#still trying to catch up on posting these here

[giannaln4]

Lucky Bracelet

lando norris x fem reader

summary: Making friendship bracelets was one of your favourite things to keep you entertained during race weeks, and you just had to make a special one for your boyfriend.  (1.5k words)

warnings: fluff, established relationship, a couple sexual innuendos

a/n: guys look at me! two posts in one week? crazy. i'm honestly trying to clean up my inbox since i still have a few requests from before my break 😭 so if you sent one, i'm getting there, i promise! now, this is a little bit cheesy and there are a few weird time skips so I apologise for that, but i really hope you like it! pls let me know what you think 🫶🏻

check out the original request here!

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

Being constantly surrounded by hundreds of people and the double amount of cameras was not something you liked, but it’s something you had to put up with given the amount of attention your boyfriend got; it was something you have learnt to deal with. Not that you were fully used to it now, but at least it didn’t make you as anxious as it used to when you first started dating.

At least now you found something that helped you get your mind off the intense atmosphere that surrounded you during race weeks: making friendship bracelets. You made a few when you went to see Taylor Swift in concert late last year, and it stuck with you since then.

You travelled with all the materials you needed: colourful beads and cotton threads, tape, scissors — the whole deal. It wasn’t like you made an insane amount of bracelets every time you accompanied Lando to a race, but if you were bored or overwhelmed, you knew you had something to do.

Today was one of those days; Lando was specially busy today, and given your shy and quiet personality, you didn’t know that many people around, so you decided to lock yourself in Lando’s drivers room and get to it, carefully picking the letters and colours you would use.

Lando hated to leave you alone. He was aware of the many things he had to do, but he didn’t expect them to take that long, so as soon as he got a little bit of free time to catch lunch, he went looking for you. 

“Hey,” he greeted one of the mechanics. 

“Hi mate, how is it going?”

“All good, thanks. It’s a bit hot outside but still nice.”

“And yet, you are wearing a hoodie.” He teased him.

Lando let out a laugh, well aware of his reputation. "Well, I still have to keep it in style, don’t I?”

“You do, we know.”

“Anyway, have you seen Y/N?” 

“She must be in your room. I haven’t seen her since the two of you got here this morning.”

He smiled, knowing exactly what you were up to if you hadn’t left the small space all day. “Thanks.”

Lando made his way to his room, carefully knocking on the door before coming in. He didn’t want to scare you and make you drop all your beads, which has happened more times than he would like to admit.

“Come in,” he heard you yell from inside.

He opened the door and gave you the sweetest smile you have ever seen. “Hey, I’m back.”

“Hey, what took you so long?” You dropped everything you were doing to direct your attention at him. 

“Sorry, I didn’t know we would have to be there all morning, but I’m back for lunch.”

“It’s okay, and thank God, I’m starving.” You took a piece of tape to hold your bracelet in place and started to get up.

“What are you making here?” He asked you as he got closer to the small table, analysing what you had on display as the bright-coloured beads caught his eye.

“No, it’s a surprise.” You responded, quickly hiding your unfinished creation with your hands. 

“A surprise you say?” He came behind you to wrap his arms around you, softly kissing your head. 

You melted into his embrace and hummed in response, using one of your bags to hide it instead so you could hug your boyfriend back. “You can’t see it until you win this race.”

“Mhm, I see. What if I don’t win? When do I get to see it?” He questioned, not wanting to jinx his weekend, but he was still curious. 

“The next race you win.” You said this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Got it. In that case, I’m gonna have to win this race.” He grabbed your hips to turn you around, kissing you on the lips once you were facing him.

You went to eat your lunch together as you normally did, enjoying each other’s company as you talked about anything you could come up with. Before you knew it, he had to go back to his duties, and even though you tried hard to act normal about being left alone so he wouldn’t feel guilty, he still noticed. He knew you better than you knew yourself, anyway.

“You can come with me if you want, that way you don’t have to be alone.”

“No, it’s okay. I know there are millions of people and cameras when you do these things."

He couldn’t help but feel guilty; he knew you were there to support him, so he hated to be apart from you when you did. “I’m sorry, love. I know you don’t feel comfortable when there are a lot of people around. You know you don’t have to be here if you don’t want to, you could always stay home.”

“If you don’t want me to come, just say that,” you joked.

“No, it’s not that,” Lando replied immediately. “I do want you here, I always do, but I hate that you feel like you have to hide.”

“Lan, I’m not hiding. Sure, I do prefer to stay inside, but it’s not because I want to hide from the world. Besides, that’s why I always bring something to entertain myself with. I’ll be fine, I promise,” you reassure him.

“Okay,” he nods, smiling at you. “But if you want to go back to the hotel, that’s okay.”

The rest of the weekend went on a lot quicker, even though he was just as busy. Qualifying and race days were a lot less boring since you got to see the cars from the garage, enjoying the full wag experience. 

As the race went on, you couldn’t help but feel anxious and excited at the same time. Lando started from pole (which made you assure him the night before he would get to see the bracelet after the race), but you still had the need to crack your fingers every once in a while. There were only a few laps left, and he had led the entire race so far, and with the gap becoming bigger, you couldn’t contain your excitement.

Once he finally crossed that finish line with a 21-second margin, everyone in the garage cheered and jumped, celebrating Lando’s achievement. A lot of people gathered outside to see him get off the car and celebrate his third win himself, shouting his name and patting him in the helmet to congratulate him.

When it was time for the podium, you decided to go get the finished bracelet you kept in your purse and held it close to your heart, feeling extremely proud of Lando for the amazing race he just had. You couldn't stop the few tears that left your eyes; it made you so happy to see him accomplish his dreams. 

The whole thing was finally over, and you waited for him right there so you could finally express how proud of him you were. 

“Congrats, baby,” you said, hugging him as if you hadn’t seen him in months. “You did amazing.”

“Thank you.” Lando couldn’t erase the big smile off his face as he hugged you back. 

“That’s a cool trophy you got back there.”

“Yeah, I don’t really care about that.” He said, puling away and looking down at you. 

“You don’t?” You asked confused.

“No, I’m still waiting for my real reward.”

“Oh… we can go back to the hotel-”

“No!” He interrupted you, laughing loudly at the fact that your mind went there. “I mean my bracelet, didn’t you say I would get it if I won this race? Well, I did, and now I’m claiming it.”

You laughed, your cheeks burning a bit from embarrassment. “Right, uh- it’s not that great compared to your trophy.”

“I’m sure it’s better than any trophy I could ever get.”

Man, he really knew how to be the sweetest boyfriend in the entire world. You pulled the bracelet out of your pocket, hiding it in your fist before dropping it in his hands. 

The colours were the first thing that caught his attention. Fluoro green and black beads. He inspected these first, until he got to the little letters that read ‘MY WINNER’. He almost couldn’t contain his tears; he was so endeared by you and how much you supported his passion.

“I love it,” he whispered, lifting you up and kissing you emotionally before putting you back down and sliding the bracelet in his wrist, admiring the way it looked there. “Thank you.”

“See? I told you you would get to see it today.”

“It must be a lucky bracelet, then. I’m never taking it off.”

You giggled at this, loving how Lando reacted to the bracelet you made with much love, but you still thought he was just messing with you. “You must be tired.” You teased him.

“Mhm. Now, about my other reward-”

“Oh my God.” You rolled your eyes as you let out a loud laugh, holding his hand as you made your way to the car.

[soaps-mohawk]

I'm so sorry to everyone that I freaked out with the last post, I was trying so hard not to 😭 I have that like instant fear as soon as I see "we need to talk" or something in the same vein. I always think it's something bad.

This isn't bad, at least depending on how your perspective I guess.

So...I'm having thoughts about CRCB in October. I planned out posting schedules for Kyletober and CRCB and my Patreon stuff and it's going to basically be a post every day, sometimes multiple in multiple places.

That's a lot.

So, I am set on doing Kyletober since all of the fics are already written, but I was planning on continuing CRCB during October as well. But...I think I need a little break from CRCB. It's been about eight months of posting almost every single week and it's been a lot. I'm struggling with chapters right now and with work it's vastly limiting the time I have to write and focus on things and I'm kind of burning out right now.

So, what I wanted to discuss was potentially putting CRCB on hold for October while I focus on Kyletober and everything involved with that. Trying to do both is a lot and I'm not sure I can handle all of it, plus life, plus work.

I was planning on not necessarily putting CRCB on hold, but doing more of a "whenever I can/am inspired" random posting chapters kind of like I did in the beginning when I first started writing the fic, in November/December because those are very busy months and I will be dead tired from work and just general life.

I think I might still do that for November/December and possibly into the new year since there's no way the fic will be finished even if I posted every week until the end of December.

BUT

That's something I'll think about and make a decision on later.

Right now, my thought is...would you hate me if I put CRCB on pause in October? IF I do, I promise I won't end Chapter 39 on a cliffhanger. I wasn't planning on it anyway, but I promise I won't end it on a cliffhanger if I decide not to post any chapters in October.

That way if I do put it on pause, then I can not focus on it for a bit and give my brain a refresh, and I can also focus all my energy on Kyletober.

So yeah, it's going to be a lot doing both at the same time, and honestly I'm ready for a little break from CRCB. It's been going for a long time and it's a lot of words to get out in a week. I've been super stressed lately and I'm just struggling a lot trying to get through chapters.

So yeah. That's basically the dilemma here and the discussion to be had. I know y'all will tell me it's my blog and I can do whatever I want, but I would like opinions on it. Are y'all okay with me putting CRCB on hold to focus on Kyletober? Then pick it back up for probably just whenever I can chapter updates for the rest of the year? In January things will calm down and I'll have more time to relax and write and maybe get close to finishing the story. Plus I know a lot of my readers will be busy the next three months with the holidays and vacations and family and school and all of that, so you won't have to worry about getting behind and having to catch up with a bunch of chapters.

So...let me know...

[323cutie]

3:03 am | choi san

fluff. 600 words.

a/n ik milan fashion week is over but i started writing this when it was still a thing . I miss sannie

You weren’t really expecting to call San tonight – especially not at this time. It’s late for you, and you’re almost entirely sure he’s still at the Dolce and Gabbana event he’s in Italy for. 

But you can’t sleep. And it may or may not be related to the fact that he’s in Italy to begin with.

So you take a chance – as the phone rings, you try not to get your hopes up. If he doesn’t answer, you’ll just have to try a couple more melatonin gummies, or maybe a warm cup of tea, or maybe you’ll just doom scroll until you finally feel tired enough, but you have work tomorrow so any sleep would be better than nothing –

“Hello?” San’s voice cuts through your thoughts, and you feel all the tension in your body disappear completely. A gentle comfort, and familiar sound. 

“Hey,” you respond, voice a little breathless. You feel silly, emotional at the sound of his voice alone. “You still at that event? I’m not interrupting, am I?”

You can practically see the way he shakes his head. “No, we just got back to the hotel,” he says. There’s a pause, then a slight ruffle of sheets on his end, and then he asks, “everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer, immediate. And it’s not entirely a lie… but you hope he leaves it be anyways. You change the subject quickly. “Saw the pictures you posted.”

San humors you, offering a soft laugh (you wish you could hear it in your room with you). “Did you like them?” 

You nod, but remember he can’t see you, then hum in agreement. Rolling over from your back to your side, you put your phone on top of the pillow next to you. “You look pretty,” you tell him, voice gentle.

He does. All sunkissed skin and beautiful fabrics, he looks like he belongs, a piece of him meant to be in the heart of Italy. He looks lovely in that all-white suit, tailored perfectly to his proportions, an air of elegance around him. But you think your favorite post so far is the one he made when he first arrived – your Sannie, casual and sleek, warm and sweet. Glowing in the streets of Milan.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” San asks suddenly. “It’s way late for you, baby.” 

San sounds so tender, and you wish he was here with you. Fingers interlocked with yours in the dark, safe in his hold, sound asleep. You want to run your hands through his hair and look into his eyes and kiss him. Want to hear his pretty voice without the buffer of a speaker on a phone.

“Can’t sleep,” you tell him honestly. You wrap yourself tighter in your blankets. “...I miss you, you know.”

You thought saying it out loud would help, but the longing you feel only pulls itself tighter, connected to both you and San. Taut and painful, like an exposed nerve, an almost physical ache. There’s quiet on the other end of the call, and you wonder if maybe it dropped –

“Oh, sweetheart,” San murmurs, his voice so warm. “I miss you more.”

You feel unravelled with care, heart pounding at his words despite being with him for so long now. It makes your face hot and you feel the well of tears in your eyes – you sniff and San laughs, but it’s only fond. “I’ll be home soon,” he says, “Okay? Just wait a little longer.”

A noise of agreement leaves you because you’re afraid if you speak it’ll all come rushing out, but you take a deep breath and try to remember the smell of his cologne and the different colors in his eyes. You swear you feel a ghost of a touch from his hands.

“‘Kay,” you eventually respond. The world is a little blurry around the edges of your eyesight, your limbs heavy. “I love you.”

San’s response is immediate, and you manage to catch it before you drift off completely; his voice reaches you from across the world as he says, “I love you too.”

[moodymisty]

I’ve been thinking about our resident fail wizard and have come up with two ideas for a request about him, pick which ever one appeals to you.

Maybe some cute pre heresy encounter with Ahriman, you are one of the rembrancer or chapter serf attached to the Thousand Sons legion. You find yourself amazed and interested in the warp sorcery that the legion performs and Ahriman strike up a conversation with you after seeing your admiring glance

Or post heresy your another psyker or acolyte of Tzneetch who been roped into helping Ahriman find a cure for the Rubric post heresy. You don’t really have a choice in the matter and so are forced to help him. Though as you spend more time together, pouring over ancient tomes and following leads, you can’t help but feel Azhek’s eyes on you more and more. Never escaping the feeling that you’ve begun to take up his attention more and more

Author's note: I love meetcutes, so i had to do the first one lol enjoy a little snippet

Relationships: Azhek Ahriman/Gn!Reader

Warnings: None really

It's always fascinated you- how the warp comes to them so easily.

They seem so natural with it, a power beyond your imagination is simply at their fingertips, cast in a million and one different shapes and forms. It's endless, boundless, yet they seem able to twist it to their desires at their beck and call. With an everexpanding grasp as well, each time you see them it's something new; A new spell at their fingertips or lips.

You don't mean to interrupt him; You were only taking a momentary breather in the night air before going to your bedchambers. This has always been your favorite spot, a small balcony overlooking vast portions of Prospero.

instead of being alone however you find Lord Ahriman on the balcony, flipping through the pages of a book that floats to his left as if hung by invisible strings.

You find yourself awestruck by the sight, and when he looks to you the warmth of his eyes is almost hypnotizing.

"You seem quite surprised,"

He says, and you quickly divert your eyes downward and partly bow in the proper show of respect. You hadn’t expected someone of his stature here, you barely had time to compose yourself.

"I, I am so sorry Lord Ahriman."

You raise your head up and take yet another glance towards his floating book, eyes catching on the odd way the very air around it seems distorted. Then they look towards him as you await his orders- you presume they will be to dismiss you- before glancing to his book again.

"You seem quite interested. Is something on your mind?"

You look back up at him; The moonlight casts his tanned skin in a pristine glow, only broken up by the way his scars cast the light differently. His armor is cleaned, the white fabric draping over harsh metal edges and smoothing out like flowing water.

You take a small step closer, words on your tongue.

"Is it..." You purse your lips, trying to find the right words. "What does it feel like?"

The gentle evening breeze blows through your clothes, sending them flying about before landing back against your skin. You still have trouble looking him in the eyes, holding your arms close to your body.

"I don't think there are any words to describe it, little one."

He watches the look on your face change curiously, before giving a breathy chuckle.

"I didn't mean to disappoint."

You can’t help the feeling of disappointment that crosses your face, the feeling of not fully understanding. You want to know more, you need to know more, but your lot in life has seemingly denied you.

Ahriman finds that amusing; And perhaps worth a bit of his pity. A bright young mind, forever closed off from learning more. But yet you yearn so eagerly, so wantonly for more.

In a fit of impulsiveness you reach your hand outward into the oddly warping air around his tome, feeling the way the air changes in a way indescribable. Ahriman lets you, watching amused as you pull your hand away.

“I don’t think I’ve seen a mortal quite as stupidly curious as you.” He smiles a bit, even as you shirk away and await admonishment.

How doesn’t however, and instead makes a bit of room at his side.

“Let me show you a few more wonders, if a floating book can mesmerize you so.”

[cesilly]

- you owe me

hamzah x reader

18+ MINORS DNI

contains: arguing, swearing, oral (fem receiving)

my first actual post don’t come for me ok idk how this works and idk if it’s too long cause idk when to stop ok thx

————————————————————————

“god, fuck!”

you’re rudely startled awake in the middle of the night by a string of loud cusses and grumbles. you quickly sit up straight, stiffening as you glance around the dark bedroom belonging to mandy and martin, in their apartment where you were currently sleeping for the night while the two of them were on vacation.

a little frightened, you hear the cats begin meowing loudly as heavy footsteps can be heard throughout the living room.

“shh, shh!” you can make out the sound of frantic pleads for the animals to stay quiet when you get out of bed and press your ear up against the door.

“where is it? martin, fucking call me back right now. jesus!”

you continue to listen, and now you recognize the voice.

hamzah.

you and hamzah have somewhat of a complicated relationship, due to both of you always being around this apartment, especially when you’re trying to hang out with mandy and he’s trying to hang out with martin. the couple has tried easing you and hamzah into being friends, yet you both have no interest in being around each other because of this annoyance that has only grown between you two over time.

you gently push the door open, being met with the humid summer air that resides outside of the bedroom, where you have a fan plugged in to help you sleep. you catch sight of him, pacing around the kitchen and living room, searching with his phone’s flashlight.

he doesn’t notice you.

you think about the easiest way to make your presence known without scaring the shit out of him, so you decide to just flip the switch to turn the hallway light on.

“huh?” he exclaims anxiously, his eyes quickly darting over and landing on you. “what the hell are you doing here?”

his voice is harsh and unforgiving as he shines the flash into your eyes, not even giving you time to adjust to the overhead light.

you shield your vision from the brightness, letting out a groan. “i could ask you the same thing. i just needed a place to sleep. which you’re interrupting right now, by the way.” you clear your throat.

“and shine that thing somewhere else, please.”

he grumbles and tosses his phone down onto the kitchen counter with a loud clatter. “i don’t have time for you right now. this is great, this is great!” he rambles. you watch him with furrowed brows as he tangles his own fingers in his hair and tugs on it, his back to you, seeming as if he’s struggling to keep his composure.

“what is your problem?” you ask, already not appreciating the way he’s speaking to you.

“no, no, you don’t get it.” he mutters. “if martin took the fucking key, if he took the fucking key with him, he’s dead. i can’t find it. i have so much work in there, and i can���t find the goddamn key.” his frustration increases with every word, as he stalks over to the couch and throws the pillows to the floor, feeling a for this key.

you assume he’s talking about the key to the studio that him and martin share for projects and whatnot, but you couldn’t care less about that. him being here has already aggravated you enough, you don’t want to help him at all.

“this is not my problem. i’m going back to sleep so, keep it down, okay?” you say with an small, sarcastic smile.

“no, no. you’re here, you’re going to help me.” he replies, his back still turned towards you.

this makes you laugh. “um, no? i’m not going to do anything for you.”

in less than a second, he turns and around and he’s suddenly an inch away from you. the room is almost unbearingly hot, the humidity making your skin sticky. you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

his voice sounds like a warning when he speaks again. “whether you help me or not, i’m not leaving until i find this thing, so you’re most likely not sleeping any more tonight unless i do. if you’d just fucking look, maybe we’d get done faster and i won’t have to be around you any fucking longer than i’ve already had to.”

you stare up at him for a few moments, realizing that it technically would be better for you if you at least looked around a little bit.

“you’re sure that it’s here?”

“yes.” he says, with his jaw clenched. “fucking obviously.”

“fine.” you say affirmatively. “you’ll fucking owe me if i find it for you.”

“fine.” he replicates your tone, heading towards the bedroom without another word.

•••

it takes you over an hour, but you find it.

the key was shoved under a notebook in the drawer of martin’s desk. stupid fucking spot.

you clutch the small key attatched to a little chain in your hand, walking into the bedroom where this man is currently looking underneath the bedside table. you stand and watch his frantic demeanor, fighting back a laugh before somehow he senses your presence and turns to look at you.

“what?” he says impatiently, his knuckles going white as he grips the edge of the small nightstand.

you smile and let the key drop from your palm, holding onto the little chain and dangling it around like it’s a prize you’re showing off.

he immediately stands and steps toward you, his face lighting up as he snatches the key from you and simultaneously grips your waist with his other hand. he doesn’t even realize where his hand automatically flew, he’s just staring at the key, looking puzzled.

“where? what?” he mumbles.

you stay silent, frozen in place. you’ve never come close enough to this man to let him touch you, and you don’t know why his hand is making you feel nervous.

hamzah snaps out of it and looks at you, then down at his hand, retracting his arm silently. he pockets the key in his shorts. “where?” he repeats, looking down at you.

“desk.” your voice is barely above a whisper.

he shakes his head. “it makes me even more annoyed with you because you found it before i did.” he says.

you chew on your lip. “doesn’t matter.” you say with a straight face.

he cocks his head to the side, looking aggravated, confused, and curious all at once.

“you owe me.” you remind him with a slight nod, your baby hairs sticking to your forehead as result of the heat in the small apartment.

“right, right.” he nodded. “what do you want?”

as you think of a response, he looks at you like an animal hunting prey.

“what are you willing to give me?” you reply.

“don’t ask me that.” a breathy laugh escapes him, and he rakes his hands through his hair like he’s stressed. “you have no fucking idea.”

“i don’t?”

“no, not a goddamn clue.” he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek.

the sound of your own heartbeat rings in your ears, your pulse quickening. you don’t know why this ongoing tension you’ve had with him suddenly feels different, like a switch has been flipped.

“what do you mean?” is all you can manage to say as you look at him and his bewildered face, seeming like he’s lost in his own thoughts.

“what do i mean? jesus, what do i mean? yeah, fuck, i can show you what i fucking mean, okay?” he grabs your face in his hands. “you bother me so much. i can’t fucking figure out what it is with you.”

you hold onto his wrists, meeting his eyes, seeing his expression that seems almost challenging.

“god, just shut up.” i whisper urgently.

he pauses for a few seconds, but quickly makes up his mind. “yeah. ‘kay.” he responds too casually, like he can read your thoughts. he runs his thumb along your bottom lip. “can i?”

you nod.

“no, say it.” his voice is barely audible.

“yes, hamzah.”

his lips then press to yours with the urgency that his tone was lacking.

his hands travel to your waist, gripping harshly as his lips overtake yours. “fuck.” he starts to mutter as he breaks away repeatedly, like he’s trying to control himself but he just can’t stop coming back to your lips.

“m’gonna,” another kiss. “give you,” another. “what you deserve.”

you exhale against his lips, snaking your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist when his grip tightens on you and he lifts you up.

he carries you to the couch where he had thrown all the pillows from earlier, sitting you on the edge. he slides his hands under your shirt as he sinks down onto his knees.

watching him kneel before you finally makes it painfully clear what he was intending on doing, because this was what he’s willing to give you.

“oh,” you whisper.

he looks up while he’s in the middle of positioning his head between your legs.

“what?” his brows drop. “not good?”

you gaze down at him. the way he got into this position so quickly, it gives you the impression that maybe this isn’t the first time he’s thought about this.

you start to have doubts, but watching him stare up at you on his knees..

jesus christ, why the fuck not?

“no. s’good.” you nod, lifting your hips up off the surface of the couch. “c’mon.”

his lips part and he lets out an exasperated sigh, wasting no time before he tugs down your shorts and underwear. his breath hitches as your entire lower half is exposed.

“i hate you.” he says. “i hate you, and you’re so beautiful. c’mere,”

he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder and extends his fingers toward you.

“hold my hand.”

your heartbeat is overwhelmingly fast, and you can barely believe the words you’re hearing and the sight before you. your thoughts aren’t even coherent right now, so you decide to ignore them and interlace your fingers with his, your hands clasped together as they now rest upon your stomach.

“squeeze as hard as you fucking want,” he murmurs, finally leaning all the way in to kiss the inside of your thighs.

your grip automatically tenses, your body reacting embarrassingly quick to the fact that his lips are so fucking close to tasting you.

you hear and feel him laugh against your skin like it’s a million tiny electric shocks in your stomach. aside from all your desire, you still feel frustrated with the fact that you hate each other so much, but he’s still buried between your thighs right now.

not just frustrated, you’re angry. he owes you.

“hamzah,” you breathe out, holding onto his hand so tight, you feel as if your bones are touching his. “just fucking- ugh,”

you rake your other hand through his hair, easing his face towards your pussy that’s painfully aching for him by now.

you see his eyes flash up at you for a split second before he responds almost immediately, latching himself onto your pussy and eating you out like his life fucking depended on it.

a constant waterfall of gasps, moans, incoherent mumbles interrupted by groans of his name come spilling from your lips as you feel his tongue working against you, his nose rubbing against your clit.

he doesn’t let go of your hand once, making sure he glances up at you every few seconds to watch your pretty face become damp with sweat, and see how your chest rises and falls with each sharp breath.

“so fucking good,” his voice vibrates against you. “how could i ever hate you, really?”

you can barely hear those last few words, but you’re too caught up in the moment to actually process what they mean.

“i feel, mm,” you can hardly put a sentence together when he’s stimulating every single part of your body so perfectly. his blunt nails gently trace along your leg that he holds over his shoulder, a stark contrast to the way he’s absolutely devouring you right now.

“hamzah, i’m..”

“i know, beautiful. let it out,” he groans.

“oh, shit, fuck!”

your orgasm possesses your whole body within seconds. your thighs trembling, sweat dripping down your chest, your face flushed, your hand still interlocked with his as you release.

it’s silent in the humid room as both of you regain your composure, hamzah taking it upon himself to lay his head against your thigh.

“hamzah..”

he perks up.

“i still don’t like you, you know.” you breathe out with a lazy smile.

his lips spread into a grin. “shut up.”

————————————————————————

[nino-rox]

ADDICTED | BYEON WOO SEOK X MALE READER | M.A

Content Warning : Sexual themes, Top Wooseok and Bottom Male Reader, Angst, Mature, Use of Drugs (Marijuana), Trigger Warning - emotional /mental abuse, college AU.

Disclaimer : This is a Fan-fiction story written for entertainment purposes only, no part of the story implies or affirms anything regarding real world events or individuals. Please be of the appropriate age ( i.e, Adult as per your country’s stipulations and regulations) before interacting with this post

I woke up feeling cold and lonely in our bed.

When I opened my eyes and saw the empty side of the bed where Woo Seok was supposed to be sleeping I remembered last night and how he just left.

I turned to the side and stared at the empty space where his face would usually rest. It felt so lonely, I almost wanted to cry. I reached over to his side of the bed and touched his pillow, hugging it to my chest and trying to catch any last lingering scent of him.

The scent of him comforted me as I sat in silence for a while, hugging his pillow close.

After a while I got out of bed, I felt so drained, both mentally and physically.

I had hoped last night was just a dream. That maybe he was still here somewhere.

I walked into the kitchen, hoping he'd be there with breakfast and his charming smile. I hoped he would greet me with his arms wide open and tell me he was sorry and that everything was going to be okay. But there was no one in the kitchen. Just an empty table and a lonely chair.

It made me sad. I thought we were finally getting better. That maybe things were looking up for us. We had been fighting a lot lately and things between us had been really rocky. Last night was the last straw for me. I had decided when he get’s back….if…. He gets back…. I need a break.

We hadn't gone on a proper date in months. It seemed like all he wanted to do was stay home, sit on the couch and drink. I tried talking to him about it but he kept avoiding it. I tried bringing up the topic, but every time we would end up in another fight.

We were fighting over such small things lately, things that never used to be a problem, over a towel on the bed, over lights, food, sex, everything.

I couldn’t take it anymore, it felt like we were falling apart and no matter what I did he wouldn't talk to me, he was shutting me out and I was sick of it.

"Why are you making a big deal out of this? Why don't you go out with your stupid friends!" He yelled.

"Because I want to spend time with you!"

“ I can’t with you right now. I need a fucking break. I am so sick and tired of this! Just go, please! I need some fucking air. I am sick of being in this house, with you, all day long. I need to clear my mind. Please just leave me alone." He said and walked away.

"Wait, Wooseok." I ran after him, grabbing him by the arm and turning him around to face me.

"I don't want to be in this house alone right now, if you walk out right now, I WILL hold it against you…I mean it."

He looked at me and for a second I saw a glimpse of the old him. My sweet and kind Woo. He was there. Behind those dark eyes, I saw the same man that I fell in love with. The man that brought me coffee in the morning, and made me laugh so hard, I could barely breathe. Always hung out with me in every class break. The man that always asked how my day was and would bring me a single flower just because. He was there, I knew it.

But as soon as the glimmer came, it disappeared and all that was left was anger and darkness.

"Let go of me."

"NO, Woo Seok, I will NOT let go. Please, talk to me, what's wrong, what is bothering you?"

"You. You are bothering me." He said and snatched his arm from my grasp, walking out and slamming the door behind him.

I was snapped back to reality, realizing that the last words we had exchanged were hateful ones.

I looked down at my hands, the hands that were holding him, and realized I was still clutching his pillow.

I sighed, dropping the pillow to the floor, getting into the bathroom for a shower.

I had to stop thinking about it. It was all in the past, and right now I had a day off from school and no plans...not any more … at least.

I needed to distract myself, I quickly showered, putting on my favorite outfit, the one that I had picked for the date that wasn't going to happen and headed out the door. If he didn’t wanna go to the beach … FINE, I can go.

The sun was setting as I got to the beach, there were a lot of people…and couples… enjoying the weather and the ocean view. It was a beautiful place. The waves crashed onto the shore and the sound was like music to my ears. It calmed me, and made me feel free and happy and since this day is such a bust, I might as well try and enjoy this by getting high.

I walked around a little as the sky grew slightly darker, finding a good spot, laying my towel on the sand, putting my bag and stuff next to me, before lighting up. I was taking in the scenery, the sky was growing darker and the beach was almost empty, most people were leaving, and as the smoke was leaving my lungs, I was already feeling lighter and happier excited about the high to come which would make me forget about all the drama - it was also kinda cold, pretty cold.

As I took another large drag from the joint, I felt the high starting, I was more “aware” of myself and my surroundings, I felt at ease, and it felt like i had let out a breath i dint know i was holding in. Suddenly the stress of the situation began to reduce as my body felt lighter, more fluid and ‘fun’.

I was lost in the sensations of the high, I put on some music, took off my t-shirt and laid down, shut my eyes for a moment, getting comfy in my plush soft blanket.

Suddenly I heard a chuckle, a chuckle full of snark.

"Well, that's certainly a sight, I guess your dates are more fun without me"

I opened my eyes, and was met with his.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I mumbled closing my eyes immediately, not wanting to accept that this was happening.

"Nice way to greet your boyfriend" he replied, and snatched the joint from my hand, taking a long drag.

"You can't just show up here like that, we're supposed to be taking a break, remember? You didn't want me, you made that very clear. I don't have to put up with this, fuck off. Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of"

"Aww Ouchie. That hurt." He said tauntingly, and then continued, "you look really good in those shorts, you know"

"Fuck off, Wooseok" I replied, sitting up and reaching for the joint, which he immediately raised above his head, out of reach from my height, as he chuckled.

His playful and casual mood was starting to throw me into a rage, why was he acting like nothing was wrong? After everything he said? Why was he now fucking with your high when you weren’t even dating anymore?

"You can't just leave and come back, whenever the fuck you feel like it."

"Watch me" He replied, taking another drag, and smiling.

"What's gotten into you? Are you drunk or something?"

"No" He laughed and handed the joint back to you - you didn’t accept it from him.

"Why are you acting like nothing's wrong, like you didn't walk out last night? Like you didn't tell me, and I quote "I am sick and tired of you"

"Oh come on, don't be a bitch!"

"Don't call me a bitch, Wooseok."

“You taking a hit or no?? It’s getting wasted over here. "

"Are you actually fucking with me right now???"

"Okay fine…Don't want it, you don't get it.." He said taking a massive drag and putting out the joint with his foot.

I stood up angrily and yelled, "Are you crazy?! That was a perfectly good joint, you just wasted it!!"

Suddenly Wooseok roughly grabbed my waist pulling me closer as he harshly held my face with one hand keeping my mouth open - he immediately pressed his lips onto mine, shotgunning his last massive drag into your mouth.

One was breathing out pushing the smoke, while the other was taking it all in.

His lips were on mine, his tongue was inside of me. It was intense. I hated that I loved it.

The kiss felt heavy and intoxicating, Wooseok slowly pushing his body’s weight onto you, both getting on our knees, lips still intact.

Wooseok slowly pulled away from me and looked at me, his gaze was hungry.

He was so beautiful, the sunset illuminating his face, and his eyes. I loved his eyes, and his smile, and the way he looked at me.

My eyes were fixed on his as I tried to catch my breath, my mind feeling shocked, angry and very much seduced at the same time.

“Tell me that wasn’t a better hit than the joint,” He whispered into my ear, his breath warm and seductive as he smirked, his gaze locked with mine, not breaking eye contact for a second. I had missed his voice, and the way his lips brushed against my skin as he spoke. I missed the way he was looking at me, and how his touch set my entire body on fire. I missed him.

I tried to say something but the words wouldn't come out.

Loosening his grip on my face he slowly moved his hand down to my hip, gripping it, and slowly pushing his leg between my thighs, as he pushed me onto my back.

He towered over me - "Now, where were we?" He whispered again, his lips grazing mine and his breath hitting my face.

His lips were so close, it was driving me crazy. I didn't know if I should push him away or pull him closer, but what about everything he said? Did I forgive him just like that? Was I really this easy?

He leaned down and kissed me, softly at first, but quickly grew more heated and passionate, his tongue exploring my mouth. His hands roaming all over my body, pulling my hips closer, pushing his knee against my crotch.

My brain was screaming at me to push him off, but my body was betraying me, wanting his touch, and craving more - addicted - addicted to him.

He slowly started kissing down my neck, his hands caressing my chest, his thumb brushing against my nipple, making me moan. He smiled and started kissing my neck, sucking hard, biting me, making me whimper and moan.

My head was spinning, it was all too much, and not enough at the same time. At some point I just had a silent stream of tears, running down my cheeks as the emotions hit me.

"I missed this so much" Wooseok whispered, kissing his way down my chest, and biting and licking my nipples.

"So much."

- I didn’t react

"Please, let's go home, okay? Come on."

- No response

"Y/N, come on. Let's go home."

"Look, I'm sorry okay? Can we please go home and talk about this?"

"No, Wooseok, you had your chance, you said it yourself, I bother you, remember? You don't need to pretend like everything is okay."

"Baby, please. Don't be like that. I didn't mean it."

"Yes you did."

"No, baby, please, it’s getting dark can we just talk inside.”

“ baby, I just wanna go home, and talk. It's so cold, and it's getting late."

- I turned around laying on my other side, my back facing him.

He sighed and then got up, packing our things, and putting everything back into my bag.

He walked over, and reached out his hand for me.

"Let's go, it's getting late.”

-I refused his hand and got up on my own, brushing off the sand.

"Come on, let's go" He said again, his voice impatient, as he grabbed my wrist and tried to drag me along.

"Stop it!" I protested, but he was still dragging me.

"LET GO OF ME!"

- I yelled, and pulled my arm away from him.

He turned to look at me, a hint of anger flashing in his eyes.

"What the fuck is your problem?" He yelled.

"You're my problem. You keep hurting me and then acting like nothing's wrong!”

"It's not like you never hurt me!,” he shot back.

"When? When did I ever do that to you?"

"You didn’t even run behind me in the morning when I said we needed a Break, you didn’t even care! You couldn’t care less about fighting for this relationship!."

"OFCOURSE I CARE! Maybe I would've chased you if you didn't leave after yelling at me and telling me to leave you alone!, and as for FIGHTING for the relationship, ALL I HAVE DONE is fight for it! - Chase after you ??? For What ???? You and I NEVER make it fucking work, has anything we’ve had for so long even barely qualify as a relationship?,” I snapped back in rage, only realising what I had just said after his expression fell dark and cold. Before I could Tell him I would never mean that -

"JUST WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT Y/N” He shouted at me, his voice was harsh and his eyes were dark and cold, there was no trace of the Wooseok I had just been kissing.

I didn't respond, my heart was beating fast, and I felt like I couldn't breathe.

"WELL ?" He shouted again, stepping closer to me.

"W-what?"

"What do you want from me, hm? What can I possibly do to fix this? You are always complaining, about something, and nothing I ever do is good enough for you, it's never enough, and you're always mad at me, what the hell do you want from me?!

“ I JUST WANT YOU, OKAY !! I WANT YOUR LOVE AND ATTENTION AND PRESENCE I WANT YOU TO HOLD ME I WANT YOU TO BE THERE! “

I paused for a second and then continued, my voice cracking. - "And you weren't. You aren’t.

It was like I could see the person I love crumble, his expression changed and I saw his eyes start to water.

"Will you give me.." he hesitated for a moment, and then continued, his voice shaking.

"will you give me another chance?, Please."

- The last word came out almost like a whisper.

I didn't say anything. My eyes were filled with tears.

He stepped closer to me, his eyes fixed on mine.

"Please" He whispered.

"Just one more chance. Please."

-I still didn't say anything.

"Please, Baby."

-I nodded.

"Say it, say you'll give me another chance."

-He pleaded, his voice barely audible.

"I will"

-His expression changed.

-His eyes lit up as a smile spread across his face, tears still streaming.

"Thank you" He said, before wrapping his arms around my waist and burying his face in my shoulder.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly, my face pressed against his neck.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Y/N" He said, his voice shaking.

"it's… okay"

"no it's not. I was such an asshole to you. I'm so sorry"

"It's okay.”

"No, It's not. You don't deserve that. You deserve so much better than me. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. And I've been such an asshole."

"You have"

-He looked up at me, his eyes watery, and his expression full of regret.

"I'm sorry, Baby. I'm so sorry" He repeated.

-He hugged me tightly, his arms wrapped around my waist strongly, almost as if they were desperate to be embraced.

"I'm sorry too"

"you don't have to apologise, none of this was your fault. It was all mine. I fucked up." - “Let me make it up to you at home?” he asked smirking and grinning like an idiot while crying, which was honestly kinda cute.

"Okay, you can try, and the “I’m sorry sex” better be Earth Shattering,” - I added on, pouting…. as our lips collided.

PART 1 COMPLETE {Please Request For PART 2}

Author’s Note: Hey Everyone, This story was based on an anonymous request. This is the first time I’ve written such an argument scene in an informal/ non-academic way, so I really hope you guys like it. Please leave any feedback !!! It is always greatly appreciated. P.S - STORY IS NOT PROOF READ.

[wannabehockeygf]

hurt my feelings - elias petersson

part of the think later fic series

"She wears your number, but I got what you like, She's got you right now, but I'm still on your mind, I should've known better, You should've known better than me."

*** request: "I was wondering if you would be able to do an Elias Pettersson one? If not that’s fine, but if you do I would LOVE hurt my feelings with elias where he is in an open relationship and sleeping with the main character, but she’s in love with him yadayadayada. If you could do angst with a happy ending that would be great. Thank youuuu" summary: a more-than-stupid hookup has you feeling more than you thought it would. word count: 6k pairing: elias petersson x fem!reader warnings: nothing really, post-sex stuff? notes: - hi requester ty for waiting for so long for this. it's been in the making. - first petey fic! - not really proof read. - also the fact tate wrote this about a hockey player... cole sillinger u will always have fumbled. ***

Elias lifts his hips, pulling up a pair of sweatpants you’ve never seen in any picture of him, or anywhere else but when he’s with you. Which, admittedly, means you’re either in his car, at your dingy studio in Coal Harbour, or some other obscure spot for a quick fuck, just for him to leave right after.

You don’t want to feel this way. But the heart wants what it wants, and you want him.

Problem is, you can’t have him.

You watch him adjust his sweatpants, the fabric clinging to his hips, and feel the familiar ache in your chest, one you desperately try to ignore. His skin gleams under the dim light of the car’s dashboard, and the air inside is still thick with the heat of what you’ve just done, your clothes scattered near the passenger seat. But the warmth between you faded as soon as he reached for those pants.

The reality of it all starts to settle in, creeping up on you as you sit there, still trying to catch your breath. Your body’s exhausted, but your mind? It’s racing, swirling with all the things you don’t want to admit, not to yourself, and definitely not to him.

Elias, with his perfect nonchalance, runs a hand over the top of his head, his eyes scanning the fogged-up windows. His fingers drum against the steering wheel like it’s just another night, just another routine. And that’s what you hate the most—that it’s all so easy for him. He always makes it feel like it means nothing. Meanwhile, your heart is screaming at you to stop pretending it doesn’t.

“You want me to take you home?” His voice breaks the silence, casual, like he hadn’t just been inside you, like the intimate moments you share have no lasting weight.

You glance at him, a knot tightening in your stomach. The suggestion feels so transactional, like a one-way ticket out of his life until the next time he feels like doing this again. And you hate that you want the next time so badly.

“No,” you mutter, though your voice betrays you, shaky and unsure.

His brow lifts, a flicker of surprise, though he quickly masks it with that cool indifference. “No? You wanna stay here, or what?”

You hate how his tone makes it seem like you’re the one being unreasonable. You shift, pulling the hem of your shirt down to cover yourself, fighting the creeping embarrassment that always comes in these moments. “I just—” you hesitate, searching for words that won’t make you sound pathetic, needy. “I’m not some, like… some pit stop for you to get off and leave, Elias.”

He turns to you fully now, eyes narrowing slightly, the laid-back air around him thickening into something heavier. “What are you talking about? You knew what this was.”

Of course, you knew. You told yourself that over and over again, every time you ended up tangled in his sheets or here in his car. But knowing doesn’t make it hurt any less. “Yeah, I did,” you snap, the words sharper than you intended. “But I didn’t think it’d feel like this.”

“Like what?” His voice is calm, too calm, like he can’t understand why you’re spiraling.

You bite the inside of your cheek, the bitterness rising. You weren’t supposed to feel anything for him, right? That was the whole point. “Like I’m some backup plan until you’re bored again.” The confession hangs in the air between you, thick and unwelcome.

He exhales slowly, turning his gaze away, staring through the windshield into nothing. For a moment, it seems like he might say something to comfort you, to give you some semblance of reassurance. But instead, all you get is a quiet, “I never promised you anything.”

And there it is—his honesty, cutting deeper than you’d expected. You should respect him for it, for being upfront, but all it does is twist the knife in your chest. “I know you didn’t,” you whisper, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “But it still sucks.”

The car falls silent again, save for the hum of the engine, and for a moment, you wish you could just crawl out of your own skin and leave the feelings behind. Maybe then you wouldn’t care about how Elias is already emotionally checked out, like this was just another night, another body. Your body, for now, but never your heart. That wasn’t part of the deal. Yet here you are, feelings clawing their way to the surface no matter how hard you try to shove them down.

“Look, if you don’t wanna do this anymore, just say it.” His voice cuts through the silence, casual as ever, but this time it has a slight edge to it. Like you’re the one being unreasonable for having, god forbid, feelings. “I told you from the start, I’m not looking for anything serious.” He shifts in his seat, pulling his hoodie down over his chest like he’s already ready to move on with his night. “I thought you were cool with that.”

You feel the words hit like a punch to the gut, the weight of them sitting heavy in your stomach. Cool with that? You’re supposed to be cool with feeling like nothing more than a convenience? Like your body is something he can dip into whenever he feels like it and then discard just as quickly? You swallow hard, trying to push back the anger that’s rising, though your hands are already trembling in your lap.

“Yeah, well,” you start, your voice barely steady as you speak, “I thought I was too.” You pause, searching for the right words, but they won’t come. How can you explain something you don’t even fully understand? “But it doesn’t mean I want to feel like… like this.”

Elias shifts again, turning toward you, his brow furrowing in confusion. His fingers drum lightly on the steering wheel, the casual rhythm so at odds with the tension building in the air between you. “Like what? You’re acting like I’m doing something wrong.” His tone is laced with mild frustration, as if he genuinely can’t grasp why you’re spiraling. And maybe that’s what makes it worse—the fact that he doesn’t get it.

You look away, staring at the streaks of condensation on the window as your vision blurs with unshed tears. “Like I’m just a body to you,” you whisper, voice cracking. “Like you only want me when it’s convenient.” The vulnerability in your words makes your skin crawl, and you hate how pathetic you feel, but it’s too late to take it back now.

Elias lets out a long sigh, rubbing his hand over his face like you’re exhausting him. “I’m not trying to make you feel like shit,” he says, his tone softening, but the detachment is still there. “I told you from the beginning, I’m not gonna settle down. This is just… fun. You knew that.”

You know he’s trying to be reasonable, but it doesn’t matter. The words feel like salt in a wound, deepening the hurt that you’re so desperate to hide. Fun. That’s all it is to him. You clench your fists in your lap, nails digging into your palms, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I’m not asking you to settle down with me, Elias. I’m not fucking delusional,” you say, your voice rising despite your best efforts to stay calm. “But I’m not some fucking plaything either.”

His head snaps toward you, eyes narrowing. “Jesus, you’re blowing this way out of proportion,” he says, his voice sharper now. “It’s not that deep. You’re making this into something it’s not.”

The dismissiveness in his tone makes your blood boil. You can feel the heat rising in your chest, a flush creeping up your neck as the anger takes hold. “Not that deep?” You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “God, you really don’t get it, do you?” You turn to face him, your eyes burning as you meet his gaze. “I’m not asking you for some fairytale relationship, but fuck, Elias, I deserve more than being your afterthought.”

He stares at you, expression hardening as your words hit. His jaw clenches slightly, the tension visible in the way his hands grip the steering wheel. “Again, you knew what this was,” he repeats, his voice low, controlled. “If you’re catching feelings, that’s on you. I didn’t ask for that.”

The coldness of his words stings, each one hitting like a slap. And you hate it—the fact that he’s right, that you’re the one who let your heart get involved in something that was never meant to go beyond the physical. But knowing that doesn’t make it hurt any less. “You don’t think I know that?” you shoot back, your voice shaking with anger. “I didn’t ask for it either. I didn’t want this. But it’s happening, and it fucking sucks.”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You’re being ridiculous,” he mutters under his breath, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “We agreed this was just sex. Nothing more.”

Ridiculous. The word echoes in your mind, bouncing around like a cruel reminder of how you’ve let yourself get here, feeling something for someone who can’t even give you an ounce of what you need. Your hands tremble, and you quickly shove them under your thighs, trying to keep yourself from completely falling apart in front of him.

“Yeah, well, I guess I’m ridiculous then,” you spit, the bitterness in your voice seeping into every word. You feel the tears threatening to spill over, but you blink them back, refusing to let him see just how much this is hurting you. “But I’m done with this. I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t bother me.”

Elias looks at you, his jaw tight, his eyes flickering with something you can’t quite read—anger? Frustration? Indifference? You can’t tell anymore. “Whatever. I’m taking you home.” ***

You sit on the edge of your bed, legs crossed, the dim light of your laptop casting a pale glow across the room. Your phone rests beside you, silent, no new notifications lighting up the screen. You've been staring at it for what feels like hours, waiting for something—anything—to distract you from the gnawing emptiness settling in your chest. But, of course, nothing comes.

With a frustrated sigh, you grab your phone, thumb hovering over Instagram, knowing full well what you're about to do to yourself. You shouldn't, you know that, but the temptation is too strong. Against your better judgment, you open the app and type her name into the search bar. Her profile pops up almost immediately. There she is—her.

Elias’ girlfriend.

You click on her latest post, a snapshot of her at Rogers Arena, grinning ear to ear, wearing his jersey like it’s a crown, her hands raised above her head in mock celebration. #CanucksWin, the caption reads, followed by a string of blue and green heart emojis. She looks so… happy, like she belongs there, like she’s the one who has his heart, his attention. And maybe she is.

Your chest tightens as you scroll through her feed. Picture after picture of her and Elias at games, on vacations, laughing together, looking every bit the perfect couple. There’s one of them at the beach—Elias, shirtless and grinning, his arm slung casually over her shoulders, while she looks up at him like he’s the only person in the world. That smile, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners... You know that smile. You've seen it before, but not like this. Not in a way that made you feel like you’d been given something special, something real.

No, with you, it’s different. It’s fleeting, temporary. You’re just a body to him, a release when he needs it. Nothing more.

You hate it. Hate how she looks so comfortable in his world, while you're stuck on the outside, desperately clawing at the edges, trying to convince yourself that you don’t want what she has. But you do. God, you do.

You toss your phone onto the bed, resisting the urge to scream. The jealousy burns in your throat, hot and bitter, swirling with a cocktail of self-loathing and frustration. You shouldn’t care. This wasn’t supposed to matter. But here you are, scrolling through his girlfriend’s Instagram, tearing yourself apart because she has what you can’t.

The thought of her being with him—touching him, laughing with him, wearing the #40 like it was hers—makes your skin crawl. And the worst part? You can’t stop thinking about it. You can’t stop thinking about her. About how she gets to have the part of him you’ll never touch. His heart. The part that matters.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, your fingers are already moving, dialing Elias’ number. It rings once, twice, and then you hear his voice on the other end, casual, indifferent.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low, like he’s not surprised at all to hear from you.

Your heart thuds against your ribs, the jealousy bubbling up into your throat. You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “You busy?”

There’s a pause, and you can hear the faint sound of music in the background, a soft murmur of voices. “Yeah, kind of. I’m with—” He doesn’t have to finish the sentence for you to know who he’s with. The words are already twisting in your chest, like a knife being driven deeper with every syllable.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to… meet up,” you say, trying to sound casual, like you’re not affected by the fact that he’s with her right now. “You know, for a quick one.”

Elias lets out a soft chuckle, the sound grating against your nerves. “I can’t tonight,” he says, his voice smooth, unbothered. “I’m with my girl.”

The way he says it—my girl—makes your stomach churn. You clench your fists in your lap, nails digging into your palms as the anger simmers just beneath the surface. “Right,” you mutter, trying to sound nonchalant, but the bitterness seeps into your voice anyway. “Of course.”

You can practically hear his smirk through the phone. “Another time,” he says, like it’s no big deal. Like this is just a game to him, and you’re a piece he can move around whenever it suits him.

“Yeah,” you force out, teeth gritting. “Sure. Another time.”

You hang up before he can say anything else, before you can hear the sound of her laugh in the background, or worse—imagine them together. The thought is enough to make your skin prickle with jealousy, the heat rising in your chest, suffocating you.

Before you know it, you're grabbing your keys, slipping on your shoes, and heading out the door. You don’t even bother to think twice. You aren’t the type to back down, not when you want something. And right now, you want Elias. You want to prove to him, to yourself, that whatever he has with her doesn’t compare to what he has with you.

By the time you arrive at his ritzy apartment in Yaletown, your heart is pounding in your chest, nerves and adrenaline mixing together in a volatile cocktail. You stare at the building for a long moment, the reality of what you’re about to do settling in. You shouldn’t be here. You know you shouldn’t be here. But the jealousy is too strong, too consuming, and all you can think about is how badly you need to see him. Need him to see you.

So, you go up the elevator. Up to whatever floor you know he’s on, the one where you can see all of Vancouver in its expensive glory, and you knock.

You stand in front of his door, knuckles still tingling from the knock, heart thundering in your chest. The hallway is eerily quiet, the only sound your own shallow breaths as you wait for him to open the door. And when it finally swings open, there he is—Elias, standing in front of you, shirtless, skin gleaming like he’s been lounging around, maybe with her. The sight of him, so casual, so at ease, only makes the knot in your stomach tighten.

His eyes widen slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. “What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice low but sharp, like he wasn’t expecting you, didn’t want you there. Behind him, you can hear the faint sound of a television, laughter that isn’t his. Her laugh.

Before you can respond, her voice floats from inside the apartment. “Eli? Who is it?”

Your heart clenches painfully, her voice piercing through the air like nails on a chalkboard. She sounds so… comfortable, like she belongs there. Like this is her place, her life, and you’re just an intruder.

Elias’ eyes flick to you, something unreadable passing over his face. He turns slightly, leaning into the doorframe as if shielding you from her view. “It’s nobody, älskling,” he calls back, his voice steady, but the dismissal hits you like a punch to the gut. Nobody. “Give me a minute.”

Your throat tightens as he steps into the hallway, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The distance between you is small, but it feels like a chasm. He doesn’t move closer. Doesn’t reach for you. He just stands there, watching you with that same indifferent look, like you’re something to be dealt with, not someone he wants to see.

“What the hell are you doing here?” His voice is low, but the edge is unmistakable. It stings. But not as much as the jealousy burning inside you, clawing its way up your throat. You swallow hard, trying to keep it together, trying not to let him see how close you are to breaking.

“I needed to see you,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. The truth of it tastes bitter on your tongue. You hate yourself for it, for how desperate you sound. For how desperate you are.

Elias sighs, rubbing his hand along his jaw, the muscles in his arm flexing as he does. You hate how your eyes follow the movement, how even now, when your heart is shattering, you still can’t stop wanting him. “You shouldn’t be here,” he mutters, glancing back at the door like he’s afraid she might overhear. “You know I’m with her tonight.”

That word—her—sends another wave of anger crashing through you, and before you can stop yourself, the words tumble out. “Yeah, I know you’re with her. I saw the Instagram posts. I saw everything.” Your voice cracks on the last word, betraying just how deep the jealousy runs, how much it hurts to see him with someone else, someone who isn’t you.

He frowns, his brows furrowing in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw her at the game, wearing your jersey, looking so damn happy, like she has everything,” you spit, the words tumbling out faster than you can stop them. “Like she has you. And she does, doesn’t she?”

Elias’ face hardens, his jaw clenching as he crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s because she’s my girlfriend,” he says quietly, the calmness in his voice making your stomach twist. “And you’re… not.” The words hit you like a slap in the face, knocking the air from your lungs. "You’re not." Two little words, but they’re enough to unravel the fragile composure you’ve been clinging to. Your entire body goes rigid as the weight of his indifference sinks in. It’s like being plunged into ice water—shocking, numbing, suffocating. Your lips part, but nothing comes out. What can you say? That you know you aren’t his girlfriend? That you know you don’t belong in his world, no matter how hard you try to convince yourself otherwise? That every second of this—of him—feels like borrowed time?

Your chest tightens, jealousy wrapping around your throat like a noose, squeezing until you can barely breathe. You try to swallow it down, to keep the rising panic at bay, but it’s too much. It’s all too much. The sight of him standing there, so cold, so unreachable, while just behind that door, she laughs, probably stretched out on his couch, wearing his jersey, living the life you want. The life you can never have.

Your hands tremble at your sides, and you press them into your thighs, trying to steady yourself. But your knees feel weak, like they might give out beneath you at any second. You hate this. You hate the jealousy coursing through your veins like poison, making you feel small, insignificant, pathetic. You hate how he can do this to you, how easily he can reduce you to this—a broken, jealous mess, standing in his hallway, trying not to fall apart.

“I… I don’t care,” you choke out, though the words taste like a lie. They hang between you, brittle and fragile, crumbling the second they leave your lips. Of course, you care. You care too much. That’s the problem. The jealousy claws at your chest, each breath shallow and ragged as you try to keep the dam from bursting. But it’s too late. The cracks are already there, spidering through your resolve, threatening to split wide open.

Elias just stares at you, his brow furrowed, like he doesn’t quite understand why you’re standing there in front of him, unraveling at the seams. He uncrosses his arms, his posture softening ever so slightly, but his face remains guarded. His silence only makes the jealousy gnaw harder at your insides, like it’s eating you alive from the inside out.

“Why are you with her?” you whisper, your voice trembling, barely audible over the sound of your pounding heartbeat. You hate how vulnerable you sound, hate the way your voice cracks, betraying just how much you’re hurting. But you can’t stop yourself. The words tumble out, desperate and raw, needing to understand. Needing him to say something that makes sense. “Why are you with her when… when you don’t even care about her the way you—” You cut yourself off, biting down on your bottom lip hard enough to taste blood. You can’t say it. You can’t admit it.

Elias’ gaze flicks to the floor, his expression shifting, something like guilt passing over his features. He opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it, like he doesn’t know where to start. The hesitation sets your mind racing. The jealousy swirls around your thoughts, twisting every moment you’ve spent together into something ugly, something tainted. Has any of it been real? Or have you just been fooling yourself in your delusions all along? Is this really all you are to him—a temporary distraction, something to fill the empty spaces between him and her?

“I don’t know,” Elias finally mutters, his voice barely more than a sigh. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see something there, something deeper, something almost sorrowful. But then it’s gone, replaced by that familiar guarded look. “I just… I don’t know.”

The simplicity of his answer, the emptiness of it, sends a wave of frustration crashing over you, mixing with the jealousy already burning in your veins. “That’s it?” you snap, your voice rising, barely able to keep the tremor out of it. “You don’t know? You’re with her, you’ve been with her, but you don’t know why?”

You’re losing control. The words are tumbling out faster than you can stop them, your heart pounding in your chest as the jealousy consumes you, feeding off every tiny piece of doubt, every flicker of uncertainty. You hate how much you want him to give you an answer, to explain why he’s with her and not you, why you’re standing here, outside his door, while she gets to be inside, living the life you’re so desperately clawing for.

“I—” Elias starts, his voice soft, almost apologetic, but you can’t let him finish.

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” The question comes out more like an accusation, the jealousy twisting your insides, making you feel sick to your stomach. “That’s why you’re with her. Because you love her, and I’m just—” You swallow hard, the words catching in your throat. Just what? A fling? A mistake?

“I don’t—” Elias stops, running a hand across his jaw, his expression torn. He lets out a long, frustrated breath, his gaze darting back to the closed door, like he’s afraid she might hear. “It’s not like that,” he says, but his voice is quiet, hesitant, like he doesn’t quite believe it himself.

“Then what is it?” you demand, your voice shaking, barely able to keep the desperation at bay. Your hands clench into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you fight the urge to cry, to scream, to do something other than stand there, unraveling. “Because it sure as hell seems like she has you. She’s got the jersey, she’s got the smile, she’s got the fucking Instagram posts—and what do I have? What the hell do I have, Elias?”

He stares at you, his jaw tight, his eyes flicking between you and the door, like he’s trying to figure out what to say, but can’t. The silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating, and you feel yourself breaking, the dam inside you cracking wide open.

“You can’t even say it, can you?” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you’ve been holding back for so long. “You can’t even admit that you don’t care about her the way you—” You stop, choking on the words, unable to say what you so desperately want to hear.

Elias lets out another sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly, and for the first time, he looks tired. Tired of this, tired of you, tired of the mess you’ve both made of whatever this is. His eyes meet yours, and there’s something there—something almost sad. But it’s not enough. It’s not nearly enough.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he finally mutters, his voice low, almost resigned.

You let out a shaky breath, your heart pounding in your chest as the jealousy twists and tangles inside you, tightening its grip until it feels like you’re going to burst. “I want you to say you feel something,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “Anything. Just… anything.”

But he doesn’t. He just stands there, his face blank, his silence louder than any words he could have said. And that silence—it shatters you. It breaks you into pieces so small you don’t even know if you can put yourself back together again.

“I can’t do this,” you finally choke out, the tears you’ve been holding back for so long spilling over, hot and fast, burning as they slide down your cheeks. You swipe at them angrily, hating yourself for breaking in front of him, for letting him see just how much he’s destroyed you. But there’s no stopping it now. The dam has broken, and the jealousy, the hurt, the love—it all comes rushing out in a tidal wave of emotion you can’t control.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you whisper again, your voice cracking, barely able to hold yourself together as you look up at him, your heart in pieces at his feet. “I thought I could, but I can’t. I love you, Elias. And I hate it. I fucking hate that I love you, and you can’t even—” You stop, choking on the sob that rips through you, your whole body trembling with the force of it.

Elias’ face softens, his brows drawing together in something that almost looks like regret, but it’s too late. You’re too far gone. You’re already falling apart, the jealousy and heartbreak swallowing you whole.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, his voice low, almost tender, but it only makes the pain worse. Because sorry isn’t enough. Sorry doesn’t fix anything. Sorry doesn’t make you her.

You shake your head, the tears blurring your vision, making it hard to see him. “Yeah,” you whisper, your voice hollow, broken. “Me too.”

*** The rain starts falling in steady sheets, drumming against the window as you sit curled up on the couch, staring blankly at the TV screen. The flickering images mean nothing, just background noise to the storm inside your mind. You’ve lost track of how long you’ve been sitting there, wrapped in one of Elias’ old hoodies. The fabric is worn and soft, smelling faintly like him—like cedar and soap, like something familiar and heartbreaking all at once.

You hate that you still wear it. Hate that you can’t let go, even when you know you should. Even when you know it’s over. He chose her. He made that painfully clear, standing there in that hallway, his eyes darting between you and the door where she waited for him. And yet, here you are, clinging to the last scraps of him, like they could somehow make up for everything you’ve lost.

The rain blurs against the window, much like the tears you’re too tired to shed. You feel hollow now, emptied of all the anger, the jealousy, the heartbreak that consumed you. All that’s left is a dull ache, a quiet sorrow that settles deep in your chest, heavy and unmovable.

A knock at the door pulls you from your thoughts, sharp and unexpected in the quiet of your apartment. Your heart stutters in your chest, a flicker of hope igniting even though you tell yourself not to feel it. It can’t be him. It won’t be. And yet, as you stand and pad to the door, every step feels weighted with anticipation, your fingers trembling as they curl around the handle.

You open it to find Elias standing on the other side, the beanie on his head damp from the rain, droplets clinging to his jacket. He looks like he hasn’t slept, his eyes dark and tired, his expression unreadable as he stares at you in the dim light of the hallway.

For a long moment, neither of you says anything. You just stand there, your heart pounding in your ears, waiting for him to speak, to say something that would make sense of all this. But he doesn’t. He just looks at you, like he’s seeing you for the first time, like the weight of his silence might crush you both.

“Can I come in?” he asks finally, his voice low, hesitant, as if he’s afraid of your answer.

You should say no. You should slam the door in his face, walk away, leave him standing there in the rain. But you don’t. Instead, you step aside, the words caught in your throat, and let him in.

He moves past you, his presence filling the small space with a tension you can feel in your bones. He stops in the middle of the room, glancing around like he’s searching for something, maybe the right words, maybe some kind of explanation. But all you can do is stand there, your hands gripping the hem of your hoodie, his hoodie, trying to steady yourself.

“I broke it off with her,” Elias says quietly, his back still to you, the words hanging in the air like they might shatter the second they leave his mouth.

You blink, your mind struggling to catch up with what he’s said. The rain beats harder against the window, filling the silence between you, a reminder of the storm both outside and within.

“What?” Your voice sounds foreign, small, like it isn’t even your own.

Elias turns slowly, his eyes meeting yours, and you see it then—the sorrow, the regret, the weight of everything that’s passed between you. He takes a step toward you, his movements cautious, like he’s not sure if you’ll let him get any closer.

“I broke it off with her,” he repeats, more firmly this time, his gaze steady, unwavering. “I know there was an agreement, but itt wasn’t fair to her. It wasn’t fair to you. I should’ve done it sooner, but… I was scared.”

Scared. That word echoes in your mind, bouncing off the walls of the tiny apartment, wrapping around you like a vise. What did he have to be scared of? He’s the one who had control, who made you feel like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for him to decide if you were worth saving.

“You hurt me,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, the rawness of the admission surprising even you.

“I know.” Elias steps closer, his hands slipping into his pockets, his posture uncertain, like he’s not sure what to do with himself. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The apology should feel like relief. It should feel like something breaking free inside of you, but instead, it only makes the ache in your chest grow heavier. “You can’t just… say sorry and think it fixes everything,” you murmur, turning away from him, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Elias doesn’t respond right away. The weight of his silence feels almost unbearable, pressing down on you like gravity. Then, after what feels like an eternity, you hear him take a deep breath, his footsteps soft on the floor as he moves closer.

“I know I can’t fix it,” he says quietly, his voice so soft it’s almost lost beneath the sound of the rain. “But I don’t want to lose you.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind from your lungs. You turn slowly, meeting his gaze, searching for any hint of the indifference you’d seen before. But it’s not there. Not now. Now, his eyes are filled with something else, something raw and honest, something that makes your breath catch in your throat.

“I love you.” The words spill from his lips, quiet but sure, like he’s been holding them back for too long. “I love you, and I’m sorry it took me this long to realize it. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Your chest tightens, a rush of emotions surging through you so fast you can barely process them. You want to believe him. You want to fall into his arms and let those words heal all the wounds he’s left behind. But the scars are still there, fresh and painful, a reminder of everything that came before.

“I don’t… I don’t know if I can do this,” you whisper, your voice trembling as the tears you held back earlier threaten to return.

Elias closes the distance between you in two quick steps, his hands reaching for yours. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver through you, the familiarity of it both comforting and heartbreaking all at once.

“Please,” he murmurs, his voice low, desperate. “I’m not asking for everything. I just… I need you to know how much you mean to me. I need you to know that I choose you.”

You look up at him, your heart pounding in your chest, the weight of his words sinking in slowly. He chooses you. After everything, after all the hurt and confusion, he’s standing here now, choosing you. But is it enough?

His fingers tighten around yours, pulling you gently toward him until you’re close enough to feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. “I know I don’t deserve another chance,” he whispers, his forehead resting against yours, his voice thick with emotion. “But I love you. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you, if you let me.”

After what feels like an eternity, you nod, a single, tentative movement. “Okay.”

Elias lets out a breath, like he’s been holding it in for hours, and without another word, he closes the distance between you, wrapping his arms around you in a way that feels both familiar and brand new. The warmth of him, the solid weight of his chest against yours, makes something inside you unclench, like you’re finally able to breathe again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your hair, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you believe him. Finally.

[kotaabotaa]

Our spot

Paring; Joel Miller x F!reader

Word Count; 2.2k

Warnings; age gap (not said how big in the story so make it your own) unprotected p in v (guys don't do this!), creampie, wet mentions, reader rides Joel, missionary, pet names (baby, etc.) kind of public sex? vaginal fingering, teasing, sappy, established relationship

A/N; this is my first smut story! Decided to post this on Joel’s and my birthday! this was a bit rushed so sorry if the ending was rushed as well. I apologize if I didn't include all warnings. I'll try to do better in the future. I'm still new to this, so please feel free to comment. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

—————————-︵‿୨♡୧‿︵—————————

You and Joel were having your weekly movie night. His arm was slung around your shoulder as you cuddled close to him, a small bowl of popcorn separating you two. Later in the afternoon, Joel turned his gaze to face you on the couch. "Wanna go to the beach?" he said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. You considered for a moment, but then a better idea popped into your head. "How about our spot? It could be fun."

Our spot: a beautiful waterfall hidden behind palm trees at the beach. You both loved that spot and always had picnics there. It was just gorgeous. Joel smiled and nodded, standing up from the couch and taking your hand as you gathered some blankets and snacks. It was convenient having you and Joel's spot so close to your house that it was within walking distance.

As soon as you arrived, Joel scooped you up, holding your legs around his waist. You couldn't help but let out a small laugh and press your forehead against his, kissing his nose gently. Joel let out a chuckle. After a moment, he carried you over to the pond by the waterfall. Gently, Joel sat down on the ground with you straddling his hips, letting out a small grunt. He took off his shoes and dipped his legs into the water.

When he gets comfortable, Joel starts to kiss you deeply and passionately, which catches you off guard a bit. Joel pulls away from the kiss and catches his breath, looking at you lustfully. His grip on your waist tightens as he slides his hands down to your hips. You linger by his lips and tilt your head slightly. “Why’d you stop??” you ask curiously, voice soft and lips a bit swollen from kissing. Joel smiles, his eyes half-lidded with lust and his face glowing in the moonlight. “Can we..” He trails off as he gently reaches up to caress your cheek with his thumb. You raise an eyebrow and smile at him unknowingly. “Yes?” He leans in closer to your face. Tightening his grip on your hips as his voice drops to a whisper. “Y/N, I need you,” “Here..?” You ask nervously. Once you finally realize he was being 100% serious you rolled your eyes and nodded hesitantly. “Fine, but if we get caught it’s your fault.” You say half-heartily, whispering against his lips. “Fine by me,” He says playfully and kneeds your thighs through your dress.

Joel gently lifts you off his lap, pulling the blanket out and laying it on the ground. He tries to get the blanket to feel as comfortable as possible on the hard rock floor, and then he places you down on the blanket, hovering over you. Joel places his forearms on either side of your head and leans down to kiss you deeply, slipping his tongue into your mouth. Your eyes flutter shut as you open your mouth slightly, letting his tongue tangle with your own. You wrap your legs around his hips as you kiss him deeply, Your arms wrapping around the back of his neck to pull him closer. Joel flips you over so you’re straddling his hips again, still kissing you as he does this. You feel a bulge in his pants and it instantly makes your stomach do flips. Joel snakes his hand down to the bottom of your dress, lifting it slightly and placing his palm against your underwear, which is wet from your arousal. He will smile against your lips, “All for me? M’ flattered.” Joel teases as he slips his hand under your underwear, playing with your folds gently.

He’ll slide your underwear off and place it on the blanket before guiding his fingers back to where they were. You reach your hands up and place them on his shoulders from behind, gripping them tightly. Joel smiles and presses himself closer to you, making sure there’s no space between you two as he inserts a finger inside of you slowly.

You let out a small moan, leaning down and hiding your blushing face in his neck. Your nails dig into his back which makes him wince slightly at the pain and insert another finger, making you squirm in pleasure. You moan in his ear as your breathing gets heavier. “Let me see your face..” He whispers teasingly as he twists his fingers, making you moan a bit louder in pleasure. You hesitate and lift your head, looking at him with half-lidded eyes. You gasp, your back arching against him as you moan out. “Joel, faster..” You whisper in embarrassment. Eyes fluttering shut, focusing on the pleasure. Joel kisses you deeply as he thrusts his fingers faster, curling them up to hit the spot that makes you moan the most. You cry out in pleasure against his lips and grip him tightly, your hips involuntarily moving against his fingers. Your head falls forward when you grip him tighter, your face hidden again. He groans in frustration and reaches his free hand up to pinch your chin gently, lifting your head to look at him. “Come on, you can do it..” He encourages as he sees you, a whimpering and quivering mess.

Joel scissors his fingers inside of you, stretching you out. Your whines and moans get more desperate and eager, but he knows you’re close and doesn’t stop he goes faster. He takes his hand off your chin and covers your mouth loosely, making sure you didn’t get caught. “Oh, I know..” He coos. Your eyes roll back in pleasure as you finally finish on his fingers. His smile will get wider, taking his hand off your mouth and back down to your chin. Joel removes his fingers from inside you, bringing them up to his lips and sucking on them, tasting your juices. You watch his movements carefully, tilting your head down to kiss the pad thumb. He pulls his fingers out of his mouth, staring at you with that lustful gaze again. You squirm in his lap, feeling his hardness against your now-exposed opening.

Joel lets out a chuckle before leaning down to kiss you tenderly. You hesitate when finally reaching down to unbuckle his belt. Joel opens his eyes, raising an eyebrow. He reaches his hands down around your wrist, stopping your movements. You pull away from the kiss to tilt your head curiously at him. “What’s the magic word?” He teases and laughs when you let out a groan, “Cut it out, Joel.” You mumble, trying to wiggle your hands out of his grasp. Joel tightens his grip ever so slightly. “I’m being serious, pretty girl..” Your stomach does flips at the nickname. Of course, he’s called you that before, but every time it makes you melt and he knows it. You can’t help but let out a sigh and lean in to kiss him. Your body still trembling from the pleasure seconds ago. “Please, baby..” You beg. Joel tilts his head and smirks. Letting go of your wrists and letting you undo his belt carefully, “As you wish.” He mumbles when pressing a kiss to your forehead. You undo his belt and pull down his jeans, lifting yourself slightly on your knees so you can take them off.

You feel his gaze on you when you place his jeans and belt in the pile where your underwear is. You lower yourself back down on his hips and trace his hardness with your finger, making his breath hinge as he moans. You smile warmly, innocently even, and look back into his eyes before your gaze settles on his lips. Joel groans and crashes his lips into yours, both of your eyes shutting tightly. He reaches up and kneads your breast through your dress, still kissing you with fervor. He moans lowly which sends shivers down your spine. His eyes flutter open as well as yours. You press your forehead against his, “Off.” Joel murmurs against your lips sternly. You blush wildly as you feel him practically rip off your dress, leaving you in only your bra.

The moonlight radiated against your now naked body, making your skin shimmer. You look down at him, feeling him get as hard as a rock in his boxers. It surprised you because you didn’t think he could get any harder, but he proved you wrong…. as always. A lustful smile appeared on his face as he started to take off his boxers. You look down at him in pure awe as you see his throbbing, hard member spring up from his boxers. Joel’s mouth met yours again, but this time he used a bit more force. You gasp lightly, not expecting how badly he needed this. You feel him slide his tip against your entrance, making you moan against his lips.

Joel took a deep breath and lined himself up with your entrance. "Breathe," he whispers, his voice strained with desire. "I'm going to go slow, okay? Tell me if it hurts..” You’d done this uncountable times before, but every time he made you feel safe and calm. You loved that about Joel.

You wrap your arms around the back of his neck and adjust your body over him, giving him a nod. You shudder at the feeling of his cock pressed against you. With gentle pressure, Joel began to push forward, his thick girth stretching your opening. Joel paused as he hit resistance, giving you a moment to adjust, his hands gripping your hips. "You're so tight," he grunts out with his jaw clenched, his face contorting in pleasure. You grip him tighter, feeling lightheaded from the painful stretch.

As soon as you adjust you sink on his cock fully, letting out a lewd moan against his ear, “Joel..” A guttural moan escapes him as he's fully sheathed inside you. Joel bottoms out for a moment, savoring the feeling of your tight, wet heat enveloping him. Then, he starts to move, lifting you by your hips slowly before thrusting back into the hilt. You gasp, moving your hands up to run through his hair. You tilt your head forward to bury in the crook of his neck. You move up and down on his cock, letting moans and gasp draw out longer because you know how much he likes them. Your eyes flutter open, glancing down at his arms flexing as he lifts you up and down.

Joel grunts with each upward thrust, his hand moving to the small of your back to steady you. Joel’s teeth sank into his bottom lip, feeling his climax approaching. He slid his thumb between you to rub your clit, pushing you closer toward your release. You gasp. His grip on your hips tightens as he picks up the pace, thrusting deeper and harder. Joel leans in to capture your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, muffling your moans and whimpers. He breaks the kiss to gasp, "Come for me, Y/N...” You whine against his lips, feeling yourself get closer to cumming with each bounce and thrust. Your head tilts back and you grip him as you cum on his cock. He groans out in pleasure as your walls will clench around him, triggering his orgasm. With a few more hard, deep thrusts, he buried himself to the hilt and came inside you, filling you with his cum. You moan and tilt your head forward, panting and whimpering as you ride out your orgasm.

Joel wraps his arms around you protectively, holding you close as you both come down from your intense high. He presses soft, comforting kisses to your forehead, cheeks, and lips, murmuring soothing words as he gently rocks you. "I love you so much,” Joel mumbles as you kiss him back. “I love you so much more. Are you feeling okay?” You ask lovingly. Your eyes flutter open and you see him smiling warmly at you. When he smiles, it could light up a room, making anyone smile as well. Joel reaches up to cup your cheek, gently rubbing it with his thumb. "I’m more than okay." You smile and move your hand over his to kiss his palm. “Do you think we should head back now? It’s getting kinda late.” Joel kisses you, giving you an unspoken yes. He helps you get dressed, his eyes never leaving your shimmering skin. You blush when you feel his gaze on you. You pull on your bra and underwear, followed by your dress and shoes. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask sarcastically with a tilt of your head. He pulls you closer, running his large hands through your hair. "You're so beautiful." He kisses the tip of your nose before releasing you. You roll your eyes and pull him closer by his shirt, kissing him deeply. You pull away to reach for his pile of clothes, handing them to him. “You gonna get dressed?” Joel rolls his eyes at you, nodding and grabbing the clothes from you.

After getting dressed, he lifts you off your feet and hugs you. You look up at him with happiness, tilting your head slightly, and say, "I love you, Joel." "I love you more, Y/N," he replies. You gather all your things, like the blankets and snacks, before finally walking home, laughing and kissing each other along the way, like a couple of teenagers in love. As soon as you arrive home, he holds you close. You and Joel go to your room, cuddle, and fall asleep for the night.

[ofmdrecaps]

09/23-25/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Kristian Nairn: Beyond The Throne Release!; Rhys Darby; Leslie Jones; Rachel House; CW: Roaches: Samba Schutte; Vico Ortiz; Lindsey Cantrell; Crew For Life Hoody; Adopt Our Crew: Prompts/Research; Bi+Sexuality Day; Watch Party Reminders; Fan Spotlight; Love Notes;

Hey crew, sorry I've been completely exhausted the last few days, having to be up early with kiddo and drive down to see my dad + crazy work hours. I am just... flat out of it, sorry! Trying to get caught up today, this is going to be a 3 dayer to try and catch up quickly. Hope you all are doing well and having fun honking!

== Kristian Nairn ==

On September 23, Kristan's Beyond the Throne was finally released!!!

Kristan was on NBCNews and Pix11News!

Source: Kristian Nairn's Instagram

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Kristian was featured in the New York Post and Screenrant!

A lot of the crew has been expressing excitement for the book!

Still looking for a copy? Maybe a signed copy? You can grab one on his linktree!

== Rhys Darby ==

Sept 23rd was Rhys and Rosie's 27th anniversary! Happy Anniversary you two!

Speaking of Rhys and Rosie -- Friday Sept 27, Rhys and Rosie will be doing an episode together!

Source: David Booth's Twitter

Rhys is going to be taking a big part in BadJelly! (Guess who else is there? Pop Pop (Cohen Halloway!)

Source: BadJellyTv / Rosie's IG

Are you gonna be in LA on Oct 1? You can check out Rhys' "Saying Funny Things Society" at the Largo Los Angelos! Get tickets here.

Source: Rhys Darby's Twitter

== Leslie Jones ==

Leslie's off to see the yankees!

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Source: Leslie's Instagram

== Vico Ortiz ==

For Latine Heritage Month, Vico was featured in a Glaad article!

Source: Adopt Our Crew Twitter

== Samba Schutte ==

There's quite a lot of speculation going around because of how active Samba is regarding AoNZ and OFMD....he's been sharing a LOT of @adoptourcrew's Glaad Media Awards stories...

And reminding us he went to New Zealand 2 years ago...

And.. what is with these Roaches in a box? Some folks have said... 3 pictures = S3, some have said they see S3 in the roaches themselves. What do you think?

Source: Samba's Instagram Stories

PS: I love that the Advanced Chemistry Movie Socials are clowning with us all.

Source: AdvancedChemistry Twitter

== Rachel House ==

Can it be? Is The Mountain finally coming to dvd and digital! Apparently! Oct 2 is the day in the US - AoNZ Oct 1!

Source: TeMaunga's Instagram == Linds Cantrell ==

Lindsey with a new Haircut!

Source: Linds Cantrell's Instagram Stories

== Crew For Life Hoody ==

Final hours for the ShopStands Crew For Life Hoodie!

Source: ShopStands.com

== Adopt Our Crew ==

Our crewmates over at @adoptourcrew have been trying to keep engagement gowing with a couple prompts! If you have twitter please hit them up, they'd love to hear from you!

Source: AOC's Twitter

Source: AOC Twitter

Our Friends over at @adoptourcrew also put together some cool research regarding shows that have been picked up by Netflix! Check it out here!

Source: AOC Tumblr

== Watch Party Reminders ==

Sept 26 is the end of Season 1 of OFMD with @adoptourcrew and @astroglideofficial!

Source: Adopt Our Crew Twitter

== Articles ==

The Mary Sue put an article out about the OFMD Cancellation, but it caused a little controversy because of this glaring error:

If you wanna check the article out below here it is:

Source: Sorry I can't remember who I found it from initially!

== Bi+Sexuality Day ==

Happy very belated Bi+ Sexuality day! As always-- you are seen, you are valued, you are valid; no matter who you've chosen to partner with, or who you've been with in the past. So much love your way lovelies <3

Source: Glaad Instagram

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Our Flag Means Fanfiction =

New Episode of Our Flag Means Fanfiction-- this time The Fluff Episode! Check it out on their linktr.ee!

And new episode of Gay Pirate News Hour on October 5th! Check it out on Our Flag Means Fanfiction Youtube!

Source: Our Flag Means Fanfiction Instagram

== Love Notes ==

Alrighty lovelies, I wanted to get so much more done today but I ran out of picture room and I'm catching up on so many things so everything is behind. I want you to know that you are doing a great job out there. Not just with clowning/honking, but with life in general. Things keep happening, and you keep on kicking, and that means so much to me, so much to your crew! We care so deeply about you and so when you succeed, or you struggle, we want to be there with you every time. <3

This world is hard, but you keep being kind regardless, and we're so proud of you for that. Sending so much love crew <3

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Source: Katie Abey's Instagram

[gwydionmisha]

Personal: Home just in Time to Catch COVID for the first time

Apparently Squirrel's been unwell for three days, were out of tests and forgot to ask me where they were, kept wandering around maskless to chat with me because they missed me and we needed to coordinate on stuff.

I was slightly sneezy right before bed, but attributed it to air quality and being out in it yesterday.  Woke up very sick and immediately went to test before contacting Millennials to warn them off, because i do not fuck around.  I was trying to get back to sleep when Squirrel came to ask about tests.  Mine was likely false negative because the infection was so new.

So yeah.  Quarantine here.

I was able to get an appointment very early tomorrow, so that's something.  Bad news is, Doctor told me to wait for the booster until after the trip and I was intended to go today.  I effectively likely don't have much if any immunity and it feels like someone is sitting on my chest.

I told my Doctor at the beginning of the pandemic that my goal was to try to avoid catching it for two years, which was the initial guestimate for a vaccine. I made it 4 years 7 months. Nearly 8. Two or is it three of my millennials still have never had it. I suppose I should count it a win, but I'm pissed, especially as if I'd ignored Doctor's orders or stayed south a little longer or if squirrel had been more careful when I got home, I'd be okay. My chronic illness and lung stuff are already hugely debilitating. I don't need extra chronic illness on top.

I had planned to put as much time and energy as I could into catching up the stuff I didn't post before leaving, the stuff I missed, and the firehouse of new stuff I queued last night. No clue what I'll be able to do, as I literally never had COVID before.

I beg of you wash your hands. Wear your mask.

[thenightfolknetwork]

As a person of evident good judgement, I'm sure you're familiar with the works of the late, great Sir Terry Pratchett. He has the rare skill of mixing philosophy and politics into his comedy, it's quite delightful.

One such example is in his novel 'Going Postal'. He introduces the idea that, “A man’s not dead while his name is still spoken.” It's a beautiful sentiment. But I must confess, some of the shine has worn off it for me in recent years.

I'll cut to the chase: I died of typhoid fever in 49CE. And I mean died. I was done and gone and passed, leaving no more ripples on the surface of the world than any other Joe Nobody. My name had been long forgotten, the stone marking my grave long since worn away.

And then, to my surprise, I returned.

It started slowly, a gradual stirring of awareness. Then, in a great crashing wave, I arrived – full and real and vibrant, as alive as I had been before my sickness.

I've since learnt that there was an archaeological dig near my old home a few years ago. They discovered the stone, deciphered it despite the wear. My name returned to the world - and I returned with it.

At first I was just being mentioned in academic circles, cited here and there. Nothing dramatic.

But then hen, a writer named a character after me in a miniseries about Roman Britain. My name was on millions of lips - apparently I'm something of a fan favourite.

But I've seen the programme and it's all wrong! The character is nothing like me, for starters. And the life they've painted… Well, it is a good effort, I suppose. But it is not my life.

This is to say nothing of the fan interpretation. They barely seem to care about the text of the show at all! They extrapolate wildly, especially about my relationship with a certain centurion. The two of us share barely more than a minute or two of screen time!

I don't mind being back, per se. I enjoyed being alive, and I'm enjoying being back - especially the chance to catch up on my reading.

How can I correct the people's misinterpretations of me and my life? Or should I just let it go and enjoy my resurgence - however long it might last?

First of all, reader, congratulations on returning to this plane of existence. Unexpected as this return might be, I'm glad you're still finding ways to enjoy this new lease on… not life, exactly, but something rather like it.

I can well imagine how frustrating it might be to see people attaching your name and identity to an otherwise fictional character. But I think emphasising that difference is the first step in coming to terms with the situation.

This writer has shown a remarkable commitment to authenticity by choosing the name of a real Roman Briton to use in their screenplay. But seeking to create authentic fiction is a very different ambition than seeking to create a fully accurate representation of past events and the people who lived them.

I wish I could tell you that the viewers of this programme will understand this difference. Many will, but it is an unfortunate truth that people often take historical dramas at face value and may not fully appreciate just how much of what they see has been at most tenuously inspired by historical research, and more likely invented whole cloth by the writers themselves.

But this is a misinterpretation of a television programme, not of you. These viewers are engaging with a piece of fiction, not with you as a real, historical person. This is especially true of those viewers who “extrapolate wildly” about the relationships between fictional character. They aren't misinterpreting you – they're creating their own fictions, inspired by the fiction they've consumed.

With that said, many fans of historical fiction are also interested in actual historical research. If you really want to educate people about life in Roman Britain, the fans of this programme might be a particularly receptive audience. You could try posting on social media about your experiences, using the events in the programme as a jumping off point for your discussion of real history.

Do tread carefully, though. You need to keep a clear distinction between yourself as a real, historical figure and the character who bears your name. You aren't trying to “correct” the television programme or criticise its portrayal, but rather offering your reflections as additional insights for anyone who might be interested.

Please remember though, you are under no obligation to engage with this fan community at all. I see no reason at all why you can't simply leave them to their extrapolations, and concentrate on enjoying yourself for as long as you're with us.

[rosedere]

The Antique Pearl (Ghost! Azul Ashengrotto x fem reader)

CW: Soft Yandere, NRC is a university AU, implied sex (later chapters), Mentions of Ghosts

Summary: You find a job along the large network of piers on Sage’s Island, but you didnt know you would catch the attention of a ghost who lives in your small Thrift shop you manage.

Cross posted on AO3 as well! :D

Chapters: 1. Job hunt (you are here), Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13,

-

“So (name) found a job yet?”

You scowled in response dropping your perfectly manicured brow in a scrunch before flipping your hand out at Ace across from you at the table.

"Hey, have you found a girlfriend yet?” You sarcastically replied.

“You answer first,” your fiery red-head friend said now smiling before letting his hand rest under his chin.

“I’m going to say no for my answer,” you answered, rolling your eyes. “And I’m going to assume it’s a no for you too,” you smirked.

"Oi, I’m just asking because no one’s called me back yet, and I’d rather die than work in the dining hall all semester with Ortho and Grim,” he said, swirling his spoon in his brightly colored sundae.

Ace Trappola was one of your five friends you talked to on a regular basis, mostly because you all attended the same prestigious college on Sage’s island, unintentionally forming the “freshman group” some people nicknamed in lectures, half of you at first werent friends with each other only sitting next to each other in the same classes you shared. 

But then the familiarity in the large university got everyone to begin to talk to one another. You being the oldest out of the group and the only "ma'am,” you practically kept the group knitted together.

You and Ace were the first two of the friends from your group to arrive at your usual hangout spot, a diner tucked away next to the docks and piers, with various boats lining the way.

Epel had said he and Jack were almost there, while Duece wasn’t going to arrive until later, after his interview wrapped up on the other side of the harbor. Sebek wasn’t here yet, but knowing him, he was probably still asleep and would come rushing in 20 minutes later, cursing Silver's name for not waking him up on time who was also most likely asleep against the headboard of their shared dorm.

"Well, it seems like we gotta do another walk around the pier today,” you declared to no one in particular.

Ace looked over at you with the shit-eating grin he always had when he had a remark in mind. Your face immediately forming a frown.

“Maybe they’ll take pity on us if you say you're a single mom,” Ace cheekily said.

“I know you were screwing around, but I think that might be my next sales pitch.” You sighed.

Defeated, you looked out the window, absentmindedly eating a crispy fry from the blue basket in front of the both of you.

However, before you could look out and daydream while watching the same ten seagulls glare at you from outside the rope-lined pier, a blur of green and blue passed your line of sight.

Confused about what you had just seen, you looked out the window towards the entrance of the diner to see on the otherside of the entrance Jack and Epel casually walking in, opposite from where the flash of green was charging at an immense speed.

Then you heard the crash.

Ace finally caught on to what just happened, but you were still trying to figure out how fast Deuce and Sebek were running to knock Jack completely over into a decorated potted plant near the entrance of the diner.

“I WON THAT ONE DEUCE; LOOK, MY FOOT IS OVER THE ENTRANCE THRESHOLD,” your green-haired friend huffed, scrambling to get up.

Deuce, however, was completely flustered, realizing he was sprawled over Epel, who looked at the two of them with a huff.

“Epel, are you okay?” Your beastman friend said aloud, pushing the loud green-haired boy off of him.

“Yeah, let’s just get inside before we have to pay for the damages,” Epel told the three of them, getting up.

The delightful shipyard bell above the door signaled the rest of your group's arrival.

Of course, looking over to Ace, you could tell he was already cooking up a fierce roast to throw at Deuce and Sebek as they quickly took their seats at the circular booth you and Ace were sitting at.

Feeling the violent shift in the red pleather curved booth from the weight of Jack and Sebek taking their seats first before Epel and Duece squeezed into their usual spots at the end of the booth, leaving you and Ace sitting together as usual.

“So what in the otome was up with that?” Ace teased 

“I’m pretty sure there was going to be an overlay of pink cherry blossoms over Epel and Jack, with a dialogue box popping up over that scene outside,” Ace giggled.

“I’d say you should ask those two; we were just walking when we got trampled.” Jack gestured towards Sebek and Deuce.

“He started it! I was just running from the heartslaybul dorm when Sebek started to run after me, charging me,” Duece wined before grabbing a fry from the basket and rubbing his elbows.

“I WAS SIMPLY TRYING TO CATCH UP TO YOU, BUT YOU KEPT RUNNING PAST ME,” Sebek said with his usual booming voice.

For a moment, you all bantered, catching up with each other since you had all been on break after the spring semester ended.

But with the summer semester starting up again, you all reunited last week on the mostly empty campus.

"Oh, right before we get too distracted, did anyone find a job yet?” You asked everyone around the table.

Everyone around the table sighed.

“No”

"Okay, I guess we can safely say what we’re going to do after lunch,” you sighed.

“TO BE FAIR, I HEARD FROM SILVER THAT THERE ARE JOBS OFF CAMPUS,” Sebek once again yelled to you all, causing Epel to cover his ear.

"Yeah, but not at the pier; I don’t want to work on a farm anymore,” Epel said, twirling his hair with a perfectly manicured nail. “Vil would never let me live that one down if he found out,” he sighed.

Just as soon as all of your banter began, it silenced once the waitress came around to get everyone’s order before retreating back to the kitchen.

"Well, I mean, there’s still 14 more days until our deadline; who knows, maybe there might be more jobs today,” you enthusiastically announced, trying to motivate your friends.

They all still remained unmotivated, however, until Duece spoke up.

"Yeah, that is true (name). The summer carnival is coming up soon, around the middle of the month. We can get guaranteed jobs then." Duece then proceeded to reach towards the basket of fries in the middle of the table.

Of course, Ace quickly pushed the basket to the side, leaving poor Deuce to just grab the air where the fry would be.

“H-hey!” Duece exclaimed, staring down at Ace, who was now passing the fries to everyone at the table except for Duece.

You knew today was going to be the start of an eventful summer day with your friends compared to last semester.

-

The walk down the longest pier on the island was becoming more and more familiar to the five of you all.

Ace leading the group, followed by Duece and Sebek, who follow close behind the bright, vermillion-haired boy, with Jack and Epel behind those two in front of you, close to the end of the group.

So far, it seemed there were more for hire signs out today, which you all went to eagerly fill out the applications or took a break from the heat to fill out online applications on your phones.

“Hey Ace haven’t we already been down this way today?” Duece spoke up, looking around at the surrounding colorful stalls.

"Yeah, we have, but you never know, maybe the churro stand might be hiring,” Ace said, looking off towards the horizon.

“She’s not interested, Ace,” Epel replied softly.

Ace abruptly stops almost tripping duece, and Sebek following far too close behind the stunned boy.

“How would you know, Epel?” 

Epel made a sly expression in response.

“Because I banged her last night,” he casually threw out. Everyone giggling around Epel.

"Yeah, and I banged your mom last night, and she wasn’t interested at first,” Ace wiped at his nose.

The laughter and “oh snaps” that erupted from the boys in front of you was blusterous. You could only stand there shaking your head thinking about how Epel had walked into that one; everyone knew saying anything to the fast-thinking Ace was literal suicide unless you beat him to the punch.

As you took the opportunity to take the lead of the group, you were faced with a crossroad you called it on the sprawling pier as you kept walking ahead.

You had all been up and down the straight path of the creaky,hole-ridden path leading to the end of the entertainment district of the pier. 

However, there was a left path of pier leading to the street that had old buildings lined up that you don’t think you’d ever walked towards, or at least never really paid any attention to.

As you walked down the street, you could see the contrast from the weathered wooden scape that was the pier to the rustic, whimsical coastal buildings lined with various boutiques, restaurants, and residential buildings, all in unique shapes but mostly in the same weathered red and sun-faded blue.

But as you strolled along, a building like none other you’ve seen on the street appeared before you.

A two-story building between an abandoned lot and a tourist gift shop seemed to be one of the original buildings that were built here since Sages Island was founded. It had what you’d call a Victorian Seashell aesthetic going on, being a dusty lavender color either from the sun hitting the paint for so many years or just needing a new paint job on the entire outdoor building. 

Your eyes next followed the side of the building, where a big sign was hanging on the side of the window in the shape of a clam shell with a pearl in the middle and neon lights lining the design.

“The Antique Pearl” was what the sign letters read as you got closer to the building on the street.

Remembering your group of friends, you turned to look around for your friends to make sure they were following behind. 

They were a considerable distance from you, seemingly going back to their previous roast session they had started while you were busy looking at the building.

Walking up to the building, briskly closing the distance between the buildings, and passing an ally where a lonesome black-railed staircase led up to the business that was above the shop, you finally reached the storefront window.

You expected to see a display in the window, but instead were greeted with a look into the actual interior of the place.

Racks and racks of various sizes and lengths were littered around the cool blue-toned lighting, and the various clothes were packed tightly together like sardines in a can.

You looked towards the wall, which was a circular rack. The clothes seemed to catch your eye, but suddenly the back of a man was seen blocking the particular patch of clothes you were about to examine. 

Normally you wouldn’t think much about it, but the way this particular man looked and dressed was definitely different.

He wore a pristine, crisp white dress shirt with black and purple suspenders holding his dark dress pants. His hair was as silver as a full moon, giving him an ethereal look. It was styled in a neatly trimmed undercut, from what you could tell.

To you, he was incredibly handsome; despite just seeing the backside of him, you could tell his face was probably as defined as his back looked. 

A chill arose from your back, causing you to shake. It was very out of place since it had to be at least 33 degrees Celsius outside under the June sun.

Looking around to see if you were maybe in the shade to verify why the sudden drop in temperature was only met with no rational answer.

You thought to yourself that it might be anemia, looking back at the man you assumed was an employee.

He was now standing still, stopping his task of presumably hanging clothes. Ever so hesitantly, his head turned towards the window you were staring in from.

Crap you must have been checking him out for too long, worriedly thought.

As much as you wanted to back away and run back to the pier where your friends were probably looking for you, a force was the best way you could describe it; it kept you firmly planted in place in front of the window you were peeking through.

Maybe fear? Maybe curiosity kept you there to see the handsome strangers full face.

Distinctly, the first thing you noticed was his very beautiful side profile, a very boxy-like jawline giving him a very masculine, mature look, making you assume he had to be in his twenties if not older than you, a pair of glasses framing his face, and his unmistakable aquamarine eyes highlighting his recessive features.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there staring at this poor random employee, but he didn’t look annoyed at you staring at him. In the moment, you couldn’t place exactly what the expression was, but it felt like he was trying to figure out if you were staring at him or not. Just as gradual of a time he took to turn around, he twinkled a grin across his pretty lips, revealing what you think was a beauty mark placed on the left side of his chin.

Trying to contain the wildfire of blush running wild on your cheeks, you gave him a polite smile back.

Yeah, I'm so getting the cops called on me.

Unfortunately, before you could soak the image of the man into your memory, a sudden hand was placed on your bare shoulders.

Gasping quickly, you were greeted by someone who wasn’t your friend but strangely looked familiar to you.

He was tall with teal hair, and one strand of black hair lazily sat over his right eye, which was strangely a piercing yellow color while his other eye was a darker color. It also didn’t help that he also had a few lip and face piercings, giving him a distinctive look about the young man. Wearing a suit with a dusky lavender shade as the shop was, you couldn’t help but stare at how tall he was compared to you as he smiled down on you in a cool smile.

“I noticed you were staring very intently at the sign." The mysterious man gestured in front of him.

You didn’t even notice, but in front of you, slightly higher than your forehead, was a sign. 

“Now hiring immediate spot open.”

“Oh—I uh was,” you said, clearing your throat.

-

You found out his name is Jade.

He also attends the university you and your friends go to, along with his brother.Jade tells you this as he takes you into the vast building. 

Jade interviews you in front of the cash register over a glass case where the jewelry that was sort of valuable stayed in.

“So just curious, but why hasn’t anyone applied for store manager yet, if I may ask Jade?” You casually said leaning against the case,

“Because of where the shop currently resides, not a lot of locals come this way, leaving only tourists and the few that do know about our store,” Jade replied. Initially, when you found out that it was a thrift shop, you were surprised, mainly by the fact that you’d never heard of it before in the year you’ve been studying here for school.

“That does make sense—I guess,” being satisfied with the answer you received.

“So (name), what day would you like to start? I’ll unfortunately won’t be able to get your lodging accommodations ready immediately, but—“ 

“Hang on to lodging accommodations?” Your eyes almost bugged out. You were aware you’d pretty much have owner responsibilities, but having a free place to live was an instant success in your book.

“I thought I told you after the questions." Jade tilted his head in curiosity. 

“Here, I can actually show you,” he said, leaning over the glass counter across from you, making a beeline through the cramped space next to the register of vintage clothes.

The floorboards creaked and groaned under the weight of you both walking on them, feeling the vibrations as you eventually reached an employee entrance tucked behind a couple of rooms that you couldn’t quite look into as you passed by. The dark oak stairs were slightly dusty, seeming like no one had been through here in years as you went up the thick wooden stairs behind Jade.

The stairs weren’t well lit, but the beautiful vintage light fixtures seemed to be in need of new lightbulbs.

Jade stopped at the top of what looked like a sturdy house door with intricate wooden engravings of shells on the outside and a golden mail slot that had a scratched off name plate and electrical box on the right side of the crème walls wrapping around the landing.

After a few moments of him fiddling with the rusted, dark ebony key, the door finally opened, kicking up the stagnant air that had presumably been trapped there for years as he held the door open for you to enter.

Now, you weren’t at all one of those ghost and superstition kinds of people, but immediately upon entering the space, it felt creepy.

It was probably how dark the space was to assume there probably hadn’t been running electricity in this particular area in years hell, even decades from the faint piles of dust you could see between the thick boards above what you assumed was the window. 

“One moment (name)” Jade quickly went towards the breaker in the hallway.

A few flickers and the sound of electricity filled the room until they flickered on, revealing what was hidden in the darkness.

The floor beneath you is a deep cherrywood color, with a few coats of dust gracing the antique floorboards leading all the way into what was a very spacious kitchen that seemed mostly untouched, besides a few vintage knick-knacks and cooking books laying on the counters. 

A small hallway with three dark oak doors with old shaggy carpet started past the end of the kitchen, leading to where the room you'd be staying in was. 

Jade definitely wasn't kidding about how much dissaray the loft was in, but to you, if it was just a perk for working here, why complain anyway?

“So this whole loft is where I'll be staying, or just the room?” You questioned Jade, turning towards him and standing beside the entrance door.

“Everything here will be yours." Jade answered, “My brother and I live on campus at the Octavinelle dorm after all.”

Figures you thought of hearing the mention of the prestigious dorm name.

You took a moment to excitedly think about where you were going to place the few things you owned in the deserted loft.

Since you came later in the semester, you were put in a last-minute dorm that was in an old building called the Ramshackle Building. It certainly wasn’t as spacious as this place was, with only a small twin bed and wardrobe to your name in your room, and a very small mini fridge was all you had in your dorm compared to your friends, who had a literal bathroom and private suite to themselves.

This was a blessing to have a whole place free for exchange to work and take care of a beautiful vintage thrift store.

“So does the job seem enticing enough (name)? We'd hope you can accept our offer; we’ve been in dire need for the position to be filled after all." Jade smiled, putting a hand to his heart.

Without even thinking, you instantly agreed. 

“I can start as soon as you need me,” you said with no hesitation.

Jade gave you a reassuring smile before reaching for your hand in a professional handshake.

Following him out of the loft, however, another sudden chill ran up your spine, forcing you to look around once more before you 

-

Surprised couldn’t even be the right word to describe how you felt when you went downstairs and saw your group of friends in front of the counter joking with... well

Jade?

He wore the exact same work uniform as Jade, the same colored hair, and the same exact black streak over their different colored eyes.

Ace seemed to be joking around with him while Duece and Epel were looking at the sports equipment leaning on a wall next to a bunch of tall displays with mannequins in colorful outfits. Jack and Sebek were talking next to a couple of book shelves near where Duece and Epel were seemingly discussing something about a book on the shelf Jack was looking at while Sebek seemingly was giving his opinion about, well, something you couldn’t hear from that far.

As soon as you got a few footfalls away from the glass counter where you had conducted your interview, Ace immediately perked up at the sight of you.

“(Name)! Thank God Duece wasn’t lying; we thought you went missing,” Ace said, waving at you.

The Jade look alike looked in your direction.

Looking at him closer, you could tell he was definitely not Jade at all but a lookalike; his eye shape was more droopier than Jade's upturned eye shape, giving him a bit more of an exaggerated appearance; he also did not have the lip piercings or the distinct piercings on his eyebrows like Jade had.

Walking over to Ace, you quickly grabbed his shoulder, pulling his ear close to you.

"Ace, who is that?”

You subtly gestured to Discount Jade in front of the two of you.

Ace was about to speak when Jade came around from the back of the employee area, giving you the paperwork for you as a new hire he promised once you went down the stairs.

"Oh, did I forget to tell you about my brother?” he asked innocently.

You only stared at Jade in bewilderment now, staring at the two of them side by side.

Discount Jade starts to laugh a wheezy, creaky laugh, definitely sounding the complete opposite of the brother you met.

“So this is our new storekeeper? What a cute little thing.” 

“Hey! (Name) isn’t cute, they're ugly." Ace spoke up, puffing his cheek.

You only slapped his shoulder with all your might, causing him to wince in return, causing the discount Jade and Jade to laugh in unison.

“I’m going to make a wild guess and assume you two are identical twins,” you remarked.

Discount Jade only smiled at you while Jade laid out the paperwork in front of where you were standing.

"Hey, wait a minute, you got a job (name)?” Ace blurted it out.

"No, fair. I want to work with (name) and Floyd." He pouted

"Unfortunately, we only had one position to fill. If we see (name) bring more business to the shop, however, we will keep you in mind." Jade simply smiled.

Contently, you signed the paperwork Jade gave you, filling out your information as best as you could, while Ace and Floyd continued talking to each other besides you.

You had to check something you had on your phone, prompting you to pull your phone up from your shorts back pocket and fish it out.

Usually, as most of the time you would do this routine, on the ebony screen, you’d catch a glimpse of your face, a random reflection from the ceiling above, or even your unflattering double chin looking down towards you before you’d power it on and see your screensaver and passcode screen.

This time wasn’t like the last few times.

Looking at your phone's dark screen reflection caused you to audibly gasp, turning around quickly. This abrupt reaction made Floyd, Ace, and Jade look at you in curiosity.

Although you completely expected to see the well-dressed man behind you, there was no one there behind you that matched the handsome stranger's appearance.

You knew you saw his face behind your shoulder peeking over at you; those eyes were so unmistakable, you knew it had to be that man.

“Are you okay, (name)?" Jade furrowed his brow.

“Yeah, it happens when you have a face like that and look at your reflection." Ace mimicked your voice before Floyd and Ace erupted into laughter, immediately melting the tension you felt and replacing it with rage as you slapped his thin arm again, leaving a red sting on his flesh.

After finishing the paperwork without further incident, you were officially hired. Your group of friends was overall supportive as you told them all the details about your first day being Monday, giving you all the weekend to hang out before you had to attend your first gig.

The rest of the evening, you all walked the entire boardwalk as the sun set for the evening, prompting you all to go home for the night.

But you, however, are too excited to immediately go home to your dorm.

Remembering the directions you took to get to your new job and future home, you’d approached the dimly lit building. It looked different at night; the streetlights illuminated the inside of the sprawling thrift store.

You stopped walking to admire the building in its entirety, as you did when you first ran into it.

The top floor where the loft was that you’d walk into was completely dark, which made sense since, because of how boarded up the windows were, they were not allowing any moonlight in nor streetlights.

Staring at the window in the middle that you assumed was the living room window you’d observed when you walked in viewing the lonely loft.

However, the longer you looked, the more you swore you heard something.

Bringing your attention to the street to make sure you weren’t in the way you looked around you.

Tap tap tap 

The sound was soft but enough to drive you crazy—was someone walking from the opposite direction or was something on the verge of diving out of your purse you had wrapped around your shoulder?

That damned chill ran up your spine for the third time today, causing you to wrap your arms around yourself. You’d have to remember to bring a jacket when you came to work on Monday since it seemed like it was a cold spot in town. Most likely due to being close to the waterfront, you thought.

Abruptly, you paused when you heard humming.

A soft humming of a tune that sounded very melodious, very vintage

The tapping sound was accompanying the cold hum, but you finally realized where the sound was coming from.

Inside the dark store, the stranger from before was walking towards you, emerging from the shadowy ultramarine hues and the lack of lighting cast on the worn wooden boards.

His striking azure eyes were all you saw as he emerged from the back of the store. His polished, well-taken-care-of dress shoes made a tapping sound as he walked towards you at a crawling pace, humming the tune as he took an agonizingly slow step forward.

He still looked very attractive now that you could see his flawless features up close...

The trance you were in was immediately broken as soon as you realized he was walking to the front door.

Where you currently were standing.

In a panic, you wasted no time finally moving your legs out of the way of the door before he’d open it and ask you what you were doing there, most likely.

As you bolted down the road, you didn’t turn around once, afraid of, god knows what, him running behind you. Getting in trouble for trespassing since you were just standing around.

You never got randomly anxious like that before.

collapsing outside your delapidaed dorm, you stumbled inside the dark doorway bolting to your room upstairs.

not glancing once as you slammed the door to your dorm entry.

-

A new customer came by, and being so young and full of life, they stared at me for what felt like forever.

I need to know more about her. It seems Jade recognized my curiosity towards her as well.

Hopefully, I will meet her tomorrow.

-

[hircines-hunter]

WIP almost Wednesday

still got the Ulfric brainrot. It’s getting worse if I’m buying merch…. Oh well! Maybe I need a new hobby! I’ll see. couldn’t decide on what to actually post. So, I’ll post this thing since I made an image for it and everything.

Gonna tag @thequeenofthewinter @umbracirrus @mavariel @madamefluffnstuff @vivifriend

Anyone else that wants to do you can tag me please!

Dyrvina paced in the main hall. She sighed heavily. She messed with the red beads on her wrist.

Several weeks had passed since Ulfric and his army left for Solitude. Dyrvina grew worried with every passing day and night. The people grew worried. She was frequented by the same people at court daily. All of them concerned with the state of the war. As if anyone had time to report to her.

Frits moped around with her. Lerke followed her lady’s every step, armor clanking with each footfall. Dyrvina sighed again. She knew he was alive. There would’ve been reports, otherwise.

She bit at her nail. She stopped, walked to the throne, and sat down. How did he sit on this for so many years?

Dyrvina looked up when the doors burst open. She stood up. A Stormcloak scout ran towards the throne. Lerke stepped between the scout and Dyrvina. Her hand rested on her sword.

“The war….” He took a deep breath, trying to catch his breath. “Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak has won. The Empire and Thalmor have retreated to Cyrodiil. He….” The scout doubled over and panted. “Apologies, my lady. A letter. From the Jarl. To you.”

Lerke took the letter from the scout and walked to Dyrvina, who stepped down the dais.

Dyrvina looks at the letter. She traced the Stormcloak seal before carefully opening the letter and reading the contents.

Dyrvina found another folded piece of paper. She opened it. A list of casualties from Solitude, from both sides. Divines. Dyrvina felt her eyes water. “Jorleif.” She dabbed the tears in her eyes.

“Aye, my lady.” The steward appeared from the war room. Llaareni followed behind him. She gave Dyrvina a soft smile.

“This is from Ulfric for you. Please.”

The steward walked over and grabbed the paper. He glanced over it and nodded. “We will handle this.” He turned to Llaareni and nodded.

Dyrvina turned back to the scout. “Thank you for your speedy return with such important news. You may rest. The barracks are through that door.” She turned. “Please grab whatever food and drink you need. But please rest.”

“My lady. You should address the city.” Jorleif spoke up.

Dyrvina froze. She messed with the beads of her dress. “Town crier. Get a town crier. Ulfric is better at speeches.” She swallowed. She messed with the bracelet again. She took a deep breath.

“You can do it, Lady Dyrvina. Jarl Ulfric has entrusted you with his duties and the city. You have been doing an exceptional job. This is far too important to leave to a town crier.” Jorleif smiled.

Dyrvina nodded. “Okay…. Aye. I… I don’t have a fraction of Ulfric’s charisma.”

“The people still love you.” Lerke spoke this time. “We will be there.”

She nodded again. “Aye. I’ll try. Should I change? Is this dress okay to wear?” Dyrvina looked around for Maera.

“You always look great, Lady Dyrvina.” Lerke smiled. “It is Stormcloak blue. You wear a bear cloak. You look everything a Stormcloak Queen should look.”

“Llaareni and I will gather the city in the courtyard.” The steward and his assistant hurried out of the Palace.

“Can I even speak loud enough? I don’t have a voice or Thu’um like Ulfric?” Dyrvina wrung her hands. “By Talos. I wish he had just came into the city himself!” She cursed.

Lerke laughed. “Did you not want to take over Dawnstar at one point? And now here you are fretting over your duties.”

“I’ve had the perfect husband in that sense. I have found that I much prefer short term duties over long term. It has been a long month without him. And I have to wait longer. And I can now understand why I grate his nerves. By Talos. I cannot wait until he returns.” She sighed.

“Have you fallen in love with him?” Lerke laughed, knowing the answer.

“Not like that. He is family. And I care about him. I never realized how often I relied on his strength and support since we’ve been apart.” She turned when the doors opened and Jorleif and Llaareni returned. “Well…. I will let Windhelm know the news.”

[azalawa-scroggs]

About Eddie Fender and why he was a dick to Miles

I first started this post in response to something, but it got so long I decided against inflicting it on OP. This is very long and very meandering and the form is kinda weird, as a warning. It's also kinda spoilery for Ace Attorney Investigations 2.

When we first start playing AAI2 and are introduced to "Ace Attorney Eddie Fender," it's true he doesn't come across as very likeable. The first thing he says to Miles is basically "Oh, look! Here comes Manfred von Karma," and the game happens three years after the truth about DL-6 came out. That's incredibly low, very petty, cruel even. He does start off as a dick to Miles, unfair on him until he gradually realises he isn't as bad as he thought, and as he starts warming up to Miles we start warming up to him.

But also... I kind of get it.

Like... Imagine you're 19 years old. Your boss just died in a sudden and shocking murder. You inherit the law firm even though you haven't even passed the bar yet. You're grieving as you keep working hard to become an attorney, now without the guidance you used to have. Maybe you even blame yourself a little - after all, you worked on that case too, you were likely there for the trial, you left both Edgeworths to take that elevator by themselves. Had things played out differently you would have been there, too.

Did you think of your boss's son, in the middle of this whirlwind? Probably a little, but you're a 19 year-old law student. You're nowhere near a suitable place in your life to even think about fostering a kid. Besides, Gregory Edgeworth was your boss. Someone you greatly admired and whose death you will never stop mourning, but still just your boss.

(It's unclear how well Eddie knew Miles. Enough for Miles to recognise him instantly, but certainly not as close as Miles and Phoenix were.)

You take it on yourself to continue the work he left behind, to help the clients Gregory can no longer help. For ten years you try your best to uphold the reputation and the values of his firm and name, and every day you witness a little more how corrupt the system really is.

Then, one day, you start hearing about this young new prosecuting upstart. Passed the bar at 20 and already has the legal world in his pocket. Rumours of forged evidence, backstreet deals, manipulated witnesses. Not only is that just like the whole lot of them, the tactics you became so familiar with over the years - no, it sounds painfully, specifically familiar to that one long, drawn-out case, the last one you worked with Gregory. It turns out the young prodigy is the student and protégé of Mr. Perfection himself, the man who never lost a case in thirty-five years, even though he should have lost against you ten years ago if the world was even a little fair. You would hate the boy for that alone, but on top of that he's also the son of the mentor you lost, the son of the man you both used to admire so very much.

And that hurts. That none of Gregory's legacy lived on in his son. That this sweet, kind boy, who Gregory always used to worry about not making any friends, became a parody of all they used to despise.

Perhaps you even get to see him. You catch a glance of him in the courthouse corridor as he passes you by without so much as a nod to acknowledge you, or you stumble upon a picture in the same paper that struck Phoenix Wright so deeply. You see that damn suit. That damn smirk. That damn waggly finger. His features may have something of Gregory but everything in him screams von Karma. He's spent a decade trying to shape himself into him, and it shows.

Prosecutors are a privileged bunch, and the Edgeworth kid grew up into a downright brat. Entitled. Rude. Arrogant. Obsessed with his fucking perfect record. You hear he goes around cutting the salaries of detectives that make a tenth of what he does and insulting the opposing counsel in court. He became the worst of them all, taught by the worst of them all, he is everything Gregory fought against and everything you hate

Why would you want to associate with that? Why would you ever think he is not perfectly fine where he is, with his cushy office and his cushy sports car and his doubtlessly cushy pay?

A couple years later you hear he's been arrested for murder. Maybe you follow the trial, maybe you only see the headlines after everything, after DL-6 is finally solved. Honestly, that's when you start having a reason to reach out. When, had you been less embittered and jaded by the thanklessness of your job, you might have wondered what it was like for him to grow up in the shadow of his father's murderer. You might have been stricken with compassion and horror at the thought of fifteen years spent in crushing guilt, believing he killed the father he used to love so much. You might have empathised, despite your contempt for von Karma, with how his ward might feel to be so cruelly betrayed, thrice over, by the man who raised him since he was nine, who taught him everything before throwing him away like a piece of used junk.

But you still think of how he was like a son to von Karma, of how he got to spend fifteen years in wealth, following a shiny, easy, corrupt new path while you grieved and desperately tried to keep the pieces of your shared dream together. You think of how uneasy Gregory seemed with the idea of von Karma as a teacher, you think of how eager Miles seemed to follow in his footsteps and how much Gregory would have hated it. You think of the many defendants this boy callously condemned with barely a thought, just like his mentor. Of how he may not have his father's blood on his hands, but with the way he acts you'd think he had his murderer's in his veins. And you really, really don't want to deal with any of that.

You think, somewhat unfairly, that maybe Miles ought to have seen it coming. It's not like it's much of a secret that Manfred von Karma is a piece of shit, and good riddance to him.

Three years later, you actually have to interact with him again. It's been 18 years since you last saw him in his father's shadow, looking at him like he hung the stars in the sky, back when everything was so simple for the three of you. It's been 3 years since the truth about his oh-so-esteemed mentor was uncovered. He still wears the cravat. His brow is still furrowed, his eyes are still piercing.

But slowly, begrudgingly, you talk to him. You start realising he actually has some honour to him. That he's not really the Demon Prosecutor the papers made him out to be, that maybe you misjudged him a little bit, in you grief-stricken, angry bitterness. That maybe he can be trusted, after all, with his father's legacy.

Why would you think he ever needed saving?

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

“Rings of Power” 2x08 (Season Finale) - Speculation and Clues

As promised, and since I've correctly guessed so many plot twists in 2x07, I’ll try my luck in speculate what will go down in the finale. But I’m putting my clown make-up on this time around, because *that scene* left me baffled and wondering if the show producers will give us anymore of that random shock value bullsh*t "Game of Thrones" style.

What's confirmed for Episode 8/Season 2 Finale?

Númenor plot: The Faithful (to the Valar) are declared traitors; and Isildur kisses Estrid and asks her to go with him to Númenor 

The Dwarves of Khazad-dûm dig out the Balrog 

The Stranger meets the Dark Wizard of Rhûn 

Battle of Eregion

Sauron vs. Galadriel 

Númenor Plot

To me, this will be one of those “Season 3 prep-up" plots of the finale. Mostly because, in Season 3, Sauron will, likely, dwell in the kingdoms of Men to find the Nine ring-bearers for his masterplan.  

"The Stranger" Identity

In Season 2 finale we’ll get the reveal of “The Stranger” identity mystery box, when he’ll find his wizard staff and earn his name. Gandalf. Because, lets’ face it, everyone saw that coming from a mile away, and ever since Season 1 there have been clues that “The Stranger = Gandalf”.  

And as I’ve said before, I’m kind of disappointed, because I was hoping for him to turn out to be one of the Blue Wizards.  

Unsure if the “Dark Wizard" identity will be revealed. But since the clownery is lose, I’ll go ahead and say the Dark Wizard of Rhûn can turned out to be Saruman, after all, even if it doesn’t make any sense, and Saruman was a member of the White Council and only joined Sauron after "The Hobbit" timeline, because why not? Apparently, everything is possible and Elves just casually kiss each other on lips, now. 

Battle of Eregion: Celebrimbor’s Death 

Celebrimbor won't come out alive from Season 2. Sadly. The big question here is: will Sauron kill Celebrimbor, himself? I've already discussed this in my "Season 2 red herrings" post, but I'm inclined to believe that "Sauron killing Celebrimbor" might be a red herring in itself. Mostly because, and even though Sauron did tortured Celebrimbor, he still has respect and admiration for him, as a fellow craftsman. And besides, Sauron hates frivolous friction and wastefulness; he’s Lawful Evil, every action of his has a purpose. I can be completely wrong here, but this is my bet.  

In the books, it is said that Celebrimbor is killed by Sauron and the Orcs turn him into a banner. But the catch is: the Orcs aren’t led by Sauron in the show, so it is possible that it’s Adar (and not Sauron) who kills Celebrimbor?  

I think we have two possible scenarios here: 

Sauron kills Celebrimbor after him disclosing the location of the Nine rings of power, and he goes after Galadriel OR because he refuses to reveal where the Nine are;

Adar kills Celebrimbor in Elrond’s presence: making come full circle Elrond’s father prophecy that, one day, Celebrimbor’s life would be on his hands, which was mentioned in both Season 1 and 2x04. 

Battle of Eregion: “Durin will come”. Or won’t he? 

I already speculated that the Dwarves would only join the Battle of Eregion in 2x08, and with the showrunners “deus ex machina” them, and have them arriving when everything seems to be lost and that all Elves are going to die (pretty much like the Knights of Rohan in Battle of Helm's Deep in “The Two Towers”).

However. There have been some references to Peter Jackson’s LOTR trilogy in “Rings of Power”, and we have Elrond telling Aragorn something along the lines of Dwarves caring only about themselves and blind to the troubles of others (even though this Elrond’s opinion has no base in what Tolkien wrote). So, will Durin, actually, come? 

My guess is: yes. Because we know neither Elrond nor Gil-galad will die, but Eregion will fall, all the same.  

Balrog of Moria - "Durin's Bane"

By bet is: Durin III, guided by his ring of power (controlled by Sauron), will dig out the Balrog himself. And like in the books, the Balrog will kill him, and earn the nickname “Durin’s bane”.

And that’s pretty much it for the Balrog plotline: the Balrog just wants to chill on the mines and be left alone.

Sauron/Galadriel - "Last Temptation"

I've already speculated about this scene quite a bit: I did a megathread on it, after all: Part 1; Part 2 (after 2x07, many of it has been erased); and some wild crack theories Part 3 and Plot Twist Kiss - I'll just throw this last one in for fun and laughs, or if someone wants prompts for fanfiction).

I’ll start by saying, Sauron and Galadriel scenes at the finale will either be: (1) a major anticlimactic letdown, or (2) mind-blowing revelations. I don’t think there will be a middle ground, here. And I would advise every shipper to go into the finale with no expectations whatsoever, in order not to get disappointed. 

What's confirmed for this scene?

Galadriel and Sauron will fight; 

Sauron wants the Nine rings of power, and Celebrimbor gave them to Galadriel in 2x07, so he’ll want to retrieve them from her.

There'll, probably, be visions, too, since 2x04 already teased the "return of King Halbrand", and Charlie Vickers said that Sauron still believes he can get Galadriel to join him.

I’ve already presented all the foreshadowing from 2x01-2x06 leading up to this scene on my megathread, so I’ll talk about 2x07, alone. So, we had: (1) the shock value E+G kiss, (2) Galadriel witnessing Adar performing a funeral ritual to the Orcs and (3) her emotional exchange with Celebrimbor, where she admits that she did want to accept Sauron’s proposal in 1x08, and she desired what he offered her (to be his queen). Then Celebrimbor tells her: "It's not strength that overcomes darkness but light. For in its presence, all darkness must flee.” 

This can foreshadow three outcomes (aside from her “Lady of the Light” character arc): 

Galadriel has found resolve, and will outright resist Sauron;

Season 1 finale rehash: Galadriel temporally succumbs, but snaps out of it;

Galadriel might believe she can actually redeem or keep Sauron “in check” with her Light, and goes with him (this one is just wild to me, but it’s one of the interpretations I took from her scene with Brimby). 

Personally, I’m guessing the “last temptation” can go down: 

The anticlimactic let-down: they fight; Sauron bombards Galadriel with visions, retrieves the Nine when she’s either distracted by his illusions or by force, Galadriel resists him, and he probably leaves her for dead or something. There: all the foreshadowing throughout the season turns out to be red herrings, and the OST title ("last temptation") isn't a red herring, at all;

The “Major revelations” scenario: Sauron and Galadriel disclose the extent of their true feelings for each other (explicitly stated or highly implied), with Sauron revealing that the connection they shared when Galadriel believed him to be “just Halbrand” wasn’t a deception on his part (“Halbrand is Sauron” also appears to be a theme this season).

Most likely scenarios on how this scene might end:

Sauron takes the Nine and leaves Galadriel for dead or badly injured; 

Sauron walks away with the Nine, leaving Galadriel unarmed and saved; 

Galadriel’s sacrifice: Galadriel reluctantly joins Sauron, to “keep him in check” and save Middle-earth.

Honestly, my expectations are so low at the moment, I’m not even going to place any bets here.

Will Adar survive Season 2?

I already did a speculation post on Adar’s fate, where I theorize that Adar will die at Sauron’s hands but not before witnessing him becoming Lord of Mordor. Right now, and after that WTF moment in 2x07, I’m not sure of anything. 

If Adar and Sauron run into each other in 2x08, I believe Adar is toasted and won’t make it to Season 3, that’s my guess. 

[spotaus]

New Age au (og drabble)

Finally gave up trying to post this on my phone and I'm doing it from my computer >:(

Don't mind if this post seems outdated compared to any other lore you've seen, this is the very very very first version of this au that I wrote up in my drafts before making the first post about it here lol- It's inspired by @ancha-aus Real Age AU, and is buried in my bajillion insane Fantasy thoughts. (Knight AU basically, Nightmare is a king, usurped to twin thru prophecy stuff, hired on several murderers + outcasts as his elite group of knights.)

This is all un-edited and un-reviewed, best of luck! (I also lost 90% of the italics I added, unfortunately)

(@papiliovolens too btw! Hi!)

   Oh. Oh.

   The feeling that sloughed through Nightmare's body was one that was foreign and uncomfortable. The sound you get when you walk with a pail of water and it sloshes and slams around inside no matter how carefully you walk? Yeah, that was happening to him. 

   His magic felt like all at once it sloshed to the front of his ribcage, then back again as he recoiled. 

   He was training now. Pinned between his knights as they slashed and charged at him. He always loved to enrich them with fast-paced work outs like today. The task was to try and incapacitate him, and he'd planned to tire them out for a while longer. 

   Now, though? He felt sick to his stomach and his vision doubled as he slid out of the way of Killer's blade. He was trying to keep it together, his movements still confident, but hell was it going to shit quickly. He'd never felt a drain like this. 

   As he nimbly moved out of the way of Cross, he noticed they were corralling him. 

   He wondered if this would pass. If he could finish out their training session without giving away just how horribly off-put he felt. Just how unbalanced he was becoming. 

   And yet when he ducked to evade a magic attack from Dust and nearly slammed directly into Horror's broad chest, he realized he was... not right. He was addled, and his senses were dulling. He was grasping at straws trying to identify the magical signatures of his team. 

   Nothing. It was just as bad as being blind. 

   He spun away again, facing his entire team as he caught sight of them. They were having fun. They were enjoying themselves, focused and invested. He hated to cut that off so soon. 

   Nightmare stood tall, opening his mouth to announce a hault, when... 

   He threw up. 

   Not... not in the way most living creatures do. It wasn't bile or mucus or digested food that flooded from his mouth, but instead all at once his magic seemed to erupt. 

   It clogged his throat, and he reached up for his jaws as it flooded out of him. He hunched a bit, only barely catching the surprise enter the expressions of his team as he stared back at them in shock. In disgust at himself. 

   Then his knees gave out. All at once, sense flooded from his mind and he slammed to the ground, his knees and elbows taking the brunt of his weight, joints jolting painfully as his good eye centered in on the ground. Where his magic was pooling and slipping away from him. Down into the cracks in the stone and the mat beneath him. 

   He trembled there, unable to bring himself to move. To try and hold it in. He couldn't breathe, it was just a flow of his magic like someone was tearing it out of his very core. Siphoning it like a straw. 

   He saw a shadow cast over his view, he heard scuffles. The voices were there, but the feeling of losing his grasp on his magic was too overwhelming. He couldn't make anything out past his out soul beating like a drum in his chest. He was losing it. Something. A part of himself. 

   Then a touch. A contact with his back. 

   Not through the protective veil of his magic, not through the sensation of transmitted contact. A thin fabric held him apart from the bony hand that so gently rested along his spine. 

   He gagged on the magic, seeing as it started coming in spurts. He... did not like that sensation. The gasping and the choking as it continued to rise from his core. 

   In a fit of shaking strength, Nightmare forced his body to move. He caught sight of pearly white bones exposed on his hands when he moved them out of the pile of sludge. He weakly shoved himself towards where he thought the hand was from, and collided with a large body. Someone's side. They were knelt. 

   He pressed his back to them as he continued to heave, and the presence drew closer, almost around him. An arm now covered his back, leather pressing heavily into his weak bones. It didn't matter if it hurt, because it made the heaving less horrifying. 

   It felt like an eternity of agony as the last of his magic dripped out of his throat and onto the ground. 

   His chest hurt, his neck hurt, and jaw hurt. His knees ached from the mat and his entire body still shook. He wasn't sure what to do with himself. Why had that happened? 

   He couldn't feel his team.... his team! 

   Nightmare's head shot up. His breathing was ragged, and he surely would've fallen over had he not been so heavily supported by that body. 

   Horror. 

   Horror was the one who was supporting him upright. Who was staring at him, brow furrowed and silent. Who seemed deeply perturbed by what he saw. 

    Past him, Nightmare could see the others. Cross, Dust, and Killer. They all seemed poised, ready to attack an unknown threat. Their backs were to him. The training room was utterly empty. 

   "M'lord?" Horror muttered in question, almost hesitant. 

   Nightmare stared up at him a few more seconds. His mind was chugging through what had happened, trying desperately to come up with a solution. 

   "Stand down." Nightmare ordered. Though, it felt like a squeak compared to his usual deep tone. His voice had lost any bit it might've held not ten minutes prior. 

   At the order, the other three whipped around and observed Nightmare. 

   Cross seemed reproachful. He looked to the others. He was the newest, probably wondered if they'd seen this before. 

   Dust only really turned a bit. A glance from the corner of his eye. Evidently he wanted to stay vigil. 

   Then there was Killer, who immediately dropped to his knees in a kneel to examine Night more closely. 

   "Lord, are you hurt?" Killer asked. 

   He was the first of them, and knew Nightmare best. 

   Nightmare stared at Killer. He was so earnest and loyal. 

   "I... the apples of the prophecy have revoked their magic. I am... I am weakened." He admitted loosely, staring at Killer. He felt empty.

   Killer frowned, his brow furrowing. "May I check you, Lord?" He questioned then. 

   Nightmare nodded. 

   The feeling of magic flowing through his body was not invasive nor unwelcome. It combed his very being, before revealing itself in script before Killer. 

   Nightmare

   The prophecy will not be delayed. His title may now be challenged. 

   Nightmare winced as Killer seemed to hunch even more down, closer to the ground. "If someone can reach my soul, they become holder of the prophecy. I- Dream will know. He'll come for me." He croaked. "Everyone will come." He added, suddenly feeling a terror strike into his soul as Killer raised his dark sockets to stare at Nightmare. 

   Killer hardly moved his hand, and Nightmare felt a second-wind sweep him up. A rush of adrenaline. Some wild jackrabbit just woke up in his soul and realized with a blood-chilling terror that it was surrounded by dingo.

   He thrust himself out from under Horror's arm before the knight could think to constrict him, and caught himself on his feet. 

   Killer's gaze trailed him. As did Horror's as he seemed surprised. 

   Dust stood perfectly still as he went stumbling backwards. And Cross? Well Cross was- 

   Nightmare wasn't sure what came over him when he felt arms around his sides. He was hoisted off the ground, he recognized the technique, it was Cross. 

   "Cross, release me!" He ordered, bis voice weak and panicked. Some part of him knew Cross wouldn't do it. He knew he'd be delivered to Killer and Killer would carve out his soul. 

   He was carried back to the group of nights, then forced to the ground, Cross holding him in place firmly, right where Killer and Horror were still sat. 

   His vision- it was growing blurry with tears. His composure completely broken at the aspect of being killed so soon. 

   "Killer, please don't."  He pleaded, seeing the skeleton draw closer. 

   Killer seemed to frown, "Lord, have some faith in us. We'd never let anything happen to you." Killer said, sounding unimpressed. 

   He raised his hands, and gently laid them against Night's neck. 

   Warm, soothing magic coated the tight injury, and Nightmare tried to resist the temptation to squirm in Cross' grip as it eased his ailment if only slightly. 

   "Your soul's beating so hard I can hear it from here. Breathe." He ordered then. 

   Nightmare took gasping breaths, slowly, very slowly, trying to calm himself. Of course they wouldn't hurt him. These were his knights. He just... he hasn't been so weak in years. Why did he... why did he panic like that? Why... was he so scared still? 

   He didn't open his socket, his good one, for a minute. He let the ebbing race of his soul calm. He tried to remember that he was the one who taught Cross this hold. A non-lethal hold, one which didn't risk harming the target. He tried to relax, to go limp in the hold, but he couldn't. He was still shaking. 

   He kept breathing. And breathing. He'd trained all of them to go for the kill, none of them enjoyed toying with their prey. They would not kill him. 

   "I apologize. I- I don't know-" He tried to speak, only to choke up again as he tried to open his eye. His body just felt so heavy, and so, so abysmally empty. 

   He squinted at the group. 

   "He hasn't stopped shaking." He heard Cross report unabashedly from behind him. 

   Horror stared for a brief moment, before he sighed. "Magic loss. I can hardly feel his aura, he has to be drained all to hell right now. Running on fumes." Horror announced solemnly, his big red eyelight focusing on Cross. 

   He knew Horror was right. He didn't know why it hadn't occurred sooner. His form was reacting poorly to the loss of a godly amount of power. Of course he was afraid and vulnerable. 

   "Mm. What did he usually do to help me? Soup and bed-rest?" That was Dust, his grumbling tone barely scraping Night's ears. 

   Killer and Horror looked to eachother in agreement, nodding. 

   "Lord, I'm going to assume you're delusional and exhausted from magic loss right now, so I'm not taking the tears personally." Killer voiced then, looking to Nightmare. "Cross and Dust are going to escort you to your quarters, Horror is going to bring your dinner, and I'm going to go triple check that this place is on lock-down." 

   Nightmare stared at him with a wide eye, and it took him several seconds to realize that Killer was waiting for something. 

   "P- permission granted." He muttered, and Killer nodded and raised from his knees to stand. 

   Horror followed him, and Cross took a few moments before he eased Nightmare onto his feet. He realized only then that he was barely Cross' height. Barely tall enough to look him in the eyes. 

   He still shook like a newborn fawn, but felt less weak. Cross offered his hand awkwardly. Nightmare noticed he was avoiding his gaze. 

   Horror and Killer were far out of the room by the time Nightmare could muster a standing position. His cloak was far too long for him now, and he hastily bundled the edges up into a bunch before tightening his belt into them. Dust helped him with the clasp, his hands still too shakey. 

   He pulled up his hood, and gripping Cross like a lifeline, the trio left the training room and headed towards Nightmare's quarters. He was a weak, weak man, he realized. Fragile. Once a servant was turning a corner away, no doubt spooked by Dust, and Nightmare nearly fled out of fear. 

   They opened and closed the doors, revealing the darker room. Cross led Nightmare to his bed and gently helped him out of his training wear, only leaving him in the simple under-clothes, which still seemed to hang off of him. 

   He eased into his bed, and he wanted to say something to Cross as he dutifully fluffed Nightnare's pillows, but he could muster nothing. He couldn't bring himself to- no...

   "Cross?" His voice was a bit stronger again. It hurt less to speak. No doubt Killer's magic settling in. 

   The knight seemed to jolt a bit, looking to Nightmare. Nightmare slunk back under his gaze, unable to withhold the reflexive recoil. 

   "I- Thank you, for disobeying orders." He managed, "I could've hurt myself in my frenzy. You made the right call." He admitted, before swiftly turning his head away. 

   Cross seemed silent for a moment, hesitating at the bedside. 

   "You always said if you fell ill that Killer would be in charge. I just figured this was one of those instances and did as he ordered." Cross reported, his voice meek as well. He seemed to be taking Nightmate's sudden decrease in magic just as hard as the tyrant himself. 

   Nightmare nodded a bit. In agreement. In acknowledgement. Of course Cross would never disobey him on his own whim. Cross had always been a soldier. 

   The room grew still in the wake of the words, and Nightmare felt himself sink a bit easier into his pillows. 

   Cross stationed himself by the door, and Dust settled at the foot of Nightmare's bed, using the trunk sat there as a seat. He'd done it before in the past, and Nightmare had never noticed how defensive of a position it was until that moment. He felt... secure. Like he always did with his knights. 

.

   Horror returned with a meal within the hour, gently awakening Night from his dazed half-sleep which had nearly consumed him. His sockets were heavy when he sat up to take the plate onto his lap. 

   It was a nice cut of meat, and a drink he was almost positive was plain water, with what looked to be fresh plants from the gardens.

   Horror had handed over the utensils, and stood idly near to Dust as Nightmare worked his way through the food. He'd never had a large appetite before, not even as a boy. Now he had devoured everything on his plate, and felt sick for it. 

   It seemed to please Horror, though. As Night discarded the plate to his nightstand, Horror had turned his head and smiled at him. He hardly had the strength to nod back in approval. 

.

   Night had fallen asleep mere minutes after he finished his meal, sinking back into his pillows with a soft repose. Horror had stood and pulled his covers up a bit further. Nightmare was a lot smaller, now. The linens drowned him, and the his bed felt all too large. His frame seemed fragile. Dwarfed in the expanse. 

   It wasn't until Killer entered that anyone spoke. Nightmare had drilled it into them that Killer was the one in charge if anything weren't wrong. 

   "Everything's secure, all the guards know to be on alert." He reported to the other three. His gaze only lingered on Nightmare for a few seconds before his shoulders sagged. "How are we feeling about Nightmare? Does it look like he was right? Prophecy privileges revoked?" He asked quietly, though he could see with his own eyes just how obvious it must've been. Nightmare was small, and frail, and his skull was covered in cracks. 

   Dust hummed, "No sign of his usual aura. Seems like he's going to be okay, though." He reported evenly. Killer didn't need to look to know the others were also looking at their King. Exhausted, tucked soundly into bed. 

   "Surely he can't continue his duties like this. I mean... we scared him. Us." Cross piped up from the door. It seemed he still hadn't recovered from his own apprehension. Killer had seen the hurt in his face when Nightmare had been so afraid. 

   Killer scoffed, "To be fair, I think that's the normal reaction to seeing us, Cross." He teased, "But no, you're right. Even if he's more calm when he wakes up, we shouldn't let news spread of this... change. It would put him in danger." Killer lamented a bit, and heard the others all give grunts of agreement. 

   Horror shifted onto his feet, "We'll have to keep close to him. He seems... younger. I don't like the idea of leaving him alone when there might be threats." Horror had been raised on the outskirts, he was always sensitive to young people. When Cross had joined them, he'd lingered around him so often Cross was sure Horror wanted him gone. 

   The big guy was just trying to make Cross more comfortable was all. 

   Killer tapped at his thigh as he stood there, "We'll take shifts, then. Assume we treat this as an illness for now, follow his protocol, and once he's feeling better we can decide if he's still fit enough to, y'know, order us around." Killer said to the group, though there wasn't going to be fuss either way. Killer was always the one they'd trust next after Night. It was only right. They'd all trust Killer with their lives. 

   They all seemed to silently debate. 

   "I'll take first shift. I was going easy during training, so I'll stay up tonight." Dust finally chimed. 

   Killer agreed, and the others, after some hesitation, ushered out of their king's room and out into the halls. 

   Cross said he'd go back and train some more on his own, Horror said he was going to go get food for himself and Dust. Killer was going to go reschedule all of Night's meetings for other times or assign them to advisors. They all had things to do, and it felt strange to know their King was now not who they once knew. The fear in his eyelight had been the same fear they saw when they got injured, or sick, or hurt. They never expected to cause that fear to the man who had earned their full trust.