwise. “Not yet.”

“Good.” His response was almost a sigh of relief, and he hooked a pinky finger around hers for a brief moment, a bold public display of affection for a place so holy.

They reached the chamber of their destination and were greeted by Master Jenkins, the Jedi meditative specialist who was leading Rayne through her practice. “Good morning, Din.”

He tipped his head. “Jenkins.” Given the depth of memories and thoughts her guidance of Rayne’s practice required, it was impossible not to reveal his name, among many other things, and so he allowed her use of it when not in the presence of others.

Rayne turned and took both of his hands in hers. “Good luck today.”

“Thank you.” He paused for a moment, just to take it all in, and then gave her hands a mild squeeze before letting go. “I’ll see you later to get Yadier after school.”

“Yep.”

One last nod, and he turned and left.

Having visited the Educational and Force-Relational wings of the temple, Din headed to the Administrative wing to debrief one of the Council members on what he and Rayne had learned on Gideon’s Vibre and at Ilum, Luc having actually come through and gotten him on someone’s calendar.

He had plenty of time, so he paused at an atrium on his way, finding himself at a rail a few levels up, with several more levels overhead, clear transparisteel at the roof, letting the mid-morning sunlight stream down through the vertical jungle that grew up through the center of the temple.

The growth was dominated by two tall trees, thick, vine-wrapped trunks reaching up to the roof, their branches supporting moss and other symbiotic plants with vibrant blooms of all colors. Several species of butterflies fluttered about, pausing at the flowers to feed upon their nectar, wings opening and closing in relaxed beats.

Din didn’t quite know what to think. On the one hand, it seemed unnatural to keep plants and insects such at these inside. Cruel, almost, to cage these wild things. On the other hand, he had to admit it was beautiful. He just… wasn’t used to this kind of thing. This kind of adornment. He stood there for ten minutes, watching the butterflies, wondering if they realized they were confined, wondering if the trade-offs of protection from predators in here was worth the freedom of outside.

Standing there in the sun, he realized he was parched. He wondered if the blood-pressure meds were dehydrating him; water seemed to go right through him over the last couple days. He’d taken to carrying his water flask clipped to the back of his belt; standard operating procedure when he was hunting, but not something he was accustomed to on his down-time in civilized areas. The trick, of course, was finding a spot to lift the helmet and drink it. He was deep into the middle of the temple and his appointment was in five minutes. He’d have to duck into a fresher and make due.

After the whole atrium jungle thing, Din supposed he should have expected the first fresher he found to be a spacious, private, almost opulent facility. Leave it to the Jedi to require peace and harmony just to take a shit. He locked the door behind him, lifted the helmet off, and set it on the bench against the wall. He pulled the flask off of his belt, undid the cap, and downed the whole thing in one go.

The flask fell from his hands and clattered to the floor, suddenly forgotten.

Din froze in place, a sense of dread creeping into his mind.

Something was wrong.

Something was very, very wrong.

Buir… Buir… no!

Yadier…

Din fell to the bench as his mind suddenly split open, cracked asunder by the anguished cries of his son. He saw what his son saw. He heard what his son heard. He felt what his son felt.

He saw Rayne approach him with a blade in her hand. Not her lightsaber… something different, but still familiar. Her expression was calm, if unreadable. “I’m sorry, Yadi,” she said. “You’re a good boy, and you deserve better, but you’re too dangerous.” She reached for him with her empty hand, running a finger along an ear. “Too much power all in one place.” She shook her head. “If the Imps were to get you, they’d bring it all back. They’d be unstoppable. I can’t let it happen.” She brought the blade to his son’s throat. “I brought you here hoping they would know what to do, but they don’t. And now I have to do it myself.” She tilted her head, the cold, steel blue of her eyes staring right through him.

Her eyes were wet with tears as she lifted their son’s chin with her finger. “Jedi die for the good of the galaxy.” Her voice hitched. “I’m so sorry, Yadier. I’m so sorry I couldn’t find a place to keep you safe. You’ll always be my verd’ika. My little warrior. Please know I love you. Please forgive me.”

Din’s breath caught in his throat as he heard his son shriek, as his son saw the blade come for him, gagged as the blade plunged into his throat.

Xi’an’s blade.

Din’s vision threatened to grey out as he saw Xi’an’s blade in Rayne’s hand pull back covered in Yadier’s blood.

No… no…

The vision faded with the life force of his dead son.

Everything he had given up. His life. Everything he had fought for. Everything he had bled for. Everything he had almost died for. Everything most of the covert had died for.

Gone.

He had trusted her. They had bled together. Fought together. Fucked together. How many times had she taken him? How many times had he trusted her with his bare skin? With his bare face in the dark?

This wasn’t the Dark Side. She would’ve tried to turn Yadier if it had been. The Sith would never leave behind such a prize as his son without trying to turn him first.

This was betrayal.

Cold, hard betrayal.

He picked his helmet up and stormed back to the chamber where he had last seen her, neglecting to put the helmet back on, murder in his heart.

He stalked the length of a Jedi temple bare-faced, not realizing it.

The halls were empty.

Rayne was alone in the chamber, trying to focus.

She’d had an unusual amount of trouble over the last twenty minutes, unsure as to why. Jenkins had left to prepare some tea to see if that would help.

And so it was that she was alone with her eyes already closed and her back to the door when Din stepped in with his helmet off.

Something was wrong.

Something was so, very wrong.

She opened her eyes but did not turn around, blood running cold in her veins. “Din…?”

“You murdered him.” His voice was little more than a low, hard growl.

“What?”

“You heard me.” She felt his boot between her shoulder blades as he kicked her forward. She fell into it and rolled to her back, eyes still closed, and heard the clatter of his helmet hitting the floor before he stepped forward and snapped binders onto her wrists. He hauled her up by the shoulders, hands gripping hard enough to bruise, and slammed her back to the wall. “You murdered our son.” He threw his memory at her, the dying memory of his sweet, innocent, little boy.

Her own face. One of Xi’an’s blades in her hand. Covered in her son’s blood.

Oh, shit.

Rayne scrambled for an answer in her mind. This was either a Sith attack, or a Council simulation of one. Both had grave consequences, but it was best to treat it like the real thing.

“Din, you need to put your helmet back on. Right now.” The beskar would protect him from a distant attack. A closer one, though… she wasn’t sure.

Instead, he pinned her to the wall with his left forearm across her chest. With his right hand, he drew his knife from his boot, and brought it to her throat.

And with that one motion, he broke his promise to her.

A promise made months ago. His vow to never draw a weapon on her again. The vow he had resigned himself to breaking, but under what he had planned for being very different circumstances. Her unwilling submission to the Dark Side. A gradual slide that would have displayed symptoms, nightmares, things that would have prepared him, things that would have told him that her actions were no longer according to her will, and thus would have broken his heart in a slow, soft way.

But not this. Not this sudden betrayal. She’d played him for months. Played at caring for him, played at caring for both him and his son, played at wanting a family. Only to turn around and destroy it in an instant. This… this had broken his heart with a brittle snap.

In this moment, that promise was the last thing on his mind.

“Look at me,” he growled.

“No.”

“Look at me!” Suddenly a roar.

“No.” His rage, hot and overwhelming, poured over her. His raw desire to plunge his knife through her throat bled out of his thoughts and into her mind. And the thing was… he was holding back. He wanted his revenge hot. Wanted to take his time with it. Wanted to make her suffer. Wanted it to get messy. Everything she had warned him against was ignored in this moment in his indulgence of hate and wrath.

It would slow him down, and she hoped she could use it to her advantage.

“Why aren’t you wearing your helmet, Din?”

“You murdered him. You were his mother. I let you be his mother. You pretended to be his mother. You let him think you were his mother. He called you buir and you let him do it. Our son! You swore an oath to our son and you did this!” His voice grated like broken glass.

Rayne cast about, searching for the source of Din’s delusions, trying to determine what she was fighting against before she did anything that would only catch him in the crossfire. His blinding rage made the task nearly impossible, like searching for distant stars while they were blocked out by the sun at high noon.

His weight against her chest pressed harder. “Look at me.” His Mando’a accent was coming on full force, rolling his R’s and raising his vowels. “I should’ve seen this coming.” He swallowed, then sucked in a sudden breath of air. “I did see this coming. At Takodana. You as much admitted that you would sacrifice him. For the good of the fucking galaxy. Then we got here. You realized he was too powerful. Too tempting for the Imps. You realized he’s not safe here, either. So you went and fucking did it.”

“No… Din… that’s not… “

She felt the stubble on his jaw as he brought the side of his face to hers. “That’s not why? What, then. Was it because you didn’t want to be his mother? Because he wasn’t your own blood? Because the Jedi cut that part out of you?” She almost opened her eyes on him for that one.

“Was it because you can’t give us a child of our own?” He released his arm from her chest, blade still at her throat, and slid his free hand down, his fingers gliding low over her belly and her skin crawled. “Because what I give you has nothing to take root in?” His voice betrayed a tremor. “That we can’t mix our blood and make a life?” He brought his lips close to her ear. “You know that means nothing to me. You know this. You know what matters more. That we protect the son that we had at all costs. That we shed our own blood for him. We did that. Both of us opened our veins for him. And then you turned and opened his.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Please,” she felt his breath hot on her skin. “Stop lying to me.”

“Din…”

He backed off just enough to be able to look at her face. “Was it because you didn’t want him to be raised as a Mandalorian at all? Because maybe he’d take up the armor? And you couldn’t handle the thought of that. Because you flinch every time you see me in it. Because you can’t stand the sight of me, and you couldn’t stand the thought of our son wearing it too. Because it reminds you of a man who was nothing more than a clone of a fake Mandalorian who sold himself to the Republic.”

He brought his left hand up to her throat, and her breath began to whistle as he slid the flat of his blade down her sternum. “Helmet’s off, Rayne. Get a good look. I’m nothing like him. No chip in my head. Not programmed to kill you, like some droid. I’m going to kill you because I want to. Because of what you did.”

Breathing was getting difficult. She wasn’t sure how long she could go before she would be forced to act blindly, not knowing what she was fighting. She kept looking. Kept looking but not seeing…

“Was it because you thought I would devote him to the manda and leave you behind?” He pressed his head to hers. “I never told you. It’s too late for me. I’m already dar’manda. I lost my soul the moment I swore the Creed to the people who murdered my parents.” He pressed his lips to the skin just next to her eye. “You might as well look. There’s nothing to see. I have no soul.” He pulled away just enough for her to see his face if she chose to do so, but she did not.

“Do you know what dar’buir means?”

She’d never heard the phrase before, but it was easy enough to string together. “I know what it means.”

“Say it.”

“No.”

He brought his head to hers once more. “It’s what you’ve made us. Now that you’ve taken our son, you are no longer a mother. I am no longer a father. I have no soul. I have no son. I no longer serve a purpose.” He placed the hilt of his blade in her bound hands, angling the point to his gut, just below the bottom of his chestplate. “End it. Finish what you started and end me. I want to look my murderer in the eye when it happens. Please give me that much.”

“I didn’t do this.” Her mind raced. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” His voice was a low growl.

“I was so focused on teaching Yadier how to… how to protect himself from the Dark Side… it never occurred to me to teach you. Put your helmet on. Please. You have to put your helmet on. Someone else… someone’s in your head. Put your helmet on and it’ll stop.”

“Sorcery and fairy tales,” he grated out. He took his knife back. “Was it because you wanted to see what you were worth to me without him? Because you didn’t know what you were to me? Because I could only connect myself to you through him?”

Now, she felt hot tears on her face. They were not her own. “I loved him.” The tears soaked through his voice. “You murdered someone I loved. And of all the things you could’ve used to do it, you…” A small choking sound hung in his throat. “You used the blade that belonged to someone who…” Now his body shook against hers. “Someone who’d had all the love beaten out of her. Got… turned into a monster. Someone I abandoned because that monster scared the shit out of me. I didn’t lift a finger to help her. I turned tail like a coward and I ran.” He swallowed a sob. “And you killed our son with her blade.”

Now his rage was shot through with sorrow, and that was somehow worse. It was all so real as it soaked through her with his tears.

“He loved you, Rayne. He loved you so much. I thought you loved him. You had me convinced. I really thought you loved him. I thought, maybe…” He paused, trying to steady himself, taking long breaths. “I thought maybe you loved me too.” He swallowed again, his mouth dry. “Did you ever love me? Were you ever even capable of it?”

She bit the tears back, refusing to answer him this way.

He mistook her silence as a “No.”

His sorrow fell away and was replaced by anger as he pulled her head away from the wall only to slam her back.

For one terrifying second, her eyes flew open at the impact. She didn’t see much. Through the tears and the blur of motion, she only caught a vague impression of his face; a dark mop of hair, brows over brown eyes, chiseled jaw. But mostly what she saw was rage.

White. Hot. Rage.

She didn’t know where his manipulator was. She didn’t know how far away. She didn’t know if she could break through it. She did know he would kill her if she didn’t try.

“I love Yadier, Din.”

“You murdered him.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I watched it happen. I watched you murder our son. He trusted you. He loved you. I trusted you.” She felt his head press against hers once more, his breath ragged. “I loved you.”

Oh, god.

Then he really started to squeeze, and she struggled to breathe.

“I want to see your eyes when you die. I want to see your eyes when I do to you what you did to our son.”

She was at the end of her rope. Now or never. “I’m… sorry… Din…”

She brought everything she had to the front of her mind, focused it to a sharp point, and threw it at him.

His hand left her throat and she heard him land a few meters away, armor clanking, helmet skittering along the floor. “PUT IT ON!” she shouted. She shouted and envisioned it at the same time, pushing under the foreign Force that had gripped him, replacing it, grasping for the helmet with his hands. She felt him struggle against her, felt something that wasn’t him resist her. Drawing another breath, she threw her mind against the Darkness, screaming with the effort.

In that brief moment, the Darkness lifted from Din’s mind, and he saw clearly.

In all that horrible clarity, he understood.

He reached for the helmet, grabbed it, and once again, felt the Darkness wrap around him, catch his arms, push the helmet away. He looked to Rayne, still shackled, eyes closed, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, chest heaving as she sucked in as much air as she could. “Help!” he called out.

He felt her response immediately, felt her hands in his mind, felt them push their way down from his shoulders, down his arms, joining with his own hands, her arms joining with his arms, and together they brought the helmet to his head, together they fought against the Darkness, and finally slammed it home.

The Darkness fell away.

Banished by the beskar.

Rayne sank to her knees.

What have I done?

She heard ragged gasps from under the helmet as he struggled to regain himself. She heard the clink of a knife being picked up and shoved back into a boot, the scrape of beskar sliding across the floor, approaching, Din apparently not trusting his legs.

She was shaking. “Ni ceta… I’m so sorry…” he said, voice pitched low, wavering, and she turned her face towards him, eyes still closed. He undid the binders on her hands. He held her steady as they both sank to the floor. “You can open your eyes now.” He brought her hands to the helmet, all the proof he could give her. “Please open your eyes.”

She complied, and something in his chest nearly crushed him to death when he saw how bloodshot her eyes were. “What the hell was that?”

“Dark Side,” she said. She brought a hand up to grasp a pauldron. “I’m sorry… I didn’t think to train you against it…”

“No… no, no… I’m sorry. I almost killed you…” His hand shook as he wiped the blood away from her mouth. Her throat was already starting to turn purple. He knew the lines would match the shape of his own hand, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to handle the sight of it. “I saw… god… it looked so real… Rayne… I’m so sorry…”

“Who took your helmet off?”

“No one. I was alone. I… thought I was alone. I was just getting some water. I’d just gotten through a flask of water when I saw…” He dropped his head, unable to stifle the shudder that wracked through him. “I saw you kill him. I saw you kill Yadier. It sounds so crazy now, but it was so real…”

“It wasn’t. Someone got into your head. Someone knew what would hurt you the most and put it there.”

“I heard him cry, Rayne. I heard him scream.” The words choked out of the modulator and he couldn’t stop shaking.

“I know. I know how real it seems. We have to get out of here. We have to find him.”

A small figure entered the chamber. Yandia. “A test, this was. Passed it, you did not.”

Rayne felt Din’s body flood with rage once more. “You did this? You did this to me?”

“What you are up against I showed you. Vulnerable to the Dark Side you are.”

“It’s my fault,” Rayne broke in. “I didn’t prepare him. It never occurred to me that the Sith would bother with anyone who wasn’t Force-sensitive.”

“Anyone who claims to guard one as powerful as Yadier, the Sith will attack. Unqualified you are.”

Din’s body was still tense as he kept himself between Yandia and Rayne. “I can train for Force-resistance. Let me train for this.”

“Half your lifespan you have lived. Difficult such training will be. Success, I doubt.”

“He’s my son. Let me be a father to my son.” Din’s tone was an odd mix of pleading and anger.

“Consider it, we will. Reunited for now, you are.” Yandia beckoned beyond the doorway, and Yadier toddled around the corner, much to his parents’ relief. “Shielded from your ordeal he was. Know of your pain he does not.”

Sensing his parents’ inability to move, the youngling crossed the distance between them as quickly as his little legs would carry him, arms outstretched. “Buir!” he cried as he collapsed into their pile on the floor.

Din scooped him up and held him tightly in one arm, Rayne in the other. “Ad’ika,” he murmured. “Oh, ad’ika, you’re ok…”

They were left alone to huddle like that for a long time.

“I’m sorry,” Din repeated, his trembling abated, his hold on his family still tight.

“I know you didn’t mean it,” Rayne said, her head nestled in the space between his chestplate, pauldron, and helmet, one arm wrapped around his back.

“That’s the thing…” he paused, gathering himself. “I meant a lot of it. Fears I thought I was over.” He paused again, unsure, then decided that if he was speaking about truth, then all of it was necessary. “Something I wasn’t ready to admit.”

Rayne took a deep breath. “That’s how the Dark Side works. It takes what you know and twists it inside out. Makes your actions the lie.”

Yes, that was it, exactly. Her understanding melted away a small part of his guilt. But there was so much more hanging over them. “Rayne… do you…” The words hung in his throat, and he hated that he couldn’t seem to say them now, on his own, when he wasn’t being manipulated.

“Let’s do that part over later, ok? Not here. Not like this.”

He let out a relieved breath. “Yes. Later.”

Yadier burbled, apparently agreeing with their decision. As if to seal the deal, he turned to his mother, crawled into her lap, and reached up with his hands. Taking his meaning, Rayne leaned her face down to him so he could place his hands on her, one on her face, one on her throat. They both closed their eyes and she sighed as she felt the Force of her son flow through her, heal the bruise she knew had been forming at her throat, heal the bloodshot of her eyes that she had seen in her reflection from Din’s helmet. When he was done, he released his mother and smiled, letting out a happy coo. Din ran a finger along his son’s ear. “Good work, verd’ika.”

Yandia and Jenkins returned to the chamber, joined by Ona, Yandia clearing his throat to announce their presence. “Much to discuss, you and I have, Mandalorian. Rayne and Master Jenkins have much work to do as well. Master Ona can bring Yadier back to class.”

The clan of Rollins-Djarin picked themselves up. Din handed Yadier to Ona with one last tap of his forehead to Yadier’s, their little boy squeaking with happiness and a wave goodbye. He then held both of Rayne’s hands in his. They were still for a moment, as she gazed through the visor, knowing he was meeting her gaze with his own. When he was ready, he tipped his head and they released each other at the same time, and he followed Yandia out into the hall.

Jenkins motioned to a small table in the corner of the chamber with cups and a kettle.

“So. About that tea…”

#the mandalorian #din djarin #grogu

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nachoscheesy · 3 years

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Tumblr Revival

Tl;dr

Tumblr has a large interconnected community of artists and content creators, and should focus on its strengths and what it does right. Instead of trying to compete for space against Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. Tumblr should focus on empowering its community and giving that community the tools to develop the site's unparalleled uniqueness.

Tumblr is the crossroads of the internet, with a monthly user traffic of 300 million it is the perfect space for artists, content creators, and small businesses to grow their following without having to fight for a seat at the table against companies with huge budgets.

Hi, I go by Nacho here on tumblr, and I'm sure as many of us on tumblr have noticed, the (hell)site is kinda going downhill. Tumblr was bought by Automattic in fall of 2019, and I am sure they have the best intentions to help tumblr stay afloat. However, I think it's time the community took a more deliberate approach to how tumblr is handled, and hopefully Automattic and @staff will hear us out. I think I have a solid solution to tumblrs money issues, that will help both the site and empower its online communities.

First and foremost, I am not involved with Tumblr or Automattic. I am just a simple blog trying to help out a place that I've been on since 2010, and I would hate to see it die here around 2023.

So, let's get to the root of the problem on tumblr right now. That being money, tumblr is currently costing more money that it produces, as we've seen with its 97% drop in value from 1.1 billion dollar sale to being sold at around 3 million dollars.

So the first thing that must be improved before anything else can be improved on tumblr is how much money they're bringing in a month. I don't think folks on tumblr hate monetization as much as we all collectively say we do, I think the issue is that most advertisers are completely disconnected from the groups they are trying to advertise to on here. Tumblr comprises roughly 65% millennials and 30% gen-z, the two generations that advertisers seem to have the hardest time advertising to for a myriad of reasons. The main one being that they don't fully understand what we want, and sometimes just don't listen to what we are saying.

Lets look at how tumblr makes its money, Tumblr has four main revenue sources,

Ads by sponsored posts

Display ads through video posts

Sponsored Day ads or banner ads

“Premium Themes”

I'll go into depth on all of these and how tumblr could make potential changes to improve their revenue anywhere from three to six months after it implements some or ideally all of these changes.

First tumblr ads and sponsored posts, these changes are going to be contingent on tumblr allowing its users to share, like, and comment on ads much like all other media sites currently allow. Or at least giving advertisers the ability to turn that on or off as a function.

The average tumblr post gets reblogged 14 times, that number increases significantly if the ad is engaging and actually caters to the communities wants and needs. My reasoning for giving users the ability to reblog ads is to increase user engagement while maintaining their current ad vetting process and all of the nonsensical ads that are run on tumblr 90% of the time.

The other reason for allowing tumblr users to share and comment on ads, or have it be an option for advertisers to turn on or off as they'd like, is that the appeal of tumblr is the ability to propagate and obsess over the most niche things (i.e OSHA.)

All the while allowing content that gets shared all over the internet bubble up to the top through the collective hand of the tumblr community. Along with this tumblr has no way for small users to share their own products or services, every single major site has a way for users to advertise their pages or products through the site.

Tumblr is a content machine that creates imagery and memes that get shared all the time across the internet, so the ability to share and curate its own ads is paramount to improving advertising and user engagement on tumblr.

My proposal here is for tumblr to expand its advertising capabilities to all users, while charging a flat rate fee to advertise on tumblr, with additional charges for popular tags or trending tags. Tumblr currently has no self service advertising system much like Facebook does for example. Where facebook charges a daily rate on cost-per-click(CPC) or cost-per-thousand(CPM)

Charging a flat rate fee at a rate of a day, week, month, or quarterly basis with variances in prices based on the lease term and what the advertisers would want to have their ads show up on certain tags. This would open up the doors for small businesses that don't want to advertise on places like facebook, twitter, or google with their complicated CPM and CPC models. Also bringing in more small locally owned businesses with the added value of less competition for ad space on tumblr.

This would also take some of the weight from tumblrs own advertising staff from having to explain a convoluted system to potential advertisers. Creating a simplified model with the the advent of tumblrs own infrastructure able to get a single post to a large variety of users. Where the current ad model uses a “shotgun” method to hit as many people as possible, the tumblr model could encourage advertisers to curate a more personalized and intimate experience that tumblr users would love.

Why not just advertise elsewhere? Tumblr still in fact gets over 300 million views a month as of June 2021 (Statosta), and the added benefit for users to be able to like, share, and interact with ads would allow ads that the community enjoys to be talked about more. Giving advertisers more honest feedback about their ads while increasing their SEO’s.

Also small businesses that can't compete with the vetting processes that are used on other sites, would have a better chance of developing their business and increasing their clientele on tumblr whose core demographics are approximately 60% millennial and 35% gen-z. This core demographic does in fact care about being able to shop at local stores, or even a store across the US that is trying to drum up its own online sales.

These ads could be placed inline on the tumblr dash while moving other sponsored ads to the right of the site on desktop, but making them alternate on mobile between user ads and sponsored ads.

Second, the display ads should be changed to allow tumblr users to share and further interact with ads to generate more user engagement, incentivizing more businesses and companies to build their brand status on tumblr. Tumblr has a good model for creating short diaries or daily vlogs for companies that wish to show off their products on social media. This includes smaller businesses and vlogers that want to post videos or tutorials of themselves on their blog.

Tumblr is a good site for user engagement with a pool of creative potential for anyone wanting to gauge the desire for a particular subject or piece of media, maybe even an upcoming show. Having the ability to share and comment on sponsored ads would also help advertisers by allowing them to get more bang for their buck with a considerable uptick on how users engage with that content.

Third, tumblrs sponsor day ads and banner ads are inexpensive and should be highlighted as a selling point over their competitors. Tumblr 24-hour banner ads are considerably more affordable for businesses when compared to places like twitter with their 200k price point. For the same amount of money on tumblr a business could have their company at the top of the dashboard or app for 8 whole days. Much longer and much better than the competition.

Keeping this price fixed, with a change in the price CPC is still a much more lucrative and attractive selling point than any of the competition on the internet today. I know this might not be exactly what tumblr wants to hear when it is hemorrhaging money right now, but let's look at the cost for these 24 hour daily ads and banner ads. If tumblr hypes up the price point on these ads they could see a significant rise in advertisers considering the lack of competition on tumblr and past success stories of companies who did advertise on tumblr.

At the same time larger advertisers should be encouraged to make engaging ads and blogs on tumblr that will make people want to actually go to their blogs, that then link to an external site or page. Not ads that instantly try to force you to go to some other site, by rewarding or offering special discounts for people who find a special code or something off of the actual blog. Or even for giving the same code to everyone who reblogs a certain post made by the advertiser.

Seems too good to be true? Look at “Asos” back in 2015 when they held a shirt design competition on their tumblr blog. Where they had 900 submissions, four of which were picked, and were sold out of the user generated shirts in 10 hours.

This is not the only case however, but FX ran their own campaign for the show “Man Seeking Woman” where they saw a 2.8% increase in user engagement, 86% increase in their tumblr followers, and they actually saved money through advertising on tumblr.

All this leads me to believe that tumblr actually was and continues to be the best place for brands, small businesses, and artists to develop themselves through genuine user engagement.

Finally, the “premium themes” that are available on tumblr that allow for unparalleled customizations that you hardly find elsewhere on the internet anymore. Tumblrs ability to take a variety of media sources, as well as having an unparalleled level of customization, user interconnectivity, and a vibrant artistic scene shows that it is ripe with potential.

Tumblr could still use its post+ feature, but in the same way that Discord uses its subscription service. For cosmetic changes that can be added modularly to the site or individual blogs for an additional monthly fee. In conjunction with partnering with community artists to bring small cosmetic additions to individual blogs, while paying the content creator and tumblr taking a small portion of the profits over a certain amount.

To be completely honest this is probably the hardest portion of this entire pitch to make changes to in a shorter period of time, considering all the testing and “under the hood” changes that must be made. However, I think that implementing this as well as the other changes I have proposed will bring back more foot traffic to tumblr as well as increase its revenue and profitability.

In closing, I am simply working with whatever information I was able to find online and a good amount of time invested on my part to do this. I think tumblr has a ton of potential still to return as a force for good for the communities that exist and want a change from what the internet has become. Time and time again when any company or public entity dies it was because it did not change and refused to adapt and innovate, oftentimes not at the hands of the people working everyday to keep the site running. Instead at the hands of people who dont see the value in what has fallen in their laps.

If you agree and think this is something that can be done, please reblog this post and follow me for more updates. If I don't hear back or this does not gain any traction by the end of the year, then tumblr can go to its inevitable end. I will be here sinking with the ship.

@support @engineering @music @wip @changes @photomatt

#tumblr plus #tumblr post plus #tumblr staff #advertising #marketing strategy #changes #tumblr premium #post plus protest #community #automattic

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mrpenguinpants · 3 years

Text

Childe: First Kiss HCs

I tend to make things gender neutral by not putting in pronouns and just using “you” but you can definitely read this as female^^ But I completely agree, I love this boy so much. He’s my favourite character to play (im so sorry razor) until Xiao comes out. I literally have a genshin team named “waiting for xiao” and it’s just Childe and Zhongli haha.

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Today’s appreciation post goes to childes-starconch. Fitting that this is a Childe fic but ty for your support^^ I always notice you pop up as soon as I post a fic and I really enjoy seeing you. Hopefully you read this since tumblr won’t let me tag people, for whatever reason I don’t know anymore, but just saying hey, I see you 💕💕

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I’m just gonna piggy back off my last Childe fic. I’m sorry.

Semi Part 1: Fiance HCs [honestly, one of my favourites haha]

Xiao Ver: First Kiss HCs

Venti & Kaeya: Mistletoe HCs

Venti, Xingqiu, and Razor: Kissing HCs

[Masterlist]

---

[taglist] <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@hanniejji @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @twistedsunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover@youaskedfurret @snowy224

@youaskedfurret @diaxfeliz @wintergreen-aix @dandelily @thegayrubberducky @lovelykittycatmeow @yuunoagivesmelife @dokidokisama @simpygrimoire @minakohasmanyhusbandos @strwbrry-lia @tigerpriestess

For some reason I can’t @ certain people. I’m talking to tumblr about it.

---

Childe: First Kiss HCs

Childe was never one to shy away from affection, be it holding your hand in his or wrapping an arm around you, he was always happy to be close to you. He was always a bit territorial which lead to some embarrassing situations for you but it was from a good place in his heart. But when it came to public kisses, he preferred to keep it between you two. It felt too private of a moment that he didn’t want to broadcast to the rest of the Fatui, especially to the other Harbingers. That is to say, if he actually kissed you in the first place. For all the two braincells Childe had, one was fighting and the other was protecting his loved ones, just imagining kissing you was too much for him and he needed to go find some poor recruit and beat his inner problems out. The Fatui recruitment process would always dwindled down during his inner turmoil sessions that Scaramouche himself, had to throw his goddamn hat at Tartaglia, and yell at him to hurry up and fix his problem. It was clogging up the air.

When he tried to think about it, it shouldn’t be this hard to simply lean in for a kiss. But it was his first and while Childe might run into whatever danger or prospect of a fight without a second thought, he didn’t want to ruin it. What if he accidently bonked his forehead with yours? He should remove his mask then right? Just in case? He’s only given forehead and cheek kisses to his younger siblings so it should be the same right? Yeah he could do this, this was just another battle for Tartaglia to conquer!

But whenever he would see you or you would both sit and bask in each other’s presences. He couldn’t bring himself to initiate something or heck, even looking at your face made him a bit hot under the collar in sub-zero temperatures. He can almost hear Scaramouche and Signora laughing maniacally at him behind their hands. He’s the youngest of the Harbingers, he should get a “get out of jail for free” card that all youngest children have whenever they get into trouble. But in this case it’s murder. He quickly slaps his cheeks to get his mind off fighting for one second which startles you beside him.

The first time you’ve seen Childe shy was when he first confessed to you, stuttering that he liked you and just really badly wanted to hold your hand without using the frost of Sneznaya as an excuse. You flushed pink but nodded that you returned his feeling and slipped your hand in his. Whatever shyness Childe had was quickly wiped off his face and he cheered and brought you in for an eskimo kiss. Rubbing your nose with his as he laughed in joy, the tips of his ears and cheeks still coloured pink. You always hold that memory dear to your heart because not only was it the start of your relationship, it was the first time you felt you were staring at Ajax. Not Childe. Not Tartaglia. Just Ajax.

But now, you’re not to sure what to call this. Lately he seemed to be out of it, always staring off into space or frowning at some poor poor snowmen that did not deserve that much pressure. Was being a harbinger starting to take it’s toll on him? Did something terrible happen to his family or was the Tsaritsa being too hard on him? You were beginning to get concerned because you’ve never seen this much mental turmoil in him. This never really happened before and he usually bounced back pretty fast. Would it be better if you left him be and he sorted it out himself? Would it be better if you asked?

Childe is startled out of his thoughts of possible committed murder because he’s too scared to ask his own partner if kissing was something they could do, when he felt your hand slowly nudge his. No matter how many times he holds your hand, you’re always warm. It could be snow storming outside and the only heater he would need would be you. He offers a small but warm smile as he laces his fingers with yours. He remembers when you first started going out he was so scared about boundaries and what was okay. Brushing your fingers together and overall, not doing a good job at saying he wanted to hold hands that even he cringes slightly at his younger self - even though it wasn’t that long ago and he’s doing it again just with kisses - but now he borderline clings to you like some overgrown animal. Scaramouche’s words, not his.

It’s still evening in Snezhnaya and the Tsaritsa herself seems to be taking a vacation because there’s only a light snow falling down between the two of you. You’re both sitting outside his house while his family is inside, warm and having fun playing games. He breathes in, closes his eyes, and let’s the world fade away just a second. He slowly brings his other hand to cup your cheek, his hands are always numb and the tiny pin pricks are dancing on his fingers again before they fade away too, and guides you towards him so he can place a small kiss on your fore head. Then tilts your face to the side so he can kiss your cheek. Brings his nose near yours to nuzzle against. Then hesitates when his lips hover above yours.

“Ajax is there something bothering you?” you ask softly, you’re so close to each other that all you can see is him. The small puffs of breathe you both take bounce off each other’s face before evaporating into the air. You never really took the time to appreciate Ajax’s bright blue eyes. His pupil from this distance seems to be slitted too.

“Hm? Ah no, of course not. Where did you get that idea?” he tries to laugh it off and tries to move back before you quickly bring your hand to the back of his head and nudge him forward so he stays in place. It wasn’t like him to run away from something, it was really starting to bother you what could get Ajax of all people to retreat from something.

“You know if there’s anything that’s bothering you, you can talk to me right?” you asked as you brought both your hands to cup his face as you softly rubbed circles just under his ear. He closed his eyes and hmmed happily at your actions and nuzzled further into your hand before turning his head inward to kiss your palm. Before relaxing and parting his eyelids half way as he seemed to be back in concentration mode. Before awkwardly saying what was troubling him these past few days.

“So wait, you mean to tell me that this entire time I was worried about you. How out of it you were and how many fights you’ve been getting into. Was because you wanted a kiss?” you asked dumfounded as he pouted but nodded. You sighed but bonked your foreheads together softly, “You’re such an idiot....C’mere.”

“Wha-”

You grab the scarf on his harbinger uniform and tug him forward as your lips slot over his. You kiss him hard and for a few seconds as Ajax just stares at you as his brain tries to catch up, before his eyes seem to dilate and he kisses you back just as hard. All his past worries are quickly thrown out the window as slowly pushes you on your back, cushioned by the soft snow, as he basks in the feeling. It’s a bit sloppy given this is both your first kisses but that’s what adds to the charm. You both have to separate at some point for oxygen but Childe looks like he’s ready to dive in again.

“One more,” he pants as he goes in for another but you quickly place your hand in the way so he ends up kissing your palm. He whines but you chuckle at him, place a small kiss on the back of your palm of where his lips would be, and push him off you. You’re both still outside his families home and you aren’t in the mood to be caught in this kind of position. Especially not in front of his younger siblings. He rests his cheek on your shoulder and looks at you, trying to make his eyes bigger and look like a kicked puppy. You sigh as you give a small pet on his head, running your fingers through your hair. What a troublesome partner you’ve gotten.

“Alright, one more.”

---

My entire taglist was just made for the “Enemies” to “Lovers” post and I still haven’t started hehe. Trust me, it’s coming. I’ve got requests for it and we’re slowly getting there. The entire time I’m writing this I’m just thinking “honey..no, that’s not how this works.” God you’re so dumb. I hate you. You’re my favourite character. Pour one out for Xiao, I was going to make this a crack fic too but ended up making it somewhat serious.

So yeah, xiao is a cat and childe is a fox. In other news, water is wet. But I did actually google fox behaviors just for this shitpost. ALRIGHT TIME TO SPIN THE WHEEL OF “WILL TUMBLR BE NICE TO ME?” OR DO I NEED TO DOUBLE REPOST AGAIN.

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xpeachesncream · 3 years

Text

bands | eleven

[ series masterlist ]

summary: jeon jungkook has it all: the looks, the fame, the money, the women. being considered the sexiest man in the industry, he finds no complaints about the way his life is going nor does he find any reason to apologize for the way he approaches it. he is a force to be reckoned with - until he meets you.

pairing: stripper!reader x idol!jjk

genre: (18+) strip club/nightlife au, post grad au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 5.2k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, club scene, alcohol consumption, mentions of intoxication, mentions of dancing at the club, little bit of those insecurities coming back into play, good ol’ phone sex in the hotel room, mutual masturbation, unprotected sex, oral (m. & f. receiving), multiple orgasms, fingering, breast play, doggy style, hair pulling, slight choking, creampie

tags: @brightcolorsoffendme @min-nicoleee @eggbutnotyolk @ra-mun-e @miinoongi @jimidol @ppeachyttae @thebeebi @bluesharksandfish @kooafraid @liriaus @thisartemisnevermisses @ggukkieland @preciouschimine @sunniejinnie @cypheruby @cyb3rbab3 @masterlists101 @awhnamjoon @redhedhoseok @wooya1224 (please message me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

"Club tonight before we go back home?" Taehyung grips onto Jungkook's shoulders as they walked out of the venue and into their cars that would take them back to the hotel.

"Club?"

"Yeah, come on. Everyone said yes so far! It's been so long since all of us have gone to the club together without it being a special occasion." Jungkook sighs. That statement was true, and he did love being able to hangout with everyone all together. However, he can't lie - he missed you. He barely had time to text or call you this entire trip like he wanted, and he all he wanted was to hear your voice and see your face until he could finally have you physically in his arms again.

"Fuck." Jungkook does a slight head tilt before letting out a small sigh. "Yeah, I'll come along." Taehyung smiles from ear to ear, squeezing his shoulder.

"I'm sure your girl won't mind if we steal you for a little tonight." Jungkook doesn't respond to Tae's statement and simply shakes his head with a small smile. To be honest, the guys were a little surprised to see that whole thing erupt between Jungkook and Bigs. They didn't think he was actually serious about you, the mysterious girl. Jimin, on the other hand, wouldn't dare say a word and simply lent a small chuckle or smile as his participation during their 'lets tease jeongguk' hours. But eventually, it all became a running joke and the boys learned to leave Jungkook alone because as they've learned before, Jungkook does what Jungkook wants.

He gets away with shit.

He cleans himself up and throws on a button up shirt with ripped black jeans and boots, fluffing his hair a bit before he steps back out and meets up with the boys.

[jungkook] 9:49pm: going out with the boys tonight

[y/n] 9:51pm: lol cheer up, have fun party pooper

[jungkook] 9:52pm: fineeeeeeee :( can i call you later?

[y/n] 9:55pm: you can always call me, i just don't know if i'll always pick up :)

[jungkook] 9:57pm: try and stay up please

[y/n] 10:01pm: maybe lol

He slightly smirks to himself. Hopefully you'd stay up, but he was starting to realize you always fell asleep early and that was okay too. He'd just have to wait to see you when he gets back tomorrow.

Once the boys have arrived at the club of choice, security escorts them to their VIP section, the club already packed from wall to wall with people screaming left and right. There's already a few bottle girls, and other girls waiting for them in the VIP from lord knows where, but Jungkook knows he's not trying to mess with any of it tonight. He truly didn't wanna be here, but to keep his boys happy, he decided to tag along and hang out.

"So many beautiful ladies." Jimin swings his arm around his torso and smirks.

"Go get 'em, champ." Jungkook chuckles.

"I would, if they all weren't eyeing you." He shakes his head.

"She's not eyeing me, she's looking at you." He nods towards a pretty, fair-skinned female with long, voluminous black hair. She's definitely eyeing Jimin, biting onto the tip of her finger as she tries to seduce him through her eyes. Her look. "Go." Jungkook slightly pushes him towards her, smiling as he stood back and watched. The rest of the boys were already enjoying themselves, either dancing around alone [aka Min Yoongi and Seokjinnie] or hopping behind girls for a dance.

"Why aren't you dancing with anyone?" Yoongi laughs. "I figured you would be the first to hop on someone."

"I don't feel like it." He takes a sip of his drink, hand dug deep into his pocket.

"You don't feel like it, or you're too busy missing your girlfriend?" Jin joked.

"I don't have a girlfriend!"

"Mhm, sure." Jin laughs. "You could at least reward yourself with a dance." Jungkook shrugs. Technically, he could. It was just a dance, and you still weren't his girlfriend even though he thought of you pretty seriously. But he knew how this would go, and it would get messy quick - especially with the way females nowadays loved to create drama and claim him. He wasn't up for it. And he didn't wanna do anything to hurt you, or disappoint you. The thought alone makes him feel terrible. You were just so pure-hearted, there was no way he could do anything to hurt your feelings.

"Aye!" Jimin comes over and grabs him by the shoulders, swinging him around to face the ladies once more. "That girl I was dancing with is here with her bestfriend."

"And?" Jungkook chuckled. Okay, so? Lol.

"Bro, come on. Just go dance with her and have fun. She's interested in you." He shakes his head, but Jimin is already pushing him over, the force behind his movements stronger than what Jungkook can endure after the day they've had. He clumsily follows along, his lips pursed in a fine line as he approaches Jimin's girl [of the night] and her bestfriend. She had dark brown hair, stood at about 5'7 and wore high waisted shorts and a bralette-type of crop top. She was really trying for some dick tonight. He gives her a small, toothless smile as she beams from ear to ear, shying behind her bestfriend. She was cute, but she was no you, no disrespect.

"This is Yeji!" Her bestfriend exclaims, damn near throwing her right onto Jungkook like her life depended on it. Jungkook places his hands out to support her but brings them back once she's found her footing again. Definitely drunk.

"Hi." She blushes.

"Hey." Jungkook smiles back, sipping on his drink. Jimin is still hanging onto his shoulder, trying his best to egg him on and Jungkook can't help but smile and nod awkwardly at him. He attempts to back away, but Jimin shoves him closer while laughing.

"Have fun!" Jimin flashes him a quick look, confused at what the fuck he was doing right now trying to turn her down like that. But, he instantly flips the switch as he accompanies her bestfriend to the dance floor again.

"Can I get you a drink or something? Water, even?" Jungkook offers to be nice. He can already hear you scolding him in his head - pinching him on the arm and saying that he needs to be nicer to people. But to be honest, he really doesn't know what the fuck to do with her.

"Water's good, I should start sobering up." She giggles as Jungkook nods and pours her a cup of water. He hands it to her and stands beside her, awkwardly eyeing the crowd in front of them. "Hey, I caught your performance today. You looked good! You all looked really good."

"Thanks." He smiles.

"Do you wanna dance for a little?"

"Uh, actually—" Jungkook suddenly feels the both of their bodies press against each other before Jimin's drunk laugh erupts right behind his ear. Jungkook backs away with his hands up, shaking his head.

"Hey come on, if he doesn't wanna dance don't force him." Yoongi says, almost in a scolding manner.

"I'm sorry, I'm just not really in the best dancing mood right now. Pretty tired." He says to Yeji before he gives her an apologetic look and walks over to his hyungs who aren't busy with girls. He's getting more and more annoyed with the way Jimin has been acting lately, but he was trying to keep his cool - careful not to start anything. He knew Jimin wasn't a fan of you with the way he talked about you that one morning before the photoshoot. He loves him, that's his brother for life. But if he wanted to get disrespectful, he didn't have a problem putting him in his place.

Throughout the night, Yeji is sticking to her friend and Jimin, still hoping she could get something started between her and Jungkook, but she doesn't succeed. Jungkook purposely keeps his distance from Jimin and the rest of the girls around them in the VIP section, perfectly content to be staying around Yoongi and Jin.

When they've finally called it a night, Jimin, Taehyung, Namjoon and Hobi are all pretty drunk out of their minds - their asses more than ready to risk it all by sneaking in their girl of choice to their hotel rooms.

"Let me know so Yeji can come too." Jungkook waves his hand to dismiss the statement.

"Nah. I'm good, really, thanks."

"What, all of a sudden you're a goody two shoes for your stripper girlfriend?" Jungkook shoots him a look but brushes it off, blaming it on the alcohol in Jimin's system right now.

"I'm just tired and gonna head to bed, that's it."

"Whatever." Jimin drunkily responds, the four of their drunk asses continuing to be loud as hell in the hallway until they all separate and go off to their own rooms.

"Don't be loud and shit, I want my sleep tonight." Yoongi says before shutting his door.

Finally, peace and quiet.

Jungkook sighs as he looks at his watch, the time nearing 1:30am. He slips out of his clothes, takes a quick shower and gets himself ready for bed before he's shutting off the lights. A hotel bed has never felt so comfortable in his life, but the only thing that was missing was you.

And to be completely honest, he was pretty fucking horny. Having all this pent up sexual frustration just from missing you these past couple of days alone, he couldn't take it. He hopes to god you're awake right now because he's been wanting to hear your voice and hearing your voice alone—

"Jungkook." You say softly on the other line, Jungkook's eyes slightly shutting from the sound of your voice.

Your voice alone was enough to turn him the fuck on.

"You're awake, babygirl."

"Barely." You chuckle. "I'm snuggled into my sheets, but you told me to wait up for you."

"And you actually waited. Thank you, cutie." He smiles to himself. "What'd you do today?"

"Just work my shift at the restaurant, then head home. I don't really do anything outside of work and hangout with Kai, you know this." You chuckle. "How was the club?"

"It was alright." He sighs.

"Did all the pretty ladies get a dance with Jeon Jungkook?"

"Ah, but you're the only pretty lady I know about." He chuckles, making you blush. "But no, I wasn't necessarily in the mood."

"But you're at a club, how could you not be?"

"Too tired. Besides, just wanted to come back here and talk to you. I feel like I haven't gotten to talk to you as much since we've been here."

"It's okay, you need to do what you need to do."

"I can't wait to see you when I get back."

"I can't either."

"You and your pretty face."

"What is up with you? Are you drunk?" You softly laugh.

"No, not really. Why, I can't miss you?"

"Never said that, Jungkook. I miss you, too." You giggled, giving him some affection since it's been a couple of days and you actually missed his presence too.

"Yeah? How much do you miss me, baby?" Your eyes slightly widen cause you can most definitely pick up on his tone, plus the 'baby' pet name made your pussy hop a little. He wanted you, and he knew just the right ways to get to you worked up already.

"A lot."

"Mmm." He hums breathily, causing you to bite your bottom lip. "Are you gonna show me just how much you missed me when I get back?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe, what?" He chuckles deeply. "Tell me, babygirl." He begins to slowly palm himself through his boxers. "How do you want me to show you?" You shut your eyes, the heat quickly building in your core.

"Jungkook." You let out a breathy moan. "What are you trying to do right now?"

"God, I just wanna feel you." He says, completely passing up your question. "I just wanna feel you all around me. Would you like that, my pretty lady? Me all up inside you?" At this point, Jungkook is hard as hell, whipping his hardened member free from its confines. He lets out a breath at how free he feels, finally able to stroke himself nice and slow. He toys with the pre-cum pooling at his tip, using it as some kind of lubricant as he strokes himself up and down, gripping a little tighter towards the base.

"Yes." Your hand slips through your shorts and your panties, gently rubbing at your clit as you listen to Jungkook's deep voice on the other line. You slip your hand a little further down, feeling how wet you already are. You silently whimper to yourself, spreading your wetness in and around your folds, picturing Jungkook doing the work for you.

"Don't be shy, baby. Tell me what you want. Use your words."

"I want you inside of me."

"Inside where?"

"My pussy." He softly groans into the phone, his grip getting tighter by the minute as he fucks himself into his hand.

"Are you touching yourself right now?"

"Yes."

"That's my good girl." He moans with you. "Just wanna fuck you so badly. Show you how special you are to me."

"Jungkook." You whine, as you slip in a finger and quickly fuck yourself with it, the sounds of your wetness echoing in your tiny space. "Fuck I'm so wet for you."

"That's it." He hisses. "Fuck yourself for me until I get back. Can't wait to taste you and fill you up."

"Want you so bad, want you to fuck me so good until I cry." You say, not even realizing the shit you're saying right now as you rub your clit and work your hips in tandem. You begin to whimper a little louder, ready to hurdle off the edge with the pressure you're applying.

"Yeah?" His mouth is agape, barely any noises being released due to the overwhelming sensation that's taking over his body. "Want me to fucking ruin you, baby? Are you ready for that?"

"Always." You moan. "Ahh—Kook, I'm gonna cum."

"Cum all around this dick, sweetheart. It's yours." The words are enough to unravel you, sending you spiraling out of control with the pleasure taking all over your body - inch by inch.

"Oh fuck, Jungkook! Ughhhhhhfffffuck." You groan into the phone as you continue to move your hips into your hand, fingers pressed tightly against your clit.

"Shiiiiiiiit." Jungkook moans as his hips are moving quicker and sloppier, the image of him ramming his cock into you from behind while choking you has him toppling him over the edge. "Mmmmmgod, babygirl."

"The fuck, Jungkook." He chuckles as he regulates his breathing.

"Just miss you, that's all." You hear him stirring in the back, probably cleaning himself up just as you are with yourself. "Stay on the phone with me?" When he does have the time to call you while he's been away, he's always asked for you to stay on the line - facetime or regular call - just so it seems like you're next to him. What you did to deserve this soft Jeon Jungkook, you had no idea. But you were gonna take it and run as far as you could, because fuck. You liked-liked him.

"Okay." You yawn.

"I can still take you out on a date, right?" He yawns shortly after, the domino effect hitting him.

"Of course." You softly chuckle, your eyes getting heavy from all the energy you just spent.

"Okay. I just wanna make sure cause I'm already planning this."

"Planning, huh?"

"Gotta put in the effort." Silence. "Night sweetheart, sleep tight."

"Night." You barely manage to say before you're off into a deep sleep.

You knew Jungkook would be back today, but you weren't sure what time. From the sounds of it, it seemed like it would be really late and you'd have to wait until tomorrow to see him. Which, bums you the fuck out. You just longed for his company and to be in his arms again because it's the safest you've felt in such a long time.

Oh, well.

At least it gave you some time to plan out Kai's birthday gift and celebration cause you still had no fucking idea. He was going to spend majority of the day with his friends at their favorite arcade, but you promised him dinner.

Were you really just going to take him to get Loco Moco from the hawaiian mom and pop shop down the street for his 18th birthday?

What the fuck were you even gonna give him?

You figured you could go shopping for some clothes? Or, check out what new games came out for the playstation that he might be interested in playing. Orrrrr find some comic books and give him--

Knock, knock, knock.

You checked your clock, startled at the heavy knocks coming from your door. It was barely after dinner, the sun still up but preparing to make its way down below the horizon. You had no idea why you suddenly felt nervous and scared, afraid of who you'd see through the peephole. Bigs popped into your head, the goosebumps hitting the surface of your skin. You really hoped it wasn't him trying to cause trouble - or anyone else related for that matter.

You slowly stood up, holding your arms closely against your chest. You tippytoed to check your peephole but it was pitch black, as if someone had been covering it with their finger. Was Kai playing games with you? Did he suddenly get dropped off or take the bus? You didn't have plans with him.

You slowly open a crack, seeing a smiley Jungkook waving at you from behind the door. You swing the door open and latch onto him like a koala, causing him to drop his duffle bag and wrap his arms around you tightly.

"Jungkook, what the fuck! You scared me!" You say into his neck, taking in his scent.

"Why?" He laughs as he gently helps you down and follows you into your apartment.

"It seemed like you weren't gonna be home till late."

"Seemed." He smirked.

"Hey!" You gently push him after you close your door. "How'd you know my door code and which apart—"

"Kai." You both say in unison.

"Ugh, I'm gonna kill him." You whine.

"It's his birthday soon, though. Let him turn 18."

"Ugh, I'm gonna kill him after his birthday." You repeat as you plop back onto your bed, Jungkook dropping his duffle and plopping next to you.

"Cozy place." He says, face down onto your mattress, causing you to run your hand through his fluffy hair.

"It's teeny tiny."

"No, it's perfect. Perfectly sized and cozy." He reassures you as he finally lays on his side to face you.

"Did you just hop off the plane?"

"Sure did."

"Did you eat anything?"

"Yeah, I ate something small on the plane. I'm not that hungry."

"You sure?" You asked, genuinely concerned.

"Mhm." He throws an arm lazily across your legs as he closes his eyes for a quick minute. You continue to run your hand through his hair, a notification on his screen catching your attention.

[unknown number] 6:37pm: hi! this is yeji from the club. :) i hope you don't mind, jimin passed on your number and said we should get into contact.

First of all - Why the fuck does Jungkook have his notifications set so that you can see what the goddamn message is on the lock screen?!

Second - Yeji?

Third - Of course Jimin would have slipped her his number. He hates you for whatever fucking reason.

Another text came in from her but you pulled your eyes away from his phone. This wasn't your business. But let's be real, your heart sank a little knowing he might have been acting up at the club, dancing with hella other girls and getting hella other numbers. It kind of made your insecurities resurface all over again. You weren't his girlfriend though, none of this was exclusive. So, did you really have a right to feel this way?

You brush it off quickly, trying to remind yourself who the hell you were before Jungkook came around [but god, was he making you a softy]. He wasn't exactly yours to claim; however, you were the one he came home to. Technically. Calling you all hot and bothered cause he missed you.

Yes bitch, please.

You're pulled out of your internal battle when Jungkook stirs a little to check his phone, your hand still lightly weaving through his hair as you press your lips together. He reads the notifications, deletes it from the screen and locks his phone again.

"The boys bothering you?" You decide to ask in a way that doesn't yell 'yes I saw her pop up on your phone, sir.'

"Nah. No one important really."

"Oh okay." Bummer. You lowkey expected him to be honest with you, but was that too soon for you? You just through this in your head - this wasn't exclusive.

"Lay with me, pretty lady. Let's watch something."

"You mean finish Gone Girl?" You quickly flip the switch and smirk at him, making him laugh.

"Oh shit, that's right. Not my fault you straddled me." You slightly gasp.

"Not my fault you fucking batted your eyelashes at me, talking about ‘can I tell you something?'" He scrunched his nose and tickled your sides, causing you to yelp and crash your body back down onto the bed. He continues to tickle you until you're begging for him to stop - his body over yours, but he was careful not to put all his weight on you. "Ouch, Jungkook!" You whine.

"You finished making fun of me?"

"You started it!"

"You're so fucking cute, you know that?" He lowers himself down to your lips, pressing them gently against yours. Your hands get tangled within his hair again, pressing him down slightly onto you so you could feel him, feel his warmth. The kiss deepens quick as Jungkook settles himself in between your legs, your tongues at war with each other. He groans into the kiss, his soft, large hands roaming up your shirt and sending sparks throughout your body. "I missed you." He bites your bottom lip and sucks it gently before pulling back. He helps remove the shirt over your head before unhooking your bra in a swift motion and tossing it off to the side.

"I missed you too." You say at a whisper as he grabs both of your breasts and plants kisses along the surface before swirling his tongue around your sensitive, perked buds. He hooks onto your shorts and panties quick, aggressively tugging them down and off.

"So fucking perfect for me." He says, planting kisses along your sides

"I hate it when you do that." You hiss as he begins part your legs wider, pushing your thighs out as he lowers his lips onto your folds. You truly did hate it - you couldn't stand it only because that shit drove you crazy. Someone like Jungkook calling you perfect, god please.

"Hate what, babygirl?"

"Call me perfect like that." You let out a small whimper when you feel his wet tongue glide against your folds, slowly poking in and out of them as he stares at you from between your thighs.

"But you are. Want me to show you?"

"Hmmmm." You whine. "Quit." He slightly chuckles against your pussy, but continues going to work - slipping in two digits and curving them just to tickle you in the right spots. "Ahhhh, Kook please."

"Mhm." He says, picking up the pace with his fingers, allowing your wetness to glaze them. He suddenly removes them from you short after, a small whine leaving your lips at the loss of contact.

"Ohshiiiiiit. You're gonna make me cum." Jungkook begins to run his tongue up and down your pussy once more, his tongue penetrating your entrance ever so slightly before swiping it up to your clit to suck on it. He motorboats into your pussy, his head moving right and left in such a quick pace that you're tugging on his hair and jutting your hips into his mouth. His tongue starts to pet your clit with its tip - the repeated movements enough for you to reach your climax, your thighs almost keeping Jungkook in between until you could bring yourself back down from your high. "Aghhhhohhhmygod!" Jungkook smirks as he sits up, sticking his two fingers into his mouth before releasing himself from his sweats and boxers.

"Fuck, you taste so good." He slightly groans. Your breathing hitches seeing his hardened member, making you drool at the sight. You already feel dizzy imagining him filling you up with that thing, but you knew you wanted take care of him first - make him feel good, make him feel special. Take him, every inch. You crawl over and take his cock into your hands, spitting onto it before you slowly stroke him up and down. "Ohhhhhbabygirl." His words mesh together as he tilts his head back. You lower your lips onto his tip, tasting every single drop of pre-cum pooling at the area before running your tongue down his shaft and taking him. You get about halfway before you swirl your tongue around suck, pulling back with a slight pop. You stroke towards the base as your mouth is doing work on the other half of his cock. Jungkook has his hand in your hair, and you can feel his grip tightening as he slowly moves your head up and down along his cock. "Can you take me? All of me?" You nod. "Yeah? Fucking take it then." He spits out as he lowers you all the way down, keeping his tip against your throat until he feels you gag. "Oh, fuck!"

"Fuck!" You say, tears brimming your eyes, ready to stream your cheeks as you watch the trail of saliva from his tip to your mouth fall.

"You're doing so fucking good." He says as he watches you while guiding you down length, bobbing your head a little rougher and more aggressively this time around. Your saliva is damn near dripping out of your mouth, the entire scene getting sloppier by the minute, but you honestly didn't care. You were so turned on that all you wanted after this was for Jungkook to fuck you crazy hard, until you couldn't take it anymore. You were so fucking attracted to this man. "One more for me, baby." He moans, lowering you down his entire length again, his tip tickling your throat a lot longer than the first time that your tears are actually coming down this time around. You cough when he finally pulls you back, more saliva trailing from the tip to your mouth. "See, so perfect for me. Taking me in so well like your mouth was fucking made for me." He grabs your chin, placing a kiss against your lips before gently pushing you back down onto the bed. "Turn around and get on your knees, sweetheart."

"I want you so bad." You whine, his hand trailing down your back as he positions your ass up and gets your face as close to the mattress as possible.

"Don't you worry, princess. I'll take good care of you." He lines himself up, his dick incredibly wet from you sucking him like your life depended on it. He slides in with ease, the both of you moaning loudly at the feeling - the feeling of warmth, and feeling so fucking full, Jungkook is sure he can feel his tip ready to rearrange your guts in this position. He begins slow, one hand on a hip, while the other is in your hair, making sure your face is deep into the mattress.

"Faster, please!" You plead, Jungkook wasting no time to hammer his cock into your pussy. The sounds are incredibly loud and lewd, and you knew your walls were thin as hell. You were sure your neighbors were definitely having the time of their life listening to you getting destroyed. You cry as he groans, his hands now gripping your hair and tugging you back so that he can slightly see your face with the way he tilts it back.

"Ughhhh, shit babygirl. You feel so good, always so tight for me." He moans as he lets out a couple of breaths from pumping in and out of you so quickly. "Ready for me to make you cry again? That's what you wanted, right?"

"Yes." You say, but he tugs your hair tighter.

"I can't hear you."

"Yeeeees!" You whine. "Yes, fuck, please!"

"Say my name."

"Jungkooook." You moan. "Jungkoook, hmmmmmpfh." Your ass almost feels numb from how hard Jungkook is fucking you right now, but it all leads to the pleasure building up inside of you - pooling right at your core. You were sure you could reach your climax again any moment now, but you were trying your hardest to hold on for as long as you could, enjoying every moment of the pleasure he was bringing you. You didn't want this to be over, even though you could go rounds with him if he wanted to. His hand travels from your hair, down to your neck, gripping just right to choke you and keep your head tilted at an angle. Your yes's are becoming inaudible, moans getting lost in your throat that is feeling constricted from his grip.

"I'm gonna cum, sweetheart. Cum with me." Jungkook says as he thrusts harder, the overwhelming sensation enough to send you into the next dimension. The orgasm ripples through your body, your hand gripping onto his wrist as you tremble and look for support.

"FuckkkkknnnnngJungkook!" You manage to yell. He moans loudly as you feel his cock twitch inside of you, spurts of his cum coating your walls warmly and thickly. He gives you two good slow thrusts before he's slowly pulling out and letting his tip stick the cum back inside of you. "Ahhh, please. Kook." You whimper as you fall onto your bed, tears staining your cheeks once more. He smiles as he picks up his boxers and throws them on, tossing you your panties and his shirt to wear. You slip into them without question, Jungkook coming back onto the bed to lay next to you and caress your body to soothe you.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." You sniff, the aftermath of all the tears you've shed from tonight's fuck session catching up to you.

"Babygirl." He chuckles as he wipes your cheeks and plants a kiss on it. "You need to be careful of what you ask for."

"Shut the hell up and pull up the movie, Jungkook." He laughs, watching you shove your laptop over to him. He pulls up the movie on his Amazon Prime account and snuggles with you under your sheets.

"Sooo, ready for our date?"

"Should I be preparing?" He shrugs.

"Just want you to have a good night with me." His hands are still caressing your sides under his shirt, light kisses being pressed against the nape of your neck. The warmth, and the feeling of his body pressed against yours makes you feel content. Satisfied. Peaceful.

You felt safe. You felt wanted.

youtube

baby we can take it slow, say my name, don't let go, I can hear your body when i pull your hair, what's my name; girl I swear, I can hear your body babe

track ten: body - syd

524 notes · View notes

moonbeamsung · 3 years

Text

You’re Just a Boy in a Blueberry Field

No fruit is sweeter than a summer love.

member: haechan

au: blueberry farmer!haechan x gn!reader

word count: 5.0k

genre: fluff, very light angst

warnings: mentions of food

author’s note: It’s here! I actually wrote most of this last summer, but only recently did I find the time to edit and get it ready to be posted. I added some parts and changed a few things, and now I like it quite a lot, so I hope you do as well! Thank you @astroboy-lele for beta-reading :) As always I would love to hear any feedback on this, and I hope that you enjoy the fic!

taglist: @astroboy-lele @kyuwoyo @rvse-hvvck @nakamotocore @kisshim @leejunini @chicksung @mrkcore @radiorenjun @moon-jun @jisungiest @stayctday @byutafy @jujubean23 @treasurehobi @bluejaem @lyshoonn @vera-liscious @allegxdly @cupfullofjeno @thats-a-jen-no-no @yo-ddream

network tags: @kpopscape @neo-constellations @culture-cafe @dreamlab-nct @k-dinernet

Thank you lovely Ana @rvse-hvvck for this additional header!

Donghyuck knows everything there is to know about those blueberries.

Without even pausing for the briefest of moments to think, to instinctively recall the information instilled in him throughout his childhood spent on the farm, he can answer any question that’s thrown at him. He can point out just the right color of berry to pick so that they’ll be ripe when you eat them later. Likewise, he can also tell you which ones are best to eat now, as you pick them, pretending not to notice when you pop one or two into your mouth and grinning when your eyes light up from the sweetness.

A day comes where he, filled with mischief as usual, places a not-so-ripe blueberry into your hand, and you, being so wrapped up in the peacefulness of the morning that surrounds you, fail to notice its red color and don’t think twice about lifting it to your lips, biting into it with your teeth. When the tart taste meets your tongue, your face contorts into an expression that elicits a raucous fit of laughter from him. You’re the first one in the fields that day. When the sun had risen on the horizon, the fleeting touch of color in the sky that dawn left behind still lingering above, he had been there, sitting on the front porch as always to greet customers.

Donghyuck knows every bug that loves to rest on the branches of the blueberry bushes. After spending so much time next to you as you scan them for the pops of vivid blues and purples that are hidden behind jade green leaves, he begins to learn that you are not fond of any bug, no matter how harmless. It’s cute, he thinks, how you inspect every berry that you drop into your basket, fearing that some small creature is lurking on it. If you do find something, he hears a small noise of both surprise and disgust before you fling the perfectly good berry away from you. It also hurts a little, knowing that it’s one less for you to take home.

When more people arrive at the farm after you, he’s forced to leave your side and get them started on their own search for the delicious fruit that’s nestled among the branches of nearly every bush. And if they ask where the best ones are, he specifically points them in the direction of the fields where you aren’t. It isn’t a lie, really, because they’ve had a good harvest everywhere this year.

...Okay, so maybe it’s a little selfish on his part, but who can blame him for wanting you to have some of the most plentiful bushes all to yourself?

Wednesdays are his favorite because it’s always the least crowded of all the mornings they’re open for business, and he can spend more time following you as you make your way down the rows, admiring the focus on your face and the way that you sometimes pause mid-reach, closing your eyes and standing still as the sun peeks through the clouds and casts its warm glow down onto the farm. A gentle sigh tumbles from your lips, darkened by the violet nectar that remains from the countless blueberries that have crossed their usually pink-tinted threshold. You resume your search after a few seconds, catching his eye and returning a smile he didn’t even know was there.

He makes the berries taste a little sweeter when he’s next to you. The purple juice that stains your fingers is a little darker. The sun feels brighter and warmer than ever, its heat shining down onto your skin.

One particular morning, after you finish picking all the blueberries you can carry, you decide to accompany Donghyuck on the porch, sitting beside each other in matching rocking chairs that first belonged to his great-grandparents, the farm’s founders. The familiar sounds of birds chirping and the low mumbling amongst customers meet your ears. You both gaze fondly at the horizon while immersed in casual chatter, all the while tending to several families as they come and go.

Whenever a car turns off of the two-lane, paved road and onto the noisy gravel path leading into a small grassy area that functions as a parking lot, Donghyuck excuses himself from the lively conversation both of you always find yourselves sharing. He stands, brushing his hands off on his faded denim overalls that are only slightly too large for his frame. His hand lifts up the baseball cap he always wears while the other runs through his hair, and your gaze falls on the back of his neck where it rests in longer strands. You always wonder why he keeps it like that since he complains about how hot it makes him feel. The humid summer air is stifling enough as it is, after all. The thought vanishes only moments after it arrives, though, and he flashes a brilliant grin at you over his shoulder as he descends the wooden stairs leading down to the patio.

Today, a happy looking family gets out of a shiny silver minivan. The mother and father with two kids, a boy and a girl, make their way toward the covered patio and Donghyuck bounds down the steps like always, grabbing 4 stacked pails in his calloused hands. You lean forward a little in the creaky old rocking chair, your weight in your toes, ears just barely picking up his conversation with them. He greets the parents warmly, shaking their hands and then he kneels down to be eye-level with the small children. The little boy seems shy as he clasps his fingers in front of him, thumbs twiddling back and forth, while his sister is clearly the opposite. She skips over to the much taller boy, saying hello.

“Do you two like blueberries?” He asks them, one arm resting on his knee and the other extending a pail out in front of him. The young girl nods enthusiastically before she takes the container from his hand and turns around, passing it to her brother as he nods, making eye contact with Donghyuck for the first time. A small smile grows on his face when he’s met with the wider one of the unfamiliar but still welcoming stranger. His sister speaks up again, “Every Friday we get to help Mom make her famous blueberry pie!”

“Is that right?”

“Yep! In the morning we always go to the supermarket and get fresh blueberries,” she explains. Her mother leans down, softly telling her that this week they’re here to pick blueberries instead, fresh from the farm they were grown on.

“Really? So that means we’re not buying them at the store anymore?”

“Well, honey, today we can pick enough blueberries to last us for a whole month’s worth of blueberry pies.”

“And besides,” Donghyuck starts, still kneeling on the ground next to her, his boot leaving an imprint in the dirt underneath it, “it’ll taste even better since you picked them yourselves, don’t you think?” The boy punctuates his question with a wink.

The young boy steps up for the first time, grin stretching even wider as he finds the courage to happily agree with the wise words. Exclaiming eagerly and in a way that only a child can, he takes his sister by the hand that’s not holding his small bucket before scurrying off, their parents close behind after grabbing pails for each other as well as a third that their daughter had forgotten in the midst of the excitement.

As Donghyuck joins you on the porch once again, you can’t help but smile as you remember how he interacts with each and every customer that passes through the weathered fence surrounding the property. When he talks to kids in particular, his eyes seem to light up, and you see just how much of a kid he still is deep down. His playfulness never fails to make an appearance whenever you spend time with him.

You’re thankful for the moo of a cow in the distance that interrupts his question of why you’re smiling like an idiot and hopefully drowns out the steady sound of your pounding heart.

The next week he tells you that the rest of his family is out of town, and he’s been left with the responsibility of running the farm all on his own. He usually does most of the work himself these days anyway since he’s getting older and more mature, although some of his jokes say otherwise. You miss the way his mom would poke her head out of the upstairs window of the main house, calling out a greeting to you both from across the property, overjoyed at the sight of her son spending time with the particular customer he’s mentioned so many times before. Whether he would share an amusing anecdote of yours with his siblings at the dinner table or point out something that reminded him of you, it was far too easy for her to figure out how he feels about you.

In an effort to spend more time with him, keep him company and just help out in general, you offer to stay at the house with him for a little while. Or at least until his family gets back from their trip, and to your delight, he agrees. You arrive in the late evening, on a day when the fields are closed, just in time to catch the setting sun as it disappears behind the trees and power lines that seem to stretch for miles in the distance. Tugging an overnight bag of belongings with you, you knock twice on the wood of his front door.

It opens swiftly and Donghyuck welcomes you inside, wearing an apron that he must have outgrown 10 years ago, at least. You snicker at the snug choice of attire and he shoves your shoulder, though not with enough force to make you stumble. He whines a little in that saccharine-sweet voice of his that makes your heart clench, but you don’t give in. Not this time.

When the farm is closed for the day, the family has a chance to pick from some of the bushes that are planted in a more secluded area, all to ensure that they also have a big enough supply of the fruit to last them for the season. So Donghyuck had woken up at the crack of dawn, although you aren’t sure why. He had made his way downstairs and out into the dewy air of the morning, gathering just enough blueberries to bake a cobbler that night when you came over, since he’d learned it was your favorite treat after hours of conversation about anything and everything. The recipe comes straight from his great-grandfather, he informs you, and it’s written on a yellowing piece of paper in handwriting that you couldn’t read even if you tried. He, however, can somehow decode the seemingly nonsensical swirls and lines on the page. You suppose it’s part of the magic of the family recipe that gets passed down with it.

Donning an apron yourself, you join him at the sink as you begin washing the berries, gently grabbing a handful at a time as you let the tap water clean them. When you both reach into the large container at the same time, your hands brush and you almost scoff at the swell of your heart that you feel inside your chest.

As you’re working together to make the batter that you will soon pour into his mother’s finest glass baking pan, Donghyuck briskly swipes his fingertip on the side of the bowl where the mixer had splattered the combined ingredients, extending it in your direction. You raise an eyebrow at the boy and said fingertip before turning your head away.

“If you really think that I would lick that off your finger, then you’re terribly mistaken.”

Coyly, the mischief-maker in question retorts back as you glance at his impishly delighted expression. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you state rather firmly, but matching the mirth in his eyes with a glimmer of amusement in your own. “I’ll settle for the spatula, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” Donghyuck rolls his eyes, your answer completely expected. At least he tried.

You won’t deny that you enjoy sampling a bit of the batter of a dessert as much as anyone. But not that much.

Left with no choice, he takes himself up on his own offer and sticks his finger into his mouth with an audible ‘pop,’ exaggerating the action just to get a rise out of you, feeling the upward curl of his lips when you react ever so slightly with a silent chuckle.

You’re adding the last bit of flour to the mixture when you accidentally get some of the powdery substance on your hand in the process. Turning the automatic mixer off, you momentarily forget about your stained skin and you make the mistake of wiping your face with the back of your wrist, smearing the white stuff on your cheek. Donghyuck notices, of course, and an innocent attempt to help clean up the mess only ends with the two of you blushing like crazy.

“Let me help you,” he speaks up.

“Don’t be ridiculous, the pan’s not that heavy, and even if it was, I’m strong enough anyway—”

You’re about to pick up the glassware but his sudden strides over to you from across the large kitchen cause everything you were saying, doing, and thinking to come to a complete stop. You’ve never really had a problem with personal space before, but right now he’s leaning down and his face is so close that you’re afraid to even breathe for fear that the action might just throw you off balance and towards him. For fear that you might not push his chest away with your hands if that happens.

He’s bending his knees to match your eye level and his hand lifts from its place at his side, hovering in midair not far from where the flour still lingers on your skin. His eyes had been so focused on the stain but the shrinking proximity between you and him pulls his gaze from your cheek to your eyes, blown wide and confused because you still have no idea that there’s something on your face.

The undoubtedly palpable tension in the room almost reaches down his throat and pulls the words from his vocal chords in an effort to dispel the heavy air circulating around the both of you.

“There’s… uh… you have flour…”

Donghyuck still hasn’t broken the less than comfortable eye contact, but he’s unable to look away for reasons unknown to him. After an agonizing amount of seconds your brain switches on again, albeit slowly, and you’re able to properly process the position you’re currently in. Your own hand starts to lift and though the movement is slight, it’s enough to draw his eyes down to it and he finds the strength to complete his goal at last.

His thumb swipes across your cheek and without even thinking he pops it into his mouth once again, forgetting about the unpleasant taste of flour. The way that the boy’s face scrunches up when the bitter powder meets his tongue doesn’t eliminate the awkwardness completely, but it’s a start. You hastily make an effort to avert your gaze as you frantically wonder if he caught your face that’s surely as warm as a blazing fireplace, all because he did the unthinkable with that stupid finger of his.

You won’t let yourself dwell on how his hand is just the right size to cradle the side of your head, or how much nicer his lips look up close, or how they must taste like the blueberries that he snuck into his mouth as you made the cobbler, or how you wished he had used his lips on your cheek instead of his thumb.

How you wish he had closed the almost nonexistent distance between your flushed faces.

These thoughts do nothing to ease the steadily growing heat that’s currently taking over your skin. Your eyes land on the glass pan and you take the opportunity to grab it, acting as a sort of distraction for your mind and also as something to snap you both out of your embarrassed hazes.

You get the finished dessert into the oven with no trouble after that, and now you have a little over half an hour of time to kill before it’s ready, so Donghyuck leads you into the nicely furnished family room and plops down onto the plush couch. When you don’t immediately follow he glances up at you, sensing that you’re still hesitant after the awkward moment. He smiles softly and almost apologetically, as if he’s sending a silent signal that you’ll both move past it soon enough, an invitation to put the incident behind the two of you. And you accept it.

You take a deep breath before you sit down next to him, sinking into the cushions underneath and behind you. The material dips slightly under the weight of both your bodies and gravity itself seems to be in control as it pushes you together, shoulders bumping and the sides of your legs being pressed up against each other. Thankfully, the television roars to life with the laughter of a live audience on one of your favorite shows, and you exhale a puff of air you didn’t even know you were holding in. With every scene that lights up the large display, you curl up further and further into his side, his arm migrating across the back of the sofa and winding around your shoulder only a few centimeters at a time.

This feels like home. Donghyuck feels like home.

The buzzer of the oven interrupts when you’re halfway through another episode, prompting you to jump to your feet just as abruptly as the alarm-like noise had started blaring. Consequently his arm flops down by his side as he mentally curses the loud intrusion into what had become a comfortable atmosphere, an atmosphere that was finally surrounding you again after what felt like an eternity but had really only been an hour.

In no time, you’re returning from the kitchen, the warm blueberry contents of the cobbler oozing out onto the flowery pair of plates you had grabbed from the cupboard. Handing one to him and setting the other aside for yourself, you quickly go back around the corner to grab two tall cups of cold milk. Your second time joining him on the couch comes more easily, almost all of the earlier tension having dispersed into the room, wafting out the windows along with the delicious scent of the fruit baked into the sweet, flaky crust. In fact, you’re fairly sure that it’s strong enough for even his neighbors down the road to smell. Which reminds you: you need to package some up to deliver to them tomorrow, per Donghyuck’s suggestion.

You’re most definitely sure that he smells the aroma, of course, because it’s hard to ignore the eagerness with which he takes a large bite of the dessert. “We make better bakers that I thought we would,” the boy comments, taking a sip of milk. The white mustache that it creates above his top lip when he lifts the glass to his mouth is enough to make you giggle, and you’re unaware that this predictable reaction was his objective all along. He grins, rather satisfied.

With your stomach now full, a head-plaguing drowsiness begins to set in. It slowly fills your senses enough for you to drift off, fork nearly falling out of your hand and onto the floor before he catches it, along with your weight when you slump down against his shoulder. Donghyuck is barely able to reach one of the end tables, and he sets the dishes and silverware down next to the now empty cups. Your body unconsciously clings to his like a koala to a branch, with both hands clutching one of his arms and a leg hooked over his thighs.

He takes one look at you and wishes he could pause time, to stay here forever. It’s not every day that he meets someone who can easily match the amount of snark he possesses. Simultaneously, you also balance out the friendship you share with your compassion and sense of wonder about the world, always evident in your morning routine when you come to the fields. Donghyuck has noticed that you bring out those same qualities in him, perhaps more than anyone else ever has. And just like you’re holding him right now, he vows to hold on to you.

As much as he doesn’t want to get up and for the evening to progress, he knows he should, that it has to. So he manages to detach from the hold of your limbs, gently pushing himself up and off of the couch so he doesn’t disturb you.

Glancing at the large antique clock above the doorway that leads out into the hall, Donghyuck realizes it’s much later than he thought. He decides to turn in for the night, but on a regular day he usually finds himself still awake well past midnight, despite the need to wake up early the next morning and run the farm from the crack of dawn.

Since you’re tired and he doesn’t want to risk you waking up alone in an unfamiliar bed and place, he comes to the conclusion that he’ll join you. Only leaving your side for a moment, he puts the cobbler into the refrigerator and turns off the kitchen lights behind him as he goes. Softly padding halfway up the stairwell, Donghyuck makes sure there’s enough light for him to see where he’s going before making his way back into the living room one last time. He tucks one arm underneath both of your bent knees as tenderly as he can, and places the other behind the middle of your back, hand gently curling against your waist. He carries you with probably the most delicacy he’s shown in his entire life.

Going upstairs is generally an easy task, but doing so while carrying another person is a different story. He would never forgive himself if he were to hurt you in any way. If even your foot happened to bump the wall next to you, a burst of frustration at himself and his own carelessness would surface regardless of the impact’s intensity

Your position in his arms gives him yet another opportunity to gaze upon your peaceful expression, and he begins to think more deeply about what you are to him. Looking forward to your visits makes his work so much more enjoyable and worth it. You’re someone who truly appreciates what he and his family do for a living and you faithfully support them with your business as a customer whenever you can, which is a rare thing to find in most people that come. Most are just bored and in need of something to occupy themselves or their kids. Sometimes they don’t even pick that many berries. But you always make sure to bring your own basket, which holds just as many as if not more than the ones the farm provides, and fill it to the brim. In his eyes, you’re special.

Amidst the mostly-asleep state that you’re in, your eyes just barely open far enough to see a blurry picture of Donghyuck’s face as he carries you through the house and up into the bedroom he had suggested you share. He sets you down onto the soft mattress before pulling the covers up to your stomach, retreating into the attached bathroom to quickly change into a thin t-shirt and his favorite pair of plaid pajama pants.

The memory of that conversation floods back to you. Initially, you refused the offer, saying that he would rest better if he had more space to move around. But being the clingy person he is, he had pouted desperately as you struggled to stand your ground in the discussion. “Fine,” you had huffed, only half-frustrated with those doe eyes he always uses to get his way, and your lips had great difficulty holding back a smile.

The hum of electricity that can be heard emanating from the next room snaps you out of these thoughts, and is enough to wake you up a bit more. Your gaze scans the surroundings for a minute or two before he opens the door again, his eyes now looking as heavy as your own.

Donghyuck joins you under the blanket and shifts to lay on his side, facing you. It’s funny that you’re both able to adjust to a situation so intimate and new almost instantly. Still on your back, your head turns and you’re conscious enough to raise an eyebrow at the boy. There’s that pout again.

“Please?” He mumbles, his bottom lip jutting out in an action he’s perfected. You know exactly what he’s after: cuddles.

You don’t even try to hide the playful roll of your eyes as you scoot a little closer, but it’s not close enough for him. He gets impatient, meeting you halfway, and this time it’s him that flings a leg over yours. An endearing, small noise of contentment from him fills your ears as you take notice of his arms, now interlocked behind your neck and around your shoulders. You melt into the snug position, a hand landing on his forearm that’s laying across your chest. Turning ever so slightly to the side, your other hand winds around his middle and eventually rests just above his hip, pulling him into you even more. Donghyuck nuzzles his face into the side of your neck, a few strands of your hair tickling his skin as he sighs in complete and utter bliss.

Determined to savor the moment until the irresistible inevitability of slumber starts to overtake you once more, you fight to stay awake with all of your might. But in what you thought was only the blink of an eye, the glittering stars visible through the bay window’s sheer drapes morph into the pale golden rays of first light. There’s a soft murmur of your name along with an unintentional, almost imperceptible peck to the place where his lips meet your skin, and you’re wide awake. Not to mention a little shocked.

He’s utterly unfazed, though, slowly waking up now that the sun has gotten brighter, its beams filtering into the room and hitting his already glowing face that becomes a gorgeous honey-colored hue.

Donghyuck reluctantly withdraws his arms from your form after one last embrace, effortlessly rising from the wrinkled bed sheets and offering his hand to you when you start to do the same. A sleepy smile makes a home on his features and he reminds you of your task to deliver a portion of the dessert you made to his next-door neighbors.

That’s exactly what you do, first making yourselves presentable in the bathroom by smoothing down wild bed hair and freshening up your faces with cool water. Being around to see each other’s natural morning states is a major act of trust, and he doesn’t miss an opportunity to poke fun at you for it.

“How long does it normally take for you to do your hair every day before you come here?” His tone is dripping with feigned innocence, but the sly grin on his lips says otherwise.

“Shut up, Hyuck.”

Tupperware container in hand, your shoes step in rhythm with his as you amble along the grassy shoulder of the street together. Somehow you end up hand-in-hand by the time you reach his neighbors’ front patio.

“Donghyuck!” The elderly woman at the door greets him with a twinkling voice, her husband coming into view soon after. “Look who it is, honey,” she motions fondly to the boy who they both once knew to be much shorter and younger, but now is all grown up before their eyes. “You’re getting so tall. It seems like only yesterday you were scurrying through the blueberry fields and waving to us through the gaps in the fence.”

“Yes ma’am, it does,” he responds politely. The couple has been living there for as far back as he can remember, and quite honestly they feel as if they’ve become part of his family, too.

Her warm brown eyes light up. “Is this the customer your mother was telling me about last week? She mentioned how close you’ve become, and now I’m finally seeing it for myself. You make a lovely pair.”

“Oh—” Donghyuck startles. Not much can get him flustered, but he hadn’t exactly been anticipating for his mom to recount all the things he’s said about you to the sweetest and most innocent of elderly couples. Of course they would assume that there’s something going on.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that, with you. He wouldn’t mind at all, really. He’ll just need to have a word about a little thing called privacy with his mother later.

You see the glint of panic in his eyes and speak up. It’s not often he makes such an easy target for teasing. “Thank you,” you state graciously, the smugness in the statement only noticeable to him. “We’re very happy together.” He feels you lean into him, fingers unwrapping from his and gripping the other side of his waist. You know exactly what you’re doing, and so does he.

Almost forgetting to hand over the slices of cobbler you’d cut earlier, Donghyuck nudges you to do so, and the four of you exchange thanks and farewells before you’re on your way back to the farm.

“Happy together, huh?”

“Shut up, Hyuck.” You mumble something else afterwards that he doesn’t quite catch.

“What’s that? Didn’t hear you,” he sings, stopping in his tracks. You do the same. “Shut up and what?”

“...And kiss me.”

After many days and many nights spent wondering, you can confirm that his lips do, indeed, taste as sweet as the blueberries in those fields.

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