#please you talented gif makers

[d4rkpluto]

ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ ʀᴜʟᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇꜱ

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and i wanted to be kind and leave three mores spot for someone for a chart reading, £30 for any type of chart reading.

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♇ what is a ruler in astrology?

♇ a ruler in astrology is a planetary ruler, a planet that rules over the sign that takes over a house, for example, someone with capricorn in their second house, will have saturn as their second house ruler.

♇ my second house is ruled by saturn, and saturn is placed in my seventh house in astrology.

♇ 2H RULER IN THE 1H ⟶ self value means a lot to them. distinct/nice voice can become famous for that. family-oriented or known as the most selfish family member. beauty and money oriented. very stubborn but beautiful, can imply that romance and communication is important to native.

♇ 2H RULER IN THE 2H ⟶ can be self-centred, being someone who is vocal. can be someone who is frugal as well. might like to sing, cook and create are. stubborn. could be obsessed with future spouse and can be someone who likes to many money. can be very sensual/sexual.

♇ 2H RULER IN THE 3H ⟶ very communicative. slow speakers or likes to take time to make their point. can be someone who likes to make quick money. pretty hands and hand writing. can be manipulative. values intelligent and siblings and cousins. spends money on food and travelling. beautiful relatives and pretty/loud neighbourhood.

♇ 2H RULER IN THE 4H ⟶ values family and order. very emotionally distant and private. very secretive and easily hurt. can be someone who is protective, and might become the money-maker of the family. being someone who has a nice aesthetic, and might sound like your mother, or a prominent female figure in the family.

♇ 2H RULER IN THE 5H ⟶ very creative people. superstars and values talent. could value children and be very protective over them. or could value healing the inner child. very intelligent and educated. very sexual and can value romance and sex. could moan loud during sex or could like listening to hot audios.

♇ 2H RULER IN THE 6H ⟶ troubles with eating. gym/health freak. can value order and good health. might like to speak on the phone a lot and can be someone who could love pets or animals in general. being someone who likes to win as well, very competitive souls. but can be critical or someone who fishes for compliments to other people.

♱ 2H RULER IN THE 7H ⟶ money from partners or business partnerships. can value connections with friends, family and people in general. can have a nice/airy voice, family relationship might've impacted how you behave in relationships. might love to buy aesthetically pleasing stuff and can be known to be pretty.

♱ 2H RULER IN THE 8H ⟶ very private and guarded people. family secrets can change them. gaining finances through spouse or a will. can be be intimate and values intimacy. secret siblings/family members. sensual voices, known for voice acting or even singing. could also be mean if they wanted to.

♱ 2H RULER IN THE 9H ⟶ values intelligence and travelling. could like to be flattered. being someone who could like to trade with other people. can be someone who values philosophy or having faith in something. people believing in them helps them become more confident, another placement where someone fishes for compliments all the time. can gain money through creative writing or directing. can have a big ego as well.

♱ 2H RULER IN THE 10H ⟶ popular business moguls. can be a famous vocal actress or actor. up-front person. nice deep/commanding voice. authoritative person, someone who values career, discipline and reputation. can be very self-involved and controlling. prominent financial life. coming from a respectable or known family.

♱ 2H RULER IN THE 11H ⟶ popular friends, values friendship and being independent. gaining money from the internet or through networking. distinct voices might sound animated. can be a humanitarian. weird food taste, found family core. being someone who loves privacy and charity. people are curious about your family, how you earn money. could have a wealthy future, or wealthy friends.

♱ 2H RULER IN THE 12H ⟶ drains through money. retail therapy. struggles with food. might be paranoid. light voices but shady people. unexpected talent, people are surprised whenever they're good at something. a family member might've gone to prison/been behind bars. manifestors. could be interested in the fae, could have dreamy beauty. might disappear a lot, and can be delusional.

masterlist

and i wanted to be kind and leave three mores spot for someone for a chart reading, £30 for any type of chart reading.

[itsjusthockey]

Boo - Jack Hughes

I had no idea where this was going but it worked

Enjoy

Please request bitches, I need inspiration

wc:1.088 (credit to gif maker)

To Jack, there is nothing more sexy than a beautiful woman lying in his bed, completely ignoring him. Or maybe it was just you. To be fair, he can’t help it; Jack finds everything about you quite sexy, even when you haven’t paid a single ounce of attention to him in the past fifteen minutes, no matter what he’s done.

He tries everything. First, he calls your name, which you ignore. Then he starts making noises that you hate, which you ignore, and then he starts to remove his clothes, which causes you to flash him a quick glance, roll your eyes, and return to your computer.

He is about to give up when he decides he has one final trick up his sleeve. Removing himself from the chair, Jack puts himself face down on the floor, letting out a huge sigh.

Still nothing. So he goes again.

Three sighs later, you huff indignantly, shutting your computer.

“Whatever could you possibly be sighing about, Jack?”

Bingo. He turns to look at you, throwing you a sheepish smile.

“I’ve got a lot on my shoulders, babe.” Jack takes another deep breath and sighs dramatically. “Being rich, talented, and handsome is incredibly tiring work.” 

You snort. “I bet, baby, it’s so hard being you.”

You give him a fake pout before moving to get off the bed, stepping over him on the way to the bathroom. He watches like a hawk as you grab a few things, pee, and walk back, stepping over him again.

“What do I have to do to get some attention around here?” He finally asks, throwing you a pointed glance as you ponder his question.

“J, I’m sorry, but you know I have to do this. I can give you all the attention in the world once I finish this discussion. Okay?”

He raises his eyebrow. “Promise?”

You nod, and he places his head back down when an idea pops in his head.

“(Y/N)?”

“Yes?”

“Ballpark, how long until you're done?”

He hears you sigh, and a part of him feels terrible, but he knows it’s worth it.

“Probably 45 minutes to an hour.”

He lets out an okay and gets up, gently pressing a kiss to your cheek, which you barely register him. He makes his way to the bathroom and hops in for a quick shower, using the new fall-scented soap that you got him that both love.

Minutes later, he takes a quick glance at you as he throws on some gray sweats, and he smirks, knowing he still has time. You’re beyond focused with your headphones on, and Jack genuinely believes he could drop dead, and you wouldn’t know.

He makes his way outside into the living space, seeing Luke sprawled across the couch, watching an Avengers movie on the TV.

“What’s up?” Luke questions, watching as he heads to the closet that holds their hockey gear.

“I got some stuff yesterday for a thing I saw on TikTok, and (Y/N) needs a fun night.”

Jack pulls out the various fall items that he won’t lie; he enjoyed picking out. There are snacks, little games, candles, a stuffed pumpkin, and anything else he thought you would like.

He moves into action, putting together the basket and calling for an Uber Eats order. Luke, realizing what is going on, begins to laugh.

“You got her a boo-basket?”

“Shhhh, she’s right In there.” Jack jerks his head toward his bedroom.

Luke throws up his hand in surrender. “Sorry, I just didn’t think this was your thing. You’re not great at the whole romance thing all the time.”

Jack throws him a stern look and gives the pumping a gentle squeeze. “You tell anyone, I’ll kill you.”

Jack finishes putting the basket together and places it on the center island. He then moves to dim the lights and light a candle, nodding at his good work.

“Alright, almost perfect.” He says, eyes landing on Luke. “Just one more thing.”

Luke shoots him a curious look. “What's that?”

“You’re here.” Jack points his finger toward the door. “Out.”

Luke rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue, heading toward the door. He doesn’t get far before stealing a couple of Halloween Oreos and throwing Jack a wink on the way out.

As the door slams shut behind Luke, Jack waits for what feels like an eternity for you to exit the bedroom.

He can hardly contain his excitement and nerves as he watches you walk in confused, taking in the cozy setup. You pause, and he smiles, but that’s wiped away when he sees tears welling up in your eyes.

He’s a second away from panicking when you walk over to him, throwing your arms around him in a bone-crushing hug.

“You did this for me?”

You pull back from him, and he gently pulls your chin up so your lips meet his.

“Actually, for Nico, but he’s running late, so I’ll guess you’ll work.”

You roll your eyes at him again, pulling him in for another sweet kiss.

“This is so sweet, J.”

Jack watches as you look through all the goodies, getting more excited with each item. When you get to the pumpkin plush, you wheeze it so hard to your chest, and he practically melts.

“I love it, Jack, seriously.”

He pulls you back into his arms, relieved that his surprise has had the desired effect.

“Good, you deserve it," he whispers, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

The evening continues as you both enjoy your favorite food that's just arrived. You cozy up on the couch, surrounded by the fall-themed goodies and the warm, dimly lit room. The candles flicker, casting a soft, inviting glow, and the two of you dive into the snacks and games Jack picked out, sharing laughter and watching your favorite Halloween shows.

It’s picture-perfect as the first movie starts to come to a close, and Jack can feel you staring at him.

“You know, you’re the most annoying boyfriend ever, but sometimes.” You pause, popping an Oreo in your mouth. “You do have your moments.”

Jack attacks you for your comment, flipping you both over and ticking your sides. You play fight for a minute before he stops, staring deep into your eyes as you smile.

“So, are you ready to fulfill your promise?” He raises his eyebrow, moving his head down to capture your lips.

You roll your eyes, grabbing his head and pulling him down.

“I’m all yours.”

[mayhemories]

Hi could you possibly write Neteyam x reader?

- Reader is best friends with Kiri and has feelings for Neteyam

- Reader sees herself as ugly, undesirable and believes Neteyam sees her as a little sister

- Yet Neteyam loves her and respects her

- Sexual tension between Neteyam and reader. linger hands and sneaking glances

- Kiri notices and secretly sets them up one night

Best Friend's Brother

Oh Jesus Christ I loved writing every moment of this, but I kinda strayed away from your last point in the request, I'm sorry! I still hope it satisfies <3

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x Reader (James Cameron’s Avatar) 

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: Just fluff, some lowkey spice. No minors, get outta here! Reader is insecure and self-conscious, Neteyam puts a stop to that rather quickly. 

Words: 3.7k

Author’s Notes: 

Neteyam is 19, reader is 18 but only a few months older than Kiri. Lo’ak and Kiri are roughly 17, moving on to 18. Lil Tuk girl queen is the same age as the movie because I will protect her childhood. How old even is she? 8? Maybe im a fake fan. 

Please note that the reader utilises she/her pronouns. If you’d prefer male or gender-neutral pronouns in fic I’m more than happy to repost a male or gn version of the story, otherwise include any pronoun preferences in the request box!

Read below the cut:

High Camp provided so much warmth, love and safety for its people. You were not old enough to remember Hometree or the destruction of it. But you could not imagine living anywhere else but in the densely protected cave systems of the Hallelujah Mountains. 

Everyone knows everyone, all the kids play together, live together, laugh together. The community that Olo'eyktan Jake Sully, and his mate, Neytiri had fostered here was against all odds. 

Your mother was one of the most talented hunters in the clan, this love of hunting easily transferred to warmongering, alongside the leadership (or maybe the leashing of your mother’s bloodlust) from Neytiri and Toruk Macto. Neytiri and your mother grew up together, so closely. Neytiri never forgets her friends and knows every name and face of the clan. You couldn’t help but admire her for this. Your father, on the other hand, was an irreplaceable healer and herbalist. He worked alongside T’sahik Mo’at, training younger Na’vi who showed promise in interpreting the ways of Eywa’s medicinal signs. With your family’s connection to the Sully’s, it was impossible to avoid them, even if you wanted to. 

You grew up with the Sully kids, being a year younger than Neteyam, their eldest, and only a few months older than Kiri and Lo’ak, the four of you would always be playing. Running through the majestic forests of Pandora, swimming through creeks, lakes and rivers, kissing the dirt as you rolled down hills into meadows of wildflowers. The older you got the closer you got to Kiri. The sister you’ll never have. 

You loved your parents, you did, but they made it clear that one child was enough for them. Your father loved the Sully’s as you did, he thought with his entire heart that Jake was the best for the clan. He was Toruk Macto, after all. Your mother, however, made things harder. She loved Neytiri like a sister, and always wished for her happiness. 

“I remember when Jake was like a baby, you know.” She would say at mealtimes, your father would have a small smile. You could do nothing but roll her eyes. “He was trouble maker, still is.” She was grumpy. You knew that she trusted Jake and saw him as a good Olo’eyktan, but the disdain grew from your friendship with his kids. 

“His boys are the same, no different.” She would always say the same thing, with the same pointed look. 

You and Kiri had just finished your rituals of womanhood the week prior. For the both of you finding a mate was expected. For Kiri, nothing was ever expected in terms of mateship. In fact it was almost the opposite.

“You never have to do something you don’t wanna do, Babygirl” Jake said, smoothing down Kiri’s wild hair. The two of you sat in the middle of the floor in the Sully’s tented home. Braiding beads into your songchords to commemorate the recent transition from child to adult. 

“What about you, (y/n)?” Neytiri asked, watching the two young girls weave their cords, reminiscing on her own bead.  

You sighed, knowing your parents had been pushing the topic for a while:

“What about Tsu-wey? Or, Marek or Teyk’ah?” Your mother said, rattling off the names of warrior boys, flinging her arms around, exasperated. You shook your head, you weren’t really interested in anyone. 

Your father, always taking the approachable, personal angle, sat next to you, tucking your shoulders under his arm. 

“What about Aäna? She’s a lovely girl-” 

“Dad!” You shot up, crossing your arms over your chest, the blood rushing to your cheeks. “It’s not that Dad, I just don’t like anyone like that yet really.” 

“You’ve got to work it out, (y/n),” Your mother said harshly, “Soon.” 

“Uh no, no I haven’t really got anyone in mind.” You replied quietly. 

“Ugh come on, lets scram.” Kiri said grabbing your wrist and practically marching you out of her family home. 

“Ughh Kiri, I only just finished my chord-oof” Your complaints were quickly cut off as Kiri stobbed abruptly, your whole body coming in contact with her back. “You skxwang! What are you doing-” 

“Brother.” Kiri chirps, cutting you off. Neteyam stood in the doorway, leaning against the timber frame, smirking. His braids fell around his face, his high cheekbones and delicate features seemed to play with the soft golden lighting of High Camp, his tail flicked subtly from side to side, amused. 

“Sister, (y/n),” Neteyam replied, sounding almost bored. “Where are you two running off to?” his fingers fiddled with his waistband, running down to his songchord. You knew you were staring, tracking the motion of his large hands, rubbing each bead, shell, and stone in between his thumb and pointer finger. It was embarrassing, you couldn’t look away, and why should you? There was nothing inappropriate about the action. Just his large, capable hands and skilled fingers…

Oh Eywa, that is enough. 

“None of your business, big brother,” Kiri said, teasing as she often did. You swore she only knew how to convey her thoughts through sarcasm and hints. 

Neteyam chuckled, his fingers resting on his crossed arms once, more. Your plain eyes found his warm, deep ones, as he said:

“I think it’s my business where my girls run off to, no?” You knew he did not mean it the way your stupid little brain heard it, you know he meant it as a brother. Nothing more, nothing less. But god, you wished you were his girl. You always had, since you were twelve. All of a sudden, you woke up one day and Neteyam was cute. Cute turned into cool, cool gave way into hot, and hot turned into so incredibly sexy as you got older. And you stayed, well awkward and plain and not much to behold. 

But, you could pretend, that was something you were good at. Rolling your eyes, you broke the contact with Neteyam, shoving Kiri with your shoulder and righting the way of the world, again. 

“The meadow.” You said flatly. 

Kiri wasn’t as much of an airhead as you seemed to think she was. She knew her best friend, and she knew her big brother. Neteyam was a loser, a goody-goody with a desperate need to be the perfect son, the perfect soldier. Around you, he became this swaggering popular guy that Kiri knew him not to be, really. Maybe around his stupid Ikran Rider friends. But never around Kiri, or Lo’ak or Tuk. He never bought that facade into their home, save for when you were in it. 

You, on the other hand, Kiri knew you like the back of her hand. You were shy, sweet and just so obviously and painfully in love with Neteyam. She watched you watch him, and him in turn trying to memorise every freckle, scar and nick on your body. 

Neteyam cleared his throat, embarrassed that Kiri had caught him, once again, stealing glances at her best friend. 

“Just be home for dinner, before eclipse, yeah?” He questioned, the muscle upon his brow bone tilting slightly upward. 

“Of course!” Kiri yelled out as the two of you ran off, hand-in-hand, giggling as you did so. Neteyam watched your retreating figures flee High Camp. Pulling his attention towards his own songchord, his most recent bead was longer than the others, a hollowed-out green gemstone, mottled with white and silver patterning. The one he chose for himself the year prior at his own ceremony, welcoming him into manhood. Neteyam smiled to himself, remembering the bead you had obviously chosen for your own ceremony, made from the same little green stone. 

Neteyam didn’t know how much longer he could go on going like this. He felt like he was walking in circles, orbiting you, waiting for his gamut to eventually crash him into you. Sighing he opened the flap to his tented family home. Maybe it was time to ask Toruk Macto for advice. 

The long grass of the meadow was a deep shade of green, almost the colour of seagrass. Its long strands waved in the breeze, tickling your face as you lay on your back, watching the clouds, birds and everything that called the clearing it’s home. You felt connected to the place, like you were in the lungs of the world, simply floating in the breath of Eywa. 

Kiri sat at your feet in the long grass, facing you, but with her knees drawn close to her chest, playing with the end of her face-framing braids. She was thinking hard, hyperfocused on a thought that was so deep-rooted it took you multiple attempts to get her attention. 

“What’s wrong my Kiri?” You asked, finally catching her eye-line, sitting up to mirror her position. 

“Nothing is wrong, why would anything be wrong?” Kiri responded, trying to act nonchalant. 

“Do not bullshit me, you penis face.” You say, pulling a smile out of her distracted figure while nudging her leg with your foot. 

“You would be my sister if you mated Neteyam, you know that right?” She asked, like she didn’t say the craziest fucking sentence you’ve ever heard in the world. 

All the air left your lungs at once, she may as well have punched you in the stomach. You were going to retch. 

“What are you talking about!” You felt the blood rush to your face, fanning itself over your nose, cheeks, ears and shoulders. Your whole chest felt like Kiri had taken a flare to it. You couldn’t bear it, you felt hot all over. You covered your face with your shaking hands. 

Oh, mother Eywa I will die here, I will die here of embarrassment and pass through to you.

“Don’t be stupid, I know you loooooove him,” She said stretching out her o’s as she so often did when teasing, she poked you a few times too, for good measure. “He obviously is pining for you too, you skxwang.” 

Kiri was a tease, she was sarcastic and blunt and hilarious. But she was not mean. Which, is why you couldn’t work out why she was being mean to you now. About something so personal, too. You felt the hot tears start to form. 

“Why are you being mean?” You asked softly, pulling your hands away from your eyes, to try and read her face. 

Kiri was taken aback by how upset you were. She did not mean it to be mean, she was serious. She quickly took you in her arms, all jokes aside. 

“Ma (y/n) why are you crying?” Kiri asked softly. You sniffled, letting the tears fall freely now. 

“You know I love Neteyam, why would you tease me like that knowing it is like stones in my heart.” You began to ramble, as you so often did when you were emotional. “Neteyam sees me as his little sister, nothing more, nothing less.” You said seriously, vehemently. Lip quivering, you felt stupid and pathetic crying about it. But now that ball of thoughts had started to be unwound in your mind you could not stop, all the words you could not say since you were twelve just fell out of your little mouth. “And besides, if Neteyam didn’t see me as just a little annoying sister, I am ugly Kiri.” Kiri started to shush you, but you did not listen.

 “I am not unique in features like you, I am not as elegant as your mother, I’m not as alluring as Aäna, or as talented as Lor’ät. I’m so fucking boring.” Your tears fell so freely down your face and neck, you felt them fall behind the straps of your breast cover. You hated it. You hated everything about you and you would never be enough for Neteyam. 

You would never be enough for anyone, really. When you thought critically about it. 

Kiri held you close as you sobbed like her mother would, smoothing down your hair like her father would. She was beyond confused about how you could ever think this about yourself. Knowing fair well what a lot of the hunter boys Lo’ak was friends with say about you, what Neteyam’s Riders say in confidence, what the healer girls under Mo’at whisper about during Kiri’s training. Usually it makes her want to gag. But in this moment she wished she told you earlier. Maybe it would’ve given you more self-confidence in a perverse roundabout way. You were so wanted. If it wasn’t for Neteyam’s possessive nature of you, you could have anyone you wanted. Kiri reasoned, that if Neteyam wasn’t going to let anyone else have you, but not move on you himself, Kiri would have to set it up.

You and Kiri came back to High Camp, just before dinner and just after you finally stopped crying. You asked Kiri to never talk about the whole thing, preferring to just shove the whole thing into a little lockbox, throwing it away into the undercurrent of your consciousness. 

You stopped dead in your tracks infront of Kiri’s home, hearing Jake’s laugh and Tuk’s squeals. Neteyam was in there. No, you couldnt it was way to fresh. To have dinner with them would be the last petal in your funerary basket. 

“Come, lets eat.” Kiri whined, pulling on your arm. You stood firm like an island of stone against the tide. 

“I think I will eat with my parents tonight, I’m sorry.” You said in a low voice. “I’ll be back to normal tomorrow I promise.” You quickly added, to appease your headstrong sister. 

“Okay.” Kiri said softly, taking both of your hands into her five-fingered ones. “It’s all going to sort itself out, (y/n). I promise.” 

The usually short walk across High Camp to your family home felt unusually long, cold and dark.

Kiri flopped down on the woven mats around the firepit with a huff. Next to Jake and Neteyam, Kiri was hungry and angry and sad for her friend. 

“Hey , Babygirl.” Jake said, kissing Kiri on her forehead. Jake looked toward the door, confused. “Where’s my other beautiful girl?” Jake asked, confused. (y/n) always joined them for dinner, he couldn’t remember a night her presence had been missed since she was born. 

Kiri sighed, big and deep. “She’s having dinner with her parents.” 

“What has happened?” Neytiri asked, serving dinner on a leaf for little Tuk. 

Kiri felt internally conflicted. It was not her business to share, not her secrets to lay bare. But her best friend was hurting, and the skxwang next to her was the only one who could fix it. But (y/n) never begs for anything, and she begged Kiri the whole walk home to say nothing. 

She could not say nothing, but she did not have to say anything, either. 

“(y/n) was sad, about finding a mate. Her parents are really hard on her about it.” Kiri was not one to lie, and this was not a lie she convinced herself. But not the whole truth either. 

“Bro, that’s so stupid. Literally everyone is asking her mom for courting meetings.” Lo’ak piped up. His sentence muffled due to his full fucking face of food. Kiri screwed her face up.

“Courting meetings? What do you mean?” Neteyam looked panicked. The face he usually reserved for Lo’ak’s antics on the field. 

“I don’t know man, some of the guys were talking about it today during lessons. But her Dad keeps turning them away for now.” Lo’ak answered, shrugging nonchalantly, stuffing his face still, despite the family’s disgust. 

Kiri stared at Neteyam, reading every inch of his face as he calmed down. He was running out of time, she knew it. But, Neteyam looked at Jake. Jake raised his eyebrows at his eldest son, turning his head slightly and shrugging. It was a shared look, Neteyam knew exactly what Jake meant, though Kiri felt left in the lurch. 

The Sully’s did not talk about it for the rest of dinner, thankfully. 

Neytiri was putting Tuk to bed. Jake, in a rare moment was teaching Lo’ak how to properly clean a gun. Kiri sat, next to Neteyam, running her hands up and down her own songchord, anxiously. Neteyam was evidently anxious too, his legs pulled up close to his chest, he stared at the fire pit as if the answers were going to lash out and brand him. 

“She is in love with you, Neteyam.” Kiri said softly. Neteyam felt like he was going to pass out and bleed from his nose. 

“I don’t think so baby sister,” Neteyam ruffled her hair, trying to present himself in a lighthearted way, despite his creeping blush. Kiri smacked his hand away. 

“Listen to me, you idiot.” Kiri’s serious voice felt like a hot knife running through Neteyam’s soul. She never sounded this way, this upset. “She loves you. And, and she thinks that you only think of her as a little sister.” Neteyam chuckled at that, he never treated her the way he treated Kiri and Tuk. Surely, that was obvious, no? “I know. I laughed too.” Kiri said with a small smile. She took Neteyam’s hands into her own, like she did with you only a few hours prior.

“Neteyam, she thinks that she’s ugly, that she will never be enough for you. She thinks she’s not talented.” Kiri’s round eyes filled with empathetic tears for her best friend, thinking back on your small frame sobbing in the long grass. 

Neteyam’s blush soon turned to anger. His heart finding the possessive pit that he reserves only for his feelings for you.  “I do not understand, does she not know that everyone wants her?” Neteyam hissed in a low voice, Eywa forbid, Neytiri heard him talk about how the other boys of the clan view (y/n). Neteyam hated how they spoke of her body, her face, her mind. Her beautiful voice and nimble hands. Only he was allowed to think of you like that. And the Great Mother only knows how they think of you at night, how they think of you when they- 

Neteyam stopped himself before he went any further. He knew how he thought about you at night when he has a hand between his thighs. 

“She does not know.” Kiri said, bringing Neteyam back to the forefront of his mind. “I have never told her.” 

Neteyam’s heart swelled in a terrible way. You were so sweet, so innocent, you did not know that boys rutted into their own hands at the thought of the way your waist dips, or the mound of your breast. He needed to protect you, and Jesus, he thought he had by laying an unofficial possessive claim. But, it seems that the future Olo’eyktan has been ignored. 

A growl fell out of Neteyam’s mouth. To Kiri it looked like a dark light fell over her brother’s features. A man possessed. He stood, cracking his neck and shoulders, like he always did, but this time Kiri flinched. She had never seen Neteyam so…scary. 

“I will fix this tomorrow, sister.” Was all Neteyam said, as he retreated to the sleeping quarters of their home. 

(y/n) did not sleep a wink. All she could see in her mind’s eye was Neteyam. Neteyam laughing with other girls, Neteyam riding with other girls. How they wave to him when he walks past.

Neteyam. Neteyam. Neteyam. 

You felt so guilty, so, so guilty. As the night went on your thoughts went south, went dirty and wrong. You dreamt about kissing Neteyam; How soft his lips would feel against your own. His rough, calloused hands would hold your face in place and he would kiss you like he loved you, kissed you like he meant it. 

Simply, you did not deserve to hold romantic thoughts about Neteyam in your heart like that. He was not yours. He would never be. 

You quick hands made light work of the repair you were currently undertaking. You enjoyed your work as clan seamstress. Fixing, making loin cloths, beading breast covers and threading jewellery. You enjoyed the freedom to create things, but to also be useful to your clan. You could never offer them safety, food, medicine or freedom. But you could make sure they were warm in the cool rains, and protected from the glistening sun in the heat of the day. 

You folded the repaired loincloth, placing it to the side. Ready for its owner to pick it up when they had a moment to spare. 

The flap to the tent flew open, causing you to jump out of your skin. The last person you wanted to see stood in the entry way, ripped loincloth in hand. 

“Good morning, Neteyam.” You said softly, casting your gaze downwards. He quickly sat across from you, legs crossed like a child. 

“Well, it’s good now.” He smiled brightly. You felt all the blood run to your cheeks. “Do you uh, do you mind fixing this for me?” He said, stumbling over his own words, handing over the dark green textile. 

“Of course, easy fix.” Your fingers brushed his and you felt like your hands had been set on fire. Shaking, you began stitching the fabric back together. You knitted your brows together as you worked, not wanting to see his face any longer, the more you stared at your hands, the worse they shook. This tear made no sense, it was cleanly cut with a knife. Neteyam had purposely ripped his own loincloth. “How did this even happen?” You asked. 

“I needed an excuse to come and see you, my (y/n).” Neteyam spoke softly, reaching out to take one of your hands, distracting them from their job. His eyes caught yours, and you knew you were done. So warm, so full of life and love. 

“Neteyam-” You started, but he cut you off. Something of which Neteyam had never done before. 

“I know you do not see yourself how I see you.” He started, his stare holding you to the spot, you sent a brief prayer to Eywa, that this was not some cruel trick. “You are the most beautiful creature that has ever walked these lands. You care so deeply for the people, the forest.” His hand ran the length of your arm, goosebumps rising in his wake. “I see you. I love you. I want you.” Neteyam said vehemently. 

You felt everything, everywhere, all at once. Everything you have ever wanted to hear had fallen out of his mouth like it was always meant to be. It sounded so right. It sounded natural and real. It was so out of character for Neteyam, to be so open, so raw and honest with his feelings. 

So, under the guise of love, you acted out of character too. Like for like. 

Taking his beautiful, soft face between your small, shaking hands, you kissed him. Pulling away for breath, you remembered what needed to be said.

“I have always seen you, Neteyam.” 

[emmy19-05]

So Long, London

Ona Batlle x Reader

GIF from: GIF Maker (ios app)

SUMMARY: After multiple years of playing soccer in London, you return to your hometown to join a highly regarded local team. Upon arrival, you are reunited with Ona, an old teammate, who has become a key player on the team. Despite some initial tension and unresolved feelings from the past, Ona offers you a room in her apartment. As you settle in and start training, a flood in your room forces you to stay with Ona, leading to a rekindling of old emotions and a deep, unexpected connection between you two.

SMUT 18+

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

Warning!! Contains: cunnilingus, strap/strap sucking, fingering, dirty talk, praising, etc.

(ONA AND THE READER ARE SWITCHES!! They both give and receive in this.)

I’m aware this is longer than most of my other fics😭 but i really enjoyed writing this! This is for all of you who voted for Ona in my poll. haha

Word Count: 2.9k

You are about to board your plane, leaving your old life behind in London. Your time with Chelsea is finally up. You feel sad leaving your old team behind, but you feel you need to start a new chapter in your life. You are excited to go back to your hometown and to hopefully reconnect with some old friends. As you board the plane you think about how excited you are to join the new team who offered you a contract. The team is known in your hometown to be really good and talented, and you can’t wait to meet your new coach and teammates.

You just landed in your hometown, which you haven’t visited in multiple years. You decide to head to your hotel. You just got the offer for the contract recently, so you don’t have a permanent place to stay yet. As you wait in the Uber for the driver to drive you to your hotel, you think about how much you’re going to miss Chelsea and all your friends you almost consider your family.

You realize that your Uber driver is looking at you, you then look out your window to see that you are at your hotel. You hurry up and get out hoping you weren’t staring off into space for too long since he looks annoyed at you. As you walk up to the front desk to check-in you check your phone and see a text from Zecira, a goalie from Chelsea, who you became good friends with during your time at Chelsea. She just wished you a safe travels which you reply a quick thank you and a quick update on everything.

After checking into your hotel, you check the time. It’s currently 3:28pm and you have training at 5pm, you decide to start to get ready. You shower and put on your training kit, excited to meet your new team and coach, you then get into an Uber to head to the stadium.

Traffic is horrible, so you are glad you left early. You forget how bad traffic is here. Especially near the stadium. Your hotel is only 10 minutes away from the stadium, but the Uber’s navigation you can see on the dashboard is saying another 21 minutes. You huff out and start to feel anxious, you simply cannot be late on your first training.

You get into the locker room at 5:24 and you feel immediate relief that you aren’t late . You don’t see any other players in the locker room, so you figure that they’re already on the field warming up. As you put your stuff in your assigned locker, you walk out onto the field at exactly 5:30, well and 39 seconds, but who’s counting? You look around to see if you see the coach so you can go introduce yourself. You spot her in the corner of the pitch talking to some other players. You feel excited to introduce yourself to everyone, but kinda nervous too. You haven’t done much research about the team or who’s on it, you just know they’ve been top of the league for multiple seasons. So you were honored to see they wanted to sign you. As you walk over to your coach you see her look up and smile at you

“Well hello, you must be y/n” The coach says

“Yes, I am! It’s very nice to meet you ma’am.” You say

“Oh please, coach is fine.”

“Ok you got it, coach,” you laugh as she smiles at you.

She’s an older woman probably in her mid 50’s, but she seems really nice. You’re happy at least the coach likes you, well at least you hope.

“Ok, well let’s go introduce you to the team.” Coach says

“Ok, let’s do it.” You smile

You feel tense and nervous hoping you get along with everyone. As you walk up to the team you go to look at all of them, but someone immediately catches your eye. You recognize her from your old team before you made it to the big leagues and moved to London to play in the WSL. You feel tense as she eyes you up and down. You wonder if she recognizes you. It’s been years after all and you look way different. Ona is a full-back, one of the best you’ve ever seen. Ona looks different too, she looks good, really good. You were surprised she never decided to go pro, guess you were wrong because she did, only if you kept in touch. You remember reaching out to her, she always texted you back, of course, but you remember her replies to you always getting shorter and shorter.

You realize the whole time you were thinking about Ona, Coach was introducing you to everyone. You weren’t paying attention at all. It’s going to be awkward having to re-ask everyone’s names because you weren’t paying attention.

“y/n, now that you’ve met everyone, Ona here informed me that you two were on an old team together years back, so I decided to make Ona your official partner for the next few games, consider her a guide. If you have any questions just ask me or her.”

You glare at Ona and she raises her eyebrow and winks. You roll your eyes wondering why Ona after all these years after you ghosting you wanted to be your “guide” you scoff.

“Hello, y/n” Ona walks up to you and says

“Hi,” You say “surprised you remember me.”

“Why wouldn’t I remember you?” Ona says

“Why do you think? Actually never mind don’t answer that. I really don’t care” You begin to walk away.

Ona grabs your wrist and says

“You can’t ignore me forever, princesa,”

You roll your eyes at the nickname she gave you. You remember her calling you that all those years ago then you walk away annoyed.

Game day (2 weeks later)

You are in the locker room getting ready for the first game of the season. Since you barely joined the team; you aren’t starting, but Ona is. You are at least a sub though. You don’t care though it’s routine for every new team you join. You usually don’t immediately start. Especially your first game.

Your team wins the game 3-1. You get subbed in during half-time. You think you did pretty good for your first game on a new team. Ona comes up to you and says

“Hey we are going to go out for some drinks to celebrate if you wanna join us?”

“No thanks” You say

“Oh please, come on.” Ona says

“No, I have to meet up with my real estate agent later tonight and I'm not showing up drunk.”

“Real estate agent, what?” Ona questions

“Since the offer to sign here was so last minute, I am currently staying in a hotel until I can find an apartment to permanently live in.” You say.

One of your teammates puts her arm around Ona’s shoulder and says

“Just stay with Ona for now? You seem to get along, I think at least. Actually, I’m not sure now that I’m thinking about it, but Ona’s roommate just moved out to live with her boyfriend and she has a spare room.” She basically sings out thinking she just solved your problem.

“Absolutely not,” You say. “That’s a horrible idea,”

“What? Why not? That’s actually a good idea, rent is only $1,000 a month each for a two bedroom. I’ll even give you a discount, princesa” Ona says “I was thinking about putting up a “roommate wanted” sign, but I don’t think that’s needed anymore” Ona winks at you.

“Let me think about it,” You say

“Sure,” Ona says.

You go back to the hotel you are staying at and think about the arrangement Ona offered. Only $1,000 a month? That’s nothing. Every apartment in the area is at least $2,000 a month, and that’s for a studio-one bedroom. You decide to text Ona, hoping you still have her number from years ago and that it's still the same.

Me: Yes.

You wait hoping to hear from her soon. While you wait, you decide to shower. You think you probably should’ve been a little more descriptive than just “yes,” but you don’t care, it's fine.

After you shower you hear a ding come from your phone. You pick up your phone, it’s Ona. Your heart rate speeds up.

Ona: I was wondering when I’d hear from you, princesa.

You two talk about a move in date and the payment details and other things about the apartment that you two need to discuss.

Move-in day

You wake up at 9am, you are officially moving into Ona’s apartment today at 10am, you and Ona decided a time that would work for both of you guys. You hate that your only day off you had to wake up so early, but you’re grateful Ona is even letting you move in and is helping you move as well.

You pack up your bags, and since you moved and currently don’t have a car, Ona offered to pick you and your stuff up from the hotel, you happily took the offer.

You get a knock at your door and Ona is there.

“Wow” you say looking at the Apple Watch on your hand “I’m surprised you’re actually 4 minutes early, you must be excited. The one and only Ona Batlle is early for once.” You smile at her and she chuckles at your joke.

Ona helps you get your bags moved into her SUV. You sit in comfortable silence as she drives you downtown to her 2 bedroom apartment, well I guess you could say your guy’s apartment now.

Few hours later…

You are officially moved in. Since you didn’t come with much, just the few suitcases you brought on the plane with you, it only took maybe an hour or two to put all your stuff away. You decide to take a bath from being all sweaty from unpacking. Ona is gone and said she’d be back in a few hours. You turn on the faucet in the bathroom connected to your room and go back to your bed to read for a little bit while the bath fills up.

You wake up to yelling realizing then you fell asleep while reading. You look up at Ona yelling and wondering what she’s on about. You go to get up and your socks feel wet. You then realize you left the water on and your whole room is flooded. Fuck. You think to yourself. The first day you moved in and you flooded your room. Great…

“Ona, oh my god, I am so sorry, I fell asleep I don’t know what I was thinking.” You say “I- I’ll pay for the damage,” You begin to say.

Ona walks up to you and says

“Well this is great, this is only a two bedroom apartment and I don’t even know where you’ll sleep. Who do you even call for a flooding incident? Are there even people for that?” Ona says angrily and confused

“I’m not sure”

“Well it’s saturday, i’m not even sure if places like that are open on weekends, i’ll have to call around on Monday” Ona says “Buckle up, princess, looks like you’re sleeping with me for the next 2 days” she looks at you “minimum,” she continues.

You groan and start to try to apologize again, but Ona cuts you off quickly and says

“It’s fine, it was obviously an accident, don’t worry about it,” She smiles sadly at you.

It’s 1am and you’re trying so hard to stay awake to avoid having to lay with Ona because AWKWARD… But as it hits 1:30am you decide she’s probably sleeping so you’ll just sneak in there and go to sleep. Hoping not to wake her because that’s the last thing you need. She’s already being kind enough by letting you lay with her, you don’t want to wake her up in the process. As you crawl into her bed you close your eyes and immediately start to drift off. It’s been a long day, you think to yourself.

You wake up to feeling something on your stomach. You look at the clock and it reads 3:47am, damn you were barely asleep for 3 hours, damn you Ona. You look down and Ona’s hand is sprawled on your stomach, she begins to play with the drawstrings of your sweatpants you’re currently wearing.

“Ona, you’re sleeping, wake up.” You say

“Not sleeping,” You hear her say

You tense because you think why the fuck is she doing this? It feels too good to tell her to stop though, so you let her continue.

Ona begins to play with your waistband and whispers into your ear

“Can I”

You nod

She slowly creeps her hand into your sweatpants while her front is placed against your back.

“Turn over, sweet girl” She whispers into your ear.

You turn over and she begins to rub you through your underwear.

You moan because damn, Ona knows what she’s doing.

“You don’t know how long I've dreamed of hearing those sounds come from you.”

Your curiosity gets the best of you.

“How long?” You ask

“Since 6 years ago”

You gasp, she’s wanted you all this long? Why did she ghost you then? You think to yourself.

You pull her hands out of your pants and flip her so she’s on her back and you’re straddling her thighs.

You stare at her and Ona pulls you down and kisses you deeply, you moan into her mouth as she fucks your mouth with her tongue. You pull your mouth away from hers and she gasps as you start to kiss her neck sweetly. You begin to kiss down her body and when you get the bottom half of her body, you pull her pants and underwear down.

“Spread your legs for me,” You say

As she does, you put your mouth closer to her and begin to eat her out. She began to moan as you pull your mouth away and begin to finger her.

“Tell me,” You say

“Anything,” Ona says

“Why’d you ghost me all those years ago?” You say

“Anything but that, please.” She says

“Tell me, or I’ll stop.”

She keeps her mouth shut so you pull your fingers out of her and begin to get up.

“Wait no, I’ll tell you just don’t stop, please.” Ona says

You put your fingers back in her and she says

“It hurt too much”

“What do you mean?” You said

“You left me, I liked you so much and you just left, without a second thought.”

“Oh,” You say, feeling ashamed

“I liked you so much, I was going to tell you on my birthday, but left on the 6th, my birthday is on the 10th,” She frowns “You left 4 days before my birthday, you know how sad that made me” she huffs out

“I’m so sorry, I had no clue,” You say sitting there.

“Yeah, that’s the problem.” She says

She gets up and flips you so now she’s on top

“I know how you can make it up to me,”

“Yes, anything,” You say

“You can let me fuck you,” She smirks

You begin to smile

“Well, if you’re offering,” You say

“Oh I differently am,” Ona says

She goes to get the strap from the nightstand

You stare at her as she begin to put the harness around her

“Open up” she says

She sticks the strap into your mouth as you begin to suck it

“You like my cock, baby girl?” Ona says “You suck me so good, fuck I could get off just from watching you suck me”

You moan at that, practically begging her to touch you.

“You want me inside you?” Ona smirks

You pull your mouth off the strap

“Yes, please, Ona. Fuck me,” You say

“Spread your legs, just like that, a little wider, there you go, that’s my good girl” Ona says

You moan at her praises.

Ona crawls in between your legs and slips the strap inside you.

“Fuck you’re so beautiful, princesa,” Ona says while staring into your eyes.

“Fuck Ona keep going please” You begin to moan loudly.

You begin to feel yourself about to cum

“Ona, I’m so close, keep going. Don’t stop,”

Ona pulls out of you and you whine, but she immediately starts to eat you out. It feels so good, as good or maybe even better than the strap. Ona knows how to eat someone out, that’s for sure.

She stops eating you out and begins to finger you. While her fingers are still inside you, she comes up and kisses you breathlessly. As she kisses your neck, Ona whispers, only for you to hear.

“Cum for me, princesa,”

You cum. Hard. That was probably the hardest you’ve ever came, you think.

“God, we are so doing that again.” You say as Ona smiles down at you.

“Oh absolutely” Ona says while smiling and slowly kissing your neck.

“Ready for round 2? You say

Ona laughs and starts to crawl down your body

I’m not sure if i’ll make a part 2 on this, let me know if you guys want one! :)

ALSO, who else loves the Taylor Swift reference?😏

[forever-rogue]

hello, lovely! i've been re-reading your works like CRAZY, you're so talented! 🩷 can i pretty please request for a friends-to-lovers one with eddie where the reader's ex suddenly comes back to her life and tries to win her back, and eddie realizes his feelings for the reader? i LIVE for jealous!eddie too sksksks thank you! 🩷

AN | Nothing good happens when the ex comes to town, right? 🥰

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Modern!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.5k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Guess what,” you walked into Eddie’s cozy coffee shop, waving at a few regulars as you made your way over to the counter. He stopped what he was doing and looked at you with expectant eyes, a lazy little half smile on his features, “hiya!”

“Hi sweetheart,” he leaned onto the counter, resting his chin in his hands as he looked at you gently, “lemme guess…chicken butt?”

“Very funny,” you leaned in and kissed his cheek before you reached over and helped yourself to one of his brownies. He always saved at least one for you, which was something that always made you feel warm and fuzzy inside, “but no.”

“Do tell then,” he grinned as he turned back to the espresso maker, “gingerbread flat white?”

“Ooh, yes please,” you watched him work in awe before he came back over to you, setting the cup carefully in front of you, “no, the exciting thing that happened to me was that I saw August today!”

Eddie’s face dropped immediately as his jaw clenched, “August.”

“Yes!” you looked happy and somehow that made his stomach churn, “he came into the office today to consult with one of the designers and I saw him when I was leaving! He had no clue I worked there and I had no clue he was there.”

“Your ex,” he pointed out as you lifted up the cup and started to drink the delicious latte, “August, your ex.”

“Yes,” you raised an eyebrow before sighing lightly, “we’re still…well I wouldn’t say friends. But we needed things amicably if you don’t remember.”

“You cried over him for weeks,” he almost shouted but quickly dropped his voice as he narrowed his eyes, “he broke your heart!”

“Yes, he broke up with me, but it wasn’t over anything bad,” you cringed when you remembered that you really had been upset when August had broken up with you, “we just weren’t good together. That’s all.”

“I never liked him,” that was the understatement of the century. Eddie didn’t just dislike August, he hated and loathed him entirely. You’d broken your heart and Eddie couldn’t stand that. Just like he hated the face that he was dating you in the first place. Eddie had been in love with you for as long as he could remember. Probably since the day he’d met you over ten years ago, “he’s always been a little bit…scrungly.”

“Scrungly?” you repeated, almost choking on the coffee in between your giggles, “what does that even mean?” 

“I don’t know, just like scrungly,” he flailed his arms dramatic, “either way I don’t like him.”

“I’m well aware, Edward,” you reached over and gave his hand a squeeze, “but it is what it is…and we’re going hang out and go bowling soon.”

“You’re what?” he looked like he was going to explode and you couldn’t help but laugh nervously. You’d always wondered why he didn’t like August but he never really had a solid reason. You figured it was just some weird guy thing, “why are you hanging out with him?!”

“Because he asked if I wanted to hang out and there’s no reason not to,” you straightened up and grabbed your coffee, “look, Eddie, I know you mean well, but you don’t have to worry. It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. We’re just going to hang out once and if it’s completely terrible I never have to see him again, and if it goes well maybe we can be friends. Okay?”

“Yeah,” he lied right through his teeth, “okay.”

“I’ve gotta go,” you took a step back and offered him a small smile, “see you tomorrow for movie and pizza night?”

“Of course,” like he would miss a chance to spend time with you, “love you.”

“Love you too, Eddie,” you promised. If only he knew how very much, “thanks for the coffee.”

“Anytime.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hey!” you looked up from your phone when you heard the sound of August’s cheery voice. Tucking your phone into your pocket, you walked over and met him halfway to say hello. He pulled you in for a friendly hug, “you look great. It’s good to see you again. Really good.”

“It’s good to see you too Auggie,” you felt your face warm up but decided to ignore it as you walked up towards the bowling alley. You reminded yourself that this was a friendly outing and not a date, “I can’t believe you’re back in Indy now.”

“I can’t believe you work as an interior designer,” he held the door open and you were immediately overwhelmed by the sounds of people bowling, talking, and laughing. You looked at him with a shy smile and shrugged. It hadn’t been a career you would have thought of either, but Eddie had nudged in the direction after you’d helped him design his cafe. Besides becoming friends with Eddie, it was one of the best designs you’d ever made.

“It just sort of happened but I love it,” you walked towards the counter to get your shoes and a lane, “you remember Eddie, right? He helped me get there, he was a huge supporter.”

You both gave your shoe sizes to the bored looking clerk and when he told you the price for everything, you moved to reach for your wallet but August gently pushed your hand away, “I’ve got this.”

“Okay,” you gave him a starry eyed smile as he grabbed both pairs of shoes and started to head towards the lane that was now reserved for you. The bowling alley always had a very distinct smell but it was so nostalgic to be there, “I haven’t been bowling in forever. This was a good idea! I think the last time I went was a couple of years ago with Eddie.”

“Eddie,” you couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking from the tone in his voice, “you’re still friends with him?”

“Of course,” you finished pulling on your shoes and looked at him curiously, “he’s my best friend.”

“He’s in love with you,” okay. That was definitely annoyance in his voice and you had no clue why, “I’ll be honest with you, it was one of the reasons we broke up in the first place. Sometimes it felt like you were dating him, not me.”

“I…he’s not in love with me,” your mind was reeling at what he had said and you couldn’t help but wonder - what if? What if Eddie really was in love with you? No…you weren’t even going to bother to entertain that thought, “you broke up with me because of Eddie?”

“It wasn’t entirely him,” he dropped his voice and looked at you sweetly, “but people change and grow, you know? You never know what could happen.”

There was definitely a suggestive tone to his voice that was not lost on you. You only managed a small smile in return before clambering nervously to pick up your bowling ball. You felt his fingers brush along your back as you moved, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin. 

“You never know,” you agreed nervously, voice almost a squeak as you went to take your first shot. That did have you thinking though - would you want to get back together with him? You had never really thought about it…but the idea wasn’t all that bad either. It wasn’t like people were lining up out the door to ask you out…sometimes you had to take what you could get. 

A part of you was excited by the prospect - he was a good looking, nice guy that you did love once upon a time. On the other hand, you didn’t want to open that can of worms and let anything happen that could end with another broken heart. Plus there was the issue of Eddie. Realistically it was a non-issue. But you knew that your heart would always long for and yearn for Eddie. You loved him, you’d known that for a long time, but you always knew that nothing would ever happen or change between the two of you.

August continued to be friendly enough and you didn’t think anything of it, but as the night progressed, you could tell that things had changed. You hadn’t done anything, not to your knowledge anyway, to act flirty or make it seem like you wanted anything but friendship with him. It was his comments about Eddie that had you experiencing a feeling of unease. The way he’d talked about him just didn’t sit right with you.

By the time the two of you felt the bowling alley and parted with August pressing a kiss to your cheek, you’d realized that this definitely had been a date.��

Fuck. You really hadn’t expected this to happen. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ever since the night you’d gone out with August, Eddie was behaving oddly towards you. You couldn’t quite place it but you hated the idea that he was any bit mad or annoyed with you. 

You’d been texting with August back and forth, and you were both following each other again on social media. You’d made plans for a casual lunch date soon; it was since Eddie had learned about your second outing that he’d been acting weird. You were pretty sure that he was just downright ignoring you. But you weren’t about to let that stop you from being his friend. 

“Hey there,” you walked into the shop when you knew it would be slow and he’d be there. You were almost positive that he’d been avoiding you and had his employees cover for him when you came to the shop. Eddie’s face paled as soon as he saw you, but he still managed a tight lipped smile, “everything alright, Eddie? I feel you’ve been…avoiding me.”

“I haven’t been…I’ve just been busy,” he shrugged noncommittally as he went back to scrub at the counter, “that’s all.”

“You’ve always been a horrible liar, Edward,” you walked up to the counter and offered him what you hoped was a reassuring smile, “did I do something wrong?”

“I…no. You didn’t,” he still wouldn’t meet your eyes but pushed a muffin towards you. Of course he still would save your favorite for you, “it’s nothing.”

“Funny,” you willed him to look at you but the boy still refused, “it doesn’t feel like it. Ever since I hung out with August you’ve been…weird.”

"You don't get it, do you?" He sighed in frustration, tossing his rag to the side and waving his hands around dramatically as you looked at him in confusion. He inhaled and exhaled deeply before brushing his wild curls out of his face, "I want you. I want to date you. I'm in love with you."

"Oh," it came out more as a small squeak than anything as you looked at him to make sure you'd heard him correctly. Eddie looked close to tears as he waited for some kind of response from you. You pointed at yourself before whispering, "me?"

"Yes," he nodded seriously, "you. I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted to hear but it's the truth. And I just wanted to get it out there."

"Oh," this time realization set in. Eddie Munson was in love with you. Not some other girl like you'd always assumed, "you're in love with me."

"Yes. Yes," he felt so nervous he was surprised he didn't just barf then and there, "listen-"

"I'm in love with you too,” your voice was quiet and shaky, but Eddie heard you loud and clear. When he didn’t say anything at first, you completely freaked out and ran through the back of the cafe and into the chilly evening. He followed after you immediately and didn’t stop still he caught up. 

He perked up and looked at you from under his lashes, studying your face to make sure he’d heard you correctly. You offered a small, shy smile along with a shrug, “I’m…nervous. I dunno, I kind of always thought you knew but you never said because you didn’t want to hurt my feelings or let me down.”

“I - ugh, what…I’m - sweetheart,” the nickname sounded so sugary sweet now that you knew the true intentions behind it, “if I had any clue that you felt the same way, I would have said something long ago. I should have just done that anyway.”

“Oh,” your cheeks warmed up, a combination of nerves and the chilly of the winter air as you looked at the pretty boy. You were stopped from saying anything else as big, flat snowflakes starting coming down on the two of you. A grin spread across your face as you held up your hand to catch a few flakes in your hand, “it’s snowing.”

Eddie watched you in awe, enamored by every little bit of you. He reached over and put his hand on your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek. Your breath hitched in your throat as you look at him expectantly. You knew what was coming but at the same time you didn’t want to assume anything, “I really want to kiss you.”

“I really want you to kiss me too,” you grinned as you leaned in closer, meeting him halfway until your lips met his. It was a sweet, slow thing, tender but hungry at the same time. Both of you had been wanting this for way too long, and now your dreams were finally coming true.

A first kiss in the middle of the first snow of the season. How could it get any more perfect? 

Eddie took your face in his hands, and peppered your face in kisses, which only caused you to giggle, “c’mon pretty girl. Let’s get inside and get some hot chocolate.”

“That sounds perfect,” you reached for his hand and laced your fingers together and pulled him back towards the cafe, “c’mon handsome.”

“But first promise me one thing,” he stopped you nervously as you raised an eyebrow at him, “promise me you won’t see him again. He’s the worst.”

“I promise,” you definitely weren’t planning on ever seeing him again, “it’s only you for me, Eddie.”

“Yeah,” he agreed softly, “you’re it for me too, sweetheart. Only you.”

[shewrites444]

fire [coriolanus snow x reader smut]

[Hello! It has been awhile. I wanted to switch it up and try out a fic on young Coriolanus Snow’s character from TBOSAS after hearing about the new Hunger Games movie! Please let me know if you enjoy his character. I also apologize if this story has some imperfections, I did not edit it.]

WC - 4.3k

SUMMARY - The reader is a prestigious pianist and composer for the Capitol. She finds herself in a mental, and physical, battle against her attraction to President Snow throughout his dictatorial rule and loveless marriage as months go on. Attempting to get under his skin through a rather bold encounter, she finds herself back to where she started as he reminds her of their similarities, but she holds more power above him than anticipated. 

WARNINGS - Cheating, angst, cursing, choking, fingering, detailed & unprotected sex. Coriolanus is a bit sexist and also doesn’t know how to shut the hell up, so fair warning on that. 

-

Coriolanus had spent the past few months focused on nothing but his political reputation, and the power he only continued to gain in the Capitol, along with the Districts. Well, it was more of a submission than anything, fear spread through Panem as his reign as President, or as many called him, a dictator, was unveiled. 

He had no focus on his chosen wife, Livia Cardew, knowing that she was solely a prop for visual acceptance, a showcase of a wife that he was able to find someone who supported him through his political career, and the most important time of the year, of course, The Hunger Games.

When the games were approaching, the Capitol organized several socials and meetings throughout the upcoming weeks in order to network Coriolanus with his political and social allies, the game-makers, the Academy students that were interested in working with Dr. Gaul and the rest of her associates, and any other connections that were essential to the duration of a successful season. 

I found it disgusting, and inhumane, just like those in the Districts, but I, just like everyone else who was ranked underneath President Snow, had to find ways to cautiously approach such a season of brutality. 

Serving the Capitol as a pianist and musical coordinator by trade, I found ways to avoid the Districts and remain in a fairly comfortable lifestyle as the years went on. I had been working mainly for Coriolanus’ wife, Livia, for her social events held with other women of the Capitol on weekends, typically. I had assumed Livia told Coriolanus of my talents, and the orchestra I would often accompany, so that’s when he had me perform before a meeting with several of his associates. That’s when it all began.

Was I just ashamed? Yes, but I was more disgusted with myself than anything. That was the best way to put it.

It was shameful, and quite out of character for me to be a mistress, for one, but it was worse to know the same man I often slept with was the reason for so many innocent and unforgiving deaths across Panem. How the hell was I supposed to get out of this entanglement, though? If I left, or even expressed that I was thinking about it, I’d be as good as dead. 

I hadn’t seen him in a few weeks, but when the buzz amongst the games began to pick up, I knew he’d be in my vicinity soon enough. Livia had asked me to perform for a social before the Reaping Ceremony, which I obviously obliged to. Something in me felt that she knew of my arrangement with her husband, but something else told me she didn’t even care. She had all the power in the world, and Coriolanus wouldn’t dare harm her; it would forever damage his reputation. She had nothing to lose. She knew I had everything to lose. 

“You were wonderful, as always.” Livia chimed, handing me a glass of wine as I walked onto the marble floor soon after my performance. I returned a gentle smile, sipping lightly from the clear glass before clearing my throat to speak up. I was used to being rather quiet, given my nature as a pianist. I spent most of my time practicing and playing in solitary, so I was not much of a talker, especially now that things had changed over the course of the past few months, but I kept my composure, and I remembered who I was conversing with. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Snow. I find it an honor you allow me to perform for such special occasions.” I say, my eyes scanning the room as I watch men and women of heavy rank socialize throughout the floor, some already dining, some already on their second drink of the night, maybe more.. 

Livia looked me up and down briefly, watching my nervous demeanor unwind. She watched me stand still, glancing around the chattery room, my fingertips lightly tapping my glass. A small smile wrinkled onto her lips. “Well, I will leave you be, Miss [Y/N], I’m sure you are quite tired.” She reached to gently hold my shoulder, sending a cold shudder across my bare skin. “Have a wonderful evening, alright?”

“Yes, of course, you as well, Mrs. Snow.” I watch her walk away, feeling as if I could finally breathe again. 

I felt faint, nerves stemming from Livia’s appearance sending me over the edge, and the usual guilt I felt only more demanding as seconds passed. I set my glass down before walking out the ballroom’s door, which led down a dim hallway stacked with offices, and a bathroom more towards the back. I had been here plenty of times before, so I knew a spot where I could cool off and freshen up for a few moments. 

Opening the bathroom door, I felt a hand press against the wall beside me, to stop me. I glanced up, his pale, slim fingers planted to the side of my head, making my face turn white. I slowly let go of the door, turning to face Coriolanus. He looked down at me, a sly look on his already smug expression, no shame in his blue eyes. It made my stomach turn.

“President Snow.” I said, my eyes averting to each side of the hallway, scanning the wide space to assure that no one was around, before looking back up to meet his gaze. “You startled me. I was just going to freshen up before heading back to the party.”

“Please, spare me the formality, [Y/N].” He grinned, taking his hand off the wall before moving it to my cheek, making my face heat up. “Come with me, hm?”

“Your wife is not even two doors down, Coriolanus.” I drip his name out in a cautious whisper, which he had given me permission for ages ago. He struck me as the type of man who’d prefer a formal reference, maybe even find attraction in it, but I suppose he’d rather something else from me. I didn’t question it. “And the rest of your business partners, might I add.”

Coriolanus laughed, almost mockingly, at my seriousness. “You think she is not aware of you and I, [Y/N]? She is not a fool.” He patted my flushed cheek before he grabbed my hand. “Now come with me.”

I didn’t argue further, just nodding silently before following him down the hallway. I recognized where he was leading me, just from a different direction. The Capitol was like a maze, at least the inside of it, but I had memorized much of it from Coriolanus, and my work. We head to his bedroom, the sound of my heels clicking against the glossed floor while he walked me further.

I hear him close the door, mentally preparing myself for what was to come. It’s not like I didn’t want him, because I did, it was more that I didn’t want the reprimands of being caught, or feeling so dirty for what I was doing. There was an underlying guilt each and every time I slept with him, or even as much as I spoke to him, no matter what the circumstances were. 

As the door locked, Coriolanus turned to walk towards me, before I took a step back, much to his surprise. He raised one of his light eyebrows, a confused, yet intrigued look on his face. I never denied him, and who’s to say that I was? I didn’t even know what I was doing, other than thinking out loud, which only made my blood run colder.

The tension in the room was tight, and could be cut from a string as thin as the threads that held what was under my gown together. I could hear myself breathing, and my thoughts racing to spit out of my shut mouth. My eyes lifted up to his own, and I stood straight, and firmly.

“Out of all the women in the Capitol, out of everyone you could have in the ways you have me, why did you choose to tangle me into your mess?” I ask, rather impressed with my own forwardness. “Why must it be me?”

Coriolanus shared a similar look as my own, but his expression curated itself into some sort of cheeky grin, almost as if he enjoyed my slight rebellion. He knew I didn’t take orders, so he never bothered ordering me around. He didn’t have to ask, he knew I liked it, and he knew I’d comply, and he also knew I felt guilty every time, but I never posed such a question, until now.

He tucked his hands into his slacks, stepping closer, his slim, tall build hovering before me.

“It is you because I find everything I prefer in you.” He answered flatly, following my questions. “My wife has no regard for anything but her own status, which I can admire, but she does not have any reason to achieve anything more. The women who seek to improve their status, say, by sleeping with me or attempting to, seek to achieve more than they ever will. Then there is you, who is firmly placed in between all of these women, who holds prestige, who holds respect, yet, in every way possible, feels that she is less deserving of it because she holds attraction to the one man she cannot have.”

His words frustrated me beyond my usual measure, and I couldn’t contain the pressure pent up in my chest, eagerly awaiting to push through my quivering lips. He angered me, and he made me feel lesser, when this entire time, he was the one who took out his frustrations on me, and he was the one who ran from every ounce of affection he was once offered, and threw it at me. It was always in the back of my head, yet I found myself in a delusion, one where I would never allow myself to see the truth, but it all came to me as he spoke. 

“You are the one who cannot have me. How could I make that anymore clear? After all this time, all these months of you thinking your usage was one-sided, how could you not see it, Coriolanus?” I loosened up my posture, and stepped forward, nearly closing the irritable gap that was between the two of us. “You are the one who finds me after my performances, you are the one who pursues me, time and time again. I comply, yes, but I am not the one who soughts after you.”

He blinked. I could read it as clear as day that he was taken aback by my words. A satisfying feeling burned in me, yet the tension geared towards the uncertainty of our conversation never left. I spoke up, and I was not pretty about it. What would he do now? Surely a pianist disappearing wasn’t common, but I wasn’t Capitol royalty, so it’s not like he couldn’t disregard me if he wanted to. Would he do that? No, I was too valuable to him in more ways than one. How worked up he got over this affair showed me that.

“Seems we both have our issues.” He hummed. Another foot stepped closer to me, the tip of his shoe nearly stepping on mine, but he knew that. He reached forward after pulling his hands out of his pockets, and cupped my cheeks with both of his cold, large hands. His thumbs pressed against my lips, and I could feel my lipstick brush against his fingers. “Yet neither of us have ended the arrangement between us. Why do you think that is?”

“Don’t make me answer that.” I shake my head, reaching my hands up to pull him off of me, and lightly push him away. “I will not engage in such a conversation.”

“You’re the one who started this conversation.” Coriolanus grabbed my wrists, yanking me forward. He leaned down to press his lips against my own, causing me to gasp, and attempt to fight it, but I couldn’t.

He knew I liked it, and he knew how to use it against me. I sunk into the feeling for a brief moment, before I pushed him off me, my hands planted against his dress shirt as I gripped the material, holding him in place while he looked down at me, his once slicked back curls falling forward, a few loose hairs against his forehead as he grinned, my lipstick against his pale lips. He tilted his head, his hands moving to grip my waist rather harshly, just enough to keep me still.

“Do I have to remind you how crucial this arrangement is to you? To make you answer my question, hm?” He held me, walking me closer to the opposite side of the room. Aggressively, he kissed me once more, flipping my body to face his vanity, while still keeping my face turned to his own.

He ran his hands down the side of my gown, bunching it up enough that he could push it underneath my chest to remain upright. “You claim to despise what happens between us so much, and you hate that you are what stands between my marriage, yet you cannot seem to walk out the door. Come on, [Y/N], you and I both know you are a bit afraid to fully defy me, but you don’t even try to, until now. But it’s all talk, you’ll never really break anything off.” He reached between my legs, which nearly trembled at his touch, as his fingers slipped into my underwear. 

“And you’re already wet.” Coriolanus mocked, looking at me in the mirror as he slowly slipped one of his fingers into me. He watched my mouth open, a pleased, and frankly, egotistical grin on his face, knowing he had gotten to that part of me so quickly. “Is this why you have not ended what continues on between us? Because no man can make you cum the way I do? Am I really so vital to you?”

“You are insufferable.” I gasp, closing my eyes as he began to work his fingers into me, the sounds of my pleasure much more relevant in his room than I’d prefer them to be. “There are many things you refuse to admit to me, too.”

“Exactly.” Coriolanus looked between my legs as I stood before him, the pressure in his pants brushing against the back of my gown. “We are two different people, yes, but we both have secrets that we strongly refuse to admit, yet we can read it on each other’s faces. You know I’m right. I see you more than anyone else, and you hate it. You hate that I can see you.”

“Then why do you treat this with such amusement?” I chime back, opening my eyes to glue them to what was occurring before me. I could feel his free hand move to begin sliding my underwear down. “Why do you mock me, when the scenario applies to yourself?”

“Because I have nothing to lose.” He returns, shooting me a glare as he drops my underwear to the floor as they pass my hips. “My wife is aware of my distaste for her, and for much of any affections. The Capitol will never question me because they know their lives, and their families, are at stake. No one will question me, [Y/N]. They have too much to lose.”

I feel him move his hand behind my back, tugging at the zipper that restrained him. He keeps his rhythm, and he keeps his eyes against my figure. He knew he had the upper hand, it would be impossible for me to overturn his rank, and his power, and nearly everything he had that I did not. I was constantly reminded of it, especially like this. 

“Then why entertain the idea of me holding any sort of power over you through our affections? Why bother administering mockery upon me, Coriolanus?” I hiss through clear annoyance, struggling to hide the pleasure that wouldn’t seem to brush away from my core. He wasn’t giving up any sort of competence. 

Coriolanus lightly pulled his fingers from me, grazing them against my inner thighs before turning me around, and holding them to his mouth. He licked his fingertips, causing my stomach to drop at the sight, while a smirk cracked onto his tinted lips. 

“I have never been with a woman who tastes as good as you.” The sound of his tongue swirling against his fingers made me weak, and the way that someone so manipulative, so cruel, was licking a part of me, felt wrong, yet it didn’t. It was a confusing battle with oneself. “You hold that power, if you must know.”

He pulled his fingers away from his lips, wiping his hand against my dress before tugging it out from under my covered chest, standing straight as he began to pull it off me, and I just let him. Fucking hell.

“You think I’d fuck a woman I didn’t hold any sort of value to? You think I would waste my time with mindless affairs filled with women whose sole purpose in life is to please me, and to please their husbands? The only pleasure they gain from me is validation, nothing more.” He moved my dress down my shoulders. “You want me to fuck you, [Y/N]. Not just any man of rank, me. It makes you sick, doesn’t it?”

“You fancy me just as much as you do anything else you do for yourself.” I feel him move my gown above my head, over my long, slicked ponytail. “You do this for yourself, no one else. You like that I feel such a way.”

He shook his head, dropping my dress on the floor beside my underwear. “Power and value are different. If I wanted to have power over a woman, I’d be fucking my wife, not you.”

My eyes widened at his words. What was his angle here? This argument was endless. “Then why do you act like you have so much power over me? You want to talk to me about value, yet you show none of it. You only exert power, and your ego, against me everytime I feel your touch. You fuck me like you own me, like you hold such a rule, yet you claim that I hold some sort of power. You baffle me.” 

He took my hands and moved them to his length, in which I nearly shivered upon touch, reminded of each and every time he came close to me, and how large he felt when he was inside me. I lightly stroked him soon after I spoke, watching his bottom lip slightly fall at my fingers. He began to unbutton his shirt.

“Am I supposed to make this easy for you?” He teased, sliding his shirt off his shoulders, now standing in nothing but his unzipped pair of pants and boxers that rested just above them. “Must all you women figure things out without assistance for once?”

“Oh, god,” I scoff, my eyes rolling off irritable instinct as I continued my actions against his stiffened cock. “You are-”

“Insufferable?” Coriolanus cued, raising his brows, his hands moving to guide me towards his bed, as we mutually climbed onto it. “I don’t imagine my cock is insufferable, at least, given your generous duration of touch.”

I groan, watching him lay as I motion my body on top of his. If I had some sort of power, as he seemed to suspiciously claim I do, surely I could show it? I glance at him, feeling his hands reach below to grab my ass, toying with the loose flesh as his instinct brought me above him. 

I don’t respond, rather slide on top of him in a swift motion, causing the both of us to moan rather loudly, nearly echoing across his lavish suite of a bedroom. I watched his eyes fall to my bare chest, before gliding down to the movement between us, as I began to move my body forward. 

“If you claim that I am of such value to you… and you give into submissions at times, then you’ll allow me to control you… hm?” I speak between heavy breaths, feeling his thick, restless cock bury between my thighs as I create a rhythm above him. 

“Like I said to you before, [Y/N], I’m not supposed to make it easy for you.” His eyes never left our bodies while he guided me down. “You’ll see.”

I lean down, his cock angling itself at a curve as I reach to slide my hands to his shoulders, gently kneading at his flesh before resting both palms against his pale neck, my nails digging into the back of it, sliding into his blonde locks. A grin tugs at my lips while I press them against his own, feeling his tongue slide into my mouth and muffle the moans I made with each stroke. 

I squeeze at his neck, my thumbs pressing against his adam’s apple while I ride his cock. Thrust after thrust, I could feel him twitch, knowing he was growing weaker and weaker as I went on. He liked the dominance, but he’d never admit it. Instead he’d toy with me, attempt to make me feel as if I had to work for his value, when I already had it. I had him, and I had all this time. I had nothing to lose. 

“What if it melts?” I ask vaguely, looking down at him amidst the loose hairs against my face. “What will you do then?”

Coriolanus released his hands from my ass, moving them higher to my chest, his thumbs toying with my hardened nipples as he held me up, but my hands remained on his throat. I could feel it move as he spoke. “What if what melts?” 

“Snow.” I breathe heavily at his stimulating touch, while I begin to pick up my speed between us. “What will you do if the snow melts?”

Coriolanus scoffed, pressing his thumbs down. “It won’t.”

I press down and lean down simultaneously, shaking my head as I laugh, the feeling of my physical position never leaving, only growing as I mocked him further. I knew how it felt now, to toy with the one who peaked your interest so high. No wonder he enjoyed this.

“If I hold such value, such power over you, Coriolanus, it’s bound to melt. Snow cannot be on top if something is to compromise it, hm? Must I remind you of what occurred the last time you allowed someone to hold power over you?”

I couldn’t believe I brought her up. Yes, I knew of Lucy Gray, just as many of us musicians did. I never knew her personally, but I was aware of what lengths Coriolanus went to erase her from existence for his political, social, and mental gain. Is that part of the reason I feared walking away, even if I wanted to? Yes. But I knew he wouldn’t kill me, or send me off. He’d have no one if not. 

“Shut the hell up.” He moved his hands to hold me by my face. “This is different.”

“In some ways, yes.” I feel his hands move my hair behind my ears, his eyes locked against mine. He was angry, but he was allowing me to speak further, so not angry enough. “In other ways, it is quite the same.”

“Damn you, woman. Experiencing quite the power trip, aren’t you? Why don’t you do so after we fuck?” He growled, one of his hands reaching past my face to grab the end of my ponytail, yanking it down to cause my head to rise up, my back arching in the process, gasping as he thrusts upward, sending volts through my stomach. 

Don’t lose control, [Y/N]. Don’t you dare let him fuck you into submission.

“If you think for just a second that this is not changing things for you, then you are a fool.” I spit, opening my eyes to stare down at him, fighting his grip against my ponytail. I feel his other hand move from my face to my jaw, holding my face down to face his own. “You can’t do this without me. You spend far too much time with a mistress to disregard her, and you fucking know it. That’s what makes you sick.”

All he could do was curse under his breath, his grip on my hair, and on my face, loosening. Was he admitting defeat? Was he finally showcasing some sort of disadvantage? 

I leaned down to pull him into a sloppy kiss, my tongue sliding into his mouth as he lightly pressed his own against mine, yet allowing me to hold the dominance. The feeling was strange but enjoyable, knowing that I was able to hold mental and physical assertion over such a man. 

I could feel him grunt underneath me, his body limp as I fucked his restlessly, until I could feel myself tighten against him, and his cock pump into me, lightly thrusting upwards to ride out the high that he pushed into me. I watched his face as I held his neck still, his eyes closed and his mouth agape while he came. His cheeks were flushed. I knew he felt defeated, and I knew in some way, he enjoyed it. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

I slowly got off of him, feeling his cum lightly stick between my thighs while I motioned to lay aside him. My hands were warm from their grip, and I rested one against his cheek, turning him to face me. 

“Do you know what makes snow melt?” He asks through a horse tone, looking up to me. He knew I wouldn’t give him the answer he was looking for, so he watched me silently shake my head. He reached forward to hold my own cheek, pulling me down to his lips, but not for a kiss. He let me hover, before he spoke quietly, his hot breath against me. 

“Fire.”

[coffeeshades]

credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART VI

summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who can't get their shit together.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 4.2k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). mentions of sex. angst!!! cursing, age gap, mentions of drugs and alcohol. asshole!pedro maybe? no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: hi everyone, happy reading <3

masterlist!

October 19, 2019

Newport, Rhode Island

The crisp autumn air greeted you as you arrived at your friend Jennifer's wedding. The historic estate, bathed in the soft golden light of the setting sun, seemed like the perfect backdrop for such a special occasion. The large, opulent estate, adorned with seasonal flowers and fairy lights, buzzed with the excited chatter of guests.

Daniel was by your side, his arm casually draped around your waist. You’d opted for a classic blue dress, elegant and understated, which seemed to enhance the sparkle in your eyes and the quiet grace in your movements.

Jennifer greeted you with her usual infectious energy and a hug that felt like a balm to your nerves. “You two! I’m so glad you could make it!”

The ceremony had taken place 40 minutes earlier, outside in the estate's lush garden, under a canopy of white roses and twinkling lights. And now the reception was in full swing. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses filled the air.

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't have missed your wedding for the world," you replied, returning her hug. "Everything looked amazing, and you were absolutely stunning in that dress."

She beamed at the compliment, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

"Congratulations, Jen," Daniel said, raising his champagne flute. You looked at him, his brown eyes shining with genuine happiness, and smiled. Jennifer took notice of this and grabbed your hands in hers, squeezing them tightly. "Thank you both so much for being here," she said, her voice filled with emotion. "And who knows, maybe you two will be next to tie the knot."

Both of you laughed at the suggestion, but you couldn't help but feel a warm flutter in your chest at the thought. A strange warm flutter, something you haven't felt in months; sadness, perhaps?

No, it couldn't be.

For the past six months, everything with Daniel has been nothing but perfect. He's been the perfect boyfriend: supportive, caring, and always there for you. You couldn't imagine being with anyone else right now. So the idea of marrying him didn't seem too far-fetched at all. On the contrary, it made perfect sense. So this feeling of unexplicable warmth and ache must've been nerves and excitement, nothing else.

The time for your speech arrived, and you took a deep breath as you were handed a microphone. The room fell into a respectful hush, the chatter and clinking glasses fading as the guests turned their attention to you. You glanced around, taking in the elegant decor and the sea of faces, many of whom you recognized. The soft, golden light from the chandeliers cast a warm glow over the gathering, and the atmosphere was filled with anticipation.

You adjusted the microphone slightly, feeling its cool metal against your fingers. You didn’t feel nervous; instead, a calm confidence washed over you. After all, you were good at this—pretending you were the best.

“Good evening, everyone,” you began, your voice clear and steady as you introduced yourself. "I have the distinct honor of speaking about our beautiful bride tonight.”

The crowd responded with polite applause, and you smiled, taking a moment to find your rhythm. "Jennifer," you continued, “where do I even begin? From the moment I met her, I knew

she was someone extraordinary. It’s not just her infectious laugh or her incredible talent that stands out, but her heart. Jennifer has a way of making everyone feel like they’re the most important person in the room.”

A soft chuckle rippled through the audience, and you saw Jennifer’s cheeks flush with a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure. You continued, weaving in anecdotes about your friendship, each story punctuated by a touch of humor and warmth. Laughter filled the room, and you finally caught Pedro’s eye momentarily. He was sitting at a table near the front, his gaze soft and attentive. The first time you saw him that night was when you arrived at the ceremony; he was already deep in conversation with someone.

You couldn’t quite read his expression, but you felt a flicker of emotion as your eyes met for a brief second. As you moved towards the more emotional part of your speech, your tone grew softer and more reflective.

The room cheered and applauded as you wrapped up your speech. Jennifer got to her feet and walked to the front, her eyes glistening with emotion. You stepped down feeling a sense of relief. The reception continued with lively music and dancing. You and Daniel enjoyed the evening, laughing and dancing with the other guests.

The joy of the celebration was palpable, but it couldn’t completely erase the tension you felt every time you glanced in Pedro’s direction. Exhausted from all the drinking and dancing and seeking a brief reprieve, you excused yourself to the bathroom.

"I'll be right back."

You give Daniel a quick kiss, his hands coming to rest on your waist.

"All good, baby?"

"Marvelous," you reply before slipping away from the crowd and into the quiet sanctuary of the bathroom. Its marble countertops gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, the delicate scent of lavender soap mingling with the faint aroma of champagne and floral bouquets from the reception. You stood by the sink, staring at your reflection in the polished mirror, your fingers tracing the edge of the elegant marble as if it could ground you amidst the chaos of your emotions. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the flutter of unexpected anxiety in your chest.

The silence was briefly interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

Well, so much for peace and quiet.

The door creaked open, and Pedro walked in with his usual confident stride, albeit slightly unsteady. His suit was pristine, the dark fabric impeccably tailored to his frame. Yet the disheveled state of his dark hair and the slightly rumpled collar of his shirt betrayed a night of indulgence. The contrast between his polished exterior and the evident effects of alcohol made him appear both charming and vulnerable.

Pedro’s eyes softened as they settled on you, taking in the sight of your dress—a stunning creation that clung to your form in all the right places, the deep hue accentuating your features. He stepped closer, his gaze lingering with an almost palpable mix of admiration and regret.

"I was looking for you," he said, his voice low and filled with a hint of longing. "And I saw you come in."

He locked the door behind him, the click echoing in the quiet room.

“You look incredible,” he said, his voice carrying the telltale tone of someone who had enjoyed a few too many drinks. “But then again, you always do.”

The compliment hung in the air, unacknowledged. You kept your focus on the sink, pretending to be absorbed in the intricate patterns of the marble. Pedro’s gaze remained fixed on you, sensing your reluctance and frustration.

“Not going to say anything? I come all the way in here to tell you how amazing you look, and you give me nothing,” he said, his tone a fragile blend of irritation and desperation. The words cut through the silence, revealing the cracks in his façade.

You remained silent, and the quiet only seemed to fuel his frustration. Pedro leaned against the wall, his posture both defiant and defeated. His eyes were filled with a mix of sadness and exasperation, reflecting the weight of the emotions he struggled to keep in check.

“What’s with the silent treatment?” he pressed, his voice barely more than a whisper. “We used to talk about everything, and now you can’t even respond to a compliment?”

The tension crackled like electricity in the confined space. Pedro’s dark and aching eyes betrayed the vulnerability he usually masked with confidence. He took a step closer, closing the distance between you with a sense of urgency.

“Is this how it’s going to be, then?” he asked, his voice a tremulous echo of desperation. “We’re just going to ignore each other until it all blows over again? pretending like everything’s fine when it’s clearly not.”

His proximity made your heart race; the warmth of his body and the intensity of his stare were both electrifying and suffocating. The room, once a refuge of privacy, now felt like a cage closing in on you, amplifying the emotional turmoil swirling between you.

"If I remember correctly, we already had this conversation," you finally said, your voice steady. “You come and go as you please, and then you act like nothing happened. How am I supposed to handle that?”

Pedro’s eyes filled with regret as he reached out, his fingers trembling slightly as they touched your arm.

"I’ve been trying to move on, like you told me to, but it’s impossible when you’re always on my mind." His touch was hesitant, the warmth of his hand a stark contrast to the coldness you felt inside.

As the minutes ticked by, the two of you remained locked in this intense, silent exchange. The muffled sounds of the party outside felt like distant echoes, drowned out by the gravity of your shared history and unresolved feelings.

Pedro’s eyes, dark and glassy from the alcohol, bore into yours as he closed the distance, his body pressing lightly against you. You could feel the heat of him, the scent of whiskey clinging to his breath, mixing with something familiar—him. Your pulse quickened, the rush of emotions swirling uncontrollably as you met his gaze.

“You’re drunk,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, but it came out softer than you intended. The barrier you’d built so carefully maintained was beginning to crumble under the weight of his presence.

“And you’re beautiful,” he murmured, his breath grazing your skin. The way he said it, with that low, gravelly voice, made your heart stutter.

You wanted to hold onto the anger, to remind yourself of the hurtful words exchanged and the distance you had fought so hard to maintain, but his nearness was intoxicating. The warmth of his body, the brush of his fingertips against your arm—it was all too much. His scent, the alcohol, his desperation—it clouded your judgment, making everything hazy.

His gaze flickered over your face, searching for something you couldn’t name. “Do you love him?” he asked, and though he didn’t say Daniel’s name, the weight of the question nearly took your breath away.

You froze, refusing to answer, instead turning your head to the side, your eyes seeking solace in the marble counter or the door—anywhere but him. But Pedro, in his drunken determination, wouldn’t let you escape so easily. He gently tilted your chin up, forcing you to face him, his fingers warm against your skin.

“Look at me,” he whispered, the words barely a breath. “Tell me.”

Your eyes, betraying you, flickered to his, and in that moment, you felt everything unraveling. The years of history, the on-and-off again, the unsaid things—they crashed over you, threatening to drown you in their intensity.

“Pedro,” you managed, your voice shaky. “You’re drunk. Stop it.”

He ignored you, his eyes locked on yours, filled with a rawness that made it impossible to turn away. “No,” he insisted, his voice low and thick with emotion. “Answer me.”

The weight of his words pressed against your chest, squeezing the air from your lungs. You could feel your eyes starting to burn, the overwhelming need to cry pushing at the edges of your control. His touch was maddening—pulling memories to the surface that you’d spent so long trying to bury.

“Tell me, princesa,” he said, his voice barely a whisper now, the nickname slipping from his lips like a plea. “Do you love him?”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldn’t speak. The question lingered between you, suffocating the space; the answer too painful, too heavy to voice.

Finally, the words came, slow and trembling, barely louder than a breath. “I don’t know.”

The admission hung in the air, fragile and heartbreaking, and you could see the way it struck him, deep and unguarded. For a brief second, his hand dropped from your chin, and the look in his eyes—the sorrow, the regret—cut through you like a blade.

But still, he didn’t move. Neither did you. The gravity of everything left unsaid, everything unresolved, weighed too heavily, pulling you both into a moment from which there was no easy escape.

“Would it change something if I said no?” you asked, your voice sharp, cutting through the charged air between you both. The words were cold, edged with bitterness, the hurt simmering just beneath the surface.

Pedro’s reaction was instant—he grabbed your face with both hands, rougher than usual, though not enough to hurt. You didn't feel afraid; he could never make you feel as such. His grip was desperate, trembling slightly with the weight of everything unspoken. His eyes, though hazy from alcohol, searched yours with an intensity that made your heart pound harder. He was trying to find an answer, a way to salvage something, but you weren’t done.

“Would it change something, Pedro?” you pressed, your voice rising as you spit out the words like venom. “Would it? If I said no, would that make all of this—" you motioned between the two of you, your chest tight “—would it make this easier? What if I told you I don't love him? What if I told you I still think about you all the time? What would you do?”

Each question hit him like a physical blow, and you could see the pain etching itself deeper into his face with every 'what if' you hurled at him. He didn’t respond, but his grip on your face tightened, as if he could somehow hold onto you through the force of his hands alone. His silence only fueled your fire.

“No,” you finally said, your voice trembling but firm, “it wouldn’t matter because you're too late, Pedro. It wouldn’t change a damn thing. You think saying something now and asking me these questions will make up for all the times you left, all the times you didn’t say anything? We’re broken. And it’s too late to fix it.”

Pedro's breath was uneven as his fingers dug into your skin, not with malice but with a desperation you hadn’t seen in him before. His face crumpled for a brief second, his lips parting like he was about to say something—something big, something important—and you stopped him.

"Don't. Don't say it, not now," you whispered. "It wouldn't change a thing, so don't."

You were suffocating under him, until a sudden banging on the door jolted you both out of the moment. A voice called from the other side, followed by impatient knocks.

“Let me go,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. The words were for more than just this moment. You needed him to release you—not just physically. But in that bathroom, right then, it felt like the only thing you could control.

Pedro didn’t move at first, his hands still gripping your face as if he couldn’t quite let go. His thumbs grazed your skin, and for a moment you saw the flash of something behind his eyes—fear, maybe, or regret—but then it passed, replaced by the same helplessness that had filled the space between you for years.

“Let me go, please,” you said again, softer this time, but it felt like more than a request. It was the final thread holding the two of you together, and cutting it felt both terrifying and necessary.

His hands slowly dropped, the warmth of his touch leaving your skin cold in an instant. It felt appropriate, almost painfully so, that this was how it ended—here, in a bathroom at a wedding, with a banging door and the realization that no matter how much you wanted it, there was no going back.

You turned away, your body trembling, unsure if it was from the confrontation or the emotional weight pressing down on your chest. The moment felt fragile, like something you needed to step away from before it shattered completely.

You weren’t sure if it was the right decision, but in that moment, it felt like the only one you could make because someone else was involved now, and the consequences of continuing down that path were too great to bear.

November 10, 2019

Los Angeles, CA

Pedro’s day had started much like any other, but there was an added weight hanging over him, like the prelude to something significant. He woke up to the sound of light rain tapping against his windows, a rare occurrence in LA and a subtle reminder of the calm before the real storm—the Mandalorian premiere later that evening. He spent some time with his nephews, who had flown in for the event. They were excited about the premiere, already talking about how "cool" their uncle looked as The Mandalorian—though he couldn't show them much yet.

The early afternoon was a blur of preparations: phone calls from his team, final wardrobe checks, and trying to keep his mind from wandering too much into places he didn’t want it to go. Places that involved you.

He chose a classic black suit with a beige shirt, effortlessly tailored—the kind of look that made him feel composed, even when he wasn’t. The nerves were creeping in.

As the car pulled up to the red carpet, Pedro felt the energy shift—flashes of cameras, the buzz of fans, all converging in one chaotic, yet intoxicating, atmosphere. His nephews were with him, their excitement helping ground him. For them, this was magic; for him, it was part of the job. But he couldn’t deny the thrill of it—the anticipation of seeing the first episode on the big screen with an audience.

And then, there you were.

You stepped onto the carpet in a buttery yellow dress that made you look radiant—warm, untouchable, yet familiar in a way that left him breathless for a moment. The dress was soft and flowing, but the way you held yourself was sharp, like you had an invisible armor. He could tell you avoided looking at him at first, but when the group photos began, there was no choice but to stand next to each other, cameras clicking, people cheering. You posed for pictures together, smiling for the crowd, playing your parts.

Pedro could feel the space between you—so small, yet it felt like a chasm. The cameras didn’t catch that. He stole a glance at you as you laughed at something the director said during the photo op. You looked happy, at ease. He wondered if you were.

Inside the theater, the atmosphere was electric. The cast and crew gathered on stage for a brief panel discussion before the screening. Dave talked about the legacy of Star Wars and Jon about the vision of the show. Pedro listened, nodding along, just grateful for the opportunity to be a part of it all.

When it was your turn to speak, he watched you, waiting, unsure of what you’d say. Your voice was steady, confident as always, but then your words shifted.

You spoke about him.

“Pedro is... well, he’s a scene-stealer, as you’ve all seen from the trailers,” you joked, earning laughter from the audience. “But seriously, finally working with him has been one of the highlights of my career. His dedication, his talent, his kindness—it’s inspiring. I’m lucky to share this with him, and I hope we get to keep doing this for a long time.”

Pedro’s heart swelled at your words. He wasn’t sure if you meant it or if you were just saying what the audience wanted to hear. But for that moment, he let himself believe it was the truth. That you did still care, even in this small, professional way. But then again, this was your new normal—co-workers, partners on-screen, and nothing more.

December 25th, 2019

Perth, Australia

Christmas in Perth was like stepping into another world, a sun-drenched, easy-going atmosphere that felt miles away from the traditional snowy scenes of the holiday season. Daniel’s family welcomed you with open arms, not that you were expecting any less. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, fresh seafood, and eucalyptus from the trees outside, creating a kind of domestic vibe that you hadn't realized you craved until you were in the middle of it.

Daniel was relaxed too—his racing season over for a few weeks now; he was finally at ease, the stress that usually clung to him gone. You spent every moment together, just soaking in each other’s presence. He even traveled with you to your last film shoot, attending your workdays like you had attended some of his races, a seamless give-and-take in your relationship that made everything feel, well, easy.

It was bliss.

On Christmas Day, after the exchange of gifts and an extravagant lunch, you received a call from your mom. You sat on the veranda, watching the cicadas buzz lazily in the midday heat, and spoke to her about how things were. She asked about Daniel, about his family, and about how you were doing with everything. You promised to visit soon, reassuring her that you were fine, happy, even.

But later, as you scrolled through Instagram, something pulled you out of that happiness, if only for a moment. A post from the Rise of Skywalker premiere a couple of days ago, you assume—a photo of Pedro and Oscar standing side by side, their smiles broad, their laughter captured perfectly in the shot. Pedro, inexplicably, was wearing... pajamas? Or maybe a robe? It was such a bizarre choice, so utterly him, that you couldn’t help but laugh aloud at the sight of it. The sound surprised you, breaking through the blanket of serenity you'd wrapped around yourself. But the pang that followed was sharper, unexpected. You scrolled past quickly, trying to ignore the ache it left behind.

•••

As New Year's Eve approached, the festive atmosphere grew louder, more carefree. You found yourself caught in the whirl of it all—the parties, the lights, the endless laughter—but always with Daniel by your side. On the night itself, amidst the dancing and celebrations with his family and friends, you received a call from Oscar and his wife. They both wished you a happy new year, their voices warm and full of affection. You exchanged pleasantries, caught up for a few minutes, until Oscar, in his usual thoughtful way, asked gently, “Have you heard from him?”

You paused, knowing exactly who he meant. “No, not really,” you said, your voice steady, but there was a crack in it that even you could hear. “But it’s okay.”

Oscar hesitated on the other end. You could feel his discomfort, the weight of watching two people he cared about drift into something neither of you could quite name. “I’m sorry,” you told him quietly, not sure why. Your words were soft, almost lost in the noise of the party around you.

“It’s no one’s fault,” he said, trying to comfort you, but it didn’t land quite right. There was a shared understanding, though—one that didn’t need words.

The conversation ended soon after, and you returned to the celebration, but it felt like a weight had settled back onto your chest, one that hadn't fully disappeared, no matter how much love surrounded you.

Later that night, as the party raged on downstairs, you and Daniel snuck away to your room, laughing softly as you closed the door behind you. The moment between you shifted quickly, from playful to urgent, as his hands found your skin and yours found his. It was quick, hot sex—an eruption of need in the midst of celebration. Afterward, he whispered, “Happy New Year,” his breath warm against your ear, and you nestled into his arms, letting yourself be wrapped in the comfort of his embrace.

But as you lay there, the world outside falling quiet, that familiar ache gnawed at your chest again. No matter how happy you seemed or how full your life felt, the longing never fully disappeared. It clung to you, a ghost from the past, waiting in the shadows for moments like this to remind you it was still there.

You wished, as you lay in Daniel’s arms, for the ache to go away with the old year. To leave behind all that hurt, all the unanswered questions, and move forward into the new year with nothing but joy.

But deep down, you knew that wasn’t how it worked.

a/n: a like, reblog or comment, anything is very much appreciated <3 next part coming very soon!!

[crumbledcastle28]

Joel Miller: Birthday Boy

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (afab; she/her)

Excerpt: He was so golden, so smooth yet smothered in moles that you’d kissed and purple marks from your teeth. So perfect. So yours. Your lips parted, craving the taste of his skin once again. You recalled his statement from the night before.

“Wake me up with your mouth, baby,” he whispered into your hair. “Drown me with it.”

How could you say no to the birthday boy?

You set both coffee mugs on the side table, rubbing your hands together to keep the leftover heat from the steam alive, and slid your way back to the position you were in before. His breaths remained steady and a big part of you just wanted to let him sleep. He never got enough, with money and providing for Sarah always on his mind, and maybe that would be the best thing for him.

Drown me with it.

Maybe not.

Warnings: SMUTTT, oral sex female receiving, joel has a giving kink @ me, mentions of Sarah (RIP), allusions to the end of the world.

A/N: So much Joel Miller content, I don’t know what to do with myself. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier. I hope you enjoy.

2.3k

If you’d like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3

Pedro Masterlist

(GIF credit to owner, please let me know if it’s yours)

You awoke to the taste of him still on your tongue—it was practically still drooling down your chin—and the warmth of his naked body draped across your frame. Your eyes were puffed and cloudy and your hips felt yellowed and sore, giving you flashbacks of the night previous.

Open your pretty mouth, darlin’.

Fuckin’ shit, this wet already?

Easy now, we got all night.

Ride me till I’m numb, baby.

You closed your eyes in bliss and whispered to yourself in a sing-song tone, “happy birthday.”

His small snores and hot breaths against your earlobe showed he didn’t hear you. He wasn’t meant to. He was meant to stay asleep—deep asleep—until you decided otherwise.

You were tempted to stay there, in his arms, forever. With his woody-cinnamon scent wrapped around you, his permanent scowl softened into an almost-smile, and his body slack against your own. This was Joel Miller—not the one lessened to a struggling carpenter, a single parent, or a lonely man—this was the whole Joel Miller. The true Joel Miller.

This was your Joel Miller.

You smiled at him, letting your eyes serpentine and circle around him for as long as you could, before pressing the softest kiss to his cheekbone. You barely pressed your lips to the hairs that coated it. You hummed to yourself, unable to prevent that sweet sound of pleasure whenever your lips touched his skin, and slowly started scooting your way out from underneath him. Your body screamed at you to stop, stay awhile, never leave, but you persevered.

He was so out he barely twitched.

You laughed to yourself as you found your footing on the cold, grey-carpeted floor. Your fingers twitched to comb through his hair, map out his body, or reach downwards to the sweet spot of your own at what a vision he was, but you somehow managed to continue on.

A midnight-black Henley of his had been discarded at some point in the night, likely thrown across the room by your own hands, and you threw it over your bare body as well as fresh underwear before making your way down to the kitchen. Joel always joked how your stealth was a wasted talent of yours.

I know who I’d ally with in an apocalypse, Tommy would joke.

Idiots.

You made your way to Joel’s most prized possession—his coffee-maker—and threw in his favorite brand of beans. Despite drinking plain black, he did have a taste for higher quality arabica. He would have never bought it for himself.

“Present number one,” you whispered to yourself as the smooth steaming liquid made its way into his rough coffee cup. It was old, chipped, and on the verge of shattering, yet still his favorite. You wondered what that said about him.

You set his aside and made a small cup of your own—adding plenty of cream and sugar thank you very much—and made your way back up the stairs, taking little sips as you walked. Sarah’s room was still locked shut and it was still plenty dark outside.

Good.

Your toes pressed onto the carpet again as you walked back to your side of the bed, and Joel had not moved an inch. His lower half remained swaddled in blankets, while his upper half…

…fuck.

He was so golden, so smooth yet smothered in moles that you’d kissed and purple marks from your teeth. So perfect. So yours. Your lips parted, craving the taste of his skin once again. You recalled his statement from the night before.

“Wake me up with your mouth, baby,” he whispered into your hair. “Drown me with it.”

How could you say no to the birthday boy?

You set both coffee mugs on the side table, rubbing your hands together to keep the leftover heat from the steam alive, and slid your way back to the position you were in before. His breaths remained steady and a big part of you just wanted to let him sleep. He never got enough, with money and providing for Sarah always on his mind, and maybe that would be the best thing for him.

Drown me with it.

Maybe not.

You leaned forward and breathed in the skin on his neck before placing a faint kiss on his pulse. You then moved to his adam’s apple, kissing up to his chin. He stirred a bit, unconsciously pulling you closer to him, and you kissed around his mouth. You pressed one more kiss to his hairline, his hair soft and ruffled from your own fingers, before he whispered incoherently.

“Hm?” you asked, bringing your mouth inches away from his.

“I said—” but he was interrupted by your lips on his.

You parted them quickly and deeper the kiss, tugging him close to you with your hand on the back of his head, and his large hands molded against your hips. You teased him with your tongue just enough for him to tilt your head back for more, but you pulled away.

“Happy birthday.”

He grinned and worked his right hand up to your face, framing it. “Thank you.”

You smiled brightly before sitting up completely and grabbing both coffees. He sat up with you, making himself comfortable leaning his back on the bed frame, and took the mug you handed him eagerly. He immediately sipped it and hummed, closing his eyes.

“You didn’t,” he whispered, his accent in full force.

“I did,” you whispered back, and sipped your own.

“These beans are over ten bucks.”

“I know,” you responded, and took another long sip. “This is present number one.”

“Number one?” he questioned with a laugh. “How many are there?”

You only smiled back at him, enjoying his questioning look.

The two of you proceeded to sip your coffee in silence—enjoying the slowly rising sun, the birds chirping, the wind blowing, and the creaks and groans of the house. Joel took his time, drinking his coffee slowly instead of chugging it as he ran from the house, and he enjoyed every sip.

Finally, he broke the ice. “Darlin’, since when did you have clothes on?”

You laughed enough to make your eyes crease before saying, “Since I went to make you coffee this morning with the risk of Sarah coming downstairs to use the bathroom.”

He chuckled and took one last sip, finishing his cup completely, and you took the cup from him to place it on the nightstand. He mumbled a quick “thank you” before you did, a grateful look in his eye, but once you turned back around, the chocolate in his caramel eyes had completely taken over. The rising sun illuminated their darkness that much more.

“I don’t think you’re understandin’ me,” he whispered, and the look in his eye suddenly made sense. Arousal rolled over you like a wave, and a smirk made its way to your face.

“Am I not?” you questioned, lowing your voice exactly how he liked it. The ink in his eyes was beginning to drip down to his body language—tense, itching to touch and unravel you.

“You’re not,” he said, and leaned closer, close enough for you to feel his hot breath on the skin of your collarbone. “I want them off.”

He kissed your collarbone and neck, reaching his hand underneath his own fabric to meet his calloused hand with your soft skin, and you smiled. “It’s your birthday. Take what you want.”

You didn’t have time to think before his mouth met your own.

He quickly took the mug still in your hands and leaned over you—mouth still claiming yours—to set it on the nightstand. He then took the opportunity pin you fully to the bed. His tongue fully mapped your mouth now and you whined at his taste—black coffee, morning, and the residue of you. He likely tasted the same thing on you.

“Gotta stay quiet,” he whispered, slipping your shirt completely off. “I do have a model of responsibility to set.”

You laughed into his mouth. “How’s that going?”

He laughed with you and kissed you again, feeling you everywhere. You took the chance to feel him up too, dragging your nails up his chest and over his back, through his hair, and across his scruffed face. His facial hair always tickled at the very least and burned at the very most. This morning, your face felt a bit of both.

He was kissing you so good and your head was so lost in all of it that you almost missed when he mumbled, “Let me try somethin’.”

He pulled away completely to look at you. Your eyes were blissed out, your lips were tingling, and your brain was absolutely reeling. He smiled down at you, likely because of how out of it you looked. “What?”

“Let me try somethin’,” he mumbled again, kissing down your face and to your chest. You closed your eyes and breathed erotically at the feeling of him all over you. Everywhere. “I’ve gotta eat somethin’ after my coffee, don’t I?”

Your eyes widened to saucers. You sat up, putting your weight on your elbows, and met his eyes. He was now hovering over your lower stomach. “Joel, you don’t have—”

“It’s my birthday,” he whispered with a kiss to your midsection. “I want this. I’ve wanted this for a while.”

You and Joel had been together for a while, longer than a while, and the sincerity in your feelings for one another had only grown with each passing day. You had started spending nights at his house, he had started spending nights at yours, and you had met his daughter a few months ago. You had even started spending weekends with Joel and Sarah as a way to get to know her better and test the dynamic which, so far, had been smooth sailing. She had obviously enjoyed your company, even asking you to stay at their house throughout the week. You and Joel were becoming serious, very serious.

And yet, he hadn’t done this for you before. He had offered it before, but you had always wanted to suck him off instead. It seemed that today, he knew what he wanted.

Your pants started getting more infrequent with even the thought of him doing this to you. You wanted it badly. His cocky grin showed you that he knew that too.

“Don’t you want me to take care of you today?”

His grin only expanded. “Do you seriously think I won’t come from this?”

And with that, he pulled your underwear down your body, and began his feast with a hunger. With one lick from his tongue, your goal of keeping eye contact with him shattered, and a long groan escaped from your mouth.

“Quiet baby,” he whispered against your mound. “Quiet,” and he continued.

He mapped you like an expert—memorizing exactly where you whined, honing in on those areas just long enough to make you shake, and just before you found your release, he would move on.

“Fuck you,” you whispered after the second time he did this, sweat dripping down your face and breasts. He chuckled into you and pulled one of your hands off his head to wrap it in his own, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Patience baby. It’s my birthday.”

He continued squeezing your hand as he worked, and you continued biting your tongue until you nearly drew blood.

This was heaven. Heaven on earth. Eternity between your legs. The world could end tomorrow and you wouldn’t care, not after this. Not after him.

It was when he nudged your clit with his nose just so that you felt that familiar ball of flame inside of you begin to oxidize, expanding from a lick of flame to a fire.

“I’m so close Joel please.”

“Jesus woman,” he replied, the noises coming from his mouth on you borderline obscene. “Sound so pretty.”

He kept at it, nudging your clit with his nose and licking you where you needed. It was then that you noticed a small rock to your bed and a consistent creak. You used the last of your strength to pull yourself up, only to be met with Joel’s now hazel eyes, and the lower half of his body fucking hard into the bed.

“Told you I’d come from this,” he whispered, and kissed your clit.

Your fire became unstoppable, and you let yourself fully release into his mouth.

He didn’t stop. Not after you gave him one more.

Finally, he parted from you with one final kiss, and you didn’t even realize your eyes had fallen shut until he kissed both of them. They fluttered open to be met with his smiling face.

He looked so damn happy.

You brought his mouth to yours, tasting yourself mixed with his morning coffee, but he pulled away quickly.

“How was I?”

Your face broke out into a smile so big your teeth showed. “Perfect.”

He pecked your nose. “Good.”

He laid down on his back next to you, panting and exhausted, and you immediately cuddled into him. You threw your leg over his own only to be met with something…sticky?

He came. Purely from sucking you off.

“What’s this, the third time I’ve told ya?” he whispered into your hair. “I did this for you, but I wanted it just as badly.”

You couldn’t help the shock in your voice when he hugged you close. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

“I love you Y/N,” he said. “That’s all that matters.”

“I love you Joel,” you whispered back weakly, feeling the exhaustion envelop you once again. “Happy Birthday.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, likely grateful that you had woken him up early enough for him to go back to sleep. You followed him in your failure to sleep, but just before you reached unconsciousness, you felt yourself whisper.

“Don’t think I’m not paying you back for this.”

Tag list: (I apologize if your tag is not present/not working. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged!)

@leahkenobi @aninnai​ @untitledarea​ @avengersfan25​

[ofmdrecaps]

08/28-29/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; David Jenkins; Rhys Darby; Ruibo Qian; Vico Ortiz; Ruibo Qian; Nat Torres; Eliza Cossio; Madeleine Sami; Damien Gerard; Cortney Andersen; Call To Action: Yahoo Survey; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Today's Taika;

== Recap Status ==

Hey friends, my dad finally had surgery and he's alive but there are complications. I've compiled what I can for these two days, idk how useful it is. I'll try to get more done tonight since so much happened today but I'm not sure how far I'll get. Sending hugs and good vibes <3 Thank you for all the kind words and folks checking on me, sorry I'm slow to respond, been a lot the last few days. Pardon me for any mistakes, please feel free to let me know if there are.

== David Jenkins ==

David's mom Mary was just named US Open Employee of the Month! Congrats Mrs. Jenkins!

David retweeted this old post by Liam Gallagher <3

David Jenkins twitter

== Rhys Darby ==

= Cryptid Factor: Live in Edinburgh =

Rhys and the boys have posted a a partial video of the first night of The Cryptid Factor Live <3 Check it out on their patreon.

Source: The Cryptid Factor Patreon

The episode of Expedition X with Rhys is out on Discovery!

Source: Phil Torres Instagram

Rhys is being the best band manager Murray and promoting his son Finn's band! You can follow them on Youtube!

Source: Rhys Darby's Twitter

Yes, Rhys Darby has worn a kilt, take that information and do with it what you will <3

Source: @wastingyourgum's Twitter

== Ruibo Qian ==

The Pirate Queen is playing around with filters and having a good time <3

Source: Ruibo's Instagram Stories

== Vico Ortiz ==

Vico made a shoutout to our beloved Samson <3

Source: Vico Ortiz Instagram

== Minnie Driver ==

New hair cut for our Anne Bonny!

Source: Minnie Driver's Instagram

== Madeleine Sami ==

More Double Parked BTS/promos from Mads and Crew!

Source: Madeleine Sami's Instagram

== Nat Torres ==

I forgot about the other dogs that the cast posted for International Dog Day back on the 26th! Here's one of our awesome writers, Nat Torres' beautiful pup <3

Source: Nat Torres Instagram Stories

== Eliza Cossio ==

Another one of our writers we don't see out and about too often has made an appearance! We miss you Eliza! So good to see you having fun!

Source: Elisa Cossio's Instagram

== Courtney Andersen ==

Happy International Dog day from Courtney, The Revenge's rope maker and his pup! (David popped in to wish the Prince well too!)

Source: Courtney Andersens Instagram

== Damien Gerard ==

Happy Acting Anniversary to our dear Father Teach! <3

Source: Damien Gerard's Twitter

== Call to Action: Yahoo Feedback ==

Thank you to our friend Lucy over on twitter for bringing this to everyone's attention!

Source: Lucy on Twitter

== Love Notes ==

Sorry I don't have a lot in me right now to get the fan spotlight section together lovelies. I hope you're doing so well and staying healthy. I think about you all all the time. I found a few things that made me smile/had some good vibes, sending them along to you. Take care lovelies <3

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== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==

Smiles and chats for our guys tonight. Gifs courtesy of the so very talented @eddie-redcliffe and @celluloidbroomcloset

[rey-jake-therapist]

If one of the talented gif makers and Saurondriel shippers made a manip including the lyrics of David Bowie's song 'Heroes', it would make me soooo happy.... please, pretty please! 🙏🏼

"I, I would be king

And you, you would be my queen...."

[fairy-writes]

Hello!! How are you??

If you take requests, could you please do the Tokyo Ghoul boys reacting to reader being a famous artist who is "hidden" (like: has naver shown their face in public, uses a different name, etc)?

MASKED CREATIVITY

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Tokyo Ghoul

Pairing(s): Kaneki Ken x Reader

Uta x Reader

Kirishima Ayato x Reader

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader

Notes: I only do three characters max for headcanons! So, if you’d like more, send in a request for part two!

Also, Ayato is :re age in this!

Also, also, I interpreted “artist” pretty differently for each person :)

__________________________________________________________________________

Kaneki Ken: Painter

Kaneki initially meets you when going to one of your art galleries! 

You open a brand new exhibit in a famous bookstore, and he goes because, coincidentally, it’s one of the only stores carrying a copy of Takatsuki Sen’s latest books.

He spots you immediately in the crowd, recognizing your mask as one of Uta’s. 

It’s a beautiful full-faced masquerade mask, seemingly made of porcelain or ceramic, and has colorful plumes of feathers obscuring your head from view. 

All he can see are your twinkling eyes as you excitedly talk about your work. 

Admittedly, he’s VERY nervous as he approaches you with his desired book in hand to compliment your latest piece. 

You turn to face him, and he offers what he hopes is a kind smile.

“You have some amazing work here.” He says and can tell by how your eyes crinkle that you’re smiling.

“Thank you.” Is all you say, and before he can stop himself, he blurts: “Is your mask one of Uta’s?” 

You freeze and look at him with wide eyes before nodding once. 

Luckily, no one has heard your conversation yet. 

He smiles again, “I’m familiar with his work. He made a mask of mine as well.” He explains, and you relax. 

“He’s quite the mask monger, isn’t he?” You say, almost breathless, as if you had anticipated something… else.

So Kaneki utilizes his senses and takes a discreet sniff. 

There it is… You’re a ghoul!

The two of you chat for a bit before he heads out, but not before shaking your hand and congratulating you again on your work. 

He stares at the card you slipped into his hand, your name and number scrawled on it in neat letters.

He hopes he can get to know you… something about you is incredibly fascinating. 

Uta: Musician

So you and Uta have been together for a while, and he only now finds out about your talent and fame as a musician. 

He finds out on accident, really, by coincidentally going to one of your shows. 

He’s with Itori and Yomo, lounging in a ghoul-friendly jazz bar and nursing a glass of blood wine when you come on stage. 

You’re carrying your prized saxophone and wearing the mask he made for you. 

It isn’t a full-faced mask. Instead, it only obscures the upper half of your face in lace and feathers. 

You scan the crowd, spot him, and your eyes widen briefly in surprise.

But you recover quickly and smile, bow slightly at the waist, and begin to play. 

And Uta is blown away by your talent. 

Kirishima Ayato: Poet

Ayato really didn’t want to be here. 

He really doesn’t.

But he promised you that he’d show up. So here he is.

He sits at an open-mic night at a local club on the outskirts of Tokyo. 

The room was dim, the air filled with the lingering scent of smoke and whatever disgusting human food was being made across the street. 

All chatter dies down, and clapping erupts when you come on stage. 

Ayato almost doesn’t recognize you. 

You are wearing a mask made by some mask maker in the fourth ward, and he can only tell it’s you by the smell of your perfume/cologne. 

Your mask is stunning, if not a bit creepy. It’s made of white material and painted to resemble a doll. 

You tap the microphone, pull out your worn notebook, and begin to speak. 

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Congratulations on the milestone! You more than deserve it, such a talented writer!

I'd like to request a fic for your event. It's been a song stuck in my head for days, "The Alcott" by The National, and the character being Hunter. It's such a beautiful song and I can't wait to see how you interpret it with his character!

Thank you in advance, keep being awesome!

~🥀

Awwww @royalthunderbird that's so sweet of you!

I really hope you enjoy how I interpreted this song. It almost caught me off guard, but I was quite happy with how it turned out. Love The National and I've never heard this song before, so thank you for introducing it to me.

Love oo.

The Alcott

Warnings: Yo-yo relationship, food, declaration of feelings, angst, fluffish. I think that's it. If I miss anything please let me know.

Main Master List   | Star Wars Jukebox Roulette |   AO3 Link

You hadn’t planned on meeting Hunter, well… at least not this time. 

Both of you had been on again, off again so many times it was starting to give you whiplash. Yet, you couldn’t help it. He called and despite how many times you tried to argue, tried to justify not going, you still showed up. 

So there you were in the back of Dex’s Diner, waiting for him while you worked on your next article for HNE. You wrote in your golden notebook, writing out relevant dates and information that you’d need to look into later. 

“You want something honey?” 

You looked up to the waitress droid smiling, “Thanks Flo, could I get a Jamba Juice?”

“You got it, sweetheart.”

You watched her roll away as you focused back on the task at hand. 

Hunter stood outside the diner, just out of your line of sight. He leaned against the concrete building beside him, just watching you. The way you fiddled with the pen in your hand, the way it tapped against your lip, even the way you chewed on the end. A habit you’d been trying to break ever since the first time he met you. 

He let out a light sigh, Maker, you were still so beautiful. You had that smile on your lips, the one that you always wore. 

There was a time when you two first started going out, he asked why you always wore a smile on your face, you simply shrugged and said, “Why not? A lot of people are either having bad days or just haven’t had any sort of kindness in their life. If I can give them a little peace with a smile, then why not?”

He didn’t have a response to that; he just knew he fell in love with you at that moment. 

All he wanted to do was walk up to you, kiss you with all the passion his heart contained for you. To make you his once again, yet … he let out a breath shaking his head. He’d done this to you once too often, starting something only for either his job or yours to get in the way. 

The first time you two broke up, it was a misunderstanding between the two of you, both failing to recognize how you each felt about the other. 

The second time you broke up, it was because Crosshair implied you were only using Hunter to get classified information on the GAR.

The third time was because he misunderstood your relationship with an informant when he saw you holding their hand, simply because you were trying to console them.

Hopefully, this time … this time he could just be honest and tell you without regrets what he wanted. What he’s always wanted. 

He took a deep breath and righted himself, wiping off any visible dust, before he headed inside. 

You jotted down a few more names, as you were now on a roll with your research, questions that popped up that didn’t make sense, answers that were needed.

“H-hi cyare.”

You slowly lifted your head with a smile on your face as soon as you heard his voice, “Hey handsome. You’re late.”

He nodded as he sat, taking off his helmet and placing it on the table beside him, “Yeah, we ran into a little bit of trouble.”

“Oh! Anything good?” You teased as you smiled at him. 

“Hmm, yes and no. More of the fact that our aggressive negotiations took longer than expected.”

“Ahh, did they have better weaponry than you?” You wiggled your eyebrows, putting away your notebook and datapad, back into your satchel. 

“Sweetheart, you should know, no one has better weaponry than me.” He smirked as he looked at you.

You giggled as you nodded, “True. So…” you stopped fidgeting and focused solely on him, “how have you been? It’s been a minute since we actually spoke or even really saw each other.”

“Yeah,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “Sorry, about that. Things have gotten hectic the last few months.”

“Anything I should be concerned about?”

“Not that I can think of, but you still have your go-bag ready just in case, right?”

“Always.” You smiled as your head propped on your fist, “You look good.”

“So do you,” Hunter leaned forward, smiling. He was about to ask about your life and how you were doing when Flo came over and asked if they were ready to order. 

Once she was gone, Hunter just let out a contented sigh, as he looked at you. “I think I’m falling back in love with you.”

You looked startled for a moment, pulling back to sit up a little, you didn’t know what to say really. You had never stopped loving him, but … if he was falling back in love with you, then did that mean there were still trust issues between the two of you. What if you got back together and broke up for a fourth time? Could you handle that? What if you get back together and you realize this time you’re the one who’s moved on? What if there’s another misunderstanding, or if one of his other brothers says something that causes doubt in your relationship?

Hunter watched as you fidgeted with your finger against the table. 

Flo came back with your food, leaving it on the table. Even she noticed there was something odd with the intense silence that lingered between the two of you. 

He wanted to speak, but he decided against it. He didn’t want to distract you. He sat there silently, allowing you the time you needed to figure out what to do with what he said … maybe he made a mistake saying he was falling back in love, truth was he’d never fallen out of love with you. This would’ve been his fourth attempt to get back together with you, was he stupid for trying this? Maybe you wouldn’t believe him, when he said he was in love with you. Not that he blamed you.

Was he ruining this again before anything even started?

Was it over before he even got a chance to show you he changed?

He just needed you to look up at him, to smile at him. He just needed your smile. Why did he have to open his mouth?

You took a deep breath, and slowly lifted your eyes to look at him, “You’re falling back in love with me? So… you moved on and now … you’re … what, realizing you’re back in love?”

“No. Rather, I’m realizing, I’ve never stopped loving you. I …” he swallowed the nervousness that was bubbling forth from deep within. He clenched his hands. “I was an idiot. Every one of those times we broke up, it was my fault. I … I didn’t understand what it took to actually be in a relationship, and I know I’m asking a lot from you, by telling you all this, but I don’t want to run away, anymore. I don’t want to be scared. I don’t want to think I’m not good enough… I want to give us a real try.”

You looked at him and Gods, as hard as you tried, you just couldn’t stop that smile from appearing on your lips as you looked into his eyes. What do they say, fourth times a charm?

Main Master List   | Star Wars Jukebox Roulette |   AO3 Link

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal @crosshair-is-the-superior-clone @totallyunidentified @griffedeloup @leotatombs @leotawrites

[quintessbrit]

BRITISH ROYAL FAMILY GIF MAKERS

As we come to the end of 2023, a special shout out to the GIF and edits made incredibly quickly, efficiently and beautifully by these wonderful lot!

With every royal event, milestone or occasion, you always make me look forward to logging in and see what you've created!

@charlotte-of-wales @thewales @kingwilliamv @world-of-wales @princessanneftw @thiziri @princesscatherinemiddleton @sophiebernadotte @catherineelizabethwales @theroyalsandi @leonisandmurex @aimeedaisies @feifalik @harry-sussex @catherinecamb

I would love to do an edit, collage or GIF to say thank you, but I am not talented in this area!! Thank you so much for all that you do!!

(Apologies if I've missed anyone - if you feel I have, please message me!!)

(Special mention to @cambridgemadness for your thirsty William commentary that keeps me going 🥵)

[mumms-the-word]

A Room in Redcliffe

Part 1

Characters: Warden Alistair x Warden Amell (Lucy) Summary: It's 9:42 Dragon and Lucy Amell has finally returned from her quest out west to search for a cure to the Calling. In the last letter she wrote to her husband, Alistair, she asked him to meet her at Redcliffe at the start of summer. She's just arrived to get a room in Redcliffe for the two of them...and hope that he shows up. A/N: A (late-posted) gift for the AWESOME AND TALENTED @elspethdekarios! Glad you've joined me in my DA obsession and that you love Alistair as much as I do! This fic is a continuation of sorts of these Love Letters. Part 2 is here!

“One room, please,” Lucy said, placing a few coins on the tavern bar. “For three nights, if possible.”

“Aye, it’s possible,” the innkeeper said, scooping the coins into his hand. “Just gimme a moment, these old eyes, you know…”

He began to sift through the coins in his palm, counting them out. As he counted, Lucy let her eyes trail over the room, slowly taking in the guests, the furniture, the space. It had been some time since she last set foot in this old tavern. So much had changed since then.

The old Gull and Lantern. She had barely noticed the name or the sign the first time she’d walked in, all those years ago. Too busy trying to prepare the village for a horde of undead to notice things like tavern signs, and then too busy arguing with the owner at the time to ask him the name of the place. She’d been certain that the tavern would be destroyed by dawn, no matter how well they fought the shambling corpses. Names hadn’t mattered at the time.

But it was a hardy old building. It had made it through the attack of undead and the Fifth Blight, as well as every conflict that had cropped up since then—including the drama of the last year, all of which she had missed entirely. Mages versus Templars, holes in the sky, mage refugees in the village, Venatori plots, and who knew what else. And that was just in Redcliffe. It was strange to hear about it all secondhand.

She wondered what that greedy old bastard of an innkeeper would think, knowing his humble tavern had made it through the end of the world two or three times over? Thanks in part to the woman who’d come in threatening him to get him to defend the village, plus a dozen other heroes he’d never met in the years following.

Thankfully this new innkeeper was not that man. She didn’t recognize him in the slightest, thank the Maker, which meant he hadn’t the faintest idea who she was either. Even so, she kept her cloak hood up. Better to stay unnoticed for now.

He sniffed loudly and pocketed the coins. “Looks to be in order, ma’am. Now ye said three nights? Got a room just down the hall there, and then another in the back. Which would ye like?”

“Is the first upstairs room available? The first one on the left. If so, I’d prefer that one.” She allowed herself a small smile. “I think it has a better view.”

The innkeeper scratched his stubbled cheek and shrugged. “Does it? I never much noticed the view meself. Let me check the keys, one moment.”

As he moved off to sift through the keys in an old cabinet behind the bar, she looked around the room again. It was a little strange coming back to find it so unchanged and yet so different. The bar looked as greasy as ever, but the dining area was bigger. They had more rooms now, but it sounded like her usual room had been left alone. Not that the room was anything special. The “view” was little more than the branches of some hardy old tree too stubborn to let Blights or Breaches bring it down. But then, they’d never selected it for the view.

It felt wrong, now, to rent the room alone.

“Yer in luck,” the innkeeper said, placing a key on the counter. “Looks like that room is available for the takin’. But I’ll cost ye extra. For the view, o’ course.”

She snorted softly, but produced another few silvers. “Of course.” She could haggle, she knew that, but she had coin to spare and…well if a few extra silvers would pay for privacy…

“Thank ye kindly,” the innkeeper said, gathering up the coins. As he did so, hunching a bit over the bar, he glanced up at her, eyes searching beneath her hood. Before she could pull her hood further over her face, his face shifted to an expression of shock. “Hey, ain’t you—”

“Nobody important, I promise,” she said. She picked up the key from the counter and shouldered her bag. “Have a good evening.”

Without waiting for him to respond, she made her way up the stairs to the second floor. Though it had been a few years, she could find her way to the room they always rented even if she were blindfolded. There were so many good memories here. Now, those memories jostled for attention as she fit the key in the lock and turned the bolt, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

Just as she remembered it…give or take some new furniture and a new quilt on the bed. She took a deep breath as she closed the door behind her and set her bag down by the bed.

“Welcome home, Luce,” she whispered to herself. “Now we wait.”

Wait. With nothing but her memories to keep her company.

———

Dawn streamed in through the open windows, spilling hazy golden light over a pair of bodies half-tangled in the sheets on the bed. They’d pulled the newly-painted shutters wide open hours before to let in the night breeze, hoping for some relief from the heat of the summer’s day, something to cool the sweat that slicked their skin from a night of impassioned lovemaking.

Lovemaking. Lucy smiled into Alistair’s shoulder as the dreamy, waking thought came to mind. There truly was no better word for it, was there? Not when it was her and him, her Alistair, her would-be husband.

She breathed deeply of his scent, unwilling to open her eyes just yet. Just days ago, the pair of them had smelled little better than road dust, blackened darkspawn blood, metal, and acrid smoke. Now he smelled faintly of his natural musk and the soap they had used last night in their shared bath. Something earthy and lightly floral. It suited him. She had half a mind to purchase a few bars of the soap from whoever made it locally here in Redcliffe.

Hopefully they’d survived the darkspawn. Or the undead.

The room continued to brighten as the sun rose slowly, waiting for no one, a brand new day in a nation that had the two of them to thank for it surviving the Fifth Blight. As the light grew too bright to ignore, Lucy gave up on dozing and stretched, careful not to wake her sleeping lover, and then lightly rested her hand on Alistair’s chest and her chin on top of her hand, watching him. Waiting for him to wake up.

He was so handsome, especially in this light. Tanned skin with a faint dusting of freckles on his nose, a gorgeous, expressive mouth that she loved to kiss. As he dozed, she tilted her head, admiring the brush of his lashes against his cheek and the fine mess his hair had turned into. She so rarely got to see him this vulnerable. He was usually awake before she was.

A flicker of his eyelids warned her that he might not be as deeply asleep as she thought. She bit her lip against a smile and reached up, lightly tracing a finger down the bridge of his nose to the tip. No reaction. She traced the curve of his lips next, fully expecting him to react with a kiss. But he “slept” on.

She brushed his cheek next, her touch trailing back to his ear. A soft pinch of his earlobe—she was certain she saw his expression shift—then a light touch along the shell of his ear, slowly, slowly, up to the slightly pointed, almost elfin tip—

He gave a dramatic shiver and, in a flash, grabbed her wrist to stop her. “Maker’s breath, woman, you don’t have to torture me like that,” he said, cracking one eye open to squint at her. “I’m awake!”

But he ruined any sulky irritation he was faking with the smile that threatened to take over his lips. She laughed, sitting up, her wrist still caught in his grip.

“Just checking.”

“Suuure,” he said, dragging the word out, the doubt in his tone obvious. But even so, he smiled at last, pulling her arm up and pressing a few kisses to the thin skin of her wrist. He kissed her palm, next, and finally laid her hand flat against his chest, over his heart.

“Good morning, my love,” he said softly, gazing up at her with such blatant adoration that it made her cheeks flush.

She giggled. “Good morning, my darling. Ready to start a brand new, Blight-free day?”

“Mmm, in a moment,” he murmured. He switched his hold on her, looping an arm around her waist, and pulled her on top of him. “I’m not done admiring my beautiful wife.”

“I’m not your wife yet, Alistair,” she reminded him, untangling their legs to straddle him. She sat up, shaking her dark hair back over her shoulders, and couldn’t resist a smirk as she saw his eyes trailing down the length of her body, lingering over her breasts especially. “But admire away, darling.”

He grinned, his hands smoothing up her sides, his touch already raising gooseflesh on her skin.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

———

Lucy sighed, eyes open and staring at the dark ceiling overhead. She turned to lay on her side, but that brought the empty side of the bed into view, and the rest of the empty room beyond. She rolled over to her other side, facing the wall instead. If she stared hard enough, long enough, she might be able to find images in the rough texture of the aged plaster. Maybe that would lull her to sleep.

It had yet to work.

Instead, she stared at the wall, thinking back on that first morning here in this room. How the world had seemed so simple in those days. The threat of a major evil had been eliminated. They were the heroes of the Fifth Blight. Nothing could possibly be worse than what they had already faced, surely.

She scoffed softly to herself. They’d been so young at the time. So naive. There had been no Calling ringing in their ears in those days. No ancient god-like darkspawn to contend with, not yet. The future had seemed so bright.

Twenty or thirty more years to live had seemed so long.

She sighed again, shifting to lay on her back again, her hand absently smoothing over the empty side of the bed. A cool breeze slipped through the crack between the shutters, which she had kept closed for tonight. Old travel habits died hard after more than ten years on the go. Ten years of attempting to avoid as much notice as possible, for safety, for privacy, for peace. Heroism wasn’t all it was cracked up to be—she had realized that long ago. Not when everyone wanted you to fix their problems.

Maybe she ought to open the shutters now. Now that there were other heroes that people wanted. Inquisitors and Champions and the like.

She mulled the thought over in her mind before dismissing it. Not tonight. Not while she slept alone. But tomorrow…

Her love would be by her side again tomorrow.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.

That’s why she wouldn’t sleep. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. The thought kept her awake even when she knew sleep would bring the dawn faster than anything else. But still sleep wouldn’t come.

Because of course those darkest hours before the dawn played cruel tricks on her mind. Whispers of doubts. Dark visions. Her imagination ran wild with worry, if she didn’t keep it distracted. What should have been a night tossing and turning with anticipation and excitement was instead a slow crawl of hours filled with a churning dread.

What if he didn’t come?

She squeezed her eyes shut and rolled over again, grabbing one of the pillows. Stop thinking like that. She wrapped her arms tightly around the pillow, the way she would if he were here, if the pillow were her husband instead of a sack filled with downy feathers. Time for another distraction.

Memories. Back to that first rosy dawn in Redcliffe after the Blight. Back when she thought the two of them were invincible, and nothing would ever drive them apart.

———

“You know,” Alistair said, murmuring the words lazily into Lucy’s hair as they lay, spent, her body on top of his, the mid-morning sun warming the room around them. “If you think about it, we don’t have any orders. Nothing major to save. No big tasks to accomplish. For the first time, maybe ever, we can do whatever we please. At least for a little while.”

Lucy lifted her head from his chest, curious what he was getting at. “What do you mean?”

He half-shrugged his shoulders. “I mean that it will take weeks for word of the end of the Blight to reach Weisshaupt, and several weeks more for them to issue any orders to the two of us. Assuming they even know what to do with the two of us. I don’t see any need to jump into our next adventure immediately if you don’t.”

“Does that mean you want to stay here?” she asked, propping herself up on her elbows. “In Redcliffe?”

He gave another shrug. “We could.”

“And get married here?” she asked, grinning like a giddy schoolgirl.

A slow smile stole over his lips as he skimmed his fingers up and down her back. “I’m sure Eamon wouldn’t mind hosting a small wedding, if we ask him. If here is where you want a ceremony, that is.”

She sat up, then, straddling him again, her excitement getting the better of her. Ideas were crowding in her mind now, dreamy visions of idyllic futures starring just the two of them, a whole variety of domestic adventures and adventurous domesticity. “And we could get a house?”

He laughed, his hands resting on her hips. “Is that what you want?” he asked, squeezing her curves affectionately. “A house in Redcliffe?”

“I want a house with you,” she said, taking both of his hands and lifting them over his head. She pressed them into the mattress beneath him, using his hands as leverage to keep herself upright. She let her hair fall like a curtain to one side, the ends brushing over his chest and shoulder. “Is that too much to ask?”

“Not if you ask it like that,” he murmured with a crooked smile. He lifted his head to try and snag a kiss from her lips but fell just a few inches short. He flopped back with a pout, making effective use of those big brown eyes she loved so much. The message was obvious.

She rolled her eyes fondly but leaned in and gave him a kiss. “Is that a yes?” she asked, pulling away but keeping his wrists pressed to the mattress. “To finding a house?”

He made a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat. “It’s a maybe. Grey Wardens rarely stay in one place, you know.” He tilted his head to one side. “Are you sure you want to get a house you might not spend that much time in? I thought you liked to travel. After so long in that tower…”

“I do,” she said. “But I…I don’t know, I like the thought of having a house here, too. Somewhere that’s ours, where we’re free to come and go. Where we can hide from the world for a bit and just be ourselves. Does that make sense?”

“Why Redcliffe, though?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. “Why not Amaranthine or some remote village to the east? Not that I’m advocating for any specific place or anything, I’m just curious.”

“I don’t know. Because here is…special?” At his dubious look, she sighed and let go of him, sitting up again.

“Look, maybe the whole idea is silly,” she said, her fingers absently drawing circles in his skin, over his chest. “And maybe it’s really impractical, but…you were raised here. This is your hometown. It’s not terribly far from my mother, if we travel by boat. It’s quiet here. Well, now it is, anyway. It just…seems like a pleasant place to settle down. Eventually. If you want.”

She could feel her cheeks burning to admit so much to him all at once, but at the same time, she didn’t care to take any of it back. Maybe it was too much to ask. Maybe he’d call her foolish. Maybe he’d dismiss the whole idea. But at least she had tried.

And a girl could dream, couldn’t she? She hadn’t had cause to craft little dreams like these in years. Even though mages could marry, weddings were rare in the Circle. Houses were impossible. Families…

Well…she would have to think about that later.

With his hands now free, he rested them on her thighs again, palms warm and slightly rough with callouses from years of wielding a sword and shield in training and in battle. She loved the feel of them on her skin, no matter where he put them.

“A place to settle down?” he asked softly.

She nodded. “Eventually.”

A smile flickered on his lips. “I think I’d like that very much,” he murmured. He reached up with one hand and sank his fingers in her hair, his gaze softening on her face as he played with her dark waves, winding a lock of hair around his finger. “A home somewhere with you? It sounds perfect.”

He brought her down for another kiss, and she could taste the promise on his lips before he even uttered it.

“We’ll find our forever home one day soon. I promise.”

[reneerappcentral]

Welcome to Reneé Rapp Central!

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[handspunyarns]

You Were Marked: Day Twenty-One point Five (Din)

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C     

word count: 2.9K  

chapter summary: Din takes a bad decision and makes it worse. 

warnings:  angst, mention of incest, inbreeding, suicide, infertility, masturbation, English and Mando’a cursing  

***Please feel free to comment, kvetch, or otherwise speak your mind about my work. ***      

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Din stared at Marathel.  “When do we …” 

“When do we leave?” 

Din was unable to speak.  Marathel could hear his breathing in the helmet as he continued to stare at her, and she knew that he normally took care to not let his breathing be heard.  I have broken him, she thought.  I have destroyed his soul, set it afire, burned away any care or affection he could ever have for me, and that is as it should be, but I am sorry I had to hurt him so to do it. 

Din swallowed the bile that had risen again in his throat, burning his sinuses.  I can’t, I can’t.  Her words seemed to have filled him with a poison that threatened to burn him down to nothing.  Never, never, had he heard of such an existence as hers. Anyone else would have died.  Anyone else would have killed themselves — should have killed themselves.  And she tried, oh she tried, but whatever oversaw this horrible universe, be it the Force, or Frith, or a cruel Maker and Destroyer of Worlds, kept her alive. Alive and beautiful and smart and talented and kind, despite being filled with pain and shame and self-loathing and guilt.  And love, for Frith’s sake, love, love for Grogu and even for him, because she’d had to love him to empty out her guts like this to him, to share her agony in the hopes of …  

“Bounty Hunter?” 

He looked back up at Marathel, and there was concern in her voice and on her face, concern for him; she’d just described how she’d survived the most horrific existence possible, and she was concerned for him?   

As he stared at her, one part of his mind continued the litany of I can’t I can’t, but another part of his mind was desperately trying to remind him that he loved her and nothing else mattered. 

But it did. 

It did matter. 

It mattered to him that she hated his Creed.  His Creed, the one thing that some days kept him going, that made his own life worthwhile.  It mattered to him that she believed her Hold and his covert were alike.  It mattered to him that she believed his Creed worked at the expense of others. It mattered that she believed he’d used his Creed to hurt her.  It mattered that she believed that her … birth circumstances made a difference in his feelings for her. 

It mattered, because as much as he would hate to admit it, there was the possibility that she could be right. 

Marathel watched Din’s gloved hands clench into fists.  She was suddenly struck with horrible anxiety; she was reminded of her dream — the Bishop disguised as Din, stalking towards her with the intent to do her harm.  It frightened her to see those fists, because she had just spent however long telling him the most disgusting and degrading things, and then she had the audacity to make a comparison of her circumstances to his Creed, to a man whose hands could kill her as easily as caress her.  That was an unforgivable thing that she did.  And she did it because … to her it was the truth.  Her truth.  And right now, that was the only truth she cared about. 

Marathel heard him swallow and take a shaky breath, but he still said nothing, and his visor pointed towards a point over and beyond her shoulder.  She leaned forward, and softly said, “Din?” 

“I can’t,” he softly uttered, shaking his head. 

Marathel nodded, and leaned back against the wall, and she went back to looking at the night sky as Din turned and walked out of the room. 

As he left, he practically crashed into Cobb, who grabbed him by the wrists, muttering, “No, you don’t … don’t you dare …” 

“Leave off, Cobb …” hissed Din as he worked to twist his hands away.  He almost succeeded, but he was distracted and upset, and Cobb got a tight hold of him again.  

“Don’t you fucking dare walk away from her!  She needs you right now!” 

Looking past Cobb’s shoulder, Din could see a weeping Silnima, curled against the wall.  Din stopped struggling.  “I can’t, Cobb.” 

“You better, if you love her like you say you do,” replied Cobb.  He released Din’s hands.  Din took a step back.  He looked at Cobb for a moment, and then he turned and continued down the corridor.  Cobb sighed deeply.  Silnima had paused her crying to see Din walk away, and she was wracked with fresh sobs. 

Down in the courtyard, ten feet below Marathel’s window, Fennec and Boba sat on the hard-packed ground.  Fennec leaned back against Boba, and his arms, wrapped around her, gave her another squeeze.  “I hate it when I’m right,” muttered Fennec, and Boba said nothing, but kissed the top of her head. 

Silnima went to the kitchen to cry in private.  Cobb stood just outside Marathel’s room, watching her watch the sky.  She’s too quiet, too still.  She only lost it a little there, the rest will go soon, and I think it will be like a Sandcrawler exploding. 

Cobb walked up to Marathel, and reached up to gently pull on her arm and her leg.  “No, don’t,” she said, twisting away, but he kept pulling at her.  “You shouldn’t be touching me,” muttered Marathel. 

“You ain’t got no cooties, now come down here.”  He gave her another tug, and she let him lift her down from the windowsill.  He pulled the chair aside to pick up her blanket, and he wrapped her tightly in it.  As Cobb sat back down, he hauled her onto his lap, picking up her feet to tuck them at his hip.  Marathel sat stiffly in his arms, looking down at him.  Cobb looked up at her, and he placed his hands on her cheeks, his thumbs softly stroking the hair at her temples.  He whispered, “I’m so sorry, honey.” His warm hazel eyes bored into her silver ones as he continued to stroke her hair, and finally her eyes filled with tears, and she wilted against him, into his arms, and her head fell to his shoulder with a wail. 

Din walked all the way to the landing tunnel, straight to the landing gear of the Crest.  He stepped behind the landing gear, in darkness and out of sight, stripped off his helmet, and vomited into the sand. Twice.  He dry-heaved, spit, and swallowed, but the sickness was still inside, an insidious toxic feeling.  Tears threatened, but he kept them back by sheer force of will and replaced his helmet.  His Creed.  His strength, his salvation.  He walked around to the side of the ship and slapped the ramp control. 

Din walked up into his ship, his mind whirling.  He couldn’t go into his tiny quarters because that was where she had lain, dying.  He couldn’t go into the cockpit because he’d dreamed of her up there.  He couldn’t go into the fresher because he’d masturbated to thoughts of her in there.  Her blood had been tracked over every square inch of this ship.  Her blood was in the metal that made his helmet.  His Creed was now tainted by her. 

Marathel.   

Never had another person uprooted Din’s life in such a volatile manner.  He had lost both his parents, he had been adopted into a warrior religion, he had lost his mentor, he had gained… well, a son.  He was a murderer, an assassin, a mercenary, a bounty hunter, and now an ersatz father to a little green Jedi, which, in the scheme of things, should have been enough excitement.   

But no, he had to get tangled up with a woman, and not just a woman, this woman.  Not another Mandalorian, not another mercenary (although, to be fair, Xi’an had turned him off from ever attempting that again), not even the quiet and lovely Omera.  A Mandalorian — even one from another sect — would be understanding of his Creed.  At least Omera had been respectful as she questioned his Creed.  To hear Marathel say she didn’t give a shit about it upset him greatly.  How dare she?  How dare she attack the core of who I am?  How could she be that cruel?   

He pulled off his helmet and dropped it on the floor.  He kicked the crate into the center of the floor — near the divot he had placed there — and sat, leaning over, his elbows on his knees.  His misery was too familiar; it was the same as when he first realized what the Dilimgau was, how it had been used.  He thought he might howl now as he had then, but instead, no sound left his lips other than the breath from the bottoms of his lungs.  He hugged himself tightly to keep his chest from exploding open with the pain.   

Why are you crying, son? 

I can’t, Father. 

What’s got your thermals in a twist, kid? 

I can’t, buir. 

And he couldn’t. He couldn’t fathom how to wrap his head around everything he had just heard. He was an engineer’s son, although he was a bounty hunter and an assassin, a murderer and a criminal. He still had the mind of an engineer, and he wanted so much to fix this, and he had no idea how.  

How do I find the root cause of this kind of pain?  How do I compartmentalize her suffering?  Her cruel words to me?  Her background, the fact that she’s …  

He couldn’t bring his mind to form the words, the truth about her that he’d suspected yet not allowed himself to believe about her familial relationship with the Bishop.  The man who was her father, her grandfather, going back for who knew how many generations, was also supposed to be her … 

Don’t say lover, don’t even think it!  

… sexual partner and the father of her children.  That was her purpose in life, to be an incubator for his progeny.   

Thank Frith she was sterile.  That happened, he’d heard, in clans such as hers, as if nature abhorred the practice and made it self-destruct.  It was taboo among the Mandalorians, obviously, but very taken especially seriously in his covert, which was small and only had a few families.  Relationships were severed once consanguinity was discovered, and he’d heard of pregnancies being terminated on the rare occasion it occurred.  It was another reason that bringing in foundlings was such an honored tradition, although this particular reason was not spoken out loud. 

But there had been one in his covert.  It wasn’t found out until the child was half-grown and near the age of taking the helmet.  Two young men had finally revealed that the child’s mother, their blood aunt, had molested and abused them when they were younger, and this child was the result.   

The mother and child were drummed out of the covert, her helmet confiscated, stripped of her Mandalorian heritage.  Din had struggled with whether he would feel sorry for the child or be disgusted by its existence.  He had asked his buir about his conflict, and he had responded that all three of the children deserved pity regardless, for none of it had been their fault.  But then his buir said, if you can find it in your heart to have a grain of sand’s worth of pity for the aunt, for she was sick of mind, heart, and soul … then you’ll be a better man than I could ever be, kid. 

The idea that inbreeding was the preferred practice of continuing the population was one of the foulest things Din had ever heard of.  The possibility that she could have brought forth another generation was monstrous to him.  But truly, it was not her fault, for what else did she know? 

Remember the first day?  The second?  Those days when you were still unaware of the depths of her ignorance?  She didn’t know what a ship was.  What planets and stars were.  How can you blame her for what she had no way of knowing? 

He knew he had to pity her for what she suffered inside that Hold.  He had to pity her for the circumstances of her birth, and how she would continue to suffer because of it.  If he could pity her for those things, then he had to find a grain of sand’s worth of pity for her ignorance of his Creed.  She didn’t understand because she couldn’t.   

If Marathel would allow it, I will teach her my Creed, why it’s so important to me, why it is so essential to the core of my being.  If she cannot, or will not, then I know I will have done my best by my Creed. 

I don’t always have to like her, but I must try to love her as best I can.  And if I love her, then nothing else matters. 

I’m so sorry, my ma’mwsh ha’laa.   

Din finally collected himself enough to return to the palace.  He had abandoned her, thought only of his own pain and not hers, and he had to try to make it right.  He fucked up again, he was only human, and he didn’t know what the hell he was doing.  He still didn’t know how to process at least half of what Marathel said, nor could he process half of the conflicting emotions he felt.   

He had never heard anything so vile before, and he had been an assassin for the Empire.  He was a murderer for a living, and hearing what Marathel endured after going through that door made him physically sick.  But he had to try, for her sake, to help her continue to endure, because he … 

He stepped up to the door, hearing Cobb’s voice, low, soothing.  Din moved into the doorway to see Marathel, wrapped tightly in her blanket, cradled on Cobb’s lap.  She clutched at his neck, weeping.  His arms held her tight as he gently rocked her.  Cobb’s face also held tear-tracks, and he glared at Din, as if to say, this is where you should be, you should have been the one to hold her, comfort her, tell her that none of it mattered.  But you couldn’t, so I did, and there is no helmet between me and her.  Cobb held Din’s eyes as he kissed Marathel’s cheek, keeping his lips against her soft skin much longer than was necessary before dropping his face to her shoulder.  Her hand went up into Cobb’s hair, her fingers twisting in the strands. 

Suddenly it all made sense.  Her drawing away.  Her telling him to let her go.  Her inability to return words of love.  Her hatred of his Creed.  Cobb’s insistence on being alone with her, keeping Din away as long as possible.  So it’s true, thought Din.  You son of a bitch.  Guess what, friend?  You can have her.  You deserve each other.  

The thought flew through his head unbidden, shocking him, but not enough to shake off his anger.  He ground his teeth until his jaw ached. 

No, no. Strike that.  You don’t get her. I don’t get her.  

No one does. 

She’s going back. 

Din snapped, “We leave tomorrow morning.”  Marathel’s head came up and half-turned to him, her face red from weeping, but she still was able to blush, infuriating Din even more.  He spun and left her room, heading to his room and back to Grogu.  As he passed the kitchen, he saw Silnima, her face in her hands.  He ignored her sobbing and continued down the corridor.  He entered his room and his eyes fell on Grogu, his pride, his joy.  He was that boy’s father in all ways that mattered.  Like Olba was for Marathel.  Not that it did any good.  No one protected those children.  No one protected those women.  Let them die out, let that horrible place fall out of existence.  And if Marathel wants to go back to die out with them, then I’ll take her back, and gladly let her go. 

Unmanarall and its sick, perverted culture  — including Marathel —wasn’t his battle.  Grogu was his battle.  His Creed was his battle.   

Din crawled into bed, carefully placing a protective hand on Grogu’s tiny chest, feeling the small beskar rondel under the little shirt.  A shirt Marathel had made. His Mama.   

Grogu’s going to lose his Mama, thought Din, a fresh pang shooting through his heart.    

He’s young.  He’ll forget her.  I will too, in time. 

He wanted to sleep for a thousand years.  Maybe that would be long enough to forget her.  But sleep would not come, even after he had — several times — replayed and dissected and diagrammed every word she had said to him tonight, every inflection in her voice … and then her ugly words about his Creed, and the sight of her hand tangled in Cobb’s hair.  Every root cause analysis he tried to effect had a different beginning and a different course of action he should take, muddying his rational thought. Exhausted, confused, heartbroken, Din lay there, his hand resting on the little warm body of Grogu, wishing he could sleep. He turned off his visor, and stared into the darkness, wondering why he could hear singing, and the smell of baking bread.

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