#Davin has it all

[coyotehusk]

Sometimes you gotta get elbows deep.

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.

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Davin from Moneymakers // coldresolve

#moneymakers #Davin #blood #gore #I just #really like long hair #and shapely noses #Davin has it all #also sorry for shamelessly drawing him in a sleeveless turtleneck #I can’t describe how fun this was #FORGOT THE LINK #Yeesh #coyote husk draws

[starteas]

What would the LAGTBG characters playing Monopoly (or Space Monopoly) be like? Would they finish a game or would it remain incomplete, lost to the test of time?

The LATGBG crew playing Monopoly is a testament to their friendship— which is to say, it ends in an all out war.

Re-explained rules, banks scattered across the map, Monopoly money torn to shreds… it’s a never ending beacon of chaos— and it’s all because no one wants to use the wheelbarrow.

#they don’t even get through a game I’d say #though playing without Holden Felicity lumi and siona makes things a little less chaotic #Mika and Davin play together sometimes as do Davin and siona and Mika and Felicity and davin #but never all together. Holden loves to break out of jail and siona has to act as the policeman #it ends up getting off track with them playing tag instead #and Mika with his head in his wing wondering why he even tries to play at all #Evan bleats #anonymous #lumi and the great big galaxy #latgbg

[targaryenluvs]

LONELY WATERS

pairings: dark!finnick odair x fem!reader

summary: even if you resided in the fishing district you only ever got close to the water for swimming late at night. it was your favourite time of the day, but it leaves you open and vulnerable to predators and people, the water won’t save you. silly girl, don’t you remember? finnick odairs a champion swimmer.

warnings: nude swimming, nc voyeurism, stalking, scaring someone, inappropriate touching, chasing in waters, threatening and manipulation?? false misconceptions about victors, nc kissing and implied sexual intimacy and technically kidnapping?? (not forever) passing out from exhaustion due to sexual relations

a/n: THE VOICES 👹👹 italics is your thoughts!!! not proofread!

the water was cold, just how you liked it.

you’d been taking care of your cousin davine who’d literally put a hole in her finger trying to spin around the finnick odair’s trident since it was on display in a local gallery. but she’d overestimated her strength, let go of it whilst it was still in the air and it sliced her good. you met her outside as you’d been getting groceries and scolded her the whole way to the hospital.

“are you crazy? did you honestly think you could handle such a weapon on a whim? why the hell would you want to hold it anyways it’s just a trident.” you investigated as she whined and moaned, “why wouldn’t i want to y/n? it’s finnick! i just didn’t know it’d be that difficult.” you sighed as you halted her walking, bending down to look up at her, “i know it seems super cool okay. but the things he went through? the reason he has that trident? not cool. don’t idolise the games and the victors. the games are barbaric and those poor victors live their lives because the capitol lets them. i don’t want you anywhere near them okay? they’re dangerous.”

davine shook her head, “how? they’re just victors, they had to kill to win the games you know that y/n.” you sighed again, “they’re not dangerous because of the games they’re dangerous because of their time in the capitol. they care about themselves, after the hunger games they’ll probably do anything to keep themselves safe. act nice to us, earn our trust and support i- it doesn’t matter, just try not to go around him okay?”

finnick was watching you from the balcony as you explained your worries to davine. now now, who’d gone and told you all those lies? he wasn’t dangerous, as long as you were on his good side.

honey, he’d show you dangerous.

as you took off your dress you couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on you, so you stopped. your head zipped around , trying to look for a glimpse, a person, an animal, something. but you couldn’t see anything. and that should’ve been your first sign. someone that you could hear but not see.

as you lowered yourself into the water you felt at ease. the water was the one place you were by yourself. you thought you were. everyday had you, and everyone, surrounded by people all day. but here? peace.

“isn’t it dangerous at this time of night honey?” finnick emphasised as your hands shot up to cover your top half. “don’t hide now, i was enjoying the view.” you couldn’t believe your eyes, finnick odair, in the flesh. god the screens didn’t do him justice. i get it davine, why you wanted to hold the trident. his eyes were so green.

“w-what are you doing here?” finnick tilted his head as he crossed his arms, still on the land, “can’t i come down here? if i knew it was reserved i wouldn’t have come, but it isn’t, and i can do as i please. you never know who’s around sweetheart, not the best idea to come out alone.” you didn’t even notice that he was slowly taking off his own clothes till he was walking your way. “i swim here every night. no one’s ever here.” he was in the water now, and you’d begun to slowly back away, the water engulfing you slowly. chest, shoulders, neck. “well that’s going to change, don’t you wanna swim with me?” you shook your head as he mimicked you, shaking his head slowly, “no? you gonna stop me?” he was making his way towards you, cutting through the water like glass.

you were hyperventilating and your mind was foggy. you obviously weren’t thinking properly since instead of swimming towards the shore you swam further out. you could hear his laugh as you began to swim, “do you really think you can swim away from me? the place in which i excel? i’ve chased down tributes in water, fit, healthy and much more athletic than you. trust me, you’ll tire yourself out before you get any further.” but you didn’t listen, all you could do was try.

the rocks were large and created a huge wall, it was a rocky area of the beach which you were using as refuge from finnick. if there was one thing you never expected it was this, being chased by finnick odair through opens waters for- what, exactly? you had no clue.

you’d mistakenly began to relax, thinking you’d lost him when you dove under the water but the unrelenting pressure on your ankle had you wailing as you were yanked under the water. your eyesight was muffled and muggy, but you knew who’d dragged you under. finnick swam back to the surface, his hands right around you.

“should’ve listened to me.” he smiled, perfect teeth on show, barely puffed out, where as you felt as if your heart was going to burst from exhaustion and fatigue or plain fright. “now, i’m going to make sure, you remember me, remember what i’m going to do, and will continue to do.” you were sure his face was going to haunt you, everywhere you went. every time you saw a trident, even a damn fork. blonde hair and green eyes would send you spiralling every time you plucked them out from a crowd.

your tears were hot and streaming as you felt his hands roam, lower and lower. the rocks cut you as he pushed you into them, manipulating you into the positions he wished for. your body was so cold but his presence was like fire, his hands were warm and undeniable as they grabbed and kneaded at soft skin. his kisses were unrelenting and you were sure he’d leave a trail of bruises all over you in his wake.

you’d passed out at some point of the night, you were in the water, then on the rocks, then on the land yet you woke up in an unfamiliar home. maybe someone found you laying on the ground, you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d left you there, naked and ruined.

what were you going to do? if he approached you in public? in private? in your home? who in panem would believe your truth? that finnick odair, the capitols darling was capable of such unbelievable, vile actions. they’d probably turn it around you. he’d let them.

at least he’s not here. you thought to yourself, you could do your best to avoid him. it’s not like there aren’t plenty of women, gorgeous girls that could take his attention. he’d probably picked out another girl to go after, to charm and take the normal way.

your thoughts had taken you away from the present, the present being you laying besides someone. their muscular arm draped over your waist, the sheets covered your and his bare body. “had a good sleep did you?” finnick murmured into your neck as you froze up.

no no no no no. please no.

“yes honey. you’re here with me. now let me hold you.” he whispered as he pulled you into his chest, cautious of your patched up cuts. everything hurt. your shoulders, arms, thighs. your hands traced over the bite marks, the skin all over you, tainted.

just wishing for lonely waters in which you could relax led to you be trapped in his arms. and he sure as hell wasn’t letting you go. not when you brung him so much pleasure, yeah, he’d be using you for a while, if not forever.

if only you’d been nicer.

#dark!finnick odair x reader #dark!finnick odair x fem!reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick odair imagine #hunger games x reader #finnick odair x female reader #finnick odair x fem!reader

[your-nanas-house]

Late again

◇ Pairing: Raymond Leon X best friend!Reader

◇ Warnings: anger, rough smut, creampie, arguments, Raymond, friends to lovers, mean Ray.

◇ Summary: Raymond has enough of Y/n's bullshit.

◇ Note: This is my Christmas gift for you @mrkdvidal1989. Merry Christmas Eve and Merry Christmas! 🫶🏻 I tried my best.

Raymond's piercing baby blue eyes remained fixed on his rich watch, the fabric of his leather pants squeaking as he let his leg bounce up and down in impatience. She was late…again. And he was almost completely sure of the reason for her waste of time. The particular reason that kept her busy and away from him for weeks now, away from her own best friend.

As the mixed emotions started to kick in, all swirling around like crazy…anger, sadness, jealousy and disappointment… a loud knock made its way in the uncomfortable silence of the room. Causing him to snap his eyes up to glare towards the door, his right hand covering back his watch with the sleeve of his leather jacket.

“Come in” his low voice brumming in his office, his gaze sharpening as soon as he recognized Y/n— not dressed in her timekeeper uniform but with on a short sleeveless wine red dress, tight on her torso…with a lovely heart shaped cleavage which showed off her breasts in a delicious way, and the lower half which was opening up like a flower, stopping mid-thighs… to not show too much but enough.

“You're late” Raymond quickly said, his eyes roaming around her body, taking in everything she was gifting him without even noticing. 

Her eyes rolled at his statement, not wanting to comment and explain to her best friend why she was a couple of minutes late, especially because he was acting in a weird way lately…demanding to know things and to receive explanations like if she was her dad. It was starting to annoy her.

“Oh shut up, Ray—” Y/n murmured under her breath, taking off her red heels, her eyes focusing on the task and her sore feet to notice the clear anger that washed over Raymond's face.

His body was shaking softly as his eyes squinted slightly, his jaw clenched harshly and his dilated nostrils. He wasn't mad, he was furious after keeping up with all the bullshit Y/n kept making him deal with. 

The pure crude jealousy that kept rushing in his body and that made him struggle to get his work right for nearly three weeks now, was now rushing back in his body… blinding him from rational thoughts. 

“You've been acting like a dick since I started to go out with Davin” the young woman commented casually in a pissed tone, her smaller hands still working on the muscles of her right foot when big rough hands grabbed her hips to press her harshly against the wall she was leaned on.

A squeal leaving her lipstick covered lips, before it turned into a soft groan of pain and anger “What the fuck are you doing?!” She nearly yelled at her best friend, gasping when Raymond covered her mouth quickly with his hand, his fingers digging in the flesh of her cheeks.

“Shut your fucking mouth” he growled, body pressed against her back, his hips holding her lowerback flat against the cold surface of the wall of his office “You've been acting like a shameless slut for weeks now and I had enough of your bullshit, you heard me?” He spat angrily in her ear as his free hand grabbed a hold of her neck so that he could easily move her around without her trying to fight him.

Muffled cries and insults filled the room, his harsh movements just increasing them before the collision of her body with the wooden desk echoed in the room, a single tear falling down her cheek as Y/n started to wiggle and fight him.

“Let me go, you bastard!” She hissed, attempting to bite him as he took a hold of her wrist, pressing them first above her head and then behind her back as soon as her attempt failed.

A sharp slap across her face stopped the fight she was pulling up, allowing him to manhandle her smaller body so that her front was now pressed down. 

“Raymond! Raymond, don't you fucking dare” she warned the man with anger and fead in her tone, her legs clenching softly together as his calloused hand brushed slowly against her bare neck after moving away from the way her hair— tracing an imaginary path that kept getting lower…with the zip of her dress, exposing in a sneaky teasing way more of her skin. 

Her shoulder blades twitching at the touch, her body shaking softly due to the anticipation and the painful wait of Raymond's next actions. “Look at you…” he started in a murmur, his hand now diving between her legs to press two fingers against the wet cloth that were her panties “a fucking slut… didn't do anything and you're already so fucking wet for me….because it's for me, right, sweetheart? Not for Davin or any other man” he hissed, pressing harder against her clothed entrance now, spreading her fluids in a teasing pace. Biting his bottom lip when she cried out, her head nodding as she revealed and confirmed what she asked her.

“Y-Yes, just for you, Ray” her voice cracked pathetically, making him coo mockingly at her, a smug grin covering his handsome face “Of course, darling” he whispered against the shell of her ear before leaving a wet kiss on her flushed cheek.

His hand moved away, causing a whimper from Y/n which made him chuckle… she was wiggling again, pressing her ass against his growing boner creating a lovely fiction.

“Raymond!” She whispered with a warning tone, she was getting wetter as the time passed, the arousal could be felt all over her body but— he was her best friend. 

She couldn't just let him do what he wanted and play around with her feelings she thought.

Letting happen exactly the opposite, allowing Raymond's hand to raise her dress and expose her round ass, nearly covered by the fabric of her lacy thong. “Fucking slut” he murmured angrily, spanking her harshly before staring at the red sign of his hand which was forming slowly.

His baby blue eyes didn't look away as he unbuckled his belt, working quickly on his leather pants to finally free his cock. Y/n glanced behind, taking a peak of his long thick cock, rock hard with pulsing veins… just waiting to be inside of her tight wet cunt.

A rough thrust and he was completely buried inside of her, his hand quickly covering her mouth so that they wouldn’t catch anyone’s attention and a low grunt left his own body at the amazing sensation of those warm walls squeezing his cock. It felt like heaven and he wasn’t going to back off now, he needed more…it was nearly intoxicating that whole situation.

So he started to move, not waiting for her to adjust to his size, just thrusting with the goal of seeking his own pleasure and punishing her.

Muffled moans and loud sighs could be heard all over the room, the heavenly noises of his skin slapping against hers at every rough thrusts were driving him nuts. His heavy balls hit her clit every time he made a stronger thrust, ending up in no time deep balls inside of her cunt. Drilling inside of her without stopping, his chest now pressed against her bare back so that he could hit her cervix better, causing her pain but extreme pleasure.

“You’re fucking mine” Raymond hissed in her ear, his lips brushing against her warm skin slowly down to the base of her neck, his teeth grazing it teasingly till he bite down, nearly drawing blood as soon as his orgasm hit his whole body like a train. His load being shoot deeply inside of her with a muffled groan, his body kept shaking softly as she screamed silently, rolling her eyes back at the feeling of his slow thrusts and the seed that was still flowing inside of her. 

“Fucking mine” the timekeeper murmured against her shoulder blades, leaving a wet kiss there before slowly moving out of her.. staring at his cum dripping out of her cunt, down onto her thighs and then desk. 

“I-I love you too” Y/n whispered breathlessly, allowing herself to close her eyes for a moment, yelping softly when Raymond slapped her ass as a reply.

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj @wife-of-magic-monkeys , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher , @sleepycreativewriter , @mrkdvidal1989

#raymond leon smut #raymond leon #raymond leon x reader #raymond leon x you #raymond leon x y/n #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy #cillian fic #cillian murphy smut #cillian x reader #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x y/n #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n

[beskarandblasters]

Me and My Husband

Chapter Two: Drunk Walk Home

Married!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Series Masterlist | Series Playlist

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Synopsis: Din Djarin is doing what any typical Mandalorian would be doing after reclaiming Mandalore, finding a riduur and settling down. He’s still a member of the Guild on Nevarro, taking bounties here and there to support his new family. But when he meets you while you’re working the front desk at an inn on Naboo, he finds himself hooked, feeling like he’s found something new and exciting in his now mundane life. How long can he keep up appearances with his riduur? And how long can he keep his little secret with you?

Series warnings: reader is able-bodied, set post season 3, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), some liberties taken with Mandalorian culture/weddings/marriages, infidelity, eventual smut (chapter two!), switches between Reader and Din's POV, no use of y/n

Chapter summary: Your friend, Lumya, sets you up on a blind date that goes terribly. When you excuse yourself for some fresh air outside you run into Mando.

Word count: 3k

Chapter warnings: rotations = days, Reader does not know Din's name yet, your date is an asshole, drinking, fingering, semi public sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, small squabble between Din and your date, use of Mando’a words/phrases (translations included after)

You

It’s been seven rotations since your encounter with the Mandalorian at the Star-Lux. And you haven’t been able to stop thinking about him, of course. During your employment at the inn you’ve met so many interesting characters, travelers from all over the galaxy. But you’ve never met a Mandalorian and he’s been the most intriguing person you’ve met so far. And he wasn’t even a guest. 

The way he snatched that bounty up in no time was impressive. Surely there had to have been some sort of scuffle; an unfair fight for the bounty of course considering not only how strong Mando is but also considering his armor and plethora of weapons he has. He’s a walking force to reckoned with… who’s also a bad flirt. His flirting was poor, downright pitiful, but there was also something endearing about it. There’s something sort of sweet about an intimidating Mandalorian who’s also bad with women. 

Nevertheless, that’s been the only excitement in your life as of late and it was only for a fleeting moment. Work has been sort of slow lately. The tourist season on Naboo is wrapping up and a lot of the interesting guests at the inn have left. You’ve never left Naboo and listening to the guest’s stories has been your way of “traveling”, living vicariously through the stories they tell. 

When you’re not working you’re usually at the library, reading books or downloading information on your holo pad about far off places that don’t even seem real. One day, you tell yourself, you’re going to have enough credits saved up to take a commercial flight to one of the planets you’ve read about, most likely Coruscant since the activities there are endless. But you’ve also had your sights set on Aldhani, but that planet is off the beaten path and really no commercial ships go there. You wouldn’t mind checking out Corellia, Morlana One, Ferrix, or even Glavis Ringworld, a ring shaped space station orbiting a star. The list goes on and on. Basically, you would go anywhere if it meant leaving Naboo for once. 

Today is another part of your monotonous routine; waking up, eating breakfast, getting ready and heading to the library, reading about places you’ll never go and feeling sick about it, head to the inn and go to work, go home and go to bed, and repeat. You’re leaving the library and heading to the inn when you bump into your friend, Lumya. A pit forms in your stomach. 

“Hey! Don’t forget you’re meeting Davin for drinks tonight!” she says cheerfully. 

“How could I forget,” you say with gritted teeth. 

“Don’t get too excited,” she responds, rolling her eyes, “Come on! You’ll like this guy. I’m sure of it. When have I ever been wrong?”

“Uhh, with all of the other guys you’ve tried to set me up with.”

“Shh, forget about that. This guy is the one, I’m telling you.”

“Whatever,” you laugh, “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow,” you finish, waving goodbye before leaving to go to work. 

“Can’t wait!” she laughs, walking the opposite direction. 

It’s true, her track record with setting up on dates has not been the best to put it kindly. This is the fifth blind date she’s sent you on and you’d rather do literally anything else. She better be right; this guy better be somewhat appealing because you’re getting off of work early for this stupid date. 

-

Work is… work. It’s been a slow night. You’re glad to be getting out early but you wish it was for a better reason. A date is better than being stuck at a boring shift you suppose. 

You change out of your work clothes in one of the inn’s refreshers, out of the clothes Mando last saw you in. This specific uniform is one of your favorites in your rotation; a dress with a revealing, square neckline that he most definitely checked you out in. You don’t blame him. 

You put on another dress, this one being a bit more modest; long sleeves, deep blue, and stopping at your mid thigh. You put your work uniform in your locker and head out, leaving the inn just as Maree, your relief for tonight arrives, You mouth a “thank you” to her as you pass by. It’s starting to get dark out and the streetlamps of Naboo are just about to be lit. It’s a beautiful place and part of you feels guilty for wanting to leave it so bad. But you know there’s more out there for you. 

You’re meeting this guy at Triton’s Tavern, closer to the center of Theed. That means it’ll be more expensive. Why did you let him pick the location again? Whatever, maybe he’ll pay. You arrive at Triton’s and wait outside for him. Kriff, what was his name again? …Oh, right. It’s Davin. 

“Hey there,” a voice calls from behind you, followed by a hand on your shoulder. You jump in surprise and the voice chuckles. You turn around and you’re met with a face you don’t recognize. It’s gotta be Davin. But what kind of person lays a hand on someone they’ve never met before? Oh great, this is gonna go swimmingly. 

“Didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Davin and you must be Lumya’s friend.”

“That’s me,” you say, voice stiff and irritated. 

“Shall we head inside?”

“Sure,” the uneasiness evident in your voice. Gotta turn it off if you want this date to work out. 

You head inside and make your way over to a booth in the back corner of the tavern. He orders your first round of drinks; revnog, and asks you all sorts of probing questions about you. 

“So, Lumya tells me you work at the Star-Lux.”

“I do.”

“Isn’t that place kinda… seedy?”

“Excuse me?”

“You know… run down, some unsavory characters hanging around there.”

“What do you mean by “unsavory characters”?” you ask, head tilting to the side. 

“You know… like prostitutes, drug lords, petty criminals.”

I mean Mando did apprehend a criminal there but that’s besides the point. 

“First of all, none of that is true. And second of all, what if it was? Are you trying to tell me I’m a bad person because of that?” 

“No! No! That’s not it at all. I’ve just heard the reputation and I thought I’d ask you.”

You sigh and lean back against the back of the booth. 

“Can you get us another round? I’m just going to go to the refresher,” you say, sliding out of the booth and not even waiting for a response. 

You lean over the sink in the refresher, staring at yourself in the mirror and trying to psych yourself up for this disaster of a date. Davin’s not… horrible looking, by any means. But from the brief conversation you just had with him, you’re not interested, not in the slightest. The only solution you can think of is to drink your way through it. 

You head back into the tavern and take your place in the booth. The second round of drinks has arrived and you waste no time downing yours. You let him do all the talking, having no interest in getting to know him. 

“So do you plan on working forever?”

“…Define forever.”

“Like when you get married and have kids.”

“Who said I wanted to get married and have kids?”

“Well, do you?”

“I mean I’d like to get married but I don’t think I want kids.”

“So what do you want to do with your life?”

“I’d like to travel,” you say, reading your elbow on the table and your head in your hand. 

“That’s not realistic.”

“What do you mean “it’s not realistic”?” you ask, head tilting to the side again.

“I mean based on what you make at the inn I doubt you make enough to travel.”

“Well what do you do? Since you’re suddenly the expert on what is realistic and what’s not.”

“I’m a professor at Naboo University.”

“Oh really?” you snort. 

“What’s so funny about that?”

“Didn’t think education was a… prosperous field,” you reply, choosing your words carefully. 

“It is, actually,” he says, folding his arms, “And if you’ll excuse me, I need to use the refresher as well.”

“Yeah I’m actually just gonna get a bit of fresh air outside for a moment. Kinda hot in here…” you say, once again getting up and not waiting for a response.

The sun has completely set now, the sky an inky black and the streetlamps lit with an amber glow. Pacing up and down along the street you think of a million reasons to get yourself out of this. This is by far the worst date you’ve been on. You can’t even think of any redeeming qualities for this guy. And what’s pathetic is you wish Mando was here right now. At least he tried to flirt with you regardless of how bad it was… if you could even call that flirting. 

You turn to pace the opposite direction and right before your eyes is none other than… Mando? This is weird. You can’t be hallucinating, revnog doesn’t do that to you. 

Yes, it’s really him. He calls out your name confusedly and you make your way over to him, both of you stopping in front of an alley. 

“Hey,” you smile at him, closing the gap between you two and placing your hand on his beskar breastplate. You swear you can hear him gulp when you do that. 

“Here for another bounty? Or did you come all the way here just to see me?” you flirt, glancing up into the T-shaped visor. 

Din

You can’t know the truth. He made the several rotations long journey just to try and find you. He stopped at the Star-Lux earlier in the evening but you were already gone. So he resigned to aimlessly wandering the streets in hopes of looking for you. And to his delight here you are, pacing in the street. 

You palm the growing bulge in his flight suit and he has to fight the urge to let out a strained kriff. 

“I want you, Mando,” you say, your eyes glancing up at him, pleading with him. 

He’s having a whole moral dilemma in his head. The rational, logical part of his mind is screaming no at him, yelling at him to stop, reminding him he has a wife at home. But the pleasure driven part of his mind is egging him on, telling him to do it, convincing him he deserves this. Ultimately he decides that you came onto him, therefore it’s not his fault. 

He practically drags you into the alley, pinning you up against the wall. His gloved hand palms your thigh, trailing up against your entrance. You part your legs for him, letting him gain better access to your cunt. Din’s going crazy right now, imagining how wet you must be. He curses his gloves for being a barrier between his hands and your warm, soft, wet sex. It’s so hard to restrain himself but he must. 

You have to be soaked, though, judging by the way a finger just effortlessly slid inside you. He watches your face, watches the way you close your eyes and your lashes fan out on your face, watches the way your mouth falls into a soft O as his fingers play with you. Half of your face is cloaked in the darkness of the alley but the other half is lit up from the streetlamp at the edge of the alley, basking the one half in a warm glow and lighting up one eye. He tries to memorize this moment exactly as it is; your pretty face, your soft moans, and his guilt not being present for once. All under the nighttime skies of Naboo.

He slides another finger inside you, curling them upwards against your walls; against your g-spot. Your moans grow louder so he brings his helmet beside your ear, both of your chests pressed up against each other, and says “Shh, mesh’la. Someone will hear.”

You don’t know what that word means but he knows you’re too far gone in pleasure to ask. He rubs his thumb around your clit and he knows you’re already at the edge, judging by how hard you have to try to stifle your moans.

You cum around his fingers, and he can sort of feel it through his cursed gloves, feeling the way your walls flutter around him. He needs you around his cock now. Back when he masturbated to the mental image of you at his house on Nevarro he never actually thought he'd get the chance to have you. And now here you are, looking up at him with eyes pleading for more, more of him, and everything he fantasized about is in reach. His cock strains against his flight suit begging to be released. 

“You want more?”

“Please, Mando. I need it.”

Kriff, you don’t know what you do to him. He’d love to tease you; to make you beg, but he’s far too desperate and horny to try that now. Another time, he supposes, if he gets lucky. 

He pulls his hand from you and takes his cock out of his flight suit and you look down at it. He suddenly feels self conscious about not only the size but also the fact that it’s uncut. Circumcision isn’t a practice in Mandalorian culture and sometimes with other women in the past they turned their nose up at the sight. But you look at it in astonishment (or so he hopes), eyes widened and mouth into a soft O again.

He strokes his cock with the same hand that fingered you, spreading your wetness all over it. You turn around and bend over for him, pulling up the skirt of your dress and exposing your ass. He’s gonna lose it now. 

He thrusts into you slowly, resisting the urge to do it in one clean motion. He finally gets to feel for himself how soft, warm and wet you are, fighting the impulse to cum already. If there is a heaven, he has found it, here in an alley on Naboo with you wrapped around his cock. His hands hook onto your hips as he begins to thrust in and out of you, feeling the way your plush ass collides with his groin. Your walls grip his cock as he buries it deeper and deeper inside you, expanding your walls as far as they can go. You can’t hold back your moans now, it feels too good. The alley is filled with your moans, your ass colliding with his groin and his own grunts. He feels your cunt grow tighter around him, you’re going to cum soon. And he needs to feel it. 

“Gonna cum, mesh’la (beautiful)?”

“I’m so close, Mando. Please,” you moan, voice choked up. 

He can’t see your face but he’s almost certain you’re on the verge of tears. 

“Give it to me,” he commands. 

And you do, hard. Your walls contract and release erratically before falling into a rhythmic pattern. He fucks you through your release, prolonging it even further. Your orgasm pulls his own from him before he knows it. And now his cock is painting your insides in ropes of his cum. This right here is heaven. If he had suspicions before this just confirmed it. 

But the bliss is cut short but a voice shouting, “Hey! What are you doing?! You were on a date with me!”

You

You stand upright and pull your dress back down, opening your mouth to yell back. Davin is angry to say the least, angrily storming towards you with a deranged look in his eye. But Mando beats you to it, putting his cock away and wasting no time, charging at him with his blaster drawn. 

Mando puts him in a headlock, holding the blaster against his head. 

“Leave her alone or you’ll have to deal with me, got it?” Mando says sternly.

“But-” Davin starts. But Mando cuts him off, tightening the grip around his head. 

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Fine. She’s all yours, I don’t care. Just let me go!”

He slowly releases the headlock and Davin stands upright. Mando keeps his blaster drawn and aimed at Davin who takes one last look at you and runs away. 

That was… hot, the way he effortlessly restrained Davin, the way he protected you. Between the endorphins released during sex and now this, you’re infatuated with him. 

“Sorry you had to see that,” he says softly. 

“Don’t be sorry. I should be thanking you.”

“Can I walk you home?”

You nod and walk side by side with him, leading the way back to your place. 

“Were you on a date when I found you?” he asks after a moment of silence. 

“Yeah,” you sigh, “My friend set me up with him and it just… wasn’t going well.”

“I could tell,” he chuckles. “Oh and sorry about you know… coming inside you.”

“Don’t worry! I have an implant. And thanks for helping me out back there.”

“Of course. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Nothing will happen to me as long as I’m with you.”

He doesn’t say anything and you wonder if that was too far, so you change the topic. 

“Did you come here for a bounty?”

“…Yeah.”

“Where did you have to go?”

“I had to…” he trails off. You wait for his response but he just quietly says, “I came here to see you.”

“You did?”

“Yes.” His voice is small, like he’s embarrassed. 

“That’s sweet, Mando,” you say, stopping in front of your building on the outskirts of town. 

You look at him, silver beskar illuminated under the moonlight. Your stomach twists into knots when you look at him. This night could not have ended better. 

“Thank you again.”

“Of course. Until next time,” he says, turning and walking towards the fields, cape billowing in the wind.

You hope there will be a next time. You have to learn more about him, that’s for sure. 

Chapter Three

Graphic by @nostalxgic

Banners + divider by @saradika

MAMH tag list: @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @catchallfangirl @patti7dc @nervoushottee @mandoisapunk @pr0ximamidnight @angel-in-beskar @littlegrungegirlaf @pamasaur @love-the-abyss @dameron-grant-spector @xdaddysprincessxx @drewharrisonwriter @milly-louise @engie115 @survivingandenduring @unit-1021 @rentaldarling @missladym1981 @csarab615 @swiftiegirliepop @spookyxsam @jbb-sgr @harriedandharassed

#din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #pedrostories #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #starwarsficnetwork #pedro pascal character fanfiction #mamh #married!din djarin #married!din djarin x reader

[vintagepvssy]

(Mostly) NSFW Headcanons Part III

Disclaimer: Slight spoilers so be warned. Just covering movies I have seen or characters I know enough about to judge. This is just for funsies, just my own personal opinions, so it’s totally okay if you disagree. Fully aware how much of an ass I’m being. Horny hater at my core.

Disco Pigs (2001) | Enda Walsh, Kirsten Sheridan - Darren

• starting out strong with THE freak of freaks

• not to state the obvious but.. possessive, dominating, jealous asf but also loyal asf

• Incel ass behavior, would definitely have a Reddit account, frequent user of 4chan.

• would jerk off to hentai titties if he could

• would probably ask you to do the ahegao face during sex…

On the Edge (2001) | John Carney - Jonathan Breech

• as much as he would hate to admit it.. hopeless romantic. Super devoted but would have an annoying tendency to flirt with other girls to see if you’d get jealous.

• honestly.. great first bf to have. Would absolutely destroy your perception of what love should be.. but hey isn’t that first loves?

• heavy breathing and moaning in your ear. Loves to give hickeys.

Sunburn (1999) | Nelson Hume - Davin McDerby

• oh davin… dead beat baby daddy fr.. loved his character arc regardless tho

• ngl probably absolute shit in bed. He screams premature ejaculator..

• has a porn addiction, but would hide it from you

• would pick up edging and would talk about your sex life very openly with “the boys”

• loves sending nudes and nut vids if he had the chance

Intermission (2003) | John Crowley - John

• he has no qualms about saying it: you’re a whore 😌

• probably feels the need to be in charge and take control but really.. you’d be the one calling the shots mostly

• definitely the type to make stupid jokes during sex

• whiny, would definitely triple text if you didn’t respond fast enough

• still a cutie ofc

• jealousy is his middle name

Girl with the Pearl Earring (2003) | Peter Webber - Pieter

• breeding kink but not in the fun way. Breeding kink in the way where he would wanna fuck like rabbits and procreate like rabbits.

• would want you to have like 6 of his kids is what I’m saying

• acts like he’s touch starved half the time, really handsy, likes to tease and leave kisses all over you

• knows how to handle his meat

At Deaths Door (1999) | Conor Morrissey - Young Reaper

• this one is just for shits and giggles

• it’s giving virgin, inexperienced but passionate

• shy asf, again you’d probably have to make the first move

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy characters #cillian murphy headcanons #cillian murphy gif #davin mcderby #sunburn #reaper shit fr #on the edge #disco pigs #darren from disco pigs #girl with a pearl earring #butcher taking care of business #enda walsh #intermission movie #forgive me for I have sinned #okay I’m done rambling now #thank you for reading you’re a doll

[jovenshires]

the official iwks lore dump post

okay this is long-overdue but basically both @spencersagnew and @hoohoobeanie asked me to do a little lore dump for if we keep score and here it is!! this is not everything by far (some of what's missing will be covered in future fics and some im simply forgetting) but this is the basics for all the stuff i felt like i couldn't include but i had in my brain - ages, mascots for different schools, etc

THE AGES OF THE MAIN CAST:

st charles:

SENIORS: spencer, damien, shayne, brennan

JUNIORS: alex t, jeremy, patrick, ify

SOPHOMORES: rock and tim

FRESHMAN: marcus

our lady of perpetual sorrow:

SENIORS: tommy, keith, garrett

JUNIORS: alex a, luke, duran

SOPHOMORES: andre and greg

FRESHMEN: chanse, josh, peter

THE AGES OF THE MINOR CAST:

holy trinity (based on the try guys and second try):

SENIORS: zach (captain), keith (vc), kwesi, nick

JUNIORS: johnny, hughie, alex, jared

SOPHOMORES: miles and jonathan

FRESHMEN: jack

aquinas academy (based on dropout tv):

SENIORS: sam (captain), brennan (vc), josh, murph

JUNIORS: zac, grant, trapp

SOPHOMORES: raph and tao

FRESHMEN: lou and jacob

st. george's (based on mythical):

SENIORS: josh (captain), david hill (vc), carney, jordan, lucas

JUNIORS: chase, davin, matt lieb, pasley, zack

SOPHOMORES: trevor

MASCOTS:

st charles: cheetahs (chosen because it alliteratively went with st charles)

our lady of perpetual sorrow: pirates (chosen because it alliteratively went with perpetual)

holy trinity: triceratops (i meannn. when they have a mascot already i simply must)

aquinas: spoonbills (lil inside joke for brennan lee mulligan's love of birds and that one game changer ep where sam tortured brennan with birds)

st. george's: roosters (once again i feel like i had to. i almost went with 'beasts' but i think roosters makes more sense)

MOTTOS:

st charles: Dirige Nos In Fide - Guide Us In Faith. (i knew this one from the very start because i had the speech ian gives him in my head. where spencer has faith in his team and that's why ian chose him to lead them. guide us in faith!!!)

our lady of perpetual sorrow: Est Gaudium in Dolore - There is Joy in Pain. (honestly this is tommy bowe's personal motto to me. no but i picked it bc tommy persevered despite all that he suffered

holy trinity: Conare Iterum Conare - Try Try Again. (this one is pretty on the nose BUT they're all about giving it their best shot even when they're the underdogs!! when they get knocked down they get up again! ain't nothing gonna bring us down!)

aquinas: Virtus in Culpa - Strength in Fault (their students are really, really intelligent and like. the best of the best. but that's because aquinas, though it's a school for academic excellence, is very relaxed with consequences for failure. like there's a lot of support for students who are struggling academically or behaviorally. we are only as strong as our faults!!)

st. george's: Esto Tuus Optimus - Be Your Best Self (once again they had it right there. be your mythical best!)

WHY I CHOSE THE SCHOOL NAMES:

(ive posted this before but im making this comprehensive!)

st. charles’ academy for boys: this is entirely based on spencer’s first name actually being charles LNDKNFLKNK like i knew i wanted to go with an all-boys school (as opposed to olops which is actually a co-ed school!) and i thought. “this is kinda funny.” and it was!

our lady of perpetual sorrow: this is actually - and i Did Not Know This - the catholic school from suite life of zack and cody SDFGHJK which means one of two things: 1. either i heard it there and it stuck in my brain and i didn’t realize OR 2. i just have the same brain cell as the suite life writers. i have no idea. but i chose that name bc, growing up in catholic school, i heard So Many ‘our lady of ___’ school names and i thought tommy, known Mental Illness actor, would enjoy 'perpetual sorrow’ as a nod to that knfkfnfk

holy trinity preparatory school: ah the easiest one tbh!! holy trinity because TRI. TRI bc there’s three of them and also it sounds like TRY. try guys! no more thought to it than that tbh.

aquinas academy: i went into it in more detail here, but basically st. thomas aquinas is the patron saint of college students - thus college humor, thus dropout!!

st. george: this one was a little more deep-cut!! i almost went with st. martha, the patron saint of the culinary arts, but i wanted their patron to encapsulate more of the crew rather than just the kitchen. even if it was josh’s world and we were all living in it. but basically, st. george is the patron saint of knights, cavalry, and armourers. he’s frequently depicted as slaying dragons and was often compared to many mythic heroes. therefore, you can consider st. george your official patron saint of mythicality!

SOME FUN FACTS THAT DIDN'T MAKE THE CUT:

damien is in the st. charles' choir which is why spencer plays guitar for them; he also does the school plays. he's a busy boy!

patrick is an altar boy and that's how he stole the communion wine

patrick and jeremy almost kissed when they got drunk off the communion wine and have NEVER talked about it

shayne is in the running to be valedictorian

chanse has a crush on tommy (and who can blame him.)

jackie does not do soccer and although she was at most of the games in iwks did NOT know what was going on

jackie also goes to public school bc i love her so she gets to win <3

i've mentioned this before but yes amanda and angela were on the same team in high school and were best friends (and..... you know. a little more than that maybe.)

tim is rock's calc tutor and it's not going well

if spencer had any input he would push for jeremy to be the next vc because he just has a soft spot for the guy and he thinks it would do him some good. but jeremy would rather die than be in charge of anything so <3

alex's hello kitty bandaids have nothing to do with like a ravenous love of hello kitty or anything - frankly they bought them because he thought they were cute and pink and sparkly. he didn't even realize they were hello kitty but that just makes them even better. they make All the players wear them when they can.

literally no one has told marcus who ian is so when he shows up at that one party he's just like. haha! who tf is this guy :) just smiling and nodding as if he knows what's going on but EXTREMELY confused by the stranger in jeremy's house

ify and patrick were buds before either of them met jeremy

brennan took four years of latin as we know, but what you don't know is that tommy took four years of french and damien took four years of german! (spencer took the minimum requirement of spanish and that's it LKDNKNFLFKN)

a lot of the team member's relationship with religion fluctuates but ian specifically is like. agnostic-christian. where he's like "idk what's out there but the Idea of christianity is comforting." he's not sure what he thinks about god but he's cool with praying does this make sense

tommy has spencer in his phone as "charles" forever and ever bc he said so. what is spencer gonna do. stop him?

despite the ban on interactions between the two teams damien and keith have been buds/texting each other for years. they are buds to ME.

chanse is like. en route to play professionally. he's being scouted like right now. he wanted to go to like a Specialized sports high school but his parents insisted on keeping him in catholic school

aaand trevor is putting in a transfer request as we speak LKSNDLK

okay i think that's it for now as far as lore goes. i hope you all enjoy!!

#iwks #fic #katie writes #spommy #personal #mine* #i believe in queue! spring break! #rpf #shut your pie hole katie

[st4rfckerz]

Feel free to disregard this Davin Mcderby with bimbo!reader who is a little on the thick side (body type wise)???

oh my goddd i love this concept, bimbo!reader is always fun. also first real post and request!!!

pairing: davin mcderby x bimbo!reader

word count: 0.8k words

warnings: smut (duh), oral (f receiving), fingering, slight body worship, kinda sub!davin, praise kink, not proofread so lmk if there's any mistakes

(not my gif!)

waking up davin is always a pain. usually you let him sleep in (like he isn't already), but his friends have been waiting on him for a while now.

"davin...davin!" you sit at the side of his bed and try to wake him for at least 10 minutes before he finally stirs.

"yeah? whatcha need?" is all he says, his thick accent is always enough to make you melt.

"your friends are waiting for you." you tell him. his friends are definitely used to him being late, so it's no surprise when you both arrive to your usually hang out spot in the middle of long island.

his friends greet him and eventually greet you as well, you give them all a smile and small finger wave. everyone in the group say at the same seats they usually do and you, well, you of course are always propped onto davin's lap like a prized trophy he won at carnival. it was completely normal to his friends.

while davin spoke to his friends, you mindlessly ran your dainty decorated fingernails through his auburn hair, not paying attention to a thing anyone is saying. and of course since davin is...davin, his hand will always rest itself on your tit. he can't help it. he's obsessed with your body. he's always liked his girls a little on the thicker side, and that's probably why he's getting a little impatient seeing how good your thighs look today.

your short skirt was hugging your hips in all the right places. not to mention the way that your tits are pressing against your tight baby pink shirt. you also had a bad habit of moving while sitting on his lap. it's enough to make him bust in his jeans.

"love..." he whispers to you and uses his hands to hold your hips still.

"what happened?" you look at him with innocent doe eyes. you were genuinely confused, oblivious to the way you were getting him all hot and bothered.

davin tries not to let his manly urges get the best of him, but he fails. so he quickly grabs your hand and dismisses his friends. he drags you both up to his apartment and immediately attacks your lips with his own while simultaneously walking you backwards to his bed. he pushes you onto it rather harshly and a slight squeal escapes your lips.

"i tried, i really did," davin begins lowering himself onto his knees. "i jus' need a taste." his voice is needy and desperate. he begins kissing your inner thighs and feeling up your waist and ass. seeing him like this never fails to get you all worked up and it always boosts his rather cocky ego when he sees how quickly you get wet for him.

he removes your skirt and your underwear and takes a minute to admire your already glistening pussy.

"fuck me..." he whispers to himself. he runs a finger across your slit before plunging two inside of you. he eventually latches his lips onto your clit, sucking harshly at the little bud.

the combination of his fingers and his mouth has you bucking your hips against his face.

he lifts his head to give you a few loving kisses to your lips before he moves down to your neck, marking you with a few purple hickies that you won't bother to hide later on.

"always so pretty for me," the sudden praise makes you whimper. your thighs clench around his fingers.

"you wanna cum for me pretty girl? hm?" you whine before muttering a small 'please' and he smiles at your neediness. he kisses you softly on your jawline before speaking once more.

"i want you to cum on my tongue." is all he says before he heads back down to your drooling pussy, his big hands hold your hips down to quit your squirming so he can really get in there.

he laps and sucks at your pussy like it's his last meal. he looks up at you lazy, half lidded eyes, he's absolutely pussy drunk. you pull at his hair and your thighs squeeze his head. davin's moans against your pussy vibrate through your body, and that's all it takes to get you tipping over the edge.

"d-davin, i'm..." you can't even form any words because of how overwhelmingly fast your orgasm was approaching.

"i know love, i can feel ya squeezin' against me." he chuckles before going back to your pussy.

strings of loud moans and whimpers fall from your lips and you cum against his mouth. your hips stutter more against his face as he helps you ride out your orgasm. your eyes stay shut as you come down from your high.

"thank you...for that." you thank him breathlessly. you turn your head quickly when you hear the sound of davin's belt buckle hitting the floor.

"oh love, i'm not done with you yet."

#nai writes ୨୧ #davin mcderby x reader #davin mcderby #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x y/n

[zzthekaiju]

LATGBG - Love Goes Down with the Ship

As Holden demonstrates why you shouldn't let a physical embodiment of chaos be at the wheel, poor Davin decides that now is a good time to let it all out...a pity the only ones listening are those who won't let him hear the end of it.

I swear, this comic came to me in a dream almost immediately after the last one (hence why I was able to complete it so soon). I look at this adorable tall lizard boi and I say to myself "listen, I love you, and I would put my life on the line to protect you, but putting you in these situations is too darn hilarious to pass up". So, here you have a case of peak meets peak (Next to HTTYD and KFP, the Madagascar trilogy is the best three-story pack Dreamworks has given us on account of it being the funniest).

And yes, I think you've probably figured out by this point that I have a major ship headcanon already. This show might as well have dangled a candy bar over my head when it provided a close-knit pair of polar opposite childhood friends with a reptile involved. Yes, I'm aware that they're just friends...but what if somewhere down the line that changes? It's adorable to think about! Now what do I call It? Siovin? Davona? Eh, you decide. Either way, let's not forget that all headcanons are valid here (or at least, they should be).

Also, I get a real kick imagining how Holden and Mika could be disaster "friends" in canon. It's order vs. mayhem all the way.

As always, enjoy!

#my art #fanart #comic #lumi and the great big galaxy #latgbg #davin #siona #holden #mika

[loverhymeswith]

Sweater Weather || Davin McDerby

Day One of the October Dreams 1K Follower Event

Pairing: Davin McDerby x F!Reader

Summary: Summer might be over but your feelings for Davin won’t fade so easily.

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: Drinking, language, Davin being tooth-rottingly sweet

A/N: This was partially inspired by the song Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood and my undying devotion for Davin. Shout-out to @a-reader-and-a-writer for assuring me the opening was ok, and to @runnning-outof-time as I know you love Davin too <3

Coffee, alcohol, cigarettes; the things you desire most are so often bad for your health. 

Davin McDerby is no exception.

You met him in the summer. A scrawny kid, thousands of miles away from home. Skinny ankles and pink lips unreasonably delicate for the harsh angles of his face, russet hair streaked with copper and pale skin turning darker by the day. He was far too handsome for his own good.

You still remember the white t-shirt he was wearing that first day on the Montauk beach. How it clung to his lithe frame as he wrestled with Robert in the sand. The silver chain peeking out from beneath his collar daring you to look twice.

And you had looked twice. It was impossible to avert your gaze, even if it felt a little too much like staring into the sun. Like so many beautiful but dangerous animals, the warning you beheld in Davin’s bright blue eyes was undeniable. 

Step too close and you might get burnt.

Because while his elegant veneer might have evoked the memory of a renaissance painting, in reality, he was an accident waiting to happen, all wrapped up in a pretty bow.

A self-proclaimed fuck up, Davin McDerby has the world in his hands but his head is firmly in the clouds. Full of overconfidence and bad decisions, he lives like there is no tomorrow. His sole purpose: the pursuit of happiness.

You didn’t want to be just a stop along the way.

He comes to you now after dark, a bottle of cheap wine clutched in his hands and a smile that lights up the October night sky. When he calls your name, you realise with a start that his pleasantly lilting accent has no less effect on you than it did back in the summer. 

“Could’a given me the heads up.” Without waiting for an invitation, he drops onto the seat opposite you at the picnic table. “Didn’t know you were back in town.” 

Music and chatter from your uncle’s bar drifts out into the cold night air, but you barely notice, so keenly attuned as you are to Davin’s presence. His company instantly drives away the chill and transports you back to the long summer days you’d spent together.

“Hello Davin. How are you?”

Despite your sterile, perfunctory greeting, his grin remains. He seems genuinely pleased to see you. “I’m grand. You comin’ to the party?”

“What party? Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

This summer had been Davin’s first in America, but it quickly became apparent that he would have no trouble fitting in. The locals fell in love with him and it was only a matter of days before he’d sweet-talked your uncle Cormac into giving him a job beside you behind the bar. 

And just like that, your vow to keep your distance from Davin had been rendered obsolete.

He’d sidled up to you at the beginning of his very first shift, a dish towel slung over his shoulder and a twinkle in his eye as he’d asked, “do you know how to make a Sex on the Beach?”

You’d rolled your eyes at the cheap shot, but nevertheless had proceeded to watch in fascination as he mixed the drink with excessive flair and a distinctive laugh, his red shirt riding up to reveal a swath of pale skin. Somewhere in the back of your mind, a voice had pleaded, give him a chance.

Perhaps that had been your mistake.

Davin unscrews the wine before taking a long mouthful, straight from the bottle. When he offers you a drink, you shake your head, pretending not to notice how his plump lips glisten under the glow of the patio lights.

“Cormac gave me the night off. Some of the boys are havin’ a Halloween party. You should come.”

“Is it fancy dress?” you ask, though you have no intention of taking him up on the offer. You only came here tonight because you’re a glutton for punishment, knowing very well that Davin was likely to be around. 

“Of course,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“So where’s your costume?”

“This is me costume.” He gestures to his dark sweatshirt and pulls up the hood dramatically, his angular face standing out like a pale moon against the darkness. “I’m the Grim Reaper, see?”

It’s fitting, you think. Past experience gives you little doubt that his appearance is a portent of trouble to come. 

“Where’s your scythe?”

“Left it at home.” Davin shrugs. “So, what d’ya say? You wanna go?”

You turn your gaze to the ocean, the roaring of the waves echoing the rush of your blood as you remind yourself why going anywhere with Davin is a bad idea. “I don’t think so.”

“Ah come on now. You’ve got to. Haven’t you missed me? I’ve missed you.” There’s nothing in his tone to suggest he’s telling anything other than the truth. 

And that’s the problem. 

Davin has never been like the rest of the boys with their painfully obvious attempts to get into your pants. In between your joint shifts at the bar, the only thing he ever seemed to want from you was your company, dragging you along from one adventure to the next; pool hopping, surfing lessons, road trips. And now, Halloween.

Waiting for your answer, he taps his fingers on the table and pouts. “You finally grace us with your presence after all this time, but now you don’t wanna hang out? Come on, it’ll be a laugh.” Almost as an afterthought, he adds, “the costume is optional.”

“All this time? Davin, it’s not even been two months.”

“Yeah well, it feels like longer.” He takes another swig from the bottle and you find yourself inclined to agree. 

As the Manhattan trees started shedding their leaves and the end of summer bled into the beginning of fall, your thoughts never strayed far from Davin. You thought that after hightailing it back to the city, you’d be able to shake him, that the distance would somehow help you to forget. But like cotton candy caught between your teeth or the last grains of sand stuck in your sneakers, the memory of his rosy cheeks and freckled shoulders followed you all the way back to New York.

Davin lapses into silence, occasionally sipping from the bottle as he watches you intently across the table, the ghost of a lop-sided grin beginning to form across his lips. With every passing minute it feels like you’re fighting a losing battle. 

Unable to conceal your unease any longer, you reach across the table and swipe the bottle of wine from his hands. “Would you stop staring at me?” 

“Now, why would I wanna do that?”

Before you can offer a suitable response, Davin rises to his feet and rounds the table, pulling you up from your seat. His hand is surprisingly soft and warm as he laces your fingers with his own.

“What are you doing?” Despite your protest, you make no attempt to shake him off.

“I’ve decided.”

“Decided what?”

“That you’re comin’ to the party with me. Won’t be any fun on me own.”

Something tells you that even without you, Davin would hardly be on his own. But against your better judgement, you let him lead you away from the bar, that little voice in the back of your mind traitorously gleeful that he’s managed to draw you in all over again, just like a moth to the flame.

The big, white-stone house overlooking the beach is crowded when you arrive, the party already in full swing. The music, loosely themed for the occasion, is too loud and you have to lean in close to hear Davin over the speakers.

“You want to drink or dance first?” he shouts.

“Drink first, dance later,” you reply, thankful that the party is so busy that no one will notice your lack of costumes. The guest list boasts a colourful array of witches, vampires and monsters; even with his hood still drawn up, Davin looks as underdressed as you.

“Fine, but you owe me a dance.”

The drinks flow freely over the next few hours, but the two of you spend most of your time talking, abandoning the makeshift dance floor to squeeze onto the end of a worn leather sofa, so close you’re practically sitting in one another’s laps.

“I’m glad you came back,” Davin tells you after a while, his warm breath tickling your neck as you battle against the rising volume of the sound-system.

“Temporarily,” you remind him, uncertain of whether it’s the alcohol or Davin’s proximity that is to blame for your current light-headedness. “Why’s that?”

He tugs down his hood, finally, and leans in closer, the lengths of his soft hair brushing against your cheek. “Well, after you left without sayin’ goodbye, I thought I’d done somethin’ wrong. It’s usually my fault, you know. Drivin’ people away. Story of me fuckin’ life.”

You draw back to look at him properly and find his usually carefree expression marred with concern. “It wasn’t about you, Davin. I had to go back to college. And I’m just…I don’t know. I guess I’m bad with goodbyes.”

Lies. Lies. Lies.

He shakes his head, as if he can see beyond your facade. As if he can read your innermost thoughts. “Ahh look, I know I made mistakes. And I feel bad about them. Really, I do.”

There’s no hiding the apprehension in your voice, or the pounding in your chest when you press him for more details. “What mistakes do you think you’ve made?”

Almost absently, his hand moves to your waist, specifically to the patch of bare skin below the hem of your cropped t-shirt. You suppress the urge to shudder. 

“Well, for a start I was so busy with the ‘pursuit of happiness’, I never noticed what was in front of me.” His gaze travels across your face.

On bated breath and hyper-aware of his fingers tightening - almost imperceptibly - around your waist, you prompt him to continue. “Which was?”

Davin blinks slowly, his blue eyes even more intense than usual. “You.”

“Me?” 

“Yeah.” He laughs, uncharacteristically nervous all of a sudden. “Cause I never got round to kissin’ you, did I?”

You’re certain you misheard him over the music, even as bells are clanging in your head. “What?” 

“Kissin’ you,” he repeats with more conviction this time, his lips twitching up at whatever he sees in your expression. “I mean, didn’t you ever think it was funny?” 

Your heart flutters, impatient for him to get to the point. “Think what was funny?” 

“That we never hooked up?”

Your mouth opens and closes at least three separate times as you search your whirling mind for something to say in response. You’ve given far too much thought to that very question over the last few months. In fact, it’s the reason that you ran away.

Even though you’d been painfully aware that Davin would wind up breaking your heart ever since that first day on the beach, you had been waiting on tenterhooks for him to make some kind of move. 

But the summer had worn on and nothing had happened. As far as you were concerned, he’d simply put you in the friendzone and you had no intention of trying to claw your way out, despite how much you were attracted to him. Despite how much it hurt. 

You knew he’d slept with probably a dozen other girls, so you couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong with you. What were you lacking? He was content to spend his days with you, but not his nights. Not his bed.

“Umm. Are you gonna say somethin’?” Davin asks tentatively, interrupting your racing thoughts. “Cause if I’m honest, you kinda look like you want to murder me.”

“Don’t tempt me, Davin,” you warn, overcome with the urge to do just that. “Why are you only telling this now?”

He grins, squeezing your waist even tighter, something about your reaction giving him the confidence he needs to continue. “I always thought you were too good for me. I was scared if I made a move I was gonna fuck everythin’ up. But tonight feels like fate or destiny or some other spooky shit. And the way I see it, I might not get another chance.”

“You’re an idiot, Davin McDerby.”

He captures your face in his hands. “Of course I am. Don’t sound so surprised.”

Slowly but surely, he closes the distance, his lips as delicate as petals as they brush over your own. You’re no longer aware of your surroundings, the lights and music fading into the background. The only sound is the pounding rhythm of your heart. The only sight is Davin, wide-eyed as he withdraws to study your reaction, uncertainty cast across his striking features.

You loop your arms around his neck and pull him back in, deepening the kiss that you’ve been waiting for, all this time. 

When the two of you finally part, Davin rests his forehead against yours, his eyes soft as they meet your own and his smile warm and gentle. “Now you have it.”

October Dreams Taglist: @zablife @a-reader-and-a-writer

#cillian murphy #davin mcderby #sunburn #sunburn 1999 #october dreams #october #follower celebration #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy x reader

[should-be-sleeping]

I have this Sim I've played since forever named Devin Whole Foods. He drives a Prius. There's never been a Sims game in which Devin hasn't existed.

During a random event this guy named Davis showed up in town and I decided his earth tone cardigan and gold shoe combo made him an ideal bud for khakis and flip flops all year round Devin. Once they eventually became BFFs, Devin had the option to try for a baby with him.

So obviously he and his beastie had a baby together and then Davis did the absolute funniest thing he could do and named the baby by just combining their names together.

Devin has 124 children and this is the best one. All of the others are named random mundane shit like Susan or John. I'm moving Davis and Davin in immediately and making them immortal. Incredible.

Davin is going to inherit the world.

#the sims

[coldresolve]

Moneymakers, pt.xxxv // Aftermath of Nervous

Previous / AO3 / Wattpad / Masterlist / Next

It’s like nothing he’s ever heard before. Brainless. Unfiltered. Like the guy’s voice splinters, sending ice cold shards through the room. Crawling down his spine, an expected form of arousal creeping its way through a body still sore from running. His elbow aches to the bone. The pool of blood between Davin’s feet steadily expands.

Renee swears that he finds a deep satisfaction in what he sees, but there’s something else, something new. Something he doesn’t entirely understand, mixed as it is with that twitch in his hands, the mark of his desire.

He finds himself struggling with the urge to take a step backwards. Imagines crossing the threshold between kitchen and hallway, retreating into his room, and closing the door behind him.

Instead his eyes are fixed on the arch of Conrad’s back, the strain of his shoulders. The way the ropes dig into his wrists so hard, his hands turn red and swell from a lack of circulation.

That final cut, and Conrad’s near-silent reaction, is what ultimately makes Renee shudder.

In the silence that follows, walls echoing with the memory of violence, Renee becomes mindful of his racing heart, the rush in his ears, contrasted breathing that comes so slow, it’s making him lightheaded. He blinks.

“… holy shit.”

Davin casts him a quick glance, calmly stepping back from the table. His hands drip red at his sides, the dark burgundy of deoxygenated blood interspersed with streaks of a more vibrant vermilion. He cocks his head to the side as he takes a closer look at Conrad’s face. The crease at the corner of his mouth is ambiguous – might be satisfaction, might be dissatisfaction. Nothing else in his expression betrays his state of mind. Eventually, he walks over to the sink and starts the faucet. There’s a soft clank of metal against metal as the scalpel is discarded, and Davin begins to wash his hands.

The wound gapes a good two inches, but so much blood is pooled within it, it’s impossible to tell how deep it goes. Tiny ripples on the surface betray a racing heartbeat. Conrad, otherwise completely limp at this point, occasionally twitches a little, breaths whistling in his throat. Curly hair, drenched in sweat, sticks with a sheen to his skin. Tear-streaked eyes, half-open but unseeing, stare motionless toward the table. He looks far gone.

Renee’s mouth is dry.

Davin returns, hands clean, and begins tending to Conrad, as if something in this carefully balanced dynamic didn’t just dramatically shift. The ropes are loosened. A palm on the forehead, another on the neck, thumb digging into the flesh over the jugular; Conrad doesn’t stir. A syringe is produced from Davin’s medicinal bag, as well as a small vial. He flicks the cap off with his thumb, retracts the plunger to a desired dose, injects air through the vial’s lid, and lets the surplus pressure in the glass fill the syringe with a clear liquid. Casual work. Whatever Davin injects Conrad with, it steadily evens out his breathing, and his eyes drift all the way closed, and the twitching eventually stops.

Despite the broken window, the coldness of the room, the air feels stifled. That tangy, metallic smell that bites with every breath. Renee waits until Davin has gathered his usual stitching kit, the packs of threaded needles, the saline solution, the disposable rags, before he clears his throat. “Do you need me for anything?”

Davin looks up at him. Keeps his gaze for just a moment too long, in that damned curious, contemplative way. “We’ve got quite a few stitches to get through,” he mutters. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt with an extra set of hands.”

Renee lets out an awkward laugh, shaking his head. “Nah, I don’t know how to…”

“It’s not complicated,” Davin says.

Renee laughs again, but it falters the moment he sees the hint of amusement tugging at the corner of Davin’s lips. He shifts his weight, eyes flickering to the gaping wound. “Are you serious?”

Raising a brow, Davin picks a latex glove out of a carton full of them. The soft snap of the elastic material as he pulls it on. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of getting your hands dirty.”

Renee lets out a snort. “I’m not.”

Davin cocks his head to the side. “What’s the problem, then?”

A dry chuckle. The shrug of a shoulder. “Nothing. Sure, whatever.”

Nodding, Davin pulls another glove for himself, and then hands the carton to Renee with a casual smile. It’s only when he turns away that Renee lets himself grit his teeth, swallowing down that strange, revolting feeling.

The first towel Davin sticks into Conrad’s thigh is completely soaked through, dripping, when it resurfaces. The next stains at a slower pace. Davin unscrews the lid of the saline solution, and methodically cleans the wound and the skin immediately surrounding it, pouring and dabbing away, little by little.

Renee slowly walks closer as he pulls the latex gloves on. Five cloths in, with no blood to obscure the view, the sheer depth of the wound is almost enough to make him suck in a breath between his teeth. The gorge must reach halfway through the leg. The yellow-ish bubbly tissue directly under the skin, the neat separation between that and darker flesh. At the bottom of the cut, little bands of something, running from one side to the other. One looks like a reddish purple cord, and it pulses faintly, the color seems to shift in a rhythm. Other bands are lighter, look almost frayed. None are wider than a centimeter.

It looks fake, in a way Renee can’t entirely explain. Like it’s simultaneously there and not there. His gaze flickers briefly to Conrad’s face. Then down to his own arms, skin dotted. Hair raised.

The crinkling of plastic by his side makes his attention snap back up. Davin, opening one of the packets of threaded needles, is watching him, expression unreadable. “We do a row of buried stitches,” he says. “This thread’s gonna dissolve after a few weeks.”

Renee nods a little.

Davin picks up a pair of pliers, carefully positioning the bottom of the curved needle in its grip. “You hold the needle like this,” he says. “You keep a towel in your other hand. When you’re wiping off blood, don’t drag the towel in the wound, that’s just gonna deposit fibers and raise the risk of infection. Dab it instead.”

“Alright.”

Davin sniffs, motioning for Renee to follow as he bends over the wound. “You start from the bottom, like this,” he mutters, driving the needle into flesh without further hesitation, “and curve up right before you hit the junction between… see the difference in layers there?”

“Yeah.”

“The other side, you start parallel to the exit of the last stitch, going down. Don’t worry about pulling the tissue around a bit to make room for it... See how the leading and trailing part of the thread are both at the bottom now? Give it two inches when you cut it, pick up another set of pliers… you wrap it around like this, three times, lead the other one through, tighten… keep some tension on it. Another regular knot to keep it in place, that’ll hold just fine. See?”

“Yeah.”

Davin straightens up, shooting him a look. “Need me to show you again?”

“Uh,” Renee says. “I think I got it.”

With a smirk, Davin hands him the pliers, the threaded needle. The touch is muted under the gloves, but the pliers are still cold enough to discern. Renee catches himself before his eyes can flicker to Conrad’s face again, as he positions himself like Davin did. Feels the other’s keen eyes on his back, his hands. Takes a subdued breath, suppressing urge to stall, and pushes the needle sideways from the bottom of the gorge.

It glides through with little to no resistance, but Renee can still feel that stringy, raw texture of it, little pinpricks of muscle fibers giving way. He feels the aggressive heat of Conrad’s flesh on the back of his hands. The needle does most of the work steering itself back out of the curve, not directly above where he started, but close enough. The other side is harder to get right. He starts too low and has to retract the needle, and then the wound starts seeping blood, not a lot, but enough to obscure the view. He dabs it away, tries again, gets it somewhat right, more blood, he dabs it away. Wonders why his hands feel so difficult to control. Knotting the line isn’t easy, the thread slips out of the grip of the pliers unless you hold it a certain way. Two sides are drawn together as the thread is tightened. How do wounds like this even heal? You’re just slapping meat together, that’s all you’re doing.

There’s a sense in him, once he has cut away the excess of the knot. Relief? Disgust?

“Could’ve been worse,” Davin says, giving him a short nod. He sifts through packets of thread, pulls one out. The needle looks different than the one Renee is using, slightly thicker, and the curve isn’t as sharp. “Thirty more of those, and I’ll let you fuck off.”

Renee nods. Clears his throat. “Sorry for acting weird,” he mutters before he can stop himself, “I just didn’t expect…”

Finessing the plastic cover of the packet, Davin looks up, but doesn’t speak. Instead he waits, patiently, for Renee to continue.

There’s a pause. A shrug. “I took some shit yesterday. I’m still kinda… y’know.” Renee points to his temple, chuckling.

Davin nods. “Got it.”

Renee swallows. Eyes flickering between points in the wall. His emotions seem to flash in his head from microsecond to microsecond, too quickly to differentiate. The anger is there, as it always is, but it’s directionless, confused. Although he’s aware of Davin’s eyes on him, he’s slow to position the needle back in the pliers, slow to lean back over the wound.

Five stitches in, Davin gently pushes him slightly to the side and begins suturing the surface of Conrad’s thigh back together, his hands above Renee’s. Occasionally tells Renee to redo whatever stitches he deems to be too sloppy. Something about being shoulder to shoulder with the guy is unnerving. They both have to occupy a tight space to work, arms rubbing up against each other. It’s like a cursed rendition of the scene from Ghost, except despite Davin’s fucking reptilian nature, he actually gives off body heat.

The faster Renee can get this over with, the faster he can get blasted out of his mind, forget about everything.

Strangely enough, that’s the thought that finally makes him feel normal enough to push through apprehension. Needle in, needle out, cut the thread, tighten the knot, rinse and repeat. It’s not about Conrad, it’s about dead meat. You get used to the smell of blood; it starts to feel as though it was always there. What just happened? Nothing, fuck it. You can get high, you can wipe the slate clean. Rinse and repeat.

“I just want you to see me as human.”

Fuck you.

Fuck you.

Previous / Masterlist / Next

#writing #moneymakers #davin #renee #good to be back :)

[hvcmixtape]

this is for the lovely cece! (@shuatm) surprise i'm sh(elle), hence the 🐚 emoji for when i was messaging you as your secret santa <3 i hope you really enjoy this fic! i really liked the mistle-foe game you played with your friends so i repurposed it in a way to fit the fic! and aside from the fic, i hope your christmas and holiday season has been lovely so far and you have great energy coming into the new year

and thank you to my friends in the @k-labels server who worked alongside me for the past days while i was getting this done! shout out to davin (@renhaissance), soul (@l-luvr), kana (@luvhyun3), freya (@angelwoozi), and zoe (@badwithten) who were all there at some point while i was writing this so thank you for playing a huge role in me finishing this fic!

pairing: high school!joshua x fem!reader; academic rival!joshua wc: ~5k genre: fluff ; some swearing, but no trigger warnings

The second you feel an icy, dripping sensation down the back of your neck, it’s over for him. You whip your head around and scrunch your nose, balling your fists to edge the urge to scream. “I’ll kill you, Joshua Hong!”

“You can’t kill me, I’m half your grade!” He yells behind his back as he starts tripping over his feet before Joshua goes into a full sprint—as much as he can run with snow on the ground.

With your scarf thrown around your neck, it coasts on the wind behind you as you start to run after Joshua, weaving through the crowd of students waiting for their rides home at the end of the school day. You yell out warnings to passersby, more so for yourself so you don’t jinx anything and fall flat on your face.

You know you’ve caught up to his figure when you grip a hand on the shoulder of his black puffer. “Gotcha!”

…And that’s not the face you were looking for when you are met with the soft face of Jeonghan, one of your classmates. “Sorry, Hannie, you weren’t the person I was looking for. But I’ll see you later!”

Your eyes squint as you see Joshua’s face beyond the scope of Jeonghan and before he can accept your apology, you’re already moving forward with fire in your eyes. The satisfying crunch of fallen snow can’t be more satisfying than the punch you’ll throw toward Joshua’s chest in a few seconds—

“Wait a minute, (Y/N)!” Joshua’s desperate voice is accompanied by his open palms protecting his chest. Your lips purse toward one side of your face as you hold yourself back from moving. Any closer and you’d be in his face. “You can’t kill me because one, our final project is still not done and I’m literally half your grade, and two, we have to get going—everyone’s waiting for us to draw the names for Secret Santa.”

With a roll of your eyes, you let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. You’re spared,” and with a sailing fist to his bicep, “for now.”

“(Y/N), ow. That actually hurt.” Joshua pouts, but he still leads the way toward Seungcheol’s house, the location of the Secret Santa drawing and exchange for the past four years. Now that you’re all seniors, you’re sure the burning thought on everyone’s minds is where the future will take you all. But the thought of the future can’t overshadow what’s in front of you, and what’s in front of you is Joshua Hong, the guy you’ve been chasing after in each class since freshman year.

His tongue-in-cheek bickering has accompanied each assignment you’ve had, and when you get even a point lower on a test, your blood boils in your chest when his condescending voice sings, “Maybe you can do better next time, I’ll teach you if you want.” 

How you ended up being in the same friend group as your academic rival was lost on you, yet your dynamic with Joshua has never changed throughout the years. 

“You had to be nice to each other at least once, right? Like maybe when we first formed the friend group?” Seungkwan reasoned when he brought it up to you earlier in the semester. Everyone was there except Joshua, who had soccer practice. “Joshua’s one of the nicest people I know too!”

“To everyone except me! Believe me,” you scoff at Seungkwan’s frown. “I’ve tried to be nice to him, but sometimes he’s just so insufferable,” you argue on your lonely island of one. From the corner of your eye, you could see Mingyu and Wonwoo share a look, and you huff. “I’m being serious! Like no way someone is just their mama’s boy who always goes to church is so nice all the time.”

“Sounds like you’re projecting,” Vernon chides as one of his eyebrows lifts up. “We’ve been friends all this time, and you still can't get along with him. Have you even tried to put in any effort?” 

So maybe you've put in a good 5 percent of effort to be nice before you start being catty, but it's also on Joshua to be nice to you too! Like he’s being right now as he lets you go ahead of him when you approach Seungcheol’s door. 

You tiptoe in, but there’s no use when Seungcheol yells, “Finally! We’ve been waiting for too long.” He emerges from the other room and his eyes almost bug out of his head when he sees the sight ahead of him. With a low whistle, there’s a smirk on his face that you want to get rid of. “Ho, ho, ho, merry Christmas, am I right? Can’t believe I’m seeing a Christmas miracle.”

“Fuck off, Cheol.” Jabbing your thumb in the air behind you, you explain that you weren’t planning on coming in together. “But this kid wanted to throw a snowball at the back of my neck.”

“Hey, it was just so tempting considering the first snowfall was yesterday.”

“What’s so tempting is me punching you for real.”

Joshua’s face gets increasingly closer to yours, finding a way to tick you off further. “Oh? Why don’t you do it then?” You can feel his breath on you as he taunts you.

You start walking over to where you hear the rest of your friends, but Seungcheol grips your shoulder. “Uh, uh, uh. Look up.”

You and Joshua tilt your chins up to the ceiling, green leaves tied together with a red bow taunting your whole being. 

“Mistletoe…” Joshua whispers as he dissects the leaves with his vision, as if it'll slowly dissipate the longer he looks at it.

“Like hell, I’ll kiss Joshua.” You shove Seungcheol lightly, pushing your way toward the living room where your friends’ faces lighten up at your appearance.

“(Y/N)!” Seungkwan exclaims happily. “Did you get stuck under the mistletoe? I heard a little bit of what you were saying at the door.”

“Yeah, (Y/N) didn't wanna kiss me, their loss,” Joshua says as he shrugs himself around you, tossing his backpack on the ground and joining Seungkwan and Vernon on the carpet. 

With Seungcheol following not soon after, he yells, “Mingyu, how many times have I told you not to put your feet on the coffee table?”

Mingyu puts his feet back on the ground. As Joshua, Seungkwan, and Vernon sit around the coffee table to discuss the physics test they just took, Wonwoo and Mingyu sit on one couch, and Seungcheol makes his way to sit beside Jeonghan (who somehow made it there before you and Joshua) on the other couch. 

You take the last seat near the fireplace, kicking off your shoes and curling up near the heat. You've always loved Seungcheol’s house. During the holiday season, you loved to help his mother hang stockings on the mantle and ornaments on their tree. Her highest compliment was her loving how you arranged the poinsettias on their dining table. It’s a good change of pace from what you're used to.

“Who’s ready to pick?” Seungcheol pipes up once individual conversations die down.

“I mean, it doesn’t matter because we’ll know immediately who (Y/N) has,” Joshua jokes and Vernon dabs him up for that.

You can’t help but roll your eyes and say, “Yeah, let’s just start before Joshua has anything else to say about me.”

Just like last year and the year before that, Vernon takes a beanie out of his backpack to serve as the selection bowl. Each person rips a small slip of paper from Jeonghan’s notebook and writes their name down. Again, the thoughts flood your head, wondering if next year will be anything like this when you all go down your different paths.

“Everyone put their names in the hat,” Vernon puts his arms out, and everyone reaches over to drop their paper in.

“Hey, watch it!” Seungkwan glares at Jeonghan when he feels his head jostling from a push.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Jeonghan says but still laughs heartily as he settles back into the couch before Seungkwan can launch himself to get in a punch. Even though Jeonghan is older than him, Seungkwan’s hands and feet are ready for anything, especially if it’s Dino, the youngest friend in their friend group.

Mingyu leads by pinching the fabric closed and shaking it. With his eyes closed, he opens it back up and selects a slip out of the hat, slower than ever.

“Does he know that this isn’t the Triwizard Cup?” Vernon quips, and you can’t help but laugh. Everyone else starts erupting, whether it’s in chuckles or complaints, and one of Mingyu’s eyes slowly opens.

When he figures out who he has, he nods with a smile and passes the hat to Wonwoo. It keeps going on and on until it’s Joshua’s turn.

While you hope you don’t get Joshua, you do hope that he does get you. Out of all the boys, Joshua is the most thoughtful when it comes to gift-giving. Three years ago, as freshmen, you received the best gift you’ve probably ever gotten.

“This is a huge package,” you mutter to yourself, and you glare immediately at Seungcheol before he says any “that’s what she said” jokes. As you’re removing the wrapping paper, you’re wondering what you could have done in your life (and past life) to be the recipient of such a big gift.

“You’re taking so long, (Y/N),” Jeonghan complains as you try to remove the wrapping paper all in one piece. Even the wrapping paper is beautiful with metallic gold and silver lines running along it. “You’re not even going to keep it!”“You don’t know that!” You yell back. 

He totally knows that you won’t.

As you speed up the process, you open the box and are met with a Studio Ghibli movie poster for your room, a stunning stationery set, and an Animal crossing figure for your favorite villager. You’re ready to move on and guess who gave you your present, but you notice one last small box in the corner of the package. 

When you pick it up, the suede container is so enticing, but you want to savor the moment. You lift the top off.

“(Y/N), you’re going to catch flies,” Vernon laughs.

“What is it?” Seungkwan leans over, and when his eyes catch what’s inside, he knows why you can’t help dropping your jaw.

You unconsciously rub your neck, running your finger over the gem and the initial of your first name attached to the chain. It has always been your favorite gift, even if your rival was the one who gave it to you. 

Joshua loves to act like he has everything under control, so when he pulls his slip of paper, the smile on his face never fades. There is no scrunch between his eyebrows or nose. He’s the poster boy for calm, cool, and collected.

Right after him is you and you’re determined to be just like Joshua. He passes you the hat, maintaining eye contact for probably the first time in a month before he goes back to joking with Jeonghan about your facial expressions.

You choose the slip of fate after swishing your fingers around. Before you open it, you swivel your head to check if anyone’s looking and lean back in your chair.

The folds get straightened out and your heart rate rises, by a lot, and your eyebrows pull up toward the top of your forehead, and—

There’s no way…you got Joshua? 

You’ve crossed off each day on your calendar, and today is no exception. Before you leave your bedroom, you take your red pen and cross off on December 19th, the last day of school before winter break. Underneath the number, a reminder is written about the Secret Santa exchange.

There’s no need to ask you how you feel about being Joshua’s gift-giver this season, especially given the fact that you could very well be his last one too. In the conversations that you overhear (not eavesdrop), he’s told Vernon and Jeonghan that he’s in talks with an entertainment company in his mother’s homeland. He wants to make a name for himself and try it out for a year. If it works out, he’ll keep going. If it doesn’t work out, he’ll apply to UCLA or UC Irvine just like everyone else.

What an extravagant plan for a gap year, huh?

Either way, you want to make this the best Secret Santa any of your friends have ever seen. 

Bless the soul of your teachers, who seem to want to work less than the students, and you breeze through the day with a full stomach from the holiday parties in each class period. At the end of the day, the school assembles in the auditorium for the annual senior superlative Christmas show.

Seungcheol sits on a throne as the star of the show, Santa Claus—as if he could have been anyone else. Mingyu and Wonwoo opted to be Santa’s security and stand behind him with black vests and shades, arms crossed as if they were monitoring the situation. Vernon hangs out on the edge of the stage with Jeonghan and Seungkwan, who are all gingerbread men. You’re sitting in the back of the stands, ruffling your wings when they call out the names of the angels. The one you want to laugh at is Joshua, whose been appointed as everyone’s favorite red-nosed reindeer. 

The show goes off without a hitch, and you can’t say you were surprised when your ears perked up when you hear your name called…in conjunction with Joshua’s.

“Been working since freshman year for this very moment,” Joshua quips as he slings his arm around your shoulder to pose for the photographer. This very picture will be going into the yearbook with the description “Best School Rivals.”

“I’m clearly the better one,” you roll your eyes after the flash goes off.

“In your dreams, (Y/N),” he says behind his shoulder as you both head back to your seats.

There’s not much left in the school day when the show ends with all the seniors thanking their teachers with words and gifts, so you’re ready to exchange your halo and wings for comfier clothing to go to Seungcheol’s house for Secret Santa.

“Ah, (Y/N), don’t change until after the exchange,” Jeonghan tells you as you clean out your locker for the semester.

You’re still placing books into your bag when you ask for the reason.

“We need to take pictures! We’re only seniors once,” he cites the reason for almost every single stupid thing the boys have done to excuse their actions. “If you’re ready, then we can go to Seungcheol’s together?”

You scan up and down the locker before you grab the Christmas bag at the bottom of it. You shut it afterward and say, “Yeah, I’m ready.”

When entering Seungcheol’s house, you’re careful with where you stand and with whom. You’re certain there can’t be any mistletoe above the door frame, but you never know, so you make sure that Jeonghan walks ahead of you. There’s a breath of relief you’ve never felt before until you saw there was no green bouquet taped to the wall of the front door.

Just when you think it couldn’t get more festive, there’s more baubles and ornaments on the Christmas tree, a strip of hanging lights around the mantle, and is that even more tinsel?!

“Your mom has outdone herself, as she always does,” you muse as Seungcheol brings out bowls of snacks and sets them on the living room table.

He’s still dressed in his Santa costume, somewhat, as his jacket and thick belt rest on one of the chairs. “Do you expect anything less from her?”

You pluck a piece of popcorn from the bowl and shake your head with a chuckle. “Where’s everyone else?” You ask, your eyes peering at the backpacks surrounding the coffee table. You place yours near theirs, but the gift bag stays with you.

“Changing back into their costumes because Jeonghan told Seungkwan that he wanted to take a picture and everyone already came here changed out of them.”

Classic.

One by one, the boys come back to their usual spots, adorned in the very same costumes as they wore on stage with small modifications here and there to look less dressed up.

When Joshua comes back to sit on the floor near you, you call his name. When his head turns toward you, you can’t help but tap the end of his nose. “Your nose is still so red.”

“Really?” He scrunches his face as he pulls out his phone to view his reflection in the camera app. “Fuck, I tried using Cheol’s face soap too.” He groans and shakes his head. Glancing down at the bag you’ve placed in your lap, Joshua purses his lips. “Who’s it for?”

“Tell you as soon as you tell me, Hong.” You point your chin to the box near him. “Who’s the lucky person with your gift this year?” There’s no malice in your voice.

“Someone you know well.” He chuckles at the gears turning in your head, rendering you more confused.

Now that everyone settles into their seats, Jeonghan says you all should take a picture before the gifts are revealed, and insists further when the sounds of grumbles fill his ears.

The group shuffles into positions, and you slide down to sit next to Joshua, which may have been the wrong decision because he leans over to attempt to peer into the bag.

“What the hell, Joshua,” you mutter. “I knew someone was going to try to do that so I put way too much tissue paper in here.” You press the top shut, sticking your tongue out at Joshua before it’s time to pose for the picture.

Jeonghan takes charge of the running back and forth for the timer, something everyone is beyond used to by now.

Vernon’s the first to say something when the dust of picture-taking settles. “Are we gonna start or what?” Everyone places their gifts on the coffee table, sizing up what could be theirs.

Seungcheol and Vernon go head to head with rock paper scissors. (A game that’s actually fair since the last time they tried to settle things with an arm wrestle, Vernon yelped so loud.) Vernon wins best 2 out of 3, so he searches for the tag that’s his.

“Sweet,” Vernon talks to himself as he opens the box and finds a beanie and a chain resting on top of a hoodie. “Can I guess…” He surveys his options. “Mingyu?” The guy shakes his head. “Wonwoo?”

“Yep, I got you.” Vernon walks over to give his gift giver an appreciative hug.

Seungkwan’s turn is a blur because you know you’re up next after him. All you know is that Mingyu gave him a Starbucks giftcard and a new equipment bag for his upcoming volleyball season.

“It’s (Y/N)’s turn,” Seungcheol sing-songs with a bit of a naughty grin. Your stomach drops a little bit, and then even more as you realize the very gift meant for you is the gift Joshua was holding.

Your very wish had come true.

“You really got me, Joshua?” You look to him before you pick up the gift and he nods with a smile that you usually don’t see when it comes to you. It’s in beautiful wrapping paper, just like last time. You wonder if his mom’s the one who wrapped it this time and the time three years ago because knowing that Joshua absolutely sucks at knitting does not give you the most hope.

To prevent this time around from being a repeat, you rip the paper, even though you would have loved to repurpose it in some way, shape, or form. It’s a box, similar to the one that Vernon had from Wonwoo, and you remove the top.

Your hands fly to your chest as soon as your eyes took in the sight. Pictures upon pictures pasted on top of each other, all forming to create a heart. The words on top make out the words “You’re the best, (Y/N)” and now your own heart is in your throat.

You scan the poster, recalling the memories that come with the pictures. There’s one off-guard photo that you never even knew existed from when you and Joshua actually spent time alone together and you didn’t explode somehow. It was a biting winter day just like this one and you threw freshly-fallen snow into the air, smiling as the snowflakes drifted wherever the wind took it. You’ve never seen such a natural smile and yet, here it is in this very picture.

“There’s some other things underneath the collage,” Joshua says, his voice coming out gentler than you expected.

Keychains for the people who have already committed to their colleges—Vernon’s heading to NYU, Cheol and Jeonghan are both going to Berkeley, and Wonwoo’s going to UC Irvine. (So many smart boys you’ve got in the group.) There’s one more, a keychain for Pledis Entertainment.

“It’s to remind yourself of me,” Joshua explains. “I’m not going to college yet. Or ever, depending on how this whole idol thing goes.” 

“You’ll do so good, Joshua,” you whisper because that’s as loud as you can get without your tears overflowing. You continue to move on with the gift, finding a pair of the cutest frog plush slippers, an apple pie candle, and a slip promising you that he’ll make you cold cider before the season ends.

Lastly, a sealed envelope rests at the bottom of the box and Joshua implores you not to open it in front of everyone and just wait until you’re by yourself. “Just wait until you’re home.”

The other boys ooo-and-ahh, especially Seungkwan who wants to know why. “Secret feelings maybe?”

Cheol snorts and says, “Maybe a copy of his perfect grades.”

You smile at Joshua before putting everything back into the box and placing the top back. “Thank you, Joshua.” 

The group continues with Mingyu, but your mind is still stuck on Joshua. This whole time, you’ve been shitting on him and he created you such a beautiful ensemble of presents. There’s not necessarily a pang of guilt, but more so a pang of “I’ve always seen Joshua as an academic rival, but why am I so committed to the bit?” and your eyebrows furrow at the thought.

You try to connect back as it’s now Wonwoo’s turn, but you can’t fully tune back in until it’s Joshua’s turn.

“How did we manage to have each other?” Joshua muses, concluding that the bag in your lap was for him.

He pulls out the tissue paper, commenting that you definitely put too much in here, but he finds the last piece and places it down. 

Your heart beats faster, and you can’t tell if it’s from seeing his hands dip into the gift bag, or the way his hair parts, or the sheer anxiety that you didn’t pick the right presents especially knowing he gave you amazing ones.

Regardless, nothing beats the way his smile grows wider than when he pulls out your gifts in a line. 

“Wow, this is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” he says about a rabbit polaroid picture holder. 

“This is your favorite, isn’t it?” He asks about a book you gifted him after you reading it in class piqued his interest.

“I love this scarf!” He exclaims, the colorful fabric pulling apart as far as his wingspan will allow.

Despite only giving three things, Joshua pulls you into a hug, resting his chin on your shoulder as his hands rub up and down your arms.

When he lets go, you kind of wonder how it would have been to stay in the hug longer but your brain doesn’t stray for too long when Joshua thanks you profusely for the gifts. “These are all so thoughtful, thank you (Y/N).”

“You’re welcome, I’m glad you like them.” 

If only you could see the shock on everyone else’s faces as they watched this scene unfold, but even after Jeonghan and Seungcheol unwrap their gifts, the question bearing on your mind still bothers you.

“How did everyone else manage to get someone different, but Joshua and I got each other?” You ask, pointing to the two of you. While Vernon’s clasping his chain on and Seungkwan’s pressing his new tangerine pin next to the other three he has on his backpack, Seungcheol and Jeonghan try not to make eye contact. Mingyu and Wonwoo suddenly increase in volume.

“Hey! For real,” Joshua agrees with your question. “There’s no way this happened by chance.”

Everyone stops what they’re doing and all of a sudden, it’s so easy to make eye contact because the 6 of them look toward each other for an answer to produce.

“It was his idea,” both Seungcheol and Jeonghan say at the same time. Your mouth opens and closes, trying to find the words to say, but there are none.

“I mean, okay, it may have been my idea,” Jeonghan admits, scratching the back of his ear. “We all just kind of wanted to see you guys be nice to each other for once, instead of at each other’s throats for the rest of the year.”

Vernon adds, “Yeah, you're probably going to kill each other for the top 2 rankings, but you're friends before you guys are classmates.” He grips Joshua’s shoulder. “And dude, I know you don’t really feel that way about (Y/N). You’re only rude when you’re around her.”

“We know how you truly feel about (Y/N). You li—” Seungkwan’s eyebrows wiggle and Joshua physically lungs at him, pressing his hand to his mouth. With Vernon in the middle trying to lean back so he doesn’t get weighed down by Joshua’s body, it looks like a weird family photo.

After a moment, Joshua straightens himself and takes a deep breath in and out. His composure doesn’t dismiss the fact that his face is redder than the remaining face paint on his nose.

Mingyu jumps out of his seat, pulling on Wonwoo’s arm. “Ah, I have a phone call to take! Wonwoo has to come too.”

“I didn’t hear your ringtone go off.” Wonwoo narrows his eyes, but allows himself to be dragged away into Seungcheol’s kitchen across the house.

“Cheol, I’m hungry, do you have food?” Vernon perks up, looking at his friend. “Seungkwan’s hungry too.”

“There’s chips right there?” Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, but sighs. “Fuck it, come on. Jeonghan, I know you’re hungry too.” He herds the rest of them into the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone.

You’re dumbfounded with the way you’re just left with these feelings that swirl around your head. “Did you know?”

“About this?” Joshua points to the gifts. “Not at all. But now that I think about it, I probably should have guessed.” He laughs and there’s a relieved look on his face when your stone face relaxes.

“Thank you for the gifts again.” You say to fill the space of silence. “Kinda sad you’re not staying here.”

“There’s still one more semester left. You can’t get rid of me just yet.” Joshua shifts to sit directly across from you. “Even though they arranged it to be this way, I’m glad I got to be your Secret Santa.”

You smile, looking down at your hands. “So what was Seungkwan talking about when he was talking about feelings?” You watch the pads of your fingers dance with one another as you wait for his response.

“Well, yeah, it’’s true that I don’t hate you. I don’t hate anyone, but well, I can’t tell if you hate me or not.”

Your face falls, finally feeling that pang of guilt. “I think I just got so caught up with being the best that I never really considered how you felt. I…” your voice trails off. “I don’t hate you, Joshua.” Your voice gets quieter and quieter. “It’s kind of the opposite, I think.”

“What?”

You groan, finally looking at him in the eye. “This is going to sound so stupid, but I think my feelings took the wheel and I was rude to you to mask how I felt about you.”

“What kind of feelings are we talking?” Joshua cocks his head, being careful with the moves he puts forward.

“Ugh, I don’t want to say it, but I like you?” Your statement comes out more as a question, but the confirmation is rock solid.

Joshua runs his hand through the locks of his hair as he tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I’ve liked you since the moment I met you, (Y/N). Freshman year, biology class.”

“No way.” You laugh in disbelief but your tone gets more serious as you continue, “You let me speak to you like that even though you liked me?” Your palm flies to your forehead, fingers clutching your hair. 

“It was kinda fun. Teasing you and all that.” Joshua chuckles. “But yeah, I’ve liked you since then and I thought maybe I could say something about it before senior year ends. That’s what’s in the envelope.”

All of a sudden, scurrying footsteps tiptoe on the floor of the living room and the only thing you see is Seungcheol violently tossing something green and running away immediately after.

It lands in Joshua’s lap. It’s a green bouquet, wrapped in a red ribbon. “Mistletoe, good one, Cheol,” Joshua yells in the direction of the kitchen with no response. “Well, if we have mistletoe, we can’t disappoint.” He shrugs as he holds the end of the mistletoe above your heads.

“I guess not,” you reply with a grin before licking your bottom lip, taking one good look at him, and at last, pressing your lips to his. 

(You know the saying, keep your friends close and your rivals closer? Thanks to this Christmas miracle, you finally believe it.)

please feel free to provide feedback, reblogs, or likes if you enjoyed reading this fic!

#2022svtgiftexchange #k-labels #joshua hong x reader #joshua hong svt #hong jisoo x reader #hong jisoo svt #joshua hong fluff #joshua hong fanfic #joshua svt #joshua x reader #joshua seventeen #seventeen #svt #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #joshua x y/n #seventeen x y/n

[livingemkayde]

Twin Moons - Chapter Five: The Silence

Series Summary: 

when you meet a Mandalorian on the sands of Tatooine, for some reason you both can't stay away. even through all the pain—you keep coming back to each other. it's all you know how to do.

Chapter Five: The Silence

Notes: Someone please tell me how this chapter is almost six thousand fucking words long. I got so carried away. If you guys like longer chapters, let me know but I think I'm going to start making them longer anyways. Notes are HIGHLY appreciated. As always, please enjoy. 

Side note: Idk if you guys picked up on this, but the reader has very light pupils, almost completely white eyes aside from some shading in irises–it is touched on more in this chapter. 

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive f!reader

Series warnings: *Although this chapter may not contain graphic content, this story is rated 18+ due to graphic depictions of violence and sexual scenarios.*

Chapter warnings: Mentions of the empire, the dark side, and the force, angst. Brief mentions of abuse and Stockholm syndrome. Mutual pining and very strong feelings from the reader. Mando having a potty mouth. Hints at sexual scenes/thoughts. Jealousy and reader’s self hatred. 

Summary: He’s officially going to drive you crazy. The Mandalorian in front of you is going to drive you insane. He might kill you. You could die by a thousand touches and suggestive words with hidden meanings. 

Masterlist Chapter Four Chapter Three

One. 

You work with Grogu more the following afternoon. When you exit the Mandalorians hut after nap time has begun, you look for him on the small porch but instead see his shining head across the way with Omera. 

You scowl to yourself, and quickly brush it off as you make your way over. Your eyes feel slightly puffy from the tears shed through the night. You had not gotten much sleep. Winta’s innocent words crept into the back of your mind each time you closed your eyes. She questioned her people’s safety from you. A child, not unlike the one you were working with—asking if you would ever hurt her. The thought feels like it stabs your heart. 

You’re sad. Honestly. Like really fucking sad. About everything. About leaving him and his kid in a couple days. About Davin. About Omera. About everything. It burns through your chest with a certain bite that leaves you feeling empty. You don’t know why. Or why you’re scared to approach them. Or why you feel such a strong connection to a man you just met. 

“Hey, uh—” you say as you approach the pair. Omera laughs at something the Mandalorian says and her hand brushes his bicep again. At your entrance, her hand drops and the couple goes silent. “Sorry I hope I'm not interrupting. Grogu is down for a nap. Just wanted to let you know.” 

You exit quickly, only hearing a small ‘thank you’ from the Mandalorian as you walk away towards the woods. 

The Mandalorians gaze sears into the back of your head as you exit.  

You continue exploring through the small pathway—ducking under some branches and slipping through bushes to a clearing. In the middle, a large tree with a wide trunk. You circle the tree a few times before looking down towards the ground. The sunlight is shining on the top of your head. You can feel the heat of it warming your hair. 

While you look to the ground, absentmindedly counting your steps and noting the small flowers there, you pick up a fallen branch, long and sturdy enough to be a weapon, maybe a staff—a spear. 

You hold the branch in your hands. Test the weight of it in your palms and twirl it through your hands and around your body. Maybe in another life it could’ve been kyber. 

You begin hitting the tree, simulating some form of combat. You were restless after so much time on this boring planet. It was the most time you had ever spent in one place in years. 

As you spin to hit the trunk higher, much like smashing the head of an opponent, you hear a twig snap behind you. You suddenly find it hard to breathe. 

“Mandalorian.” You huff while continuing your silly practice, not looking back to meet his gaze. You shouldn’t be mad at him. But you are, unexplainably. 

Din notices you are elegant with your strikes. You move in a way he has never seen before, much less experienced in combat. Even in the cantina, you bested him with your quick skills and surprising strength. 

You hear him walk toward you, but for some reason, your body fails to turn. 

“Saki.” 

You turn at the nickname, it feels foreign on his lips. 

You are slightly breathless, from the combat practice or your name echoing through modulation, you do not know. His voice trails through the small clearing and it makes your ears ring. 

“What are you doing?” He asks when you don't respond. 

“I'm bored. This place is…boring. I don't want to take care of kids all day and farm krill.” You smack the branch against the tree trunk once more. You remember last night, Omera, Winta and her words that cut your skin like daggers. 

The branch snaps in half. 

You toss the two halves to the ground and fully turn to face him. He's standing a couple feet away. 

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere else?” You reply—passive-aggressive tones in your voice. Last night hurt. Seeing him with Omera hurt. The fact that he didn’t follow you hurt. 

Not that he owes you anything. You were becoming attached to someone who was obviously unavailable—it was all in your head. 

But the way he listened to your stories, taking in all the information that makes you, you. You couldn’t help but fall, even if he wasn’t there to catch you. But that’s not his problem—it's yours. 

A few moments pass, you note his hand twitching like he's contemplating his words carefully. The orange tips of his pointer and thumb scrape past each other in their wake. 

“Alright. C’mon. Let's go.” He turns on his heels and begins to walk away from you. 

“What? I–hey wait up.” You call after him as you follow his figure. 

_ 

“Ready? On ‘go’ okay? Three–” you get into your stance, “–two–” you hold your palms out, ready to strike first, “–one–” you grab his wrist, twisting his arm and striking at the crease of his elbow. 

You snake your ankle around his and pull your leg back, so he stumbles and kneels on the ground before you. 

“I said on ‘go.’” He grunts while sliding to grab the back of your thigh and shoulder to flip you and bring you down to the ground. You slip out of the trap easily, scrambling to stand and begin to engage in hand to hand combat with him. 

“I know. Just–” you strike the side of his stomach with your foot and he grunts “–making sure you were ready.” 

You elbow his collar and he grunts again. “You weren't.” You chuckle quietly. 

It's easy–fun even. Something to stimulate your brain. Something entertaining for you, he had said. You appreciate his efforts, he explains he used to spar with other Mandalorians when he was a child. You know he can understand your restlessness on this planet. 

He showed you to a small field near the village and explained he and Grogu spent time out here when you weren’t preparing him. The grass in this area was soft. It was unlike the hard soil of the forest, and the dirt ridden roads near the huts. 

His hands tangle with yours. You can feel him everywhere. Your hips, your waist, back, shoulders. You are using small amounts of strength—sparring strength, but you relish the feeling of his hands on your body. 

“You're a cheater.” He grunts as you block his strike. 

“Didn't know you cared much about rules.” You spin and switch positions with him, moving throughout the open field near the village, sun looking down on you. 

You giggle through the innocent game—each time his move fails and he becomes more frustrated. 

You go to kick his side again as he opens his stance to strike, but he predicts your movements, grabs you by the crease of your knee and hauls you to the ground. He straddles your hips with his thighs. Mimicking his actions when you first arrived at Sorgan. 

You settle on the ground below him, looking up at the sky. You can see the trees peeking into your upside down vision. You fill your chest with air and release it slowly, savoring this moment. The sky is a shade of blue unfamiliar to your worn eyes. The Mandalorian sitting in the middle of the expanse, looking like a painting. He is art. His armor is beautiful. A true show of craftsmanship. You wonder who forged it for him.

“You like this position huh.” You tease with breathless laughter––having given up on the sparring. 

“Maybe I do. You're prettier when you're not smashing plates on my head.” 

Your eyes widen. 

“What?” You ask. 

“The cantina. Remember?” He notes. 

“Yeah. I remember. What you said before that.” 

“What, that I like this position? Don't get too cocky. I just like it when you can't hurt me.” He teases with a light tone. 

“You called me pretty.” You say, meeting his eyes. 

“Did I? Don't recall…do you yield?” 

“Don't try to change the subject. You called me pretty.” 

“I didn't.” 

“You just did.” 

“No. I didn't.” 

“It's okay.” You can't help a smile that comes to your face. “If you think I'm pretty it's okay.” 

“Why do you want me to think you're pretty?” 

“I just want you to admit you said it.” 

“So you want me to think you're pretty.” 

“No, I just want you to admit that it happened.” 

A few moments pass. You feel a sudden tension between you. Maybe you had taken your joking too far. You worry in this position, that he might actually hurt you. Your breaths become slightly erratic, but you try to steady them—bringing air in through your nose. 

“Maybe it did.” Your eyebrows furrow at his words. “Happen.” He clarifies. “Then what?” He says softer this time. You can tell the playful intentions of this stupid conversation have gone. 

You can’t bring yourself to respond. Is he calling you pretty? Or is he just admitting that it happened? The Mandalorian is running laps around your head and you feel dizzy from his incessant games you can’t bring yourself to stop playing. You think back to Omera. The way they stood together during dinner. His hands on her body. It was silly. If you really think about it. Silly that he would feel the same way when you’ve only known each other a few days—after you tried to kill him—after everything you’ve done. 

But you feel like you have known him forever. And you would choose to—given the chance. 

When you say nothing but look up towards the sky, his hand moves from resting on his thigh to your bicep. Your eyes shoot back to the black T in front of you. Your lips part and although your eyebrows haven’t unfurrowed, they soften slightly. All your features do. 

He acts before you can speak. Trailing his hand down your arm, to your open palm on the ground. When he reaches your fingers, he turns your hand in his, and snakes his fingers through yours. 

You watch the whole time, the feeling strange in your palms, your gloves abandoned in the hut with Grogu. 

He runs his thumb over the back of your hand, the both of you staring at your joined limbs, silence surrounding you. Even though you are separated by his glove, you feel his warmth spread like fire throughout your body. He holds your hand with some strength, enough to make you feel secure without forcing your joints. 

Although your mind should be racing—racing with thoughts about a certain beautiful widow, a sleeping green child, and the Mandalorian in front of you. You can only stare back, entranced by his actions. 

You feel his other arm moving, his hand coming to rest on your hip bone, his thumb rubbing softly at the exposed flesh there. You close your eyes at the feeling. 

“Look at me.” He says, you open your eyes. 

Suddenly, the feeling has changed in the air between you. 

“Is this okay?” He asks. 

Even though you aren't sure what he means by this you nod your head anyways. 

He runs his fingers higher up your stomach, gloved hand pushing back fabric as you shiver under his touch. 

“I–” you start, but a small ring pulls you both out of your trance. The Mandalorian suddenly drops your hand, pushes himself off you and turns to look toward the sound. 

The dinner bell. 

Fuck.

_

Two.  

When you finish with Grogu the following day, you decide to rest on the ground next to his pram. You’re tired from working with him. You should be practicing your meditation since you are reaching out to him through the force for long periods of time—but you don’t. 

You settle on the ground next to his bassinet, back pressed against the side of the Mandalorians bed.

The preparations have been progressing, Grogu is doing well. You peer over your shoulder towards the sleeping child and sigh. He should be ready with one more session tomorrow. He has to be ready—you’re leaving. 

The Mandalorian doesn’t inquire much about Grogu’s preparations anymore, you hope it’s a sign of trust, of good faith. But then again, he doesn’t have much choice. 

When you finally begin to shut your eyes, your head slouching to the side, the curtains open and let in the sunset from outside. A tall figure stands as a shadow in the doorframe. The Mandalorian. 

“Hi.” You say while opening your eyes slightly with a smile. 

“Bedtime? For both of you?” He asks while chuckling slightly and walking into the room, letting the curtains shut behind him. 

“Mhm.” You say lazily while squinting one eye and letting your head fall to the other side. 

“Come on, rest on the bed.” He stands in front of you now, your eyes open at his request and you look up at him. 

“No, no it's okay. I’ll just go back to my hut.” You say while standing slowly. 

“C’mon, just stay here. You’re already falling asleep.” He pushes a fallen piece of hair out of your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek bone. Your bruises had been healing slowly, but you still had some cuts on your face from Davin’s rings. You can feel the Mandalorians fingers tracing over the scabs on your cheek. 

Your eyes widen—you want to cry. But you don’t fight him, or push him away.

When you stand motionless, while looking into his visor, he places his hands on your hips and begins to turn your body while leading you to the bed with gentle pushes on your lower back. 

You abandon your plan of returning to your hut, but you’re so aware of his hands on your body, you no longer feel tired.

“Okay.” You say plainly, and settle on his bed on top of his blanket. You lay on your back, one hand resting on your stomach, the one closer to him laid flat on the bed. 

He turns to leave you—maybe it’s your sudden boldness from yesterday in the field, or the lingering feeling of his hands on your waist, but you speak without thinking. 

“Will you stay?” You ask, and he freezes in his stride. He pauses for a few seconds, you’re afraid he’ll reject you, or leave without saying anything. But he turns his head to the side, to indicate he heard you. 

“You want me to tuck you in?” He turns, and you swear you can hear a smirk drift across his face. He stalks back towards your figure on his bed. 

“You’d like that. I’m just bored.” 

“I thought you were tired.” 

“Someone’s shiny head woke me up.” 

He sits on the bed next to your body. His back is to you, but he turns his head so he can look down at your face. You scoot over some, to make room for his figure but he remains sitting on the side of the bed. 

You close your eyes, satisfied with his presence, but you can feel him shifting beside you. 

“Lay down.” You say softly, while opening your eyes to his visor, scooting over more to make room for his large figure. 

He says nothing but swings his legs and begins to lay beside you. His bed is large, big enough that you can lay side by side without touching, a few inches of space between you. 

“I don’t think I've ever seen you sleep.” You note while staring up at the ceiling. 

“I don't much. Probably a habit from traveling so much.” He replies beside you. 

“You should sleep more.” 

“You should too.”

You chuckle. 

You want to bring up the field, Omera, his touches, but you don’t—leaving it unsaid in the air between you. 

“Can you tell me about your creed?” 

Din freezes. He didn’t know people were interested in his creed besides when asking why he can’t take the helmet off.  

“I knew a Mandalorian. But he showed his face.” You continue when he doesn’t respond. He notes how you inquire curiously, but never question his faith.

“The Mandalorians saved me from a droid attack on my home planet. I was a foundling. Raised in the fighting corps. The creed means I can never show my face to another living being. This is The Way.” 

You stare at the ceiling, taking in all the information. You have never heard of this creed—even after studying with the jedi on Coruscant. 

“No one? For your whole life?” 

“This is The Way.” He repeats the strange words once again in response. 

“Not even your kid?” You ask, referencing Grogu. 

“He is a foundling. If I were to adopt him, or raise a child—I would be able to show my face to my family.”

“Family. Like….your wife?”

“If I were to take a wife I would be able to show her my face, yes.” 

“Mm.” You note, without much to follow. You hesitate in your questioning—unsure of his comfort answering questions regarding his creed. 

“Have you ever wanted to?” 

“Wanted to do what? Show my face?” He asks. 

You respond simply with a small “Yeah.” 

You feel his helmet look toward you, and you can’t help but bring your head to meet his. Looking for his eyes behind the small visor in front of you. You feel his hand moving beside you, his pinky finger reaching out to brush against yours. It disappears just as quickly, and your breath hitches in your chest. 

“Yes.” 

He’s officially going to drive you crazy. The Mandalorian in front of you is going to drive you insane. He might kill you. You could die by a thousand touches and suggestive words with hidden meanings. You turn to look away from him, a blush creeping up your neck. 

“How many planets have you been to?” You ask, trying to change the subject after your words fail you to continue the conversation. 

“More than I can count.” He says with a sigh. 

“What’s your favorite one?” You respond curiously. 

“I don’t really have one.” He says. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. What’s yours?” 

“I like it here. But I liked Endor too.” 

“You like green.” He notes. And you nod, smiling.

“I don’t see many nice planets.” He continues. “I work bounties out of Nevarro.” 

“Nevarro? I’ve been there.” 

You remember the lava flats and molten ground you walked on. You blush when you realize the two of you might have crossed paths more than you know. Your head turns to him again. 

“I can tell you that Tatooine is my least favorite one.” He says while meeting your gaze, you lock eyes. You smile at his words. The last time both of you were on Tatooine, you were about to kill him. 

“I don’t like sand.” You note. 

“I don’t either.” He says softly. 

“Hurts my eyes.” You say while turning your head to look back at the ceiling. A few moments pass. 

“You can ask.” You say while chuckling. 

“What happened?” His helmet is still turned towards your face. 

“Punishment from Davin. I was supposed to bring back someone alive–I came back with their head in my hands.” You close your eyes. 

“He dropped me off on some planet that had toxic chemicals in the air. It bleached my pupils–that’s why they're white. Bright things hurt my eyes. And shiny things.” You say playfully, while elbowing his arm, trying to lighten the mood. You don’t think it worked when he remains looking at you, motionless. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers. 

“It’s not your fault.” You reply, although you aren’t sure if he’s apologizing for your punishment or his armor. You look back at him, the two of you gazing at each other. 

You feel his arm moving beside you. He grabs your hand, intertwines your fingers, and lays them to rest between your bodies. His thumb rubs your hand again, mimicking his actions yesterday. You smile as you look down to your hands and back up to his visor. You find his eyes immediately–and even though you can’t see him, Din smiles back. 

Din sees the gray of his beskar washing over your eyes once again. You’re beautiful. Funny, smart, witty. When your eyes meet his, he feels like maybe you match him perfectly. Maybe when he asks you to stay with him, you’ll listen. But then again, maybe he doesn’t belong with anyone. He definitely doesn’t belong here. 

You wonder if you’re meeting his gaze beneath the mask. What his hair looks like. The color of his skin, the curve of his cheek. His eyebrows. Does he have facial hair? Is he even human under the helmet? 

A breeze pushes the curtains back and some sunlight spears through the hut, hitting your eyes. It hurts, but you don’t move. You wonder what he thinks of your eyes, maybe if they were normal you could see him better. Maybe if they had color they would absorb his gray and not reflect it. 

What color are his?

You don’t talk after that. You don’t think about Omera once. 

You don’t know how long you stay frozen under his gaze—your eyes drift closed as the sun sets behind the curtains. 

_

Three. 

When you wake up in the Mandalorians hut, your eyes shift from sleepy and half shut to wide and alert. You lay next to him. Your form curled to his side while he lay on his back. He has one arm under your neck, his vambraces removed and set on the ground. One of your hands rest on his chest plate.

You stare at the side of his helmet, with wide eyes. His chest rises and falls gently with soft snores from under his helmet. Fuck. 

You remember last night. Sinking into the mattress beside him. Rolling over in your sleep and knocking into his side, his arm lifting up and coming to wrap around your body. His thumb and the way it rubbed the small patch of skin peaking out from under the hem of your top. Kriff. This is bad. This is getting too complicated. His small Yes was seared into the back of your mind, and you can’t help but think he might’ve actually been talking about you. 

You stare at the side of his helmet once more. He could be awake, you wonder. He could be holding you because he means it, or he could be sleeping and none the wiser to his actions. You close your eyes and your heart beats more erratically through your chest. You worry its pounding would be strong enough to wake him. 

You need to leave. 

You remove your hand from his chest plate and carefully sit up, trying not to move the bed too much. You slink out of his arms and out of the bed. The kid sleeps soundly in the pram at the head of it.

You step out of the hut and the morning dew hits your face. The sun is rising over the trees, you guess it's early in the morning. You note which direction your ship is for your travel out of the village later today. 

You move towards the dining hut, your stomach growling from having skipped dinner after working with Grogu in the evening. Your cheeks flush as you remember the Mandalorians hands wrapping around your waist, touching your cheek. 

You open the curtains to the dining area, your heart drops as you see a figure with their back turned towards the entrance, preparing some food for breakfast. 

Omera. 

“Oh. Hi.” You say dumbly. 

“Saki. Hello.” She turns to greet you with a smile. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in. I skipped dinner last night.” 

“It’s no problem. There’s some fruits and bread over here to hold you over until breakfast.” She points with the wooden spoon in her hand to the table across from her. 

“Thank you.” You slink over to the table, trying not to meet her eye. When you steal a glance at her, she is looking back at you. Your cheeks heat and you quickly drop her gaze and place your attention to the food in front of you. 

“How is Grogu doing?” She asks innocently. “He’s doing well. Progressing well. He won’t need me soon.” You reply, picking the best smelling fruits in front of you before you make your exit. 

“That’s good to hear.” She replies plainly with a sharp smile on her face. “And Mando?” She adds. 

“Um, good. They’re both good.” You reply—scared of her intentions regarding asking about the Mandalorian. 

“You two have grown close these past few days.” She doesn’t meet your gaze. 

“Yeah, the kid is special.” 

“I wasn’t talking about the kid.” She stops mixing, her hands resting on the table in front of her, looking at you with knowing eyes and a small smile. 

“What?” You almost drop the fruits in your hand. 

“Mando.” She replies simply. Although you note how she doesn’t look mad, you can’t bring yourself to meet her eye. Suddenly, all the touches and words feel dirty in your mind. You saw them together. How they looked at each other—and yet, you didn’t stop him through all his actions. You chastise yourself. How could any of that be real when this woman stands beautiful in front of you?

“Omera. I—I'm sorry.” You don’t really know what else to say. 

“For what?” She asks. First you think she’s being facetious—knowing she has bested you in this stupid game for his heart. But when you look to meet her eye, you spot genuine curiosity. 

“F-for the Mandalorian. For…” When her eyebrows furrow and her head tilts to the side, your features shift to confusion. “—You guys are like…together right?” 

“Me and Mando?” She asks with a small laugh. “I thought—” 

But a sound breaks the two of you out of your strange gaze and shifts your bodies to turn towards the entrance of the hut. For some reason, you know who it is before your eyes dawn upon a black T and beskar. 

“There you are. Hey—uh.” He shifts when he sees you talking to the widow before you. 

Fuck. 

He wasn’t even talking to you. You spend the night in his bed, his arms, his hut, next to his kid. And he’s not even looking at you. 

Right. 

How could you have been so stupid? So naive? You feel like everything is moving in slow motion, but yet, time flies by without you. 

“The kids need you. They woke me up looking for you.” He's still talking to Omera. 

“Oh. Okay. Give me one second.” She pulls the apron off her front, bundles it up and sets it on the table that separates the two of you.

When she moves past the Mandalorian towards the kids, they don’t share a glance. Weird. You note. 

Silence enters the hut and the Mandalorian surprisingly doesn’t follow after her. You finish grabbing your fruits and a piece of bread and walk towards him. Hoping he will leave it at that and let you go back to your hut. 

“You left early this morning.” He says and his voice tears you out of your train of thought. 

“Yeah.” You reply dumbly.

“I was looking for you. Then the kids…they—” You cut him off.

“Yeah. It's okay.” You can’t help but feel lied to. Like he’s making up some lame excuse for when he came in here looking specifically for her. When tears spark at the back of your eyes and your throat suddenly feels tight, you fight his gaze and move to exit quickly. You won't let him see you cry. 

“I’ll see you in a bit for Grogu.” You continue when he stands staring like a statue. 

He says nothing after that. 

_ 

You know you’re being childish. But you also know you will be off this planet by sundown. 

This is all some stupid game he keeps playing with you. The teasing, the touches. It’s like he wants you in private but plays a role in some superficial life in public. He doesn’t fit in here. You don't fit in here. It's apparent enough. He can play pretend with the girl next door all he wants, but you both know the truth.

As you work with Gorgu, the Mandalorian doesn’t wait outside. He leaves when you arrive. It feels like a slap in the face—especially since you’re leaving tonight. Leaving Sorgan on bad terms makes your stomach twist. You’ll probably never see him again. 

He made you feel worth something in those small fleeting moments in his hut or the field. Even if it might’ve left you less whole than when you arrived, more broken, more confused—he made you feel good. 

Grogu and you have been growing close. At least that was something. You can see that he has a strong attachment to the Mandalorian and in the back of your head, you worry. After all this, Luke could reject him, but you doubt it. He’s desperate for a school and this kid looks too much like Yoda for him to say no. 

You finalize your preparations, tell Gorgu that he needs to reach out to someone named Luke when the Mandalorian takes him to the seeing stone. 

You sneak into your pack and pull out some fresh berries you snuck from the dining hut this morning with Omera. You offer them to him and he takes them with a smile. Seeing the kid happy makes your heart full. After all, this wasn’t some trip to get you laid, you truly believed he would bring balance to the force. 

Grogu does a couple flips with berries still in his hands despite your protests, and on a particularly precarious looking tumble, you catch him in your hands. He looks up to you, babbling, and then proceeds to vomit all over the front of your shirt. 

Great. 

_ 

The Mandalorian comes in when you were trying to clean up Grogu’s mess. 

“What happened?” He moves fast towards you to inspect your shirt, then down to the kid who is none the wiser. 

“Nothing–I–sorry. I gave him some berries. He was like jumping and stuff and then he just…” you motion to the front of your shirt. The vomit had remained untouched since you were trying to clean the front of Grogu’s robes first. 

“Take that off. Here.” He digs through the baskets near the walls and extends a faded black shirt to you. Your eyes widen. 

“No. I’m just gonna go back and change. It’s fine.” You shake your head and step back slightly. Too much. Too complicated. Too domestic. But your hands want to reach out and accept the clothing. It probably smells like him. Your heart flutters at the thought. 

“And what? Put your kit on? C’mon just change.” 

Kriff. He was right. 

“I–okay. Thanks.” You murmur under your breath and take the shirt from his hand. 

He picks Grogu up and turns, letting you change. Considerate–you note–despite his wandering hands days prior. 

His shirt falls over your frame and when you slide it over your head, his scent pushes through your nose. Woodsy. Gun powder. Something synthetic, maybe gun oil or armor polish. It flutters through you and makes your heart beat ten times faster. 

“Okay.” You say when the shirt falls past your hips, hitting the middle of your thighs—you feel the hem as you roll it through your fingers. He turns at the indication you’re done changing. 

He stares at you. You can feel his gaze. He holds Gorgu in his right arm, places him in his pram, and shuts the doors. He takes a step toward you, experimentally. When you don’t react, another. And then another. 

“He’ll be done soon.” You snap out of your trance. You remember this morning. Omera. His excuses.

“What?” 

“Grogu. He’s doing good. You can take him to the seeing stone soon.” You gesture towards the pram. 

“He’ll be done soon.” He echoes your previous statement. 

“Yes.” you whisper. 

He tilts his head slowly, coming closer to you. You don’t even recall when he got so close. 

“Is that what you want?” His hand hovers over your hip, but not touching you yet. 

“I–I want what’s best for—” His actions cut your words. His hand gripping your waist tightly. He rubs your skin through his shirt tenderly and tugs on it a little. 

“You want what’s best for who?” He prods. Teasing you. He massages you more, bringing you closer to him, his hand around your back, beginning to move slowly, dangerously, down your body. 

“I–I w–want…” You stutter, but his hands barely brush over the curve of your ass and you lose your train of thought. Your hands move to his chestplate softly, your feeble attempts to stop this before you couldn’t anymore. 

“C’mon. Tell me.” 

You look up, unable to make words come out of your throat, settling for a quiet whimper that drives Din insane. He knows what he’s doing to you. It’s a game to him, you realize. Making you so flustered you can’t even string together a sentence. He knows his effect. 

“You want me to stop?” He continues when you say nothing but whimper. 

“N-no. I–” 

“No? Then what? Keep going, use your words.” His tone cuts deep to your belly. He pushes his hand up your back and flanks your sides, his hand brushing against your breast, pushing over the swell of it, his thumb barely touching your nipple through his shirt. Maybe this is the part where the helmet comes off, and he’s beautiful, and you fall in love. But maybe this is also reality. And you can't bring yourself to indulge in someone you know you will never be able to let go of. 

“I–I–fuck–I can’t.” You step back, silently whining from his hand’s release on your body. “I–” you try to explain. To say anything. But you malfunction like a droid. His touch is permanently burned into you. Silence passes between you as he steps back. 

“You can’t.” He confirms—like he didn’t hear you right. His head hangs and then looks back at you. You take another step back. This is it—saying no to him, his advances—this settles it. 

“I-I’m sorry.” 

_ 

You leave the hut with tears streaming down your face. The silence deafening between you two for longer than you can count. You left the Mandalorian, giving him a half assed response, something about how you needed to get some rest. You don’t really remember much after his touch left your body. It hurts your heart, the thought that maybe he does want you. Maybe you’re worth something—but even more so that you have to leave. 

You pack up quickly, the sun setting on the horizon. You have overstayed your welcome. Davin would be after you soon. You needed to go back to him before he got off world. You leave your hut and make way to your ship near town. 

Settling in the finality of it, you look up to the pink sky. 

You thought you weren’t going back to Davin, but after all this, there was nowhere else to go. You knew what was waiting for you on Coruscant and even though you weren’t sure if you were ready to face it, you knew hiding forever was not in your future.

Not again.

_ 

Chapter Six: The Stage

Taglist: Let me know if you want to be added!!

@iammissdoddydoodagrimes @dinwifey @n7cje

#din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x oc #din djarin x reader #mandalorian x f!reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x oc #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #the mandaloria/reader #din djarin fan fiction #din djarin #mando #din x reader #din djarin x original female character #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian x you #the mandalorion spoilers #din djarin smut #the mines of mandalore #grogu djarin #grogu #din djarin one shot #din grogu #din darjin #din x you #din x oc #din x omera #din dijarin fanfiction #clan of two

[simplegenius042]

The Repost on Fallout Casting for Megumi Fushiguccicakes for Jujutsu Kaisen Abridged react fic

"I like gigantic, heaving sophistication. Sopping wet tenderness! And a big! Fat!! Gaping sense of compassion!!!" - Megumi Fushiguro, Episode 5 JJK Abridged (by The Schmuck Squad).

As stated in the first Megumi Fushiguro casting poll post here, the cast options will only include the characters who were in the tie. It is up to you to break this tie once and for all by voting for one of the Fallout characters below:

Reasons To Why I Believe These Characters Should Be Casted listed below the cut:

Alph Dolen (my Fallout 3 Lone Wanderer OC, faceclaim Sam Blackensee) -> He's got daddy issues.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy/"Cass" (a caravan owner from Fallout New Vegas before the Van Graffs and the Crimson Caravan worked together to destroy it, Cass drunk her sorrows away at an NCR Mojave outpost, until Ryder showed up to get her contract, though managed to barter her way into getting Cass to give up her caravan name but ensuring she still gets the opportunity to start again. Impressed, Cass journeys with Ryder to New Vegas to find Benny, and Ryder helps her find justice and learn to live. Has a heart condition inherited by her father, John Cassidy) -> Cass has a father who abandoned her, like Toji did to Megumi, and her sarcasm bites.

Danse (from Fallout 4, a loyal Paladin in Maxson's chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel, helps Nate get onboard the Prydwen and meet Maxson, a capable ally who warms up to Nate, despite his xenophobic beliefs, has a crisis after finding out his entire life has been a lie when discovering he was a synth the whole time and the group who gave him purpose have turned their back on him. Nate though doesn't give up on him and gets him out of the BoS without being killed, and gives him a place amongst the Minutemen, which Danse was greatly appreciative and grateful for. It's a long journey, but he is letting go of the hatred he had towards others and himself) -> Danse's sarcasm would probably be confusing. Also man understands the importance of BROtherhood, coming from the Brotherhood of Steel. Spends more time getting stronger to avenge his teammates than looking to get hitched.

Miria (from Fallout 2, Finidy's wife after both were caught in the act by Miria's father, Grisham, causing a shotgun wedding, and throughout their journey together they become closer and Miria becomes a rather cool fighter, unlike in canon but the mods are impressive) -> Perhaps the least "Megumi" like person here, but she would call someone out for being stupid probably (she's had to deal with Davin after all).

I've also created and will continue to update (until the first set of cast polling is done) a Master List for the poll results of the casted winners. You can find it right here.

You can find my Fallout OC profiles Master List right here, which also includes a link to the original post where I pitched my react fic idea. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this, chow!

#fallout #jujutsu kaisen abridged #casting #polls #react fic #megumi fushiguro #fallout 3 #the lone wanderer #oc: alph dolen #fc: sam blanckensee #fallout new vegas #rose of sharon cassidy #fallout 4 #fo4 danse #fallout 2 #fo2 miria #please once and for all set straight this tie #options are limited this time so hopefully it's easy for you all

[apinchofm]

Never in My Wildest Dreams by ElleannaQ (@little-engineer-who-cant)

She met him when she was breathing too quickly, blinking back hot tears from her eyes, hands shaking and her hitching sobs barely stifled so as not to make a scene when she slipped out. She met him in the midst of beautiful trellises, painstakingly cultivated vines and prizewinning blooms and the first thing she thought towards his not-at-all defined figure was get away from me.

Or

Edwina wants a quiet season and secrets herself off in shaded corners and empty gardens to do so. Pity for her peace of mind that many of those corners are already occupied.

loving this fic so far!! we have a broody, post war marquess, davin reynolds, whose sister is the newest diamond and edwina stumbles across him also hiding in the gardens. it's a wonderful friendship struck up by two people fed up with the ton. also the author has edwina spot on!! love this, have a read!!

#moodboards are one of my love languages #fic rec monday #gift edit #bridgerton #bridgerton fic #historical romance #edwina sharma #edwina sharma x oc #fic rec