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zoeykallus · 9 months ago

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TBB x Gender-neutral Reader (Extended) HCs – Lost Something? Part 2/3/4/5

(Echo/Wrecker/Tech/Crosshair)

Warnings: Partly Slightly Suggestive/Mostly Fluff/Tiny Bit Angsty

This is the continuation of this request:

Reader stole the batcher's weapon. Let's see how they get it back.

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

Echo

Echo runs through the Marauders like a startled chicken, followed by the confused looks of his team. "Has anyone seen my blaster?" Hunter, who is putting on his gloves, looks over at him. "You lost your blaster?" Echo sighs annoyed and says, "No I haven't" Wrecker says with a raised eyebrow, "But you can't find it" "Yeah" Tech shrugs his shoulders without looking up from his holopad and says, "Sounds to me like you lost it" Echo waves it off in annoyance and insists, "No I haven't. I never lose parts of my equipment" It annoys him that he doesn't know where his blaster is, he was sure he'd left it with the rest of his gear when he went to bed that night and he says so. Crosshair leans out of his bunk, rolling a toothpick from one corner of his mouth to the other before saying. "You didn't go to bed alone last night I take it"

Echo's ears turn red. He pauses briefly in his movement, then turns to the Sniper. "What makes you think that?" Crosshair smirks, takes the toothpick out of his mouth and says, "You were alone on the Marauder for most of the night, I assume you took advantage of that fact." Wrecker asked excitedly, "Ooooh, Echo has a lover? Instead of answering, Echo rushes out of the room, locks himself in the cockpit and immediately starts a holo-call. His heart is pounding in his throat as your face appears on the holo, not just because he's upset and excited, the sight of you alone is enough to raise his pulse. "Took you long enough," you say with a cheeky smile. "You've got my blaster" It's not a question, it's a statement. Inwardly, he's annoyed that Crosshair thought of it before him. You lift the blaster into the holo for him to see. Echo lets out a deep sigh, relieved, a little annoyed. "I need it back," he says sternly.

You smile unperturbed and say, "I thought so. Then come and get it" "But-" You hang up before he can finish the sentence. A little stunned, Echo stares at the spot where the holo with your face used to be. When Echo comes out of the cockpit, he literally stomps through the main room towards the ramp. Hunter asks him cautiously, "Where are you going?" "Spanking someone's ass," Echo growls. "Kinky." Echo's eyes spark as he snaps, "Shut Up, Crosshair" The Sniper leans back in his bunk, unimpressed, chuckling softly.

You've been out all day, had some things to do. Echo didn't try to call again. But as you land your shuttle at the usual landing spot and open your ramp, you hear his footsteps on the ramp and in the ship before you even leave the cockpit.

He stops in the doorway to the cockpit, his gaze so serious and stony that at first you can't help but gulp. After a few seconds, you find your voice again. "Have you been waiting on the landing pad all day?" "Yes" The answer is very curt, a little abrupt. He stretches out his remaining hand, challenging you with a steely gaze. You feel yourself shrinking under his gaze as you pull out the blaster and place it in his hand. Echo holsters the weapon directly, still staring at you. "I should spank your behind" You say cheekily, "Okay. Do you want me to take my clothes off first?" Echo raises a brow in confusion, but he doesn't stop you from unbuttoning your flight suit. "Somehow I imagined it would be different," he says, a little beside himself. "Disappointed? Should I stop?" Echo licks his lips and shakes his head.

"Uh, no it's okay, we'll see where this takes us" You laugh softly, kiss his heated cheek and say, "Well, I was hoping to my bunk"

Wrecker

It's a beautiful evening. The weather is warm, but not too hot. The dinner was delicious, and the atmosphere great. A perfect moment to pass the time with Wrecker. The nice thing about Wrecker is that he's up for any kind of nonsense and is anything but a party pooper. You've been fooling around for a while now. You've managed to take his blaster out of its holster and to get it back, Wrecker has been chasing you around the massive dining table on one of the terraces on Pabuu for a few minutes now. The others have long since left the scene, some laughing or grinning, others (Crosshair) rolling their eyes. You giggle happily and change direction every time he tries to trick you. A little out of breath, you tell him, "I won't make it that easy for you!" Wrecker lets out a cheerful laugh that almost sounds like thunder. "I'll get you one way or another, just wait and see" As he changes direction again, you do the same, squealing happily.

"We'll see about that," you answer cheekily. You have to hand it to Wrecker, as impatient as he sometimes is, when it comes to fun and games, he usually has the patience of an angel. You've been running around for so long, your lungs are starting to burn, your faces are flushed with exertion, but you both grin happily when your eyes meet. But then something happens that you don't expect. With a cheerful exclamation, Wrecker grabs the massive table and throws it behind him, removing the barrier between the two of you. He suddenly stands very close to you and grins down at you. You look up at him, still holding his blaster. "Told you I'd get you," he says, amused. "What the hell.... what happened to my table?" You both look to the side, startled, to where an exasperated Phee crosses her slender arms in front of her chest. "Uh," Wrecker begins, "We were just fooling around a bit."

Phee rolls her eyes and asks, "And you had to destroy my table to do that? Who's going to replace it for me?" A sigh is heard from the other direction, followed shortly by Hunter's unmistakable voice. "Wrecker. Care to explain that to me?" The giant shrugs his shoulders and says with a sweeping gesture, "We were fooling around and then things went off the rails" "So nothing new," Hunter sighs, "Do me a favor and go fool around somewhere you can't destroy anything" You look at Wrecker and ask, "Beach?" Wrecker grins broadly at you. "Beach!" he confirms, nodding and running after you. Phee and Hunter look after you both. The squad leader sighs again, whereupon Phee says amusedly, "Those two will be your downfall one day" Hunter laughs softly, "I know"

Tech

Tech is obsessively rummaging through his things in his bunk. "That's not possible..." Crosshair has been watching his brother in silence for a while now, but finally asks, "Did you lose something?" Tech grinds his teeth before answering, "My blasters are gone" Crosshair frowns. "Both of them?" "Both of them," Tech confirms, vigorously adjusting his goggles. "You're a slob, I wouldn't find anything in this mess either," the Sniper grumbles dryly. Tech takes a deep breath, straightens up and looks at his brother seriously. "I'm not a slob," he replies critically "Yes you are, you're a total slob, you hardly ever put anything away. Your bunk looks like a garbage dump" Tech touches his forehead as if he has a headache, then raises his finger in the air and says, "I don't need order to find my way around. I don't have to obsessively tidy everything like you do, no matter how messy my stuff and my bunk are, I always know exactly where my stuff is" Crosshair smirks and teases, "Then you certainly know where your blasters are"

Tech's ears turn red, he turns away and rummages around in his bunk for a while, sighing again and again in frustration. "Didn't you have a visitor yesterday?" Crosshair asks meaningfully. Tech turns back to him. "Yes, I did have a visitor. And?" Crosshair shrugs his shoulders suggestively. "If the blasters are suddenly gone, maybe someone took them." Tech frowns. "No, that can't be. They wouldn't do that. Why would they do that?" Crosshair shrugs again, leans back in his bunk and says, "How should I know? It's not my love interest." With a bright red head, Tech leaves the Marauder to make his way to you.

You are looking out of your window when you see him walking across the courtyard. He seems to be deep in thought and keeps shaking his head. You smile, apparently he has noticed that his blasters are missing. Shortly afterwards, you hear your doorbell ring. Tech keeps his finger on the bell for longer than necessary, a very energetic ring. You press the door opener without using the intercom. When he arrives at your apartment, he has already raised his finger. "How many times do I have to tell you not to just press the door opener? You have to make sure who's at the door, it's dangerous!" You say calmly, "I saw you at the window. But it's sweet that you're worried about me" Tech sighs softly, straightens his shoulders and straightens up a little. "I'd like my blasters back" "That's what I thought. But I want something in return" Tech frowns and asks, "So you stole my blasters to extort something from me?"

Now you frown, "Well, when you put it like that, it sounds so crude and unromantic" His eyebrows move upwards in surprise. He asks confused, "Stealing my blasters was a romantic gesture?" You laugh softly and say as warmth rises in your cheeks, "I was going to ask for some of those sweet kisses you gave me yesterday in exchange" The corners of Tech's mouth twitch, his ears turn red, and he nervously shuffles his foot on the floor. "I only gave you one kiss yesterday. That was our first kiss," he corrects. When he thinks about it, his pulse starts to race again, his heart beats wildly and his body is suddenly filled with this incredible lightness again. "That's right. But now I want more," you say, biting your lower lip. Tech, steps closer and says, "A kiss for every blaster?" "Two per blaster," you say hastily, your ears already glowing hot and your puls racing through you. Tech smirks. "Okay, I think we can do that"

Crosshair

"No" "But-" "No," the Sniper repeats seriously, "This is not a weapon for beginners. You'll learn with the training rifle first and when I think you're ready, I might let you shoot with the Firepuncher" You sigh and roll your eyes. He has just turned his back to you and is putting the training gun away, but still he says, "Stop rolling your eyes. You're learning from me because I'm the professional, so trust my judgment too" "You're stupid," you say, pouting. Crosshair chuckles softly, turns to you and asks, "Then why do you keep coming here to train with me?" You point at his gun and say, "Because I want to shoot that thing someday" His eyebrows move upwards, and he asks, "So you only come here for the Firepuncher?" You shrug your shoulders and say cheekily, "Mostly" "You're a bad liar," Crosshair says, amused. You laugh and ask, "Why? What do you think I came here for?" Crosshair spreads his arms and strikes a pose. "To use my brother's words - isn't it obvious?..."

"You think I'm here for you?" you ask with a grin, "Well, maybe a little, but I think the Firepuncher is hotter" Crosshair laughs and continues packing. "Can't say I blame you" You watch him pack up the gear, then you hear his brother call out to him from the shuttle. "Excuse me a moment," Crosshair says, and disappears up the ramp inside. Your eyes fall on the case with the Firepuncher. You can't help yourself, you can't resist. You open the case, grab the gun and close the case again. You know he'll be angry, but the temptation is just too powerful.

When Crosshair comes out again and sees that you've already left, he sighs softly. He likes your visits, likes talking to you. Whenever you part ways, he feels a certain longing to have you with him for longer. He comforts himself with the thought that you will come back, if only because of the Firpuncher. He smiles and reaches for his weapon case, but his smile freezes. The case is clearly too light. He hastily puts the case back down and opens it. Empty. "You lousy little..." With a growl, the Sniper sets off. He already suspects where you might be.

The rifle is heavier than you expected, just aiming it properly is a challenge. "Maybe I should lie down," you mutter quietly to yourself. "And pull your pants down while you're at it, so I can spank your ass!" Crosshair's smoky voice startles you so much that you hastily turn around with an already embarrassingly high-pitched yelp and drop the gun on the grass. You stumble backwards as he comes towards you and almost fall, but the Sniper grabs the collar of your jacket just in time to hold you steady. "Not only are you stealing my gun, now you're dropping it!" "Not on purpose!" you say hurriedly and adjust your jacket as he lets go of you with a snort. His serious eyes bore into yours, and you don't even dare to blink for a long moment. Cautiously, you ask him, "How upset are you?" Crosshair crosses his arms in front of his chest and sighs heavily. "Very, to say the least." You smile wryly and say, "But you stopped me from falling down, so you don't hate me too much" He rolls his eyes, unknots his arms and picks up the Firepuncher from the grass. "Lie down," he grumbles. "What?" you ask, perplexed.

Impatiently, he snaps his fingers repeatedly and grumbles, "Do you want to learn something or not?" You hastily lie down on your stomach in the grass, Crosshair lies down next to you, presses the rifle into your hands and shows you how to use it properly. "How did you actually find me?" you want to know. Crosshair snorts softly and says almost gently, "This is where we practiced for the first time." "You remember that?" He rolls his eyes and says, "I never forget anything" You take a few practice shots and it goes well. Satisfied, you turn your head in his direction and smile. His expression doesn't say much, but he says, "Not bad for an amateur" As you look at him a little longer, studying the lines on his face, unable to help but admire his face, Crosshair suddenly snaps, "Stop staring at me like a love-struck dove, look at your target" As you hurriedly look forward again, your ears getting hot, a smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. He likes you too, very much so, but he won't tell you anytime soon.

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

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@pb-jellybeans

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@sleepycreativewriter

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@clonelovr

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askinkiskarma · 2 years ago

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𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕚𝕟 𝕄𝕖 | ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕀𝕀: 𝕀 𝔸𝕞 𝕃𝕠𝕤𝕥, 𝔹𝕦𝕥 ℕ𝕠𝕥 𝕀𝕟 𝕐𝕠𝕦

Pairing: Neteyam x (f)Omaticaya!Reader

synopsis: in order to fulfil your revenge plans on Neteyam, you have to give up a lot of your life, including a future with a man who loves you dearly.

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, aged-up! Neteyam/Reader, enemies-to-lovers, angst (@lanasblood trying to be better about this), smut (fingering, orgasm denial), strong language, neteyam and reader being horrible to each other lol

wc: 6.5k words

a/n: things are starting to get spicy besties 😌 i have to admit, although i am a lot more comfortable with friends-to-lovers, or more angsty tropes, i adore writing the sexual tension that comes with e2l and i hope i did it justice and you enjoy this chapter. i can't wait to hear your thoughts, bbs and thank you again for all the love and support on this series xx (thank you very much also to @cinetrix for her amazing Neteyam art ily bestie x)

this is only half proof-read, so if you see any mistakes no you don't

na'vi compendium: yawne - beloved, Tsakarem - Tsa'hik in training, tìlor - beauty, txepvi - spark

: ̗̀➛ previous chapter (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series playlist (x)

In a perfect world, I'd kill to love you the loudest But all I do is live to hurt you soundless Say you see I'm lying, babe, and let this go I can never promise you tomorrow

The departing footsteps echoed through the forest as O'ì'en left you all alone, with a broken heart and the man that broke it, and the feeling left you empty, the hurt of what transpired, of what he did, what you did, how with each passing blow to each other’s lives, this was no longer just a petty rivalry but felt like so much more, like too much more. You threatened him, you spit all sorts of petty warnings about hell and burning - and in the heat of the moment, that sounded cool, and doable. Not anymore, as you stood motionless in the clearing and realised that Neteyam still had so much power over you, that his grasp on your life and on your heart was so tight, tighter than anyone else’s, tight enough to bruise and crush it with a tug of his fisted fingers. You removed yourself from his grasp like his touch burned you, which it felt like it did, and put distance in between your bodies, so that you could see him, so that you could clear your mind, so that his presence wouldn’t have the effect on you it always did, that you were sure was just your body recoiling in hatred, that always manifested itself in goosebumps and shivers down your spine.

“You’re such a fucking asshole.” The tears stung as you willed them back into your tear ducts. It’s been 7 years since Neteyam has seen you cry, and you’ll be damned if that would ever change, and especially right now, as you watched the smirk grow with every departing step, with every erratic blink of your eyes, as you tried to stop them from falling down your face, as he knew he got to you, that he made you pay for the words you uttered to him before.

“Oh, yawne. One day you’ll learn to not punch above your weight, and I guess since no one else is willing to, it falls onto me to teach you.” He walks slow, purposeful steps as he nears you once more, and his eyes boring into you, filled with intensity and a feeling you couldn’t quite place, that didn’t quite match the arrogance staining his lips like poison, stilled you in your spot, until he was so close, you could feel his warm breath and musky scent, until your heart boomed painfully in your chest, echoing loudly in your ears, marginally drowning out his next words.

“Did you really think you could threaten me and everything I’ve worked for, my relationship and the rest of my life, without any repercussions, huh? Did you really think I would go down without a fight?”

His hand raised and reached to push some unruly strands of hair out of your face, and you couldn’t look away from the soft glimmer in his eyes, that was so at odds with the rest of his face, you wondered if he even knew it was there. You wondered if he knew what it signified, because you didn’t. And despite your best efforts otherwise, you couldn’t deny the curiosity that deluged you, to try and find out.

The hint in his molten golden orbs dissipated as quickly as it appeared, and so did any middling emotion that tried you, as you once more found yourself reaching for your knife and unsheathing it, holding it in between both your hands, aiming for a shoulder… or a neck, and with a feral growl, you pushed your entire forced into the blow, and yelped in pain as one of his hands wrapped around both your wrists and twisted until the knife dropped pitifully on the ground with a loud clink. Tears threatened you once more at how futile the effort had been, how easy for him to overpower you like you were nothing more than a child, or a doll. He pinned your hands above your head and pushed you until your back collided with the bark of a tree and you felt the wind getting knocked out of your lungs at the contact.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk… why must you always resort to violence… yawne?” Your eyes widened as the hand that wasn’t holding you ghosted over your cheeks, tracing the air right above your lips with his thumb, and you were struggling, yet again, with the feelings that were plaguing you, that made burning appear everywhere his fingers were, burning the travelled down your body until they reached your core, that throbbed and clenched, that desperately asked you for something you would never, ever give it. After exploring your face, and tracing your jaw, his fingers finally settled on your chin, pushing it gently until your face angled upwards to meet his and no further breath could inch its way down your airways at the sight of him, at the way he looked at you, at the way it made you feel.

“You told me that you won’t mind burning in Hell as long as I burn with you. Well…” he broke eye contact to look around him at the forest surrounding you both. “Do you hear that, yawne? Fire is catching. And looks like we’re going to get to burn together after all.”

“Let me go. I told you what would happen if you ever touched me again.” His smirk never faltered, but only deepened as his eyes trailed over your body, settling on your lower abdomen.

“Mmm, yawne. I’m not sure you mean that.” It was your turn to reciprocate his guise, no ounce of shame or hesitation on your face.

“Let me go and you’ll find out whether I mean it or not.” his eyes widened, if only for a split second, and you felt like you imagined his grip on you loosening, or the fleeting sight of goosebumps peppered on his chest and neck, where your warm breath touched him.

“Are you really going to miss your chance to find lover boy and apologise like the good girl you like people to think you are?”

Your eyes lost momentary focus as he spoke. His words, although as cruel as usual, made guilt peak its ugly head over the thin-veiled curtain it was hiding behind, and you knew he was right. This was irrelevant. This whole fandangle of aggression and snarky remarks you always engaged in was not what should be occupying your brain, it wasn’t what mattered. O'ì'en mattered. Fixing Neteyam’s damage… and your own - that’s the only thing that mattered right now.

“Funny how quickly you seem to have forgotten about the one you supposedly love so much when I have your hands pinned above your head, isn’t it… yawne.”

His hands trailed over your arm as if on accident as he let you go and you felt embarrassed. Embarrassed at his words, at his effect on you, at how hard you were fighting your own body and mind as they were struggling to regain composure from his touch, and his voice, and his presence.

Hate. That’s all it was. It consumed you, and you wish it didn’t, but at the end of the day, it was still just harmless, bona fide, unadulterated hate. You ignored the way your cheeks caught fire and burned beneath your skin as you ran towards the village, towards where you assumed O’i’en was headed, without sparing your biggest, your only enemy a second glance.

'Cause I have yet to learn how not to be his This city will surely burn if we keep this as it is

You spent hours searching for him, but despite trying every place you knew he liked to frequent, all efforts proved futile. You knew he wouldn’t want to be found, but still, you held a glimmer of hope in your heart that at least subconsciously, he’d want you to find him, to allow him to explain what was mostly inexplainable and inexcusable - you couldn’t blame him for proving you wrong.

Eventually, as eclipse was nearing with each passing moment, defeated and regretful, you went to the nearby river, that was almost deserted due to the approaching evening, that you hoped would bring you some answers, or some solace… some strength. What were you supposed to do? Were you supposed to listen to Eywa, and your own heart telling you to go for this mateship that you knew was wrong, but felt drawn towards, for your own twisted, sadistic reasons? Or should you listen to your mind who told you to fight for what you knew would be a comfortable, healthy future, one that didn’t particularly enthral you, but hoped you could aspire to and embrace in time, with the insight that came with getting older? As always, the war between your mind and heart led to a painful impasse where both of them were bloodied and injured, but no discernible winners were left to claim victory on the choice, or on all the questions that plagued you.

You recognised Jake’s steps and his scent as he approached you, and you sighed. You were not in the mood for a lecture. Sure enough, he sat next to you, looking at the waterfall falling violently into the otherwise peaceful river, that rippled and bruised at the contact. It was funny to you now, sitting here, how that was a perfect metaphor for your relationship with Neteyam, how in his presence, you were just a river, and he was a force of nature, there to disturb and perturb, there to change you, so aggressive and formidable, and so strangely necessary. You were sad at how much his presence in your life mattered, how you knew that despite all the hurt and the pain, you owed him so much of who you were, so much of where you were. Because he pushed you every day, to be better, to strive for more, to want to be more like him in some ways, less like him in others - a better daughter, a better friend, a better sibling, a better soldier, a better warrior, a better clan member.

“Hey, kid. What are you doing here, eclipse will be upon us soon. You know the rules.”

“I know the rules, Jake. And with all due respect, right now, I really couldn’t care less about them.”

You turned to him and noted his expression melting from one of annoyance, raised eyebrow and an open mouth, ready to chastise you for your insubordination and recalcitrance, into a soft and pitying one, as he took in your tear-stained face and trembling lips. You never cried, not in front of anyone who mattered, so the fact that here you stood, so obviously distressed, concerned Jake more than he could say out loud.

“What’s wrong, baby girl? What happened?”

“I… I need to find O'ì'en… I’ve been looking for hours, but I can’t find him. Have you seen him anywhere?” Your sniffles and a hoarse, broken voice were more than enough to bring a grimace to the Olo’eyktan’s face.

“Oh, honey…” his arms circled your much smaller body and he squeezed, the much needed hug warm and very welcome. Your hand tightened around his forearm, and you started sobbing silently as he held you. You’ve always been immensely grateful for the Sullys and their patriarch, but especially so in moments like this, when his paternal instincts kicked in, a role he was much better at than he ever gave himself credit for.

“I ruined it… I ruined everything. I should have told him, I should have been honest with him. I should have come to you and asked you to free me of this responsibility that I never wanted to shoulder in the first place.”

“You can still ask, kid. We would never force you into something you genuinely aren’t comfortable with, and you should know that. In fact, you do know that. But you didn’t come. Why?”

You had no answer to that, because truthfully, you didn’t know. Getting revenge on Neteyam wasn’t a good enough answer, and more and more, you realised that - and you knew Jake would challenge you on it as soon as the words came out of your mouth. Getting revenge isn’t a good enough reason to sacrifice your own happiness, and liberty, your future as a warrior and your future with the man you wanted to want so badly. It wasn’t a good enough reason because it wasn’t the reason - not the only reason, not the full reason, but that was something you couldn't think about, you couldn't even fathom, not yet, so you didn't.

At your lack of response, Jake sighed and looked contemplatively at the river being perturbed by the waterfall crashing on it, at the way the water rippled and undulated, at the way the bioluminescent glow of the underwater plankton, that was visible now that eclipse settled over the land, warped under its force.

“Did I ever tell you I had this girlfriend back on Earth? This was when I was young, about your age.” You shook your head softly, not looking at him, still focused and mesmerised by the same view he was studying.

“She was amazing. So kind, and sweet, and beautiful… and good. Too good for me. And I loved her. She was the first girl I looked at and thought that maybe, just maybe, she would be the one. I used to pick her up after her classes were over and we would just drive in my car, just down the coast, in Anaheim at sundown, and I remember feeling so happy, thinking that I would feel this way the rest of my life.”

You thought about that, and about your boyfriend, who very much seemed like what Jake was describing, who brought you comfort and safety. You thought about walking with him in this place Jake called Anaheim, in a heavenly place away from hurt and pain, away from mistakes and fears, just two people who loved each other, who wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. You felt grief envelop you when the face that appeared in your visions wasn’t the one you wanted to see, the one you hoped you’d see, the one you needed to see. You hated your brain and your heart for not allowing you to commit to him the way you knew you should, in the way that would ensure you a future of happiness and peace, a love worth harbouring, a pure and kind love, just like the one Jake described.

“What happened? Between… you and her, I mean?” Jake shrugged, a small, content smile on his face.

“It just didn’t work out. I joined the military, she continued her studies. We would have never worked. I wasn’t good enough for her, and she deserved someone who could love her the way she was meant be loved. Anaheim is still a beautiful memory to me, and I’ll always cherish it, but it made way for something much, much better. For both of us.

I think sometimes we hold on to things we think we need, we want to want, but these things pertain to a version of ourselves that isn’t fully authentic. I think it’s easy to pretend when we’re with certain people that life is one way, that we could fit in it, in this world we’ve created in our heads, in the world that they inspire, but the sooner we accept the realities of our circumstances, of who we are and where we truly belong, the more time we have to enjoy life for how it’s meant to be lived: fully, wildly, being wholly ourselves.”

He stood up and headed back towards the village, not before giving you an affectionate pat on the head and a squeeze of your shoulders. His last words echoed in your ears long after he departed, leaving you with so much to think about, and so much pain at knowing he was right, and that soon, you’d have to break a heart and learn to mend your own.

“You can still ask, kid. I just think, deep down, Anaheim isn’t for you… just like it wasn’t for me.”

But I'd give anything to stop time And drive around Anaheim at sun down And teach my mind to put you first

It took the whole night, but you eventually found him, after a painful conversation with his mother, at a different river he used to love coming to as a little kid with his father, one much further away from the village. He was sitting on the river bank, lost in thought, his feet dangling mindlessly in the water that rushed downstream, agitated and tumultuous, much like your mind. You sighed deeply, trying your hardest to build up the courage for the most difficult conversation you’ve ever had, one in which you knew the end result was a broken heart, one that you caused, that you never meant to, that you would never want. You knew what it was like to be broken-hearted, sad and unmoored from the reality you’ve built up in your mind, from your hopes and dreams, from the future you were promised and now will never have again. But after the conversation with Jake, you knew it was the right thing to do. You loved O'ì'en, you truly did, just not enough to ever give him everything he needed and deserved, not for the rest of your life. You had darkness in you he would never be skilled enough to wander through, to bring light into, and you would never want him to try, not when it would dim his own light, that deserved to be nourished and heightened by someone, who much like him, was good and pure, and better than you’d ever be.

“O'ì'en…”

He wasn’t startled by your presence. His gaze didn’t shift from where it was intently fixed, and you knew you shouldn’t expect that it did. You wouldn’t want to look at yourself, either.

“You know, I watched for so long the interactions between you and Neteyam, and they always made me sad and uncomfortable. The hatred that I could not understand, that seemed to occupy so much of your time and space in both your minds, that consumed you both. I watched it, and I wanted to say something, but I never thought it was my place. It hurt me, seeing you suffer at his hands, and hurt me that you always reciprocated, that you never took the high road, that you always felt the need to one-up him, to give as good as you got. It was so toxic and unhealthy, and I hoped in time, you’d move away from it. I hoped I could help you. But now, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to, not anymore. And I don’t know if I want to.”

Tears rolled down your face with every word uttered, with every sentence that cut deeper and deeper in you, until you were bleeding and bruised, until it all hurt, being here, seeing him, hearing him, the past and the future, the present and your actions, and Neteyam’s actions, and everything that lead to this moment. It was so much easier to get your heart broken, you realise faintly, than to break a heart. Heartbroken, you could pity yourself, victimise yourself, tell yourself and the world that it’s not you, but the other person, the one who instigated it. You can sleep at night knowing you were wronged, that if it wasn’t for the pain that someone else caused you, things would be different, easier. There was nothing easy about watching a good person suffer and knowing you caused it, and you wondered how you were ever going to fall asleep again, how were you going to be able to live with yourself.

“I didn’t choose this, O'ì'en… any of this. I need you to know this. Mo’at asked us to come to her as a matter of urgency the other day, she told us that Eywa gave her a sign, showed her a vision, and that by her will, Neteyam and I will have to become a mated-pair.” You felt bad about leaving out certain… extenuating circumstances, but you realise that sometimes, certain things are better left unsaid and once some words are uttered, some actions taken, they can’t be recalled, they can’t be reversed, they won’t dematerialise - their echoes will forever ring through time, leaving damage and hurt in their wake, and you didn’t want that - not for him.

“Have you told her you don’t want to? Have you gone to the Tsa’hik, or the Olo’eyktan, or the Tsakarem and talked to them, told them you are in love with someone else, that you made up your mind? Did you fight for us at any point? For me?”

Your eyes widened at his words, that had an edge to them you’ve never observed in him before, that you didn’t even realise he was truly capable of. The words stung needles on your skin and in your eyes, that had prickling tears still falling uninterrupted, like summer rain, soaking your heart and soul that hurt because you knew that you couldn’t give him an answer that would satisfy him… you couldn’t give him an answer at all.

“They look at you like you’re their daughter. They would listen to you if you asked. But you didn’t, did you?”

“I once overheard Lo’ak talk about you and Neteyam to his human friend. He was concerned about you. About both of you. But aside from that, he talked about you two like you were an inevitability. About passion that ran so deep there was no way only hatred fuelled it. That there must be something underneath it all. I heard this and it made me angry at the time… I thought that he was unreasonable and out of line. Naively, I took your affection at face value and never looked beyond. Until now, that is. When I realised that in our time together, all the time we shared, all the moments that were sweet and innocent and everything I’ve ever wanted, you’ve never once shared even a fraction of that passion for me.”

“O'ì'en, no…”

“I think, deep down, you don’t want to get out of this because it’s finally a way to bridge the gap that has existed between you and Neteyam for so long, a gap you secretly wished had never existed. I think you’ve been in love with him since you were children, and this was the perfect opportunity to change a path you thought was set in stone before. I think he’s in love with you, too. But both of you are too mean, too stubborn with each other to see past your differences. To talk.”

“You’re wrong.” The temper was rising in your chest as his head continued shaking, denying your statement, as his words were processing in your mind, the unbelievable, insane, unreasonable words that you couldn’t believe were being uttered right before you, not by him. You wanted to scream at him, to shout and tell him that it’s all wrong, all of this, everything is all wrong. That the passion he’s talking about is just intense dislike that was so grand, so overpowering, it couldn’t be contained inside your body, nor inside his. That you were not in love with Neteyam - you hated Neteyam. With every fibre of your being, you loathed the man that hurt you so deeply, so intimately, for so long, that forsook the past you shared and the memories you made and what you meant to him, or what he meant to you.

You wanted to tell him that he’s delusional in ever thinking that man could ever be in love with you, when all he did was find new ways to torture you, to belittle you, to make you feel lesser than him, lesser than anyone he knew. How could that ever be love? How could that ever work? This was love. What you had with O'ì'en. Pure and good and kind and easy. Love wasn’t supposed to hurt, right? Love was supposed to feel natural, like coming home after a long, exhausting day, it wasn’t supposed to be what made the day long and exhausting in the first place. He was so wrong.

But you didn’t find it in you to argue with him. Not with him. Someone else will have to bear the consequences of your repressed anger, but not O'ì'en, because he deserves better than what he got, and what you gave, and in truth.. none of this mattered anyway. Arguing would make no difference in this doomed relationship, so you calmed yourself for the time being and spoke in as even of a tone you could manage.

“O'ì'en… I think you’re wrong. But, it doesn’t matter. You’re right that I didn’t talk to Mo’at, and that I should have. Regardless of the circumstances that led to this, I am so sorry. I will forever be sorry for the way you found out, for the way this came to be. I’m so sorry you had to be collateral damage in a war that is only mine to bear. I had a whole plan about how to tell you, I had so many things I wanted to say to you. That I’m grateful to you, and that I love you. That I’m sorry it wasn’t the way that you deserve to be loved, but I do love you. That I will never forget you, and your affection that shone so brightly over me, that was a safe haven from the bad storms I’ve had to weather for so long. That I’ll be sorry every day that I wasn’t good enough for you, but am relieved by the notion that one day, you’ll find someone so much better than me, someone who will be able to give you everything you deserve and then some, and I’m relieved in knowing you will be thankful to have been rid of me.”

You decided this would have to be enough for now. One day, maybe you’ll be able to face him again. One day, maybe he’ll even be able to spare you a glance, or a smile. But not today.

“I hope you forgive me one day.”

“Me, too.”

But I'd give anything to stop time, commit to you and not crimes Against your truth and lose sight of every divide threatening to undo this story But baby, I'm so sorry, I don't think that I'll ever memorise this route

It was a long way back to the village, and with every step taken and every moment passed, the anger that you tried to stifle for his sake came back ten fold - the tiring days of fighting, of crying, of suffering, of uncertainty and rampant emotions all building up within you, all coming to a calamitous zenith that threatened to spill all around you, that begged and urged for revenge, for payback on the man that caused it all, the man that was at the centre of all your life’s woes.

He ruined your relationship? Well… let’s see how he’ll like a taste of his own medicine. You knew exactly where you’ll find him, because you knew he’d be in the place he knew he could pester you the most, in a place that’s supposed to be yours, that he tainted over and over, that you will make sure to conquer back from him, the way you eventually would all of the pieces of yourselves he’s taken from you through time.

Your tent was quiet and untouched, unlike the little nook behind it, that was completely segregated from the rest of the clan, an oasis of secrecy and privacy in an otherwise bustling environment. A place that should be yours alone, but now hid two Na’vi, one of them mewling softly at the actions of the other. Neteyam was focused on his mate’s neck, their make-out session so intense, they didn’t even notice you until it was too late, until you stood behind them, until your presence was announced by a deep sigh and a disappointed click of your tongue.

“Oh, how disappointing.”

The girl let out a distressed yelp at your voice and pushed Neteyam off of her, eliciting a deep growl from the man that was less than impressed by the interruption.

“Am I interrupting?”

You saw Neteyam’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of you, at the way he knew what was coming. You laughed at his expression. What did he think was going to happen after what he’s done? What did he think you were going to do finding them here? The evil smirk that possessed you reminded you of his, and you wondered if this is how panicked you looked, too, when you saw him approaching you and O'ì'en.

“You know, if you’re going to continue going against the Olo’eyktan and the Tsa’hik’s wishes and cheat on your mate, I wouldn’t do it… you know, right outside of her tent.”

“WHAT?!” The high-pitched screech nearly deafened you, but you didn’t let it show. Instead you just watched as Neteyam scrambled to get himself out of the eye of the storm threatening to tear him apart.

“Tìlor, I -“

“Ah, your boyfriend didn’t tell you?” Your smile was sickeningly sweet as you approached the couple, stopping right next to Neteyam, placing a hand on his arm, tracing the protruding veins that made saliva pool in your mouth, and you bit back a laugh at the girl’s rabid look, that looked a lot like she was going to pounce on you at any given moment - you hoped she did. Nothing would make you happier than to have an excuse to rearrange her braids. This girl that always looked down on you, that looked at you like you were an outsider or a freak, that never even tried to mask her jealousy, her disdain, her fear at the fact the Sullys preferred you, and always will.

“I will be your Tsa’hik soon. Isn’t that right… yawne?”

“So unless you want me to go and tell the clan leaders… and your mother… and your father, and everyone who matters that you’ve been fucking someone else’s mate and watch as little by little, your entire world falls apart around you, I suggest you realise this man right here, he’s not worth it. Not worth all the drama, not worth all the fuss. Just go, and find yourself a single mate, and give thanks to Eywa she’s rid you of him, cause damn, I know I wish I could be.”

The hatred in her eyes was slowly replaced with fear and embarrassment, and for a second, just a second - you felt bad for her. Because no matter how badly she’s treated you, how she’s adopted Neteyam’s behaviour as her own with no reason or rhyme, much like O'ì'en, she was also just another collateral victim in a war that kept claiming lives and hearts, and you wondered where, if at all, the line would be drawn, when, if ever, would enough be enough?

You watched as she scrambled to fasten her top around her neck properly and without another word, she was gone, leaving just you and Neteyam alone, with enough tension in the air around you to suffocate you, to feel like smoke from a fire so grand, you didn't know if weren’t skilled enough to put out.

'Cause I have yet to know how to be mine You can try to unearth this soul I swear you'll hate what you find

“Why?”

“You’re making out with someone behind my tent, knowing that would piss me off, after what you did yesterday, and you have the nerve to ask me why?” you threw your head back and laughed at the outrageousness of the question. Neteyam wasn’t stupid - far from it. He was also not naive, or oblivious, or harebrained. The question had no business coming out of his mouth, but yet it did. You didn't have time to ponder the reasons why.

“You see, Neteyam, I think you came here because you knew I’d come. Because you secretly wanted me to. Because you know deep down that this girl has nothing to offer you, and you just needed an easy way out to rid yourself of her, and you needed me to do your dirty work for you again. Well, you’re welcome, Neteyam. What the fuck would you ever do without me, huh?”

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite. All the theatricals of being heartbroken over what I did to O'ì'en and then you do the exact same thing to someone else, someone innocent.”

“Innocent, ha! You think I give a shit about your little girlfriend’s feelings, when you treated O'ì'en the way you did? He didn’t deserve this, Neteyam. Any of this. He’s good man, he respects you, and looks up to you. He -“

“He should have known better than to associate himself with you.” His bared fangs didn’t do as much to scare you, not nearly as much as his proximity to you did, at the way his eyes stared daggers at your face, that even in the heat of the moment, at the peak of anger and hatred, couldn’t help settle on your parted, wet lips. “He should have known better and realise that all you bring in people’s life is disappointment and pain. He also should have known better and realise you didn’t love him. That you never will. That you might try to act like it and convince yourself, but someone like him would never, ever satisfy you.”

“And who the fuck would satisfy me, Neteyam? You? That’s rich. I bet your poor little girlfriend’s happy she’s rid of you. Bet you haven’t made her cum once. Too busy thinking of training and ruining my life, too busy thinking about how great you think you are to make room for anyone else in there.” You poked him in the chest with your index finger, right over his heart. Your touch lingered on his body, somehow unable to bring yourself to stop, half in awe at the way his heart was racing, at the way yours beat almost in sync with his, at the way you tried to convince yourself it’s because of the anger you were feeling, and no other reason.

“Yeah? Is that what you think?”

And there he was again, once more grabbing you by your throat, and you wanted to object, and fight him, but you didn’t - you couldn’t -, not as you felt throbbing deep within you at the action, not as you had to push your thighs together to accommodate for the increasingly uncomfortable sensation, not as your loincloth was becoming more and more damp by the second. And you remember your words, and remember that you told him that if he ever touched you again, you’ll make him pay for it, but right now, in this moment, you couldn’t find it in you to speak a word, as the intensity of his gaze knocked the air out of your lungs and his fingers squeezed just enough so no more could get back in you. Your back scratched painfully against a tree as he pushed you into it, and you couldn’t help a small moan as his other hand pushed your loincloth to the side, brushing over your folds that were now sopping and swollen. He let out a soft chuckle as he felt you.

“If that’s what you really thought, you wouldn’t be dripping on my fingers right now, tsxepvi.”

Slowly, deliberately, he started exploring your heat, thumb ghosting over your clit as he watched you squirm under his touch, struggling between what you knew you should do, between your conscious mind telling you you were going to pay for this in tears and heartache, and your subconscious mind screaming to let go, to embrace the overbearing desire to give in to him, as you did in the dreams you convinced yourself in time were nightmares, but knew more and more each day that it was just another lie you told yourself to keep going.

One side of you won by a landslide, as he gently pushed two fingers in you, as he started increasing the pressure with which he was massaging your clit, and it felt so good, too good, better than anything you’ve ever felt before. You tried to contain the sounds coming through gritted teeth with all your might, knowing what he was doing, knowing giving him any indication of the pleasure he was giving you would mean another thing you’d have to pay for later, knowing you couldn’t allow him to enjoy this, you couldn’t possibly give him the satisfaction of knowing he could do this to you, but you couldn’t stop, not when his fingers curled in you and found the spongy part that made you see glimmering, blinding lights and his thumb circled your needy bud in the perfect way to heighten the sensations running through you, electrifying your every nerve. The moans turn into mewls as he increases the pressure and his pace, and you felt the pleasure in you reach a high that you were ready to ride out, your orgasm so close you could practically taste it, and you’re barely able to think about how fucking quick it was, how it took no time at all for him to get you there, how skilled his fingers, as they worked his ministrations on you. You had no will to think about what the fuck was happening, how weird it was, how the man you’ve hated for so long is doing this to you, before the feeling got too overwhelming to be contained anymore.

“Fuck, i’m gonna -“

“That’s right, tsxepvi. I can feel you squeezing my fingers. You want to come for me?”

“Argh, I-“

The moan you let you wasn’t of pleasure, it was of deep, throbbing pain as the emptiness overtook you, as soon as he removed his fingers.

He smirked, an evil smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as his fingers found his lips and he sucked on them, his tongue swirling in between them, licking every single drop.

“You taste fucking amazing, tsxepvi. Maybe next time, if you apologise and behave, you’ll actually get to cum.”

And with that, he was gone, living you an empty, horrified mess, as the high came crashing down violently and the consequences of the last few minutes replaced it to lead you in a spiral of mixed thoughts and feelings, each one more terrifying than the last.

'Cause I am lost, but not in you Yes, I am lost, but not in you

taglist: @fanboyluvr @theycallmesia @afro-hispwriter @soleilmoon @crazy4books1 @bakugouswaif@randxmthxughts @xreadersstuff @sirezaya @kimberlyshailany-blog @gyuventure @jujudsmyst @kikookii @nxptury @nonniesworld @koing-slvt @bakugouswaif @isnt-itstrange @tpwkforevermore @alahamums @tallulah477 @gknj9495@aquamarine001 @itssomeonereading @yumimak @sweetbread-m @eqgroil @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @juneonhoth @yagirlheree @jackiehollanderr @legendarynoodlebowl @iameatingmyhair @justasimps-blog

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star-dust-shark · 6 months ago

Text

pjo incorrect quotes as things me and people I know have said on crack

Jason: these grapes are funky

Leo: these grapes are fucky

Leo: *drops sandwich, cries*

Nico: I will never forget the fact that Piper and I where sitting together with headphones on and she looked up only to see me playing air guitar and head banging to whats my age again

Solangelo: *kith*

Will: *walking away with a dorky grin*

Will: *almost gets hit by car*

Will: *gets home and screams into pillow for twenty minutes, then picks up diary and writes like five pages about Nico, then texts him for like an hour and a half and afterwards draydreams about him*

Will: hmm I think I might like Nico

Leo: imagine having sex and someone moans like a hentai girl lol

Percy: *moans* KyAAaaaAAHHHhhhhhh

Reyna: bro apologized like Colleen Ballinger

Reyna: like fuck off I hope you die

Percy: tOxiC GosSiP tRaiN

Jason: not a groomer

Leo: *hair flip* just a loser

Piper: Im horny- I mean horngry- I mean- *cries*

Nico: mentally I am a fifty year old man

Will: yeah totally not obvious mister motley crue

Leo: jason

Leo: I have something to tell you

Jason: yeah?

Leo: Im gay

Jason: WHAT

Jason: NO WAY THATS CRAZY

Annabeth: my wrist hurts

Percy: emooooooooooo

Annabeth: I literally sprained it wtf

Hazel: no you cant commit mass genocide Nico

Nico: its pride month this is homophobic

Reyna: okay how about we play the quiet game

Reyna: whoever wins gets my two dollars

Reyna: three, two, one, ghost town

Frank:

Leo:

Percy:

Annabeth:

Jason:

Nico:

Leo: *face red, fists clenched, rocking back and forth*

Everyone: *concerned looks*

Leo: I cant- IM A BITCH IM A BOSS IM A BITCH AND A BOSS AND I SHINE LIKE GLOSS

Piper: your moms hot

Jason: lol what she ugly asf

Will: im concerned with your eating habits, Nico

Nico:

Will: its very serious Im kinda scared

Nico:

Nico: womp womp

Jason: would you suck my dick if-

Percy: yes

Jason:

Jason: if there was poison in it and I would die if you didnt

Leo: ive learnt something interesting

Leo: my arm skin one day may be cut off and turned into a penis

Leo: therefore...

Leo: *bumps arm into Jason*

Leo: JESUS JASON STOP TOUCHING MY PENIS

Jason: WHAT

*talking on tumblr*

Hazel: wyd

Frank: jus on tumblr and talking to you

Hazel: lol nerd imagine

Hazel: *bats eyelashes* what does gyat mean

Frank: uhh It means generous young amazing t-

Leo: GORL YA ASS THEEK

Rachel: Im so single

Will: skill issue? L ratio? no rizz? no game? no bitches?

Percy: I havent taken my meds

Annabeth: oh no good gods

Percy: so that means

Percy: I will either try to kill myself orrrrr

Percy: like violently fuck someone

Jason: I volunteer

Jason: I volunteer as tribute

Nico: hey girl *winks* r u a racoon

Nico: bc Im trash

Nico: *bursts into tears*

Annabeth: *walks into bathroom, sees spider*

Annabeth: *yelps* oh

Annabeth: hello mister spider

Annabeth: youre not so bad

Spider: *moves*

Annabeth: FUCK NAH PERCY WERE MOVING PACK YO BAGS

Jason: *hits knee* oh fuck- my knee-

Leo: okay

Jason: *scared* ur gonna fuck my knee????

Thalia: I am now a tree a tree I am a tree is me

Nico: im actually kinda insecure about my knees weirdly enough

Will: aww bb :(

Will: well I think you uh

Will: ...have beautiful knees???

Nico: *jokingly* I can read your mind

Will: oh no

Will: oh shit

Will: thats not good

Nico: it cant be that bad

Will:

Nico: are these thoughts about me, per chance?

Will: WHAAAAT NOOO *hangs up*

Leo: daddy hands, twig nerd bod

Leo: im confused why can girls call their friends girlfriends but whenever I call Jason my boytoy twink malewife manwhore someone gets pissed

Hazel: yeah, this guys really annoying me

Frank: ugh im gonna fist him

Hazel: ...

Frank: what

Frank: like beat him up?

Hazel:

Percy: my friend thinks youre cute

Annabeth: what? who?

Percy: me

Percy: Im the friend

Percy: I think ur cute

Nico: so weird when someone comforts you

Nico: like why

Nico: just lemme be a moody emo brooding sad angsty depressed boy for a bit

Piper:

Leo:

Piper:

Leo:

Piper:

Leo: *in toad voice* BItCH i SaiD wHaT i sAiD iD rAthEr bE FaMoUs InsTeAd iD LeT aLL Of ThAt GeT To MY heAd I DonT cArE ILL pAinT tHe ToWn ReD

Nico: *crafting with scissors*

Percy: *walks in*

Percy: what are you doing

Nico: ...crafting?

Percy: oh okay I thought you where cutting yourself

Nico:

Nico: IM MAKING A HELLO KITTY ART PIECE

Leo: *glares*

Frank: *glares back*

Frank and Leo: *glaring at eachother*

Leo: omg I just felt sparks

Frank: DUDE STFU WTF

*sees gay porn*

Will: thats it im homophobic

Nico: so I wrote this song

Nico: *adjusts mic, positions guitar*

Nico: *deep breath*

Nico: *strums single chord* my whole family died

Nico: thank you, thank you

Nico: just realized the only physical contact Ive had in like a whole month was Leo dabbing me up

Jason: straights ask why theres no straight pride month but like

Jason: isnt there a toyota month or smth

Jason: id say that works

#funny #lol #meme #pjo #hoo #toa #tsats #nico di angelo #will solace #jason grace #percy jackson #annabeth chase #leo valdez #reyna avila ramirez arellano

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choicesfandomappreciation · 1 month ago

Note

Choices Fandom Appreciation Day 1

I know I’m a day late, and have not been super active in this space, but I couldn’t miss the chance to thank some of the amazing people I’ve met here. I know I've missed some friends and I am so very sorry! I will post more

@ladylamrian my bestie, my first friend in this space, you are so talented and kind!! 🩷🩷 I adore all the world-building you have done for Nightbound, your beautiful Alex Clarissa Fontaine and Nik Ryder – you’re so talented, I love your fics and edits!! Also, when will you grace us with some Dino-MC fanfiction??!! But most of all, I appreciate our friendship, always! 🥰🩷

@thosehallowedhalls Cee, I adore you, I hope you know that! 💛💛You’re a kind, wonderful soul, you have brightened this space with your caring and generous presence. And boy are you talented!! I just eat all your works of fiction you’re such a good writer!! I appreciate our chats and your encouragements always, I will write that Sam Rose-Luke Watanabe fic one day! 😅🤭

@storyofmychoices As you know, your Mal and Daenarya are what drew me into this fandom, but your kindness, selflessness and just the warmth with which you treat us are what keeps me here. 🩷🩷 You’re a force of good in this fandom, thank you for all the time and effort you put into hosting events, the choiceskindness space and bookclub – amongst sooo many other things!! You are an immensely talented person, I treasure your art and fics and all your pairings fascinate me. While I adore your creativeness, I cherish who you are as a person and I’m just so thankful I met you!! 💛🥰

@lilyoffandoms I am just in awe at how talented you are!! I adore your art and your writing – your angsty blades fics live in my head rent-free. 💛 If it weren’t enough that you are an all-around supremely talented individual, you are also one of the kindest, most generous people I’ve met, gifting your time and talent to spread joy. 🩷 I really appreciate you and all that you do to make this space welcoming – and I adore seeing your art on my dash!!

@jerzwriter Elsa have always been in awe of your writing chops – you are such a talented and prolific writer, thank you for blessing us with your art 😊 I feel like I got to know you a little more through the Wake the Dead re-read and I really appreciate your kindness, creativity and no-nonsense attitude! 💛 You’ve made me feel welcome and seen, thank you! 🩷🩷 Also, how you’re a force within this fandom, giving so much of your time to spotlight writers, artists and creators. I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate you amiga!! Can’t wait for more Eli, Zoe, Troy and the gang!

@petalouda85 I really appreciate you! I love chit chatting about our blorbos, your Blades fics and your epic book!! You’re amazingly talented and so kind. I’m really glad I met you through this fandom and happy to count you as a friend 🥰🥰

@peonierose I am so glad I met you and we became friends! You are such a bright light in this fandom, you bring warmth, joy and kindness, even when you are going through difficult times. I appreciate you all the more for it. 🌺🩷 And please know I’m always here for you. I adore the world you’ve built for Luna and Bryce, it’s been wonderful getting to know them through your eyes. 🥰

@aallotarenunelma ma chère amie! J’apprécie énormément ta gentillesse et générosité. Même si on ne se parle pas beaucoup dernièrement, je pense souvent à toi et je t’apprécie comme amie. 💛💛 Tu es si talentueuse, le monde que tu as créé pour ID me fascine. Merci aussi pour ton appui et tes commentaires si généreux pour mes histoires. 🥰 Je suis vraiment contente de t’avoir rencontrée, et de te compter parmi mes amies

@gaiuskamilah Jam! I am in love with your brain! Love love love your BB fics and analysis, also Blades and CoP. You make me stop and think deeper about the lesser-appreciated characters *cough* Gaius *cough* - which I wholly appreciate. And you art!! I adore your art!! 💛

@aria-ashryver You are a supremely talented writer, and such a bright light in this fandom!!! ☀️💛 I admire your positivity, kindness even when you’re going through difficult times. I’m sending nothing but positive vibes your way hun, wishing you good health and positive energy! 🩷💛

@oh-so-youre-a-nerd just am in awe with your art! You’re so amazingly talented, I love seeing you on my dash. And I appreciate your kindness 💛

@choicesmc I am in awe with your creativity, I’ve said it to you and will say it again!! Your writing, your edits, your art – just I’m in awe. 🤩🤩 Love seeing your posts on my dash. You’re a force of good and positivity in this fandom, thank you for sharing your world with us!

@cadybear420: I adore your edits, headcanons and fics, you’re super talented, creative, but also really kind. You spread joy and positivity - I really appreciate you! 🥰💛

@erixadraws you are wonderful, talented and kind. 💛 You art always makes me smile – I’m in awe with how you draw our favorite blades babies. I treasure my modern Mal and Autumn!! I’m so glad I met you!

@angelasscribbles I adore your writing. You’re so talented – be it TRR or your Romance Club works, I devour every. Single. Word. I appreciate the time you put in through the monthly prompts and helping to unleash our creativity! (I really hope to participate more). Thank you for sharing your wonderful writing with us! 💛🥰

@bedtimegiraffe I love your Blades playthroughs and analysis - can't get enough of them! 💛

@rjschoicesstuff I love your art! thank you for sharing with us, and for all the wonderful pieces you’ve created for friends within this fandom. I always smile when I see your art on my dash! 🥰

@kyra75, @tessa-liam, @princess-geek, @rosesnink, @bri1234 you are all such kind presences in this fandom, supportive of others and fantastic writers! I can’t wait to read more of your works 💛

@missameliep Dani, I love your writing! Your miniseries with Troy Safe lives rent free in my head. I can't wait to catch up on your other works! 🩷

@artbyalz I am in awe of your talent! love seeing your art on my dash, thank you for sharing it with us! 💛

@trappedinfanfiction you're a wonderful presence in this fandom! I appreciate the love you give Imtura with your lovely MC Rán! You're a talented writer 🩷

@choiceswithmika, we haven’t interacted much lately but I love seeing your amazing edits on my dash! You’re super talented and so kind to create such wonderful edits and art for us 🥰🩷

@liaromancewriter thank you for sharing your wonderful fics with us and hosting the Choicesficwriterscreations blog and promoting all the wonderful creators across this fandom!! We haven’t interacted much but I’ve always admired your writing and your kindness in this space. 💛

@renninflight and @brycesgirl, I appreciate and value the positivity you spread in this little space, please know you are super appreciated (@brycesgirlforever thankful for your HS screenshots!! 😊)

💛

#choicesspreadkindness #choicesspreadkindness 2024 #choices spread kindness #choices fandom shoutout

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zeroseuniverse · 2 years ago

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hey hun,

idk if u're taking requests, but i'd like to requests something, feel free to ignore it if u don't want to write it or you're not taking requests hehe, don't worry <3

i was thinking of something very angsty/fluff like "he calls you clingy but then regrets it" yk? with changbin please :(

i've been following u for a while now and i love your writing sm and i really find it very comforting.

ly bb ♡

You're Loved

Summary: In which sometimes words slip out without meaning, but he can always make it up in the end Warning: Angst

She knew being an idol while dating an idol would be hard but if she had any idea that she would be so touch starved she probably would have second thought it all. Especially with a new comeback in the works for both of them, the two had gotten together right before his debut, being together for almost every milestone in each of their careers.

“All I’m saying is it’s both our day off and you’re here with the guys you see everyday and not spending time with me for the first time in months.” The woman said, feeling very disheartened by her boyfriend's notions.

“We never have down time together, we just wanted to relax!” Changbin argued, already irritable from the recent workload.

“Okay but you haven’t spent more than five minutes with me since you were sick a few months ago, and even then you were whining about the boys.” She snapped, throwing her hands up in exasperation, her boyfriend finally looking away from the game he was playing with the group who were now watching the argument in shock, they thought that she had been the one to cancel their plans for the night, that's what Changbin had told them.

“God if I knew you’d be this clingy I would’ve second thought all of this.”

The sentence elicited many gasps to erupt from the men, while the woman simply widened her eyes, scoffing out a laugh of disbelief. She took in the realization dawned on her boyfriend’s face before grabbing her keys, phone, wallet and jacket and walking out the door as quickly as possible. She could hear Changbin scuffling trying to get his things together to follow after her but she was quicker, ducking into an alley and waiting till he passed before making her way in the opposite direction of her home.

Knocking rapidly at the door before her fighting off the tears threatening to be released.

“Bug?” A voice cooed behind her, she spun turning to face Jimin who was holding groceries in his hands, he quickly dropped them, embracing the distressed girl into his arms gently. He maneuvered them into the apartment, nodding with his head for Yoongi, who had come to visit, to grab the groceries.

“What happened?” Jimin cooed, tightening his hold as he felt her losing her grasp on her emotions.

“It’s been months since we’ve spent time together, he just wanted to hang out with the boys.” She sobbed, feeling the months of emotional turmoil take its toll, “I don’t think he loves me anymore…” She finally said it, the sentence she had been thinking but refusing to say for months on end, hoping to deny it for as long as possible.

“Oh honey.” Yoongi cooed, pulling the two into a cuddle pile after setting the groceries in the kitchen.

“There is no way not to love you.” Jimin reassured, his statement only proved correct as 10 minutes later another round of rapid knocking erupted from the door.

“I know she’s here! Let me see her!” Changbin’s voice followed, both Yoongi and Jimin sat up away from the woman with warm smiles.

“You’re loved, and we could tell you all day but we aren’t the ones you need to hear it from. I can open the door, but if you don’t think you’re ready I’ll send him away.”

The choice was hers, she could fall back into the never ending cycle of feeling like she wasn’t good enough or she could open the door and hear the crying man out.

She stood from the couch moving to open the door, she leaned her head against it for a moment to regain her composure.

After one last breath she opened the door, facing her lover who had red rimmed eyes and his hair now disheveled.

“You didn’t go home, which I should’ve expected, you never go home when you’re upset. Jimin was your comfort person so I came here. I stood pacing for a while then I heard you say you thought I didn’t love you and oh my god how could I ever let you begin to think that. But then I started crying and I couldn’t come to you crying, you didn’t deserve that so-” He was silenced by his girlfriend holding her hand up to get him to take a breath between his rambling, “I just, I love you I do. I just got too comfortable and didn’t feel the need to keep trying because I thought I’d always have you, but after the words slipped out today I knew it would be so easy for you to leave me if I pushed you far enough, and I don’t want you far. I want you right here with me always.”

The woman teared up a bit as her boyfriend tried getting the proper words out, talking way too fast for anyone who didn’t know him to understand. She grabbed his hand gently and lifted his chin that was turned towards the floor so he’d face her.

“We both have a lot we need to work on, but for this to be worth it we both need to put the effort in. Always, not only when you feel like I’m slipping away. We need to always put effort into this relationship.” After receiving the fast nodding in response, she turned to her friends with a grateful smile, both of them moving to ruffle her hair before nudging her out the door with her boyfriend. “You’re loved.” being the last thing uttered between the group of four.

#straykids imagines #straykids fluff #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids reactions #stray kids angst #seo changbin imagines #changbin imagines #changbin x reader #kpop imagines #kpop idol x reader #idol x reader #kpop #fanfic #kpop scenarioes #idol imagines

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littlepadika · 2 years ago

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I can see the "requests closed tag" but there's still no hurt in trying 😭

I'm suffering so much with my period, I'd love to get to read something yours about daddy whiskey taking care of a little with a baad period and tons of PMS. 🥺

I love u padi! hope u are doing great! <3

aww i'm sorry i might be late but i hope you're okay bb!! depending on what kind of little you are it could be really hard to understand what's going on 🥺

Warnings: DDLG, menstruating little, angsty, description of blood/pms pain

Whiskey was good with timing your medication and hydration but this time it still wasn't enough. You were whimpering with a heated stuffie over your stomach. Jack is right there by your side, feeling rather useless. He wishes you didn't have to go through this.

"Daddy..." You whimper. "Was i bad?"

"hmm?" He sat up a little, frowning.

"p-p'cause it's worse-"

"Oh no, little lamb!" Jack stops your train of thought. "No no no." He kissed your cheeks. "This ain't a punishment. It's- it's a normal part of your body. I know it hurts right?"

"Mhm" you curl into his arms. Then suddenly you pushed away. "I hate this!" you practically scream. Jack knew you weren't screaming at him but he still had to stop himself from reprimanding you. You ran into the bathroom and slammed the door. Another thing he didn't normally tolerate but he knew it was just your hormones.

"Little lamb..." Jack slowly approached.

"Don't come in daddy!" He could tell you were crying and that made him want to break down the door even more.

"Please let me help you, little lamb..."

"You can't help!" You shout back and you sound so grown up when you say it, it makes his heart break a little.

Jack rested his head on the door in defeat. "Daddy wishes he could make yer period go away, little darlin'." He exhaled deeply. "But that don't mean I can't help. I'll hold you and kiss you and make it as comfy as I can. Just let me in, please."

There was a moment where he heard you rustling with your clothing.

"You can come in." You say and he slowly opens the door to find you on the toilet. "There's so much, daddy. I ruined my pajamas" You cry.

"I'm sorry, baby. Daddy can fix that though I promise." Jack knelt down and held your hands in his.

"Dey my favorite." You sniffle. It's true it was the ones with lambs and clouds it reminded you of the farm. He let you cry it out and rubbed your thighs soothingly.

"Mm I think some fresh air would do you wonders little lamb. Whenever you're ready. Daddy can get the wagon out and cart you around if you're too tuckered out. I know the horsies miss ya."

"Mkay, daddy." you squeeze his hands and give him a small smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

daddy masterlist

@lafresamilk @mamacitapascal @prettypedros, @marstheplanet @takochansugoi @oceanablue @iwishtobeastorm @dincrypt, @bac-1, @spacenerdpascal, @cranberrypills @punkerthanpascal @breezythesimp @djarinsimp @mylittlesenaar @bbybunbun @phnyx @xwalltoast @dreadwolfxoxo @xwalltoast @mswarriorbabe80 @bearcina @lokigirlszendaya @pedroslilbitch @star-wars-fan-2005 @din-jarhead @hillgoth @m4ngoj3lly @crabbae @im-a-mcsimp-for-mchotties @girlofchaos @joelsflannel @xoxabs88xox @nicolethered @sergeant-major-ghost @pretty-girl-likes-tea @alexxavicry @harriedandharassed

#daddy!whiskey #little!reader #anon #ask padika

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painful-pooch · 3 months ago

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*tackles*

Hiiiii my love! There are several things I’d love to see, not sure if I’m supposed to request more than one but I’ll give you my top choices and you can do what you want from there!

1. Bb Cass being his cinnamon roll self, I don’t know enough of the plot to request something super specific but maybe just him struggling on the streets?

2. I’m curious about Chevy, I know you say he’s a lot but if you feel like unleashing him a little bit go for it!

3. She’s not on the list but I will always take a Brumaria snippet hehe. Maybe some married couple fluff or Kane whump or angsty teenagers! Whatever au speaks to you atm

You definitely can! I am gonna do one post at a time just to not keep them long! So atm, it's Cas, then I plan for Whumper!Chevy, and then for Brumaria Fluff because it's so cute!!!!! I hope this makes you happy!

CW: homeless whumpee, hunger pangs, the beast, implied murder/violence

~~~

It's been days since Cassiel has been able to find food, and his stomach roars so hard, he partially wonders if it's the Beast in there. He hasn't heard it in a while, and is glad to not have to deal with the dark voice that curses him at almost all hours of the day, but it does haunt him at night. It's almost like… He gets hungrier because he's going out and doing things, but that's not possible, because he's asleep in the same spot each night. "Bah, yer just goin' crazy, wee fool," he mutters to himself playfully, limping through alleys and following the colors of various sounds he has figured out tie to things related to restaurants and places that serve food.

He can't travel around on the street front or the police will arrest him for being a Shifter, and he can't go back there. Not again… His hand goes over his face, the scar that permanently tied him to Officer Rowan, the one tasked to bring him down and study him, train him to be docile, and deem him worthy to society. His stomach clenches so hard, the man falls to his hands and knees, whimpering from the weakness in his body now, his head pounding. He crawls next to a small alcove by a spigot and catches some of the water, drinking it and thanking his Mum for the small blessing, but it's not enough.

He forces a smile and curls up on the cold asphalt, feeling his body wanting to catch some rest. "M-Maybe de world wasn't ready yet for a guy like me, eh?" He asks himself, when a voice snarls in the back of his mind in answer.

"I always have to do everything. I'll get you food, you miserable host of a demon."

Cas' eyes widen for a brief moment. "W-wait, don't hurt anyone."

Laughter. "Like you have the strength to fight me, boy. Face it. You give in now, or you die. What's your choice?"

The poor lad feels his lips tremble, the walls around the alcove closing in. "No m-more blood. Pancakes?"

"Hmmm. I'll see what I can do. Now… Where were we?"

#izzy asks #izzy writes #ask answered #cassiel belanger #whump oc #whump #homeless whumpee #the beast #implied murder/violence #hunger pangs

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pedroshotwifey · 6 months ago

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20 Questions for Writers 📑

I was tagged by @nerdieforpedro. Ty bb I love you ♥ I feel like some others may have tagged me in this a while ago so I send my thanks to you as well 🥰

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Technically, I only have 32. I would personally count all of my collections and challenges as separate fics, but I'm honestly too lazy to format them that way. (mostly thinking ab wcc here)

2. What is your total AO3 word count?

I have a total of 200,985 words right now. Didn't realize I'd hit the 200,00 mark yet!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I think it's safe to say Pedro Pascal is my fandom. I have no objections to writing for any other characters though---in fact, I've actually featured some Oscar Isaac characters in my fics before. I also have an unpublished Marc Spector fic that's been sitting in my docs for a while 🤭

4. Top Five fics by kudos:

Joel Fucking Miller (ao3 link) has 377 kudos. Dom Joel Miller fucks you over a table in this age gap enemies to....lovers(?) one shot.

Favorite Bounty (ao3 link) has 144 kudos. In this series, you unexpectedly hitch a ride with the Mandalorian and begin to grow close to him until you find out his secret.

Beg for it (ao3 link) has 121 kudos. Subby virgin Din is completely at your mercy in this one shot.

Wifey's Christmas Countdown collection (ao3 link) has 96 kudos. Lots of different characters and plots! Some are fluffy, some angsty, some smutty. Some are all three! Love these and I think some of my best writing can be found here.

Cramped (ao3 link) has 78 kudos. Subby virgin Din sitting in a teeny tiny cockpit with you. What more can I say? (gn! reader)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Always! It may take me a bit sometimes, but I love interacting with people who care enough to leave comments for me!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Already published, I think I'm gonna have to go with Cuts. I personally love this fic and think it's a bit underrated. (dark!husband Jack Daniels x f!reader)

OOO actually I think Alone Always is gonna take the cake here. (Din Djarin x gn!reader)

7. What is the fic you wrote that has the happiest ending?

I honestly have a habit of making most endings happy 😂 I don't feel like digging right now so I'm just gonna say What Matters. (Age gap Joel Miller x f!reader) This is also my most popular one shot on Tumblr with over 1,000 notes.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not too much, but I have gotten some shit for little things on TTF. This rly sucks because I let it get to me too much and I end up getting into a slump.

9. Do you write smut?

Do I write anything else?

jkjk, I love writing it all, but smut is for sure one of my more dominant themes!

10. Craziest Crossover?

Probably One Condition. Ezra (prospect) and Marcus Pike x f!reader. Messy dubcon-ish sex pollen one shot. It's pretty fun and got a lot of good feedback!

11. Have you ever have a fic stolen?

As far as I know, I have not. And I'm really hoping it stays that way! I'm just hoping that since my writing isn't super great, most copycats will stay away 🤣

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I'm aware of!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Have not, but I wouldn't be opposed. I know my friend (@kewwrites) and I have talked about doing fics and eventually crossing over into each other's before.

14. All time favorite ship?

Me and Pedro, Duh!!

Lmao nah in all seriousness, pls don't hate me, but I'm a little obsessed with Dinluke 😂🫣

And I'll go ahead and take this opportunity to say that my absolute least favorite ship is Dinbo 👎

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

omg I don't know 😭 I have some that are very slow going but I don't want to admit defeat because then it's set in stone 😂 Hopefully everything will be finished at some point!

16. What are your writing strengths?

No idea. I honestly think that sometimes I kind of lock in and am able to write immaculate stories, but most of the time they're just meh. Great at description at these times.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

BURNOUT FUCK YOU BURNOUT FUCKK YOU FUCK YOU VERY MUCH

Currently going through an awful streak of it and I'm stressing out because I finally have time to write and am just not able to 🫠

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Fantastic if used right! I love little terms here and there depending on the ethnicity of the character and their first language since it definitely adds to the authenticity. I do like for the translation to be at the end of the phrase/excerpt though instead of at the end of the fic.

19. First Fandom you wrote in?

PPCU! Loml fr

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

This is so tough because I forget them all 😭 And then I'll read them again a few months later and fall in love and be like "this is the best thing I've ever written", and then forget again. 🫠 I genuinely have no idea.

I would love more than anything right now though if anybody would care to drop their favorite fic of mine in the comments of this post or even in my inbox ♥ I think it would help a lot to hear atm!

NPT: @kewwrites @notjustjavierpena @iamasaddie @strang3lov3 @freelancearsonist @janaispunk @beardedjoel @ghostofaboy

#pedro pascal #fan fiction #ao3 #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #writer asks #tag game #fic recs #my fic #fanfiction #fanfic

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sitp-recs · 1 year ago

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HP Rec Fest, Day 21

Today’s is hands down of my favourite prompt from @hprecfest, what a banger! I love being wowed by thought-provoking fics and it was a pleasure to reread these two all-time favourites for this post. I really hope more people will feel intrigued enough to check these out! On a side note, I won’t be posting any recs for tomorrow’s prompt (day 22: a fic that hasn't been updated in 10 years or author stated it was abandoned) as I haven’t read unfinished works in years and I completely lost track of the ones I’ve read in the pre-AO3 era. See you again on Saturday!

Day 21) a thought-provoking fic:

Drarry

And Save Me From Bloody Men by @blamebrampton (T, 10k)

Draco Malfoy once watched others fighting to stop the world falling apart. This time, he's not just watching.

why yes, I’ll be screaming about BB and this particular fic until the end of times, thank you very much :))) this is easily the most thought-provoking fic I’ve read in the HP fandom and remains (frighteningly so) current and relevant despite having been written well over a decade ago. the world building is phenomenal, my jaw dropped as I was introduced to this fascinating post-war dystopia full of disturbing political allegories. it’s brilliant and depressing all at once. my heart belongs to this redeemed Draco who’s so capable and tough, trying to do the right thing for once; his chemistry with Harry is instant and deliciously uncomplicated, but a war romance is inherently angsty and this will tug at your heartstrings. so many feels! I loved seeing Draco’s side relationship with Ernie, the trust and camaraderie between them is sooo good. Draco’s character development is truly fascinating to watch and believe me when I say you are not prepared to face this thrilling yet devastating ending. it will make your heart race and blow your mind just like the rest of this witty, fierce and sophisticated commentary. an epic classic that definitely deserves more love and more obsessed readers to join me and @tackytigerfic 🤝

Rare pair

Help Wanted: God and Executioner by pir8fancier (Snarry, E, 20k)

The war is raging on and Harry learns that there are no right choices.

yet another grim and brilliant wartime fic, this one delves deeper into the brutal reality of war tragedy and loss. love the poignant dialogue, so very honest and in character, and the way the sexual tension builds urgent and insistent but still organically. there’s so much going on, so much hurt and grief all around, that seeing Harry and Snape disconnect and find comfort in stolen moments before (or more likely after) the storm hits is very cathartic. I loved getting immersed in their dynamics and conversations. the dialogue is so good but I must remind you that this is not a happy fic, although it has its tender moments. Harry’s loneliness and search for punishment are devastating but there’s also understanding, intimacy and worshipping sex (!) which is everything we want and need. if you’re a Snarry fan I highly recommend giving this a try and then checking all of pir8fancier’s catalogue bc they’re a fabulous author!

#hprecfest2023 #day 21 #a thought provoking fic

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marriedzukka · 1 year ago

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20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @lesmiserablol/@bisexuallsokka mwah thanks bb<3

1. how many works do you have on Ao3? only 4

2. what's your total Ao3 word count? currently at 247,209

3. what fandoms do you write for? just atla at the moment. haven't really felt the urge to write for anything else in a long time

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

4. alley cat blues 3. in the darkest shade of blue 2. wanna bet 1. real enough to get me through

5. do you respond to comments? i try to but i dont do it as much as i would like

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? i dont write angsty endings. hope this helps

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? out of the two that are actually completed, probably wanna bet because it's just afterglow pillow talk lmao. but darkest shade of blue ends with them being cuddly on a beach, so who's to say

8. Do you get hate on fics? no

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? i did one and would like to do more eventually. there is so much filth just sitting in my notes app right now it's unbelievable

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? nope

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? not that i know of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? nope

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? no but i would like to try it at some point!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? i mean. probably zukka

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? if i'm honest, a lot of them lol writing is hard. but one that stands out is probably a roommates/roadtrip/oh no there's only one bed au that i started a couple of years ago but just don't have the drive to actually write

16. What are your writing strengths? i think i'm good at emotional scenes and giving them weight. also writing little Izumi...sometimes you read a story and it's clear that the author has never spent time around an actual human child but i think (i hope) that my Izumi is realistic

17. What are your writing weaknesses? i hate exposition <3

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? can be done but obviously some thought/research needs to go into it

19. First fandom you wrote for? once upon a time...

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

this should be obvious by now, but retgmt. It is my heart.

tagging @ofherlionheart @chitsangenthusiast and @ whoever else wants to do it

#thanks again jo beloved #tag game

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askinkiskarma · 2 years ago

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I JUST READ THE LATEST CHAPTER OF MONSTER IN ME AHHHH tumblr wouldn’t let me paste my comment on the actual post since i type it on my notes app ): so here it is for you:

OMFG i finally had the chance to read and….you’ve outdone yourself once again. This chapter was a WHIRLWIND!!! honestly this dynamic is just so interesting because they are both so mean to each other, yet reader folded so quickly at the end? and how does everyone see past their bullshit??!seriously i think this dialogue is my favorite yet because it’s just so tension filled, SHARP, and entertaining. HOW DO YOU EVEN COME UP WITH IT? i especially loved o’i’en’s dialogue because he read the reader to filth 😭 jake’s sweet little moment was so cute! how will they even transition from enemies to lovers because the enemies part is HEAVY rn 😭 reader is stronger than me i would have bit neteyam’s fingers off for being so mean HAHAHA these two idiots need to be locked in a room together and talk it out because we still need to know neteyam’s reasoning for doing a 180

OMG KENDRA MY LOVE

honestly, i'm really enjoying writing this series and it's such a different vibe for me, but it's so much fun. like all my other series, i love so so much, but they're sad and angsty and so very serious 99% of the time, and don't get me wrong i love that, but i'm loving the lighter tones of MIM and that i get to write more humour/banter/sarcasm/snark (which is basically my personality anyway), so i'm so happy you are enjoying the dialogue!! :((((

yesss, i'm happy o'i'en stood up for himself and prove that he's not a pushover and he understands that despite what both of them say, there's a lot more under the surface than just hate, and i'm happy he respected himself enough to walk away with his head held high!!

honestly??? i don't know HAHAHAHAHA. i love when people tell me that they're excited to see where it goes cause i'm like ...MEE TOO!!! hahahah guess we'll see soon enough ;) i'm so happy you're enjoying the series and i hope you enjoy the rest and ily and biggest smooches for my bb

#my asks 💕#˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ꕥ andra's mooties #monster in me series #kendra bb 🥰

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ohsomightypeaches · 2 years ago

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He grins and deposits the key in your waiting palm. ‘You can ask Joel for help, you know. He’s handy with this kind of stuff.’

😏 you don't say...

You blink, blindsided by the seemingly random mention of his brother - but his dimpled smile tells you otherwise.

I SEE WHAT YOURE DOING SIR 🤭

Or does he?

😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

Tommy graciously lets you off the hook. ‘We’re a bit short on sweets, actually, if you bake.’

LOL

‘Do you make a carrot cake?’

🤨 hold up. I THOUGHT you SAID SWEETS 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨 CARROT CAKE?! that's the first go to for SWEETS?!?!??!

Okay but if this is because it's hard for like chocolate to come by because it's apocalypse and you can just ✨️grow✨️ carrots 😔 now I'm sad. Reason 39474662 I will not make it in apocalypse

He flashes you a cheeky grin. ‘What a funny coincidence, it’s Joel’s as well - the only way to get carrots in him.’

SON OF A BITCH OH HES GOOD. he's very good.

Your pulse spikes with adrenaline at the unexpected tidbit Tommy drops in your lap, and you greedily squirrel that little fact away, slowly colouring in the Joel-shaped space in your head.

I love this description. It's adorable and so visual.

Where he is not.

For one day can we not be angsty Joel 😩 PLEASE RELAX FFS UNCLENCH YOUR JAW OLD MAN LET YOUR CREAKY HIPS REST* (*from survival mode)

And then all that noise had blown up, literally, with the State House. With Tess.

OOF. in italics?! Was the italics necessary?! Why does it hit so much harder in italics

‘Watch your language,’ he barks, no real bite behind it.

😭🖤 he's so dad.

There are times when he wonders to which extent all this is a coping mechanism. But well, at least she’s coping.

😭 BBS

They nod at him now as they file into the garden party, still keeping their distance, but not as much as he would’ve liked.

Ah yes I forgot he was a feral cat man

Well, he supposes dinner parties at Bill and Frank’s count, as far and few in between as they were. Not that they ever celebrated anything specific, per se - they didn’t need a reason beyond the fact that they were all still alive and kicking. Bill, bless his soul, did make a mean roast, and Frank used to host with enough flair for forty instead of four. Tess had a black dress she stowed away at the back of her closet for these parties, and a red one that she saved for the really special occasions -

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

‘I was just now,’ he grunts pointedly.

LOL how very older sibling of you

‘Don’t try to butter me up. I ain’t babysittin’ for you.’

Hes old and tired 😔 leave my feral cat mans alone

He can’t help a smile. ‘But for all your devious plans to get into her babysitter’s pants, Sarah did love her Uncle Tommy.’

Oh that hurt

Tommy nudges him on the shoulder. ‘I can only hope my kid will love their Uncle Joel just as much.’

😭 why do you want me to cry today

Eventually, he harrumphs, ‘If they do - I’ll think about the babysittin’.’

😭😭😭😭

You’re wearing the jeans he asked you to.

😏😌🔥

Does he… hug you? He can count on three fingers who he’s hugged for the past twenty years, and he’s sorely out of practice. A kiss is an option, but the way his eyes dart to your mouth, it’s dangerous even entertaining that thought -

Joel do you even strategize this much in that short amount of time when a bloater is coming at you? Lol

With a shrug, he jokes, ‘It’s ok, I’m a bit broken all over.’

😭💀 JOEL

A smirk on his lips, he steps into your space, the very proximity of him stealing the air from your lungs. ‘I might if you’re not careful.’

😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

‘They’re comin’ closer,’ Joel complains, taking a long gulp of his beer.

LOL you scared bro?

‘I guess they figure if I’m talking to you, it means that you don’t actually bite,’ you quip.

💀💀💀 okay but you can't approach a feral cat just because it decided it's okay with one person

‘Will they back off if I make you cry?’

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀 they'll back off too if YOU start crying I'm sure lol

Joel splutters, ‘A hot tub?’

Andrew is living like a king in apocalypse.

‘Let’s just say Jackson is a commune with American characteristics,’ you say diplomatically.

🤣🤣🤣🤣

‘I was a contractor in another life.’

Yeah fuck Andrew and his hot tub 🔥

‘Here and there,’ you say with a dismissive wave. ‘It’s not important. It’ll hold up.’

YOU HAD A PERFECT IN WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU. YOUR BROKE ASS DOOR NEEDS FIXING WHAT DO YOU MEAN.

Joel gives her a firm shake of the head, to which she responds with a disgruntled I’m watching you gesture.

LOL

‘Why’s she starin’ at me?’ he mutters.

She wants to adopt you obviously feral cat man

His eyebrows shoot up. ‘You made cream cheese? How?’

???????? You what now????

‘It’s not that big a deal. It’s just milk, lemon and salt,’ you say, trying to downplay it. Your arms are definitely not aching from the hours of straining and beating and whipping.

Oh no big. Just ✨️made✨️ cream cheese 😦 I literally just found out what the ingredients to cream cheese is. Who MAKES CREAM CHEESE

Joel hums doubtfully. ‘Ain’t seen any walnut trees in town.’

Why do you know what walnut trees look like? IS IT BECAUSE ITS FORAGEABLE?!?!?! 😭

Lies. You know it. He knows it.

🤭

His lips twitch wryly. ‘What a waste of perfectly good cream cheese.’

ARE YOU GOING TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT? HMMMMM?????? 👀👀👀👀

Then, holding your eyes, he sucks the cream cheese off his fingertip, a hum deep in his throat. ‘Delicious, sweetheart.’

It's me I'm a puddle on the floor again

He looms closer, bending at the waist and for one moment of madness, you think he might lean down and lick your neck clean.

AS HE SHOULD

But he doesn’t.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

Not only would you have let him - you would’ve trusted him to do all those things to you.

*high pitched scream only dogs can hear*

‘You can have my shirt,’ he offers.

�� tumny?!

Your fingers twitch, yearning to reach out and tug him in by the front of his jeans, to untuck that vest and push it up and off. You want to snake your hands around his waist, hold him to you by the small of his back, and starting with his tummy, kiss your way across the soft belly - maybe with a cheeky scrape of teeth - up to his firm chest, his strong neck and to his lips.

😭😩🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 I too just want to squish and nibble. 😔

Your whole body jolts backwards when his voice pierces through your addled haze, low and raspy, snapping out of your sordid stupor almost grumpily - how rude of him to interrupt? - only to find him peering down at you with a lopsided smile.

😤 won't lick the cream cheese frosting off and now THIS?!?!?? unacceptable. Rude. So rude. How dare.

Joel arches an eyebrow and closes the gap between you with three long, deliberate steps, one finger skimming where his shirt meets the waistband of your jeans. He teases with a smirk, ‘What’s that, sweetheart? This contractor look doin’ somethin’ for you?’

😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😤 of course it is.

Running a tired hand down his face, Joel’s sigh sounds a lot like surrender. ‘Ellie, this is Pin. Pin, I’m sorry.’

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

‘Please,’ he interjects.

He's back in tired dad mode I love it

Joel scoffs. ‘Good to know those three weeks fixing that piece of junk for you was time well spent.'

I can just hear the sass 🤣🤣🤣

Stepping back, Ellie winks, ‘So - let’s put a pin in it for now?’

HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHHAA thats my girl 😌

She scampers out of sight, but then reverses into view, sneakers squeaking. ‘ - Are you wearing Joel’s shirt?’

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

You don’t even have the presence of mind to be embarrassed when your shins knock into his, breaking the kiss with a laugh as Joel hauls you up into his chest, looking very much pleased that he’s literally made your knees buckle.

😌🔥

‘You’ve made yourself scarce,’ remarks Lucy as she ambles up to you with a glass of wine running low. ‘Where you been, hon?’

Did you get the door fixed? No? Mind your own business Lucy 😤

Your Ellie was great puns and all. 10/10 no notes. 😌🔥

III ║ Edgestitch

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Part II: Threads | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: M

Summary: You wear those jeans for Joel when you see him again at the baby shower at Tommy and Maria's - like he asked you to.

Warnings: Spicy thoughts but not explicit, sexual tension, sexual innuendos, flirting, mention of food and drink, some language, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!Joel, no use of Y/N

Word count: 7k

Notes: It's here! This one was a long and winding road as I mentioned in Behind the Seams, I'm so relieved and excited when it all finally clicked and fell into place! I'm absolutely blown away by the love you guys have shown Joel and Pin so far, thank you, there's no greater motivation for a writer ❤️ I hope you guys enjoy the chapter!

‘Damnit, Lucy,’ you mutter under your breath, this close to stamping your foot and pouting at the door that refuses to lock up.

Lucy may be your best friend, but you’re not blind to the fact that she literally cannot be trusted to get anything done around the shop. It’s been two weeks since she promised to get the locksmith to come in, but here you are on Friday evening, wrestling with the key that refuses to turn the last quarter of an inch in the faulty lock.

‘Hey, Pin!’

Glancing over your shoulder, you force a wane smile at Tommy, who has his hands full with a cardboard box at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Need some help?’

‘Yes, please,’ you reply sheepishly.

You nod at the bottles of wine that clink delicately against one another as he sets them down. ‘Getting ready for the party on Sunday?’

Tommy steps up to the door and wriggles the key left and right experimentally. ‘Yeah, you comin’, right?’

‘Yes, with Lucy.’

‘Good, the more the merrier!’ He makes a face at the door lock, which is not cooperating with him either. ‘You should get someone to look at it. Probably time for a new one.’

‘Lucy was supposed to get Andrew to fix it, but you know Luce.’

Tommy yanks the door knob backwards hard as he twists the key. There’s a grunt of metal, and a triumphant aha! when it finally turns, the internal mechanisms of the lock sliding into place with a satisfying click.

You nearly fall onto your knees in relief. ‘Thank you so much, Tommy. You’re a lifesaver.’

He grins and deposits the key in your waiting palm. ‘You can ask Joel for help, you know. He’s handy with this kind of stuff.’

You blink, blindsided by the seemingly random mention of his brother - but his dimpled smile tells you otherwise.

His brother, who was so solid and broad under you on the studio floor, just a few days ago. His brother, who you can still feel pressed between your thighs, in your bed in the dead of night. His brother, who has taken up residence in your mind, waking or otherwise, since he sauntered out of your shop with that infuriatingly attractive confidence when he asked you to to wear those jeans for him again on Sunday.

Joel has existed solely and safely in the parameters of your workspace for the past fortnight and a half, with only Lucy bearing witness to whatever it is between the two of you. Having to suddenly deal with any mention of him outside of it, especially with that knowing arch of Tommy’s eyebrow, has you completely flustered. It doesn’t help that his eyes are uncannily like Joel’s, a gorgeous deep brown, expressive and sharp, though the mischief sits a lot closer to the surface in the former’s.

Mercifully, your brain unscrambles long enough for you to reach the conclusion that of course, Joel must have told Tommy that he invited you and Lucy. It’s their party, after all. Surely, he doesn’t know anything else -

Or does he?

You’ve been quiet for too long to say anything about it now, so you clumsily change the subject, stumbling over your words. ‘I, uh - I was just wondering what I could bring on Sunday?’

Tommy graciously lets you off the hook. ‘We’re a bit short on sweets, actually, if you bake.’

You latch on to that gratefully. ‘I do - what kind of cake were you thinking?’

‘Do you make a carrot cake?’

You perk up. ‘It’s my favourite!’

He flashes you a cheeky grin. ‘What a funny coincidence, it’s Joel’s as well - the only way to get carrots in him.’

Your pulse spikes with adrenaline at the unexpected tidbit Tommy drops in your lap, and you greedily squirrel that little fact away, slowly colouring in the Joel-shaped space in your head.

With a wink, Tommy bends down to pick up the wine. ‘See you in a couple of days, Pin!’

At least you have the decency to wait until he turns the corner - once he does, you sprint across the road to the Jackson Grocer’s and clear out their stock of carrots for the day.

There are many things about Jackson that throw Joel.

The plentitude after years of rations. The safety, which comes off more jarring than comforting.

But most of all, it’s the sounds. The kettle on the boil and the pop of the toaster in the morning when Ellie gets ready for school. Friendly chatter on the high street. Laughter. It still makes him jump when he hears playful shrieks in the neighbourhood playground, blood rushing in his ears and sending him halfway across the house for his rifle before he remembers where he is.

Where he is not.

It was always loud in the QZ. Loudspeakers blaring, alarms wailing, the indistinct hum of conversation and radio through paper thin walls in the slums at all hours of the day. And he was always listening - for danger, for trouble, and everything in between.

And then all that noise had blown up, literally, with the State House. With Tess.

Joel finds it hard to remember those first few days after leaving Boston behind. Mostly the raw cuts on his knuckles that wouldn’t heal and the ring in his right ear from the explosion, lingering like a pesky fly.

But he knows it was Ellie who broke that silence first. And once that door was kicked down -

‘Fuck no, dude!’

His face snaps up and he scowls across the lawn, the stern reprimand rolling off his tongue like second nature. ‘Ellie!’

She’s sitting with her friends, crowded around her most prized possession of the moment, a boombox she found in the thrift shop a couple of months ago and begged him to buy and fix up for her.

Not that she needed to do much begging, he caved far too easily. It plays a bit wonky - the bass too heavy - still, it does the trick.

The teenagers around her cower immediately, but she defiantly stands her ground. ‘What?’

‘Watch your language,’ he barks, no real bite behind it.

She rolls her eyes so hard her head falls back, and he has to press his lips together to not smile.

It helps him sleep better at night seeing Ellie fit right in - at least one of them has. She doesn’t hate going to school half as much as she pretends to, the routine of homework and chores anchoring her to small town life. She’s even volunteered to help out at the farm, spending most afternoons in the stables with the horses.

There are times when he wonders to which extent all this is a coping mechanism. But well, at least she’s coping.

And while Joel still hasn’t made up his mind about Jackson, its townsfolk seem to have unilaterally made theirs up about him. The wary whispers and watchful stares have given way to cautious gestures of acknowledgement, some even bold enough to throw a good morning in his general direction as he walks down the street.

They nod at him now as they file into the garden party, still keeping their distance, but not as much as he would’ve liked.

The expectant parents have gone all out for the occasion. Several tables are lined up end to end in the middle of the garden, filling up with potluck dishes as guests arrive. Tommy lords over the barbeque, the brisket having been smoking since dawn, with chicken, bacon and homemade sausages sizzling on the grill. Maria is in her element, flitting from well wisher to well wisher with a protective hand over her rounded belly, making sure everyone has a drink and a loaded plate in hand.

Joel hovers in no man’s land, dodging the crowds and sipping on beer that has long gone flat, trying to remember the last time he celebrated anything.

A strong hand on his back jolts him forward and out of his thoughts, spilling lukewarm beer over his fingers.

‘Havin’ a good time, brother?’ asks Tommy jovially, cheeks stretched with joy.

‘I was just now,’ he grunts pointedly.

Tommy grins. ‘Lighten up, man. Get drunk, be merry! You’re gonna be an uncle.’

‘Don’t try to butter me up. I ain’t babysittin’ for you.’

Thumping his chest in mock hurt, he asks, ‘What about all those times I babysat Sarah, man?’

Joel gives him a long-suffering side stare. ‘Please. You used to hire that college chick ‘cross the street to babysit whenever you were supposed to. Then you’d hit on her all night long.’

Tommy chuckles. ‘Damn, your mind’s in better shape than I give you credit for, old man.’

He can’t help a smile. ‘But for all your devious plans to get into her babysitter’s pants, Sarah did love her Uncle Tommy.’

He goes quiet for a beat and takes a sip of his beer, his eyes softening. ‘I think about that girl every single day, y’know.’

Joel nods, staring into his own beer, and it suddenly strikes him that he’s missed the shape of her name on his lips. ‘I know.’

Tommy nudges him on the shoulder. ‘I can only hope my kid will love their Uncle Joel just as much.’

Eventually, he harrumphs, ‘If they do - I’ll think about the babysittin’.’

Tommy chortles just as the backdoor to the porch swings open with a loud creak.

Joel spots you easily, trailing one step behind Lucy. You’re holding onto a cake on a round wooden board like a security blanket, shoulders tense and eyes wide at the noise of the festivities. Spotting Maria, Lucy bounds down the stairs, leaving you hesitating at the landing, and -

You’re wearing the jeans he asked you to.

Something primal swells in the cavity of his chest, between his ribs - a pride that is distinctly male.

Tommy shouts, ‘Pin! Over here!’

Joel shifts on his feet, swallowing thickly as you approach. If your shy smile is anything to go by, he’s not the only one feeling the nerves.

His brother gives you a careful hug around the cake and plants a kiss on your cheek. When he steps aside, Joel hesitates, uneasy with having an audience, his palms suddenly clammy with indecision.

Tommy elbows him in the ribs and puts him out of his misery. ‘Why don’t you kids catch up, I think the brisket’s burnin’. Have fun tonight!’

Joel can feel the tip of his ears turning red as he stands there with his drink, one hand shoved in his back pocket, not knowing how to do this. How to entertain. Clearing his throat, he stammers, ‘Uh - can I get you a drink or somethin’?’

You give him a small smile, lips moving in an answer too quiet to reach him over the music. Rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, he admits, ‘Sorry, I can’t hear you. I’m uh - a bit deaf in my right ear.’

You look apologetic, speaking up, ‘I’m sorry - I didn’t know.’

With a shrug, he jokes, ‘It’s ok, I’m a bit broken all over.’

You pinch your lips, and he recoginses that face - he knows that you want to disagree with him. But you hold your tongue, skirting around him to his good ear, and he stoops to close the distance, even though he doesn’t need to.

Your breath brushes his ear. ‘I’d love a drink, but I want to put this cake away first.’

‘Yes, of course - sorry, don’t know where my manners went.’ He puts his unfinished beer away and takes the cake from you despite your protests. The potluck table is packed to the brim, so he gestures towards the house. ‘It might have to go into the kitchen for now.’

You follow him, side by side with one polite body width between you, past bands of neighbours and friends catching up, the fairy lights catching your eyes and the well-kept lawn crunching beneath your soles. Unsurprisingly, you feel the weight of curious stares on your back as you go - Joel is still very much a novelty around town. Neither of you speak until he holds open the backdoor for you to slip inside.

It’s quiet in the kitchen, the muted conversation outside a low hum through the double-glazed windows. The free-standing island is already chock full of all kinds of baked goods and pudding, and Joel has to move an actual jelly castle (which wriggles precariously) to free up space for your contribution.

Dusting his hands, Joel turns to you. ‘That carrot cake?’

You nod, keeping mum.

‘It’s my favourite.’

‘I know - Tommy told me,’ you confess with a bashful half-shrug.

His warm eyes crinkle at the corners. ‘Talkin’ about me behind my back, sweetheart?’

Your breath quickens at the sweetheart, and you wonder if the thrill of the nickname will ever wear thin. Emboldened, you tilt your head to one side and tease, ‘Why? You like the attention?’

A smirk on his lips, he steps into your space, the very proximity of him stealing the air from your lungs. ‘I might if you’re not careful.’

And there you are again - with nothing more than a dozen words exchanged and even more unsaid - on the brink of something, right where you left off on the workshop floor.

‘Wanna grab a bite to eat?’

Tucked away in an intimate corner of the back porch in a wicker chair, Joel surveys the party with a seriousness that is borderline comical.

The strategist in him clearly favours the higher ground the porch affords him so he can keep an eye on everyone and spot whoever approaches from a distance. His seat is an easy three steps to the door, an escape plan in his back pocket. For all his stillness, the intensity is unmistakable, if slightly out of place in a baby shower.

Two dirty plates licked clean are stacked on the coffee table between you, piled high with bones and leftover gravy, the delicious food sitting warm in your stomach.

‘They’re comin’ closer,’ Joel complains, taking a long gulp of his beer.

‘I guess they figure if I’m talking to you, it means that you don’t actually bite,’ you quip.

‘Will they back off if I make you cry?’

Your shoulders quake with a chuckle. ‘I think you’re too much of a gentleman to do that, Joel Miller.’

You’re taken aback by the flash of heat in his answering glance, as if there’s something he wants to say. But then, he changes his mind and leans back in his chair, one palm resting on his spread thighs, and he nods towards a couple standing close to the barbeque.

‘Who’s that over there? He lives on my street.’

‘That’s Andrew. He owns the only hot tub in Jackson.’

Joel splutters, ‘A hot tub?’

‘To be fair, it came with his house, but he managed to connect it to the water a few months ago.’

He snorts. ‘Not very communist of him to divert public resources for a private hot tub.’

‘Let’s just say Jackson is a commune with American characteristics,’ you say diplomatically.

He arches an eyebrow at you. ‘A cynic, sweetheart?’

You reply matter-of-factly, ‘We all know how communism ended.’

Fuck. He takes a swig of his beer and swallows hard. A woman after his own heart.

‘You want to keep him on your good side though. He’s really handy with electrics and the like.’

He shrugs. ‘So am I.’

You turn to him, surprised. ‘Oh?’

‘I was a contractor in another life.’

He notices your attention flicker to his hands, before you catch yourself and look away bashfully. ‘That’s good to know.’

‘You need things fixed?’ he asks, and promptly wants to kick himself for sounding so hopeful to be of service.

‘Here and there,’ you say with a dismissive wave. ‘It’s not important. It’ll hold up.’

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip thoughtfully. You have to work on asking for things, but it’s ok - he doesn’t push you. He files that away for later.

Glancing across the yard, he catches Ellie’s eye, who’s arching an inquisitive eyebrow and pointing straight at you with all the subtlety of a flying brick. He knows he should probably introduce you at some point, but he’s not ready to share your attention with someone else just yet, let alone the nosy teenage loudmouth.

Joel gives her a firm shake of the head, to which she responds with a disgruntled I’m watching you gesture.

Ignoring her for now - and knowing that he’ll pay for it later - he asks you, ‘And who’s that in the red dress?’

You crane your neck until you spot her. ‘Ah, that’s Patricia. She’s the dance teacher down at the school.’

‘Why’s she starin’ at me?’ he mutters.

You shoot him an amused grin. ‘Why, it looks like you’ve caught the fancy of our local femme fatale.’

He scoffs. ‘Should I be worried?’

‘Well, she’s been married and divorced three times since she arrived,’ you answer with a straight face. ‘The last one just disappeared. Never found his body.’

Joel stares at you in stunned silence, until you let out a poorly contained giggle. He grumbles, ‘Havin’ fun pullin’ my leg, sweetheart?’

‘Just a bit,’ you tease.

‘I liked you better when you were shy,’ he ribs.

You shrug. ‘Too late. You don’t scare me anymore.’

Glancing the other way, Joel sits up in alarm at the flutter of crimson fabric. ‘Shit, I think she’s comin’ this way.’

‘Time for carrot cake?’ you prompt.

He’s out of his chair quicker than you’d expect his knees would allow him to. ‘Let’s go, sweetheart.’

The state of the kitchen island stops you in your tracks, while Joel lets out a low whistle behind you. ‘Jackson really turned out for this party, huh?’

‘Well, your brother and sister-in-law are pretty popular around town,’ you quip.

You didn’t think it was possible, but every square inch of the kitchen island is now jam-packed with sugary confections, stacked on top of one another.

‘I can’t even find the bloody cake,’ you laugh, literally searching high and low as you skirt the parameter.

On the other side of the island, Joel tosses a dry good luck in your direction and puts the dirty plates and cutlery that he brought in into the sink with a clatter, turning on the hot water. You stutter to a stop opposite him, gawking at how his broad shoulders fill the frame of the window that sits in front of the sink, before your gaze inadvertently trails south - over the nip of his waist and the hem of his shirt skirting the back pockets of his jeans. You find yourself wishing he’d tucked the tails in.

Rooted to the spot, you watch him unbutton the cuffs on his flannel shirt and push up the sleeves to the crease of his elbows, baring his strong forearms. Your mouth goes dry despite the wine you’ve been sipping on all evening, peering at the sinewy muscles flexing and straining as he lathers the plates with an offhand familiarity, his thick fingers dwarfing the sponge in as he works the grease stains.

Making quick but thorough work of the washing up, Joel dries the plates and then runs the tea towel over his big hands and wrists, catching you staring as he turns around. If he knows you’ve been watching all along, he lets it slide. Tossing the towel to one side, heat prickles under your cheeks when he sidles up to you with the clean plates.

The sight of this man doing something as mundane as dishes really shouldn’t get you this hot and bothered.

‘Is that cream cheese?’ he asks conversationally with a nod at your cake, which you have found sitting on top of a tall plastic caddy, a chocolate cake inside.

Having to consciously unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, you’re surprised your voice doesn’t shake. ‘It’s not carrot cake without it.’

‘Where did you get the cream cheese? Never seen any ‘round town.’

Almost bashful, you admit, ‘I made it.’

His eyebrows shoot up. ‘You made cream cheese? How?’

‘It’s not that big a deal. It’s just milk, lemon and salt,’ you say, trying to downplay it. Your arms are definitely not aching from the hours of straining and beating and whipping.

‘And the walnuts?’ he asks.

‘Someone I know grows it,’ you say vaguely.

Joel hums doubtfully. ‘Ain’t seen any walnut trees in town.’

Biting your bottom lip, you can pinpoint the exact moment he figures it out, brows drawing together in a frown. ‘The only ones I’ve seen are outside the walls, ‘round the north side of the gates.’

Knowing for a fact that you’re a terrible liar, you don’t even try. You choose to ignore him, idly smoothing the frosting on top with a clean knife, trying not to flinch at the weight of his gaze on you.

‘Sweetheart, please tell me you didn’t go outside just to get walnuts for me.’

‘Not for you,’ you shoot back unconvincingly, flustered. ‘I made the cake for Tommy and Maria.’

Lies. You know it. He knows it.

His shoulders stiffen, the fabric of his shirt bunching with the movement. ‘You can’t just go outside like that, y’know, there could be infected ‘round -’

‘Joel, I’ve been living here for years, I know what I’m doing,’ you argue huffily, not expecting a lecture, of all things. ‘I’m not stupid.’

He shakes his head. ‘Ain’t what I’m sayin’, Pin -’

‘Just leave it, ok?’ you reply sharply and, signalling an end to the conversation, you slice into the cake with an aggressive stab - not noticing that it is hanging over the edge of the caddy below.

You squeak when it flips unceremoniously, and on pure impulse, you pitch forward to stop its upward trajectory, meeting it mid-air with an ominous splat.

‘Fuck!’

To his credit, Joel barely skips a beat, quickly but calmly grabbing hold of the cake board and pulling it off you, setting it down on the counter, while you gape in dismay at the damage done.

The side of the cake that made contact with you is smushed in, most of the thick frosting now painted all over your front, from your neck down to the lovely, thin cashmere top that Lucy picked out for you for the party.

You really hope there’s a big guy up there watching, because someone might as well enjoy this mortifying brand of comedy you keep dishing out around this man.

Two seconds more, and you’re pretty sure you would’ve burst into tears for lack of knowing what else to do - but without another word, Joel takes the lead, wrapping a firm hand around your wrist and pulling you out of the kitchen.

You gratefully let him.

It’s none of your business really, but it comforts you that Joel’s obviously here often enough to know his way around the house.

You glance around the dimly lit room where he deposited you on the edge of a neatly made bed, water trickling in the adjoining ensuite. When he returns, he has a small, wet towel in his hands. Towering over you, the low lights don’t quite reach his face, but you can see the way his gaze slips downwards, carefully, as if he’s afraid to startle you.

But he doesn’t - not even when he slides the crook of his fingers under your chin, tilting your face up and opening up your throat.

His lips twitch wryly. ‘What a waste of perfectly good cream cheese.’

Despite yourself, a laugh escapes you at the absurdity of the situation. ‘Must something always go wrong whenever we’re in the same room?’

The corner of his mouth teases a smile. ‘Never a dull moment with you, sweetheart.’

You smile back, but it falters when his eyes burn in a quiet but unmistakable smoulder.

‘May I?’

You’re not even sure what he’s asking. But he can ask you anything in that raspy, low baritone, and there will always only be one answer.

At your nod, Joel drags the tip of his index finger down the column of your neck, and your lips part when it glides over your windpipe - pressing just hard enough for you to feel the pressure - collecting the velvety frosting as it goes.

Then, holding your eyes, he sucks the cream cheese off his fingertip, a hum deep in his throat. ‘Delicious, sweetheart.’

You’re sitting down, but somehow, you still feel your knees give way at how he smacks his lips at the sugary aftertaste.

He looms closer, bending at the waist and for one moment of madness, you think he might lean down and lick your neck clean.

At the prospect of those plush lips and the burn of his silvered, patchy beard on your skin, your head tilts further back invitingly. His pupils dilate and his nostrils flare, like he’s picking up on what you’re thinking, and his eyes dip to your mouth.

But he doesn’t.

You don’t even have time to be disappointed before Joel carefully gets down on one knee in front of you, one palm landing on the mattress next to your hip for balance. Knowing the state of his joints, you want to ask if he needs a pillow, but instead of your mouth, it’s your thighs that part to make room for him. His chest keeps them splayed open, and you can feel the steady rise and fall of his ribcage with each breath through the denim.

You try to focus on your own breathing as Joel presses the wet towel to your skin and mops up the sticky mess, his face set seriously as he cleans you up inch by inch. But all you can think about is how you can feel the imprint of his fingers through the thin fabric, and how the span of his hand can easily fit over the column of your throat -

You don’t realise you’re leaning into him until he draws back when he’s done, and you tip forward, chasing his touch. His knee groans as he stands up to his full height, and he nods towards the bathroom with a wait here in his eyes.

The water is scalding as Joel washes out the frosting from the towel, but he keeps his hands under the tap, longer than he needs to. Wringing it dry, he takes a moment, wet palms gripping the cold porcelain edge of the bathroom sink, shoulders hunched over as he tells himself to calm the fuck down.

Except, he is calm. He’s held back, even when you looked at him with such straightforward, honest want that has him grinding his teeth.

Thing is, he knows you would’ve let him nudge you backwards into the mattress and crowd you between his arms, switching places the two of you were in under your sewing desk in the workshop.

He knows you would’ve let him wrap your legs around his hips, sliding his palms up the back of your thighs in those skin tight jeans - the sight of which is enough to make his head spin - and he knows you would’ve let him nip, suck, lick the tangy buttercream off your very neck.

Not only would you have let him - you would’ve trusted him to do all those things to you.

That last realisation awakens something he’s not so sure he has a handle on. But he knows for a fact that with the whole of Jackson milling about downstairs, in the middle of his brother’s baby shower, is neither the place nor the time.

You’re where he left you when he steps back into the bedroom, your palms planted on the bed, your shoulders relaxed. The neckline of your blouse gapes loosely, teasing the soft skin of your cleavage.

Joel breaks the loaded silence with a bit of common sense. ‘You best get that top off and soak it in the bath before the stains really set in, sweetheart.’

You bite your lip hesitantly. ‘I - I don’t have anything to change into.’

‘You can have my shirt,’ he offers.

You sit up, attention piqued, when his hands move to the top of his flannel, thick fingers sliding each button out of the holes one by one. You know he’s just taking off his shirt, but you can’t help the way your jaw goes slack, watching shamelessly, the comforter twisting in your grip as you scrabble for something to hold onto.

Joel doesn’t understand why you’re looking at him like that, but it’s so flattering to watch you watch him, eyes hooded and your tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip, like he’s giving you a fucking strip tease or something.

Goddamn if it doesn’t go straight to his head.

A white undervest comes into view, inch by inch, as the shirt falls open, the thin fabric pulled taut at the seams over the broad stretch of his chest. When the last button is undone, he shrugs the shirt off with a smooth roll of his arms, and your jaw drops.

The undervest barely contains the bulk of him, and you’ll be damned if you know where to look first - the lean, solid line of his arms, or the effortless ripple of muscle in his shoulders - but it’s lower where your attention makes landing, and it takes you a second to realise why.

He’s not sucking in his tummy.

The swell of his abdomen sits above the top of his jeans, where the vest is neatly tucked in. You remember too well the brush of that soft strip of skin against the back of your hands when you were on your knees, cutting him out of his jeans; and then beneath you, straddling him under the sewing table.

While there’s an undercurrent of self-consciousness in the way he holds himself, conspicuously missing is the self-deprecation that drew your ire the day he walked into your shop with a broken zipper. A tentative confidence has taken its place, which is at the same time so endearingly vulnerable, as if your reaction to the little show he gave you just now isn’t enough to assure him of what you’re thinking.

Or maybe, the calling southwards will win out. You’ll push him back to make room for yourself at his feet, nudging your way down his front with your nose, breathe him in, your hands finding his belt buckle and tugging it out of the loops instead. Never mind you've lost count of how many years it's been since you've wanted to do that, or if you remember how at all -

‘Pin.’

‘Get changed, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.’

Leaving your top to soak in the sink, you pad back into the bedroom in just your bra, and you stare down at his shirt laid out neatly on top of the bed.

You press your palm over where his heart would be, the flannel still warm. For one indulgent moment, you pick up the shirt and hug it to you. It smells like him - the outdoors, a crisp spring day, with a whiff of the barbeque smoke from downstairs. You bury your nose into the soft fabric, eyes closed, imagining the weight and shape of him in it.

Even as you put your arms through the sleeves to button it up, you already know it will be hard giving it back. You leave the last three buttons undone and you’ve just tied up the too-long ends in a double knot when there’s a polite but firm knock on the door.

‘You decent?’

‘Yes.’

You hope your face doesn’t fall too obviously at the sight of Joel wearing a shirt again, probably one borrowed from Tommy. He leaves it unbuttoned though, which is small consolation. The air hums between you with stolen glances and words unsaid.

‘You wore those jeans for me,’ he says suddenly.

The for me rolls off his tongue coated in his delectable Southern drawl and a heady satisfaction.

You decide to be brave and shrug one shoulder in a show of attitude. ‘It was the only thing I didn’t have in the wash.’

His grin makes your heart swell. Stepping out of the open doorway, his eyes trailing heat where they linger over you, he says, ‘You look good in my shirt, sweetheart. Real good.’

You bite your lower lip at the compliment, replying shyly, ‘I like this look on you too.’

‘Used to be Tommy’s uniform during our contractor days,’ he reminiscences. ‘I’m just missing the utility belt.’

Oh. You actually find it offensive that the fleeting mention of something as banal as a utility belt should get you going like this. You try to palm off a non-committal hum, but your body betrays you with a strangled choking sound that gives you away.

Your cheeks grow hot as both his palms latch boldly onto your hips, and you swear you can feel the burn of his fingertips through the denim, a moan gargling in your throat as your ability to form words abandons you.

‘That a yes?’ he prompts, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops in your jeans and tugging your body flush against his, his stubbled chin brushing the sensitive crook of your neck as he speaks into your ear.

‘Joel,’ you whine, which is the best you can do right now, grabbing onto the open flaps of his shirt just to stay upright.

You feel the rumble that goes through his chest under your palms when he purrs, smiling down at you, head cocked to one side with a playful condescension that’s going to be the end of you. ‘Yes, Pin?’

Your mouth opens, but you’ll never get to find out what you intended to say, because you hear it first - his right ear is to the door - the thunder of rubber soles on the stairs, and you're lucky you manage to stumble two steps back before a deafening (no pun intended), drawn-out call of his name follows.

‘JOOOOOOELLLL!’

Ellie crashes into the doorway with all the grace of a bull in a china shop, slightly out of breath like she’s been running all over the place searching for him, already in the middle of a sentence, as usual.

‘- also Maria says they’re doing a speech now and you’re not getting out of -’ she breaks off abruptly when she spots you, eyes wide and brows - all one and a half of them - reaching for her hairline. ‘Oh shiiiiiit.’

Running a tired hand down his face, Joel’s sigh sounds a lot like surrender. ‘Ellie, this is Pin. Pin, I’m sorry.’

You bite your lip to hold back a laugh at the resignation in his tone as the teenager wrinkles her nose. ‘Pin? That’s a weird name.’

‘Ellie!’

You smile. ‘It’s ok. Pin's just my nickname. I’m a seamstress at the Main Street Outfitters.’

Her face lights up excitedly, an open book if you’ve ever seen one. ‘No shit! I’ve been bugging Joel for a leather jacket for ages. Can I get one?’

‘Please,’ he interjects.

Ellie tucks in her chin and juts out her bottom lip at you. ‘Please?’

You demur. ‘Well, it depends on what you can trade in for it.’

‘My boombox!’ she volunteers without skipping a beat.

Joel scoffs. ‘Good to know those three weeks fixing that piece of junk for you was time well spent.'

‘Sorry, man, but I can’t wear a boombox can I?’ she argues.

Giving Joel an amused look, you come to his rescue. ‘I’m sorry, Ellie, but we only take clothes in exchange.’ At the way she deflates, you counteroffer, ‘Or, you can come work at the shop on Saturdays for the next couple of months. Lucy always needs help out front, and you get a staff discount.’

He turns to you, protesting, ‘That’s very kind, but it ain’t necessary -’

Ellie cuts in, rushing up to you to shake your hand before you can take it back. ‘Deal! When can I start?’

‘There’s no rush,’ you reply with a chuckle. ‘I’ll get back to you next week.’

Stepping back, Ellie winks, ‘So - let’s put a pin in it for now?’

Joel groans at the terrible pun. ‘Get outta here!’

She cackles, firing triumphant finger guns at you as she retreats. ‘What? Pin liked it, she laughed! You’re no fun old man!’

She then pauses by the door, her eyes narrowing as she zeroes in on something smeared on your jeans. ‘Wait - what’s that white stuff on your leg?’

‘It’s cream cheese, you little shit!’ Joel snaps as your ears burn in embarrassment. ‘Out!’

She scampers out of sight, but then reverses into view, sneakers squeaking. ‘ - Are you wearing Joel’s shirt?’

‘ELLIE!’

She throws her hands up. ‘Alright, I’m gone, I’m gone! See ya Pin!’

Joel is the very picture of an embarrassed dad, rubbing the back of his neck with a wince. ‘Sorry, she’s a handful.’

You grin, ‘She’s just a teenager.’

‘You can say that again.’

The quiet seems louder after Ellie, and you restlessly pick at the sleeves. Lifting your eyes shyly, it seems the moment has passed - but Joel has other ideas.

‘C’mere,’ he hums, drawing you close again with one hand on your waist, peering down at you through his lashes. ‘This ok?’

At your nod, he brushes his thumb on your bottom lip, catching the soft plump skin, and your tongue darts out to taste him, his eyes darkening.

‘Can I kiss you, sweetheart?’ he asks, voice hoarse.

It’s been years. Years since anyone has cared enough to kiss you, let alone cared enough to ask if they could. And it’s as if he knows - you don’t know if you’ve somehow given it away, or maybe it’s just him.

‘Yes, Joel.’

He coaxes you closer so that you’re pressed along the whole length of him. His big palms are warm and solid on the small of your back, holding you to him like he intends for you to have trouble standing after he’s done with you.

The tip of his nose bumps into your cheek, nudging its way across and down, and your eyes slide shut when his shaky exhale grazes your gently parted mouth. Your breath hitches at the sweet burn of his beard on your jaw, fingers grabbing onto the scruff of his neck when he finally, finally brushes his lips against yours.

For a man as hardened as Joel Miller, he sure kisses soft. He steals a whimper straight from your throat with nothing more than the clever angling of his lips, the slow drag of tongue on tongue, and a growl deep in his windpipe that you answer with your own moan.

‘Sorry,’ you squeak, beaming despite yourself.

‘You really know how to flatter a guy, sweetheart,’ he answers, his voice warming you like a smokey campfire, steadying by his hands on your hips.

‘We should probably go before Ellie comes back for us,’ you say reluctantly.

Joel huffs, ‘Ain’t gonna hear the end of it if she does.’

‘Something tells me you won’t be hearing the end of it tonight anyway,’ you tease.

He chucks you gently under the chin, his eyes soft. ‘Let’s go, sweetheart.’

‘You’ve made yourself scarce,’ remarks Lucy as she ambles up to you with a glass of wine running low. ‘Where you been, hon?’

‘Had some trouble with the cake,’ you answer vaguely.

‘Sure,’ she winks at you, unconvinced. ‘If we’re calling him that.’

Right on cue, Joel strides across the lawn with three plates to join you. ‘Thought you might want some of Pin’s carrot cake.’

‘Such a gentleman, Joel Miller,’ chirps Lucy, making what can only be described as a 'thirst face' at you when his back is turned to her.

‘Thanks, Joel,’ you smile at him, letting your fingers graze his deliberately when you take the plate from him.

Saluting you with a forkful of cake, he says, ‘Thank you for bakin’, sweetheart.’

You watch as his lips close around the fork, dragging the cake clean off the slots, cream cheese smearing the corner of his mouth. He frowns, as if in deep pain as he chews, Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows.

‘Okay?’ you ask nervously, your slice still untouched.

‘Perfect,’ he declares, already having a second, bigger bite. Knowing he doesn’t have a superfluous bone in his body, your chest warms at his words.

‘Wait a second,’ Lucy interrupts, bringing up her plate to inspect it closely. ‘Why does the cake look all wonky?’

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about, Luce,’ you answer coolly, taking a bite yourself.

Humming around a mouthful of moist crumb, the sweet carrot balanced out by the tangy frosting, you meet Joel’s eyes in the soft glow of fairy lights, and he flashes you a conspiratorial smile that makes you grin.

More notes: On Ellie - I was so so nervous about writing our resident teenage badass. I hope I've done her justice, I certainly had a lot of fun writing her introduction to Pin! If you're interested in a detailed deep dive into my process writing this chapter, I do recommend you read the Behind the Seams for this part ❤️

I also went back and forth on the tone and style of this chapter a lot. I wasn’t happy with the way it read, probably still not 100% happy. I like the way Seams and Threads were written better, but the fact is that this chapter is a very different setting and narrative compared to the first two, so I’m trying to be too hard on myself.

So, I have some ideas for where the story will go from here, but nothing concrete. As I've mentioned, I see this fic as more of a loose-fit series, so there's no overarching plot per se, but there's definitely a lot of room for future episodes of these two - I mean, they haven't even done the deed yet 😉

Comments, asks and reblogs are greatly appreciated as always! Thank you so much for reading, I'm so excited to hear what you guys thought of this chapter 😘

#fuckyeahseams #seams iii #joel miller x reader #joel miller

2K notes · View notes

guess-my-next-obsession · 2 years ago

Text

Plastic Hearts

Chapter Four: Hate Me

pairing: dieter bravo x actress!oc (violet)

chapter rating: E (no explicit smut, just tiddies out and penis talk, mentions of insecurity, body image issues, substance use, arguments, angsty ending bc these two are sad bbs)

word count: 4.7k

series masterlist

“Good Morning America, we are back from commercial break with the absolutely stunning Violet Apollo.” The all-too cherry news anchor smiled widely at Violet as she sat across from her and her co-anchor. “How are you doing this morning, Violet? I know you must’ve had a wild night last night after your partner hosted Saturday Night Live.”

“Wasn’t too wild, thankfully. I was back in my bed before midnight, so I’m feeling pretty okay today. I downed a few shots of espresso and now I couldn’t close my eyes if I wanted to.” Violet joked, intentionally leaving out the part where she was woken up in the middle of the night to her “boyfriend” getting sucked off by a model right in front of her.

“Look at you being responsible,” the man playfully teased and she faked a laugh at that. “How about Dieter? He had a lot to celebrate, I bet he’s feeling it today.”

“Uh, yeah. He’s still asleep back at the hotel.” Violet tried not to sound bitter, but she knew that a crack was beginning to form in the carefully crafted mask she’d been wearing her entire career—and all from one little heartbreak. “He was so good on SNL last night, can we give him a moment? So good.”

“He was! I didn’t know he was that funny, he’s always so serious.”

“Yeah, is he always that funny around you? Is that one of the things that drew you to him?” The female anchor asked with a head tilt, Violet feeling the urge to scream building inside of her with every mention of Dieter. But this was a part of the job and she was gonna fucking do it.

“He does alright,” she chuckled and shrugged. “I’m definitely more of the comedian, I’d say. But truthfully, we’re both just talkers. I think that’s what makes us so good together. We love talking to each other.”

“You know what they say, communication is key.” The man chimed in with a winning smile before looking down at his notes. “Alright, enough about boys—” Cringe. “Let’s talk your new film.”

“Yes, let’s.” Violet nodded and gave them both a more genuine smile, glad to be off the subject of Dieter for a bit.

“Violet stars in Steven Spielberg’s new epic based on the ancient Greek love story of Persephone and Hades, titled: Pomegranate. Violet, you play Persephone in the film alongside Thomas Doherty as Hades. What was it like embodying a character like that?”

“I’ve always loved Persephone and have found the many iterations of their love story captivating long before I ever took on this role, but stepping into her shoes a bit, it sort of just felt like I was playing myself in a way.” Violet shrugged and smiled bashfully. “She’s sort of this tragic yet fierce character that I think a lot of the time is sort of underestimated and misunderstood and seen as someone almost needing to be saved from this underworld, but, at least in the film and in my own idea of her, it couldn’t be further from the truth. She’s an incredibly strong and fierce woman and I think the audience is going to love seeing that portrayed on screen, or at least I hope they do.”

“How was it working with Thomas? I saw him in The Invitation and fell head over heels in love with him,” the woman confessed, earning a chuckle from Violet.

“He’s so sweet and kind, and very good looking, obviously. He was just the absolute best scene partner, and neither of us have worked with someone as big as Spielberg before, so it was nice to sort of go through that experience together.”

“Well, we can’t wait to see it. Thank you for stopping by, Violet, we loved having you here this morning.” Violet nodded and gave them her best smiles, mumbling a shy ‘thank you’. “When we come back—is it possible your dog sees you as it’s parent? A new study shows it’s more likely than you might think. More when we return.”

“Alright, thank you both so much for having me.” Violet shook both of the news anchors hands before being rushed off backstage by her manager, Maria. “Did you get breakfast?”

“Yeah, it’s waiting in your dressing room.”

“I meant for yourself! You’ve been running around all morning, I haven’t even seen you stop to get a coffee.” Violet eyed the older woman, the bags under her eyes, the stress weighing down her shoulders. She tried not to ask for much or weigh her down any further with any demands or unnecessary drama, but it didn’t matter. The woman was a non-stop workaholic.

“I’m fine,” she assured with a smile, opening Violet’s dressing room for her and following her in. Violet got right to work eating her fast food breakfast, not caring about calories or nutrition as she enjoyed her McGriddle. “So how did last night go?”

“It went,” Violet spoke in a dry tone, rolling her eyes. “Dieter had a great show and a good night, that’s all that matters, right?”

“You matter too,” Maria interjected with a maternal look of concern. “Look, I appreciate how drama-free you are as a client, but as a person—you’ve gotta learn to stand up for yourself. For the way you feel.”

“I stood up for myself, I promise. Now, no more lectures or talking about Dieter. I just wanna eat my McDonalds in peace before I go back to the hotel. Okay?” Violet gave her a pleading look, Maria nodding and letting it go, choosing to scroll through her emails for the remainder of Violet’s breakfast before walking her out to the car waiting for her and seeing her off for the day.

To say that Dieter Bravo lived rent free in her mind would be an understatement. Dieter owned it—wrecked it. All that she could think about was him and his stupid fucking penis and what he was doing with it and why it wasn’t her he’d been doing it with.

It should’ve disgusted her, seeing Dieter with another woman, the way his hands stroked over her hair as she sat on her knees for him, but when she replayed the scene in her head, it was almost as though the other woman was never there to begin with.

All she could imagine was herself down on the ground in front of him, pleasing him, taking everything he had to give, hearing him moan her name just like he had on accident. That one little sentence had been lodged inside her fucking ears, replaying all morning as she tried to tune it out.

Oh fuck, Violet. Over and over. Nonstop. The cracked moan of her name punctuating the sentence she never thought she’d get to hear.

Violet knew that sex with Dieter should be off the table, scrapped completely and burned, and yet, she was still just a woman. She had needs—deep, longing, shameful needs—and the more she thought about his girth, his length, the fat tip of his cock, the way it curved up like it was designed to please, the harder it was to keep those needs at bay.

Perhaps there was a way that she could get what she wanted while not having to deal with her lack of trust for the dude. They could fuck sometimes the same way that they kiss sometimes, when one of them needed it, the other provided a friendly service, no strings attached. But every time she played out the fantasy in her mind, she could feel her imaginary self slipping up, forgetting her place, falling for a man unable to love her the way she craved. The sex could never be worth the ache of his rejection—so, celibacy it was.

For now.

•••

Dieter woke up with a startle as polite knocks sounded on the door to the fake couple’s penthouse suite, his head throbbing with each thud on the wood. He groaned as though he was an ancient vampire forced into daylight after centuries of rest, rubbing his temples and reaching for his sunglasses as he stood upright. He swayed a bit, still drunk and high, but carried himself forward, knowing that if he didn’t stop the housekeepers from entering, they’d do it on their own accord.

Dieter swallowed the vomit creeping up his esophagus before cracking the door open and sticking his face in it, hardly able to make out the housekeeper’s face through his own turmoil. “Please…no more knocking…I’m begging you.”

“W-would you like me to change the linens or leave them at the door, sir?” The woman seemed to recognize him, her eyes looking everywhere but directly at him. Dieter usually thought it was pretty funny to see people try to play off their starstruck panic, but today it only irritated him.

“Just—“ He stopped himself from speaking as the first word came out too harsh. No need to fuck her day up just because he was having a hard time. Dieter accepted the new linens and set them down on the bench right inside the entryway, reaching into the pocket of his robe and grabbing his wallet, flicking through smaller bills to find a hundred dollar bill and handing it over to her. “Thanks.”

“No, thank you, sir,” she gave him a grateful smile but he couldn’t be bothered to show any more kindness than he already had. Dieter closed the door on her and slugged his way over to the sofa, plopping down too hard, reigniting his headache.

Dieter sat facing Violet’s closed bedroom door, stuck in a daze as he thought back to the night before. He had no idea that she was standing there, watching him, but to say that it hadn’t been his inebriated intention for her to find them would be a lie. Of course he knew better than to get his dick sucked in their common space, the lewd sounds registering in his mind the entire time as too loud, but perhaps a part of him wanted her to see. Wanted to see that he was desirable.

Now, the name slip—that hadn’t been planned.

Overwhelmed by his regrets and the desire that still lingered inside of him, he pulled out his phone and ordered way too much takeout—pizza, Chinese, a bit of sushi, way too many fucking cookies from his favorite spot in the city—hoping that if he indulged himself enough, the itch to add her to the list would go away.

But just to be sure, Dieter pulled out his stash and went to town, smoking bowl after bowl, joint after joint, until he’d reached the ceiling of how high he could get.

…And then he reached for the decanter of whiskey in the kitchen. Just to be sure.

•••

It was around noon when Violet finally willed herself to stop stalling at Sephora, binge shopping her emotions away. Carrying two of the largest black and white striped bags she’d ever seen, she unlocked the door to the suite and was immediately hit with the smell of weed and takeout.

“Jesus,” she whispered as she spotted Dieter passed out on the sectional, a cup of whiskey in one hand and a piece of pizza on his bare stomach. “Dieter?”

She was surprised he didn’t wake up at the sound of his name being called, her voice far from quiet. “Dieter? Hello? Are you fucking alive?”

Still, no movement from the actor. In a last bid attempt at waking him without having to go over and touch him, Violet walked over to her bedroom door, opening it before slamming it closed again.

Dieter sprang to life, breathing in a quick inhale through his nose as he looked over the rim of his sunglasses at her. Violet stood with a disappointed look on her face, arms crossed over her chest.

“Could you slam it any louder? I’m not sure they heard you in Brooklyn.” Dieter grumbled as his headache set back in, the high now only making him exhausted. He peeled the piece of pizza off his stomach and slapped it down on top of the box, eyes remaining in a squint even with his sunglasses shielding most of the light.

“This is disgusting, Dieter.” Violet felt obligated to help sort this mess out—literally, at least. With a suck of her teeth, she set down her bags and walked into the kitchen, pulling out a black trash bag and carrying it over to the living room.

“You don’t have to clean up my mess,” Dieter sighed and reached for the bag but she withheld it, this stern, almost warning glare on her face the entire time. Dieter watched as she shoved the pizza box into the bag last, tying it up and leaving it by the door.

Surprisingly, Violet didn’t stop there. No, she needed it to be spotless.

“You gonna talk or just pretend like nothing happened?” Dieter probed as Violet wiped down the coffee table with disinfectant wipes, the smell of citrus slowly replacing the smell of weed and marinera sauce. When he was met with no response, he chuckled and shook his head. “Look, I’ll start. I shouldn’t have been doing that in our common area—“

“Can you lift that?” She pointed to a book on the coffee table, her hand holding the wipe waiting next to it. Dieter scoffed as he lifted the book, Violet wiping over it a few times before he set it back down again.

“Violet, I’m trying to apologize,” he reasoned, eyes glued to her every feature to try and get a read on her but she was too fucking good at hiding behind a mask.

“You don’t need to apologize, Dieter. Shit happens.” Violet tossed the used wipes into the trash bag before grabbing one of his joints and leaving him alone to go smoke on the balcony. Dieter didn’t last long before he got up and walked outside to join her, the sound of the glass door sliding open making Violet groan. “Dieter, I’m begging—“

“I shouldn’t have fucked someone else—“ Violet quirked an eyebrow at him, causing him to panic and blurt out an unplanned second half of the sentence. “…in our common area.”

“Right. Whatever. Fuck who you want, where you want, Dieter.” Violet chuckled, rolling her eyes as she handed the joint over to him. “I’m going out.”

“Or you could stay and we could talk about things. I once had an overpriced therapist tell me that’s important in relationships!” Dieter called out but Violet pretended not to hear him, simply grabbing her purse and leaving the suite without another word. Dieter let his eyes close as the door thumped closed, sighing as he stood alone on the balcony with a half-smoked joint in hand. “Way to fucking go, Bravo.”

•••

“So…Dieter Bravo, huh?” Sam, one of Violet’s childhood friends and current broadway actress sat on the opposite side of her sofa, Violet groaning at the mention of the man she was attempting to avoid. “How the hell’d that happen?”

“It’s not…not for real,” she confessed, knowing that if there were only one person in this world she could trust, it would be Sam. “Just until my movie comes out and his reputation is salvaged.”

“That’s Hollywood, baby!” Sam chuckled as she stood up and walked into her kitchen, the small studio layout allowing Violet to continue the conversation.

“Sometimes I feel like I should’ve never left New York. Should’ve stayed here and did theater with you. Maybe then I’d be happier—“

“You’re not sad because of where you live, babe. You’re sad because of how you’re living.” She brought back two glasses of wine, handing one to Violet before sitting down. “At some point you’re going to break, and this pretty little mask you’ve made for yourself is gonna crack. It’s too much pressure for a person to pretend to be as perfect as you try to be constantly.”

“Yes,” she sighed, chuckling at her own problems. “It’s fucking exhausting. Every single part of it. And what fucking sucks is that for the first time in so fucking long, I started to feel like maybe someone understood me. And then I woke up to the fucker getting head in the kitchen.”

“What?” She gasped and nearly choked on her wine, placing her hand over her heart. “You didn’t tell me about that!”

“Yeah, I’ve been actively trying to avoid talking about myself, Samantha.” Violet chuckled and shrugged, looking off to the side as she tried to word herself right. “I have feelings for Dieter fucking Bravo. I can admit that to you because I know you won’t judge me.”

“I’m more so curious as to what’s drawing you in? I mean, a handsome face only goes so far.”

“Exactly! That’s—yes!” Violet shouted enthusiastically, laughing at her theatrics as she stood up with her wine glass in hand. “He’s a fucking little raccoon of a man and I want to fuck him so bad. None of it makes sense. The fucker is nice to me sometimes. That’s it. No other redeemable qualities besides his dick.”

“Is it nice?” Sam asked, raising her eyebrows with a grin. Violet groaned loudly and flopped back down onto the sofa.

“So nice. It’s huge. Although, that doesn’t necessarily mean it’ll be good, right?” Violet asked with a bit of hopefulness in her tone, earning another laugh from her friend.

“Right. It could be huge and mouthwatering and absolutely terrible at pleasing you. That’s totally possible.” Violet squinted at her as Sam weighed her head to the side and took a sip of her wine. “Or it could be the best dick you’ll ever have.”

“Fuck you. No. Definitely not.” Violet frowned as she faced forward, her mind now filled with images of his cock coming all over the tile of their kitchen floor. “Well—maybe.”

•••

“Hey,” Dieter practically jumped onto his feet as Violet walked into the suite around 8 p.m., a timid smile on his face as he eyed her carefully.

“‘Sup,” Violet nodded her head at him casually as she grabbed the untouched shopping bags from Sephora and carried them into her room without another word.

“Sup?” Dieter repeated with an irritated scrunch of his face, looking around the room at nobody with his palms up in disbelief. “Fuck it. She’s done, then so am I.”

Dieter had longed to take a line of the powdery white substance sitting in his coat pocket all day long, but out of desire to be better for her, he’d refrained. But now that it was as clear as day that Violet was through with even engaging with him as an acquaintance, he had nothing to abstain for.

Walking into his bedroom, he let the door slam as he reached into his coat pocket and set out three neat lines for himself in the bathroom, taking in a deep breath before snorting them off the countertop.

It didn’t take long for Dieter’s pity party to turn into an actual party—of one.

Dieter spun around in his bedroom to Madonna’s hit single, “Express Yourself”, the song blaring on the hotel’s impressive speaker system. Dieter was as high as a kite, holding a glass of whiskey in one hand that was surely spilling everywhere but he didn’t care.

“Come on, girls! Do you believe in love? 'Cause I've got something to say about it. And it goes something like this,” Dieter shouted along to the intro, twirling around the room, using the belt to his robe as a boa of sorts. “Don't go for second best, baby. Put your love to the test. You know, you know you've got to make him express how he feels and maybe then you'll know your love is real.”

Violet was drunk when she got back to the hotel, Dieter’s attempt at conversation squashed immediately over the simple fact that she couldn’t form a coherent sentence.

She tried to take her mind off both her drunken state and her desire to weep by smoking a little bit more and practicing some of the yoga she once made a resolution to do every single day but hadn’t attempted since the second week of January.

Starting off slow, she tried to tap into her spirituality, or what little remained of it, taking mindful breaths, trying to tune out the blaring 90’s pop from the other side of the suite. All her efforts to find peace and meditation were futile, Dieter’s pitchy singing now doubling the volume of the music.

Violet let out a deep, guttural groan at his antics, the mask slipping finally and exposing the tangled web of emotions beneath it. With a huff and a determined stare, Violet left her bedroom and stomped over to his, pounding on the door.

“Bravo!” She called over the blaring music, fist beating on the door until it opened.

Dieter stood there with a wide grin, his sunglasses tipped low on his nose. He was wearing just a pair of boxers underneath his fluffy, brown coat. Seeing him so at ease ignited something inside her—anger seemed too soft of a word to use for the way her skin burned with irritation, both at him and herself.

“Hi—“

“You are the most selfish, insufferable, dirty little man I have ever had the punishment of having to be around! All you do is think of yourself and do whatever you want, not giving a shit about anybody else! I wish I could properly articulate how fucking irritating you are, Dieter!” Violet screamed over “Groove Is In The Heart”, Dieter staring blankly at her with parted lips and glassy eyes. “God, and you just stand there and look so fucking stupid! Are you even fucking listening?”

“Yeah—“

“Ugh, I hate your smug little fucking voice and—“ She eyed him up, her anger quickly beginning to feel like arousal as she scanned the exposed skin of his torso, or perhaps her self-control had just snapped completely and she was now fully at the mercy of every one of her irresponsible desires. “Fuck it.”

Dieter grunted as Violet’s body clashed with his, her lips kissing his searingly as she walked him backwards to the armchair in the corner of his bedroom. Her tongue battled with his for dominance as she straddled his lap, Dieter’s hands frozen in place as his brain short-circuited.

“God, you’re so fucking frustrating. Just touch me,” Violet grabbed his hands and placed them on her hips, Dieter’s grip tightening as he forced himself of his disbelief and back into the moment.

Violet Apollo was sitting on his lap, kissing him, biting him, moaning for him. No matter how many times he imagined his first time with her, he never imagined her so…animalistic.

He always figured she’d be soft, gentle, romantic, but here she was tugging on his lip so hard he was whimpering for her, her hips grinding down against his lap. When she took her top off, unhooked her bra and revealed herself to him, he swore he’d reached heaven—but of course, something had to ruin it.

“Uh,” Violet ran her hand over his lap and furrowed her brows, not feeling anything hard at all no matter how hard she searched.

She’d seen his cock, if it was hard, she wouldn’t have even needed to reach for it to know it was there.

“Well that’s humbling,” she chuckled at herself and quickly scrambled off his lap, avoiding his eyes as she gathered her bra and top before rushing out of the room.

Violet couldn’t help but feel sickeningly embarrassed, quickly turning the lock on her bedroom door before she rushed into the shower still in her skirt and tights. The hot water rained down on her as she sobbed on the floor, her knees tucked close to her chest.

She’d finally put herself out there, exposing more of herself to him than she ever thought she would. And he couldn’t have been less into it, apparently.

Althroughout her childhood, adolescence, and even early adulthood, Violet struggled with the extra plushness she carried around her stomach—so much so that it wasn’t until she was twenty-three that she allowed a partner to see her naked with the lights on.

Violet knew it wasn’t Dieter’s fault that he wasn’t attracted to her, and she tried to reason with herself that he had every right to like the supermodel build rather than her curvy one, but no matter how many times she repeated it in her head, she couldn’t help the sting in her heart from the rejection.

Perhaps she read it all wrong between them, and all the kisses and flirting and long conversations were simply just something to do for him. Something to keep him from getting bored. Or, more depressing, maybe he was only attracted to her with her clothes on? Perhaps he hadn’t realized how curvy she was, and now that he’d seen it, he changed his mind?

Quickly shaking her head to clear her mind of her intrusive thoughts, she took a shaky but deep breath, gathering her composure. She stood up and peeled off her wet clothes, letting them slap against the floor of the shower before carrying on like normal, washing her hair and shaving her legs like nothing had ever happened at all. The mask was back on, and after tonight, it would likely never come off again.

•••

Dieter was left frozen and speechless, staying still long after he’d watched her run off to her bedroom and lock the door behind her, the sound of his 90’s dance playlist blaring in the background mostly washing away her sobs, but he could still hear them clear enough to ache for her.

Never in his life had he not been able to get it up. No matter the amount he had to drink, the amount of substances in his system, nothing had ever prevented him from performing. So why now?

He knew the answer, and god, did he wish he was simply just an old man with erectile dysfunction. His life would be a whole lot easier if that was the case, but of course, it wasn’t.

Dieter knew that the reason he couldn’t get hard for her was because he was panicking. Panicking because it was finally happening for them. Panicking because he was high during it. Panicking because he wasn’t ready like he wanted to be for her when they finally crossed that line. Panicking because he didn’t want to lose her over something as fucking silly as sex.

A part of him wanted to go over and apologize, try to explain himself to her, but the thought of confessing even a single one of those fears to her made him freeze all over again. He couldn’t open up, at least not now, not in this state of mind.

Dieter sat there, staring blankly ahead through his opened door and at her closed one, his music still playing, his body not having moved an inch, wondering why the fuck he couldn’t just be easy to love like everyone else seemed to be. He craved destruction too much, and feared anything too good to be true, preferring to ruin it before it could ruin him.

He’d gone so long without having to face the reality of his brokenness, but never in his life had he longed to love someone properly like this. It consumed him—his inadequacy mixing with his yearning. He wanted her, but every time he looked into her pretty brown eyes, he could only see all the reasons he shouldn’t have her.

In an act of determination, and a rare show of self-care and responsibility, Dieter reached for his phone and searched through his contacts until he found the number to his old therapist, the only one that he felt treated him like a human rather than a star.

DB: Need to make an appointment. I think I’m getting bad again.

Dr. Bradford: Hello, Dieter. I’m glad you reached out. Let’s set up a call tomorrow afternoon and you can tell me more about it.

DB: Sounds good, doc.

DB: Do I need to be sober?

Dr. Bradford: Yes, Dieter. Have a good night.

DB: Fine.

Even if he wasn’t good enough for her right now, it didn’t mean it needed to stay that way. And until he got better, Dieter vowed to try and salvage his friendship with her. Starting in the morning.

Right now he needed to cry in the shower to some Whitney Houston.

•••

dieter taglist: @browneyes-issac @wildemaven @laureliciousdefinition @trinkets01 @paulalikestuff @toomanystoriessolittletime @alwayslurkinginthebackground @pastelnap @fishingforpike @littlemisspascal @pedropascalsx (please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist!)

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #dieter bravo series #dieter bravo bubble #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo angst #dieter bravo fluff #dieter bravo x oc #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo #plastic hearts

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zorosq · 3 years ago

Text

no more ; portgas d. ace

↻ pure angst, mention of death, mention of blood, ace is depressed, cussing, grammatical error

↻ pairing ↬ ace x gn!reader!

@sarahhhh-h asked: hello maira!! how was your day? keep smiling okayyy!

em.... are you accepting requests at this time? can i request a story where ace is sad over his s/o's death?

Well, I don't really like being sad, but for some reason I really like Angst's stories 😔

... and have a good day and always be happy, my love💓🔥

a/n we’re opposites then 😭 i fkg hate angst but i do love hurting people sometimes- damn thats kinda evil ngl... but i hope you have a very nice day! i just had a breakdown last night but thank you for asking <3 idk if this is angsty enough but happy reading

this sets before ace left to find bb btw

his eyes widened as he saw your body falling to the ground with a loud thud. the blood that covers almost all over your body ― it was your blood. he ran as fast as he could, pulling your lifeless body in his arms. “no, no, no... baby, please... wake up,” he whimpered.

“ace, we gotta go! let’s go now!” the 1st division commander said. but he wouldn’t move an inch. marco grits his teeth, also feeling the pain from your lost. “i’m sorry, y/n,” he said before grabbing ace by the arm and pulling him away from your body by force.

his gaze never leaving the sky while reminiscing the memories he had made with you. your smile, your laugh, your voice and your face. would he still be able to remember it all?

do you hate him for leaving your body behind? all of his questions were left unanswered. why was it? you weren’t there anymore to answer him all these questions.

he still had a lot to tell you. why did you have to go so early? you still had a lot to discover together with ace. so why did you leave him?

he continued on and on with all these millions of questions that is left unanswered. blaming himself back and forth. he wanted to hear for one last time.

but you weren’t there.

he never stepped into your room anymore after your death ― and your death still sounded odd to his ears. you were really gone. usually, you would’ve been here beside him, gazing at the stars together.

your absence was like a void in his heart. your smile always made him smile. your happiness was like his happiness. when you’re sad, he followed suit. but now that you’re not here, his emotions were a mess.

every time someone called for him to go eat, he snapped at them. it’s not like he didn’t actually eat, he did of course. he just didn’t know how to control his feelings anymore.

he wanted to scream, blame someone for your death. his heart just aches every night that he cried out for you. he wanted to cradle your body again ― tell you how sorry he was for doing a poor job at protecting you and also for leaving you behind.

but all these blames don’t matter, do they? you are no more.

#one piece #one piece scenario #one piece fandom #one piece fanfiction #ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d. ace x reader #portgas d. ace #one piece angst #angst #maira hates angst but she writes it anyway

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dailyreverie · 3 years ago

Note

Hey Hun,

For your fall prompts can I get :

26.Getting caught in autumn showers - with Poe ☺️

Storm

A/N: Wow okay... this turned out a bit angsty lol. Friends to lovers to enemies to whatever this is. Thank you so much for your request!! I really hope you like it!

26. Getting caught in autumn showers

🎃 REQUEST YOUR FALL PROMPT 🍂

Pairing: Poe Dameron x reader

Word count: 1.75k

Warnings: Poe is kind of an f-boy, reader and Poe are f-buddies, a few swear words. Mentions to having sex so 18+ only please!

The sky rumbles with yet another thunder that echoes around your shelter. You can feel the sound in your chest, sending vibrations all over your limbs as it resonates through the forest that displays in front of you. It should be beautiful. Should, because it came with no warning in the middle of a mission on what seems to be the middle of nowhere, and you never expected to be soaking wet running to a cave, waiting for your Commander to get back from wherever he went to look for a more decent shelter.

Your eyes can't help but get captivated by the hypnotizing rain that extends for endless miles, with your knees against your chest and your chin resting on them, and the BB droid next to you seems to be as captivated by it as you are. The only thing that brings you both out of the rain is the movement of the bushes at the side of the cave, revealing a soaked Commander Dameron with a cape that did little to nothing to cover him from the rain.

"I'm back." He announces, shaking off the water from his hair. Yours and the droid's heads turn at him at the same time, and the comically in-sync movement makes the pilot chuckle.

"Found anything?" You ask, looking at him as he tries to get rid of the water that clings to his body.

"Nothing for miles," He states, unzipping his pilot suit. "And it started to rain even harder, I had to get back." Poe, a name that feels as private as your situation ever was, looks around the setup you had made around the cave, spotting your orange suit hanging from a rock close to the small fire you had built. "Do you mind?" His arms are already slipping out of the suit when he asks, the fabric clinging to his skin from the rain that it caught.

You can only shake your head, keeping your eyes from roaming down his arms. It is an image you are too familiar with: Poe Dameron stripping off his pilot suit in front of you, except those moments had been less cold, with less rain, and with his body way closer to you.

You wonder what made him ask this time if you mind him removing his clothes in front of you, since he has done it many times before. A thunder brings you back to reality and away from the way his back muscles glisten with rain as he removes the suit. It has also been a long time since you last were together, which is only making this situation harder than the rain outside - to you, at least.

"What even is with this rain?" Poe complains as he sits next to you, eyebrows furrowed and his eyes exploring the sky. That's a sight you can't keep your eyes away from, his curls dropping to his face and his strong jawline on display as he looks up. Such a cliche you are, hooking up with your Commander only to catch feelings for him after the nights you shared.

"This side of the planet is going through its fall." Your voice is small when you answer. "If the weather is anything like the one I had back home, I'm guessing the rain won't stop until the morning."

"So we are stuck then." He looks at you, not even with mischief or with lust, he only turns his head to you, and that's enough for your breath to catch in your throat as his brown eyes pull you into their depth. That's why you stopped the whole hook-up thing, because that was all he wanted while your feelings seemed to keep getting stronger every time you found yourself in his quarters, wrapped in his arms as he explored your body with a passion you had never experienced before.

"I guess we are." You sigh. Being stuck in a cave with Poe seemed like a bad joke from the Maker, like something you would have begged to happen just a couple of months ago, but that felt like your worst nightmare now.

Silence surrounds you for a couple of minutes, the sounds of rain soothing your nerves and letting you get lost in it again.

"I think I've never heard you talk about your home before." You both were not used to talking, that was why. Poe breaks the silence curious to hear more about you or maybe looking for an excuse to make the situation less awkward. You can only hope for the second one and hope he is at least a little bit as uncomfortable as you are.

"It feels like I left such a long time ago it barely feels like home anymore." You are aware of how sharp your words sound, not looking to expand your answer or to engage in conversation, and you wonder if he notices at all how you can't even look at him anymore. Poe is a clever guy, you assume he does.

"Do you miss it?"

"Sometimes." A shrug and a frown, that's all he gets.

He's not at fault for you catching feelings for him, of course, but he's at fault for not having those same feelings for you, for only playing around, for running away from something that could be good.

You can feel his gaze on you, feeling how his eyes are analyzing your every reaction and your every attempt at blocking him out; you try focusing on the rain, but his stare is mimicking the storm that pours right in front of you. "Why did you stop talking to me?"

You turn to look at him so fast you might get whiplash. "What?" You ask incredulously, surprised at his question.

"All those weeks ago, you just stopped talking to me." Poe's voice is calm, but his words somehow manage to pierce every fiber of your body, forming a rage under your skin.

Your feet turn you around, pulling you up to stand only to sit a few feet further into the cave. "I don't know what you mean."

"Bullshit." Poe scoffs. "There's nowhere to hide in here, don't even bother trying."

You turn back at his sarcastic voice, looking at him in disbelief. You had been hiding from him, that much is true, but you never expected him to notice, much less to care about it. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what it means." The way Poe looks at you, with a shake of his head and a total lack of control over his frustrated expression, shows you how annoyed he is. "What's your excuse now? You've got somewhere else to be? 'Cause if you haven't noticed, we are caught in a storm."

"I'm not hiding from you, Poe." You snap back at him, hoping for a better explanation of your sudden disappearance to come out from somewhere. He expects it too, you see it in the way he looks at you.

"Okay, then tell me why we are not speaking to each other anymore." Thunder crashes against the clouds at the same time he demands an answer from you, with the same intensity that your heart is hitting against your chest. Poe is not backing down, you know him, he will not let you get away without an answer.

"I can't do this right now."

"Oh, alright," He sighs, exasperated. "Seeming you are so busy right now let's just wait until you are done, maybe then I'll find out why not only my best pilot, but one of my closest friends decided to cut me out of their lives-"

"Your closest friend? I was merely a booty call for you, Poe! I was for months! And now you claim to be one of my closest friends-" The rain hitting the rock walls that surround you seems to gain intensity at the same time your argument does.

"What the hell are you-? A booty call? You were never that for me!" His eyebrows furrow in the middle, trying to make sense of your words.

"Right, because we were doing so much more than just having sex." You can't help but laugh at yourself.

"You think I only see you as a sex tool or something? I'm not an asshole, I know you have feelings and-"

"Yes, Poe! I have feelings!" The way your voice increases its strength sends him aback, looking at you with his eyes wide open as you are debating whether to continue speaking or not. But what do you have to lose? Poe? He is standing right in front of you, right before your grasp, yet you feel like you have already lost him. "I have feelings for you." Every word comes out slowly from your mouth.

For once, Poe is speechless. He looks at you as he tries to make sense of what you just said, with raindrops dripping from his curls onto his face.

You used to love rain back home, those showers that send you into a deep sleep; but the way it looks on him, so naturally beautiful while you are collapsing inside, is only a reminder of what storms are actually like: rough, disastrous, messy, and loud. And that's what Poe Dameron is too.

"Fuck it," You begin to walk towards the exit of the cave, Poe still looking at you in shock. "I'll spend the night at the ship."

His hand grabs your wrist before you step outside. As you meet his face, you see him trying to form words, any kind, anything.

"Wait, just- it's freezing outside. It's fall, you said so yourself, it's only going to get colder at night." His voice is softer than before, trying to calm the whole situation down. "Let's just talk about it."

"Talk?" You ask unconvinced, but his eyes look for yours even when you try to escape, looking down only to find his warm hand still holding your wrist. "What's there to talk, Poe?"

"This!" He says desperately, his eyes frantic, looking straight at you. "Our situation, and what you just said! We can't just leave it like that."

"Do you have feelings for me?" You know the answer already, or at least you think you do because when his eyes settle on you and words die in his throat you are suddenly not so sure.

"I- I don't-" Poe stutters.

You smile defeated, releasing your wrist from his grip.

Right. A storm. Storms don't have feelings, they just pour down on you.

🍂🍂🍂

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