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Giving up
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
Summary: Coaxing your neighbor into having sex with you although he's unsure since he's much, much older than you
Warnings: big ass unspecified age-gap, Jackson!Joel is a softie Smut| unprotected piv, crempie, insicure!joel, sub!joel, also my man has trouble lasting cause he's not done this in a very long time.
a/n:i needed to write some cheesy romantic stuff, and maybe it doesn't really make all that sense in this story and maybe i cried while writing this cause no one is ever gonna love me like this but so what bitch leave me alone (i also am i lil tipsy as i proofread this, so ignore any mistakes pls)
Part 1
"did you do something to your hair?"
Tommy was standing on Joel's doorstep, looking at him as if he were an alien.
"I washed 'em" he grumbled, "what do you want?"
His brother couldn't help but huff out a laugh
"someone's in a good mood today"
"I've gotta be somewhere, just tell me what you want"
Tommy's interest was only piqued more.
there stood his brother, his clothes perfectly clean- maybe even ironed- his hair... styled, his beard trimmed...
something was definitely going on.
"Where are you going?"
Joel rolled his eyes now, shooting his little brother a death glare
"none of your business"
Oh he knew what was going on...
"Who is she?"
"Tommy-"
"Is it Jessica? I bet 's Jessica, she's always flirting with you you ol' dog-"
Joel swore he was gonna punch him- he was already running late because of how long he took to pick his clothes- finding a flannel that wasn't completely worn out turned out to be real fucking hard.
He felt stupid for how much effort he'd put into getting ready, he felt stupid for how anxious he was, but most of all... he wanted his brother to go away.
"There ain't no one, Tommy- now, if there ain't anything you need, please go-"
But just then- just when he was finally going to get rid of him, your sweet, soft voice made its way to his ears.
"Hi Joel! Hi Tommy!" You smiled from your porch, waving your hand at him and his brother "You didn't forget about today, did you Joel?"
What in the actual fuck?
Tommy did a double-check, looking between you and his brother, and when he finally confirmed that it was actually him you were talking to, you whom he'd gotten all dolled up for, he couldn't do anything but let out a slow, long breath.
"No I didn't- I'll be there in a minute, darlin'!" Joel was answering you as his brother regained his ability to speak
"well... Fuck. Me" he was in awe, his voice barely a murmur
"it ain't like that" Joel was quick to intervene "'m just fix-"
"'m sure it ain't" Tommy let out a chuckle, his hand going to pat his brother's back "You fucking lucky bastard"
"Tommy I know she's young bu-"
"shut up man" he laughed "Just go have fun, you asshole"
__ __
"Sorry 'm late, Tommy was just-"
You smiled at his words, shaking your head
"It's ok, Joel" you cooed as you let him in,
He gave you a soft little smile, and you felt like the luckiest girl in the world.
Joel Miller didn't smile just at anyone.
"water?" you asked, leading him to the kitchen.
"Uhm- sure"
His heart was damn near beating out of his chest already- for no fucking reason at all.
Well except the obvious one... you'd sucked his dick and he'd eaten you out three days ago- and you'd made it clear you wanted more.
Jesus Christ, he felt like a fourteen-year-old with his first crush.
You watched him as he sipped on the glass.
"So?" a soft smirk was caged between your teeth "Did you think about it?"
He damn near choked.
Which didn't make any sense, he was expecting this, he already knew you'd ask.
He cleared his throat, diverting his eyes from you "I-I have"
"And?"
You'd gotten closer, your expectant eyes studying every inch of his face
pleasepleasepleaseplease say yes
"Did- didn't you have something that needed fixing?"
Oh for fuck's sake
"joel" you called for him in what almost sounded like a plead.
"darlin' just... lemme fix your cabinet first"
This man was gonna be the goddamn death of you.
"ok"
__ __ __
As it turns out, in many different ways.
Who knew watching him fix something would turn out to be so fucking hot?
He'd rolled his shirt up so that his strong forearms and a glimpse of his beautiful bite-worthy biceps were showing, his hands moved so very expertly that they couldn't help but bring back memories of what those same fingers had done to you just a few days ago, and his face... he looked so hot when he was all in his head, concentrated only on the task before him-
or so you thought.
"You're gonna stare at me the whole time?"
A soft laugh escaped your lips
"don't mind me- just enjoying the view"
He huffed out a laugh as he went back to work, but you couldn't help but notice the fact he pushed his sleeves ever further up his arms, giving you more of a view of his delectable skin.
What a tease
__ __ __
"there we go" he said after some time, opening and closing the cabinet one final time to make sure "all done"
For the record, this time you hadn't even done it on purpose, the cabinet had actually broken. It was like fate was sending you a message.
You awakened from your daydreams as he stood up to his full height, and hopped off the stool you were sitting on to walk closer to him, noticing some dampness in your panties while doing so...
It wasn't your fault... he was the one looking way too hot doing such a simple task.
"thank you" You smiled up at him, your hands going to his chest,
He held his breath for a moment
"'s nothing babygirl"
"yeah? then... you think you could check my bedroom too?" you were biting your lip in a way that made your question take on a whole different meaning "to make sure nothing needs fixing y'know?"
"In your... bedroom?"
"yes, Joel- please" you added, with your best innocent doe eyes.
Which of course made him fold in a matter of seconds.
You'd taken on a different tactic. It was obvious at this point that the man was too shy and too unsure to give you an answer (or the one you wanted to hear anyway), which is why you needed to present him with the actual possibility right in front of him.
And yeah maybe it was manipulative, but fuck it if you didn't wanna feel the man inside of you.
The flashbacks of what he did to you on that bed filled his mind the moment he stepped into the room.
He needed to get a grip or he wouldn't be able to hide his growing bulge in a minute.
"Everything seems right"
"yeah? 'm not sure about the bed" you hummed, desperately hoping he would just go along with it "it makes a weird sound when I get on it"
He turned to you then, his eyes locking with yours for an infinite second.
"try" you said finally, nodding to the bed.
He watched you for a moment longer before, surprising you, he did it- he sat on the bed.
The mattress creaked underneath his weight, and you made quick work of strolling closer to him as he pressed his palms on the bed, checking for the inexistent "weird sound"
"it don't look like there's anythin' wron-" he looked up the moment your hands found his shoulders "Whatcha doin'? sweethear-"
You were sat on his lap before he could even finish the sentence.
"Joel" you spoke his name softly, as if it were a caress, your hands slowly moving up and down from his shoulders to his pecs, as you finally scooted closer to him so your core was right against the hardness in his jeans-
He inhaled sharply, his fingers curling on the bed.
"would you like to have sex with me or not?"
You accentuated your words with a slow roll of your hips, grinding onto him and making a soft groan build inside his throat
"this- this ain't really fair sugar"
A smirk pulled at your lips as you lowered your head to whisper in his ear "I never said I didn't play dirty, Mr. Miller"
Your right hand trailed lower, moving down his belly so slowly that Joel thought he might just lose his mind.
"You're y-young baby-"
Your hand had found his crotch, the outline of his dick fitting in your hand oh so perfectly.
"we've gone over this already Joel, I'm old enough" you purred, your lips leaving a peck just below his ear "old enough to do many many things"
He cursed under his breath
"I just... I don't understand"
A breathy laugh escaped you
"there's not much to understand really" you murmured "You're hot, and I like you, and I wanna get in your pants"
That earned you a chuckle
"and you're sure you won't regret this?" he asked, "you sure this is what you really want- that- that you don't want to give a boy your age a chance instead of me?"
You smiled as you looked up at him,
you'd never met a man so sweet
"Joel, I promise you I'm sure" you whispered "I promise you this is what I want, you are what I want"
Fucking damn it
How could he ever say no after that?
With those gentle eyes of yours looking at him, with your hand right over his cock...
"So?"
He was gonna think about the consequences tomorrow. Now- now there was only you.
"yes"
That single word sounded better than any song you'd ever heard.
yes
Your lips were on his before he could even think of changing his mind- and god did they feel like a dream.
His soft stubble grazed against your cheeks and upper lip, as you deepened the kiss, as he opened up to you, closing his eyes only after he'd taken you in, only after he could admire all that was happening to him for some godforsaken reason.
A growl rumbled from his chest when your core found his dick again, grinding onto it in a way, that combined with the way your tongue was tasting every inch of him, was making him see stars.
He didn't think he'd kissed like this in 30 years,
making out seemed like such a distant thing from him, he was much too old to do something like this, and yet... everything about you made him feel like a teenager all over again, so perhaps it was fitting-
and god he had forgotten how amazing it felt.
You started undoing his flannen, not even dreaming of breaking the kiss, and once you opened his shirt up, once his big strong chest was right there before you, you just had to look at it.
You leaned away, his lips chasing yours making you smile as your gaze lowered.
Jesus, he was the hottest man you'd ever seen.
Some hair and freckles adorned his pecs, his little belly was ever so cutely fighting against his jeans- his skin was soft beneath your palms as they explored every inch they could reach.
He was looking at you, watching your blow-out eyes, wondering what potion you'd drank to be this mesmerized by what he had to offer.
You smiled once you caught him, leaning closer to leave a quick kiss on his lips.
"take off your clothes"
You got off of him, and once he saw you get rid of your shirt, your boobs pushed together by a simple black bra that somehow, at the moment, seemed like the sexiest thing in the world, he rushed to follow suit, nearly tripping getting off his pants.
The moment he looked at you again, the world- the universe, it all went quiet.
You stood naked before him, a soft, perfect little thing, looking like a damn dream.
"babygirl" he could only breathe as you reached him again.
"What?" you laughed
"I-I don't even know"
You shook your head, grinning from ear to ear as he pressed his mouth on yours again.
He was already addicted.
In a haze, you found yourself on the bed, your body caged beneath his, his tongue fighting with yours, his hands all over- You almost had the urge to laugh at how desperate he seemed, how frantically he was touching every inch of you, exploring every piece of skin-
His hands were on your tits, fingers gently playing with your nipples, then on your belly, your waist, your ass, your thighs, until finally, he found your core, but before he had the time to fully reach it you'd switched up with him, straddling his lap as he laid flat on his back... only he couldn't keep away for even a second and he immediately sat up, grabbing your waist.
He couldn't even begin to complain that you'd already grabbed his cock, positioning it at your entrance.
You couldn't wait anymore- you needed him now.
"Wait-" he murmured, his breathing labored already "you sure you're... y'know ready?"
Oh my god, you swore you were gonna fall for him if he kept this shit up.
"Joel" you smiled, looking into his big brown eyes "I've been wet since you fixed the cabinet"
"I-" he blushed "You-you sure?"
You didn't answer him, you simply took one of his hands in yours and guided him to feel just how much you were telling the truth.
"Fuck"
"yeah" you smirked "that's just what you do to me, Mr. Miller"
Jesus fuck
Joel didn't think his cock had ever been so hard.
You didn't give him time to do or say anything- he'd gathered that's how you did things by now- as you slowly, oh so very slowly, started sinking onto him.
He was big, the kind of big you'd be feeling tomorrow morning. The stretch hurt just right, so overwhelmed by the unadulterated pleasure that it was barely there.
Soft little moaned gasps spilled from your lips with every inch added, your eyes were closed, only focusing on the extraordinary feeling as your nails clawed at Joel's chest.
Until, finally- you'd done it. You were fully sat on his cock, and while your eyelids fluttered open, you regained your ability to hear- to hear the curses leaving Joel's mouth between ragged breaths
"Jesus Christ- Jesus fucking Christ- Goddamnit"
His grip on your waist was so tight you were sure it was gonna leave a bruise... not that you were complaining.
"you ok?"
His eyes were shut close and creases of effort filled his forehead, while his chest went up and down as he desperately tried to breathe.
"Joel?"
He swallowed tightly, now breathing in through his nose before exhaling from his mouth.
"d-don't move"
You smiled as you promised "I won't"
God this was fucking embarrassing.
He'd spent three days training.
And yes he wasn't sure he would have said yes, but still, better safe than sorry- except for the fact it clearly hadn't worked.
He had spent three days fucking his own fist and trying to last as much as possible and he did do progress... but this... this was fucking nothing like what he'd felt in the last twenty years.
He was so fucked
"I-I'm sorry" he gritted out, sounding almost defeated "I- I haven't done this in a long time darlin'"
"And you... you feel so fuckin' good- fuck"
Your walls had inadvertently squeezed around him at his words, making a groan rumble in his chest.
"You have nothing to apologize for Joel"
he would have told you that your voice was making everything worse if he weren't so preoccupied with trying to calm his dick down.
"take all the time you need"
And so he did, his eyes remained closed as he breathed through the initial shock, until finally, after what felt like an eternity, he was back.
He had to stifle a moan once he opened his eyes back up.
There you were, your beautiful eyes trained on his with such gentleness and care that it made where his gaze fell to feel even more sinful.
Your boobs were barely touching his chest, and yet they could have been in his face for the effect they had on him- his hands were on your waist, holding onto your soft flesh, your thighs were straddling his lap, giving him no choice but to finally look between your bodies, where you two connected.
"Darlin'" he murmured, hypnotized
You smiled, watching him admiring you in silence
"You look..."
Every word that came to mind wasn't enough, you were otherwordly, you were perfection... so he just settled on the simplest, and perhaps truest of them all.
"you're beautiful"
Your cheeks burned with heat as his gaze came back to yours.
"so are you, Joel"
And that was that.
His lips found yours again, and you couldn't stop your hips as they started moving, rocking back and forth and bringing little waves of ecstasy to your core.
A desperate moan spilled from yours to Joel's mouth as he grabbed the back of your head, forcing you into an even deeper kiss as he started following your movements.
Your hands went to the back of his neck, grabbing at the hair at the nape of it as you finally started bouncing on his dick, and god- god it was even better than you could have ever imagined
The loudest growl sounded from his throat as you worked yourself up and down on his shaft.
He was in another universe, his actions were only reflexes as the hand not tangled in your hair found your tits and then your ass, grabbing at it with tenderness and need.
"Oh Joel" you cried, his dick filling you up better than anything ever before.
You could quite literally feel him in your stomach, every little vein and ridge of skin creating a permanent dent inside of you that only he was ever gonna be able to fill.
"sweetheart- fuck" he groaned on his own, your breaths mixing as you ghosted each other's mouths, his eyes raking over your body and face, while yours couldn't help but roll to the back of your head as his manhood hit a particularly good spot.
"You feel so- good Joel" you whimpered mindlessly, now quickening your pace, desperation taking over you completely.
the sound of him entering your drenched core mixed with the bed creaking underneath you as you drove yourself closer and closer to heaven.
The sound of his name falling from your lips was something that filled Joel's chest with an indescribable feeling, he felt on top of the word, and at the same time... at the same time he wished it had never left your mouth because it was now forever imprinted in his brain, and he knew nothing was ever gonna compare to it.
Oh and also- also it was making his little lasting problem real fucking hard to control.
But he was nothing if not a gentleman,
You were gonna come, he wasn't gonna have it any other way.
His hand lowered down your belly as you kept chasing your release, looking like a damn glimpse of paradise, until his thumb found your clit.
"Oh fuck" you moaned, your eyes snapping open to look at him- a dark glaze of lust shading your iris.
Joel realized too late that he hadn't taken into account how fucking tight you'd get, and was now really paying the consequences.
Plus when you looked at him like that... maybe just this one time he could not be a gentleman- I mean it's not like he had much choice, he was trying his hardest but- shit
"darlin'" he mumbled, his thumb circling your bud "w-where do ya- where do ya want it?"
You moaned louder just at the thought of him coming
"Inside"
It wasn't even a question
"N-no sweetheart I-I shouldn-"
"Joel" you interrupted him, your lips grazing his as you talked, your grip on his hair tightening "I want you to fill me up until I can feel you leaking out of me for days"
Good Christ and heaven
"Fuck me" he cursed, all his strength going on not coming right there and then "Darlin' please- tell me you're close"
You were already seeing stars as he spoke
"I'm close, baby- oh fuck" you cried "Joel!"
A tsunami of lust-filled pleasure coursed through your veins as your orgasm hit like a damn truck.
You couldn't even remember your name as you screamed his own into the thick air, as you moaned and cried and spasmed around him, feeling him do exactly what you'd asked- filling you up to the very brim.
He'd started coming the moment you did- he couldn't do anything about it, it was just unadulterated perfection-
His head fell between your neck and shoulders as groaned like a man possessed,
until finally, after a good three minutes, you were both back to the land of the living.
He looked twenty years younger when he looked at you again, and you- you looked like the most beautiful woman on earth.
A soft smile pulled at your lips, and you couldn't help but ask "How long before we can do it again?"
And fuck him, but his age didn't matter, with those eyes of yours, it might very well be minutes.
@kluvspedro @bluebiyou @casssiopeia @bean-is-reading @millerispunk @i-cant-stfu
#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller fluff#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfic#sub!Joel#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x you#sub joel miller#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#joel miller imagine#joel miller blurb#smut#joel miller angst#fanfiction#the last of us#tlou#the last of us hbo#tlou hbo
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When I first joined Tumblr, I had no idea what I was walking into. There’s no manual for navigating this wild, untamed corner of the internet. My first moment here? I was greeted by an image completely naked, no warning, no explanation. It was just there, bold and unapologetic. That’s when I realized: Tumblr is a place where anything can happen.
But for all its chaos, Tumblr has become something far greater than I ever expected. For us Palestinians, this platform isn’t just a space to scroll through memes or vent about life. It’s a lifeline, a place where we’ve taken the raw, messy energy of this site and turned it into a battleground for survival. Here, we tell our stories, raise funds, and fight for our lives.
I’ve seen campaigns soar past their goals, bringing hope to families barely holding on. But I’ve also seen campaigns like mine, ones that fight tooth and nail for every single dollar, every reblog, every addition, and every ounce of hope. My family’s lives depend on this.
It hasn’t been easy. Zionists flood all Palestinian words with hate, twisting truths and spreading lies. They aim to discredit us, to make people doubt us. It’s exhausting. Some nights, I sit with my phone in my hands, wondering if this fight is too big for me. But then something beautiful happens: a donation comes through, a kind message appears, or someone I’ve never met reblogs my story with words that feel like a warm embrace.
And through it all, people are starting to see the truth. The hate doesn’t drown us; it sharpens our voices. Every day, more people step forward to stand with us, to say, “I see you, I hear you, and I’m with you.” It’s those moments that keep me going.
To everyone who has already helped, whether through verification, donating, wrting post , reblogging, or simply sharing a kind word: thank you. You’ve done more for my family than I could ever put into words. But the reality is, we’re not there yet. My family is still waiting for a chance to breathe, to live without fear, to fill their empty stomachs with warm food, and to wrap themselves in clothes thick enough to keep out the bitter cold. They’re hungry, they’re freezing, and I can’t do this alone.
This fight is hard, but it’s not hopeless. Strangers have become friends, and friends have become family. Some of you have shown up in ways I never imagined, treating my family’s survival as if it were your own. That kind of solidarity? It’s powerful.
Tumblr might be chaotic, unpredictable, and sometimes downright bizarre, but it’s also the place where we’ve built something extraordinary: a community that refuses to look away from injustice. With your help, we can take this fight all the way. My family’s lives are within reach, and together, I know we’ll get there.
This campaign isn’t just about me. It supports 26 people, including two orphaned children and an injured family member suffering from hemiplegia after being hit by shrapnel during a bombing. Surgery is desperately needed to replace the infected and failing plates. The needs are urgent, and the future of 26 lives depends on your support.
The video showing the injured family member is shared before in this post: Link.
Please help us ! Donate and reblog this post to spread our story.
Vetted and shared by @90-ghost: Link.
Verified and shared by @el-shab-hussein: Link
Listed as number 282 in "The Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser Spreadsheet" compiled by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi : Link
Listed on the Butterfly Effect Project, number 957: Link
Additionally, Al Jazeera News has documented apart of my family's case: Link
If, for some reason, you couldn't donate via GoFundMe, you can donate via PayPal instead. Please keep the conversion rates in mind when donating through GoFundMe. Every 100 SEK is equivalent to 10 dollars, and 200 SEK equals 20 dollars and so on.
Note: There’s even a raffle for a handmade Palestinian thob if you want to participate : Link
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don't look back II l.williamson
don't look back II l.williamson
your body clock putting in a shift lately you weren't surprised to see it was hours later than you thought you'd be up, leah of course still very much dead asleep beside you, back turned and you could see her shoulders rising and falling a little the only sign of life.
you turned and attached your body to the defenders, slotting your leg in between hers and placing a tender kiss to her bare shoulder blade, the blonde not even stirring as you called her name softly a few times.
when a gentle approach didn't work, leah's eyes still shut and not even a grunt sounding, you sat up and shook her a few times, a tired exhale and some mumbled gibberish in response.
"lee, baby come on, wakey wakey." you cooed, poking at her cheek as the older girl scrunched her nose and grumbled something, pushing your hand away and scooting across the bed right to the very edge, clearly trying to move away from you making you scoff.
"leah how often do we both have the whole day off? it's like midday, we're running out of sun. please get up!" you groaned, shoving your girlfriends limp body as she sighed heavily, once again pushing your hands away.
"cmon don't be a pest babe, just let me sleep for a couple more minutes." the blonde mumbled tiredly, arms snaking around her pillow as she pulled it closer, eyes not even flickering open.
"you can sleep when you're dead leah. come on lets go for breakfast, coffee on me?" you scooted over from your side of the bed and ducked down to kiss her cheek a few times, getting nothing but silence in return.
"leah catherine!" with a huff you grabbed the extra pillow from the floor, sitting up and repeatedly whacking the older girl in an attempt to get her to stir.
you knew she'd been out late with the team last night after a big win, but mid season it was rare she'd drink enough to have this bad of a hangover, though you also couldn't quite remember what time it was she even joined you in bed.
"you're so annoying man. just fuck off and let me sleep if you can't lay here with me!" the defender snapped harshly, finally opening her eyes and snatching the pillow off you, hauling it to the other side of the room and turning onto her stomach with a grun.
"seriously? you're in this much of a mood? what did you do drink the bar dry last night?" you scoffed, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes down at her, rolling them at the singular middle finger which popped out in response to your question.
"m'not hungover, m'tired."
"leah you haven't even let me sleep in the same bed as you without a pillow wall for the last couple of weeks. i'm gone of a morning when you get up and you're gone of an afternoon when i get home. we both have the day off, and isn't the point of a relationship that you want to actually spend quality time together occasionally?" you accused, glaring down at her where her eyes remained firmly shut.
"need i remind you love the pillow fort is because we made a pact no more sex till the end of the season because it tires me out. and cause you've been on a weird sleep schedule with switching out from working nights. if you get in here with me and even so much as touch my thigh, one of us will crack and then it's no stopping from there, its a few more weeks babe you'll live." leah sighed, arm extending out and smacking around blindly until she found your leg, giving it a little squeeze in what she likely assumed was supportive, but really you were more than a little hurt by her blunt honesty.
"right. so I'm basically only here to fulfill your needs when you're horny, run to and from collecting your shit when you leave it laying around and can't find what you need, cook your meals, do your laundry and clean the place up when you trash it because you can't keep it tidy enough to find anything?" you started in disbelief.
"so basically i'm a glorified maid? yeah perfect enjoy your sleep in leah, maybe i can find someone else to give me a kiss every now and then, wish me good morning and grab a coffee with me like i'm not some chore." you spat, swinging out of bed and making a beeline for the door as your girlfriend hurried to sit up.
"no no hey babe wait you know that's not what i meant-" the girl started with a sigh, running a hand through her hair and pausing for a moment, blinking with a wince as her eyes adjusted making yours roll.
"actually no you know what? i don't need to explain myself you know i love you and just because i want a lie in on my day off doesn't mean i don't. stop being so sensitive!" the defender blew it off, flopping back down and turning her back to you.
even further in disbelief at how little this seemed to bother her and that she'd seem to only hear half of what you were saying your mouth was open and ready to really let her have it, all the two of you seemed to be doing together lately was to argue anyway.
but not bothered for the sharp tongued comeback which leah wouldn't mean but would no doubt hurt your feelings even more you decided to leave it.
pulling on a pair of jeans and a hoodie, grabbing the first shoes in reach you left, making sure to slam the door behind you to really send a message.
the winter chill settling in you looked back at the front door, contemplating going back for a jacket or a vest of some kind but with a sigh you decided against it and ran a hand through your rather disheveled hair.
really the only person first and foremost you wanted to talk to right now was leah, and when you'd first started seeing one another it seemed that all the pair of you did was talk.
for hours and hours you covered every topic big and small, you'd often even fall asleep on the phone together, playful teasing following the next day about whose fault it was you were both so exhausted after staying up much later than needed.
you were a paramedic so you were much more well adjusted to a lack of sleep than leah, in fact you weren't sure if leah actually could survive without eight hours a day, well warned by the blonde herself that she was not a morning person and incredibly grumpy.
though you seemed to be the exception to that, leah waking up purposefully early to meet you after your night shift for breakfast, bringing you flowers and showering you with compliments that had your ears turning red and her face painted with a victorious grin at the sight.
you'd always heard of the 'spark' of a relationship dimming, especially from older married coworkers who complained about a lack of romance and spontaneity, feeding this back to leah who would always reassure you with a soft kiss that only happened to 'boring old people'.
yet here you were drowning in the same reality your girlfriend had always gone above and beyond to assure you would never be so, quelling your fears and anxieties with her undivided attention and unconditional love as much as she could spare it.
sometimes you'd think back toward the first year of dating leah and your chest would hurt, all of the romance and the dates and the late nights and the flowers, and you found yourself wanting to scream for taking it all for granted.
nowadays it seemed you and leah were no longer dating, merely...co-existing perhaps? you couldn't quite pinpoint when the 'spark' had begun to dim but what was once a fully lit bonfire was now barely a smoldering ember and the worst part of it was how blind leah was to that even happening.
so though you craved your girlfriend, there was really only one person you felt like going to talk to now.
~
"so you're hanging out with me on a day off." your best friend commented as she sipped at her coffee seemingly amused.
"meaning?" you raised an eyebrow curiously, the blonde smiling with a small shrug. "i love you, but i am not normally your first call for a friday coffee anymore." alessia chuckled as you flushed pink with embarrassment.
"hey i'm just joking, unclench." the striker teased, kicking you under the table seeing the apology about to be hurled her way and the obvious worry in your eyes that she was actually upset.
"i've had years of coffee's with you, you know i've quite enjoyed the break really." the blonde hummed as you now kicked her and rolled your eyes, a small smile playing on your lips.
"so not that i don't like seeing you, but i'm guessing there's a reason you called? you don't seem yourself." alessia guessed, tone softening and laced with concern as you sighed heavily. "oh its that bad? right come on then." the girl stood, nodding for you to follow her into the living room.
you wasted no time leaving your coffee on the side table and flopping down on the couch you'd slept on a few times now after other arguments with leah, though back then they'd usually blow over by the morning where she'd pick you up with flowers in the front seat and a hundred texts apologising.
but lately your arguments had been different, more personal, more hurtful, you knew one another like the back of your hand and as beautiful a connection that could be, it also meant that leah knew every little insecurity and doubt to pick at in order to hit you where it really mattered.
"okay. let it out!" alessia made herself comfortable in the armchair she'd dragged to sit across from you, legs crossed and somewhat resembling a therapist as you laid down on the couch and exhaled, taking a pause before word vomiting what you'd been holding in for weeks now.
"-and now its like she doesn't even care if i'm there or not, so why am i even there?" you finished, throwing your hands up as the room fell silent and alessia seemed to take a moment to process everything.
"oh my god she's your captain and your team mate and your friend less shit this wasn't appropriate!" you had a sudden realization as you sat up panicked and the blonde hurried to sit down next to you.
"hey hey no, it's fine, breathe." alessia inhaled and exhaled deeply as you copied her, nodding once you'd managed to slow your heart rate a little.
"yes leah is all of those things, but you've been my best friend since you cried at the school gate on the first day of school and my mum made me come over and ask if you were okay." alessia teased as you groaned and covered your face with a pillow.
"less that is not how it happened!" "that is absolutely how it happened."
"but meaning, leah is also my best friends girlfriend, and besides who was it that introduced the two of you anyway?" alessia reminded as you exhaled and she yanked the throw pillow from your grip, tossing it to the floor.
"i love leah yes, but the way she's treating you isn't okay. you're way more than just something warm she comes home to or someone who pairs up her socks and does her laundry." alessia squeezed your knee as you puffed out air in an attempt at a chuckle.
"she really is terrible at keeping her socks in pairs."
"you're also the girl in the stands she looks at every time we do the post game lap, and who makes her smile at her phone like an idiot, who she is always proudly boasting about and why she lies about needing to leave training ten minutes early so she can pick you up food before you get home from work." alessia smiled sadly which you returned, sighing when you realized you couldn't actually remember the last time those things had happened.
"but, i really think you need to tell her all of this though. i love you but you do sometimes think people can read your mind and know how you're feeling without you expressing it in the slightest." alessia poked your forehead as you huffed.
"thats not to excuse how she's been acting, but i think she needs the wake up call of hearing from you how she's been acting is actually making you feel." alessia promised as you nodded, the blonde pulling you in for a hug as you sighed and rested your head on her shoulder.
"i love you less." "i love you too, even if my mum forced me to be your friend." "that is not how it happened!"
~
pulling into the driveway you cut your car off and took a moment to collect your thoughts, having been driving around rehearsing what you wanted to say for awhile now until you'd charged up the courage to go through with it.
letting yourself inside you were surprised to see leah had actually moved from the bed, head turning to look at you from where she was sat on the lounge watching something, draped in a vintage arsenal tracksuit.
"you're back! babe where'd you go? i texted you, no reply." the blonde shook her phone at you, clearly having paid no mind to the argument you'd had this morning or else her first words may have been an apology, but you on the other hand weren't letting it go that easily.
"oh sorry i went to go and learn how not to be so sensitive." you pouted sarcastically as her once happy expression dropped, but you ignored it and walked off to the bathroom.
"christ i look a mess." you mumbled, wincing at the bags under your eyes and looking around for your brush to pull through your semi knotted hair.
"hey love come on don't be like this, i didn't mean what i said." leah rasped, arms encircling your waist from behind and resting her forehead against your back with a hum. "you know how i am in the mornings. how about we go for lunch yeah?" leah suggested as you rummaged through the vanity cupboard.
"fuck off leah." you muttered, pulling her arms off of you and finally grabbing your hairbrush, trying to walk off but her hand grabbed your wrist tugging you back toward her.
"babe i'm really sorry, you know i love you more than anything." the defender husked quietly, grabbing your other hand and interlacing your fingers, bringing your palm to her mouth with a kiss and a soft smile that normally would melt you like butter.
but today, all it did was make you angry.
"of course you do. i do whatever you want, whenever you want it. we fuck when it suits you, i go to your games, go out with your friends, come home from working a twelve hour shift and do your washing so you have a clean uniform for training." you wrenched your hands from hers and poked at her chest with every accusation.
"but when i want to actually spend a night sleeping with my girlfriend and have her touch me in a way thats filled with love and not just lust. thats not okay because you're like some horny teenage cretin who gets a metaphorical boner when i touch your thigh? we're both in our twenties and sleeping with a pillow wall between us, do you know how ridiculous that sounds leah?" you laughed but it was one of desperation and panic, not a drop of humor to be found.
"so i'm here for what? moral support? to look at? to play with when you're bored?" you questioned rhetorically, shaking your head and throwing your brush to the floor, making a beeline for the bedroom as you heard her scoff behind you.
"i am trying to make up for this morning and trying to show you that you're so much more to me and you won't even look me in the eye. if you don't want an apology then what the fuck do you want?" leah called out, tugging at her hair in frustration as you paused.
"what do i want? how about my girlfriend back i'd fucking love that leah, because whoever this is-" you spun around and paused to gesture at her. "-sure as shit isn't my girlfriend, or at least the one i remember falling head over heels in love with." your tone dropped in those last few words, pausing to squeeze your eyes shut and take a breath.
"baby i'm still here. i'm still me. i'm still your girlfriend and last time I checked you were still mine." leah replied with an air of confidence that made your stomach drop, really solidifying for you that she may have been listening to you but she wasn't hearing you.
"really? because last time i checked when you have a girlfriend you go on dates with them, you make time for them and you actually enjoy that time with them." you shook your head and threw your hands up.
"and you hold their hand, and you talk to them about anything and everything because you want to. you kiss them out of love and not obligation, you say good morning and goodnight and when you lay in bed with them you can hold one another without it turning into sex. and when it does turn into sex it's supposed to be filled with intimacy not just a quick fuck with no feelings attached and where you ignore the person afterwards and put up a pathetic pillow wall leah!" you spat, wiping a single angry tear that escaped.
"and if you can't see that lately you haven't been acting like my friend let alone my girlfriend, then maybe I should go stay with my parents and wait for whenever my girlfriend comes back, because I miss her leah." you finished as your voice cracked and your chest heaved with shallow breaths, waiting for her to say something, anything.
but when the silence became suffocating you shook your head and made your way to the front door. throwing it open you gave one last look back and could see the blonde begging you to stay with her eyes.
but you didn't want a look, you wanted words. words you knew she'd say after you were gone, words she thought you wanted to hear and that would get you to return to her but wouldn't contain any actual substance.
words that would come through voicemails and text messages and that would kill you to ignore, but if she wasn't hearing you through words, maybe silence was the only way to get through to her.
"i'll come back for some of my stuff later, goodbye leah." you muttered dejectedly, forcing your eyes away and stepping outside.
you paused to take a breath before wrapping your arms around yourself, giving the comfort and hug you'd been after from the blonde behind you for far too long now.
maybe your girlfriend would come back to you, or maybe she wouldn't.
#leah williamson imagine#leah williamson x reader#leah williamson#woso x reader#woso#woso imagine#woso blurbs#woso fanfics#woso community
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Being in an Established Relationship with Jayce and Viktor • Headcanon
(Gif not mine)
Request: I am desperate for more Jayce x Viktor x Reader content! Would I be able to request headcanons for what an established relationship with them would be like?? 🥺 -- @spatialwave
Warnings: gn!reader, first time writing arcane and jayvik so I hope it's all good!!
A.N: Andy (@spatialwave) has inspired me so much so PLEASE go read their beautiful writing! You need to understand I got this request LAST NIGHT, I just had to bang it out I was writing like a FIEND. I loved writing this so much, I hope to write more in the future!! Hope you enjoy!
•
Being in a relationship with Jayce and Viktor is like being a part of an old married couple that simultaneously bickers all the time and is just falling in love all over again every day
Jayce is like a ray of sunshine on a summer afternoon
He's clingy--but not overwhelmingly so. Jayce just has to have some sort of body part on either of you at all times (except in the lab unless he's feeling especially in love that day)
He loves putting his arms around your waist, chest pressed up against your back and lips ghosting over your neck. Jayce is a bit more subtle with Viktor, since your other partner prefers smaller touches, so their fingers are always tangled together. Some days Jayce will even sneak his hand into Vik's back pocket, making the slimmer boy light up red from the neck up
Jayce is also the type of boyfriend that will always have you two on his mind. He picks a flower from someone's garden to give it to you because "the vibrancy of its color reminded me of your eyes," or buys a little knick knack for Viktor because "I thought you would find it hilariously stupid" (Viktor will put it on his already cluttered desk at the lab because Jayce was right, it is stupidly funny)
Jayce will always get an A for effort because even if he can't remember how you like your coffee or tea, it's the thought that counts
Has bigass puppy dog eyes and he fucking knows how to use them against you two
All he has to do is look between you and Vik with those golden eyes are you're both putty in his hands
Speaking of being putty in hands, Jayce is the cuddler of the relationship
Which is good because he is also the space heater of the relationship too
Will basically have Viktor curled up on one side and you on the other. His face will be buried in Viktor's hair, placing sleepy kissed on his scalp. His fingers will rub circles on the small of your back. Jayce is the best pillow and blanket in all of Piltover AND Zaun
Viktor, on the other hand, is like the moon at midnight
He loves the both of you in a slightly different way than Jayce
While Jayce is more touchy and exuberant with his love, Vik is certainly more subtle, though that doesn't mean he loves you two any less
He is actually exceptionally smitten with you and Jayce. It's like his walls come crashing down whenever you two are with him. He could come back from having a disagreement about a project with Heimer, with his jaw clenched and brows furrowed, and then he'll spot you and Jayce in your shared apartment and it all melts away
Viktor isn't carrying the world on his shoulders with his partners around him. He knows that you guys will lift the hefty weight from his shoulders
While Viktor isn't as touchy ad you or Jayce, he shows his presence in other ways.
Viktor will always have at least one eye on you at all times. It's not that he doesn't trust you two (on the contrary, you two are the only people he trusts with his life), he just needs to know his lovers are ok
Jayce could be tinkering with something in the lab and 50% of Viktor's attention will be on him. Making sure he doesn't shock himself or mix the wrong chemicals together. And if that does ever happen, Viktor drops everything to help him. He masks his worry with wit, but the mask is transparent for you and Jayce
Viktor is also the one with the extreme attention to detail. Your coffee or tea is always right and always the right temperature in the morning. A scarf is always hanging on the coat rack near the front door on chilly days for you. Puts a bookmark in the book you're reading when you unexpectedly fall asleep reading on the couch
He is so big on being a gentleman. Will open doors for you two, pull out seats during a nice dinner. Also is the type to lift up your hand so he can kiss your knuckles (he knows this drives you wild and he struggles to hide a smirk at your heated face)
The three of you are witty and biting and funny in your own ways, quips are basically thrown around every hour of the day. The day isn't complete without someone rolling their eyes. Teasing knows no bounds--the apartment, the lab, a fancy dinner, in front of councilmen and women--doesn't matter
Every day you feel lucky to have these two as your partners, you really hit the jackpot with them. They're caring and attentive and loving in ways no one else is
And they feel the exact same way
•
#arcane#arcane x reader#arcane x you#jayce talis#jayce talis x reader#jayce talis x you#jayce talis x viktor#jayce x viktor#viktor arcane#viktor x reader#viktor x you#jayvik#jayvik x reader#jayvik x you#arcane headcanons#arcane fanfiction
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My reaction to this comic. I literally waited ALL day to come home from work to take this picture because this was just too real and raw for me not to be real myself to show how much it shook me
so face reveal sorta?
I can’t tell you how much closure I’ve received watching this 😪🙏🏼🫶🏼🧡
✨Note to self: Isolation is not the answer✨
This ended up way longer than I originally anticipated but I have no regrets, I also got carried away in one too many shots and regret none of it
Enjoy!
part1 | part2 | part3 | part 4 context: 1 / 2/ 3 / 4
After calming down the two of them just sit down and talk about it, Oneion explains everything more calmly, all the messures his brothers have taken to prevent him going into Survival Mode along with the ways they've find out to snap him out or fully stop him
(From then on Sprout has a high voltage taser intalled on his prostethic, just in case)
This is pretty much it on my part for the whole OneOne-Toast fight aftermath situation! Ell did a thing with One and Poptart too!
I also have some more Sprout and Oneion doodles, they are not connected to this event but I might post them over the weekend
#*cracks knuckles*#time to get feral in the tags again because I have something’s to SAY#first things first#*clears throat* words will never be adequate enough to accept my true feelings in this matter so please accept my humble keyboard smash#heycbelxheudkchwuegfkcisvwmwifufiepbsgxnsvdhsjfhrvwidmchdushevwosichnrbsufndg#But on a more serious note#this was such a good and hard video to watch#for school I’m studying human development and relationships and one big thing we talk about is the power of attachment styles#You know you can actually tell which people have which attachment styles through the type of humor they use fun fact.#But that’s besides the point. The point is Oneion is showing strong symptoms of Avoidant Attachment Style#he says he’s trying to protect Sprout and Poptart which I 100% believe he is but he’s also trying to protect himself from hurt + heartbreak#Motto of the Avoidant Attatchment Style: I’ll hurt you first before you hurt me#Poptart over here leading out the charge and calling out Oneion for his unhealthy isolation is literally everything to me EVERYTHING#BECAUSE THATS HOW YOU SECURE RELATIONSHIPS: THROUGH CONNECTION#Doesn’t matter who you are#nobody is ever meant to do it all by ourselves. We are PEOPLE AKA multiple for a reason. We need each other#As someone who is been in recovery from unhealthy attachment styles for something + years this comic was very cathartic for me#because Poptart and Oneion conversation is LITERALLY two of my brain cells at war with each every. single. day. It’s…exhausting#So it meant the world to me to see closure like this because it kind of gave me hope for myself that hey maybe I can figure it out too#hope it’s ok that like I got emotionally attached to y’all’s characters.#But like…I can’t tell y’all how much I have healed being apart of the turtle family because y’all have taught me so much + I 🧡 U 4 it#just being jayus#serendipity247#slau crossover#2al#the besties#separated leo au#pretty random turtle thunks#doing this ugly and scared
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Hold me, love me, touch me, honey be the first who ever did
Future spouse turn on +18
☆ How to chose your pile?
First clear your mind, take a deep breathe and close your eyes. Ask the question in your head "what will turn my future spouse on about me?". And shall the picture you are drawn to the most will be your pile.
☆ Disclaimer:
Please if you are under 18 do not interact or reblog this reading. This content is explicit and is not for you.
This is a general reading so don't put your life on hold for it. Also, this reading is written for the feminine (women, girls) if you are masculine or identify as a man this reading is NOT for you. This reading is for the feminine collective.
▪︎This reading was done using Raider Waite tarot deck and sexual magic tarot deck.
Lots of love 💕
Arya
Pile 1 - sleeping beauty
Your current energy
I feel like this pile’s energy is quite saddening. I see that you had a project to work on and nothing went as you hoped which made you clash with your team members and caused something unpleasant to face. I see that you feel quite empty and insecure towards your own thoughts. You have many creative thoughts to offer and you are so passionate about them but I see that because your team didn't listen to you or do anything you say it left you feeling unimportant or like a "chair's leg" idk how to explain it but they made you feel like an empty vase. Also you might have been feeling quite stuck and gloomy. I see that lately your self-esteem has dropped and you feel like nothing matter or you don't matter anymore. I'm so sorry for that pile one you deserve absolutely the best. Your thoughts and ideas are valuable and if someone didn't take them seriously that doesn't mean that they don't matter. Also, I see that you might be under a psychic attack or telepathy so be careful. I see that this person who is attacking you is quite naive and they are doing it with their whole will which means they know exactly what they are doing. I see that you are trying to get over them like your mind is trying to wash them off but they are like an ink stain that doesn't really go away. But eventually it will so don't worry. For others (people who are under psychic attack or telepathy) this person is trying to communicate telepathically with you so expect them to show up in your dreams or receivesigns from them. I see that what is between you two is not finished yet. You may see that everything has finished buuuttt it is not. This person may come with a love offer and communicate with you very soon. They may be working on themselves right now. Anyways the period of stagnation is almost over or it will be over by the end of this year.
☆ Placements for you:
Pisces, Capricorn, Taurus, Gemini, Libra, Cancer. Or you have Neptune, Saturn, Mercury prominent in your chart. Or you have 12th, 2nd, 10th, 7th, 3rd, 4th house stallium or your sun moon is there. I see also moon in cancer and saturn in libra.
☆ What will turn your future spouse on?
Right off the bat I see that your future spouse will be in love with your breasts. I see everything related to them. Massaging them, sucking them, grabbing them. They also looovvvee how the bra shape them especially corsets and push up bras and also they love how they look with no bra soo ;) anyways. This person is so down bad for you like they are an animal for that part. I keep hearing the song "Addicted to you by Shakira" weird I never listened to that song before but when I described the song to my sister she gave me the name. Also, your waist and belly button. They like how your waist is shaped. I see also that you are this person's dream girl. They see you as the empress, their empress. They like how beautiful you are whether you think it is true or not. I see that they see you the empress to their empror. I also got the collar bones too. Your spouse is going to see you as something so beautiful and otherworldly. I keep emphasizing on the upper body especially the breasts and waist. I see also that they like watching you getting undressed after an event or a party. They like your whole naked form too but mostly your breasts. They also like your size too, no matter how big or small you are they think that you complete them and the chemistry is off charts. I see that you guys may have wonderful sexual chemistry like you two can't keep your hands off of each other. You see those couple who gives off the vibe that they fuck every two minutes? You are like that pile 1 they adore you. This person also gets horny by the fact that you are intimate with them and only them. They get horny or turned on by dim lights and you getting undressed in front of candle lights. Also this person might get horny when you guys hug. They just feel soo hot and bothered whenever you are around. Their love language may be physically touch. They even get horny when you set on their lap too. I see that they might get turned on when you are applying lotion, perfume or even cream on your body they get weak in their knees.
I hope you enjoyed your reading💕.
☆ Placements for them:
Taurus, Capricorn, Aries, Leo, Cancer, Pisces. Also they have moon, Mars, Venus, Neptune prominent in their chart. Sun or moon or stallium in the 1st, 2nd, 5th, 4th, 12th, 10th. Venus in Aries, mars- moon, Venus- ascendant aspects in synastry.
Pile 2 - Woman posing
Your current energy
I see that you might be stuck on someone with Aquarius placements. I see that you have finally made peace with them and you feel kind of imbalanced by that. I see also that this person kept you stuck and out of place. I see also that you are in a place right now where you can't see the truth and you are very conflicted. This confection is keeping you feeling restless and tired. I see that you are fighting internally your anxiety about them. I see that this person knows how to tick your boxes and keep you on edge. Pile 2, this person's intentions aren't fully good towards you. I see that they are only here for fun and good times but believe me it will only end up with disappointment so be careful. I see that this person is manipulating you into thinking that they are so tired and can't live without you but they are not. They know that you'll get back to them, I see that you need to stop giving them the validation that they seek because each time you return to them it make their ego bigger. You are worthy of more than that pile 2. Also, the energy under the bottom of the deck is quite wicked. This person is doing everything in their power to torture you and manipulate you.
☆ Placements for you:
Aquarius, Pisces, Taurus, Virgo, moon in sagittarius, mars in leo, Venus in scorpio, Sagittarius, Venus in Aquarius. Venus, Uranus, Neptune, Mars, moon prominent in your chart or stallium in the 11th, 12th, 2nd, 6th house in your chart.
☆ What will turn your future spouse on?
I got a lot of 10s in this pile so I guess your spouse really feels turned on by the fact that they are making a family that is going to leave a legacy behind with you. Also, this person really gets turned on when you surrender to them, I see a lot of submission. Doesn't mean that they are dominant but they generally love to see you under them. They might be a soft dom. They won't force you to do anything against your will. This pile is quite vanilla, I see a lot of fluids here. They might feel turned on by your sex fluids or they generally like to play with it. They also get turned on when you tease them. This person is foodie, I am picturing the image of Louis and Peter griffin when they were feeding each other fruits in this scene check it out if you want to. You might feed each other grapes and fruits in general. I'm not getting this person enjoying a specific body part at all. I feel like they enjoy your presence during the act more. Also, they get turned on when you hug them tightly. I feel like this person is quite traditional, they enjoy it when you make dinner for them. I see them getting back from work were you are dressing up nicely and making them a very delicious dinner. Also, this person is into sexting. I see them getting very horny when you are teasing them with your nudes. Idk this person respectively is very traditional and vanilla. I see also that they are very mature emotionally. This person get turned on by eye contact and deep conversations they might spend hours making love and they last very long.
Enjoy your reading pile 2💕.
☆ Placements for them:
Leo, Mercury in virgo and sagittarius, Pisces, Aquarius, Venus in virgo, mars in Aries. Dominant planets in Mercury, Mars, Neptune, Uranus. Stallium/ sun or moon in 1st, 6th, 11th, 12th, 9th house in their chart.
Pile 3 - Lady with flowers
Your current energy
I see that this pile is surrendering to the divine. I see that you are trying to enjoy your life as much as possible. I feel like you are living in a routine, there's nothing much honestly. I see that you are anticipating something. I feel like you want something new in your life, something to break the routine without creeping you off. I see that you always lean towards routine and structure but somehow you desire change. I see that you want change but you are very resistant to it which is creating chaos energetically. Pile 3, set with your self and decide what exactly is holding you back from the change? What is scaring you this much? Writing this down can be really helpful I order for you to acknowledge what is wrong. I see that this duality of wanting change and fearing it is keeping you stuck and confused. But at the same time you are looking forward, you are looking for a sign from the universe or God to intervene and change it. You are deeply feeling optimistic about tomorrow. I see that your energy is quite happy and warm. You might have walked away from something that kept bothering you and now you feel like that thing have no power over you right now. I see that there might be a small health issue that faced you in the previous weeks like cold or fever. But you got better thanks to God or the Universe.
Placements for you:
Sagittarius, Gemini, Cancer, Scorpio, Taurus, Aquarius, Aries. Also, I'm picking up on Mars in Aries, Venus in scorpio, Moon in scorpio. Venus, Mercury, Sun, Mars, Pluto as dominant planets in your chart. Stallium in the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 8th, 11th house.
☆ What will turn your future spouse on?
Well first you got triple 888 which never happened in my readings. It means that you are going to experience infinite abundance with your spouse. I see that this person at first will be soft and sweet. They will make love to you softly, they will demand nude pictures of you and they will masturbate to it. They have breeding kink, they will imagine having a child with you while they are masturbating. They are going to make love like there's no tomorrow but as the relationship preced they are going to get scary honestly. I see that they are going to share their sexual fantasies with you. They will ask you to role play with them and the roles are going to be quite dark. Like, they might role play a r*pe scene or something very dark of course with your consent if you are comfortable with that type of stuff or not. With each day that pass they will show their kinkier side to you. I see them using their belt or whip on you. There will be hair pulling too, and heavy BDSM. I see that they will escape reality with you into the bedroom I see them really praising and encouraging you afterwards. They also might tie your hands. I see wax play too, this person is very naughty and kinky I can't with them. This pile’s future spouse might get turned on by pain. I'm picturing Angelina Jolie when she stabed her boyfriend to feel pleasure while they are doing it. This person might get horny when you are in pain. They might cause you pain too. This person is giving Christian Grey, I see that they like being in control and doing heavy stuff to their partner. Idk pile 3, if you might get uncomfortable with that try to communicate with them. You don't have to face all of this. Also, I see that this person will see you as their lover, I got the lover card and Judgement twice which is quite unusual. I see that it might mean that this relationship is meant to awaken something in you, something you are ignoring.
Enjoy your reading pile 3💕.
☆ Placements for them:
Air placements (Libra, Aquarius, Gemini). Mercury in sagittarius, and water placements (Cancer, Pisces and scorpio). Mercury, Pluto, Venus. Stallium in Air placements or houses and Stallium in water placements.
Pile 4 - Woman looking at the stars
Your current energy
I see that there's someone in your life that is spreading rumors about you. It might be a woman with leo placements or a man with Aquarius placements I'm not sure. I see that they feel very jealous of your achievements and how graceful you are. I see that you are the type of person who is very beautiful. You might be beauty with brains, someone who is very intelligent and smart. This person is spreading rumors about you and the cards are telling me that they will get their Karma so don't worry you don't have to do anything about it. The cards are advising you to have inner strength and calm down before engaging in any behavior that doesn't suit your public image. I see that you might be someone who is quite popular and known but very envied by others. Your skills and dedication are drawing the right people into your life and the right opportunities too. I see that if you are planning on traveling somewhere it will happen but also for that to happen you need to find closure and end a cycle in your life.
☆ Placements for you:
Leo, Virgo, Sagittarius, Aries, Pisces, Aquarius, Libra, Leo. Sun, Mars, Saturn, Venus prominent in your chart. Stallium in the 1st, 6th, 5th, 9th, 12th, 7th, 11th house in your chart.
☆ What will turn your future spouse on?
Okay, first thing is this person is very idealistic, very emotional and devoted. I see that they get horny when you tease them with your breasts like pressing them against him or showing them to him randomly make him sexually frustrated. I see that he gets really horny when they see you dressing up for them. A lot of emphasis on glam, they enjoy watching you dressing up, putting on perfume and makeup. You might be their type honestly. Like they were searching for someone like you and they found you soo it is a win win. This person is like pile 2, they are quite traditional. They don't have any weird kink at all. I see that they lean more to making love unlike pile 3 it was insane but anyways no judgment on my blog. I see that your ass is something that they like, they enjoy the size, shape and how soft and squishy it is. This person gets so horny when you are showering or under water. They see you as someone who is so ethereal like a mermaid. They like your body naked and wit under the shower. They might join you there too. I see that they really get turned on when you whisper in their ear and tease their neck. This person is in their head a lot when it comes to you. They might go to work and sit there imagining you two doing it nonstop and when they return home they'll be like a wild animal. He is so soft, like a soft dom again. I can't with him I try to provoke many cards but all I am getting is the cups suit which is linked to love and emotions. I see that this person is very emotional when it comes to you what matter for them is intimacy and how comfortable you are with them. Also, it keeps them going when you are in pleasure. They feel prideful when you reach your orgasm and moaning their name. Also, I'm getting Nikki Minaj here. He'll totally take it off of you after the party. Also I'm getting the song "something about you by eyedress, dent may" this person sees you like something so beautiful and ethereal. They have a lot of respect for you, they won't curse or cuss at you at all during sex. They see sex as something very sacred and romantic only shared between two people. They don't dare to call sex (sex) they'll say (love making) instead. This person is very poetic, they can and will write poems about you and set the right romantic mood for you two to enjoy.
Take care pile 4 💕.
☆ Placements for them:
Water signs (Scorpio, Pisces and cancer). Air signs (Aquarius, Gemini and Libra). Mercury, moon, Venus as prominent plants in their chart. Stallium in the 4th, 8th, 12th, 11th, 3rd, 7th house for them.
Post date: 24th of Nov -2024 Sun
* Feedback is appreciated
#free divination#free tarot#pick a card#pick a pile#divination#divination readings#metaphysical#tarot community#tarot pac#tarot reading#pick a picture#pick a photo#pick an image#tarotblr#pac future spouse#future spouse#future spouse tarot
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with all the power in oz
movie!fiyero x gn!reader, 2.2k words summary: the reader, rather anxious and studious, finds their self head-over-heels with none other than fiyero, supposed boyfriend to galinda upland. to placate this, they somewhat agree to meet him at the ozdust ballroom. a/n: YOU pronouns are used to address the reader, but there is no usage of y/n. just watched the movie today. tried to find a fic, couldn't. here I am writing one instead. reader worries a lot. so me. you're welcome. also, I'm going into this blind. I have unfortunately never seen the actual musical (downsides to living in the middle of nowhere) so I'm only going off based on wikis and the movie. it should be gn as I read through it like... five different times, but please let me know if I missed something!
Breathtaking. That's what he was. But could you truly refer to a man like him as breathtaking?
The very features that graced his face were absolutely mesmerizing, and you felt like a fool watching him at times. How could you not? He seemed so full of life, so full of... well, not a care in the world, really. It was as if he brushed everything off of his shoulders without hesitation.
You could only wished you were the same way.
No cares, no worries. How lovely that would have been.
No, you hold onto the things that happen to you as if you have no other way to live. You hold grudges, you think over things that happened years ago that no one could possibly remember.
For someone who wished to be a sorcerer, you had a hard time simply letting things go. Your emotions often got the better of you, even when you knew better. Even when you wished it could be the opposite. But perhaps that was the way of the world.
Not a man in Oz could tell you otherwise.
Books in hands, you crossed the path to your dormitory, brows cinched together in mild concentration.
You had a project in your history class, and an extensive paper to complete on the study of mathematics—of all the things you could have had, a paper in mathematics. You'd rather perform magic in front of the entire student body, but you couldn't.
As you walked, you heard your name come from behind you. Eyes flicker back, a soft frown on your lips. You see him—Fiyero. The one fool you meant to avoid with all the gumption within you.
You'd melt just being near him.
"Fiyero," you softly greet.
He gave you a charming smile, coming up to walk with you. "Heading back already?" he asked.
"I am."
"Working on the project, hm? We could work on it together if you'd like. I'm sure our minds could do wonders," he said, a playful wink coming from him.
"I'm fine," you simply said.
He blinked slowly, but his smile never wavered. "Come now," he said, your name leaving his lips rather sweetly. "Surely you're not going to spend the rest of your evening alone. Why don't you come to Ozdust tonight?"
You looked back at him, frowning. "Ozdust. Me. I don't think so, Fiyero."
"And why not? I'm sure you'd be as dashing as ever."
You stopped in your steps, eyes searching his for but a moment. "Dashing. Are you in earnest, Fiyero?"
"Yes," he said, smiling.
"And what of Galinda? You'll be with her. Why invite me?"
"She doesn't need to know. It's not her business," he said. "Besides, she will be busy with Elphaba. I'd much rather spend time with you."
"And I think you're just pulling my leg," you said defensively. You crossed your arms over your chest, careful to keep your books close.
"Pulling your leg? I haven't even touched you," he said, a cheeky grin on his lips. "Come now, don't play coy. You should come."
"And if I do?"
"Then I'll be quite happy."
You rolled your eyes and went to walk away.
A hand wrapped around your bicep, and you paused, glancing over your shoulder at him.
His eyes widened a bit and he dropped his hand, albeit hesitantly. Perhaps he didn't think he would actually reach out to you. He cleared his throat.
"I really would like you to be there. You'll have the time of your life."
"The time of my life," you repeated. "I don't think you realize how much I dread parties."
"Have you ever been to one?"
"No."
"Then how do you know you dread them?"
"I just know," you said. "I feel it in my bones. I know going will just get on my nerves."
He scoffed, placing his hands on his hips. "I think you're foolish for that," he said. "Come on. What are you losing? A couple hours to work on a project that you know you could finish in a morning session? You'll be fine. Come to the Ozdust tonight. I'll show you a good time."
You clenched your jaw. "I don't want—"
"—I would like you to be there. That is all. I won't ask again." He gave you another small smile before he looked away. "I'll see you around. Perhaps tonight?"
You stared him down. He would like to see you there? Was he being honest? And what of Galinda? Would he be going behind her back? Wasn't he madly in love with her, or something? Or was it the other way around?
He said your name once more, and you looked up at him, letting out a soft sigh.
"Right. Perhaps tonight," you softly said.
The smile on his lips was rather... hopeful than anything else. There wasn't anything smarmy by it. He seemed as genuine as the glint in his eye—the one he used when he spoke with anyone he trusted. At least, you hoped so.
The night came quickly as you finished up your outfit—one you would hope you didn't look completely foolish in. The color you chose seemed to fit well with almost anything, but you still worried. You always worried about something.
Time was of the essence. You weren't even supposed to leave Shiz University's campus, but here you were, sneaking like some scoundrel.
Well, perhaps you were, listening to the requests of a man who already had a girlfriend—a fantastically beautiful one at that.
But you paid no mind. You did what you could, and soon, you found yourself walking down the steps of the Ozdust Ballroom.
Never had you been in a place like this. It was almost... breathtaking, had it not been for the overpowering smells of perfume and some kind of drink wafting from the bar. Your eyes flitted from patron to patron until you finally spotted him—Fiyero.
He looked just as handsome as ever.
Good Oz, what in the world were you doing? This was foolish.
You took a step back, staring at Fiyero for a moment as he spoke with another man, drink in hand. You needed to leave. This was ridiculous. You were ridiculous! Never in a thousand years would you ever imagine yourself to do such a thing—
"You made it!"
Fiyero's voice rang out above the music.
You look to him, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. Because of course he saw you as soon as you had decided to leave.
Fiyero smiled and made his way to you, taking your hands in his, drink left with the confused man behind him. Surely he didn't just up and leave in the middle of his conversation.
You part your lips and go to speak, but to your dismay, Fiyero is instant.
"I was afraid you had changed your mind," he said. "You look ravishing, darling."
Your eyes widened. Ravishing? You'd been called many things in your life, but never ravishing.
"Galinda couldn't make it?" you asked.
"Wha—no, she couldn't. But what of it? I didn't ask her to the Ozdust, I asked you. I'm glad to see your face."
Warmth blossomed in your cheeks as you watched him. "Fiyero, please... I shouldn't be here."
"Oh, nonsense," he said, grinning all the while. "Come. Dance with me."
"But I don't—"
"—do not say you don't dance. I can teach you."
"Teach me?"
"It's as easy as breathing," he said.
"For you, maybe, but not for—"
"—humor me," he said, smiling.
You pursed your lips. Of course he had to give you that charming smile and the sweet bat of his eyelashes.
"I do not dance," you repeated.
"I think I will be the judge of that."
He grabbed your hands once more and pulled you out into the ballroom floor, smiling all the while.
"You'll be a natural. I can just see it."
"I feel like if I were a natural, you wouldn't have to teach me," you said, gasping as he pulled you close to his chest. His face was dangerously close to yours, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips.
"You know," he began, eyes flickering back to your eyes. "We all start somewhere, do we not? You should know that better than anyone."
"What? What does that—"
He interrupted you by spinning you by your arm, back into his embrace. The music was rather ambient, not quite one for dancing so enthusiastically, but Fiyero embraced it. Hand to your hand, face close to your face.
"See? A natural."
"You merely spun me around, Fiyero. Do not be foolish."
"You could have fell flat on your face," he said, a boyish grin evident on his lips.
"Stop looking at me like that," you defiantly said. "You are far too close to me for my liking."
"Oh, feisty, are we?" he asked, moving his body along to the music and forcing you to go along, too. You nearly stepped on his toes several times. "I do not think there is anything wrong with the way I'm looking at you. You're rather breathtaking, if I may."
Breathtaking. The same way you had described him only hours before. He wasn't a mind reader, was he?
No.
Of course not. That was foolish. He was merely a man. Nothing of great importance—no power within him other than the power he held in every single eyelash as they batted down at you, making you melt over and over again.
"What of Galinda?" you repeated.
"What of her?"
"You shouldn't be calling someone who isn't yours breathtaking. It's quite..."
"There is nothing wrong with admiring the beauty in front of me," he said, your name playfully leaving his tongue. "Look at me. Galinda and I are only friends."
You rolled your eyes. "Do not lie to me."
His eyes widened a bit. "Lie? I do not lie. We are friends and nothing more. Though I do believe she thinks differently..."
"She must," you said, huffing softly.
"But that does not make it true. I have eyes for someone else."
"Eyes for someone else?"
He tilted his head once more. He was rather endearing when he did that.
"Who did I ask to their very first party?" he asked, smiling. "It's quite a feat, isn't it? Afraid you wouldn't show, and then you do, questioning me and everything I stand for, hm?"
Warmth found its way to your cheeks once more. You looked away from him. With the crescendo of the music, Fiyero pulled you closer, fingers lacing with yours. His lips hover dangerously close to yours.
"You know, if you would just give it a chance, perhaps you and I could make some magic of our own."
You let out a curt laugh. "You—oh, good Oz, I hope you never use that line on anyone! Has that worked for you before?"
He gave a cheeky smile. "It seems like it's working on you."
"Absolutely not!"
"Not even a little!"
"No!"
His smile only seemed to grow. "Truly?"
You looked away, swallowing thickly. "I mean... no. Not even a little. Not at all."
"You're lying," he said.
"I am not."
"I do think I know what I'm talking about," he said, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to the soft skin of your cheek. "Come now," he said. "Stop with the lies."
You looked up at him, a soft huff escaping you.
"Fine. I lied. It may or may not be working. But it's not just because of what you said."
"Oh? Are you saying you like me for more than my suave words?"
"Suave words? Who in Oz said they were suave?"
He just smiled, his eyes flickering to your lips once more. "Do you think instead of just a dance, I could try something more?"
"Try what?"
"I think you know."
You blinked slowly at him, your fingers gently gripping onto his tunic. Your lips part in mild surprise, but you realize that you shouldn't have been. He'd been eyeing you the entire evening.
"Very well," you softly said.
"Wonderful," he replied, and in a swift motion, he pressed his lips to yours. It was short as he pulled back almost as soon as he had kissed you, but it was enough to keep you wanting more.
"Fiyero, that wasn't—"
"—come with me," he softly said, lacing his fingers with yours once more. "Somewhere without so many prying eyes, yes?"
Your answer was almost instant: "Yes."
Fiyero led you back up the staircase, and he didn't look back once at the ballroom.
"Where are we going?" you asked.
"Somewhere where I can see you and only you," he said. "If that's alright."
"Oh," you softly said. "Yes. That's alright."
"Then follow me," he said. "Do you trust me?"
You smiled sincerely for one of the first times in the evening. Did you trust him? What kind of foolish question was that? If you had the chance, you'd do whatever he'd ask of you. You found your answer rather quickly, knowing within yourself that it was far truer than any other statement you had ever uttered.
"With all the power in Oz."
#fiyero#wicked fiyero#fiyero tigelaar#wicked movie#wicked 2024#movie fiyero#movie fiyero x reader#fiyero x reader#gn!reader#Jonathan Bailey#wicked x reader#x reader#fanfic#wicked fanfic#fiyero wicked#fiyero wicked x reader#Jonathan Bailey fiyero
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I agree with all of this and I think a lot of people do too, which is wild because in theory, the consumer should have all the power.
The only problem really is that the corporations in the market have made a decision to act together and to remove all of these things from the market and to only supply the stuff that nobody really wants, This is because they enjoy bombarding us with ads, harvesting our information and basically being dicks.
The good thing, is that this creates a gap in the market, and so if someone has enough personal funds or venture capital, or is willing to take a loan, one can start a company that does make these things, or websites and all of that. And in theory, it should be a success because you will providing what nobody else is but also what many people want.
I suppose many people like myself have no real desire to manage a business, personally I'm a musician and that is my full time job but I'd like to think there are people out there who have always had a dream of being their own boss and are willing to make a company that caters to those that hate where the modern world is going, and I think there's enough people disgruntled in that manner to support said company(s).
So if you've ever thought about making something devoid of QR codes, digital cloud storage, a return to physical media or any of that, please go for it. World is turning to shit, might as well be a light shining in the darkness.
I don't know I'm not done talking about it. It's insane that I can't just uninstall Edge or Copilot. That websites require my phone number to sign up. That people share their contacts to find their friends on social media.
I wouldn't use an adblocker if ads were just banners on the side funding a website I enjoy using and want to support. Ads pop up invasively and fill my whole screen, I misclick and get warped away to another page just for trying to read an article or get a recipe.
Every app shouldn't be like every other app. Instagram didn't need reels and a shop. TikTok doesn't need a store. Instagram doesn't need to be connected to Facebook. I don't want my apps to do everything, I want a hub for a specific thing, and I'll go to that place accordingly.
I love discord, but so much information gets lost to it. I don't want to join to view things. I want to lurk on forums. I want to be a user who can log in and join a conversation by replying to a thread, even if that conversation was two days ago. I know discord has threads, it's not the same. I don't want to have to verify my account with a phone number. I understand safety and digital concerns, but I'm concerned about information like that with leaks everywhere, even with password managers.
I shouldn't have to pay subscriptions to use services and get locked out of old versions. My old disk copy of photoshop should work. I should want to upgrade eventually because I like photoshop and supporting the business. Adobe is a whole other can of worms here.
Streaming is so splintered across everything. Shows release so fast. Things don't get physical releases. I can't stream a movie I own digitally to friends because the share-screen blocks it, even though I own two digital copies, even though I own a physical copy.
I have an iPod, and I had to install a third party OS to easily put my music on it without having to tangle with iTunes. Spotify bricked hardware I purchased because they were unwillingly to upkeep it. They don't pay their artists. iTunes isn't even iTunes anymore and Apple struggles to upkeep it.
My TV shows me ads on the home screen. My dad lost access to eBook he purchased because they were digital and got revoked by the company distributing them. Hitman 1-3 only runs online most of the time. Flash died and is staying alive because people love it and made efforts to keep it up.
I have to click "not now" and can't click "no". I don't just get emails, they want to text me to purchase things online too. My windows start search bar searches online, not just my computer. Everything is blindly called an app now. Everything wants me to upload to the cloud. These are good tools! But why am I forced to use them! Why am I not allowed to own or control them?
No more!!!!! I love my iPod with so much storage and FLAC files. I love having all my fics on my harddrive. I love having USBs and backups. I love running scripts to gut suck stuff out of my Windows computer I don't want that spies on me. I love having forums. I love sending letters. I love neocities and webpages and webrings. I will not be scanning QR codes. Please hand me a physical menu. If I didn't need a smartphone for work I'd get a "dumb" phone so fast. I want things to have buttons. I want to use a mouse. I want replaceable batteries. I want the right to repair. I grew up online and I won't forget how it was!
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May I request some headcanons about Victor, selika, Vander and Vi about caring and being with a S/O with ADHD.
Please and thank you
Arcane characters with an s/o that has ADHD. | Viktor, Sevika, Vander and Vi
Thank you for your request, and I hope you'll enjoy this!<3
Content: No spoilers for season 2, season 1 Viktor, established romantic relationships, fluff, sfw
Reader has no set pronouns.
((Not proofread))
》VIKTOR
He was the first to notice and accommodate to your ADHD, mainly as he knew what it's like to live with something that makes life a little harder in general.
Viktor is very patient and gentle with you when you're having a hard time focusing on tasks or are procrastinating on projects. He understands it just fine and works with you to find strategies that make everything a bit easier. Whether it's studying with you or helping you out on research papers, you both spend a lot of time together, to say the least.
You two enjoy working on your own things in eachothers presence, as it helps you get over your lack of motivation and gives you a chance to talk his ear off freely. Thankfully, he's good at multitasking when it comes to you. Some may think your talking is excessive, but he finds it cute.
Whenever you're a bit more fidgety than usual, he'll hold your hand or give you a reassuring smile, yet doesn't stop your body from regulating itself naturally.
Viktor takes your diagnosis as a simple fact, nothing that defines or undermines your ability to be his s/o. If you need a little help, then he's very clearly okay with that.
》SEVIKA
She doesn't initially understand the concept of ADHD and doesn't care much about it either. Sure, she gets that it affects your day to day life, but she was going to help you out with anything either way even without the diagnosis. So, in other words, she's ready to learn and do as you please.
Your fidgety nature was something she definitely had to get used to, as she mistook it as fear or nervousness rather often. This typically meant that she'll ask you if you're alright a lot or if there was someone bothering you. Over time, she learns to look past it and see it as a natural part of you. If you can't sit still, then she'll let you roam around whilst her eyes watch you closely.
Your endless ramblings and deep interests about the most nichest topics also needed some time for her, but what got her the most was your procrastination issues. She did get not want to do things at all, but she would still attempt to make work as fun as possible in her own way. She'll accompany you everywhere and take care of the heavy lifting.
When she said that she was loyal, she was definitely not kidding around. Your ADHD changes nothing about the way she views you, and so she doesn't make a big deal out of it either.
》VANDER
Probably the most patient and understanding of your ADHD and its symptoms by far. He sees them as a part of you in a good way and simply accepts them as they are.
Whenever you procrastinate on chores or work, he'll try and make it more enjoyable by either helping out or promising you a nice treat after. If it's really bad, though, he'll just do things himself to not stress you out about them too much.
He's the same with your lack of focus, although he sometimes does get concerned about you zoning out when things get serious. Vander will still find his own innovative ideas on making you focus when he needs you to.
He loves listening to you talk to him about the most random things possible, mainly as it shows him that you're comfortable enough with the care he gives you. He also just enjoys weighing in with his own opinions about the many various topics you bring forth at rapid speed.
Either way, he skillfully navigates your diagnosis with ease and doesn't ever let you feel like you're burdening him with it.
》VI
Well, she certainly may have outlandish ideas at times when it comes to working with your ADHD, but she definitely at least has the spirit for it!
Your natural fidgeting and inability to stay still gets interpreted in you just needing to power yourself out. This makes you often find yourself in front of a punching bag with an excited Vi telling you to go ahead and let it alllll out. Whether it works or not is up to you, but you appreciate the effort even after you had explain it wasn't that easy.
Vi will make it her mission to help you out on projects or with work whenever the procrastination gets too bad. She'll also help you out with simpler tasks when she can but will otherwise try to make things fun, at least.
You two enjoy rambling away with each other, and it is her favorite thing. You're both bad at focusing on one topic at a time, so your talks can go on for hours, which she loves very much.
Your diagnosis is just a part of you that she very much loves, even when it gets difficult at times. She never wants you to feel left out or liked less because of it and does her best to never let you think that.
#arcane#arcane x genderneutral reader#arcane x reader#arcane x y/n#arcane x you#arcane viktor x reader#arcane viktor#viktor x reader#viktor arcane#viktor#arcane vi#arcane vi x reader#arcane vander#arcane vander x reader#vander#vander x reader#arcane sevika#arcane sevika x reader#sevika#sevika x you#sevika x reader
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𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 | Lucien De Leon x reader
↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi
summary | it was never a favor, allowing him to take up space in your apartment. but, time after time, he finds his way back and somehow, it brings an unexpected normalcy to your life.
author's note | in my heart, it's still flores. but canonically its de leon. i had the opportunity to watch the movie and hot take, it was...alright. but pedro's character made me just as feral as i expected. so here's this absolute monster for no reason other than, well, me ovulating.
content warning | 18+ mdni, the uninvited spoilers, set post-movie, roommates to lovers, enemies to lovers, reader works in the film industry, financial hardship, shitty living situations, lucien is a schmooze and a drunk, but also a sweetheart, angst, feelings, reader has shit luck with dating, there's also smut in here somewhere i swear (oral, couch sex, unprotected piv, all the good stuff)
word count — 11k (sorry lmfao)
“Lucien?” You grumble around the chewy granola bar you’ve snatched from the craft table, “Lucien De Leon?”
The agent, Lucien’s agent—James, also working for a few of the on-set cast, looked hopeless.
He nods, squeezing tight at the phone in his hand, one more inconvenience text from snapping it in half.
“No,” You refuse, chewing at the sweet and sticky granola, “why—why me? My tiny apartment?”
“He’s exhausted any other chance,” The agent explains vaguely—yeah, real convincing, this guy, “listen—I like you, you’ve helped me in plenty of binds. It’ll be two weeks before he’s leaving for work, I just need somewhere to keep him for a while.”
“You’re making it seem like I’d be dog sitting or something,” You retort, watching as the agent glanced down at his phone, notifications spilling in, “this is Lucien—controversy magnet, and he’s rude—”
“You’ve gotta get to know him—”
“The one set I’ve worked on with him he spilled my coffee on me and acted like I made him do it. Fuck him, tell him to sleep on a bench.”
“I’ll pay you,” He scrambles, “Just—please?”
You pause, narrowing your gaze. Being a production assistant hadn’t been the life of luxury, minimal pay in an overpriced city in a shitty apartment with barely decent and affordable rent was nothing short of miserable.
“How much?”
“A thousand,” He offers—a shrug of uncertainty follows.
Silence stretches.
“Two thousand? Come on–that’s a thousand for each week.”
“Make it three and you’ve got a deal.”
The agent is quiet for a few seconds before he caves, sighing heavily, “Fuck, fine. Three. Can I drop him off tonight?”
“Tonight?” You balk, “You know, you’re actually the worst.”
His hands grip your shoulders, shaking you with far too much force than needed, “You’re a lifesaver, thank you.”
He’s long gone and buried in a phone call before you grumble a disgruntled, “You’re welcome.”
-
You consider later that evening that disclosing the recent…activities around your apartment complex would have been a good idea, especially with someone as high profile as Lucien taking up space in your one bedroom apartment.
Three break-ins in the past two weeks, noisy and unruly neighbors both above and sandwiching you—it wasn’t exactly peaceful or safe, but it was something.
You wait with a creeping anxiety as you tap your chopsticks against the homemade ramen you’ve made for yourself, one true moment of happiness in the day as you’re finally sitting down to relax, feet aching terribly.
It was coffee runs and constant back and forths over forgotten supplies or paperwork—it was the perfect job to keep you active and on your toes, never sure when someone might blow up on you for whatever reason it may be—you were nothing special, helpful, but when it came down to it, you were more or less in the way, so you often made yourself small out of habit.
The knock that startles you is hurried, like a panic. It sends your heart rate skyrocketing but your name echoes on the other side of the door, scrambling to open the door, you’re faced with two men.
The agent, James, a decent man despite his unorganized and erratic personality—and Lucien, a piss poor disguise covering his face.
You snort, addressing the ball cap and sunglasses with an amused expression, it was doing nothing to cover the instantly recognizable wispy brown hair of his and aquiline nose—the upcoming king of stage and screen. It was a wonder he even made it here in one piece.
“A natural chameleon,” You joke, widening your door to let them inside—the apartment was clean, thankfully. You’d scramble to get home after work and pick up, given you didn’t have much time to actually prepare, “seriously—get inside before someone clocks you.”
The agent stays though, like his feet were planted.
“He’s all yours,” He tells you, “you’ve got my number—don’t let him leave. I’ll check in when I can. Keep an eye out for paps.”
“Hey, no—” You interject, watching as the agent turned on his heels and departed, “we didn’t agree to—”, turning the corner with a shout of a long, helpless, “that!”
You sigh with a deep frown, turning over your shoulder to find Lucien with a chopstick in hand, noodle dangling from the utensil with a curious face, sniffing it cautiously.
“Hey!” You chastise, plucking the chopstick from his fingers, “Stop that.”
He looks at you curiously, obviously taken aback by your tone of voice and lack of intimidation by him, like a startled cat.
Jesus, okay.
You force a calming breath through your nose and look up at him, “Would you like some?”
“Is it gluten free?” Lucien inquires, peering over your shoulder at the still steaming hot bowl of soup.
“Actually, yeah,” Your brow furrows, “it—it is.”
“Sure,” He shrugs, beginning to remove his cap and glasses, along with his jacket, resting them haphazardly on the kitchen island as he takes a seat on the only other unoccupied barstool in your kitchen.
“Oh no,” You swiftly rectify his actions, “we’re not doing this—there’s a coat rack for a reason and a shelf by the door for things like,” You walk toward the front door, hand circling the object like a cherished belonging, “keys—sunglasses, hats,” You stress the final two words and point at the items before jutting your thumb frustratingly at the door, “—if you don’t mind, while I make your dinner.”
It was clear he’s spent most of the past several years with people ready and waiting on him, never questioning or ordering around, but it was basic human decency, you weren’t going to allow him to be amiss to it.
He obliges quietly, a surprise to you. You hide the satisfied smirk as you pour the broth into the bowl along with the noodles before placing the bowl on his side of the island, placing another dish near him, scattered with different toppings.
Lucien looks silently intrigued, the ends of his mouth curling down in interest as he sprinkles various toppings over his food, beginning to eat silently as you return to your own meal.
After a long enough silence and Lucien’s occasional slurping you decide to set a hard boundary, given the various personalities you’ve dealt with in the industry, it was you being proactive out of habit.
“Let me be clear, I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart,” You inform him, locking eyes with his intense stare, something you hadn’t forgotten, not since the on-set incident, “This is still my home. Don’t be an asshole about it.”
“James said you were a firecracker,” Lucien smirks slightly, resting his chopsticks along the top of the bowl, “and a little bit of a bitch, but—”
“Good, he hasn’t lost his mind then.”
“Don’t worry, I’m a professional at this shit now. You won’t even know I’m here.”
Highly unlikely, you think.
He even makes a point by grabbing his bowl and emptying it before placing it in the sink before extending his hand out to your own bowl. You watch him wash the dishes, something that looks unnatural, but you aren’t going to complain.
“You always cook like that?” Lucien asks curiously over the running water, head turning over his shoulder briefly.
“No, only Friday. I never have time otherwise, work is…busy,” A generous way to describe it, but Lucien doesn’t seem to care or question, drying off the last dish before extending his hands out by his side in a grand gesture.
Maybe he was expecting a roaring applause, but you don’t give him the satisfaction. You offer him a genuine thank you but it doesn’t extend beyond that before you’re trailing a few feet over toward the living room, a clean pillow and blanket draped over the couch, along with a fitted sheet if he felt like using it. It was all unmade, allowing him to set it up himself.
“Also,” You clasp your hands together at your front, “James didn’t mention this because I didn’t tell him but we’ve had a string of break-ins for a while now, so—always keep the deadbolt locked. Please.”
His eyes widen, looking around the apartment for the quickest escape. You were on the seventh floor, the only other escape option was a less than reliable balcony that you barely used.
“I have a bat,” You tell him, before pointing toward the door beside the entrance, “in the shoe closet, but I think we’re okay.”
“Think?”
You shrug, “It hasn’t happened yet, but the police have shit response time around here.”
Lucien looks overwhelmed, but nods.
“Oh, and the neighbors like to have really loud sex—walls are thin. Have fun.”
“No puedo creer esta mierda—” He mumbles under his breath as you turn your back, a sharp flap of a sheet, and a short laugh from you follows.
“Blame your agent, Lucien.”
He didn’t think you’d understand him, but your astute hearing proved otherwise.
Lucien was putting on an act with his gesture, clearly.
He doesn’t respond, pouting his way through the process of setting up his new bed for the next couple weeks in silence, ignoring the soft click to your door as you turn in for the night, the creeping and soft city noises filtering in through the thin apartment walls.
It wouldn’t be an easy night but he's never really liked big, empty houses anyways.
—
The weekend is uneventful; you fear it might be a dream, too good to be true, a complete fluke.
Maybe he had a change of heart overnight, but Lucien is overly polite.
He deconstructs his bed both mornings, packing it away in a corner of the living room, listening to the television at a reasonable volume with fresh coffee in the coffee pot, he cleans up his dishes and leaves a marginal mess.
The real kicker—he has the ability to keep the toilet seat down with your now shared bathroom attached to your bedroom, a real…gentleman.
You eyed him suspiciously most of the day, when he’s unaware and preoccupied, wondering when the facade would drop. Does he even remember the coffee incident?
He had to, right?
He approaches with a silent gesture of his emptied cup as you fill your own.
Fine—you pull the cup from his grip and fill it to the brim, sliding it back over carefully.
He sips gingerly as he raises it to his lip before speaking, “S’good coffee.”
“Thanks,” You answer nonchalantly, pouring a generous amount of sugar and cream into your coffee and stirring, watching as the dark black lightened into a soft brown, “are you a coffee guy?”
“I’m an anything guy,” Lucien responds, “but—good, it’s good. I’m impressed.”
“Why?” You ask with a little more bark than needed, a flippant tone rounding out your morning irritation as you readied for work. “Are you—you really don’t remember, do you?”
Lucien raised his eyebrows in question, expectant.
“Your last job, up in Hollywood Hills. You spilled coffee all over me, blamed me, then got me suspended for a week, because of your outburst. I barely managed rent that month”
His eyes narrow, recollecting the thought like he’d been stricken with temporary amnesia.
“You’re all so much of the same, y’know?” You continue, sipping generously from your cup as his face relaxes, following your movements with a casual glance. “Cocky, egotistical, little dicked men. Without me you wouldn’t have that ridiculous fifteen dollar hyper whateverthefuck water you insisted you needed in your trailer, or your dry cleaning? God forbid. Seriously, fuck you.”
“Wait—” Lucien staunches, hold his hand up in pause, “hold on—”
You wait for approximately half a second before you roll your eyes, pushing beyond him to gather your bag and keys, “You know, I don’t need a disingenuous apology. I’m not doing this as a favor. I’m being paid.”
James had lied to him, that much he was figuring out as he processed the situation. You weren’t someone offering up free charity, a helping hand for a starving actor in need—except that wasn’t the case for him. Despite his team's careful guidance; he was a repeat offender of bad choices and money management, a part-time alcoholic, and a serial flirt. He knew how to play his hand and he was good at it, but with you—it was clear that you were a challenge.
But, it was only a couple weeks. He could survive that. He was a people person first and foremost and he’d charm the hell out of you if given the opportunity.
“James said he’d be by in an hour to pick you up for your meetings today—lock the door when you leave. Please.”
Still speechless, he watches you leave with a stiff, crisp shut of the door.
He couldn’t remember, racking his brain for one incident after another. His own fair share made him cringe in hindsight, but he…couldn’t remember. He’d almost hoped you were a fresh face, leaving him free of judgment, but it was clear that this situation was about pure survival.
-
“You did do that,” James confirmed to him as they left the first brand meeting that morning, “It was the morning of the big awards show—you remember?” He doesn’t wait for Lucien’s response, continuing, “Poor kid got her ass chewed out and had to take a trip to the clinic for the burns. It was…a mess. Never cried, though. I’ll give her that.”
And, like a strike of a match, it floods back. You’re shocked expression, mouth slightly agape as the sting of pain settled in, bracing for the impact of Lucien’s wrath because you knew. A man allergic to accountability, oozing power, it was almost too easy.
“Shit.”
“Yeah. Apologies seem pointless now, but it could help. But…be genuine.”
“I’m genuine.”
James gives him a certain look, one that argues otherwise.
“I am.”
Only time would tell, really.
By the end of your work day, it was with great relief as you stepped through the door of your apartment until you remembered one fine detail you had told Lucien more than once.
Lock the door.
The eeriness hits you as the door clicks shut behind you, the place falling into a dead silence for a brief moment, your bag hitting the counter as you maneuvered your keys between your fingers, ready to take on what you could with what little strength you had to offer.
Just maul their face off, that seemed like the best option.
You count the seconds in your head, breath held tight and constricted in your chest. You quickly check the available pathways—living room, kitchen, before slipping down the hall, left with the only room to flee if not away from your apartment.
Bedroom light off, not a thing out of place, pristine even—but your eyes track toward the bathroom light seeping underneath the gap in the door. With careful, measured movements you approach the door although you haven’t thought through the actual process of what you wanted to do.
But, before you can react the door is swinging open as the bathroom is plunged into darkness, revealing a sopping wet Lucien, towel tied tight around his waist as he slings a smaller one over his shoulders, completely relaxed until he spots you.
Both of you scream—you out of anger and fear, Lucien at the incoming hand that he snatches by the wrist, your eyes landing on each other, your nostrils flaring in frustration.
“You’re insane!” Lucien shouts, shoving your hand away, “You nearly tore my face off.”
“I thought you were an intruder,” You seethe, “—what kind of maniac showers with the front door unlocked while home alone?”
“You said you had a bat,” Lucien excuses, “I could have defended myself.”
You sigh, plucking the keys from your grip before you toss them on your bed, stepping away from Lucien and away from the radiating heat of his body as it glistened, obnoxiously.
“Get out,” You snap, “get out—go—”
“I was just gonna…grab my clothes and come change in,” He weakly gestures toward the bathroom, earning a sharp look of distaste in his direction, “alright—alright, Jesus.”
He pauses for a moment, though. Before the lightbulb clicks on and he’s scrambling into the living room and back in record time, shoving a small white envelope into your hands.
“What is this?” You ask tensely, blindly ripping at the seal as you stare at him.
“It’s uh—what I owe you, for the coffee thing. I…I remember now. Figured I could pay you for the work I made you miss…is that about right?”
You peer at the wad of cash. It was indeed, enough.
“You’re unbelievable,” You reply, shaking your head.
It gives him false hope, wondering if it was all going to be brushed under the rug and that he could continue the rest of his stay in a somewhat semblance of peace, but then your expression flips and oh…that’s not…
“Are you physically incapable of saying the words “I’m sorry”—would it kill you? Allergic to accountability? God, you know what, I’m gonna call James and tell him I just can’t do—”
“No,” Lucien panics, hand around your bicep as you attempt to push past him, immediately recognizing the fierceness of his grip he loosens it, calms himself, “no—please, listen…I…I didn’t think you’d care enough to hear it. I do remember now and I was a dick, I was trying to offer a gesture of good faith. Peace, even?”
“Is this even your money?” You ask curiously, brow furrowed as you help up the envelope.
“Yeah, yeah—I pulled it out of my savings. Why? Do you…not want it?”
You quickly snatch the envelope away, “No, I’ll take it. But, words mean a lot. Like calling me an ignorant little bitch.”
“Okay, okay. I am sorry. I had a lot going on and I know that isn’t an excuse either, but I am.”
You tilt your head in examination, peering through the raw emotion on his face, whether he was putting on a masterclass in acting or not, it was believable enough. You could remain bitter, even if it meant suffering in silence, but you liked the peace just as much as he, so you compromise.
“You still have to get out,” You inform him, walking your fingers tauntingly toward the door, “and I swear, Lucien, if you used all the hot water—”
-
Lucien was insistent about rehearsing at least five hours a day, even on weekends. Luckily, most of those days you were spared, but when you’re barricaded away in your bedroom, sound travels. And Lucien doesn't care much to stifle his performance, maybe it was a weapon to backfire at your inconsiderate neighbors, but it was driving you insane.
He’s stuck on one scene, clearly a building tension that explodes and apparently he can’t nail, having heard the lines a hundred times over through the muffled walls—your first instinct was to complain, tell him take it elsewhere, but you remember your deal with James. Lucien just needed a place to stay for a while and this was his job.
Eventually, you poke your head through your bedroom door with a cautious expression, watching Lucien examine his face in the mirror, filing through various emotions before he finally gives up, tossing the script against the counter.
He spots you as he turns, already gearing up to apologize or maybe even excuse—but instead, you speak.
“Is it for an audition?”
“How’d you know?”
“The yelling, the emotion—I guess? I help on set with self tapes from time to time. I’ve learned to spot the difference between just memorizing lines and trying to feel the script.”
Lucien pushes his lips out in thought, tongue rolling over his teeth as his hands settle against his hips, pushing the sweatpants lower on his hips as he stands, deliberating.
“Just ask,” You tell him.
“You any good?”
It was a genuine question, not meant to attack your own ego. Besides, it makes you laugh.
“I’ll get your good side,” You promise him, surfacing from your room as you beckon for his phone with your hand, getting straight to work.
It only takes a few minutes to find a solid place to set up, against one of your cream colored walls, pictureless and plain, but with ample lighting from inside and out, it highlighted the wispy grays in Lucien’s untamed curls hanging over his forehead, the wrinkles creasing there as he looked down at the script and examined the text.
“Do you have them memorized?”
Lucien nods absently, his finger trailing down the side of the paper until it was suddenly gone, snatched from his hands with a smile on your face as you pointed for him to slide into frame. You take a step back, watching the screen with a careful eye before motioning with a finger for him to move a few centimeters to the left, “There. Perfect.”
You flatten out the creased paper as you speak, “From the top?”
Lucien smiles halfheartedly—the stress washing from his face for a moment—and nods.
–
You could keep up, that much was obvious.
Lucien is used to the monotone voice on the other side of the camera during auditions, forced tones and half-cocked emotion, it was hard to act against and with, but he’s learned to push through for the sake of a role.
It was an emotional scene, almost a requirement to have that intensity to act against and Lucien caught your eye line at one point, face buried in the script as you uttered the lines with teary eyes, letting your own emotion fill you to the brim and flow out, giving him a real and authentic reaction to act against.
He watched it back with a grin, mostly out of his own cocky admiration for himself but the secret you’ve been hoarding, a welcome surprise.
“Have you never considered acting?” Lucien asks curiously, emailing the video off to his agent.
“Cameras are daunting,” You shrug, folding and filing away some freshly washed towels as Lucien reclined on your couch, “I prefer being behind them.”
“You’re a natural,” He offers honestly, “that’s really rare.”
You shake your head in amusement as you riffled through the unfolded laundry, separating in different piles until you come across a no longer white blouse, stained a soft pink—and of course, Lucien. It was Lucien who offered to take laundry down the night prior, needing a moment away from being cooped up in the apartment, swearing he had it under control.
“I told you not to put this in the wash load with the colors! Look at this—” You held up the obviously stained blouse, crumpling up the fabric and tossing it to the couch with a frustrated huff.
“To be fair, it’s been years since I did my own laundry,” Lucien responds casually, “—don’t worry, I’ll have James buy you another.”
Your face twitches, actually twitches.
“No, no—it…it’s fine. It’s only a shirt,” You tuck a loose hair behind your ear as you heave the towels into your arm, “just—whites and colors, always separate them.”
And while living with Lucien had mellowed out some, it was still tumultuous at times.
Fighting over the bathroom was a regular occurrence, both of you guilty. But, that could be worked through, it wasn’t the end of the world. Occasionally it was the lights, a bad habit of Lucien’s to leave them lingering in his wait, lamps and fixtures, nothing was safe. Opened cabinets, items forgotten and out of place. It was all tedious and frustrating, picking and choosing your battles as they came, brushing far too much under the rub for the sake of peace.
You knew it was almost over, enjoying a quiet night to yourself while Lucien was apparently out at dinner—you weren’t sure, you didn’t really care, but you enjoyed the glimpse of what was to return to you, tucked away on the couch while half-dressed, hand stuffed into a freshly popped bowl of popcorn.
It was Friday and your neighbors never failed to come home from a rowdy night of partying with everything but sleeping on their mind, getting straight to business and your grab for the remote was immediate, turning up the volume to drown out the obnoxious moans and groans of drunk sex happening on the other side of the wall.
Lucien arrives back somewhere near the middle of the movie, the soft laughs from you pulling his attention to the couch as he clocked the nineties rom-com on the television, your cheek resting against your balled up fist, placing his wallet against the counter to signal his entrance.
“Loud enough for you?” Lucien jokes, approaching the singular piece of furniture in your living room, fingertips pressing against the arm of the couch as he takes in your appearance, shirt barely reaching beyond mid-thigh, thick socks keeping you warm as you curled in on yourself, careless that Lucien was definitely looking you make a noise in question, the words processing in a delayed manner.
You reach for the remote, pausing the movie briefly to reveal the reason; the insistent thump of wood against cheap sheetrock and moans, squealy and high-pitched, forcing a raised eyebrow from Lucien that needed no words.
“Nevermind,” He concedes,hands thrown up in defeat with a chuckle hidden behind his teeth, walking closer to examine the screen, filing through his internal rolodex of films and drawing a blank.
“Are you going to keep standing there like a total weirdo or are you going to watch the movie?” You ask with a joking tone, tucking your feet underneath you as you made room, glancing down at your phone as a notification brought the screen to life.
Lucien catches the faint tug of a smile on your face as you type away, clicking the phone into sleep mode a few moments later before continuing the movie without a word.
You’re not sure which one of you succumbs to sleep first, but it didn’t matter, finding that you both aligned together easily as you slept, covered with a blanket that Lucien must have snatched somewhere near without disturbing you—and when you wake in the middle of the night, complex quiet throughout, you can’t even find it in you to move.
–
Lucien’s length of stay was diminishing quickly and you were relieved, only a few more days and things would be back to normal, you’d be three thousand dollars richer, and you wouldn’t have to confront the fact that Lucien wasn’t entirely as bad as he seemed, temper aside.
You’re both on your way out the door on a weekday morning when you spot him, navy blue hoodie draping his body, one you favored because of its size and comfortability.
“That’s mine,” You utter as you’re fisting your keys into your hand and tucking a makeup applicator away in your bag, “that’s…mine—why is it on your body?”
Lucien looks down, perplexed. He could’ve swore…
“It’s mine, I swear,” You’re peering over his shoulder and pulling at the collar, examining the tag by his neck, or lack thereof—you always cut them out, hated the feeling against your skin.
“It’s mine,” You say with finality, “But, it’s fine. I’ve been meaning to replace it anyways. And now that you’ve worn it, definitely.”
“Ouch,” Lucien chuckles, shaking his head at your bluntness, “I guess I deserve that. I did think it was mine, though. Swear. Must’ve gotten mixed up somehow.”
“Oh, well, just burn it now—oh, shit, before I forget,” You point your finger at his chest, stopping him in his tracks, “I’ve got a date tonight. I’ll more than likely be gone when you get back here. I’m leaving a key under the mat, you know the deal. Respect it…protect it like you give a shit if anything happens, it’s all I have.”
“Date?” Lucien teases, “Sounds—”
“We’re not doing this,” You cut him short, finger raising higher in reprimand, “don’t do that.”
Again, Lucien values his well-being, so he admits defeat.
It was difficult for him, his eagerness to please and charm, to command the conversation and impress—but with you, it was impossible. Truly, it was mesmerizing to him.
It was several hours later when Lucien arrived at the apartment, pointedly locking the door behind him as you had reminded him several times—he wasn’t completely aloof.
His orders takeout on a whim, disguised under a fake name and the careful directions to leave at the door, having practiced the art of subtly when it came to laying low, enjoying a couple beers from a pack James had bought him as a small celebration for a week of good, decent meetings.
Things had been looking up recently and it made Lucien unsettled in a way, but thankful nonetheless, sipping at the beer generously and relaxing well into the night, dusk turning to black skies and few twinkling star lights, drowned out by the thick smog of city pollution. It started raining eventually, a soft pattern picking up gradually and he, for natural reasoning, is slightly concerned. So, he stays up despite some lingering exhaustion, barely hitting a quarter beyond eight o’clock when the door handle rattles, soft curses on the other side of the door that send him to his feet, peering through the peephole to spot a sufficiently blurry outline of you.
And what he opens the door to is not what he’s expecting, although, he wasn’t even sure what he was expecting in the first place, but this…it wasn’t it.
You were wet, clothes dripping and rain water pooling at your feet, everything sticking to you like an uncomfortable glue, cold and shivering, your bottom lip trembling.
Without thinking, Lucien shifts into action.
He doesn’t ask a single question, not at first. Silently pulling the items off of you as you allow him; keys and purse first, clanging against the counter before he’s pulling your coat of, blouse, even kneeling down to remove your shoes before he’s carrying the clothes to the bathroom with you in tow, turning on the shower until it was steaming up the mirrors, heat radiating through the room as you pulled at the button of your jeans weakly, fumbling with cold and feeble hands.
He holds his hands up, careful not to approach in a way that would startle you or force you into attack mode, which seemed unlikely with the disheartened look on your face and he asks quietly, “Do you need help?”
You’re quiet for a long, tense moment before you nod, trying to quell the full body shivers as he assists you in stripping down to your underwear, also soaked. He pulls the curtain back and helps you over the side of the tub with the solid weight of his hand and speaks again despite your silence, “I’ll wait in your room—do you need anything?”
It doesn’t take a genius to piece things together as Lucien settles against the edge of the bed and it angers him for some forlorn reason, a feeling he hasn’t experienced in a long time. When the shower cuts off, he straightens, hesitates—should he leave?
You’d want privacy, right? Yeah. No, definitely.
He rises to his feet without another thought, his awful timing sending you straight into his chest as you swung the door open, towel snug around your body and smelling sharply of fresh, citrus body wash.
“S-sorry,” You stammer out, “you don’t—you don’t have to wait around, Lucien. Or give a shit, either. I don’t expect you to and I don’t care—”
It was unusually cold. He’s become familiar with your snark, that sharp and cunning personality, but this was different. This was a push, a defense of hard and impenetrable walls building up before his eyes and he speaks without thinking, hoping that it slips through the cracks.
“Regardless, I’ll listen,” Lucien provides—it wasn’t an overwhelming expression of fake, forced care or, god forbid, love. But, it was a raw enough response that it grabs your attention, “—if you want me to.”
—
He cranked up the heat while you dressed, flipped open his leftover takeout, and listened. You weren’t used to this and for a while, you were half-expecting him to find a way to turn the situation on himself, a sob story for a sob story. But, he doesn’t.
“This sushi…” You savor the taste, eyes falling closed.
“Good, isn’t it?” Lucien smirks, popping another into his mouth with careful precision, chopsticks in hand.
You could cry, it was such a strong and startling feeling that it caught you off-guard, “Yeah, really good.”
You clear your throat, tears shoved aside, “Have you ever ditched a date before?”
Lucien shakes his head with a subtle frown.
“Right, Lucien De Leon,” You respond jokingly, that magical emphasis around his name, “any woman would be dying for all of….this,” You gesture to him lazily with a faux disgust that couldn’t even be forced, both of you divulging into a laugh.
“Hey, you said it,” Lucien shrugs with a pointed wink that you shouldn’t find so attractive, but the natural charm he emits makes it impossible, “—but, no. Can’t say I have.”
“Even the ones who wouldn’t put out?”
“At the risk of sounding like an asshole—“ Lucien begins, but you follow the rhythm of the conversation and it isn’t long before the lightbulb strikes on and you’re nodding.
“Right, you probably don’t have an issue in that department. Stupid question, sorry.”
You pluck the last piece of sushi off the styrofoam and chew, speaking behind your hand, “I should’ve known that dude was a prick, only stared at my tits the entire date.”
Out of reflex, his eyes drag to your chest and you click the movement in an instant, “Not helping,” You warn him lightly, “I guess I was too blunt, he kept…touching me. I told him I didn’t feel comfortable going back to his place, he made some excuse to go to the bathroom and I waited for a half hour. Until the server came by with the bill—so, not only did he ditch me, I paid a hundred dollar tab and I didn’t even eat my food.”
Even in Lucien’s wild days, he couldn’t imagine doing that. Not when he was drinking more heavily, partying, hooking up on a daily basis—before his first failed marriage, it was foreign to him.
“You could’ve called me, or James, shit—an uber.”
“Phone died,” You shrug lamely, “it doesn’t matter, anyways. And don’t get me wrong, casual sex—it’s fine, but I got too hopeful, I guess. All men are the same.”
“Come on,” Lucien jests, “that’s not fair.”
“Fine, enlighten me, then.”
“You can’t expect fairytale shit—I mean, I’m one failed marriage and plenty of missteps in my life. Do you think I’m a bad guy?”
“Do you want me to answer that honestly?”
Lucien sighs in defeat, scratching at his mused hair as he tosses the empty food container aside.
“I’m fucking with you,” You offer in a quieter tone—even if you weren’t friends with him, he didn’t have to put in the effort to help or listen, but he was, “I’m—just, thank you.”
“I’m in good graces now?” Lucien asks curiously, that playful mischief gracing his face with a smile.
You make a motion with your hand from your head as you grab, like pulling a thought and throwing it away, “Coffee incident? Forgotten—unless you pull some heinous shit.”
“You know, I might actually miss this,” His finger does a swirling motion, encompassing your living room, “you—eh,” a shaky hand motion that earns a jab to his thigh from your foot, “shit, ouch—that was a joke.”
“I know,” You concede with a smirk, “—I won’t, though. I want my couch back. And my bathroom.”
“If it makes you feel better, I think you’re a catch,” He tells you, “although, I do like the ones that bite, so—“
You reach forward this time, swatting playful at his chest with the back of your hand, but his fast reflexes beat you, your fingers smacking into solid rings.
He snickers softly and examines the grimace on your face as you pull back, “Pobrecita,” He coos mockingly, reaching for your hand and pressing a gentle kiss against the skin, “see what I mean?”
You ignore the heat that strikes through your body like a freshly lit match, pulling your hand away with a distinct eye roll.
He’d be gone soon and this would all be a ridiculous memory to think back on.
There was no room for newly evolving feelings, or worse, infatuation.
—
The three months you spend falling back into your normal routine is monotonous, safe, but the kind of security that has you itching for change. You find yourself checking on Lucien more often than you should, regular social media checks, the occasional subtle question to James when you happened to catch him on set. It wasn’t healthy, but you couldn’t help yourself.
He did seem more erratic, often coming across other quick clips and social media stories of him at the club during waking hours, pure reckless abandon, he was having the time of his life—you couldn’t blame him, but it was…slightly alarming.
It was a Saturday night when all hell broke loose, police sirens raining down the street as you raced to your open window, peering down at the obscured face of a man in cuffs as he was roughly shoved into a police car before there’s a pounding knock at the door, your heart nearly bursting out of your chest at the sound.
Turning on your heels and swinging the door open, you can’t help but find yourself speechless at the sight.
“Think they caught your burglar,” Lucien notes under his baseball cap, eyes catching the cascading red and blue lights outside your window, duffel bag at his feet and a regretful look on James’ face.
You tilt your head at the discovery, your brain working overtime before your eyes widen.
“Just hear him out,” He pleads with prayer like hands, phone sandwiched between two begging palms, “Lucien—go,”
Lucien seems to stutter-step in his mind, not expecting to be the one leading this proposition as he side-eyes James, “I…need a place to stay…again,” Lucien squints his eyes and stares up at the ceiling, looking almost embarrassed, “for the next six months.”
“No,” You nearly shout out incredulously, “the first time wasn’t a trial run.”
There’s a long moment of tense eye contact and uncertainty.
An underlying worry in your gut at the sight of Lucien, a little worse for wear but still mostly himself, gripping tightly at his carry-on bag in his hand, thumb rubbing nervously at the leather strap.
Goddammit.
–
He’s paying the entire six months of rent he planned on staying there while he filmed for a movie they were shooting a short ten minute drive from your complex, a quaint little studio gracious enough to let the crew film free of charge—he’d given you the whole spiel, in one ear and out the other still wondering how you’ve tangled yourself in this web again.
“Can I just ask you one thing?” You inquire, helping him file away some of his clothes in a drawer you had emptied out for him like this was normal. He makes a soft noise of acknowledgment with his lips pursed together, tired sunken eyes staring back at you, “Why not get your own apartment? A house? I mean, you’ve got the money?”
Lucien clears his throat, scratching at his neck where it jostles his chains, fingers slipping under the silk fabric of his shirt, “I, uh—feel weird…livingalone,” He rushes out, quickly turning to grab more clothes as you stand, hand placed against the top of your dresser as your brow furrows, feeling like you’d just fallen deaf.
“Come again?”
A small huff as Lucien passes a stack of expensive shirts, material that had to be ethically sourced or…some bullshit like that, he’s told you the story before in passing.
“I don’t like living alone, ‘s why I float,” He offers lamely, tossing the empty duffel into the corner of your room—you’d pick it up later, it didn’t matter, “I left all my old stuff to my ex-wife, it was easier that way.”
Often you had to remind yourself that Lucien was older, nearing his late forties while you were still managing through your late twenties, a big thirty on the horizon.
It dawns on you then that you don’t know much about Lucien at all outside of tabloids and gossip sites, the rumor mills running through Hollywood—you often find yourself reminding you of the fact he was still a person, with troubles, clearer now more than ever.
“It wasn’t always like this,” He assures you, “I’m a fuckin’ mess, I already know.”
“I think we’re beyond judgment, Lucien,” You assure him, “You saw me sobbing and nearly naked—just keep this place clean, like you give a shit about it, alright?”
Lucien nods dutifully, “Yes, ma’am.”
–
You learn quickly that his long term stay meant that little quirks were beginning to surface—always organizing your things out on the sink opposite of his own, a small gesture that didn’t go unnoticed when you were rushing out the door on days he wasn’t given a call time. Or how he always made sure there was food waiting when he arrived before you—takeout or not. He wasn’t a great cook, but he could manage.
In turn, you tried to cook more often. And he loved to hover, but not with a homey, warm feeling that made you feel safe, rather like a curious dog nipping at your ankles. And more so, he would finish his own plate before looking cautiously at your own before you nod, allowing him to pick from your plate with a greediness that made you giggle under your breath.
“My ex-wife never cooked,” He had told you once, “I mean, she tried—but she was terrible. And this,” His tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek as he steps at the homemade ravioli, “is there anything you can’t do?”
“Say no, apparently,” You gave him a solid once-over, a look from head to toe—he’s never offended anymore, taking the playful jest in stride, it had already been a month and it was beginning to feel like normal, again, having him there.
Your conflicting schedules meant a lot of time away from each other, which wasn’t bad. It almost helped more than you expected and while your apartment wasn’t well-fit for a roommate, Lucien made the place feel less empty.
You couldn’t say it out loud, but you were starting to understand the charm. You could see beyond the facade and the persona—a troubled man with ambition, purpose, but a mountain of struggles. The drinking wasn’t a surprise, nor his uptick in smoking. He always smoked out the window so the smell wouldn’t permeate, but the drinking started to become…an issue.
It wasn’t that Lucien couldn’t handle himself when he drank, but he often did it to fill the dead time—so he said—when you were still at work, fighting with his own demons in his mind. He always ended up on your bed those nights, curled up in a fetal position at the wrong end and you couldn’t find it in yourself to move him, draping a blanket over him before you decided to spend the night on the couch. It was a weekly occurrence after a while, slowly growing in frequency.
He always apologizes, tells you he won’t do it again, but eventually you find yourself melding around him, sleeping in a way that keeps you comfortable and doesn’t disturb him. You don’t judge him, don’t think any lower of him—but there was concern and Lucien could see it growing with every passing conversation as the weeks dragged along.
By the third month, the dam breaks.
You don’t sugarcoat anything for him either.
“Do you need rehab?” You ask bluntly, watching him peel the gold-flaked under eye patches from his face, shoulder leaned against the doorframe, “Or, like, therapy?”
“I’m not an alcoholic,” He defends, washing his hands under the warm water, “I can get sober if I wanna, but it helps with the stress, you know?”
“No,” You respond honestly, but softly, “I don’t. Unless this is just some big excuse for you to sleep in my bed, which if it is—”
Lucien chuckles, toweling his hands dry, “You caught me.”
“You would tell me if it was getting bad, wouldn’t you?”
It seemed like the least he could do, considering how greatly you were carrying the burden for him by allowing him to stay in the comfort of your own home, treating him like a human. You ignored the tabloids anymore, always negative and nefarious toward him, like he wasn’t allowed to make a few mistakes along the way. He had to be perfect, given his troubling start in the industry. DUIs, cheating, eventually settling down to marry but that didn’t work out great for him either—you’d done some research lately, out of pure curiosity to understand what he wasn’t always willing to share, but you preferred to hear it from him.
Lucien squeezes at your chin in a comforting manner that makes you grimace in feigned disgust, forcing a gentle laugh through your nose as he answers, “Yes, I would.”
–
When he should, he doesn’t.
Award season was approaching and work was hectic, Lucien had wrapped on his next project and his previous one was gearing for a big release and line of promos, which meant Lucien had to be on his game.
The lamp in your living was broken, a shattered glass bottle on the floor beside it, a trail of clothes following to your room and a heat in the apartment that was sweltering in a way that had you stripping down immediately to the thinnest layer you could manage without getting to your underwear, jeans and a thin strapped top as you walked barefoot toward your room.
You weren’t sure what you were expecting or hoping for, but it isn’t this.
He’s naked, completely bare, save for the blanket draping his groin to save his modesty, out cold but skin obviously clammy, reeking of alcohol and sweat and you can’t help scrambling to the floor, unable to form any type of tangible sound. You check for a pulse, fearing that you might have just found yourself in an inescapable scandal, but it was there. That soft thump, thump, thump under your fingertips before you press the back of your hand to his skin and despite the sweat, he’s cold. He must have sweat out most of the alcohol in his system, your eyes dragging to the forgotten bottle on the ground.
You sigh, eyes falling closed as you gather your thoughts. You devise a plan, slow and methodical—first was to clean, grabbing the clothes and broken glass from the ground, leaving no trace of his mayhew before you’re returning to your room and straight for the bathroom, immediately turning on the cold water, the stream forceful as it pushed through the showerhead.
“Fuck,” You curse to yourself as you glance at Lucien who is mostly dead-weight, struggling to understand how you can get him from one point to another—with another quiet huff you approach him, shifting until you can get your arms under his armpits and heave him up, blanket falling from his waist as you yelp, eyes shooting toward the ceiling as you continue to drag his slumped body toward the tub, “okay—god, Lucien, you fucking owe me.”
It takes some maneuvering and the unbelievability that you are so incredibly close to his bare ass and dick in a way that most would fall over backwards for, regardless of the situation—it felt wrong, seeing him in such a manner and so completely helpless, but you shove the thought aside as you finally get him in the tub, the cold water waking him almost immediately.
It starts with a gasp, a sharp tug of the curtain and coarse, “Shit,” that assures you he was alive and well, coherent, even. A small smile tugs at your lips as you hear him let out a string of curses before he finally settles.
“There’s a bottle of water and some Advil on the counter—take it,” You instruct behind the curtain, “I’m going to grab dinner—try not to hurt yourself, please.”
He doesn’t acknowledge you, not that you expected it. And it doesn’t take long to grab the food either, calling it in and driving there and back in about twenty minutes, finding Lucien freshly showered and sitting on the stool near the counter, eyes telling a story of exhaustion but his insistently bouncing leg telling another.
“Chicken or steak?” You ask nonchalantly, holding the styrofoam containers in both hands.
He takes a moment to answer, unsettled by your calmness, “...steak.”
You hand it over without a question, grabbing a couple drinks before you’re digging in, standing opposite of him rather than sitting, eating in a silence that grows, thickens.
“It’s quiet,” You note the obvious before you scroll through your phone, searching for a soft tune to play through your speakers, something to fill the air, “better—how’s the food?”
“I like it,” Lucien responds with a full mouth, somehow endearing as he swallows and sips at the second water you offered him, attempting to help keep him hydrated, even if it was still annoyingly hot in your apartment, “—I…I think I broke your AC.”
“You did. I’ll put in a work order for it to get fixed,” You answer, a solution to the problem, “are you okay?”
If Lucien was being honest with himself, he can’t remember the last time anyone has asked him that—not genuinely, anyways. He falls silently, biting at his bottom lip in deep thought as his eyes squint, poking quietly at his food.
Talking was hard, you understood that. But, you hoped there was some trust built between you in the past few months, that you hadn’t laid your vulnerabilities out bare the night you came home rain soaked without the ability for him to share too. Plus, he’d broken your favorite lamp.
“It’s complicated,” Lucien diverts, but that doesn’t stop you, eyes lying in wait as you laid your utensil down to listen, “—I’ve got two kids. One, he’s eighteen…awesome, awesome kid. His name is Raynor. I didn’t meet him until a few years back, I’ve been tryin’ take make up for that. We even went on a roadtrip a couple summers back.”
Lucien fiddles with the cap on the water bottle idly, speaking further, “I, the other, my daughter, she’s a couple years old—it was a crazy night with a co-star,” You clock the information immediately, knowing who he was talking about without the confession, and he knew too—it wasn’t exactly a well kept secret in Hollywood as Delia was now married, to another co-star, raising that child, “a long story for another time, but we’re going through this nasty court battle.”
It would explain his financial situation a little, his willingness to take roles as he could, but the growing stress on his face as weeks passed, the tendency to hide or ignore the situation rather than face it—you understood, to a degree.
“So, all the drinking? The transiency?”
“It just helps,” He shrugs—helps him forget, temporarily, before it all comes barreling back at him, “she wants to revoke shared custody—she’s got her more anyways, with my work and everything, but she wants to deem me unfit, make it—” Lucien’s throat tightens, exactly why he wanted to avoid this conversation entirely, “she wants to erase me and the moment the press gets wind—”
All hell would break loose.
“Lucien, I don’t think it works that way,” You assure him, even if your knowledge was slim, “there’s…that's your right, she’s your child.”
“Given my history, the judge could consider it,” Lucien replies lackluster, ashamed, “look—I’m sorry to dump this shit on you, I fucked up your apartment, I can find another place to stay and I’ll pay out the rest of the rent like I promised.”
You look at him with a gentle expression, tilting your head until his eyes finally rise, “I asked,” You remind him, “and I hated that lamp anyways, so you did me a favor,” It was a lie, but given his emotional state it was acceptable, watching as he forced a weak laugh, “I’m not kicking you out either, if the media publishes anything about it, you hunker down here. I can deal with a few paps, you know? We do work in the same industry, after all. I may not understand the full scope but I do understand, Lucien.”
He returns a look with sad, red-rimmed eyes as you reach to clean up your shared dinner, before approaching him with a careful few steps, a hand gliding over his bicep and your fingers rubbing at the small dip in the back of neck, your first real initiation of genuine touch. He was a touchy person himself and seemed at ease by the feeling, your lips coming to press a soft kiss against his cheek. Kind, friendly, you pat at his back.
Something changes between that touch and the look he gives you as he turns, eyes flicking toward your lips out of desire, silently he pushes logic aside and leans forward, pulling your chin into his hand like he has before, a familiar touch followed by a foreign one, plush lips against your own that has you swimming in a mix of emotions, eyes falling shut briefly before you realize what was happening, lips parting slightly as the tip of his tongue touches your own before you’re ripping away, eyes wide.
“Oh my god,” You utter out, wishing the words had stayed inside of your head, “I, uh–I’m—”
You stutter relentlessly before you’re scrambling toward your room, door falling shut with a soft click as you sink into your sheets, heart racing uncontrollably and your hands covering your face, unable to face what you had just escaped from as a knock comes a few minutes later on your bedroom door.
You couldn’t face him. You couldn’t.
Eventually, he leaves. Slow footsteps that eventually lead toward another door that closes too, unsure of where he was wandering off to, but you couldn’t think about that, not with the conflicting, battling emotions in your head and chest, a startling yearning coming from just a simple touch.
He was everything you despised—somehow finding level ground, adoring him, caring about him, it was never supposed to go this far. He started as an inconvenience, a disruption to your life…and now, you weren’t sure you could imagine it without him there, in some form.
It takes a couple hours, already deep into your slumber, but the dip of weight in your bed startles you for a moment before the movements stop, the strong press of a back against yours, and an unspoken security that pulls you both under quickly.
He’d gone out drinking again, but at this point, you couldn’t blame him.
–
He awakes to a sweet smell, distinct and fresh. And air, cool air. It can’t be dawn, the sun is too far in the sky to be early morning. Lucien rises with a heavy grogginess, rubbing at his eyes as he finds his footing and walks toward the living room of your apartment, finding your back turned to him as you fiddled with the buttons on your AC as you bid someone goodbye, a man carrying a toolbox descending toward the hallway.
He gears up for an apology, the words balancing on the tip of his tongue.
Suddenly, you’re in front of him, two filled mugs in hand, coffee just the way he liked.
And Lucien doesn’t know when or why the feeling overtakes him, but he kisses you again. It isn’t a simple peck. It was full, all-consuming, feet lifting off the ground type of kiss.
No, literally—you rise to your tiptoes as the cups jostle in your grip as two large, warm hands curl around your back and his lips melt against your own, earning a starling gasp that slips through slightly parted lips, followed by his name after a moment too long.
“Coffee, coffee,” You mumbled quickly, “hot—burning, my toes,” Lucien pulled away quickly at the words, watching as the tan liquid pooled at your feet before he rushed to clean up the mess.
You watch with an amused expression before you finally hand the cup of coffee over, “Good morning to you too, I guess,” You smirk, biting down on your cheek to stifle the laugh that was fighting it’s way out, “please don’t tell me you’re still drunk.”
“I need to apologize,” Lucien tells you, “...again—I’m—I’m sorry for kissing you—again, like that, assuming that was something you wanted. I got pulled into the moment—”
You’ve had all night and morning to think it over, mulling over the emotions and feelings, still not quite sure, but you couldn’t help the swirling feeling of nervousness that had grown more frequent in Lucien’s presence, his looks, his flirtatious nature and touches. You were under his spell completely.
And if you didn’t want to kiss him, you would have stopped him.
Besides, you didn’t want to be the bearer of more bad news after his terrible night, having been let go from your job position that morning, no notice—you were still reeling, but didn’t want to burden Lucien with the news.
You needed something else to occupy your mind.
“Drink,” You instruct, taking a seat on the couch as you sip at your coffee in silence, watching as Lucien mirrored your actions and sat at the opposite end, legs out-stretched and his chest on display, tanned skin with neatly trimmed chest hair, soft tummy leading into the charcoaled, stretchy lounge pants leaving little to imagination as he fidgeted in his seat.
“Where’d you go last night?”
Lucien’s face immediately flushes with guilt, “The—a bar. I didn’t drink. I swear, I—”
He makes a small noise of frustration and closes his eyes, “I did something stupid, I needed a distraction, alright? I shouldn’t have kissed you, that’s not what you wanted, I know that.”
With a silent reservation, you press the coffee cup into the table in front of you before slowly make your way toward him on your knees before you pluck the half-empty mug from his grip and return it to a similar spot, feeling a surge of bravery as you climb onto his lap—there’s some underlying stupidity there, you think. But, fuck it.
“You don’t know what I want,” You assure him, fingers dragging along the top of his head before you’re tugging at the stands to tilt his head back, kissing him soundly, sweet dark roast on your shared breaths as you lick into his mouth, the opposite hand pressed flat against his bare chest. It takes a while, but eventually his brain catches up, along with his movements, and his hands curl around your bare thighs, fingertips grazing the silk shorts you wore to bed the night prior, like butter against your soft skin as his fingers climb and dig, pressing into your skin as you continue to discover every inch of him he had to offer—mouth, tongue, neck, chest.
It was a dormant hunger that had awoken after careful thought and pure primal need, tired of waiting things out for perfection when you had something tangible in front of you.
He’s mumbling your name softly as you lean into him, the bottom of your lip dragging against the tip of his nose as he pulls you away, strong hands encompassing your face as he looks at you, searching your glazed over eyes, “What are you doing?” He asks, apparent concern.
“Distracting you,” You tell him, immediately diving back in to kiss him, nipping at his chin playfully, a shaking sigh falling from his lips, “are you distracted?”
He chuckles weakly, “What happened to me being a cocky, egotistical, little dicked man?”
“I can go back to hating you if you want,” You respond, nipping at his ear before you pull back to look at him, so close you can feel his breath against your lips, “If you’re into that sorta thing.”
He could see in your eyes that you needed this too, a way to shut your brain off for a while, months of failed dates you’ve told him all about, in detail, he can’t help but chuckle at your eagerness, stifling a groan as you core grinds against him, cock stiffening with the movement.
“Maybe,” He’s undecided, “we’ll see how this goes.”
You smile wide, feeling a surge of pride as he returns the kiss more fully, a hand twisting around the back of your neck as he kisses you fully, all wet and uncoordinated but it makes your heart flutter in excitement.
“Let me taste you,” He begs, clawing at your top in an attempt to get his hands on your skin, pushing up the fabric as you follow his movements, top off, stripping your shorts down along with your underwear, an eager Lucien gripping at your hips to maneuver you down into the cushion as he hastily shoves the table away with his feet to make room for him on the floor, no reprieve as he hooks your legs over his shoulder and splits his tongue through your folds, licking up the center.
A man of his word, he tastes. Noisily he licks and prods, tongue dipping inside of along with wandering fingers, sucking gently at your clit until you’re yanking at his hair, hand curling over the back of his scalp, fingernails digging into the top of his back, moans spilling from your lips like a flowing river, the rapids rushing through, walls clenching around nothing but cool air as Lucien parts from you, admires.
He’s got two hands on your thighs to keep you open, “Wider,” He coaxes, your breath quickening as he squeezes at your thighs, “right there, don’t move.”
He shoves his pants down his hips, the heel of his palm rubbing down his shaft as he wraps his fingers around his cock, jerking himself off at the sight of you, glistening and eager, your fingers digging into the cushion fabric—you’ve seen him before, naked, in starkly different context.
But, he had nothing to be ashamed of, your eyes counting the faint splattering of freckles on his chest as his hand glides over his cock, tugs, thumb sliding over the tip to spread the precum down his shaft and you don’t hear him calling your name until his hand touches your skin, gliding over your knee as he taps, coming to with a weak, “Huh?”
Lucien laughs under his breath before he’s beckoning you closer, pushing up with your palms as he cups his hand under your chin and asks—no, demands, “Spit,” He tells you, following his order without missing a beat, the saliva dripping into his hands as you push it past your lips and he moves closer, knees settled on the plush rug in your living room, guiding you until your ass was nearly hanging off the couch and using your saliva to aid the tug of his cock.
“No condom,” You quickly interject, slightly out of breath. His mouth opens like he wants to respond but you quickly shush him, “we can avoid the spiel, I’m on the pill.”
Lucien shrugs with a cocked smile, “Just checking. You alright?”
You nod eagerly, dying for a reason to shut your mind off.
It was the perfect angle, his hips just level enough with your hips that he slid in with ease, adding his own string of spit into the mix as rubbed it down your cunt and pushed his cock inside—deeper, deeper, the head of his cock sliding against your folds teasingly as he rocks his hips until he’s fully flush inside of you.
Your anxious hands are taken hold by him, curling around his wrists instinctively before they’re being shoved over your head and against the back of the couch, his towering frame leaning over you as his hips piston you at a bruising pace, deep enough that it aches. It’s been long, so long and you feel pathetic for already wanting it so bad, core pulsating with an insatiable need.
His breath is hot, wet against your skin as his teeth graze against your breast, sucking the skin between his teeth as you gasp, “Louder,” Lucien coaxes, “let ‘em hear you. Think they deserve it after all they’ve put us through.”
You laugh at that, full-body and airy, eyes falling shut as Lucien plants a foot against the floor, changing up the angle to an intense degree, his cock slipping out briefly as he adjusts, catching glimpse of the string of shiny slick that connects you both before the thick head of his cock pushes back in, a soft squelch of admittance, a tell-tale sign of your obvious enjoyment.
If he knew this would shut you up, he would’ve tried seducing you months ago—though, he had a feeling the attempts would be futile, he was floating on his own cloud of disbelief that after all his wrong-doings, his missteps, it hadn’t pushed you away.
“Show me—huh, show me what you like,” Lucien pleads through baited breath, hair sticking to his forehead from the sheen of sweat, his own hands leaving yours with the silent promise that you wouldn’t move them, finding purchase underneath your thighs and pushing them up toward your chest, your fingers gripping around the back of the couch in desperation, “touch—touch yourself, show me.”
The drag of your hand is slow, but eventually your fingers hover over your cunt, pressing against your sensitive clit as you circle, slow and intentional movement that rips a loud moan from your chest matched with his pointed thrusts, feeling his stamina weaning as he watches, hips stuttering.
“You’re a fucking dream,” Lucien admires, “makin’ a damn mess, too. You hear that?”
He slows down on purpose, partially for his own benefit but he’s proving his point, that sticky squelch of arousal, his faint grunts mixed with your quickly rising moans.
“Does it make you nervous when I stare?” He asks curiously, eyes locked on your pussy, watching his cock split you open, gripping him and pulling him back in eagerly with every thrust, “Look at me—answer me, baby.”
There’s something so distinct in the way he says it, laced with an addictive drug.
Your eyes peel open, bleary behind near tears and you shake your head.
“Do you wish it did?” You counter, earning a subtle head shake from Lucien as he pulls out.
A moan of disappointment leaves your mouth before he’s quickly jostling your around, chest against the couch, his hand spreading wide over your back as he bends you over, fisting his cock as he feeds it back into your greedy cunt, the swollen head making you gasp as it pushes through your over-sensitive folds.
He uses the leverage as his hand climbs, gripping at your shoulder to pull you up, bracketing your body into the couch with a knee at your side, pressing you tight into his chest, his hand sliding around to your chin and turning your face to his, lips parting as he fucks you with a newfound ferocity, eyes rolling back so deep you aren’t expecting the fingers that find your clit, circling the senstive nerves until you’re tipping over the edge, soft encouraging words pulling you through your orgasm like a gentle wave, his fingers slowing down as you resurface.
He comes soon after, his hips stuttering out of pace again as you lean forward, feeling him pull out at the last possible moment before he’s painting thick strips of come against your lower back, the fingers of his left hand digging into your skin as he grabs you tight, the tip of his cock sliding against your ass.
You collapse with a content laugh, oblivious to Lucien searching frantically for something to clean you up before settling on one of the kitchen towels, your body slumped lazily against the couch and sighing when you feel his warm touch, the words slipping out on their own accord, “I got fired.”
“What?”
He tosses the dirty towel aside and passes over your clothes, pulling his own lounge pants back up his hips, sans underwear—and it makes you curious how often he does that normally, comfortable as he takes a seat, legs spread wide as he settles into the cushion.
“They called this morning,” You explain easily, pulling your top over your head and maneuvering your panties and shorts back on, “wouldn’t give me a reason, but it doesn’t matter.”
Lucien’s brow furrows in thought, rubbing his thumb against his fingertips out of habit.
“Is this one of those situations where you’re gonna ask if I’ll sign an NDA?” You half-joke.
He shakes his head almost immediately. He doesn’t seem to find it amusing, almost slightly concerned—or wounded?
“Come work for me,” He insists, “I’ve been needing an assistant.”
“Isn’t that a conflict of interest?” You ask him, staring at his flush chest and mused hair, evidence of rigorous sex all over his face, it was almost enough to have you confessing some unspoken feelings, but you weren’t that easily broken down.
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“Are you just trying to find a reason to stick around longer?” You tease him, a smile peeking out behind your tired expression, “Because it won’t work.”
“No—I’m serious about getting my shit together,” Lucien promises, “I might need a little help…but I want to.”
“Can I think about it?”
Lucien nods, hands dropping to his lap as he fiddles with a ring on his finger, eventually trailing toward the chains around his neck before his head is popping up, a quizzical look on his face.
“Wait—was that because you were having a bad morning?”
The sex, he means.
A smile breaks out on your face, “Nothing an orgasm won’t fix.”
He can sense it isn’t the full truth, but he doesn’t pry.
“Damn straight,” He chuckles, both of you falling into a comfortable silence.
–
Your answer doesn’t come for a solid week, thinking over the pros and cons. It was complicated, indeed bound to be messy if you allowed it, but Lucien was promising to double your pay, no undermining, no hovering—it seemed too good to be true.
But, you were taking the risk.
Lucien was still awaiting the imminent release of the court documents, the storm of press, but when you were secured in the safety of your apartment, hidden under the blankets as Lucien clung to you, head buried in your chest and his cock still buried inside of you, a slow and lazy day was what he needed, but he also craved you—and he was addicting, impossible to deny.
“We can’t keep doing this when I start working for you,” You remind him.
“Who says we can’t?” Lucien asks curiously, adjusting his hips as he slides deep inside of your cunt, peering up at you with soft eyes, “We keep it casual, if we decide we wanna stop. We stop. It won’t affect your job. I’m not that much of a dick, baby.”
“Well, for starters, you can’t call me baby at work.”
Lucien nods dutifully, listening to you divulge into a long lists of hardset rules, eventually pulling your focus back to him, his hips moving at a slow but gradual pace until you can’t focus any longer, giggling loudly as he buries his face into your neck, a sufficient end to the conversation.
The rest could be figured out later.
-
dividers: @/saradika-graphics
#lucien flores#lucien de leon#lucien flores x reader#lucien flores x you#lucien de leon x reader#lucien de leon x you#lucien flores smut#the uninvited#the uninvited fic#lucien de leon smut#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal#my writing
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Smeared Lipstick
Still on my Logan nonsense (thank god) and had a round of Patch!Logan feels. I know nothing about him other than what I saw in Deadpool and Wolverine, so sorry if I messed him up somehow.
This is for @likedovesinthewnd because she's the one who told me I should write it lol
Also shout out to @bpmiranda for posting the best/nastiest smut fics that inspired me to go ham and not hold back for once. If you need some more Logan, read mine first but she's got a lot more!
Warnings: Casino, basically pure smut with only a sprinkle of plot, oral (male receiving), some light conartistry, mutant reader, bathroom smut, fingering (both receiving because I'm a feminist lol), sugar daddy but only kinda, Patch!Logan, a touch of 'getting caught', and probably some other stuff. Let me know if I missed anything important.
Word Count: 3473 (don't look at me)
[More Logan]
[Main Master List]
“Hit me,”
The dealer passed Logan another card and he concealed his joy easily. He’d hit 20 for the third time at this table. Lady Luck always on his side.
“You win again, sir,” The dealer said, pushing the new stack chips across the table to him.
“I’m afraid it’s time we close this table, sir,” Your voice always soothed something in him. You’d been working at this particular casino for a few months, and so, Logan always found himself at your tables. No one suspected the truth of why you both were there.
“Pity, I was doing so well,” Logan looked up at you with his one good eye, drinking in the way your glittery red dress hugged every single one of your edges just right. How your hair was done up with sparkly bits to match the shine on your dress. How your lipstick was the exact shade of red as your dress.
You looked good enough to eat, if he were being honest.
“I’m sure I can find you somewhere else to play,” You smile, half customer service, half something naughty. Logan put the cigar he’d been chewing on away into his pocket. He had a feeling he’d find himself with something better to put in his mouth shortly.
“Lead the way, sweetheart,” Logan stood, leaving his chips all on the table. “Cash those into my account,” This was directed at the dealer who was just cleaning up his station.
“Please, Mr. Locken,” You urged the dealer. He was a clever young man, one of your best dealers. He’d caught three different cheaters in his time at the casino, and you were impressed that he was so good at catching them. Even the team upstairs, who’s entire job it was to catch cheating, had missed one of the three Locken had spotted.
“Of course, Miss Y/N,” Locken replied, gathering Logan’s chips.
“Thank you,” You said, taking Logan’s arm and leading him away.
Logan had been staring at the skin exposed that showed over the slinky material of your dress. You knew poor Locken likely knew exactly what you and Mr. Logan were about to get up to. Locken didn’t really want to know, but it wasn’t exactly a secret that you and Mr. Logan, the high roller with an eye patch, were an item. Most of the staff knew, and the rest likely suspected.
But Mr. Logan, being a high roller, got away with all kinds of things. Fucking the floor manager was hardly a big deal or a surprise at that point.
“And where are you taking me, Miss Y/N,” Logan mocked Locken’s tone and you smacked his chest with one hand. “As I recall, there aren’t any tables this way, and the hotel is the other direction too,”
“I was thinking you needed a little more luck,” You told him. “I heard that another big fish was headed in to drop some cash, and he’s luckier than most who walk through the door.” There was something about you that no one in the building, other than Logan, knew about you… and that was that you were a mutant who could control a person’s luck. You could also see how lucky someone was, just by touching them. It came in all kinds of handy working in a casino, and extra handy where Logan was involved. The two of you having a sort of arrangement in regards to luck.
“What did you have in mind for me?” Logan mused as you led him down another hallway and into a single stall bathroom. It was one of the large single stall bathrooms, where several people could use the two sinks and spacious counter during a wedding or other event, usually to get ready. This particular bathroom was out of the way of the main space though, less likely to get interrupted.
“Lock the door,” You told him with a saucy smirk.
You and Logan had met originally in a different casino, and he’d figured out that his string of bad luck had been tied to you. He thought, originally, that it was because he’d gotten so distracted by you that he’d lost his edge. You knew it was because you’d turned all his luck to bad and all your own luck to good, hoping to clean house well enough to eat for the next month.
“Yes, ma’am,” Logan turned to lock the door and when he turned back, you were sitting on the counter, skirt hiked up to your knees. Logan took a deep breath through his nose that quickly dissolved into a growl of pleasure as he smelled your arousal. “Never will get over how good you smell, honey,” He stepped between your thighs and tipped your chin up so that you were looking at him.
“Only for you baby,” You purred back, leaning up so your breath brushed his lips sensually.
“No kissing,” Logan reminded you, and you pouted, but you knew the deal. After he’d found you out as a mutant, you’d both struck a deal. You would give him better luck, and he'd take good care of you, effectively becoming your sugar daddy. Only, if you called him ‘daddy’ he’d bend you over his knee, so you saved that for special occasions.
“Please?” You begged, knowing that was the only line left in the sand between you. You’d done everything else, had sex in every direction you could think of. But no kissing. Never kissing.
You didn’t like it, but it was easy enough to complain around.
“You know the rules,” Logan growled softly. He ran his tongue along the exposed skin at your throat and you moaned. He chuckled, feeling your vibrations against his tongue.
“Rules are made to be broken, I thought?” You pressed as he stepped forward to bump the hardness in his pants against you. Your hips moved against him as if there was ever any question to what was going on between you.
“I can walk away,” Logan warned and you whined, but nodded to tell him you’d stop asking. “Good girl,”
“Wait,” You said, suddenly having a sordid idea. Logan rocked backwards on his heel far enough to peer questioningly into your face. “Let me take care of you this time,”
“You wanna take care of me?” Logan asked skeptically. You reached down to palm him through his slacks. His eye fluttered closed at the contact and he had to brace himself on the counter on either side of you.
“Please, baby? Since you won’t let me kiss you, at least let me taste you?” You batted your eyelashes at him and he knew he was a sucker for giving in to you anytime you did that. Hell, he’d kill a man no questions asked, if you batted your lashes at him.
“Get to it then,” He moved back only far enough to let you slide off the counter and to your knees. You made short work of undoing his belt and pants. You pulled his slacks and boxers down just far enough to allow his cock to spring free. He was already rock hard and leaking for you when you cooed happily and kitten licked the warm tip of him.
He had to grip the counter again to remain in control of himself. You smirked as you did it again, tasting the salty tang of his precum before you wrapped your lips around just the head of his cock.
“Fuck,” Logan grunted, trying his best not to slam his dick straight down your throat. He knew you could take it, but he wanted to let you get there on your own.
“Want me to stop?” You pause only long enough to ask before you licked a long stripe up the underside of him, tracing the thick vein there from balls to tip.
“Don’t you dare,” Logan pants, cursing again when you go back to the small licks along the very tip of his cock. You always seemed to know exactly how to drive him out of his mind. Maybe that was why he’d give you anything you wanted. Diamonds, jewelry, gold, silver, hotel rooms, a car if you asked for it… He’d give you anything his money could buy.
Anything but the heart he was pretty sure you weren’t even aware you’d already stolen.
You pressed a small kiss to his angry red tip before sticking out your tongue and sliding him into the warmth of your mouth.
Logan cursed again, his hips bucking once before he could stop himself. You adjusted your knees on the hard tile floor, loosened your jaw, and slid your hands lovingly around his thighs.
With your eyes fluttering softly and the end of his dick in your mouth, Logan was surprised he didn’t cum right there on your tongue.
You looked up at him and gave a slight nod, telling him you were ready for him to take control if he wanted it. Logan felt his heart rate spike as the animal in him begged to claim you. If he wasn’t careful he’d bury his fist in your hair and throat fuck you until you couldn’t speak. But he’d promised to be careful when you were at work, because you needed to look nice for the casino.
When Logan didn’t immediately take over, you leaned forward, taking more and more of him into your mouth, slowly, until he just barely touched the back of your throat. Your throat constricted on a gag and the feeling of your throat closing was all it took for the animal inside him to break free.
Logan’s strong hand cradled the back of your head, trying to avoid pulling out the glittery baubles you’d put there this morning before he’d driven you to work. You leaned back into his palm, trying to ease the sensation in your throat, and you got relief for about two beats before that same careful hand pulled you back along him until your nose was pressed flush with the rough hair at his base.
You knew it was his turn to have his fun now, and you couldn’t help but grin for a moment before you remembered how hard it was to breathe around the girth of his cock.
Your nails dug into the meat of his thighs as you focused on breathing while he jerked his hips. The drag of his cock along your tongue made heat pool in your stomach as he abused your throat over and over again.
Meanwhile, Logan was making the most guttural noises while he used your throat. His grunting and groaning echoing in the empty bathroom, occasionally punctuated by a soft curse or two when your throat squeezed him just right. All paired with the wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of your throat.
But as much as you’d love to let him stay there in your mouth until he came, you needed a break. You reached up and tapped on his stomach, your agreed sign that you needed air.
Instantly, Logan pulled back and caught your eyes with his one good one.
“You alright?” He asked and you nodded with a slight cough.
“Just needed to catch my breath,” You admitted. “I’m out of practice,”
“I know one way to fix that,” Logan said with a cheeky grin.
“Give me five more seconds,” You said, adjusting on your knees again. You took a second to pull his slacks down to his knees. You lean in and give some attention to each of his beefy thighs, kissing the strong muscles and nibbling the soft flesh.
“Don’t tease me,” Logan grumbled, his hand coming back to your head. “Finish what you started,”
“Yes, sir,” You batted your lashes up at him and his cock twitched next to your face. You took another moment to lick the side of him, rubbing his length against your face, showcasing just how long he was compared to your head. It was a wonder you could fit him all down your throat.
You kissed the side of his dick a few times, preparing you both for another round, and with one last kitten lick to his slit, his dick slid back into your throat.
The second time was always easier for you, and you’re always happy to help when it means he would let out those grunting noises you love so much.
And you knew exactly what would make him whine for you too.
You slid your hands up and around the back of his thighs until you could grip both of his taught buttcheeks in your hand. This distracted him enough from his movements that you were able to swallow around his tip and make him groan again. You bobbed your head as you kneaded his flesh and he got lost in the sensation the exact same way you did when he was face down between your legs. And just like he always did, you carefully slid a finger into his waiting hole.
The noise Logan makes is something you wished you could bottle up for a rainy day. It’s somewhere near a whine and too gravelly to be a whimper. You withdraw only long enough to add some moisture to your digits before working yourself back into him, stroking at that spot deep inside that makes his thighs tense and his knees shake.
Having discovered how stroking him like this made him feel, you understood why he liked to finger-fuck you so much. Making him experience such pleasure, pleasure that only you have brought him? Heaven. Heaven on earth, about to cum down your throat.
Logan never lasted long with your fingers in his ass.
You hold your breath while he comes undone in your mouth, bucking his hips against the swirling of your tongue. You try to swallow it all, but it’s difficult when he’s moving still, so you just hold on until he’s pumped every last drop into your mouth.
Before he can be overstimulated too much, he pulls your hand away from him and slides himself from your soft mouth.
“Fuck, baby, thought you were going to suck me dry for a second there,”
“I would if you’d let me,” You smiled up at him. He reached down and gently rubbed his thumb under your bottom lip, catching a drip of his cum that you hadn’t managed to swallow. At first you thought he’d press it into your mouth, but instead he brought it to his own and you felt your face flame with unexpected heat.
“Maybe next time sweetheart,” Logan helped you to your feet before adjusting himself and pulling up his slacks.
“Wait, you’ve got lipstick all over,” You tried to stop him from tucking himself away hoping you could clean him up properly, but he just chuckled and did up his pants.
“Something to remember you by,” He teased and you rolled your eyes before turning to the mirror to see the state of your own face. It was about what you’d figured but also you didn’t mind in the slightest.
Your red lipstick was smeared all across your cheek, your eyes were wet so your eyeshadow had mostly rubbed off, but luckily your eyeliner had stayed put. You wore super waterproof eyeliner for that reason after all. There was still some of the sticky release of Logan’s painted on your lips and tongue from where you’d failed to swallow it all.
“Look at that,” You mused. “You smeared my lipstick,” Logan chuckled at that, turning you around so that he could see.
“Seems so,” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silk handkerchief. He gently took your chin and held you steady while he soiled the white silk with your red lipstick and the remains of his cum. After fucking your throat like that, you almost forgot he could be gentle too.
You liked it when he was gentle.
When Logan was satisfied with his work, he put his handkerchief back in his pocket and leaned down to kiss your cheek, you froze when you felt his lips at the edge of yours. Almost a kiss.
But he knew better than that.
You both did.
You whined softly for him, wanting more, but you also needed to get back to work.
“Turn around for me,” Logan said. You raised an eyebrow at him but did as he asked, gasping when he pressed himself against your ass.
“Logan,” You chided. “I need to head back,”
“Just give me a minute to return the favor,” Logan was smirking at you over your shoulder as you watched him in the mirror. “I promise I won’t smear your lipstick this time,” You bit your lip at the thought of him getting you off here too.
“I really should be getting back,” You tried to say, but it was half hearted at best. He smacked your ass and you whimpered at him, terribly needy and terribly turned on.
“Spread your legs for me and lift your skirt,” He commanded against the shell of your ear. “Now,” You jumped at the authority in his voice and moved to do as he asked. You hoisted your skirt up to your hips and let your legs shift apart so that he had room to slide his knee between your thighs.
You gasped as he bounced his leg into your sensitive folds.
“I’ll repay you properly when we get home tonight, but until then,” He pressed a soft kiss to the side of your neck. “Let me make my baby feel good,” You could only nod as he reached down and slid his hand into your already soaked panties.
“Logan,” You moaned as his finger traced circles around your bud. “That feels so good,”
“Good,” He nibbled on your earlobe. “Just relax,”
You were about to give in entirely when the handle to the bathroom jiggled and it reminded you all at once that you were still at work.
“Fuck… Logan…” You tried to stop him, but he just dipped his fingers deeper and you mewled instead.
“Don’t worry about that, focus on me and what I’m doing,” Logan purred. The handle rattled again and this time you heard someone curse about the bathroom being occupied too long.
You jumped when the person outside banged on the door.
“Find another bathroom, bub!” Logan growled loudly as he kicked the door angrily in return. Another curse from outside the door and Logan slowed his movements until he couldn’t hear the person outside anymore. “Now where were we?”
You were gripping his arm, which was wrapped around your waist to keep you in place.
“I don’t even remember,” You admitted with a laugh, which shifted into a moan as he moved his fingers against you again and all at once you remembered. “Fuck,” You moaned.
“That’s it,” He sped up his fingers, watching your face in the mirror as your closed your eyes in pleasure. “Come on, baby, give it to me,” He grunted against your shoulder, his teeth teasing your skin.
It didn’t take much more for you to cum around his fingers, fluttering and shaking in his arms as he held you up.
“That’s it pretty girl, that’s it,” Logan purrs against your ear, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “That’s my pretty girl,”
You turned, wanting to kiss him, to thank him for this, but you remembered his rule, so instead you pressed your forehead into his jaw and whined at him.
“I really do need to get back to work,” You whisper. “And you need to go make enough money for that trip we’ve been talking about,”
“Yes ma’am,” Logan chuckled in your ear as he finally pulled his fingers out of the tight embrace of your cunt. You groaned at the loss of him, but hummed in pleasure when you watched him lick his fingers clean. “Need me to carry you to your desk?” He teased.
“Oh shush,” You stood and adjusted yourself. “I was just enjoying the moment for a little longer,”
“Could always play hooky and use your key to get us into a room upstairs,” Logan said, like he was nothing but serious. You shove him playfully.
“Yeah, and then I’ll get fired again,” You chided. “We’re going to run out of good casinos if we keep doing that,”
“So?” He pressed his lips to your temple. “Maybe when we run out of casinos, I’ll make an honest woman out of you,” This makes you pause. Could he be serious?
“Only once we’ve run out?” You asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.
“And if we get married, I’ll have to kiss you, won’t I?” It sounded almost like a tease, but there was nothing but joy and mirth in his eye.
And maybe, just maybe, love was sparkling in there too.
[More Logan]
[Main Master List]
#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#wolverine#wolverine x reader#deadpool and wolverine#logan howlett smut#logan#smut#patch!logan#Patch#james howlett logan#james logan howlett#logan smut#wolverine x you#logan howlett x you#wolverine fanfiction
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EEEEEEEE This is so rad! I plan on doing this with all my Tavs, starting with Wren! (Tiefling Rogue)
General
Wren can be recruited under a piece of rubble from the crash, somewhere near Astarion.
Shadowheart: "That tiefling seems awfully suspicious. It's rather strange to see someone with that many daggers and in that attire," Astarion: "I must say, our latest aquisition is absolutely delightful. I do love finding like-skilled individuals," Karlach: "Normally I'd tell you to be careful around a rogue, but Wren seems alright! They're the dash, I'm the smash!" Gale: "I have high hopes for our new friend. Hopefully their wits are as sharp as their knives." Lae'zel: "I am torn. On one hand, the purple one seems competent at the least. On the other, hiding in the shadows to make a kill? Cowardly." Wyll: "Keep an eye on that tiefling. They have a look about them I know all too well," (If pressed) "Let's just say that from my time in Baldur's Gate I've met a fair few 'friends' from the Thieves Guild,"
They have a BIG reaction when meeting Astarion. They're a bit cagey and comment about knowing him. Other than that, they act pretty gay around Karlach and are definitely displeased at Wyll's actions. (When they find out Wyll is the grand duke's son, they make a comment about almost carrying out a hit on him before he left Baldur's Gate)
Raise in Approval: Mischief and strange acts of kindness. Necessary violence, like after you've tried to talk out of it. Lower in Approval: Anything excessively horny (Ace moment) or letting someone who is clearly a problem or a bad person live (+8 points for killing Gandrel w Astarion)
They'll permanently leave the party if you come on explicitly sexually. (Agian, Ace moment) They'd give Tav one chance to apologize, and if they don't, Wren's out.
Them being a member of the Thieves Guild in Baldur's Gate. This would come up after finding the Zentarim hideout in Act 1 and more references would pop up after that.
Their personal quest involves them leaving the Thieves Guild and becoming a better person more in touch with their emotions like guilt, remorse and affection. Also letting their guard down. A branching path could be re-joining. You would have more allies among the city and to get in fights (such as another rogue, a drow named Soren) but Wren is back in the guild, and not loving it. They wouldn't be at the epilogue in this branch, called away to a job in Neverwinter.
Stay: "Fine. Not as fun to just sit here. I'll just... sharpen my knives I suppose... or read a book," Leave: "Hells yeah! Let me get my gear," (Because whenever they have the chance, they take off their armor, it ain't comfy)
The shtick with Wyll about almost killing him, and they explain why they didn't. (Change in Thieves Guild management, and their own moral compass) Once the player knows Wren is a member of the thieves guild, Wyll confronts them about it. "Why should we let an assasin stay? How heartless do you have to be to end lives for money?" "Says the man who nearly ended Karlach's life for a devil, oh virtuous Blade of Frontiers. For what it's worth, Wyll I'm not a complete monster." "Aren't you? Please elaborate." "When I was seventeen I refused to carry out a hit. On Ulder Ravenguard's son."
Yes! The Thieves Guild Master (in my fics, that's a human woman named Lorenna, but that role would be replaced with whoever the canon Guild Master is) and another thief named Soren, who's basically their chosen brother. (He's who their dream guardian is based on)
After killing the goblin in the tiefling camp. "Shame... could've prodded the old girl for information. Now there's blood to clean up," After meeting Alfira "humming The Weeping Dawn with their eyes closed before answering you,"
Story Specific
"If something's sounds too good to be true, it probably is. Nothing good ever came to anyone from blind trust."
"Absolutely not. I'd sooner let the bard pluck my eye out, then sell what's left of my soul to a devil. And a right cad of a devil at that."
"Glad he's in the open about it now. But if we can't get him bodies to drink from, he may need com- help hunting in the woods at night,"
"*groan* Gross. I mean, more power to you if you like it but... *shudders*,"
"Oh gods, you're actually doing it. I'll um... I'm going to go sharpen my blades... and poison them," (generally afraid)
They will leave if the player kills the tieflings. "They were good people. They didn't deserve that. I... If that's how you're willing to treat innocent civilians, who's to say how you'll treat us? (If the player knows they're with the Guild) Would you turn me over to The Guild for a high bounty if you were low on gold? Or Astarion to Cazador? Or Karlach to Zariel? Wyll to Mizora?"
Singing along and dancing to Alfira's songs!
"Have fun, I'm going to partaking in the wine, the music, then getting some rest. Don't have too much fun though, we still need to be able to function in the morning ;),"
"WHAT THE HELLS?! NO. THIS IS NOT SOMETHING YOU GET TO APOLOGIZE FOR I- *groans in agony* ... leave me for a moment, if you will,"
"Oh- well let's hope it wasn't venomous, or we're about to have much bigger problems than a foul taste,"
"Alright, fine. Perhaps I'll get used to being on a stage,"
Nah. I think even Orin would be a little wary of them. They're equally stabby, Wren is just aimed differently. And ima be honest, I haven't gotten far enough in my Durge run to know what that is.
Non-Ascended "I'm proud of Astarion. He was able to turn away the power, even knowing how safe it would've made him... He's a good lad." Ascended. "Let's hope he doesn't get too mad with power... I'm already seeing him change and it's scaring me. Let's hope I don't need to get The Guild involved,"
"Gods, I... I hope it was worth it," Narrator: There's more wariness in Wren than you've seen before. They're frightened of you. If they're romanced it adds. "I... I can try to get used to this, as long as all my um... as long as I'm still being listened to,"
"Then make it productive. Focus the urges on the goblins and their leaders. The urges are your arrows, and you are the bow."
They're investigating it crime-scene style, knelt over her body. "Gods... it's not a clean assasination either. Slashes and stabs long after she'd died," they close her eyes. "This was a crime of passion... almost animalistic. And the spatters... was this you?"
"Well... it's a bit sick to say I'm flattered." They hold down Durge and pour wine down their throat that's laced with something to numb them and put them to sleep. After they come to they ask if durge is alright. They just have a few scratches, they're fine. "I will get you through this. My blade and my heart are yours, I swear it."
Romance
Yes they are romanceable! They're a romantic asexual. The player would need to not give them back to the guild or their romance stops immediately. They feel too betrayed.
They do need to be flirted with.
They are technically a poly option. They're ace so they're okay with the player getting their needs satisfied by someone else. "I... I am not in a place to be picky about that, I think,"
You can dance with them at the tiefling party to music played and after share a bottle of wine and cuddle. (Shown to just be cuddling by both of them still having clothes on)
Just the one romance path.
Breaking up: "I... It was good while it lasted. I understand though." Choosing them over someone else: "Oh um... are you sure? I mean, I'm not blind to my looks or anything but... I'm not interested in... carnal delights, like your other flame is,"
"What is Wren's greatest fear?" Answer: Being controlled. "What is Wren's dream?" Answer: To quit the guild and be a poet or a singer. "How does Wren like to fight?" Answer: Throwing knives from the shadows. They named one 'Featherlight Wrath'.
"No protests from me, my love. Just be sure he knows I don't want to be directly involved in sex bit."
Mizora: "Out, devil." "I... I don't blame you for needing something but did it have to be her? Just talk to me next time you want to lay with someone." Emperor: "So... quite adventurous." Haarlep: "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Does he need a knife in his eye?"
No they will not. I think that was pretty clear from the rest of this. "Have fun, I'll be waiting outside when you've finished... ugh, realized it as soon as I said it, gods,"
They ask Tav to settle down with them anywhere not in Baldur's Gate. With the treasures they've gained on their adventure they're living comfortably and they want to take up singing. They would be interested in getting married, but later down the line. At the epilogue party if Wyll is the grand duke and the player knows about his adopted daughter, Wren would bring up adopting a tiefling from an orphanage in the city they're living in. "I don't want to have my own children at all... but I'd love to help a child so they don't have to go down the same path I did.
It would technically be possible to convince them to have sex (DC 20 Persuasion check), but it would be like if you picked the option after Astarion's Act 2 confession. It would just be a fade to black, and you would lose approval with Wren a LOT. If you were at highest, it would go back down to the middle.
Baldur's Gate 3 Companion!Tav Ask List
What if your Tav was a recruitable companion, instead of the main character? (contains major spoilers for the game, and for some dark urge runs as well)
General
Where can your Tav be recruited? Are they first encountered on the Nautiloid, or in the Nautiloid crash region? Or are they not recruitable until a later act?
Do the other companions have special comments or reactions upon recruiting your Tav?
Does your Tav have any comments or advice when you recruit other companions?
What sort of general actions raise or lower their approval?
Are there any instances where your Tav can permanently leave the party, depending on player character actions?
Do they have any secrets that can be revealed? What are the prerequisites for this secret coming to light?
Do they have their own personal quest that spans the course of the game? Can it take different branching paths depending on the choices the Player Character makes?
What do they say when the Player Character asks them to stay in camp? How about when the Player Character asks them to come adventuring again?
Does your Tav have any escalating conflicts with one of the other companions, like Lae’zel and Shadowheart’s knife-fight?
Are there any unique NPCs associated with your Tav that can show up during the course of the game?
Are there any moments in the game that trigger unique dialogue for your character? (Like Gale’s anecdote about the barfight after you save the goblin prisoner)
Story Specific
How does your Tav advise the player character when it comes to the Dream Visitor?
How do they advise the player character on Raphael?
How do they react to Astarion biting the Player Character?
How do they react to the Player Character letting Abdirak whip them?
How do they react to the Player Character taking their first tadpole power?
Will they stay with the Player Character regardless of siding with the goblins or the tieflings, or is it possible for them to leave the party permanently?
What can they be found doing at the tiefling/goblin party?
Do they have comments on who the Player Character chooses to spend the night with?
Do they have unique dialogue if the Player Character lets them die when they steal the Blood of Lathander?
How do they react if the PC licks the dead spider in the Gauntlet of Shar?
What do they say if the PC tries to force them to go up on stage with Dribbles the Clown?
Is it possible for your Tav to be kidnapped and replaced by Orin? How is Orin's deception revealed? How do they react to the PC rescuing them in the Temple of Bhaal?
How do they react to the PC either allowing Astarion to ascend or convincing him to spare the 7000 spawn?
How does Tav react to the PC becoming a mind flayer? Can they offer to become one themselves? Does their reaction change if they’re romanced?
How do they react when the Dark Urge first reveals their amnesia and murderous thoughts to them?
How do they react to the Dark Urge killing Alfira?
If romanced, how do they react to the Dark Urge trying to kill them in Act 2?
Romance
Is your Tav a romanceable character? Are there any specific requirements to romancing them?
Does your Tav need to be flirted with to start the romance, or will they approach the PC themselves if approval is high enough?
Are they a polyamorous or a monogamous option?
Do they have a special romance scene at the tiefling/goblin party?
Does the romance have different branching paths, or just one route to take?
How do they react to the player character breaking up with them, or choosing another character over them?
What questions can Zethino ask the PC about Tav in the Love Test?
If they’re poly, do they have a reaction to the PC engaging in a relationship with Halsin?
How do they react if the PC has sex with Mizora? The Emperor? Haarlep?
Will they join in with the PC and the Drow Twins, or no?
What are Tav’s plans for the future? Do they propose to the PC, or is marriage not something they’re interested in?
Free space! Share anything from your companion!Tav au!
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#bg3 tav#baldurs gate#baldurs gate tav#oc#bg3 oc#oc writing#asexual oc#asexual tav#asexual#companion tav#lgbtqia#rogue tav
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The Might of the Realm
8.9K / Din Djarin x Princess!Reader
Summary: Din Djarin, General to your father’s army, finds himself in the gladiator arena of a foreign planet fighting for the success of your diplomatic mission.
Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Established secret relationship (they are stupid in love), Mando'a nicknames (mesh'la, cyar'ika, cyare), the helmet comes off but reader is blindfolded, bath sex, fingering, unprotected PiV (Star Wars is made up and in space, so we pretend it's fine). A wee bit of angst if you squint.
A/N: Written for @beefrobeefcal's The Glandolorian challenge! This is the same AU that I imagined for my Kiss It Better drabble, with the same Princess!reader: set post Season 3, Carson Teva has dispatched Din to a New Republic stronghold planet to train and strengthen their armies; he becomes their General and falls in love with the realm's princess. I imagine this story to take place before Kiss It Better, when they are still sneaking around 🥰.
Many moons before another General (🤭) came on the scene, I outlined a long story for this AU that I'm not sure I'll ever write, so kindly forgive my self indulgent word count - I really took advantage of this challenge for a chance to write these two 🥰 Struggled a bit with the Dieter Bravo reference, but I think I found something that works (Thank you to @morallyinept for your invaluable character dialogue database!) Also got inspired by someone's Gladiator II premier look and snuck in one (1) The Princess Bride reference 🤭 / Dividers by @saradika-graphics
“No.”
“Princess, it will be fine.”
“I said ‘no’, Din. We came to pay our respects to the new rule and to affirm that our established trade routes through Flavin 5’s space will remain intact. We did not come to be participate in some archaic gladiatorial fighting match to assert dominance.”
Even through the blankness of Din’s visor you can tell he’s amused by your hiss of a retort but is holding back his reaction. His stoic and impassive demeanor normally reserved for others, you know that if he’s being less than fully direct with you it’s for one of two reasons: 1) he doesn’t want to lie or 2) he doesn’t want to risk your ire. You suppose it’s the latter in this case, and that thought alone is reason enough for you to calm your emotional response to this predicament and reassess.
Taking a deep breath, you rest one hand on your hip and mimic a stance you’ve seen your fearsome General make many times; with your other you gesture at Din to present his argument for voluntarily sending your guard, the top lieutenants of the army he commands, into a battle arena on foreign soil.
“Mesh’la, I know your instinct is to protect your people, but you know as well as I that our troops, and especially the men who have been deemed fit to accompany you on this diplomatic mission, are more than capable of handling themselves in any combat situation.”
Din almost chuckles at the way you tilt your pretty head ready to interrupt, his feisty cyar’ika; he continues hurriedly, but with the calm confidence he knows you respond to, “You diligently studied Flavian traditions and history before embarking on this trip – you yourself taught me all I know of these people. Despite the new ruling family’s decision to resurrect this ancient custom, what is your sense of these people? Do they seem barbaric? Cruel for cruelty’s sake? This isn’t the Petranaki arena on Geonosis.”
You would roll your eyes at Din’s perfectly level-headed analysis, if you didn’t consider his strategic and tactical mind one of his most attractive qualities; Din’s shrewd ability to consider all angles of any situation is one of your army’s greatest strengths, and one that never fails to weaken you at the knees. He’s taking this situation as seriously as you need him to, and so, you consider your answer carefully - working through your thoughts out aloud, “No, they are not a cruel people – and you’re right, these gladiatorial games were never about execution or spectacle like they were on Geonosis. The ancient Flavian events were meant to bring the people, no matter class or station, together to be entertained, usually in celebration.”
“Do you think that tradition is being respected? Or do you suspect some hidden agenda?”
You remunerate on this, thinking back to the new Flavian royal family you met earlier today, “No. I believe them to be sincere. Their purpose in resurrecting this historic custom is, I think, to build a connection with their people. Participating in the gladiator match would be a show a respect for the Flavian people and a celebration of the new royal family.” You take a deep breath, “So, we should participate.”
“I agree completely, Princess.”
This time you do roll your eyes at Din, but there’s no arrogance in your expression, “Fine. But Din, just because there’s no ill intent does not mean there isn’t risk. We don’t know what to expect from such a fight – there hasn’t been one like it held in centuries. Who knows what opponents our men would face in the arena?”
“No matter who or what our troops are pitted against tomorrow, Princess, there is no doubt in my mind that they will be able to handle it.”
Nodding thoughtfully, you have to agree, Din did train them himself after all, “I believe it. Especially since they will have their fearless General there to lead them.”
“No.”
“Din, it will be fine.”
“I said ‘no’, mesh’la. I cannot leave you unprotected and without guard in the Royal Box,” huffs Din.
Stepping into Din’s space, you lay your hands on the shiny beskar that sits across his expansive chest, swearing you can feel it vibrate beneath your gentle palm from his thundering heartbeat; tipping yourself towards the great warrior before you, you feel his big, gloved hands move to your waist to steady you just as you knew they would. Giving Din your most innocuous expression, you coo, “There is no need for me to have a protective guard if we deem the Flavian royals to be of honourable intent; if it is safe enough for our soldiers to participate in the gladiatorial games, then it is safe enough for me to be alone in the Royal Box.”
Din’s smile at your cleverness and persuasive tactics is hidden beneath his helmet, but he’s yet not ready to show you he’s given in so he remains as silent and cold as the armour he wears.
You use this opportunity to loop one arm around your hulking General’s neck to bring him closer to you still, your free hand takes one of his from your waist and brings it up to his helmet in a silent request. The familiar click of Din’s helmet unlocking is the only invitation you need - using your nose to lift the brim of his helmet slightly above his strong jaw so you can find his plush lips with your own, you feel the hint of a smile against your pout before you deepen the kiss. Opening to let Din lick into your mouth, you melt against the hard metal that represents everything he is to you: extraordinary, flawless, indestructible.
And such a good kisser, letting loose a soft whimper you nearly miss Din chuckle something against your lips.
“What’s that, General?” you sigh dreamily.
“I said, Princess, I saw what you did there, and that was NOT the way,” chastising with no actual bite, Din lowers and relocks his helmet.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” flashing him that breathtaking smile of yours that always makes him forget himself, “I’m only following the logic you already agreed to. Grogu and I will be fine watching you showcase the might of our realm from the safety of our spectator seats tomorrow.”
“Grogu will be with me in the fighting area.”
“No.”
“Cyar’ika, he will be fine.”
“He’s just a baby, Din!”
“And a Mandalorian apprentice. You’ve seen what a formidable fighter he’s already grown to be.”
And so on, and so forth – the two of you, the General and his Princess, spiritedly discussing and debating matters that affect your realm. The thought crosses your mind, not for the first time, that when you ascend the throne after your father you will need a ruling partner who challenges you like this: one who makes you wiser and forces you to expand your horizons, but trusts your compassion and tender heart, and who you trust to keep you and your kingdom safe. And as you always do when this thought naturally lends itself to an image of Din by your side, tall and proud as your King consort, you push it away as far as you can. It hurts too much to imagine something that seems to materialize so clearly and happily, as if it could actually become a reality, when you know it could never be.
The crowd in the arena is deafening. Already amped from the opening entertainment acts, they’re now cheering loud, calling for the main event.
Sitting front row in the Royal Box, you scan over the floor of the arena – knowing that it’s unlikely, but still hoping for a flash of silver beskar from behind one of the gates that line the sides of the arena floor, behind which lay the holding areas for the gladiator fighters selected for today’s match. Once or twice, you think you spy the sunlight catch something shiny from beneath the stands, but before you can look more closely, someone from the Flavian royal family will engage your attention. Though your mind never strays far from Din and his, your men, you cannot forget yourself or your role - your purpose for being in this arena today: you’re here to secure the continued prosperity your kingdom and strengthen your realm’s relationship with a long-standing ally.
If you’re honest, despite the trepidation that sits heavily atop your heart, you cannot help but be affected by the electricity of your environment. The stadium thrums and pulses with the excitement of thousands of Flavian citizens who have come out in the hot sun to partake in today’s festivities – you see children of all ages waving noisemakers and colourful flags, men and women young and old already cheering for who they anticipate to be today’s victors. Based on the chatter in your tent, the news of your General fighting today has spread like wildfire through the city – very few Flavians have ever seen a Mandalorian, never mind have the privilege of seeing one fight; today was going to be a day they remember for the rest of their lives. As for your companions in the Royal Box, you’re happy to see that your and Din’s assessment had been accurate – there is no underlying bloodlust or malevolent show of power associated with these fights, everything is only in good fun; your royal cohorts are all in splendid moods, showing genuine enthusiasm akin to the original spirit of the same games put on by their ancestors.
You’re just chatting amiably with the new Flavian king about having some of the wonderful Flavian wine and fruit you’ve enjoyed in the tent sent up to your room later, when a fanfare of trumpets echoes throughout the stadium announcing the start of today’s fight. The crowd quiets to a soft buzzing as the amphitheatre’s speakers announce the entrance of your fighters; the volume rises again as the audience goes wild when the might of your realm runs in through the gladiator’s entrance. You can’t help but beam, chest bursting with pride at the impression they make on the Flavian crowd – a big, broad Mandalorian General, towering in his stance and intimidating in his majestic armour, flanked by your guard: five of the strongest, most formidable soldiers from your father’s army.
You spy Grogu before the Flavian royals do, but it’s only because you know where to look. A perch for him has been attached to the side of his father’s jet pack so he can remain secure at Din’s shoulder during combat, but have the flexibility to jump off and join the fray if needed. The instant the Flavian prince spots him, he excitedly points him out to the others – and you take great pleasure in informing your hosts that they, in fact, have the honour of seeing two Mandalorians today.
With only a few moments before their opponents arrive in the arena, you take a closer look at your fighting contingent – they have been outfitted with Flavian weapons (swords, blasters, electro shields), the standard issue armament of your kingdom they normally carry nowhere in sight; the only exception is of course Din, who carries the gladiatorial weapons like the others and all of his usual weaponry – you chuckle to yourself, imagining the poor Flavian weapons master who tried to strip a Mandalorian of his religion.
A loud voice announcing the incoming fighters for Flavin 5 jerks you back to the scene before you. The crowd thunders as a squadron of battle droids nearly a hundred strong marches into the arena, each carrying varying sized blasters or blaster rifles in addition to their own swords, a few wielding double ended electro staffs. You barely have time to fret over how outnumbered Din and your troops are before the king is rising in his seat and giving the ceremonial hand gesture for the fight to begin.
You hear your General shout quick, decisive commands and his trusty men move swiftly into the desired formation, electro shields lit up and expanded in one coordinated movement. They advance as a team, strong and sure, every aim of their blasters true – each man practiced at covering the comrades at their sides as the droids begin shooting back.
When your men are close enough to the front line of the remaining droids, the intimidating battle cry you hear emanating from Din’s helmet is repeated in response at tenfold the volume by his men, a signal to shift fluidly into a tiered offensive formation that you recognize from watching their training on the palace grounds at home.
The legion moves with precision and speed, the crouched soldiers providing the impenetrable shielding needed by the men who stand tall as a precision sniper team that can’t be touched; your Mandalorian the tallest, unphased by the droid fire that bounces harmlessly off his beskar armour.
The formation is far more effective than the static positions of the droids and in almost no time at all, your fighters have driven the remaining thirty or so droids back towards the entrance gate. Answering another roared order, your contingent springs apart with an unrivalled ferocity to attack the remaining droids via direct combat.
Din cuts down mechanical fighter after mechanical fighter, mowing through the defensive lines of the Flavian droids that have none of his agility and lighting quick reflexes, bolstered by his trusted troops at his back who move with the confidence of men who have been trained by the best, used to fighting with the best.
Grogu has left his father, jumping from his perch onto and over droids with lightening speed - they shoot at him with their blasters only to miss their fast-moving green target every time and take each other out instead.
You watch their every move with bated breath – every bolt that connects with your realm’s armour quickens your breath, the clashing sounds of weapon on weapon too loud in your ears, and each hit or wound sustained by one of your men jolts a phantom pain through your own body.
When the last droid soldier falls, your men, your man, stand victorious at the epicenter of the arena; bloodied, exhausted to the point that the heaving of their chest plates can be seen from the Royal Box… but all standing.
You can hardly believe it - your heart exploding with pride, tears nearly springing from your eyes in relief. Looking to your hosts, you half expect them to congratulate you and acknowledge the victory of your fighters, but instead, you see them still engaged with the scene before them, eyes trained on the arena floor.
They smile with genuine excitement and anticipation, and your eyes snap back to Din and your soldiers at the sound of the brassy, melodic fanfare now being played throughout the stadium. The crowd rises to its feet with an ear-splitting roar as the orchestral horns continue to crescendo, announcing the coming of something.
You glance at the Flavian prince, his face alight with boyish joy – he’s excited in an almost childish way and when he sees you looking at him, he beams and points to one of the gates that’s now opening, voice elated, “Cliff beasts!”
Cliff beasts?!? You stand from your seat and rush to the edge of the balcony, gripping the railing and leaning as far as you can so you can see what new challenger is about to enter the arena. You gasp when you see it – a woolly beast larger than Din and his men combined, trotting out into the arena on four stubby but powerful legs. A magnificent horn, the length of which must span at least half of the creature’s massive body protrudes from its snout, thick and battle ready.
A mudhorn?? Of all the beasts to have entered the arena, what where the chances it would be the beast of Din’s clan signet? For a moment, you’re alarmed that maybe there have been unseen machinations at play and you’ve been blind to it all – that you’ve somehow failed in your diplomatic duties, failing your kingdom, your men, Din.
You study the Flavian prince who’s now proclaiming to his father, the king, “These cliff beasts are so large!” The two of them are enthusiastically waving and gesturing to the other attendees in the Royal Box, their chatter is of wonderment and genuine amazement at the sight of this creature that they’ve never before beheld on their planet - you conclude, with relief, that it has to be a coincidence. Wait, what did he mean – these?
Peering down into the arena again you see a second, smaller mudhorn ambling behind the first. A parent and its child! Your heart tightens, imagining how scared the two creatures have to be and how fiercely the adult will fight in order to protect its young. You catch Din’s visor pointed up at you from the arena floor and you know that he understands the distressed expression of your face perfectly.
Immediately, your General gathers his men and lays out his strategy – unknowable to the crowds of the arena, but you can read Din clear as day: he won’t cause harm to another living creature if he doesn’t have to.
Din and his soldiers slowly fan out, purposefully ignoring the young calf while surrounding the adult mudhorn. As expected, the mudhorn charges in attack. Trying to blink as little as possible for fear of missing anything, you watch wide-eyed as your men deftly leap and roll out of the path of the stampeding animal. When the mudhorn stops and turns back towards the perceived threat to its young, the soldiers surround it again – rocking on the balls of their feet ready to evade its charge again. They aren’t always as lucky or fast enough – you cry out in anguish whenever the Mudhorn makes contact, sending your guard flying, landing with a sickening thud on the arena floor from the force of the impact. The crowd gasps in worry, cheering louder than ever when your men get up to rejoin their brethren in repeating the same maneuver over and over.
Din’s plan is working, the mudhorn is getting tired.
Part of you is relieved, the other hopes that its fatigue doesn’t make the creature desperate; though your men are still standing, you don’t know if any of them can sustain more injury to their bodies – an increasing danger that only grows as Din and your soldiers begin tightening the proverbial noose. You spy Din protracting his fibercord whip from his vambrace by hand only seconds before he does what you suddenly realize he’s going to do. The mudhorn is pawing at the ground, exhausted and angry while your men surround it, now each only about an arm’s length away, when Din uses a jetpack blast to leap onto its back - throwing the whipcord around its horn and pulling back on his makeshift reins. The other men scatter and the crowd screams as your General rides the wildly bucking animal around the arena. At their General’s direction, your men are now divided between two tasks: half shoot at the galloping beast that unwillingly bears their fearless leader and his son, their blaster bolts a distraction but doing little to the mudhorn’s tough hide; the remaining men tasked with capturing and restraining the calf – the seemingly easier task.
Heart nearly in your throat, you watch as Grogu climbs down the front of his father’s arm and onto the mudhorn, quickly crawling to the top of its head where the massive horn joins the creature’s skull. With one of his little green hands holding onto the cord his father holds taut and the other placed directly on the mudhorn’s woolly head, you see Grogu close his eyes in concentration. Gradually, the mudhorn’s steps slow and its movements around the arena become unsteady, then wobbly, before it finally teeters and crashes onto its side fast asleep. Din jumps off just in time to avoid being crushed by the animal’s huge body - Grogu does a dramatic flip into the air at the same time and lands perfectly in his father’s waiting arms. The crowd roars its approval.
The Flavian royals next to you are on their feet, clapping and cheering with astonishment and admiration – congratulating you on the victory of your men and thanking you for the fantastic show you’ve provided them today. Clasping your hands in appreciation, they heartedly assure you that the documents confirming your planet’s trade routes will be completed and delivered to you tomorrow.
You express your appreciation before turning your attention back towards the arena, heart full - relieved and proud of the men still on the fighting floor. You have to admit they make quite the sight waving to the cheering crowds while standing next to a sleeping mudhorn, two of your lieutenants holding a makeshift leash with a smaller mudhorn standing docile at its end. To the admiring masses, the large beast was subdued by these men, the might of your realm, but you know the truth. You blow a little kiss to Grogu who pretends to catch it in his little hand before waving back, happy but somewhat tired.
Even with his helmet on you can read Din’s expression as he looks up to the Royal Box. Where is my kiss, mesh’la?
You smile back a playful smirk just for the unseen eyes behind the dark T-visor. Later.
You pace in the large, ornamental suite that your hosts have graciously provided – it’s beautiful, a true testament to Flavian luxury and craftsmanship, but you have no attention to spare for its finery. Not when you’re straining your ears to listen for footsteps coming down the hall, eyes continuing to dart towards your door as if for some reason you may have missed hearing them come.
“Princess…”
Your lady’s maids, Olivia and Serine, pace right along with you, following your tracks around the grand room. They’re as exhausted as you are, but you know their hearts to be as determined as your own; you give them the most indulgent look you can muster and any plea to ask you to rest dies on their lips. The three of you continue to take turns listening intently for the telltale sounds of a soldiers’ march.
Finally, you hear something. Faint but purposeful footsteps walking in synchronicity – the herald of well-trained soldiers with an intended destination. Perked, you look to your faithful companions with renewed vigor and sprint to your door, flinging it open without grace and hurrying into the dimly lit hallway.
They’re still far enough down the hall that you have some time, even with your hastened steps, to study how your men appear to be faring; you know that when you ask, they will insist they are fine so not to worry you.
Two of your country’s finest are limping slightly, one of your lieutenants and a captain. Your other lieutenant is walking fine, but he has a nasty gash on his forearm, dripped, half dried blood wrapping around his wrist like a terrible bracelet. The armour of your realm that the legion proudly wears has taken a beating, covered in evidence of today’s bout – marked, dirty and bloodied, but none of the men themselves appear to be grievously injured.
But it’s the man at the front of the pack that you study the most sincerely. Din’s gait is not too unfamiliar for you to suspect he’s hiding any serious injury - he would know better than that. After the battle on the Fields of Planoor he had learned not to conceal his injuries from you, that you were so familiar with his body and the way it moves, you would know something was wrong without a single word from him. As Din stalks towards your group, you can feel the hot gaze from behind his visor assessing you just as you assess him; your General holds himself a bit straighter, his massive frame puffing in pride. He bears no sign of serious injury, a little sigh of relief escapes your lips as you continue to run down the hall, Olivia and Serine hot on your heels. But his back is probably killing him.
The men stop to a coordinated halt as you reach them; their weapons sheathed, they each raise their left fists to their chests and bow, “Princess.”
You wave your hands in a graceful but frantic manner, dismissing this need for formality, “Please. Are you okay? Is everyone alright?”
Reaching for Grogu, your heart settles a little when he climbs down from his secured perch on his father’s shoulder and leaps into your arms. Fussing over him, you check his fuzzy green ears and sweet face for injuries; when you run your hands over his limbs and body to do the same, he coos and giggles as if being tickled. Resting your palm against the security of the beskar rondel he wears beneath his tunic, you exhale in contented relief and place a long kiss to his head. He’s okay.
Those same words are now being echoed out loud in the low modulated rasp of the voice you trust most in this galaxy, “He’s okay, Princess. Not a scratch on him, the little womp rat. The Lieutenant could do with some fresh dressings for his arm, but the rest of us are fine – a bit banged up and tired, but nothing a warm bath and a good night’s rest can’t fix.”
Knowing that Din’s helmet will give nothing away, you study the faces of your countrymen, trying to ascertain if their beloved General is downplaying the damage for your sake. Finding no deception in their eyes, and knowing that they know you would know, you relent, “Have you eaten?”
“We were given sustenance after our victory.”
You raise your eyebrow at this, suspecting that Din’s words answer only for his men, but not necessarily himself. Nodding, you give your final charge for the evening, “Olivia, Serine, please kindly see our brave soldiers to their rooms, run their baths and tend to them as needed.”
Your ladies-in-waiting curtsey in assent at your words and intuitively, Olivia extends her arms for Grogu – there are no secrets between you and your closest companions. Din nods at her and she takes her favourite little green playmate into her arms, happy to help clean him and put him to bed tonight while his father is otherwise occupied.
Din turns to face his men – similarly, there are no secrets between the General and his most trusted squadron, men who love their princess with an unyielding loyalty that rivals only his own. Your father’s soldiers salute their esteemed leader, bidding their Princess and General goodnight before following Olivia and Serine to their assigned quarters.
Silently, you take Din’s hand and lead him back down the hallway to your room, careful not to hurry should he be much battered and sore, though the urgency in your chest is nearly bubbling over. Your concern appears to have been unfounded because as soon as the door to your room shuts, Din sweeps you into his arms with a force that takes your breath away - crushing you to his chest so tightly that you can feel him deflate beneath the hard beskar as he exhales his own long held sigh of relief.
You chuckle, “You would have thought that I was the one fighting cliff beasts in the arena today.”
“Cliff beasts?” Din tilts his head quizzically at you.
“I’ll tell you later. Right now, let’s get you out of your armour,” your fingers slide under his pauldrons, feeling for the familiar release mechanism.
“Cyar’ika, if you wanted to have your way with me, you only had to ask - you didn’t need to send me into a fight arena with a mudhorn,” jokes Din, wincing slightly from the stretch of his muscles as they contract and relax with the weight of his armour being lifted from his aching body.
You cluck your tongue in playful disapproval, even as you continue to make quick work of removing the rest of Din’s armour. With now practiced precision, you lift off his chest plates and the attachment frame, unhook his jetpack, unclip his cape, slide off his vambraces, unstrap his thigh plates, unlace his boots, unbuckle his belt, unzip his flight suit. The ceremony of this process is one you will never tire of, nor is its significance lost on you.
Din, a Mandalorian, willingly lets you touch his armour and remove it from his body – trusting your delicate hands with his most precious property: the physical embodiment of his honour and creed, the very symbol of his people. Not only that, but he allows you to strip him of protection and reveal his vulnerability to you, exposing him and his softness – he exists as the man beneath the beskar for you and you only. You’re the most privileged being in the galaxy – the weight of Din’s trust in you is something you will never take for granted.
When Din stands before you in only his boxers and helmet, you begin your study of his body in earnest. Dancing your fingers across his hard and tanned chest, you trace old scars in order to separate them from new marks; palming his torso and checking his thick arms with the same careful hands. Rounding your warrior, you continue your roaming examination over his muscular back and listen intently for any change in Din’s breathing when you press down on his tense shoulders – relieved when you hear him groan in satisfaction instead of pain. As you’re lightly scraping your nails over his wide thighs you hear the telltale unclicking of Din’s helmet – he beckons you.
Rising to meet his lowering face, you use your thumbs to lift the brim of Din’s helmet slightly, always keeping your eyes closed so you don’t see any of his face – not for the world would you betray Din’s trust. Mouth finding his easily, you kiss Din gingerly – unsure of what injuries he may have sustained beneath his helmet; lightly pecking his soft pout and pressing restrained affection to the corner of his mouth.
“I’m not going to break, cyare,” Din grins as if he’s reading your mind.
Snapping down his helmet with a bit more force than necessary, you peer up into the black horizonal stripe of his visor and sniffle, “I can see some big bruises starting to form over your abdomen and on the back of your thighs. And the muscles of your arms and back are overstrained and need to loosen or you’re going to be more sore tomorrow than you already will be.” The emotions you held in all day now start to spill over your lash line; dropping your head, you cry softly at the toll today’s events have taken on your strong man’s body and how he bears it without complaint. Contrite and indebted that he sustained these injuries at the behest of your kingdom - your behest, for you.
Din gathers you in his arms and pulls you flush to his chest, tilting back his helmet again he kisses you lovingly, devotedly – with every stroke of his tongue, every nibble of your lips, he reminds you that it is not only his duty, but his honour to serve your kingdom, to serve you. He would do anything for you, without you ever having to bid it. It is not in him to deny you anything, his heart’s desire is to give you everything.
“I love you, Princess.”
“I love you, General.”
Not without some difficulty, you pull yourself out of Din’s embrace and lead him to the suite’s fresher, running the taps of the large tub and scenting the water with fragrant, healing oils.
“I can do that, mesh’la,” one of Din’s large meaty hands covers yours as you test the temperature of the water.
Shaking your head shyly, you bring that hand up to your lips and kiss its calloused knuckles, “Please. Let me serve you, Din.”
“That is not befitting of a princess.”
“I am not like other princesses.”
Tilting your chin up with two of his thick fingers, you can feel the smile behind Din’s next words, “No, you are not. There is no one like you in the galaxy.”
“And I’m yours.”
The helmet, never having been relocked, is lifted again and Din sweeps you into a passionate, hungry kiss, different than the reassuring and devoted kisses of earlier – deeper, greedier.
“Get in the tub, Din,” you murmur against his lips while you can, before you forget your task and give yourself over to him completely.
Chuckling, Din can only acquiesce whenever he hears a direct request from your mouth – he never hears you command him as his sovereign, only ever as his love. No matter – he would obey either way. Stripping off his boxers, helmet still on, Din slips into the steamy water of the deep soaker tub, letting out a heady groan at the way all his muscles relax in reaction to the sudden heat against his rough skin.
With a soft footedness that still surprises Din, so used to picking up every little sound with his helmet’s acoustic sensors, you reappear suddenly with a small tray table bearing various Flavian fruits and wine for Din and a thin silk scarf for you.
“I know you didn’t eat after the match,” you say matter-of-factly when Din tilts his helmet in question. Neither did you.
“Will you join me, cyar’ika?”
“Of course, my love,” you begin to disrobe, perfectly understanding the double meaning of your General’s question.
Though he’s seen and worshipped your naked form more times that you can count, there’s always something about being unable to see the eyes that devour you which makes you shy. Able to detect the rise in temperature of your face, your bashfulness amuses Din to no end – if only you could see his own expression; every time Din sees you bare before him is like the first time, he thinks you might even laugh at the slack jawed, awestruck expression hidden by his helmet – if Mandalorians were to believe in a literal afterlife, then Din could well be deemed a heretic for he’s sure he’s already seen heaven.
Stepping in the tub, careful not to trip over Din’s strong legs, you settle on your knees in the water near his feet; taking the wash towel from the side of the tub, you lather it up with your own luxurious cleanser, the scent of which you know Din loves and begin to wash his body. With great care and affection, you wash and massage Din’s feet, calves and thick thighs, the two of you quietly chatting about your individual perspectives on what transpired in the arena today as you move up his body with your loving touch.
Din groans when you wash his groin area, and you smirk and pretend to throw him a look of disapproval even as you stroke his fast-hardening cock with the washcloth.
“Cyare…” he strains.
“Hmmmm?” Humming, you shimmy to straddle his lap and innocently begin to wash his hard chest and tree trunk arms.
“You’re teasing…”
“Not at all, I’m cleaning,” you giggle. Rising onto your knees, you lean over Din’s mountainous shoulder to clean his back, dangling your wet, supple breasts right at helmet visor level. Definitely teasing.
Two can play at this game. Din’s modulator muffles his snicker as he makes sure you’re entirely engrossed in your task of scrubbing his back, concentrating adorably so that you don’t notice when his big paws reach for your chest, groping and kneading the pillowy flesh with hardly any warning.
You squeal and grind down on Din’s cock - in retaliation he zeros in on your already pert nipples, rough fingers roll and pinch, flick and tug your pretty peaks until you forget your work and bury your face into his shoulder, completely lost to the pleasure that only the General can give you.
“Din,” your voice a soft whimper, needy yet still regal and melodic, “… you have to…”
“What do I have to do, Princess?”
His teasing tone makes you gush; this man knows exactly what he’s doing – you try to claw back some semblance of control over the situation, “You need to let me tend to any injuries you may have sustained under your helmet. And let me wash your hair.”
“Oh, do I?”
Nodding in earnest with your eyebrows raised, “Yes, and then you have to rest. Your body needs it.”
“My body needs you, mesh’la.”
Leaning back, your eyes follow the trail of your fingers as they rake down the smooth skin of Din’s broad chest, slowing over the various long-healed scars whose tales of origin you know by heart, you prepare yourself to argue your way. But the truth is, you don’t want your way – you need Din, too. Here on Flavin 5, there is no fear of getting caught, no need for hurried kisses or fleeting touches – the two of you have time. Time to enjoy one another. Time to let your hearts run rampant with affection and want.
Tomorrow morning is the last morning you can wake lazily in Din’s arms, like any other couple waking to just another day in the rest of your lives together. Tomorrow you will return home and your love for your steady warrior will once again need to be tucked away close to your heart, safe from the prying eyes of the kingdom.
So, you don’t argue.
“Injuries first, General.”
“I have none, Princess.” You can feel Din’s shit eating grin radiating from behind the beskar.
Grinding down a little on Din’s hardening length as a warning, “I should like to see for myself, thanks.”
“Of course, mesh’la. I would see you satisfied.” Though still smirking, it’s with enormous feeling that Din picks up the scarf from the side table and with his practiced hand, covers your eyes; wrapping the silk around your head twice before tying it securely. He doesn’t ask you if you can see, knowing that if you could you would volunteer it. Sitting prettily with your hands clasped together, you wait for the welcomed sound of Din’s helmet being lifted and set down where you scarf previously lay.
Heart full, your hands reach out to gently touch Din’s face, fingers tracing over the most intimate part of the man you love. His jaw relaxes as you stroke though his facial hair and his plush lips curl as your thumb brushes over them. Din’s strong nose feels unbroken, thank goodness – your gentle kiss to the tip earns you a breathy chuckle that tickles your throat. Mapping the strong lines of his forehead, you discover your first wound at Din’s hairline – the soft curls of his brown (or so you’re told) hair already matted and sticking with dried blood. When your fingers caress Din’s temple, you find a small superficial cut by his left eye, and your heart tightens further upon feeling a nastier slice on the apple of his cheek. Even without seeing and Din giving away no hint of tenderness at your touch, you’re sure there are bruises starting to form on the face you love.
Though you’ve never seen it, you know Din’s face – positive that you could pick it out of a crowd as surely as you could your own in a mirror. It’s the face of the strongest warrior you’ve ever known, one whose honour and integrity is as unbreakable as the beskar armour that covers his body. A protector who fights without fail to defend the weak, uphold justice, and push back against tyranny and corruption – no matter how hard something may be or the risk to his own self, the man who bears this face will never back down, always standing up for what’s right. It’s the face of a man who loves fiercely – loves his Creed, his people, his duty, his son, his woman. You. You know the face of this man, the man who owns your heart, your body, your soul - wholly and completely.
You wash this face, carefully cleaning your discoveries. Then, before you wash his hair, you cradle Din’s head delicately and check for bumps and scrapes, sighing in relief when you find none. Lathering up a generous amount of your shampoo, you distribute it through Din’s curls, massaging his scalp as he groans in approval. Your smile at the sound could melt even the steeliest warrior’s heart, Din is sure – it melts his.
When his hair is rinsed and face pat dry, salve applied to his wounds, you attempt to get Din to eat from the food on the tray.
“After, Princess,” Din’s voice somehow lower than when it’s filtered through his modulator.
“After what?” you pretend to be confused.
“After I have what I’m truly hungry for,” you can feel the sides of his face lift beneath your hands as the curve of his mouth pulls up into a wicked grin.
You flash him what you think is a mirroring smirk, “And what is that, General?”
Din takes an excruciating long time trailing his fingers featherlike down the column of your throat as an answer. His massive hand skate over your naked breasts, pinky pretending to be caught on your pert nipple before catching up with its brethren that have moved on to tickling your soft tummy. When his hand finally dips below the water, it’s no more hurried, no less teasing – knuckling down the front of you, his hand so big and wide, his thumb and baby finger stretch to slowly stroke along the apex of your thighs at the same time with no additional effort at all. You quiver at your warrior’s languid and gentle touch – that these same hands are trained for weapons and brutality is not lost on you; how lucky are you to be able to feel them as they are now, so close to where you need them, reverent and worshipful. Hands meant for building up and protecting, instead of tearing down and destroying - and yet you know them capable of both - and moreover, that they can and will do both to you.
Leaning forward to press your lips tenderly to Din’s, you whisper, “Promise you’ll eat after?”
He knows the condition of the ask is empty - you need him as much as he does you, both of you hungry for more than the food your empty stomachs growl for. The worry you felt for your Mandalorian every second he was in the arena today has morphed into a blazing desire now that you have him secure once again in your loving arms; even when he was facing blaster fire or the murderous glare of a mudhorn today, Din’s thoughts never strayed far from the moment he could return to your warm embrace.
But he plays along, because he knows you need to hear it, “I promise, cyare.” And then, because your well being is always as much on the forefront of his mind as his is yours, Din adds, “As long as you eat with me.”
“Promise. Now touch me please, Din,” you’re trembling, not just from want but need, a need for the reassurance that he’s here safe, that the violence you saw in the arena did not touch him.
Even if he had not pledged his fealty to your kingdom, Din would submit to your request, to you – if it were up to him, he would spend the remainder of his days catering to your every whim, carrying out your will, doing anything and everything necessary to ensure your happiness.
He parts your folds with his fingers, finding you slick and ready for him. As Din glides his thick digits along your seam, your soft moans fill the steamy room, “Ohhh Din, yes right there, please.”
“Such a polite little princess, isn’t she?” hums Din, loving how responsive you always are for him. He kisses down your neck, nipping at your shoulder as you come to a rest against his chest. You’re shuddering from the way he’s stroking your pussy, swirling infuriatingly at your needy hole but never dipping inside, teasing you with long broad swipes up to your clit.
Pressing his thumb against your already slippery nub, Din takes advantage of your lack of sight and surprises you by dipping his head down to take one of your breasts in his mouth at the same time – you cry out from this sudden double attack, body trying to run.
The old bounty hunter in him activated, Din chuckles and increases the pressure of his hand on your pulsing clit, and with his free hand, he holds you firm by the nape of your neck - face now buried deep in your cleavage, biting and sucking every bit of soft flesh his mouth can find. Rolling your pert nipple between his teeth, he seals his lips over the sensitive peak and murmurs, “I got you, mesh’la. Let me make you feel good.”
At his sure words, you immediately relax and willingly giving yourself over to your warrior, sighing in surrender as he worships you with his fingers and his mouth. This is the only time that you allow yourself to be covetous of what is not rightfully yours – Din’s face you may know without having ever seen, but the lascivious sight of what he looks like when he loses himself in your pleasure remains a mystery. You secretly long to see it – wishing to know how dark his eyes burn, how his lips wet and plump, how his brow might furrow or relax in reaction to your whines and whimpers.
If you were his riduur – no. No, you can’t let yourself go down that path of longing, it only ends in heartbreak.
As if he can sense that your mind has started to wander, Din slips two of his thick fingers deep in your heat and curls them, beckoning you back to him. You fly right back into the moment and to the space of devotion that he holds just for you, gasping for air at the stretch of his welcomed intrusion.
“Need to get you ready for my cock, cyare,” purrs your Mandalorian, bringing you back fully and binding your heart to his in the here and now.
Nodding almost mindlessly, you crash your mouth to Din’s. The kiss is desperate, needy for so many reasons – your tongues licking and chasing, dancing to the song of perfect pleasure that strums along the electric current that connects you. Din feverishly conducts the symphony of your body – grand upward motions of his fingers in your cunt send waves of bliss that crescendo through your core; the sweeping of his lips against yours keeps you in tempo with his own urgency; his rolling downward gestures on your clit coils the band below your belly tighter and tighter.
No one can play you like Din can – beneath the beskar armour he’s a master musician, lover. Like the weapons he so deftly wields and handles, your body is an instrument he knows intimately – every shift, slight change or tensing is noted and adjusted for so he can optimize performance, maximize your pleasure. Din knows you’re going to come before you do by the key in which your breath hitches, the cadence of your fluttering walls.
“Come for me, Princess,” he growls, biting down on your plush bottom lip. Now it’s your turn to obey – you come with an arch of your back and a chorus sung to your General’s name, Din, Din, Din, Din.
Here you can be as loud for as long as you want and Din can fuck you through your high for as long as you need, withdrawing his fingers and licking them clean only when your cunt is complacent enough to release him, “Always taste so sweet, cyar’ika.” You sigh at the filthy sounds of another forbidden sight you long, lust for.
Lips finding his again, you taste yourself on Din’s tongue and tease, “I thought we were eating after.”
This time it’s Din’s turn to act coy, repeating your question from earlier with a knowing smirk against your pout, “After what?”
In response, you reach between your bodies and even without the benefit of sight, easily find Din’s hard, throbbing cock. Stroking his length with your delicate hands, you lift to line him up with your entrance and wordlessly sink down, “After you come, General.”
“As you wish, Princess,” Din groans at the way your pussy hugs him. When you feel him shift beneath you to plant his feet on the bottom of the tub, you stop Din with a hand on his wide chest and shake your head, “You’re tired and your body needs rest, my love. Let me do the work.”
Big, loving hands come up to cradle your head and a playful but reverent tone accompanies Din’s protest, “A General’s duty is to serve his Princess.” You tilt into his paw and nuzzle; your Mandalorian’s affectionate touch and the feeling of fullness combine in making you compliant. Leaning in close you ghost over Din’s lips, “Together then.”
Half awestruck, half groaning in agreement, Din slides his hands back down your soft body to come to a rest on your waist, holding you gentle and secure, “Together.”
It’s easy to find the perfect rhythm, your bodies already so in tune with one another. Din’s slow upward thrusts meet your lighter bounces halfway, causing the water of your bath to ripple and splash against the sides of the tub. It’s tender and patient until it isn’t – with no communication other than your soft whinnying and Din’s grunts and heavy breathing, your tempo and intensity remain matched, building together.
Always together. How you love being together with your Mandalorian. How you love him.
You press yourself to Din, the rise and fall of his chest grounding you as your hips work in tandem with his. Arms snaking around his neck, you cling to the General as your joint movements become more fervent and passionate, the water now choppy from your lovemaking.
Together. Everything is better when you’re together. You were able to get through today, together.
Love, relief and gratitude flood your pleasure wracked body as you crawl up Din’s broad mountain frame to find his lips. Latching your mouth to your Mandalorian’s, you kiss him heady and desperate. Every press of your plush and swollen pout thankful for his survival, of today’s fight and of all the fights that came before today so that he could come into your life. A thank you to maybe that same mystical force that gives Grogu his unexplainable powers, for making the man that fills you so full at the moment the warrior, the father, the man is. Thankful that he loves you. For all of him.
Din meets every brush of your lips with the same devotion, somehow able to read the emotion behind your eyes without seeing them - the same way you’re able to read him even when he’s hidden behind his helmet. He himself grateful for bringing his son and your countrymen back to you safe, for being the one to give you what you needed for the success of your mission. A thank you to that same power than runs in his son’s veins and makes him a warrior far stronger than Din could ever be, for bringing him to you. Grateful that a woman as regal, compassionate, and kind as you saw past his hard armoured exterior to the man beneath and holds him in your esteem. And in your heart.
“Ni kar'tayl darasuum gar,” Din growls with a deep rumble of his chest that echoes off the walls. I love you.
“Ni kar'tayl darasuum gar,” you cry back in the perfect pronunciation that Din taught you. I love you.
Neither of you able to hold back your love for one another nor the crest of your bodies any longer – coming together, lyrical song sung loud and shameless. The Princess and the General have nothing to hide here, tonight.
Later, after you’ve each eaten and drank your fill of Falvian fruits and wine, and you’ve massaged and kneaded Din’s sore muscles until you’re satisfied with the way his aches have melted away, Din guides you, still blindfolded, out of the cooled bath to the bed.
With Din protectively hovering over your naked body ready to take you again, you realize that as thankful as you’ve been feeling, you haven’t actually acknowledged those sentiments out loud to the man to whom you owe everything, “Thank you, Din. Thank you for being the might of the realm.”
Though he knows you cannot see them, Din’s eyes fill with a love he hopes he can properly convey in other ways, “No need to thank me, cyar’ika, it will always be my honour to fight for you. You must know - you are the might of the realm. The realm prospers and remains strong because its Princess is brave, smart, good. You’re everything, mesh’la. You’re my might – I can only do the things I can because I do them for you. I would do anything for you.”
You feel the scarf you wear across your eyes dampen as it absorbs your tears, “I know, Din.” Happy, content, you welcome your General between your legs once more; and with the rare luxury of time and freedom that the two of you have been gifted tonight, you know it won’t be the last time.
#the glandolorian 2024#din djarin#din djarin fic#din djarin fanfiction#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#din djarin x female reader#pedro pascal characters fanfiction#pedro pascal characters
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Entrenadora (Alexia Putellas X Reader)
It has been absolutely forever since I have written anything, but this idea came to me and has been stuck ever since. I have more ideas for where this could go but would like to see if this idea is even interesting first. Please let me know what we think, as I fear I am washed up and my stories suck
Crouched down on the sideline, all you could do is watch as the #10 on your team cuts back across the top of the 18 shaking the defender and curls the ball into the top corner. You jumped up and could feel the bench behind you also jumping up and you watch on as the girls on the field surround the goal scorer as they celebrate.
the feeling of your assistant coach slapping you on the back and say in“You were right the girls practicing the cutbacks paid off!” brings you back to the game at the moment.
You smile and see the bench settle behind you and turn back to watch your team run back to get set for the kick off and you clap and yell out “come on girls, stay solid for 3 more mins, we got this!”
The next few minutes pass by slowly, as you pace the sidelines occasionally yelling out instructions, but when the final whistle goes you can feel the relief settle in. You watch as the bench runs out on to the field and surround their goalie celebrating the semi final victory. You follow the team out and work your way through congratulating your players, but when your #10 who also happens to be your 10 year old niece wraps you in big hug you smile extra big.
“That was a sweet goal Cami!” you tell her as she pulls back form you.
“You taught me how to do that Tia!” she smiles up at you, and you cant help to pinch her cheek and she squeals and turns to celebrate with her teammates.
You walk back towards the bench, after shaking the other teams coaches hands, and you start packing up your stuff and make sure the girls haven’t left anything lying about. You turn to get the girls to start cool downs, and you notice that your assistant coach has already got the team cooling down.
Using the moment to stand there and think back on what you need to do for the afternoon prior to the final later in the evening. You fail to notice your brother come up behind you and squeeze your shoulders.
You jump and turn to see him standing there and you whack him on the shoulder and say “you’re an ass.”
He smirks and says “congrats on the win coach!”
“Good thing you brought me in, you never would have got them to a final” you tease him with smile.
He chuckles and says “ouch, I wanted to coach but no parents were allowed.”
“thank god you have such an awesome sister then” you smirk at him and move to gather your stuff as the team comes over to get their bags and move off the field.
You cant help but smile at your big brother and your niece talking about the game as you follow them across the field. You follow them to your cars, and plans are made for the 3 hour window the team has before the final, to get the girls fed. You take a second to look at the schedule and see the other semi final is being played now and you decide to go and watch and scout the teams.
You make your way towards the field the game is being played on and you find an empty spot towards a corner flag to stand in and watch. You are lost in the game that you don’t notice someone else coming to stand near you, and when you say something out loud about how stupid of a play that was you do not expect to hear a response.
“si, I agree, would have been better to play the ball to the wing” the voice beside you says.
You turn and see a stunning women, clad in Barcelona shorts and a half zip with a black ball cap on. It takes you a second but you finally respond with “or the ball should have been cycled back and not forced into a play.”
“The centre back has a good range, she could have made a better attack” she says to you.
The two of you go back and forth for the next few minutes before a goal is scored the way you both were just describing. You both laugh and you say to her “seems we both had a good grasp on the game.”
“si, its refreshing to talk to someone who sees the game as a whole” she smiles at you. Before you can say anything else she asks “did you see that pass?”
“it was a waste of an opportunity” you reply back. It starts your conversation back up and you continue to discuss the tactics of the game in front of you. It lasts for the rest of the game, when your phone rings and its your brother calling and you turn to her and say “excuse me, I need to take this.”
“I should go anyway, I enjoyed talking with you!” she says with a wink and she turns and moves away.
You watch for a moment and walk the other way answering the phone to your brother, and you cant help but think that you would like to be able to talk to her again. When the time comes for your team to warm up, you completely forget about the conversation you had with the cute woman, and you focus fully on the game.
When your team comes out the victors and after the celebrating dies down and you are standing in line waiting for the medal ceremony do you see her again. She is standing behind the convenor of the tournament with 2 other women dressed in the same outfit she’s wearing. You hear the convenor making a speech about the tournament and then introduces the 3 Barcelona Women players that are there to present the medals does it click who she is.
You can feel the heat to your cheeks as you remember how you just spoke tactics with one of the best players in the world. You have to follow the team through the motions of getting the medals and you can barley look her in the eye as she places medal over your head. Luckily team pictures take priority and getting the team squared away takes up your team before you can continue to overthink it.
When the madness dies down and a few people are left straggling around you find your self alone on the field. You are not alone for long when she steps up beside you and says “congratulations coach.”
You turn to her and say “Gracias, but my name is Y/N” as you turn to hold your hand out to her.
“Alexia” she says and shakes your hand with a smile.
You try to ignore the tingling up your arm as she shakes it and you ask “Why didn’t you tell me who I was talking to earlier?”
She shrugged and says “does it matter? I enjoyed the tactics talk with someone who has the same view of the game as me.”
“I mean I could have at least rolled out the red carpet, or maybe gone and watched some game play footage of how you move on the field” you chuckle back to her.
She smiles and says “Oh you would have watched me?”
You shrug and say “for purely tactical reasons only.”
She laughs out loud at that and says “can I take you for a drink to pick your brain about how my body moves?”
“thats tempting for purely tactical reasons, but I promised my niece I would come celebrate the teams win with her tonight” You softly smile at her.
She places her hand on your arm and smiles “you coach your nieces team here?”
“si I do.”
“thats very sweet of you” she squeezes your arm and continues “can we take a rain check?”
Nodding you move back a few steps to dig into your bag for your clipboard, and you write your number down and rip a piece off to hand to her and you say “call me for a rain check Alexia.”
She smiles with a chuckle and says “I see what you did there, but I will be calling you for purely tactical reasons.”
“I should go catch up with my niece.”
“you should” and she moves closer to you and press a kiss to your cheek and says “You’ll be hearing from me.”
You watch as she jogs away to her other team mates and you move to meet your brother and niece in the parking lot. Your brother sees you coming and asks “what took you so long?”
“Nothing, I was just taking it all in” you tell him with a smile.
“mhm the blush on your cheek says otherwise baby sister.” he teases you and before you can swat at him he moves out of the way and says “now come on Cami is waiting for us.”
***
The following morning as you are walking into your first class of the day you feel your watch buzz with a new message, you see it was an incoming message and you glance down quickly to notice it was an unknown number. Before you can read it you are at the door of your class room and you walk in and place your stuff down at the front podium. Looking up as you are connecting your laptop the lecture hall is about 3/4 full with 2 minutes to class to start.
As your laptop boots up you can help but check your messages and you immediately can feel the smile and blush work the way up your cheeks.
Unknown: Figured Id let you get a head start on the purely tactical reasons to watch me, and send you a link to the last goal I scored, I wont tell anyone if you watch it back a few times. But I would like to hear all about how my body moves from your perspective over dinner?
Unknown: Also Hi, from the cute footballer you gave your number to, who would also like to be able to study how you move, again for purely tactical reasons ;)
#alexia putellas imagine#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas#espwnt x reader#woso imagines#woso x reader#woso imagine
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I am binge reading your work and I love your Price characterisation so much! Can you please go into detail what you his childhood looked like and what led him to be this angry, stubborn man who is fixated on saving the world at all costs
this is basically a reinterpretation of opening Pandora's box but instead of releasing great evils, it's just me yapping non-stop about John Price whenever i get the opportunity. but i cut a lot out because it was getting too long, so this is a brief summary on what made John Price the way that he is;
re: abuse (physical, mental, emotional; of authoritative power).
Nepo-baby. Born into Military Royalty. The Price name has a lot of sway in the government. Probably lived in Hereford going up before moving to Liverpool at 18. Realistically, Price has no other career choices because I can't see Mr "threatens to hang superior officers" sitting in a cubical and expected to hit quotas without catching several charges for assault and battery when his temper gets the best of him. And it always does.
His homelife was bad (but absolutely nothing compared to Simon's). His dad was just a staunch disciplinarian groomed by the traditional values of 40s-60s England. The typical "father works to provide for his family all day and then comes home to quiet, respectable children neither seen nor heard with food already on the table waiting for him and a wife that only speaks when spoken to and only ever to agree with her husband (and a lil bit of female "orgasm"????? by god! they've brought witchcraft back to the land of her Majesty the Queen!)"
He has an angry, uncompromising father with a temper and a mother who says thinks like, "well if *you* didn't make him angry, then you wouldn't have gotten yourself a black eye."
His dad was very physically abusive to both of them. Price really tried to stick up for his mum, but that would just set his dad off even more. And afterwards, his mum would just side with his dad, anyway. But on the flipside, I think she expected Price to protect her. So when he didn't (because he's a literal child!!), she'd get angry. But she obviously can't lash out like her husband or even her child, so uses the only weapon she has to gain some semblance of control: manipulation.
Price takes pieces of both his parents. His father, the physical aggressor, and his mother, the manipulative victim. And she is a victim, very much so. But I also think she pits them against each other. Gets bored. Causes issues. But there's power in getting someone to do what you want, and that's how she takes hers.
Price catches on to her in his early teens, but that's still his mother. Even though they have a very rocky relationship, she's still the Victim in his head, even when she's whispering in his dad's ear about all the things she despises about her son. And then going to Price (after his dad does something about it - again: disciplinarian, control freak) and playing the pitiful mother subjected to her husband's tyranny and a sad, weak son who can't do a single thing to protect her when she needs him.
Price learns to manipulate from her. Emotional blackmail. Victim-complex. Gaslighting. Scapegoating. But the biggest takeaway is the way he shifts the victim-complex into heroism (esp with Gaz). They can't be the bad guys. It's a logical fallacy in his mind. They're the ones saving the world, and if the world wasn't so riddled with bad guys, with people who need projecting, then they wouldn't need to do what they do.
I think Price has a bit of animosity towards people he sees as weaker (re: his mum having to share the victimhood with her son). But this animosity can also rear as obsession. He's the only person who can save you/them/the world. And since you/they/the world can't save yourself, then you should just listen to him.
And if you don't. Well, that's going to be a pretty big problem.
Honestly on the fence about siblings. If he has any, it's probably an older sister and she's either the equivalent of Janice Soprano (minus any of the backbone and ambition) or Barbara, resigned to her life and utterly forgetful. but I kinda like the idea of him not having any siblings to weather the storm with, you know? Like, it's just him and a mother who victim blames and ignores, and he gets the brunt of his dad's anger.
He was an obnoxious kid to be around. Probably really tried to impress his dad by adopting all of his values; baby misogyny, bite-sized authoritarianism, military fiscalism/military–industrial complex, militarism, etc., before realising (earlyyyyy teens) that he hates his dad and everything he stands for (but I'm a SUCKER for letting Price suffer and I love cyclicity and generational trauma so naturally, as much as he tries to run from the ghost of his dad, it still lingers - just in different ways; the worst thing you could ever say to Price is, you're just like your father).
Turned into a moody teen in the 80s/90s. His anger is a hair trigger. Utterly uncontrollable. But by this time, he learned to hide it because his dad's way of idealing with trauma was to add more. Therapists are pseudoscience, so he taught Price that men just bury these things. And if you can't, then you should be put down like a dog.
The assessment of a man's character was entirely based on the military tests he passed. And with Price's anger, trauma, he probably shouldn't have passed the evaluations, but since his dad, his grandfather, his great-grandfather, were all military dogs, he learned how to beat it. He's also really good at manipulating people.
I think between 16-17 there was a real attempt to do something that wasn't the military and I haven't decided which one I like better but:
He gets a job (as a port worker or in a factory). The Price name has no sway here (and baby Price grew up surrounded by people who knew his family, who revered them for their service to the country, etc). If he wants to make it, it has to be by his own merit. The problem is, while he's a hard worker, his trauma (men who remind him of his father, women who are too much like his mother) causes an incredible rift between him and authority.
If his boss is a man just like his dad, then Price is a match in a tinderbox.
If he isn't, to Price (who has only just learned to hold his tongue), the idea of a nobody being in a position of power over him will also set him off.
Either way, he's doomed.
If he man is a beast that no one can stand up to, and gets away with things because he's the boss, then Price's temper would flare pretty quickly. Especially if he comes after Price. Bullies him. Belittles him. But the worst is the humiliation. He ends up beating his boss very badly, terrifying the men around him but in their fear, and how quickly they listen to him because of it, Price realises he likes it. That fear can be weaponized. Honed.
Or: same situation, but if you lean more towards Price looking out for the underdog rather than his own self-interest, then he sticks up for someone and beats his boss to protect them. Everyone's still afraid of him, but they revere him. They do what he asks. This version, he realises that respect can be weaponized.
(and if the man is not like his dad, then Price will antagonise him into action. He'd throw the first punch, and Price will retaliate. It would still go too far, but - Nepo baby, weaponized fear: the outcome would be the same.)
He gets taken into custody. The tell him his boss is not going to make it. But Price's dad exercises every ounce of power to get his son out of trouble (because this will look very bad on them), and Price leans several things which shape him as an adult: his name has a lot of power; rules and regulations and just policing won't stop bad people unless you take it into your own hands once and for all, and people listen to him and that either version of the above can be weaponized.
He'd probably take the military a bit more seriously but only because he's trying to get vengeance for himself (even if this is subconscious and he doesn't realise it). He leaves at 18. Joins. And climbs the ranks higher than his dad.
At first, there's a concerted effort to do good but something cracks. Builds. Eventually Price comes to the conclusion that he'll have to take a more hands-on approach and get them a little bloody if he wants real change.
I have a lot of thoughts of military-dog Price. But!! That's basically it.
Shaped by physical, mental, emotional abuse; leans into the poor rich kid trope slightly. It all manifests more when he climbs the ranks, gets freedom, and realises that only he can do what needs to be done.
#his complex relationship with his mother (the one i made up inside of my head)#is also why i cannot see him as a brat tamer#he wants the opposite of his mother and a brat is just not that#ahhhhh anyway!!!! thank you letting me yap!!!#john price#john price headcanons
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What kind of wounds would a shotgun give to someone thats not wearing any bullet proof vest but just thick, winter jackets? Like those heavy jackets with fleece on the inside that old guys wear alot. ( I think its called a work jacket?)
I've always thought a shot gun would give some sort of blast damage and make quite a mess, but in The Day of The Jackal ep 6 it didn't seem that bad when he killed that farmer guy in Hungary lol.
So here's a fun thought to play with. A leather jacket is made from treated animal hide. In most cases, they're actually softened a bit to be more comfortable.
Shotguns are frequently used to hunt large game. Large game where their primary form of armor is their skin. Their skin which does almost nothing to stop a shotgun blast.
So, unless it's loaded with something like rocksalt, a leather jacket is not stopping a shotgun.
In answer to your original question, “what kind of wounds?” Catastrophic ones. It would be really messy.
Also, remember shotguns are still usable up to ~100 meters, at which they'll have a roughly 2m spray pattern. Getting hit by a shotgun, even at 50 meters, is going to be really bad. It's a bit like hitting someone simultaneously with a hail of small caliber rounds. Individually one piece of shot isn't likely to be lethal, but get hit with five or six of them, and that's a real problem. It's going to create a bunch of wound channels, and each wound has a chance to hit something vital, or ricochet and try again. And even at best, you're going to be losing blood from each of them simultaneously.
As for actual armor, most Level III or higher armor should stop a shotgun blast. However, shotguns are pretty good at damaging body armor. So someone wearing a ballistic vest who takes a shotgun hit, probably isn't going to be safe from the next pistol round that hits their vest anywhere near where the shot landed.
Similarly, with plate carriers, it should be fine, but there's a real risk that some of the shot chipped the plate. That's not going to cause the next shotgun blast to punch through, but it does mean that carrier now can't be trusted to stop rifle rounds.
Now, none of that are things you usually obsess over. For the most part, ballistic armor is single use anyway. If you're wearing a Kevlar vest and get shot, it's time to replace that vest. So, having your vest soak a shotgun hit isn't some kind of special tactic on your enemy's part, and is really just your vest doing its job.
Against unarmored targets, shotguns can be downright horrific.
So, using a winter parka to stop a shotgun blast is probably the result of someone who heard the, “shotguns are horrible at armor penetration,” line and took it a little bit too seriously.
There are some AP shells out there. Including slugs that market themselves as armor penetrating. I've never looked too deeply in to these. I know of their existence, but not how effective they actually are.
There's also probably some close quarters scenarios where a slug might punch right through body armor, even though, generally speaking, slugs lose energy extremely quickly, and at mid to long range, they're not going to penetrate. Ultimately, it is an 18mm bullet without a lot of powder behind it, so the drop off makes sense, but it's still a lot of mass to deal with when it's leaving the barrel. Even if your armor holds up, taking that hit is probably not going to be fun.
-Starke
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