#why do i get the feeling that this trilogy is about to pick me up and drop me on my head

[drugsorgasmsandcheese]

trouble, j. miller | chapter one

mob!joel miller x fem!reader

chapter summary: after getting fired from your job at the bookstore, your grandparents introduce you to the man who’s been helping them out for awhile: joel miller. now, it’s his turn to help you.

chapter warnings: reader swears and has dry humour (she’s a bit of me x), mentions of vip’s getting touchy but it’s hypothetical if that makes sense?? reader calls her grandparents ‘pops’ and ‘nonna’, no beta cause i cba, blah blah blah that’s it

also no hate to anyone who reads romance/physical smut books, the hate is simply towards minors who read them & their parents for allowing them LOL

word count: 2518

(series masterlist)

you really don’t know how much longer you can do this.

you’re six hours into your ten hour shift. you’re bored, you haven’t had your lunch break, and your phone is charging behind the desk where you were watching criminal minds before two teenage girls walked into the bookstore.

you’ve watched them for the past twenty minutes. they practically ran to the romance section, picking up books and flicking to certain pages you know had the most pornographic scenes in them before they’d giggle amongst themselves and add it to the pile they were building.

can teenage girls even afford this many books? you had been working since you were sixteen, and you’d barely get enough money to buy yourself two books whilst the rest would be stored away for college. and is this what people were reading nowadays? a male character that exudes toxic masculine standards whilst the author plays into the whole “innocent, virginal” female character who hadn’t the slightest clue about sex or life? is this what parents were allowing their children to-

“we want these books.” a demanding voice speaks to you, and you almost have to do a double take when you see the two teenage girls stood before you at the counter. god, you couldn’t even rely on the younger generation to be polite these days, especially not when one of them is judging you for your oversized hoodie and sweats and the crocs that sit on your feet.

“of course.” you force a smile, biting back on the insults you wish to hurl upon them. but, your boss is in the back. probably doing jackshit like she usually does, leaving you to work your ass off without any breaks.

the scanner scans the barcode on the back of every book before placing them in two bags. dante’s nine circles of hell sounds more appealing than this. you might just grab one of the books and hit yourself with it, hoping you hit so hard you might pass out and get to leave early. not like your boss would allow it, but the thought of having a hot shower and slipping into bed sounded nice.

“and your total is $194.68, is that going to be cash or card?” you rest your hands on the counter, looking at the two girls. one of them whips out a card, so black and matte you almost feel the courage to ask her if: it’s her fathers, and if so, is he single?

you hand her the card machine where she taps the card, and once the payment is deemed successful, one of the girls takes the bag, looks into it and frowns. “these aren’t in the right order.”

“excuse me?”

“the books aren’t in the right order.”

there’s a right order to put books in. none of them were even a series, and even then, does it really matter if your fucking fairy porn trilogy is separated?

“did you ask for them in a certain order?”

the girl gives you a look. “no?”

“so then why would i know what order to put them in?” you’re so done. you’re so fucking done, mentally, physically, and in the eyes of your boss, as well. the girls look at you, mouths agape, probably because they didn’t think they’d be spoken to this way, but you always said that the second a customer is rude to you, you’re being rude back.

the duo scowl at you as they leave the store, muttering insults under their breaths like it was a middle school friendship break up. you sigh, going to turn around to grab your phone when you jump back, spotting your boss leant against the wall.

“you’re fired.” she states.

“yes!” you fist pump the air sarcastically, grabbing your stuff and practically racing out the store. you didn’t even care if you were supposed to wait until the end of your shift to fully leave your job. you were hungry, tired, and your pops and nonna had told you that pops’ infamous burgers would be made for dinner and you were eager.

on your walk home, you listen to your music. it was relatively dark outside, and ideally, as a woman, you shouldn’t be wearing headphones in the dark. but you had always been more frightened by the noises you could hear rather than the ones you couldn’t.

you step into your home, taking your shoes off by the door and walk into the kitchen. you stop at the sight. your pops and nonna were stood in the kitchen talking to a man you have never seen before and you’re almost offended that your grandparents hadn’t allowed you to meet him because jesus christ and all things holy, that man is beautiful.

he’s tall. scarily tall, actually. and not to say you have a thing for muscular men but you would not mind letting this stranger throw you about. he leans on the kitchen counter, arms folded across his chest as he eyes you up.

“he. who is he?” you point to the man, looking at your grandparents.

your nonna tuts your name. “he is joel miller, helps us out where we need it. why are you home so early, sugar, i thought you had a ten hour shift today?” nonna embraces you, kissing your cheek as she taps your arm, signaling for you to sit down at the kitchen table.

a faux laugh escapes you. “heh, well, you see-”

“don’t tell me that damn boss of yours ‘s been givin’ you a hard time again.” your pops speaks up this time, interrupting you this time. your pops was a scary man. he used to be involved in a lot of shit back in the day, constantly being chased down streets and alleyways by the police, always having them on his doorstep which would cause his mother to scold him. you can’t count the amount of times he’s threatened to come down and give your boss an earful on both hands.

“she actually fired me. apparently addressing one’s stupidity isn’t allowed. however, i am more focused on joel. joel, what is your purpose in this here house?” your head turns to look at the man as he addresses you, and he gives you a small smirk, walking over to the table and sitting across from you.

“she got a mouth on her, don’t she?” he asks your grandparents, and your nonna chuckles.

“always has. only started living with us when she was eighteen because of college, but she’s always had something to say.”

“something that’s gotta be shared with everyone.” your pops adds, and you give him a playful pout.

“right here guys, right here.” you announce. “back to the topic at hand. joel, why have you interrupted my pops’ burger night?” you’re facing each other now, your eyes analysing his face but all he does is smirk and since when was smirking so attractive on a man?

“well, your grandparents here mentioned how you hated your job, and i just so happen to have one that needs filled at one of my clubs.” his texan accent was prominent and full as he spoke, his brown eyes never leaving yours. “‘s if you want it, of course.”

“what club?”

“apocalypse.”

you slam your hands on the table with a wide grin. “i’m sold. when do i start?”

joel chuckles. “no questions about the pay, the shifts?”

you shake your head. “nope, don’t care. you know how hard that club is to get into?” you turn your head to look at your grandparents. “extremely fucking hard, i’ll tell you that right now. and i’ll get to work in there? god, life is so generous to me sometimes.” you exhale lightly, jokingly.

joel doesn’t stay for your pops’ burgers, but he’s given some to take home anyway. you decide to walk him to the door, being the ever so kind woman that you were, ready to see him off when he stops.

“ya’ start at five p.m. tomorrow, alright? i’ll have someone show you around, get you your uniform ‘nd all that before the club opens.”

nodding your head at joel, you bid him goodbye and watch as he makes his way to a sleek, black porsche, get in, and drive off.

____

“what do you mean you’re working for joel miller?” alicia asks you. alicia was the first friend you made at college after you chewed her ear off for the entirety of your first class. a girl who followed gothic fashion and was an absolute sweetheart compared to the people you’ve known in the past.

“i mean exactly what i said, babe. he’s apparently been looking after my grandparents for awhile and he offered me a job at apocalypse after that old bitch fired me.” you shrug, taking a bite of burger you got from dining hall.

“but joel miller is…he’s dangerous! everyone says his clubs are just money laundering schemes to hide his actual money.” naomi spoke up this time. ever the worrier, she was.

“money laundering would mean that no one was using his clubs and they were just there, naomi. the clubs are exclusive. i mean, we’ve all seen the lines to get in. we’ve been in those lines!” alicia somewhat comes to your defense even though you know she’s fully against you working there.

“my friend tina, the one from the political science class, worked there last year, and she says the pay is amazing!” a woman with black curls approaches your trio, another close friend of yours: georgia. “don’t get me wrong, she said some shady stuff happens in the v.i.p. lounge, but probably just guys gambling or something.”

you embrace georgia. “see, good pay and all i have to do is not ask questions. i’ll be fine, guys. and you,” you look at georgia “need to meet me at our cafe so you can tell me about that little masc lesbian of yours.”

you finish the rest of your burger, and pick up your bag. “gotta get home, but i’ll fill you all when i see you.”

you wave goodbye to your friends, walking out of the building as you scroll on your phone. when you get to the street, you bump into someone, about to apologise until you look up and gasp dramatically. “you! are you stalking me. god, joel, i didn’t know i was worth being stalked. that’s so flattering.”

joel scoffs, and opens the passenger door to his black porsche. “get in. ‘m gonna drive you down to the club.”

“don’t have to tell me twice.” you get into the passenger seat, placing your bag down in between your legs and joel closed your door. he rounds the front, getting in beside you and starts the car.

“ya’ hungry?” he asks, driving away from your college building.

“i ate just before i left. had a cheeseburger. not the most edible thing i’ve ever had, but it worked.”

“if you’re hungry when we get there, i’ll take ya’ down to the kitchen and grab you somethin’ there. house mom might have some snacks for ya’ too.”

brows furrowed, you turn to look at him. “the fuck is a house mom?”

“older woman who works with the dancers, takes care of ‘em in between dances. she’ll have snacks, spare outfits or shoes, hygiene products. helps ‘em all like a mom would.”

“nice.” you nod your head, and soon you’re in the private parking lot for the club. joel gets out first, rounding to your side and opening the door up for you. “gotta love a southern gentleman.” you snicker, walking into the club behind him.

he walks up a set of marbled stairs, heading to the second floor. “you’ll be working in the v.i.p. lounge, ‘s where all the dancers are and most of our staff.”

the second floor of the club is lit with red led lights, creating a sultry atmosphere. there are private rooms scattered all around, but there are booths scattered in the middle. joel walks you down to a hidden room and opens the door.

“this is my office. you can put your shit in here.” you walk in and place your bag down on the cushioned sofa, taking a seat beside your belongings. “i’m here when i’m not in the booths doing business, but if anything happens out there, ya’ come and find me, alright?”

you nod your head at him.

“all v.i.p’s know dancers and staff aren’t to be touched, but you gotta promise you’ll come find me if that rule is broken.” after promising, he continues. “i’ll take you down to adele and see if she’s got any spare uniform for you. she’ll walk you through anything else.”

joel guides you down the haul with a hand on your lower back, and if there was a camera following you, you would’ve hand an office moment with this simple touch.

“momma!” joel yells, knocking on a pink door.

the door opens, and an african-american woman opens it. she looks at joel, then you, and embraces you in a tight hug. “welcome, baby. this the new girl we’ve been hearing about?”

“yes ma’am!” you answer before joel can, shooting him a shit-eating grin.

joel speaks your name, and your eyes meet his. “go inside while i talk to adele, she’ll be back to help you in a minute.”

as you step inside the room, you’re met with an abundance of dancers. some are singing, doing their hair and make up, zipping up their heels, and others are lay on sat around eating some snacks.

“hi guys!” you wave at everyone, and they all squeal when they see you, immediately asking questions.

you answer them as best as you can until adele comes in. “now, i gotta get her some heels and her uniform, and when i come back-” adele glances around the room, pointing at an east asian woman with pin straight black hair. “lucy, do her make up, just so she knows what the standard is. your hair is fine, baby, don’t need anyone touching that.”

lucy smiles and waves at you, and you return it as adele leads you into the changing rooms. “uniforms are simple. black shorts, black long sleeve, and…what size shoe are you, baby?”

you respond, and she goes over to a rack of black, leather heeled boots. they’re platformed, shiny, and you know your feet are going to hurt the second your shift is done. “and these. i’ll let you get changed and you just come straight out when you’re done. help yourself to some snacks as well.”

“i don’t have to pay you for them?”

adele chuckles. “no, baby. joel gives me the money to buy the snacks. anything for you girls, joel pays for.” and with that, she leaves the room.

you sigh, looking at the mirror in front of you. this was a new job, with a hot boss, and from what you could tell, the rest of the girls in there were lovely.

this was your life now.

____

a/n: first chapter mother fuckers let’s GOOOOO

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[guniniz]

─ falling asleep on facetime with zb1. ့ ◌๋  ✿

# genre … fluffy scenario’s of how i think zb1 members would react to you falling asleep while on facetime, some are romantic relationships and some are just friendships !

# note … third and final part is out !! got to this earlier than i thought i would :)) definitely opening my request so feel free to leave anything in there. i hope you enjoy the last part of this sort of trilogy lol.

── 彡 [규빈] GYUVIN

you and gyuvin had been appointed as the organizers for your classes “cafe” for the school festival.

you loved to do this kind of stuff and had been very excited to be the head of the organization while gyuvin was the vice leader.

and while gyuvin was excited he was pretty sure the teacher only picked him cause he overheard him telling his friends that he had a crush on you earlier this week.

since no one else volunteered either he had no choice but to accept.

and while he regretted it in the beginning after some thinking (and a pep talk from his friends) he decided that this would be the perfect time to confess to you.

as you guys were working on brainstorming ideas, handing out roles to other classmates and setting everything up for the week leading up to the festival gyuvin’s pondering on what would be the best time and place to confess his feelings for you.

the day of the festival came however and both of you guys were so busy that he didnt even get a chance to pull you away for a bit to have a one on one conversation.

as the day ended all he could do was watch you walk home with your friends waving him goodbye as you left.

he felt his heart ache a bit as he realized he had missed his opportunity for the perfect confession.

with disappointment in his heart he headed home and went straight up to his room to let himself just fall onto his bed face first.

as he was wallowing in his self pitty he heard his phone ring. he slowly lifted himself up without much hurry as he thought it was yujin calling just to laugh at him.

his face quickly changed when he saw that it was your name who lit up his phone though. he softly slapped himself on the face a few times and cleared his throat before picking up your call

“oh hi y/n, why are you calling me this late, not that i mind of course but i was just wondering” gyuving quickly stopped talking as to not ramble on.

you were so tired from this long week and on the verge of falling asleep so you yawned quietly and said “oh i just wanted to thank you for helping me out this week, i know you had little choice since no one else wanted to but thank you nonetheless!”

“oh no worries y/n it really wasn’t a big deal i really liked it actually” gyuvin said trying not to stumble over his words

all of a sudden gyuvin got a little confidence boost and had decided to let you know that he liked you right this moment. as soon as he started though he lost what little confidence he had and kept beating around the bushes.

you didnt wanna interrupt him while talking and you tried your best to listen to him but in the end all the exhaustion from the week caught up to you and you fell asleep.

after a little bit of some more rambling and avoiding eye contact gyuvin finally got to the point “what i really wanna say is i like you y/n”

as he let out a breath of relief for finally being able to say it he was awaiting a response. though after a few seconds of waiting he still didnt get one.

“you know y/n you dont have to respond right now and if you dont like me that’s totally fine…” he kept going till he finally looked over to his phone to find out you had been asleep for who knows how long.

“damn it gyuvin you messed it up again” he said softly “i was supposed to confess to you today y/n i’d been thinking about the perfect timing all week and i missed both opportunities…” another heart ache hit him this one harder than the one at school.

he hung up the call and after a bit more self pity he decided to just blurt it out the next time he manages to get you two alone. he would not mess up another chance, third time is the charm.

── 彡 [건욱] GUNWOOK

whenever gunwook and you got back home from a date you guys liked to “continue” your date and facetime each other after while winding down and getting ready for bed.

today was no different and as soon as you texted him that you got home safe your phone started ringing.

you picked up and were met with a very close up shot of your boyfriends face which made you laugh.

he smiled back at you as he started taking off his shoes and coat since he only just got in as well but couldn’t wait a second more before calling you.

as you did the same you could see he was walking further inti the apartment before letting out a sigh.

you asked him what’s wrong and he said he forgot to do the dishes as it was his turn today.

he giggled at him and told him to get to it to which he asked (begged) if you could come over and help him with it.

“it’ll take like 30 minutes for me to get there you could be done by that time wookie” you said to him with a laugh as he was pouting at you.

thats how you ended up doing your skincare while watching your boyfriend do the dishes for him and his roommates.

the 30 minutes passed and he was indeed done in the time you said it would take. you let out an “i told you so” as your boyfriend sarcastically huffed and puffed about you being right once again.

as you got done with your skincare gunwook had only just started so you decided to get into bed and set your phone up on your nightstand so you coukd still watch him while laying down and relaxing from your long day together.

he made you laugh as he was playing with the foam from his cleanser making all sorts of silly faces and while he was very cute and highly entertaining you could feel your eyes becoming heavier.

as he was rinsing and drying his face you tried your best to not succumb to your tiredness.

even though you tried your best the last thing you remember is gunwook getting to the last step of his skincare.

gunwook had noticed you were getting tired and decided to mute himself for the remainder of his nightly routine.

he really didn’t mind you falling asleep as this was one of the times of the day where he thought you looked the cutest.

eventually he finished doing everything he needed to and got into bed as well setting up his phone the same way you had.

as he planted a small kiss on his phone and whispered an i love you he thought it would be fun to have a “sleepover” so he didnt end the call before laying down and falling asleep either.

miraculously both of your phone batteries survived (barely) the night and you found out you guys had slept through the night on facetime together.

when you realized he was still sleeping you silently hung up the call as your phone was about to die and texted him a good morning and an i love you as you knew he had probably done the same to you last night.

── 彡 [유진] YUJIN

you and yujin became friends the first year of high school as you guys got sat next to each other.

the next year you guys grew closer and now in your third year you couldn’t imagine not being friends with him.

your teacher assigned the class a duo group project and you immediately asked yujin to group up together.

he agreed and you guys ended up having to work on the project together.

because the project wasn’t necessarily hard you guys thought you’d have way more than enough time to finish it before the 4 week deadline.

you guys ended up procrastinating (and lowkey forgot about it) so when the both of you realized the due date was tomorrow you quickly scrambled together and decided to work on it until it was done.

you guys met up at a cafe and started working on the project, and while it wasn’t hard it was surprisingly a lot of work since its required a lot of steps and you had to document all the work you did behind the scenes as well as citing all your sources.

the both of you got to work and eventually lost track of time and only realized it had gotten dark outside when you got kicked out of the cafe as they were about to close.

the project wasn’t done yet and you both agreed to pull an all nighter to finish it.

you got home and immediately called yujin to continue working.

he picked up your call with a groan as he jokingly mimicked slamming his head onto his desk. “y/n can’t we just ask for an extension i’m too tired”

“you know how the teacher is with extensions, plus we had 4 weeks… i doubt he’s gonna believe us even if we tell him our best lie” you said.

he sighed, agreed and started his laptop back up to continue working.

as you guys were both working in the same document you could see what he was up to and when you noticed he hadn’t typed anything in a while you looked over at your phone to find him almost falling asleep.

“yujin wake up man, dont make me do this by myself” you said slightly raising your voice.

he shot straight up as he tried to deny the fact that he fell asleep. you shot him some daggers with your eyes as the both of you got back to work.

you were almost done when you noticed a bunch of random letters appearing in yujin’s section and when you looked back at your phone again you saw that he had fallen asleep again and face planted onto his keyboard.

you quickly kicked him out of the document so he didn’t ruin any more of the text as you silently laughed at the sight.

you hung up the call and finished the rest of the project by yourself but not before sending yujin a “threat” that if he didn’t buy you lunch next time you guys went out that you would convince the teacher that you did all the work and to give him a bad grade. (you would never of course but it scared yujin enough to bring you a croissant paired with a sheepish apology the next morning)

— pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3

[madockisser]

thought dump on new tfota book:

i think the reason that there’s going to be another jurdan book (supposedly) is mostly because Jude and cardan both have very unfinished stories.

you know that deleted scene at the end of qon where Jude and cardan are all sweet laying on the grass together? it was cut for a reason, and replaced w the epilogue in the mortal world.

In that epilogue, Jude herself hopes in her head that cardan won’t lash out at any humans. i always hated that part in her monologue, because it shows that Jude still doesn’t even really know the man before her.

it’s bittersweet that in their time outside of the series after qon, that maybe Jude learned why cardan wouldn’t lash out at humans. or maybe she’s yet to learn it in the new book.

but while i feel like there’s potential for them to do more, not just politically but with their relationship, some things are better left unsaid.

also, i don’t see the series being very romantically focused on Jurdan, only because miss black hasn’t really done that when it comes to her folk of the air series before. it’ll def be more politically driven.

i dreaded the publishing of the stolen heir and the prisoners throne because i worried that it would ruin Jude and cardan for me, and while that wasn’t the case, i still found myself unsatisfied with their story and how the entire family doesn’t really know each other.

don’t get me wrong, i do love family drama, but at the same time, Jude and cardan and oak and vivienne and Taryn have all endured so much trauma, I’d die for them to just be happy.

i assume the political problem will be the one i vaguely remember from the prisoners throne, the croin guy who hates orlagh and nicasia (can we blame him) and his evil sea buddies who attacked that ship oak and suren were on

Anyway i def think madocs dying in the next books, since it’s undersea based, and he had the queen of the undersea shot and whatnot, and while the ghost payed the price for that (sorta but not intentionally) i still think madoc is kicking the bucket.

Someone important is gonna die and i dread it.

on a lighter note, i really wish that miss black would pick up some of her older characters, not just for cameos. (Not gonna happen but i can HOPE)

i want to see Ben and severin, corny and Luis, Kaye and roiben, Val and ravus and their cute little troll babies. i want more info on the greenbriar line, on Val moren, on Locke even, his parents, on Jude’s parents, oriana, grima mog, anyone.

I’d especially like to see oriana and madoc finally have a relationship that isn’t based on obligation, one where there isn’t cute little Oakey pokey to take care of now that he’s grown. especially if it’s like scraps, like random interactions they have from someone else’s pov (idk i just think that’s so cute)

Lastly, all the hate im seeing abt jurdan potentially being the main focus for the next book is halfway understandable but also pretty sucky, as if oak and suren didn’t have their own duology after tcp trilogy. i can understand ofc not wanting them to be the main focus but slandering miss black over it is just rude, let her lock in and create another beautifully written fantasy world with complex characters.

also we know pretty much nothing. what the author said doesn’t even automatically confirm it’s going to be a jurdan book, but conclusions have already been jumped to and half the fandom is super excited and the other half hates the thought of jurdan getting another story.

edit for whoever sent that ask: of course it’s fine to not want them to be the center of the book! i agree, but yknow what they say: “you get what you get and you don’t get upset!” so maybe let’s not say mean things abt the author because that’s not very nice, if you’re gonna criticize, criticize the work and not the creator?

anyway idk i have 0 motivation to post anything decent hence why i haven’t posted an analysis in about 162948392 years only because I’m basing it on my reread and that’s going super poorly bc I’m taking a torturous precalc class

[romanarose]

Supportive Logan Thoughts: Writer GF

Logan Howlett x fem!writer!gf

Join my taglist : Masterlist

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Summary: You're an aspiring writer, but having trouble finding time to write. Logan shows his complete faith in you, no matter what your family thinks.

Warnings: Not a lot, unsupportive/mean family. My massive daddy issues

A/n: I wanted to write this for myself because Im feeling massively unsupported by my family and several friends, and I with I had a partner with this much faith in me. I have another one I wanna do with supportive logan and reader who wants to continue education. If you have any self indulgant ideas you wanna hear, send em! It'll probs be short but I can have Logan say things i think you'd want to hear in a way that makes sense for him. Trans and lgbt themes encouraged.PS: catch the bobs burgers reference?

Dinner had been going pretty well, comparatively. Logan hadn't snapped at your dad for his passive aggression, and your mom hadn't commented on how you'd gained weight. It wasn't your fault your beloved boyfriend seemed to be fattening you up!

All in all, a peaceful dinner.

Until your brother, Mark, had to be a dick.

"You still writing on Wattpad?" He asked, an innocent enough question but you knew that tone. Logan stiffened, so you put a hand on his thigh. He chewed hard on the broccoli.

You brace yourself a bit. "Yeah, I got the fanfictions. But I'll have you know, it's a fun hobby and I do pretty well for myself-"

"Writing men kissing on tumblr isn't a hobby any more than making a porno is."

Logan speaks, through a full mouth. "I bet you're the porn expert, considering you're not getting any from anyone else."

"Except your mom."

You raise to hands at both Logan and Mark "Knock if off you two!"

Your mom is glaring at Mark for mentioning porn at the table, but he's pretending to be very interested in his chicken Alfredo.

Still, your dad always has something to say. "It's a shame you can't make money off that. I don't really understand why you do it."

"For fun?" You didn't know what not to get. Your grandma made terrible janky blankets and you all gushed over them. You loved them of course, because it was grandma. Why couldn't you have a hobby weather or not you were good?

But Logan wouldn't let the silence be filled with your families assumptions. "Well, she's writing a book, actually. And it's good, really fu- I mean, it's really good." Logan abides by your moms no swearing rule, but she pays no mind to the always f word as she somehow finds a reason to embarrass you.

"Oh she's always talking about some book or whatever. As a kid it was mystery because she was into the boxcar children. As a teen she was going to write the next big dystopian trilogy." She covers her mouth as she laughs about it.

Logans hand flexes and tightens under the table, trying to remain calm. "And what did you say when she told you about these?"

"Well, I told her she should be more realistic. I mean, I read some of her writing-"

"Because you snooped through my notebooks!"

"And it wasn't exactly Hunger Games."

Logan set down his plate. "So let me get this straight, Diane."

"Lo..." You warn.

"You snooped through notebooks that your daughter wrote by hand on notebooks, at what, 14, 15? Told her that this first draft, which I cannot stress enough, was written on a notebook, wasn't good enough to be published, then you're shocked she didn't finish it?"

When you're moms mouth gapped, your dad stepped in. "She doesn't finish anything, I'm sure you picked up on that. I mean, how many half started art projects are in your house right now?"

An embaressing amount. The other day, you found three different blankets with the same color scheem started. Three! Thrice, you had the same idea and never followed through.

Your boyfriend was not deterred. "Well, maybe, she needs someone whose going to support her, encourage her. Didn't seem like she had a lot of that before."

"WHELP!" You slap your knees, then stand up. "This has been great, but as usual we passed the 15 minute mark, and right on cue, it's time to go."

Your dad was as stubborn as Logan was and stood too. "Oh yeah, and just what are you gonna do to support her, to magically fixed years of fail-"

As you pulled Logan toward the door, Logan counts off on his fingers. "One, tell her that she can actually do it, because she CAN, two, check in on her and let her brainstorm with me. Have you ever actually asked about her plot? No?"

You're giggling to yourself now. Dinner was ruined, but you liked that Logan didn't stand for people talking bad about you.

"And three, she's gonna quit her job so she can focus on writing!"

Well. That one was new. Logan always encouraged your novel in progress, he listened about the characters and offered ideas, gave you a sounding board that wasn't judgmental. Yes, you've complained about no time for writing when you work so much but... No matter, you show a united front in front of your dad.

"Yeah! Because he believes in me." And you were out the door.

*

The drive back was quiet. Espresso was on the radio, and you knew he must be distracted because he didn't change the station, so you spoke first.

"I don't have to quit my-"

"I was gonna talk to you about-"

You both start at the same time. Then you laugh. "You first, Lo."

His body language relaxes for the first time tonight. "I didn't mean to spring that on yuh." I don't wancha to think I'm like. Trying to tell you what to do or make you financially dependent."

"I don't." You assure him. "So... you thought about this?"

He nods. "Yeah I um... I really think you got something good here, baby. I think if you took leave for a while ad really could just focus on the book, it could be something great. I mean, I don't know much about books but even I like it, so... you know... it's gotta be good."

Warmth fills your body as a blush festers under your skin. Logan really believed in you. He believed in your book enough that he was willing to take this risk on you.

"Can we... afford that?"

"Well I thought..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I can always take overtime at work. If I pick up another day or two-"

"Logan! I can't ask your to do that!"

"You're not." He turns to you briefly, smiling, then back to the road. "I'm asking to do this for you, if you'll let me. Then, when you're a high falutin writer, I can be your sugar baby." He pokes yoru side, making you giggle

Still, seed of doubt were deeply entrenched. "But what if I don't do good? It doesn't sell?"

Logan shrugs. "Well, I guess... then you'll try again. Or you don't, an you'll know you finished it and you tried."

A pause. "You're really willing to do this for me?"

"Baby..." He places a hand on yours, eyes once again drifting only briefly from the road to you, then back. "I'd get the moon right now if you asked. Let me do this for us."

For us.

***********

Okay thats it im done im sorry, that was my own daddy issues, mommy issues, brother issues- lort help lmfao

anyway if you like this, check out my other stuff on my masterlist! if you like dark content, most of my logan is being written over at @romana-after-dark

the bobs burgers referece was the 15 min rule. at exactly 15 min, big bobs says something mean to bob asdfghjkl

my middle brother hosted a surprise party for my parents anniversary and we decided to have me an the ret of my siblings be surprise one, have my oldest brother hiding bc he lives the furthest away for surprise 2, then downstairs my extended family for three. My dad walks in, sees me and my youngest brother who he was't expecting, and before he even says hi he says "where's *oldest brother*" so that felt cool. And we got into a bit of an arguement where he was discrediting my feelings about the move when i was a teenager, and then my brothers and sister were assholes- and i just kept thinking i want logan or santi or joel here to protect me and defend me even against little stuff.

enough about me!

send your requests! give me chubby read, black reader, trans reader, native reader, bi reader, male reader- literally whatever tf you want. I cant say it'll be as long as this one but i got you. you desver to feel supported.

[tossawary]

Regarding "The Hobbit" film trilogy, even if I ended up personally disliking and resenting how much time and focus the elf characters (and others) ended up taking away from the dwarves whom I think deserved more focus as rich internal characters (I know that studio pressures are a factor in that terrible love triangle and so on), I still... vaguely appreciate the effort to create and include named female characters like Tauriel, when the book is sadly lacking in them. I think she's fine, actually. Comparatively, there are many other elements in these adaptations that I think are much, MUCH worse.

But still, if you want to add female characters to this story, the obvious answer to me seems to be to just make half the Company into dwarf women? (With similarly fancy beards and other facial hair! Because I think that's fun.) It's just... so much easier?

Do NOT come at me with that "dwarf women are rare" bullshit. Unreliable narration. Logistically unlikely. Also, if you believe that "men are the warriors and craftsmen, the women stay at home" is how dwarf society strictly functions (boring, honestly, on top of being incredibly sexist), I could argue that the Battle of Azanulbizar and other struggles probably left a significant dent in this dwarf group's male population, leaving behind many widows and mothers without children to pick up the work. The battlefields have come to and TAKEN both Erebor and Moria from the dwarves. I see no good reason why dwarf women would not have equal investment in reclaiming their home and the gold. Many of the Company are not presented to be formally trained warriors, anyway.

Now, ideally, we could do way queerer stuff in terms of both romance and gender here, but we know cowards with veto powers would not let this happen. Still, I feel like basic genderbending would have been a very doable move and is, actually, a very reasonable ask of an adaptation that would have added some depth to the story even if you didn't acknowledge the change at all.

Like, preferably, this would be an adaptational change that would be directly addressed. Maybe all of the Company appear male at first due to traveling that way (and assumptions made by humans and hobbits), then Bilbo might learn that some of the Company are dwarf women when he becomes closer to all of them. We could have a brief scene acknowledging that dwarf women are fighting these battles for their pasts and their futures too. It doesn't have to be a big thing! They can just be there. Existing. Participating.

I even think it would be fun if two of the dwarves were actually an older married couple traveling together, instead of brothers or cousins, because loving married bickering and battle couples are fun. You can have running jokes in the background about how Smaug's invasion ruined their wedding day, and going back and forth with "you never take me anywhere nice" @ each other whenever they're stuck in Goblintown or the Mirkwood dungeons. (I like seeing good marriages & partnerships in fiction and established couples going on fantasy quests together. I just think it's neat.)

But another (sillier) direction is that you could just cast some actresses in beards to play some of the dwarves, then leave the fact that some of these characters are probably dwarf women (traveling as men) as a fun detail for the audience. Bilbo is either too oblivious to notice or much too polite to bring it up at all. It's canonically compliant to the text this way!

Now, obviously some few people would have complained that Tolkien's work was being ruined by "political correctness", but they complained anyway about Tauriel (when there are MANY other bad choices in these movies), and what worthwhile arguments could they have possibly made against genderbending some of the THIRTEEN dwarves? Like, most casual fans I know cannot NAME the entire Company, who get so little character development in the book that the films had to come up with unique designs and backgrounds for most of them anyway. Bro (directed towards someone objecting to the idea of including female dwarves), be real, there's no way that you honestly cared this much about "Nori the Dwarf" before right now.

[dayurno]

this is somewhat of a vent post & something i said i would not do again but has been plaguing me enough that i think getting it out might feel better. so. has anydoggy else been. Baffled and upset by nora sakavic’s refusal to speak on how terribly aftg has treated its characters of color? with the author of the series coming back with a new book and starting up on her online activity again, and questions of what she’d change about aftg bubbling up, it’s particularly glaring to me that we are all playing this very long game of pretend where we ignore how badly the non-white cast has been treated & her lack of thoughts on it

and i understand not wanting to bring up nicky and thea because people pick on her for it. i’m not trying to discredit nora sakavic’s terrible history of getting harrassed online by aftg fans. but i think it is very cynical, and it is very juvenile, and most of all very cruel, that she gets to ignore the very real ways the books have set up these characters to be hated. i think it’s obvious why the characters who get the most hate are the only canonical characters of color, and i think we do not get to treat this like a deliberate decision on the fandom’s part when the books have put these same characters in degrading and embarrassing and terrible positions in the first place. aftg is not a story about nice characters with clean pasts, but there is a very specific nastiness to the only characters of color being a brown man who sexually harasses and later assaults the main character, a black woman whose only scene is her lashing out at her love interest after being ignored for the first two books, and the japanese villain who gets maybe two lines of complexity before he goes back to being a terrible person. the white cast, in comparison, while not at all free from flaws, are never shown to commit mindless evil; all of their actions are ultimately justified. the book goes out of its way to give them concession after concession. we know exactly who to side with, because aftg tells us who these people are. does nicky’s assault ever get addressed in the books? does riko’s reasoning to be the way that he is ever gets more than briefly aluded to? is thea reserved even a shred of humanity or grace in her one scene?

anyway. it’s been years of talking about this and the fandom has been constantly hostile to criticism in this regard, and more recently any criticism at all, and it’s Grating to be on the other side of this discussion. it’s exhausting to know that in ten years we do not get even an acknowledgment besides the author saying she will not answer questions about nicky and thea anymore. it’s upsetting and it’s ugly and i wish no one had to talk about this again, but we do because what i thought was common sense has been washed away by a sudden influx of no-nuance adoration for the trilogy. basically i hope we all explode

[lovelyhan]

Kai hi! Don't know how and why but, I've been experiencing severe Seventeen brainrot in general so, I'm here to supply hard thoughts. (Also, I reread the JeongCheol x Reader trilogy you wrote and it remains a favourite of mine.)

I don't know who to start with so, I'll go with my man lol. The thought of being forced to cum on Cheol's ridiculously thick fingers makes me need to sit down. You know he'd be running his mouth too and, telling you how good you're doing for him.

the svt brainrot is well-deserved <3 and JAAHFJHD i'm so touched you reread inflection point thank you so much TT BUT HELLO? being forced to cum on cheol's fingers.... [kai.exe has stopped working]?!??!?

it kind of reminds me of the oneshot i wrote after he posted those pics on ig :| his fingers,,, what i'd do to get to cum around them /gen,, you can treat this drabble as a short continuation to that fic :3c

⟣ forced orgasm with cheol ⟢ wc: 0.8k words minors do not interact!

Choi Seungcheol is a man of his word.

When he tells you he'll pick you up at seven o'clock on a Friday evening despite his harrowing schedule, he'll pull up at the curb in front of your apartment with five minutes to spare. When he promises to call you every night he's away on tour, he'll phone you despite the time differences, and the fact that he sounds way too tired to be asking you about your day.

So when your boyfriend promises to stuff you full the next time you see each other, you know better than to call his bluff.

About twenty minutes since he hung up, you hear the telltale knocking on your door. You don't bother putting your underwear back on -- fully confident of the identity of your late-night visitor.

It's safe to say that when Seungcheol sees you behind the crack in the door wearing nothing but a flimsy tank top with your pert nipples straining against the fabric, you were completely at his mercy.

You don't even make it back to your room. Seungcheol simply brushes past you and makes himself comfortable on your couch -- dark eyes hooded with equal parts arousal and disappointment as he manspreads all over the cushions. Fuck.

"If I wasn't the one who was outside, what would've you done then?" he asks gruffly. "I didn't know you were such a fucking slut, princess. Answering the door wearing nothing but that top of yours. Might as well have done it naked."

You humor him with a laugh before striding over to take a seat on one of his thighs, making a mess of his sweatpants as you rub your needy pussy all over the fabric.

"That's just how badly I need you, Cheol," you whimper, sliding your hips against his thigh for the friction you've been craving since you saw those pictures he posted. When you feel those big, warm hands of his sliding up your thighs, you can't help the moan that spills from your lips.

"Turn around and sit on my lap," he commands, and you're much too willing to comply.

The moment your back is pressed against his broad chest, Seungcheol pries your legs apart -- gathering your slick between his fingers before prodding your lips with them. When your boyfriend whispers a quiet, "That's my girl," you practically preen at his praise.

And that's how you find yourself writhing on your boyfriend's lap as he fucks you open on his thick, large fingers -- whining and crying as your walls clamp down on each digit. Seungcheol deigned to start with three, as you've already loosened yourself up during that sultry phone call you shared before he came over, and he delights in how depraved you are from his mere fingers alone.

"Such a good fucking girl for me, aren't you?" he rasps, sinking those digits into your cunt before curling them just so. "You miss me that much, baby? Want to keep me all to yourself?"

"F-Fuck, Cheol!"

You can't even bring yourself to respond. He's so thick, and so, so deep, and he hasn't even brought out his dick yet. But when your brain manages to make you remember how you felt seeing all those fans thirsting for your boyfriend, you end up hissing through your teeth as you grind down on his hand.

"Mine, mine, mine. You're mine," you mewl, barely hearing the sound of Seungcheol's amused laughter before he smashes your lips together.

"All yours, princess," he whispers, and you cry out when those few, subtle words end up becoming the catalyst for your inevitable release.

But even as your walls spasm around his fingers, Seungcheol is relentless. He continues fucking into your cunt with unending fervor -- as if he means to engrave the idea of how much he's missed you as well into your body. You're practically twitching on his lap as he mumbles an incoherent string of words against the skin of your neck, but you're not exactly in the right headspace to tell him off.

"My beautiful baby, always so pretty when you cum for me," is what you first hear when the white noise finally recedes from your ears. You realize that you're still moving your hips despite the overstimulation, so fucking desperate to have any part of him inside you again. "You want more? I've fucked you stupid with my fingers alone, and you still want more?"

You do. You do want more.

"I remember a certain someone saying he'll blow my back out the moment he's back here with me," you sigh, tilting your head so you can kiss the corner of his mouth. "Is he going to make good on his promise?"

The ravenous glint in his eyes is enough of an answer. After all...

Choi Seungcheol is a man of his word.

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Do You Want Me, Cyar'ika [happy]

Dark!Din Djarin x Jedi!Female Reader

Warnings: HEY THIS IS DARK WATCH OUT, stalking, manhandling, slight choking if you kind of squint, dubcon (reader is willing, but is def under the influence of the darksaber), smut, hand job, mentions of blood and injury, mentions of permanent scarring of the reader

Word Count: 6,717

Summary: Din Djarin is a man who lost everything. His home, his son, his Creed. But at the end of the day, he still had you. He still had you, and he was determined to keep you. Part One: Ni Ceta, Cyar'ika Part Two: I Love You, Cyar'ika

[a/n: THIS IS THE HAPPY ENDING TO THIS TRILOGY. My suggestion is to read the version you really want first b/c the beginning half is the exact same. It's only the end that differs.]

.

"sometimes, you just need a fresh start. a new beginning. a clean slate. just get rid of everything going wrong and make it go right." -the importance of starting over

.

The echoing of your footsteps bounced off the walls and the quick pace seemed to match the racing of your heart. No looking back. You needed to get to the tarmac. Din was supposed to be in the war room with Bo Katan and the others in his council discussing something or another. This morning he had told you that he wouldn’t be able to meet you for lunch until a bit later in the afternoon. Half an hour after he had told you this, you grabbed your stuff and started running. 

You had the right idea months ago when you first tried to leave. This was going to be your last chance. If he caught you this time you don’t know that you’d ever get the chance to run away again. Memories of that beskar chain and anklet hung heavy in your mind as you picked up your pace. A terrifying thought occurred to you. Would he stop there? How far would Din go to keep you by his side? You truly believed, deep down, that Din wouldn’t hurt you, but… were you just being delusional? At some point, he’d consider the line to be crossed.

The tarmac was mostly empty. The few Mandalorians that were in the area gave you curious looks, but nobody dared stop you. That was a side effect of being ‘owned’ by the Mand’alor and though you found it disturbing previously it was truly working in your favor now. Everybody on this rock, save for a few people like Bo Katan, were too terrified of Din to even look in your direction for longer than a few seconds. As you sprinted to the closest ship you knew how to pilot, the Mandalorians began to disperse. You had a suffocating suspicion that they were in the process of calling Din.

You made it further than you had last time. You were on the ship, ramp closing behind you, and you clambered into the cockpit and got things running. As the ship slowly began to rise, you saw him. Din stood at the edge of the tarmac with his hands on his hips. The wind tunneling through the ship’s exhaust and down onto the ground below caused Din’s thick cape and hair to whip around. Even from this distance, you could feel Din’s gaze burning straight through you. The look on his face was haunting⏤ a mix of devastation and unbridled rage. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away. Even after the ship was in the atmosphere and Din was far out of view, you stared down at Mandalore in pain. Your chest ached as your heart already begun to miss the man you were running from.

Before allowing yourself to wallow, you input the coordinates to Tatooine and let the ship slip into hyperdrive. The second those all too familiar lines of blurred space cast a blue glow in the cockpit, you pulled your knees up into your chest to bury your face there. If somebody were to ask you the exact reason why tears streamed down your face you would not be able to give them an answer.

You just knew, everything was wrong.

You agonized over who to send a message to. As you drew ever near to Tatooine, doubts began to plague your mind. Should you reach out to Boba and Fennec? They were obvious choices because they cared about Din and they knew how to hold their own in a fight. However, you had a nagging fear at the back of your mind that would not silence. It blared like a ghostly siren. Din was not himself right now, and though you knew without a doubt that he would not hurt you, could the same be said for Boba and Fennec? Especially if they stood in the way of Din getting to you?

You hated that you were unsure of that.

You hated that a part of you honestly thought Din might hurt his friends or worse.

There was no changing course though. The best solution you had was to get in touch with Luke Skywalker. He might have answers about this. Even if he didn’t, having him and Ahsoka by your side would help. Three Jedi surely could get that cursed saber away from Din. Granted, there was no assurance that separating the saber from the love of your life would actually work, but it was all you had. It was the last bit of hope you could cling to. 

Upon your arrival to Tatooine, you immediately slunk away to a crowded cantina. You were not a fool. You knew Din was not just going to let you wander away and you knew he was one of the deadliest bounty hunters in the galaxy. He was very good at what he did⏤ especially when passionate about the mission. That didn’t leave you very much time to get the information you needed. 

You sent out a decoded distress message to the number Skywalker had left you when he took Grogu. He left it strictly for emergencies and this obviously classified as one. After it was out in the universe, all you could do was wait. So you saddled up to the bar, sat on a stool, and ordered a drink. It was all you could think to do. This was the first time in ages that you were in a space not clouded by Din’s presence. You hadn’t realized until now how suffocating it had been.

Being with Din, watching his slow descent, you had gotten accustomed to that cloud of darkness that hung over his head. To the point where you didn’t notice it worsening and worsening. It felt as if your body had acclimated to living under the ocean. Your body grew used to the crushing depths. Your lungs shriveled from the lack of oxygen. Your eyes grew blind from the absence of light. Now? Sitting at this dingy, dirty bar, it was as if someone had forced you up from the ocean floor and dragged you quickly up to the surface. It was jarring. The fresh air was painful as it filled your lungs, your eyes burned from the disappearance of darkness, and suddenly it was freedom that felt wrong. 

A sudden beeping made you glance down at the communicator. Eyes wide, you answered it, “Hello? Luke Skywalker?” Your name was spoken over the line in concern. “Thank the Maker. I⏤ Din and I are in trouble.”

“What has happened?”

“It’s…” You took in a slow breath and began to walk him through what was going on. You started with the moment he took Grogu and described every single downward step the two of you had taken with the saber in his possession. When you finished, your throat felt thick with emotion. “I got away, but he’ll be after me soon. I know it. Luke, I… I don’t know what to do. I just know I need help, and I’m too afraid to go to anybody other than you.”

“You were right to reach out to me.” Luke sighed. “This needs to be handled by us. No need to risk anyone else.”

The thought flickered through your head without warning. You were okay with putting Luke Skywalker and Ahsoka in danger. It came quickly and you swatted it away just as fast, but it felt like poison. Obviously, Boba and Fennec meant more to you than Luke and Ahsoka. You were closer to the first two. However, it still didn’t make risking the lives of the latter two okay. The fact that the belief attempted to nestle in your head reminded you of the dark saber. Your hand wrapped around your own lightsaber⏤ seeking comfort in the energy it radiated.

“You believe he’ll follow you, correct?” Luke questioned.

“Absolutely.” You answered without an ounce of hesitation.

Luke hummed on the other end of the line in thought. “I will send you coordinates. Come to us. The Mandalorian will follow and we will handle this from there. You just need to get here. Can you do that?”

“Yeah.” You nodded your head, trying to convince yourself. “I can. I’ll leave as soon as you send me those coordinates.”

“Of course. Call us again if you have trouble.”

“Thank you.”

The call ended and you threw back the remainder of the drink before rushing for the door. It would take fifteen minutes to get to the tarmac and you assumed you’d get the coordinates by then to use. The crowded Tatooine streets made you anxious. Shoulders clipped into yours as people rushed past you in the opposite direction. It felt like there were eyes burning into your skin, but every scan of the crowd told you it had to just be your paranoia. 

Your communicator beeped again and a quick glance down revealed the coordinates you’d be heading to. Good. You quickened your pace to turn a corner to the last leg of the path that would take you to the public tarmac when you spotted him. A flash of glinting silver under the hot Tatooine suns. Your feet came to a screeching halt, and for a moment the two of you stood stock still. Din was down the road. Closer to the tarmac’s entrance than to you. His hands rested on his hips, and he was helmetless. Even from this distance the darkness swimming in his brown eyes sent a chill down your spine. He had been a sight to behold in his full armor, a faceless figure of intimidation. However, you knew now that it was worse without the helmet. Actually seeing those burning eyes, rather than just feel them, made your stomach flip.

The crowd ebbed and flowed, a small group passing between the two of you, and when they passed fully Din was gone. You couldn’t see him. Without a second more of hesitation, you spun on your heel and sprinted in the opposite direction of where he had been standing. The public tarmac was a bust. You’d never be able to successfully route yourself back around, but you still needed a ship.

Peli’s shop. As soon as it came to mind, you altered course to head in that direction. You prayed that Peli wasn’t home. Hopefully she’d be out losing credits to a group of jawas in sabbac or conning some poor sap at the market. Your chest burned in the effort it took to keep your quick pace, your heart pounded painfully, and you could still feel Din’s eyes on you. Every time you glanced over your shoulder or down alleys there was no sign of silver, but you knew⏤ you just knew⏤ that he was hot on your heels somehow. 

You finally reached Peli’s shop and the garage was closed which meant she was not home, but you remembered the way in through the back. Peli had shown it to you and Din ages ago. Even if she didn’t have a client’s ship sitting in the bay, you could steal her land speeder and come up with a different plan from there. Once in, your eyes landed on a small ship parked in the main bay and your lips curled up into a relieved smile. Find the FOB, get the ship open and started. You rushed to Peli’s office and cursed the wrecked state it was in. Her baseline was chaotic and it showed in her organization choices. You dug through the mess until you found a FOB that seemed to match the ship waiting for you.

Victorious, you sprinted out of the office back down to the bay, but the second your feet stepped into the open area something hard slammed into you. The air was knocked from your lungs as you landed on the ground. Din’s features stared down at you as his body straddled yours. One of his gloved hands pinned down your dominant hand while the other clamped down on your throat⏤ not enough to restrict air, but just enough to convey his warning. You could see your fearful eyes reflected in the beskar covering him as he towered over you. Din’s face didn’t look angry or worried. He didn’t look scared or confused. Din looked cold. Emotionless. Somehow that was worse.

“Din⏤”

“Don’t.” Din said sharply. The fingers on your neck flexed once. “Don’t speak, cyar’ika.”

More suffocating than his demeanor and broad figure was the poisonous energy seeping out of the saber hung on his belt. You were drowning in it, struggling to keep your head above it’s dark waters, and Din was pushing you beneath the waves. He held you under. Din was a man drowning and in your attempt to rescue him he was dragging you to the depths as well. 

“How could you do this to me?” Din asked. His voice cracked⏤ the only sign of his pain. “Cyar’ika, you…” Din swallowed. A flash of heartbreak filled his expressive brown eyes and the degree of his hurt briefly made you feel guilty. Like you had been the one to betray him. “I love you. You are my everything. I would burn the world for you. How could⏤ How could you leave?”

“I never asked for you to burn the world for me, Din.” You whispered. “That’s not what I want.”

Din shifted and leaned down so he could rest his forehead against yours. His hand hung loosely around your throat, forearm pressed against your chest, and it was a position your body was familiar with. If you closed your eyes and gave into the darkness trying to claw its way down your throat and into your lungs, then you’d simply feel like you were sharing a private moment of intimacy with your love. Din’s lips suddenly ghosted against yours and you felt your body tremble.

“What is it you want?” Din begged. “I will give you anything. I just want you safe by my side.”

“I told you what I want, Din…”

Din sighed, his hot breath fanning across your lower face, “I can’t do that.” His voice was strained as if her were in agony. “The saber is how I protect you, cyar’ika.”

“You’re losing me because of that saber, baby.”

For the longest moment, Din remained silent. His eyes were closed and you could see him ruminating over something. After a second, he opened his eyes and Din’s eyebrows furrowed in defeat. A flicker of hope burned in your chest until he opened his mouth and spoke. 

“Things were okay. We just need to start from scratch again. I know you hated that chain, cyar’ika, but it’s for the best.” Din said softly and your eyes widened at how serious his words were. How much he believed that to truly be the best path. “It won’t be forever, I swear it. Just until I trust you again.”

“Din⏤”

“No.” Din snapped. His soft despair turning to a firm demand. “There will be no argument. I’m taking you home.” You opened your mouth once more, but Din’s fingers began to tighten around your throat marginally. “You’re already in trouble, cyar’ika. Don’t make it worse.”

Panic began to make your heart race. You were sinking fast and the light was beginning to disappear from your sight⏤ your freedom with it. In a poor attempt at a final chance of survival, you spoke up despite his order to stay silent. “I just wanted to say sorry.”

Din scoffed. “You understand why I find it hard to believe you.”

“I know.” You nodded. “Please, baby. I’m sorry. Please believe me. You know I love you.”

You could feel Din’s thumb around your neck tracing the skin under it as he stared down at you. He took in a deep breath and leaned in to press his forehead against yours once more. Din brushed his lips lightly against yours. “You’re always so pretty when you beg, cyar’ika.” That was the one thing you had working in your favor. Din always had a hard time telling you ‘no’ when your bodies were folded together like this. “I’ll hear you out, but let’s get to our ship first.”

“Why not now? Let me tell you how sorry I am, Din.” You begged and he let out a soft sigh as his eyes closed. Your eyes darted to the saber on his belt. If you ended up back on Mandalore it would be over. There would be no second chance. Determined, you rolled your hips up and just as you suspected you were met with the firmness of his half hard cock. Din groaned. “Let me show you how sorry I am.” Your non-dominant hand had been clutching at the hand he had at your throat, but you very slowly let it travel up his arm to bury in his soft hair. “Please, baby.”

You tilted your head up as much as you could with Din’s hand clamped around your neck. Carefully, in fear that too quick or sudden a movement would break the spell, you began to pull Din down closer. Din hesitated against the slight force of your hand only for a second before he slotted his lips against yours. As always, Din’s touch set you aflame. He released the wrist he had pinned and hooked that hand under your thigh to spread your legs so he could settle between them rather than straddle you. You should be focused on escape alone, but the taste of him made you hungry for more. You weren’t sure how much was your love for Din and how much was the saber twisting it into something recognizable. 

Din’s teeth caught your lower lip, and he pulled back a breath, “You’re supposed to be showing me how sorry you are, cyar’ika.” He leaned back down to lick into your mouth, his kiss crushing and near painful as Din’s hips pressed firmly against yours. He left his lips close enough that you felt every word he spoke. “Yet here I am…” Din gave a sharp thrust and even with layers of clothes between the two of you he was able to snap the bulge of his erection right where your clit was hidden. You gasped at the pleasure that rocketed up your spine as hot pangs arousal pooled in your lower belly. “...doing all the damn work.”

At his words, you closed the space to press your lips against his again, deepening the kiss, as your hands traveled to his belt. You undid his belt with practiced ease, and while one hand slipped under the waistband of his flight suit to find the base of his cock the other went to grasp the saber.

Your fingers brushed against the thrumming metal of the saber for only a second before Din’s hand slapped on top of yours pinning it to the saber. Everything froze. Din and you were both panting, breathless from your kiss. You had one hand stuffed into his pants with your hand pressed against his skin on the space above the base of his cock and the other on the saber. Din had one hand tightening around your neck while his other crushed your fingers against the darksaber. He chuckled and the sound sent chills throughout your body.

“Let go, Cyar’ika.” Din’s voice was gruff and seemed to rumble out from his chest. You began to try and pull both hands back, but Din grunted. “Not both. Just the saber.” You sucked in a sharp breath and remained frozen. “What? You don’t want to finish what you started?” He shoved one hand down his pants to roughly grab yours and force your hand to wrap around the entirety of his throbbing cock. It was like this tense moment was spurning him onwards⏤ filling him with a thrill you had never seen before. “I thought you were sorry.”

You hated how his words made your own core ache with want. 

Din snapped the saber off his belt tossed it off to the side. Too far for you too reach, but close enough that its influence weighed heavy on you still. He did the same to your own weapon which was hooked in its usual place on your belt. Din threw that one further, more carelessly, before lowering his face back down toward yours. His hand was still wrapped around yours, and Din thrusted into your dry grip. It couldn't be comfortable you thought, but Din moaned in your ear as if it were already drunk in pleasure.

“Din…” You murmured.

His hot mouth enveloped yours, tongue licking into you, as he thrusted twice more. Din’s teeth caught your lower lip again, but this time he bit down hard enough that the taste of metallic blood flashed across your taste buds. You yelped, he thrusted into your grip, and then Din pulled back just enough that you could see his lips painted with the red of your own blood.

“Are you going to make me take you?” He asked in a harsh whisper. “Or will you come willingly?” Din pressed his bloodstained lips against the side of your face, dragging, and you shuddered as a cold, but tempting, chill filled your body. “I’ll spend eternity chasing you, cyar’ika, but it will be more enjoyable if you just agree to be mine again.”

His lips found yours once more, and for one second you weren’t in your body. Your mind clouded with a sort of vision. You saw Din sitting on Mandalore’s throne splattered with blood he had drawn from others and his features masked in a cold indifference. The saber was not on his belt, but any confusion you had on it’s location faded as a different version of you came into view. She wore an elegant and revealing gown that was as dark as a starless night, and the inactive saber was held tight in her grip as blood covered her hands and left a trail of red petals as she passed. While Din’s face held a cold indifference this version of you looked feral with enjoyment. 

She settled herself on Din’s lap and the mask he wore cracked to reveal adoration as he stared up at this other you in awe. Without wasting a beat, this unrecognizable version of yourself pulled Din into a firm kiss. The blood on the hands that resembled yours smeared against his stainless beskar, and the blood on his face left smears along features you spent your entire life staring at in a mirror. Suddenly, the other you broke away to turn and it seemed she was glaring directly at you.

The saber in her hand activated and burned with a soul sucking energy that seemed to draw you in.

“Be mine.” Din’s voice snapped you back into the moment. “Be my queen, cyar’ika. I want no else.” He pressed his lips to yours again but in a way that was too soft to match the rest of this situation. The tip of his tongue dragged through the torn tissue of your lower lip and you shivered. “Let me protect you as you rule by my side.”

And you wanted it. It was like your body had finally reached the lowest depths and your lungs were filling with the dark water you were drowning in. It was almost peaceful allowing yourself to settle into the cold⏤ allowing it to swallow you whole. Distantly, you could feel the crystal in your lightsaber desperately calling out to you, but you were certain no light could reach you where you were. Cold turned to pleasure as Din’s hands began to map the familiar planes of your body. 

“I’ve always been yours.” You whispered. Din molded his lips to yours and he pulled your hand out from where it was hidden under his waistband so he could have to room and access to begin frantically undoing your own belt. You lifted your hips so he could tug your pants down past your ass and off entirely. He didn’t bother with his own pants, deciding to just tug them down enough to be useful, and  Din settled between your legs. As he worked himself out of his pants he planted his lips against the hollow of your neck.

You tilted your chin up, panting, as you gave him more room to work his tongue against the skin there. Every atom of your being was throbbing and aching for the man on top of you, but briefly a glimmer of pain lanced through your heart. A reminder. You thought you were too deep in for the light to reach you, but your lightsaber’s call managed one faint echo. A weak lifeline back to the surface. Without thinking, your hand reached reached out to where the sabers were cast aside and for the first time in your life you felt the Force do more than just read an energy. It enveloped the space around you and seconds later something firm was in the palm of your hand.

You cried out, managing to roll Din and yourself over so you now straddled him. The saber activated in your hand and rather than the warm familiar glow you wanted, you were greeted by the soul sucking, burning energy of the darksaber lighting up in your hands. Your eyes widened in alarm. The power that washed over you was overwhelming. It rocketed up your arm and pierced your very soul. Din laid on the ground under you as you stared at the cold glow of the saber burning in your hands, and you heard him begin to laugh in amusement. 

“Maker, you’ve never looked prettier, cyar’ika.” Din grinned⏤ the look in his dark eyes was wild with desire. “How does it feel?”

Your skin was crawling as if someone was holding a live wire to it. A tremor shook your body and it took you a moment to detangle your mind away from the raw pleasure that screamed out to you. The darksaber was sinking it’s cold claws into every aspect of who you were and you could feel your reality slipping away from you. You tightened your hand around the hilt and began to squeeze. It was hard to focus the Force to bend to your will with the darksaber’s influence pressing down on you, but you clenched your teeth and squeezed harder. The crack of bending metal filled the air.

“No.” Din growled and his hands roughly pawed at you, to try and take the saber from your grip, but you raised your hands up above your head and continued to squeeze until you felt actual pain began to seep into your body. “Stop! Don’t!” 

The metal cracked further, heat began to lick out of the hilt as the saber’s burning energy flickered and grew wild. It was burning your hands, leaving the flesh it touched raw. Din screamed out at you to stop again, but you couldn’t hear him over the high pitched ringing the darksaber’s kyber crystal seemed to emit. The saber was angry⏤ the saber was scared. You focused every bit of your body’s energy to channel the Force. You screamed in agony as the saber was crushed under your grip. The crystal cracked and the energy stored in it grew volatile and unstable. With one final push of power, the crystal shattered into pieces within the crushed hilt of the saber and the release of energy blew you backwards into the dirt. 

Your ears from ringing from the blast. Your head ached painfully, you could feel blood matted in your hair from where the back of your head had slammed into the ground, but it was hard to focus on anything other than the miserable and excruciating pain that was radiating up your arms. Shakily, you lifted your hands up to try and examine them. Even though your sight was growing blurry, you could still make out the state of your hands. Scorched flesh, raw and torn, greeted you and warm blood was dripping from the spots where jagged bits of kyber crystal embedded in your skin. It rained down on you.

“No, no, no, no.”

Din was suddenly in your line of vision as he cupped the side of your face in fear and disbelief. Your hands, heavy with exhaustion, fell limp and they didn’t even hurt much anymore. You were having trouble feeling anything actually. “Please, Maker, no.” Din gasped. His voice was ragged and hoarse. Tears were swimming in his eyes and for the first time in ages, you recognized the clarity. “Cyar’ika, no, please…”

Your lips twitched up in a smile as you gazed up at him. You sighed in relief, “It’s you.” Din’s face crumpled as the tears streaked down his cheeks as he tried to pull you closer. “You’re back, baby.”

His voice seemed far away. As your eyelids grew heavy, you still felt content. If these were to be your last moments you were more than happy to share them with Din Djarin. Your Din Djarin. Pure and kind hearted. Loving and soft. Darkness seemed to envelope you, but it was not the cold darkness the saber used to force you into. This was warm and tender. You felt enveloped in love and your own kyber crystal, loyal and strong, whispered a lullaby as you relaxed into sleep.

.

[three months later]

.

It took you ages to find Din. After waking up in Boba’s palace, post bacta tank infusion, you realized he had slipped away without a word. Boba and Fennec had comforted you, but the only message Din left you was a soft apology passed down along friends. The fact that he hid from you was proof enough that the darksaber’s influence was gone from him. You felt it no longer either. Occasionally, you’d wake from a nightmare and a lingering darkness would cloud your thoughts, but it always dissipated with the morning light. 

You walked slowly toward the bench where he sat armorless. Din wasn’t wearing a shred of beskar, had not a single weapon on him, as he rested his elbows on his knees and stared into the distance where rolling hills and mountains sat. What made him hard to track was he stayed constantly on the move, but you were surprised that this was where he allowed you to catch up with him. You stopped by his side, Din didn’t turn to look at you, and you followed his gaze to see Grogu far in the distance sitting with Luke Skywalker on the crest of a small mountain.

“I don’t know why I came here.” Din mumbled quietly. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Din⏤”

“I don’t deserve to be here.” He added. Din hung his head down and lifted his hands to rub at his face in exhaustion. He shook his head once. “I was supposed to leave before your ship ever entered the atmosphere, but I… I got stuck.”

That made more sense. In a moment of weakness, he stopped to see his son and he hadn’t been able to tear himself away to flee you like he usually did. You reached out to touch his shoulder, but your fingers only managed to graze his shirt before he pushed to stand began to stalk away.

“Din!” You cried out and followed his brisk pace. He walked back to where his small ship at waiting. “Din, please, wait.”

“Leave, cyar’ika.” Din replied firmly.

“No.” You snapped and raced up the ramp into his ship’s tiny cargo hold to slide into his path to stop him. You expected to see anger in his eyes from your disruption, but the only emotion his large brown eyes conveyed was pain and desperation. You felt your heart ache at the way he stared down at you in misery. You shook your head. “Din, will you please talk to me?”

Din swallowed, his voice was hoarse, “There is nothing to talk about.” 

You reached out to rest your hands on his chest, and he glanced down to stare at them. The bacta tank had saved your hands and left you with full use of them, but the scarring remained. The skin was discolored with burn scars and jagged lines where kyber crystals had pierced your skin and left their mark. 

“This wasn’t your fault, baby.” You whispered as you noticed how intently he was staring at your hands. Din shook his head and tried to pull away from your touch but you tightened your hands into fists⏤ clutching his shirt like a lifeline. “Din, I don’t blame you.”

“You should!” Din suddenly yelled and your eyes widened. His hands wrapped around your wrists as he held your gaze. His voice shook. “You should blame me.” Din took in a sharp gasp. “This was all my fault. I was weak.”

“Din.”

“I remember it all.” Din closed his eyes in agony. “Maker, I⏤ I was manhandled you. I chained you to the fucking wall. Held you hostage.”

“Din⏤”

“Hunted you down like a bounty. Forced you into the position where you had to use your body just to distract me so you⏤ I⏤ Maker. Even if you don’t blame me, cyar’ika, I do. I don’t deserve access to my weapons. I don’t deserve the armor of a Mandalorian. I don’t deserve you.”

You held onto him tighter as he tried to pull your hands away from him. “I love you, Din.” He scoffed. “I do. I love you. The darksaber was to blame for all of that and I stayed by your side because I knew that and I refused to lose you to it. I stayed knowing the risk.” Din’s eyes were still shut tightly, but you could see tears collect in his eyelashes. “And I can’t lose you now.”

“Cyar’ika…” He mumbled.

“Open your eyes.” You demanded. You released his shirt but only so you could cup his face with your hands. Din’s entire body trembled under your touch and his hands squeezed your wrists. “Baby, open your eyes and look at me.” Finally, after an agonizing moment, Din opened his eyes and you offered him a small smile. “I love you.” He let out a shaky gasp. “And I can’t sit idly by while you punish yourself for sins that you shouldn’t have to bear. Please don’t run from me. Please let me stay. I’ll keep following you all over the galaxy if I have to or⏤ or if you don’t want me then I’ll… I’ll stop. If that’s what you really want, then I won’t follow.” Din leaned into your touch. “I’m not trying to control or torture you with my presence, I just… I miss you, baby.”

Din closed his eyes again and loosened his grip on your wrists so he could trace them up and lay them over your smaller hands resting on his jaw. He sighed. “I hurt you.” His thumbs traced the scarred skin on the back of your hands. “I did this to you.”

“No, you didn’t. The darksaber did, and I chose to fight that damned thing.”

“If I had been stronger against it then you never would’ve had to.”

“You had no way of knowing, Din.” You shook your head. “It even took me a while to realize how dangerous that saber was and I’m Force sensitive. Nobody in the galaxy would have been able to resist the influence of that kyber crystal even if they knew what it could do. You were blindsided by it.”

Din opened his eyes. “You resisted against it.”

You pressed your lips together then pulled his face toward yours so his forehead was resting against yours. “I knew what it was doing, and it was still the hardest thing I have ever done.” You admitted. “Even now I still feel that darkness crawling across my skin in the dead of the night. Like a ghost haunting me.” You tightened your grip on his jaw. “But you know how I did it?” Din didn’t respond, but you pressed onward. “I did it because I wasn’t going to let anything take you from me. I was not going to let it keep your soul⏤ I was not going to lose you.” Quickly, you pushed forward a pressed a chaste lip to his lips. “Not then. Not now. I will always fight for you. Even if it’s your own guilt I have to fight.”

“Do you want me, cyar’ika?” Din whispered⏤ his voice so soft and faint you almost thought you imagined it. 

You caressed your thumbs against his cheekbones. “I will always want you, baby. Always.”

To prove your point, you tenderly slotted your lips against his. You stayed motionless, just holding him to you, and you could feel a tear trace the outline of your thumb before reaching his lips. It was as if the taste of his salty tear awakened something in him. Din’s mouth began to move against yours desperately. You shifted your hands down and around his neck to cling to him. Din’s own arms wrapped tightly around your torso so he could pull you flush against his body. 

His lips suddenly left your lips to press sloppy, desperate kisses against your jawline then down your neck. Between every touch of his lips against your skin he whispered an apology or an exclamation of love. You tried to drag his lips back up to yours, but he surprised you by falling to his knees. You gasped and stared down at him. Din rested on his heels as his hands hugged the back of your thighs. He stared up at you in adoration, but you could still see agony there as well.

“I am so sorry.” He pleaded like a man begging in prayer at an altar. “I love you, and I am so sorry. I could spend an eternity reminding you of that and it still would not be enough to express how I feel.” Din leaned forward and rest his forehead against your hip. “Ni cuy’ nass ures gar. Ni cuy’ osi’yaim. Ni cuy’ hut’uun.”

You slowly peeled his forehead away from your hip and his hands off your thighs so you could kneel in front of him as well. You held his face once more and wiped away the lingering tears that stained his cheeks. “Cin vhetin.” Din’s eyes widened at the words. A phrase you had Boba teach you. “That’s what I want.”

“Cyar’ika…”

“I hate seeing you speak so poorly of yourself.” Your bottom lip quivered and your throat felt thick. “It pains me to watch you hate yourself⏤ when I love you so much.” Din sucked in a sharp breath. “So, if you love me still, Din, that’s what you’ll give me. Cin vhetin.”

Din paused before he gave you a curt nod. You pulled him into a tight hug, arms clinging to his shoulders, and you were relieved to feel Din hold you just as securely. As if you were both terrified to feel the other slip away again.

.

[three months later]

.

You woke with a start, eyes snapping open in the dark of your bedroom, and the cold, cruel ghost of the darksaber gripped your spine. It crawled up slowly as you tried to push away the lingering nightmare and piece together your reality. The bed under you shifted as someone climbed in beside you. A heavy hand slipped over your abdomen as Din shifted his closer. His bare chest pressed tightly against your back as he held you close.

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” Din whispered in your ear, voice heavy with sleep. “Grogu woke up wanting a glass of water.” That was your reality. You had the love of your life back, and the green boy you and Din both adopted as your own was back in your lives. You, and the ones you loved, were nestled in your cozy home on Nevarro. Din’s lips pressed against your neck. “Riduur?” The new nickname a reminder of the peace that came with your reality. “Are you alright?”

The warmth of his skin against yours cast away the chill the memory of the darksaber brought. One of his bare, thick thighs slid between your legs until every part of you was tangled with every part of him. You let out a soft sigh of content and nodded. “I’ve never been better, baby.”

Din peppered soft kisses against your shoulders and you fell asleep safe in his arms.

.

mando'a translations:

Ni cuy’ nass ures gar: I am nothing without you. Ni cuy’ osi’yaim: I am a despicable person. Ni cuy’ hut’uun: I am a coward. Cin Vhetin: fresh start, clean slate (term indicating the erasing of a person's past when they become Mandalorian, and that they will only be judged by what they do from that point onwards)

.

[here is the dark ending]

[vinnieswife]

She’s not you

Peter Pevensie x fem! reader

words: 1,8 k

warnings: smut!, fingering, oral (fem!receiving)

Peter was lying on the sofa in his flat, spending the evening watching the new Hobbit trilogy, when he heard the door open and close again.

You came in sighing. It was so typical. You didn't know how you did it, but you always manage to pick the wrong person. After tossing the keys into the container by the front door, you made your way to the living room.

"You're home already?" Peter didn't pretend to be happy about that.

You rolled your eyes and plopped down on the couch next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. "Why do I always hang out with idiots Pete? Why can't everyone be like you?”

Peter laughed humbly. "I don't know." He lifted his arm, and you quickly snuggled into him kicking off your shoes. "What are we watching?"

"The Hobbit."

You nodded and relaxed, grabbed a blanket and covered your body and Peter's "Marie left already?"

Peter covered his legs before sighing. "She didn't come," he admitted.  You looked up from your position, your face full of confusion.

"Peter Pevensie" Peter was sitting across from you. With one arm on the back of the couch and one leg propped up against the couch, you couldn't help but smile. "Oh no, my full name," he said, pretending to be scared.

"I can't believe it! You could have made a move," you scolded him, and he scowled with a laugh "What's so funny?".

"Y/n... I don't want to make a move. "

"Why, she's beautiful!" Peter laughed again, scratching his neck lightly before shrugging. "I don't even like her that much”

In case you didn't know, Peter's heart was pounding in his ears right now. This will be the end of your friendship; God you and Peter have been friends since the crib and he would rather repress his feelings than be nothing. "You'll never get a girlfriend if you go on like this, Pevensie! What's the matter with her?"

It was the drop that filled the glass.

"Nothing, nothing, it's just that she's not you"  Your eyes widened like plates; did he really say that?. Suddenly you realised how closely the two of you were sitting together. You were still leaning on his arm. The warmth of his skin seeped through his torso and touched the exposed skin of your back. Your whole body shuddered under his gaze, your throat so dry you couldn't swallow the lump that had formed in your throat. "Don't lie to me," he regretted saying that.

"I'm not," Peter replied quietly. All confidence left him. He regretted what he said. They both stood in silence for a while, trying to figure out what had happened. "Why didn't you say anything?" you asked.

Peter sighed and clenched his jaw. "I guess I didn't want to ruin our friendship. I would have had to find somewhere else to live, and the atmosphere would have been uncomfortable" He adjusted his seat and looked down. "Like now."

"You're stupid," he laughed. You took a deep breath before continuing. "I've loved you since we were little, Peter."

His head snapped up. Now he was the one who was surprised. "You, what?"  You nodded, confirming that what you just said was true. "You were seeing someone else, I thought you didn't like me."

Peter gulped. The air in the room changed. You could feel the heat under your skin, like someone had turned up the heat. You were still looking at Peter trying to see if you were joking. It was a joke, wasn't it?  You took a deep breath. It didn't lead anywhere. You clearly weren't the type of girl to make the first move, but this was different. It was Peter. And you'd do anything for him.

One of your hands moved over his arm before placing it behind his neck. You approach him hesitantly, but Peter knew you to well, and he just leaned in to meet you lips.

You kissed me a couple of times and it all felt the same. This was wrong. It was full of love and adoration and the sweet taste of it amazed them both. But there was something else. Passion surged and took my breath away. You didn't expect Peter to kiss like this. His hand moved to your hip, pulling you closer as his kiss became more artful.

You climb onto his lap caressing his face. Peter holds you tighter. His fingers pressed against your skin, digging into the fabric of his high-waisted jeans. You practically writhed under his grip, your body pressed against his chest as you kissed, both of your minds filled with dirty thoughts.

After waiting so long, you couldn't wait to get there because the opportunity really did come. "God, y/n". You gave him a breathtaking smile before slowly pulling his shirt off.

Peter grabbed you around the waist again and pulled you closer as he began to kiss your neck. Your hand ran down his chest, tugging at his shirt, running your hand under the fabric, caressing his warm skin, feeling the taut muscles of his abdomen. He kissed your collarbone as you whispered and moaned. His lips were still kissing your skin, moving slowly over your bare breasts.

"You have no idea how much I wanted to do that." He towered over you, supporting her weight in his arms, staring down at you and pulling her to you. You couldn't believe he was really kissing you.

"Are you going to keep your eyes on me or kiss me again?" you bite your lip and smile as you look into his eyes.

He gasped and moved closer. When he pressed his lips against yours again, his hips almost crashed against yours, making you let out a choked moan. Your hands moved over his skin, down the hem of his trousers, he lets you slide your fingers under the fabric and he moaned as you begin to plan him through his trousers.

The air in the room was overwhelming , and it was burning your skin. They were already panting, gasping for kisses, devouring each other with a hunger to kill each other.

You push Peter up and reach into your tight jeans, but he grabs your hand and stops you from undoing the top button. You held your breath, waiting impatiently for Peter to finish what he had started. His hands moved painfully slowly, caressing your spread thighs, thumbs digging into your clothed skin, making you squirm before unbuttoning and unzipping your trousers. "Lift your hips for me, my dear," he murmured, concentrating more on his actions than his words. Now, you lay on the couch beneath him, wearing nothing but a pair of black panties, and you saw his expression darken, biting his lip again.

All right. "Good girl." Peter looked sophisticated and different. Flattering and seductive was a new side of him. After all, the sweet, shy boy had a dark side.

His hand stroked your leg again, you felt the goose bumps on your skin, and when his hand finally reached the edge of his black underwear, you couldn't help but gasp as you shivered. Peter looked up, finally met your gaze and leaned down to kiss you again. His kiss travelled down your body, hitting the sweet spots on your collarbone, your sternum and down your abdomen, leaving a wet trail that made you shiver.

You stood up and reached up to pull Peter closer to you. You kissed and sucked on his neck as you felt your underwear slip completely off your legs. You started touching his trousers again, feeling his erection under the fabric. "don't tease" Peter growled, gently but firmly pushing you back on the couch as you made another mark on his skin.

Your lower belly was tense, waiting to be touched and tended to. When his lips brushed the inside of hers, you moaned and felt a kind of relief and frustration at the same time. So you didn't want him to kiss you.

"Peter," you whisper, closing your eyes and concentrating on the feel of his lips against your skin. Your head dropped back onto the pillow, your hands gripped the edge of the wide couch and you felt his tongue caress your aching clit. You hadn't had sex in a long time. Peter loved teasing you about that.

He began to move slowly, up and down and side to side, deftly turning you into a moaning mess beneath him. And when you felt one of his fingers slide inside you, you couldn't even think anymore. All you were thinking about was him, Peter.

And he pushed you over the edge. A current of pleasure exploded in your lower stomach, and the knots that formed exploded, clinging to Peter's blond hair.  "Fuck" you moaned, "I'm about to-" Peter laughed, wiped his mouth with his palm and said, "Your room or mine?" he asked with a grin. Now you're skin to skin, completely exposed.

"I don't care, just fuck me."

He took you to the next room. Lying quickly on the bed, he gently laid you down and jumped on top of you. Mocking your gentleness, he looked down at your face and saw your face pucker with pleasure and a soft moan escaping your lips.

"Peter, if you don't start fucking me now, I'll do it myself" With a thrust he filled you and paused to give you time to adjust to his size.  When he was sure he wasn't going to hurt you, he pulled back almost all the way before thrusting his hips into you.

It was simply heaven. It had to be. His movements quickened as he realized his hands were taking advantage of your hips, pressing your body into the mattress and plunging you into oblivion.

"Look, you're taking me so well," he said, panting heavily. His eyes were on your face, his blue eyes and messy hair made him stunning.

You felt your lower abdomen tighten again and you let Peter know you were close again, but so did he. His thrust became unsteady and he held his weight by clinging to the headboard. Both jumped off the cliff at almost the same time.

Peter sank to the mattress, rested his head on the corner of your neck and took a deep breath. He was still clinging to the headboard and didn't want to crush you with his weight, but you didn't mind.... Panting, you gently stroked his neck.

You had no words to say. We both knew how we felt. Rising slowly, Peter got up and went to the closet. He pulled a shirt and black boxer shorts out of his wardrobe and handed you the shirt as you sat down.

Peter grabbed you again, pulled you tight against his chest and pulled the sheets over the two of you. "y/n?" he finally said.

"Huh?"

"Thank God your date went wrong”

[animelovelover123]

Marvel Master List

A list and links to all of my Marvel fanfiction works, from 2014 to present. This includes stuff I posted on other sites, not just on Tumblr. I apparently had too many stories to fit on one post so I had to separate them. Here is the list to all lists -> Master of Master Lists

If any of the links are broken or you have suggestions to make the list easier to navigate, let me know.

Pink heart divider by @superawesomelurkaccount

The shity Marvel divider was made by me in MS Paint. (Feel free to use it if you want, just give me credit for the mess I made please, thank you.)

Spideypool (Wade Wilson x Peter Parker)

Won't Wake Up Compared to Them What You Think About What Would They Say? (Part 1 of Picking Peter Up From School trilogy.) One or the Other Let Me Be Happy Left Hanging Forever What They Say (Part 2 of Picking Peter Up From School trilogy.) What Do I Care (Part 3 of Picking Peter Up From School trilogy.) A Moment To Mope An Average Morning With Steve Stark-Rogers He's Cold No One Would Care (Can be platonic.) How Peter Got Sick A Hot/Cold Date He Get's It An Omega/Alpha Story Why Did You Leave? Coming Out of the Closet It's Gotta Be Your Name  Won't Look (Part 1 of Crossdressing trilogy.) Gonna Burst (Part 2 of Crossdressing trilogy.) Wing Fic Can't Wait Forever Spideypool Go To See The Deadpool Movie High School AU (Side Stony and Brutasha) Not How It Was Supposed to Go (Part 3 of Crossdressing trilogy.) Worth The Risk (Sequel to Hot/Cold Date) All That Work, Gone One Small Step at a Time Aunt May to the Rescue Welcome Home Neko AU (Catboy) Oral Knotting Just Us

Stony (Tony Stark x Steve Rogers)

Different, But Nice A New Kind of Team Work Not Like Other Nights I Know How You Feel (With some Stucky) Waiting For the Perfect Moment An Average Morning With Steve Stark-Rogers We Need To Talk What You Tell Them Steve's Birthday Present Coming Out of the Closet Never There But Won't Go Away Someone to Listen Papa Bird This Isn't Working Our Secret Little Game

Superfamily (Steve and Tony are Peter's parents.)

Compared to Them One or the Other An Average Morning With Steve Stark-Rogers He's Cold Unlike Father Unlike Son Unlike Father Unlike Son (Extra) A, Tiny, Early Superfamily Christmas Story  Coming Out of the Closet It's Gotta Be Your Name 

Stucky (James "Bucky" Barnes x Steve Rogers)

I Know How You Feel (With some Stony) Are You Worried About Me?

Cherik (Charles Xavier x Erik Lehnsherr)

God Help Me

Reader-Insert

Clueless (Thor x Reader) Woman in My Bed (Loki, Tony Stark, Charles Xavier, Steve Rogers, Wade Wilson, Matt Murdock, Erik Lehnsherr, Peter Parker, Logan, and Bruce Banner x Reader)

[txttletale]

(Other than the really weird bit about "Male presenting Doctor") what were your thoughts about the specials?

pretty mixed bag, pretty messy, but good overall. i think they were very obviously a nostalgia trip for people around my age lol and it worked! i loved seeing tennant and tate back onscreen together, their chemistry hasn't aged a bit, and honestly just watching doctor who that wasn't written by chris chibnall was a breath of fresh air. they weren't boring, like seasons 11 and 12 were, and they didn't go too far off the other end into nonsense like flux did. characters want things again! the show can let itself just be silly! i was literally cheering out loud when donna and the doctor were just saying random scifi gobbledegook at each other for like a solid several minutes during the star beast.

the structure of the specials kind of baffles me. i love wild blue yonder--i think it's definitively the best of the specials as a standalone, it's absolutely fantastic, creepy and atmospheric and bringing things around to RTD's strength, which is well-written characters interacting with each other and letting good actors just act. but at the same time i dont understand why it exists? it feels like...idk. imagine if you watched the star wars original trilogy but instead of the empire strikes back the middle film was just a feature length film about luke and han surviving on an ice planet with no reference to anything that happens in the last film except the two characters' relationship. and then the next film was still return of the jedi, unchanged. it felt like that

i liked all the weird campy silliness of the star beast and the giggle, and they were both very fun! neil patrick harris gave a fantastic performance, there are a lot of very memorable sequences from the giggle, but it's very very all over the place. so many threads get kind of picked up and go nowhere. the toymaker's haunted house dimension goes nowhere. RTD's eyerolling social media commetnary goes nowhere (thank god tbh but yknow im illustrating something here). even the toymaker kind of goes nowhere, after ncuti gatwa shows up he's bascially an afterthought who loses by dropping a ball. obvious parallels to david tennant's first episode with that ball scene could be made, but just... aren't. it feels like load-bearing sectikons of the plot and themes were cut out to make room for a backdoor pilot for the stupid fucking UNIT spinoff

oh and it goes without saying i fucking hate all the UNIT wank in the star beast and the giggle. i hope space nine eleven 2 happens to their stupid fucking avengers tower i cannot stand kate stewart who is constantly a murderous bonehead (in the giggle alone she gets two pepole killed by not listening to the doctor and assuming that this teleporting godlike entity could be restrainted by Two Guys) who is both in and out of universe just a boring nepo baby with no merit of her own

um. i still dont know what happened with the regeneration. i think the implication is that when david tennant dies hell time travel back to become ncuti gatwa inside himself--at least the rehab dialogue seems to make that implication. but it's not really explained or explored? baffling. i do think that fourteen getting to settle down and live a peaceful life with his friends is cute.

oh yeah and the ask said other than that but goddd there was some good stuff in the star beast and honestly with the state of the UK media i will take any perspective on trans people that includes baseline human erespect but some of those lines made me cringe so bad. anyway overall i am cautiously optimistic for the future of the show--oh ncuti was fucking great did i mention that i instantly bnought him as the doctor he owned the scene, the moment he was there it was clear he was the protagonist, and i liked the church on ruby road well enough too--i am cautiously optimistic but i worry that a big UNIT-shaped tumor will devour huge chunks of it and it'll be annoying. also russel t davies is like 60 and i just dont want to hear what he has to say about twitter so im not looking forward to dot and bubble

[pumpkinsplots]

Writeblr Intro

Hello, writeblr! I finally caved and got tumblr, mostly because I love rambling about my wips and hearing other people ramble about theirs and all of that lovely stuff, so this seemed like a great platform to do that. With that being said, I plan on posting about my wips and ocs, as well as art related to those things, so if that interests you at all, I’d love to see you stick around. Also feel free to call me either Pumpkin or Maria, it’s entirely up to you!

About my writing

I’ve found that I really enjoy writing in a variety of genres, so hopefully at least one of my wips will tickle your fancy. Though I’d say a common thing for me is that I really like to world build, so my wips tend to be sci-fi, fantasy, or magical realism of some variety. Anything where I can put my own spin on the setting is something I’m bound to enjoy writing about.

I write in third person, usually with multiple povs, and I really enjoy character driven stories.

I often like to have a wide variety of ages in the cast, and if I had to pick a favorite trope it would be found family, so that’s usually present to some degree in my stuff.

Tonally, I always include light-hearted moments here and there, even if the wip is very bleak. It provides some levity, and I think it makes the painful stuff hit a lot harder. This is probably partially why I put some thought into each character’s sense of humor.

Most of my wips are geared towards older teens and adults, but I’ll get more into content warnings when I talk about each individually, because it really varies.

I’m one of those writers that kills off a lot of characters, so this is your warning not to get attached /j

I’m demisexual, so at least one character being on the ace spectrum is like a requirement for me at this point.

I’m a plantser, and pretty bad at staying motivated to actually finish first drafts.

About my wips

Falling Up

Falling Up is a sci-if story set in the future where Earth is a utopia where inhabitants experience little to no hardships throughout their lives. The deceased are replaced with AI created to replicate them, and everything is automated to the point where people no longer need to work to make a living. This lack of struggle results in dull, perfect lives and skewed morals. The people crave entertainment, even if it means making others suffer for it. Quasdom, a miniature man made planet initially intended to be used to separate deviants from the rest of the perfect society, is used as a catalyst for entertainment. The people of Quasdom believe that those on Earth are superior to them, and that Earth is a place where any wish can come true. This leads to the tourney, a death game between groups of ten on Quasdom, being viewed similarly to winning the lottery. The winning team gets to go to Earth, after all. Being chosen for the tourney is the luckiest thing that can happen to you. There’s no hard feelings between participants, death is completely painless, and the afterlife will welcome any participants to a better life than they previously had. There’s nothing to fear, so smile and put on a show.

A large cast and lots of character deaths

An exploration of why we get so attached to fictional characters, and how fiction can have an impact on reality

Probably going to be a trilogy

Content warnings include language, some unsettling themes, depictions of mental health issues, and generally things that are more psychological. Despite it being a death game, there’s no gore, like at all. The people on Earth may be desensitized, but they aren’t accustomed to seeing blood, so the tourney is designed with that in mind

Facade

Facade is set in a world where the living world and the spirit world coexist. Due to some actions by the main antagonist, about 20 years prior to the current story, spirits started getting aggressive and sort of going haywire. They possess any person they can, turning the individual into an uncontrollable killing machine. The best defense to this was the invention of a certain kind of mask that prevents possession, and masks quickly became widespread. Since there’s no known way to reverse spiritual possession, the only solution is to kill those that are unfortunate enough to meet that fate. A group led by an anonymous vigilante known as K9 seek to find a way to reverse possession. Many enemies are made along the way, and there are countless obstacles to face.

Its setting is based on Singapore and set in the 90s, though there are many creative liberties taken

The wip is currently pretty no plot just vibes

Themes about individuality vs equality

Content warnings include language and some sexual content

Facade: After Dark

While Facade is currently no plot just vibes, developing the characters led to me thinking of the plot for a prequel. Is it a self-indulgent novella about two of the characters I love? Yes, absolutely. In summary, it’s a romance novella about the the relationship of Leijing and Iris, and their struggles in navigating the wild world of Facade. They have vastly different upbringings and experiences, but their differences bring them together in more ways than one.

I have so much backstory for this pre-established couple and I couldn’t think of a good way to incorporate it into the main story without cutting a bunch of it, so boom it’s a prequel now

I’ve found that working on a wip that’s more low stakes and simple is really fun—I tend to get stressed about my more ambitious plots, so this wip is a great change of pace

Leijing is demisexual with little interest in anything sex related and Iris is an omnisexual sex worker, and the story explores how a world obsessed with all things sex can effect both more sex-negative and sex-positive people

Content warnings include language, explicit sexual content, and potentially triggering subject matters. This is my only wip where it’s strictly 18+!

Lights Out

Sunlight is the essence of life. Without it, the world would wither away. However, a dangerous new life form of unknown origin festers in the light. With long, elegant glimmering limbs, high intelligence, picturesque precision, and a craving for flesh, these organisms pose a major threat to humanity. But for some odd reason, these creatures refuse to step into any area where the sun doesn’t touch. Much of humanity takes to the shadows, building elaborate underground tunnels for civilizations and doing what humans do best—using their resources and ingenuity to adapt.

Has two protagonists that butt heads but start to develop a father daughter dynamic. A young adult girl who’s from the underground and unknowingly part of a cult, and an older man with one leg who’s so stubborn he’d rather fight and die than flee to the darkness

Lots of creepy cult imagery and themes about religious trauma

So much banter of course

Content warnings include language, disturbing imagery, and gore

If you’ve made it this far, thanks for reading! Asks, comments, tag games, and messages are always appreciated, and I’d love to hear about your wips as well!

[nyaagolor]

What are your thoughts on Apollo Justice (the character)?

OH BOY. OHHHHHH BOY. I have a fever and some free time lfg.

So honestly, I think part of the reason I love Apollo so much is because he runs parallel to Phoenix but also counter to him at the same time. I always saw Simon and Athena as the successors-- in terms of ideology and job and all that other stuff-- to the Phoenix-Edgeworth dynamic and status rather than Apollo and Klavier. Athena and Simon, to me, feel like extensions of the arcs of Phoenix and Edgeworth + the vibes of the original trilogy. Apollo and Klavier ( who I will not talk about bc we will be here all day)? They're the antithesis.

Apollo Justice The Game directly foils the original trilogy in so many ways, but I think even on a more base thematic level it runs counter to a lot of the ideas that we take for granted about the original trilogy, and because Apollo sits at the center of this, the things I love about the game are encapsulated in why I like him. There are a ton of themes in the ace attorney trilogy-- support networks, faith, trust, the truth-- and Apollo is defined by their limits, their failures, and their absence. He is let down, kicked around, defined by abandonment and betrayal and distrust. Apollo is defined by everything that Phoenix is not, and bc of how the timeline goes we don't really get any retribution for that, just a steady march forward, and I think that gives me a lot to think about with his character

Phoenix's arc right from Turnabout Sisters is about the building of a support network, and the ways that developing this support is integral for when things go wrong. We contrast Phoenix with Godot, Maya with Dahlia, and see how people left to stew in their resentment can chase vengeance to dark places (wow I wonder who also does this after the death of a dear friend leading to a crusade of misplaced revenge that almost leads someone they care about being killed.). With Apollo we get to stand on the precipice of resolution, but the important part is we don't get it. Apollo's life falls off the rails, and he's the one left to pick up the pieces.

We see through him how our trust can be betrayed by people of good and bad intentions, and the lingering consequences that has on one's ability to not only trust the people around them but themselves. And yeah!! That's why I adore him so much-- he's tested not by the possibility of failure like Phoenix often is, but climbing up from the reality of it. It's less "how do we make our way out of this mess before it goes nuclear" and more "things are already destroyed-- where do we go from here?". It has more of an element of recovery than prevention to me, and I think that's a fascinating avenue to explore in stories like these. Apollo pushes the envelope of the themes of the narrative and the characters-- he is the epitome of what it looks like when things fall apart, and it gives him and the trilogy characters something to reconcile

A lot of people have complained that Apollo barely feels like the protagonist in his own game, but that's honestly a huge part of the reason why I love him so much. He's defined by the spaces between, the limits and failures of things we had up to this point taken to be true, and left with a pretty limited degree of autonomy through it all. He's pushed around and puppeteered by people who mean well and those who don't, and I feel like a major theme of AA4 that I love but don't often see talked about is "what does it mean to have autonomy-- and by extension, control? What does it mean to take it back? What does it mean to lose it, and what does it mean when you'd do anything to keep it." Most of what I said is only partially resolved bc AA4 is... a game. A technically finished game. but!! Because it eviscerates our expectations of the franchise so thoroughly AND leaves open so many avenues, it makes Apollo and the rest of his crew some of my favorite characters because there's so much you can think about and do with them!!

also he's like. An insect to me. <3

[heliads]

I recently re-read the hunger games trilogy, so can you write a katniss fic with a fem!reader being secretly haymitch's daughter?? nothing much, just the two of them spending time together, hunting or spending some quality time together, ignoring the capitol, the world and individual problems to enjoy the hours they have together

please let me write for thg i love this request

masterlist

It is a terrible thing to be a Victor. Most people only look surface level, choosing to focus on the gilded trappings and gaudy praise the Capitol heaps upon you. Beneath the facade, living with the memories of what you’ve done is far harder than finding a way to burn through all the money they give you for killing twenty-three other children while all the world watches on. The price of blood was always worse than the price of gold, anyway.

You’ve seen this once before already. The Capitol does its best to stay up to date on every little detail of their lovely Victors’ lives, but when Haymitch Abernathy had his first child, he did everything in his power to ensure that no one would ever find out. That infant would live in someone else’s home, kept out of sight of the cameras and the Arena alike, and she would grow up to be you.

It wasn’t the worst of lives. It kind of was. No one can pick their place in life when they first come into the world, obviously. Otherwise, we’d all be living up in the Capitol and no one would be down here, choking on coal dust, waiting for their bones to turn ash so their body can be burned to heat the homes of the rich and prosperous a million miles away from them.

Haymitch watched out for you as best he could. He sent your foster parents money when he remembered it, always a little out of schedule, a touch too much to cover up for the fact that he forgot the last time around. He started remembering as you got older, though. He stopped feeling ashamed of you and started feeling ashamed of himself.

You see him a lot, although the frequency of your meetings always picks up around the time of the Games. He needs it as a reminder that not everything about him always leads to death and ruin. Once in a blue moon, Haymitch Abernathy is responsible for something good. Something, someone, like you.

There’s a schedule to the Games, one that isn’t known or enforced by the Peacekeepers, and it goes like this:  first there is the before, and then there is the after. Prior to the start of the Hunger Games ceremonies, Haymitch will be over at your place. You’ll talk a lot. Both of you will do your best to keep the conversations light. Remember when you were a kid, crawling around all the time? How you used to laugh like crazy whenever it snowed?

Then he’ll get dragged off by the Capitol to go mentor two kids until they die, and then you reach the second phase of the schedule, the after. Haymitch will hole up in his estate in the Victor’s Village, the only occupied house there, the only living being around because he couldn’t save a single person other than himself, and you will find him because no one else will. It’s quiet most of the time. He doesn’t want to think about anything at all, and certainly not the additional two kids who placed their faith in him just for him to let them down again.

After a while, he’ll manage to claw his way out of it, and then you’ll have the better part of a year before the cycle repeats. You’ve had plenty of time to grow used to this pattern, and you’ve perfected it like a pastime. The right words to say get easier to remember when you say them every year. And now, as a reward for getting it right, you get to repeat the process with Katniss Everdeen.

You say that like it’s a bad thing. It’s not. Truth be told, it’s easier spending time with Katniss than anyone else, even right after her first Games when everything is bloody and terrible. You could see yourself doing this again next year, and the next one, and the next. You don’t think you would mind it. Not at all.

Perhaps that’s why Haymitch set this up in the first place. Maybe he knew it would be okay. Or maybe he was just so ridiculously pleased that he managed to save not one tribute but two that he was only thinking about prolonging Katniss’ survival. The reasons don’t always matter. What happened, happened, and secretly you’re glad of it now.

Katniss had been locked in a death spiral of nightmares and bad memories. It soon became clear that she would lose herself to it if someone didn’t intervene, so someone did. Haymitch took Katniss by the shoulders, shook her a little and told her to get it together, and pointed her to you. You knew what it was like to befriend someone who wanted to shut out the world, who couldn’t sleep without nightmares and couldn’t talk without thinking that someone was watching. You could understand Katniss better than anyone, and Haymitch knew it. Daughters are such wonderful pawns to play, aren’t they?

Again, a cruel way to put it, but this is the truth nonetheless. It’s what Katniss suspected the first time you visited her house, and the second, but after a couple of weeks passed and it grew obvious that you weren’t giving up on her without a fight, she begrudgingly let you in. The two of you had been observing each other for years now, the consequence of there only being so many girls your age in a small town in District Twelve, but things accelerated rapidly after the Games.

You’ll never be entirely certain why. Katniss doesn’t let people in, and she threw up her walls tenfold after she partook in the Hunger Games, unable to discern if someone was talking to her because they wanted to or if they wanted to kill her. She even started growing distant from Gale, because Gale didn’t understand her completely, not anymore. Not like you did.

Over the course of the summer, Katniss’ icy demeanor started to melt. She is hesitant and cautious, but she still smiles at your offhand jokes, always a little surprised, like she can’t believe she’s having this good of a time either. The two of you start meeting up in the forest surrounding District Twelve where no one can see you, where it’s just the two of you and the blissful sunlight waving through endless flurries of leaves above your heads.

And, not according to plan, you realize that you’re starting to fall for her. Katniss is like no one you’ve ever met before, even your dad. You knew how to operate around Haymitch, but Katniss doesn’t require an assembly guide or how-to explanation. You just know her. It is as easy as that.

After realizing such a thing as that, how could you not begin to love her? You can steal your dad’s drinks and get properly sloshed on them, but it’ll never match the tipsiness you feel when you look at her; when she laughs at one of your jokes, always reluctant at first but more easily as she gets more used to you. It makes you want to try again and again, and so you do. Katniss listens every time. She says she likes to hear you.

Instead of running away, you decide to embrace the feeling. You head to the woods more and more often, although never at the risk of the Peacekeepers’ attention. Katniss never tells you when she’s going out, nor do you mention when you’re out here, but the two of you have a habit of finding each other nonetheless. You turn around and there she is, emerging from a stand of trees; she crosses a bank at the same time as you; you climb a tree to get a better vantage point of the forest and you’re instantly drawn to the sight of her doing the same across a clearing. Katniss makes sense.

If you squint your eyes just right, you can make your entire world double. The hazy afterimages of present day will swim before you, a hair out of line but still there, still two instead of one. For example, right now, walking through the woods beyond District Twelve, it’s as if you can see two exact images of the current moment instead of only one.

On one version of this day a few years ago, when you hide away from the world in the forbidden greenery past your district’s limits, you come across Katniss Everdeen and you hide from her, too. You do not know her. Not well, at least. You see her and pretend otherwise. She does the same. She heard your footsteps first and thought herself visited by a deer instead of a girl. Her finger tensed on her bowstring, but she released it the second your face finally came into view. Katniss could not kill a person.

Would not. Katniss can kill a person, as it turns out, she can outlive twenty-two tributes through various purposes and keep one other alive, then do it again, but she does not know that yet. All Katniss knows in this past moment, this one half of a fractured memory, is that she will not kill you, and that is true today, too.

On the other version, the one that happens today, you do not run from Katniss, you go to her. That is the whole purpose of risking the Peacekeepers’ wrath by ducking under the fence to escape to the forest. The wilderness means Katniss, and Katniss means you’ll be able to spend another day relatively free from the concerns of a girl from District Twelve who has increasingly little between herself and the violence of not having enough.

Katniss doesn’t turn when you approach, but you can hear the quiet smile in her voice when she admonishes you, “You’re going to scare away all my game.”

You chuckle. “No, no. I’m drawing them out of the bush so you can shoot them. It’s teamwork.”

“If it were teamwork,” she argues, “you would also have a bow.”

You lift a shoulder. “I would never dare steal your favorite weapon. I want you to feel important.”

This does make her laugh. Almost indignantly, yes, but still a laugh. Still a win for you. She manages to nab a few birds before setting her bow down for the morning. The two of you sit side by side in the tall grass, a cool breeze blowing upon your faces, bringing with it the tender tangy scent of the forest.

Usually, neither of you have ever suffered from awkwardness when you’re out here. You could spend hours out here, not saying a word, and it would be just as fulfilling as if you’d spoken the entire time. Today, though, there’s something stuck on the tip of your tongue, a truth that refuses to go unsaid no matter how you fight it.

At last, you give in and, keeping your eyes resolutely ahead, you tell her what’s on your mind. “I’m glad you’re with me, Katniss.”

You can see Katniss frowning out of the corner of your eyes. “Where else would I be?”

You roll your eyes. “You know what I mean. You could have heard me coming and avoided me the second I stepped into the forest. Probably would have caught more, too.”

Katniss shakes her head doubtfully. “No, we’re good. This is good.”

She sets her jaw determinedly, like this settles everything. It does, in a way. It gives you the courage to continue. “I’m glad to hear it. I like spending time with you.” A pause. “I like you.”

Katniss’ brow knits. “Why would you like me?” Genuinely confused, she adds on, “I’ve done terrible things, Y/N.”

“We’re all terrible,” you whisper back softly.

She rolls her eyes. “I’ve been in the Games. You haven’t.”

This is true. No matter how much time you spend with Haymitch or Katniss, nor how many stories you hear about the Hunger Games, it will never be the same as actually taking part in them yourself. With all luck, you never will. Both Haymitch and Katniss would fight to keep you out of them, and then to keep you alive, should that happen, but the possibility shrinks with every year as you get older.

“I still want you,” you tell her. More the empty forest air; you can’t quite say this to her face, not yet. The fear of rejection after everything is too great a burden to bear.

When you do risk a glance over at her, though, Katniss doesn’t look affronted. Instead, she looks more at peace than you’ve ever seen her. Slowly, carefully, her face upturned to catch the morning sun, Katniss smiles again. You’re not even sure that she’s aware of doing it. It is simply the only way she can process that this, you wanting her, would make her happier than anything else.

And, sitting here in the forest, surrounded by a million memories of all that you have done together, a thousand hopes of all that you have yet to do, you look over at Katniss and you know. You know that she loves you. You know that she can’t say it, not yet, not until she’s certain that you love her as much as she loves you.

She will tell you, though. In time. Perhaps it’ll happen another day out here past the confines of District Twelve, in a space that has always been safe to the two of you and will thus protect her from the fallout of confessing to a friend. Perhaps she’ll tell you while you’re asleep next to her, to avoid a response, or perhaps she’ll tell you while you’re pretending to be asleep, so she knows you’re heard and you don’t have to tell her anything.

Or, maybe she’ll just say it now, unspoken but still startlingly loud, audible in every glance your way, every faint smile she never bothers to hide. That, you think, would be enough.

hunger games tag list: @w1shes43, @ilovexavierthrope

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[nalyra-dreaming]

Heey, I've finished Memnoch, and I'm evidently among those crazy people who enjoy it a lot. Although it would land differently if I didn't read ahead. The further I go, the more this wet cat of a man entices me. PL Lestat did something to my brain, I will probably love all the mad shenanigans now. + The ending made a lot of sense after TVA and Blood and Gold. I kiiind of regret I've skipped this part at first, though, because now I'm curious what the ending would do to me without spoilers 🤣

So, a question. How did Armand's religious frenzy look for you when other novels haven't come out yet? I'm not sure I would have understood it the same way only with his TVL chapter. And what did you think in general with the context of what Anne was saying at the time? It kinda did feel like she didn't want to write about them anymore and wanted to explore something else. So I get why people would be confused.

By now I enjoy it a lot as well!! It grew on me on second reread, which is not that far back actually, and was followed by a pause and then a third. There is a lot in there and a lot that makes one think, and a lot... crazy stuff *laughs*

So this was, by statement, supposed to be the last book. Then. She did not want to write them anymore, indeed.

Which, you might imagine, was devastating, with that ending.

Armand gone up in flames, others, too. Lestat mad, jaded and slinking into obscurity.

I didn't touch the books for the longest time.

I'm not sure I can answer your question wrt to Armand and his religious frenzy. It's... been a while (maybe others want to add on with their experiences here?!) - I just remember that reading it all... was devastating.

Louis, crying and begging at the locked doors. The absolute despair in it all, in the grief of losing Armand.

Lestat saying: "Adieu, mon amour." the last thing in the book.

The whole book screams for some answers. Answers that are still denied in the end. Was it the Devil? Was it God? Was it purgatory? Did Armand sacrifice himself there for anything that is true? Or was it just a futile gesture, which brought only pain, no relief... I can understand the utter shock to the system actual proof had to produce in Armand - him, a child of the Children of Satan, being confronted with the actual proof within this universe.

It must have been devastating as well, emotionally, and for his soul.

So much of what he believed he had left behind and overcome... crushing him now.

Now, TVA followed. Merrick. Blood and Gold. Pandora. Blackwood Farm. Blood Canticle. I picked them up at some point, somewhat disbelievingly.

I did not really enjoy them the first time, after Memnoch the wound was still open, the yearning to get back to Lestat for some kind of resolution for him and Louis quite strong. The blow had been intense, and Merrick promised... and then the other books did not deliver. And Blood Canticle felt absolutely OOC, though I find it has its place now in his arc. Now.

Because back then I could not have dreamed that Anne would finish the arcs. Or some at least. Would pick up the threads for Louis, Lestat and even Claudia once more, reshape them. I had not dreamed that the last trilogy would give them resolution.

Would close so many wounds.

I'm older now. I understand a lot more about trauma, and pain, and loss, and how these things shape us.

I read these books now quite differently. Their voices sound differently in my mind. I know why Anne had to let Louis go, and why she struggled so hard. I can feel the pain of loss and the wish to find a higher purpose in the tale.

So yeah^^. Reading it back then without the other books... was indeed something^^. But I do enjoy rereading it now too. :)

[ae-neon]

@shadowqueenjude I was recently complaining about this in replies and DMs but you reminded me so I might as well make a post. Lets say sjm didn't want to make the pov switch in acomaf (ignoring that's almost exactly what ended up happening anyway post trilogy)

Then sjm should have done better for Feyre

First of all, we needed more put into the Cursebreaker title, even if it was burdensome to her, it still centred her. It was Feyre who should have given the HL speech not Nesta, Feyre is literally a living embodiment of the unification of the powers of the 7 courts

Also my personal opinion that Feyre shouldn't have been made High Lady by him but that by default she could be High Lady of literally any court because she holds a drop from each. Again, centring her and not him. It also makes the possibility of Feyre choosing Tarquin but ultimately picking Rhysand have more weight

On that topic. No mating bond. I know it's an sjm romance staple but let's be brutally honest about it.

each Archeron sister is an anomaly to the acotar universe, they should not exist and are not bound by the same magical physics so why would they have designated mates.

Feyre again has the magic of all 7 not just 1. If anything she should be recognised (by magic if not by law) more like a High Queen than a High Lady

SJM apparently ends up taking the "first High Lady" title from her anyways

As disgusting as it is, the acotar mating bond IS a magical eugenics programme and according to the lore, Lesser Fae are "less" than High Fae. Why would a being who is beyond High Fae be mates with a half or Lesser Fae.

Same way it doesn't make sense that human Feyre (or Nesta) could be mates with a half or full Illyrian. The wings would kill a damn near higher being but wouldn't kill a human?? I don't think they'd even make it full term

In conclusion no mates or their mates are higher beings like them but they reject those bonds in favour of love, showing their human values overrule Fae magic. Tying into Feyre's human heart (make it mean something!!)

So, Feyre chooses Rhysand

Now, if the NC is split into basically 3 autonomous zones, we needed to see her interact and integrate herself into those three in a way that matters. Something beyond the superficial title.

Keep Feyre's star motif as HERS. It's a pretty dehumanising take but she has that thought about being a star who only shines as bright because of his darkness or something. Anyways. Give her the star tattoo.

For some reason her bargain tattoos have a similar swirl pattern to Illyrian tats, cut that out and rather have her do the bloodrite and earn the tattoos.

If sjm insists on keeping the CoN scene, write it better. And change the values of the CoN to hedonism so they embrace her introduction to court.

Put up a statue of Feyre in the Rainbow

Give Feyre her own place (not physically but politically and socially) in Velaris. Let her learn to read at the library and befriend some priestesses. It's literally that easy

Now

One complaint I made again and again was the KoH not being Feyre's villain. Sure he turns her sisters but after that he's so focused on getting her sisters and beefing with Rhysand, it doesn't feel like Feyre's at the centre of it by design but rather by default

So make something like her resurrection in book 1 was a result of her stealing Amarantha's power. We know Amarantha was able to become that powerful because she stole from Hybern. whatever it is, he wants it back.

Then, have Feyre actually fighting in the war not running around observing and doing side quests. HAVE FEYRE ACTUALLY INVOLVED IN THE SERIES VILLAIN'S DEATH??? (sjm is a hack fraud) Then she dies and is resurrected by the High Lords at the end of wings and ruin.

Cut the vassa storyline it's nonsense

Full circle from book 1 with a mirror ending!!!

Ultimately these are small changes that don't alter the course of the story (the way making Feyre naturally shielded instead of Nesta or switching pov to Nesta in acomaf would) but it helps