Pedro Pascal being the 2021 tumblr top celeb 😌😌

Tumblr’s 2021 Year in Review: Pedro Pascal named #1 Celeb

Here For You

Joel Miller x fem!reader x Frankie Morales

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: smut (18+ ONLY!), oral (f & m receiving), unprotected sex, threesome, pussy eating contest, multiple orgasms, soft Joel and Frankie, Triple Frontier au but Last of Us canon compliant, Joel/reader established relationship, no use of y/n

Notes: This is dedicated to @middimidoris​ who gave me this idea forever ago and I finally finished it! I loved this idea so much too and I had a lot of fun writing it so I hope y’all enjoy this! Feel free to also follow my update blog and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post @flightlessangelwings-updates​ 

~

Calm nights like this were rare in this world, but you and Joel savored them whenever you could. It was exceptionally special when you had the guys over and you spent time with them. The day that Will and Benny showed up in Jackson was a pleasant surprise since Joel hadn’t seen his cousins in many years. And they had their friends Santiago and Frankie with them, whom  you all immediately accepted into your community and your family. 

Joel looked relaxed and at peace as he played a game of cards with the guys. Laughter filled the room as they all sipped on drinks that you had gotten from a group of travelers that passed through a week ago. You sat in Joel’s lap and played with his hair as you acted as his good luck charm while he concentrated on the cards in his hands. It was nice to see everyone so calm and relaxed, and it made your heart swell in your chest.

It beat especially fast whenever you caught the eye of Frankie Morales. He was quieter than the rest of the group, but you found yourself immediately drawn to him. Soft eyes, a sharp nose, and a kind smile made your breath hitch in your throat every time. You were happily married to Joel, and you would never do anything to hurt or betray him, but you found that you fantasized about what it would be like to be with both men.

Of course, Joel noticed the change in your demeanor from the start, and the two of you ended up having a long conversation about your feelings. During that talk, Joel surprised you with a proposition and you both decided that tonight would be the night that you brought the offer up to Frankie.

“Royal flush,” Joel set his cards down with pride as he beamed at you and placed a soft kiss on your cheek, “Thanks to my good luck charm.”

You giggled softly as his beard tickled your skin and you kissed your husband back as the rest of the guys groaned in defeat. It wasn’t long after that they all shuffled away for the night and one by one they all left yours and Joel’s home after receiving hugs from both of you. But, there was one person who lingered.

After you bid the Miller brothers and Santi goodbye, you went into the kitchen with the intention of cleaning up a bit when you found Frankie had beaten you to it, “Frankie?”! You explained softly, “You don’t have to do that,” you insisted as you crossed the room and stood next to him.

“It’s no problem,” he spoke in his soft tone as he looked over at you, “I don’t mind helping since you took care of us all night.”

You swallowed hard as you gently took a glass out of his hand. It almost felt like a spark when your fingers brushed against his. His eyes met yours for a brief moment and you swore you felt a jolt of electricity between you both. You glanced over your shoulder and saw that Joel leaned against the doorway as he watched you with a soft smile. The two of you shared a knowing look and Joel nodded to you before you turned your attention back to Frankie.

“Hey Frankie,” you started after a deep breath, “Listen, Joel and I were talking and… We couldn’t help but notice you seem kinda sad. How long has it been since you got laid?”

Frankie’s eyes went wide as all the air left his lungs and he almost dropped the dish he held, “W-what…?” he stuttered as he looked over at Joel with a questioning look in his eyes. Clearly, this was the last thing he expected you to say, and as much as Frankie was attracted to you, he never wanted to overstep his boundaries or disrespect either you or Joel at all. 

“It’s alright,” Joel reassured him as he stepped into the room, “We talked it over. I trust you with my wife.”

You grinned at Joel before you turned your gaze back to Frankie, “I promise it’s ok, Frankie,” you reached out and held his forearm, “You can talk to us. And…” you suddenly felt more shy, “You can join us if you want.”

Frankie’s mind raced a mile a minute. You weren’t wrong in your observation that it had been some time since he got laid. Truthfully, for a while it was the last thing on his mind. But since he and the guys came to Jackson, life felt a little more normal and the fantasy of being with both you and Joel slowly seeped into his mind.

But, Frankie was a giver through and through, and the words spilled form his lips before his mind caught up to him, “Actually,” he spoke softly, “More than anything I’ve been dying to eat pussy again.”

His confession took both you and Joel by surprise, but you both quickly broke into bright smiles as you closed in on Frankie on either side. You caressed Frankie’s arm as you felt Joel’s hand over yours. Heat rose in your body, and you felt a fire radiate from both men on your hand.

“Well now that’s something Joel is very proficient in,” you cooed with a sly smile on your face, “Maybe we can have a little friendly challenge?”

“Whatever you want baby,” Joel’s voice rumbled against you and Frankie as his tone dropped, “I’m up for it.”

Frankie swallowed hard as he felt both yours and Joel’s breath against his skin. But instead of feeling nervous, Frankie felt emboldened with the two of you on either side of him, “Bring it on,” he replied with a smirk of his own.

You glanced between him and Joel as you slid your hands into theirs and led them up the stairs. The dishes sat in the sink completely forgotten as you felt a rush of anticipation and need through your veins. The moment you all got to the top of the stairs, you turned around and you kissed Joel first. He moaned into your mouth as he immediately wrapped his arms around you and deepened the kiss. Frankie watched with a burning gaze as you tangled tongues with your husband before you broke away and grabbed a fistful of his shirt.

Before he could react, Frankie felt your lips crash against his and you moaned against his mouth. He stood frozen for a moment before he remembered you and Joel were both ok with this and he finally let himself relax into the kiss. Frankie rested his hands on your hips as you parted your lips for him and he groaned when he tasted a mix of you and Joel on your tongue. Joel mumbled soft encouragement as he caressed both you and Frankie.

“Who do you want first, baby?’ Joel asked as he tugged at your shirt.

You let him pull it off and placed a soft kiss on his lips before you turned to Frankie, “I want Frankie first.”

Frankie’s heart pounded in his chest as you gently pushed him back into your and Joel’s shared bedroom while you both yanked his shirt up. He let you both strip him as you all shuffled into the room. Once you crossed the threshold, however, both men turned their attention to you as they showered you with soft kisses while they pulled and tugged at the rest of your clothes.

Once you were completely naked for them, Frankie audibly gasped, “Wow…”

Joel couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips, “She’s beautiful ain’t she?” he purred against your face.

“So beautiful,” Frankie echoed as his eyes soaked in the sight of you before him.

“You know, you ain’t so bad yourself,” Joel commented with a playful tone in his voice, which suddenly flustered Frankie again.

“You are beautiful, Frankie,” you agreed as you ran your hands up and down his torso and closed the gap between your bodies in another heated kiss.

“On the bed, baby,” Joel reminded you of their little competition as he gave your ass a squeeze.

You laughed softly into Frankie’s mouth before you turned back to Joel, “You’re overdressed,” you commented as you unbuttoned his shirt.

Joel let you strip him of his shirt before he stopped you, “Later, baby,” he groaned as he guided you toward the bed, “First, we gotta take care of you.”

The three of you shuffled onto the bed with you in the middle of the two men. You laid on your back and Joel positioned himself behind you. Frankie settled awkwardly between your parted legs and his breath hitched in his throat as he got a glimpse of your pussy for the first time. You were absolutely exquisite, and he could tell how wet you were already.

“You wanna taste me, Frankie?” you breathed as you rested yourself on Joel’s lap.

“I do, baby,” Frankie answered right away, but he was hypnotized by your body. His eyes looked glazed over as he licked his lips and leaned down over you. But, before he even touched you, he paused and looked back up into your eyes, “You sure you’re ok with this?”

Your chest rose and fell with your heavy breaths, “I’m sure,” you whispered and you felt Joel squeeze your shoulders in reassurance, “Please, Frankie.”

That was all he needed and Frankie dipped his head down and dove into your cunt. You arched your back and cried out in pleasure as you felt his tongue all along your folds and if it wasn’t for Joel’s strong grip of you, you were sure you would have flown off the bed.

“I got you, baby,” Joel murmured as he held you tightly. His cock strained in his pants as he watched the way Frankie devoured you and how you moaned in sure bliss.

Frankie was talented with his tongue for sure, and he ran it up and down your pussy in deliberate motions before he took your clit into his mouth. You screamed as he sucked hard on all the sensitive spots of your cunt and you dug your fingers into Joel’s skin as a way to ground yourself. Curses flowed from your lips as Frankie rolled his tongue along your body.

When his tongue hit your clit at just the right angle, you screamed even louder, and both men knew you were close. Joel watched with an intense gaze as he studied every little expression you made while Frankie continued to lick and suck at your pussy. Joel clenched his jaw as he felt more turned on than he expected; there was something about watching you fall apart that went right to Joel’s cock.

“Frankie… I’m…” you couldn’t even finish your warning before you came with a loud scream. Your entire body shook as you fell apart on his tongue, and Frankie didn’t let up until he had pulled every ounce of orgasm from your body.

When he finally broke away, you flopped down onto the bed, and immediately you felt two pairs of hands on you. They gently caressed your body and placed soft kisses wherever  they could reach as you came down from your first high of the night. Frankie kissed along your inner thigh as he made his way up your body while Joel kissed your neck and shoulder and squeezed your breasts softly. 

“Fuck,” you breathed as you opened your eyes.

“Was that good, baby?” Joel asked with a mischievous hint to his tone.

You laughed as you pushed yourself up to sit and cupped Frankie’s jaw, “Very,” you closed the gap between your faces and kissed him deeply. Frankie swallowed your moan when you tasted yourself on him. You shivered when Joel kissed his way along your spine and his beard tickled your skin.

When you broke away from Frankie, you turned back to your husband and kissed him just as deeply, “Your turn.”

“Yes ma’am,” Joel groaned against you as he reluctantly got up off the bed and away from your body.

You all couldn’t help the soft laughter as the two men changed positions. It was awkward and silly, but still hot and fun. And as they both stood, you noticed how rock hard they both were, which only turned you on more. Frankie positioned himself behind you where Joel once sat while your husband dropped to his knees before you. You sat yourself more upright as you leaned back into Frankie’s chest and you sighed contently when he wrapped his arms around you.

Joel started slowly and placed feather-light kisses up the length of your leg. You let out a soft moan as you dropped your head in the crook of Frankie’s neck. He immediately leaned in and kissed the exposed skin there while he fondled your breasts. The action only made you moan louder, and both men got more emboldened the more you cried out.

Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt Joel’s beard against your cunt. His thick facial hair always added to the sensations whenever he ate your pussy, but today it was heightened even more from how sensitive you were after having come once already. Without any words needed, Joel was aware of your over sensitivity and he started very gently.

He darted his tongue out and softly licked his way up your folds. You mewled and writhed as he teased you with his tongue, and you held onto Frankie for dear life as Joel slowly picked up his pace.

“Please,” you begged, unsure of what exactly you begged for.

A low grumble of laughter rolled from Joel’s chest as he gave into your plea. He wrapped his arms around your thighs and engulfed your cunt with his mouth. A loud moan from deep within you echoed throughout the room as Joel licked and sucked at your sensitive pussy. Frankie peppered kisses all along your skin while Joel continued his attack on your pussy with his tongue.

Between how soft and careful they both were with you and how talented both men were with their tongues, you felt an ecstasy unlike anything you ever experienced before. Emotions ran high as you surrendered yourself to both Joel and Frankie and your moans and cries quickly hit a high pitch. Joel slurped loudly as he flicked his tongue against your clit and he knew from how you moaned that you wouldn't last much longer.

Joel tightened his grip on your thighs as he licked and sucked at your clit even harder. He was determined that you would cum harder on his tongue than Frankie’s and he loved it whenever you soaked his beard with your release. It didn’t take much longer until Joel got his wish and you trembled around him as you came with another loud scream. Frankie held you tight as you rode out your climax on Joel’s tongue while he greedily lapped up everything you offered him.

When your moans turned into whimpering, Joel released you and he took a moment and licked up every drop of your juices from his beard. Heavy breaths from all three of you filled the room and Frankie watched you and Joel in total awe. You kept your eyes closed as you enjoyed the tender affections from both men as they lightly stroked your body. But, as you slumped back against Frankie again, you were reminded that while you came twice, neither of them had any attention paid to them.

“Hey,” you whispered as you opened your eyes and sat up with a groan, “What about you guys?” you gestured to the obvious bulges in both their pants. While you had been stripped completely nude, Frankie and Joel never had the chance to take off their pants since they were too preoccupied with pleasuring you.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Frankie insisted, “This was already so great.”

You looked over your shoulder at him with pleading eyes before you turned back to Joel and gave him the same expression, “Please. I want you both to fuck me.” When both men sighed, you grinned and knew they were putty in your hands.

“Alright baby,” Joel stroked your thighs, “How do you want us?”

“Since you’re there, Joel I want you to fuck me and Frankie I want you in my mouth.”

The two men shared a look before they stood and slid their pants off their bodies in a lighting fast rush. You laughed as they suddenly seemed more than eager to be inside you, and you felt yourself clench at the thought of being filled by both of them. Joel and Frankie wordlessly guided you onto your back as they positioned themselves on either side of you.

“If it gets too much, baby,” Joel ran his hand up and down your legs as he hiked you up and lined his cock up at your entrance, “Say the word and we stop.”

Frankie cupped your chin and tilted your head to face him and nodded in agreement. The sincere look in his soft brown eyes made you melt and you swallowed hard as you nodded. Without another word, you parted your lips for him and a gasp escaped you as Joel slowly pushed into you. Frankie stayed still for several moments as he watched as Joel entered you inch by inch.

It wasn’t until you pulled him closer to your face that Frankie finally remembered about himself and he held his cock in his hand as he guided it into your mouth. You darted your tongue out and wrapped your lips around the tip. Joel let out a groan when he felt you clench around him and Frankie gasped as you ran your tongue along his length. Your moan was muffled as Frankie rocked his hips against your face and carefully slid into your mouth.

Your warmth engulfed both men and they groaned softly as they both thrust in and out of you in tandem. It didn’t take them long to find their rhythm and they were both just as mesmerized at how well you took them both. Frankie’s eyes moved from his cock in your mouth to Joel’s in your pussy before his gaze trailed up Joel’s body and met his eyes. His mouth dropped open as he lost himself in the moment as heat rose in the room.

With all the buildup and anticipation, it didn’t take long for all three of you to feel your climaxes approach. Your moans were muffled by Frankie’s cock, but he could tell from the pitch that you were close again, and he caressed your breasts as he rocked into your faster.

“That’s it baby,” Joel groaned as he felt his own release quickly build up within him.

In a miraculous feat, all three of you hit your orgasms one right behind the other. You were too lost in your emotions and feelings to even know who came first, but you moaned against Frankie’s cock as you felt your body let go in a third powerful orgasm while both men filled you with their releases. Moans and groans from Joel and Frankie filled the room as they leaned forward and rested their foreheads against each other while they rode out their own climaxes in your body.

But just as they started to come down from their highs, cries and whimpers from you brought both Joel and Frankie back quicker and they immediately turned their attention to you.

“Hey, it’s ok honey,” Frankie cooed as he carefully pulled out of your mouth and leaned over and held your head in his hands. He wiped away the tears that fell while Joel pulled out from your now sore pussy as carefully as he could.

“We’re here for you, baby,” Joel placed a hand on your stomach while the other held onto your hip. Both men showered you with kisses as they pulled you up to sit and sandwiched you between their bodies.

Your sobs continued as you felt so wonderfully overstimulated. But, you slowly calmed down as you felt the love and affection from both of them and soon your cries turned into slow, deep breaths. You had never felt safer than right now, between your husband, Joel, and your best friend turned lover, Frankie. The two men made sure you were taken care of as they whispered praises in your ear about how beautiful you were and how well you did for them. It was a moment of pure bliss that you wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.

“You alright?” You weren’t even sure who it was that whispered that. Perhaps it was both of them.

You took another deep breath before you opened your eyes and you wanted to cry all over again from the looks of pure adoration and concern on both Joel and Frankie’s faces. “I’m ok,” when they didn’t look convinced you repeated yourself in a stronger voice, “I’m ok now.”

Looks of relief came across both their faces and Joel leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your lips while Frankie kissed the top of your shoulder and wrapped his arms around you, “Good,” they both breathed.

“That was amazing,” you sounded tired as you yawned and shifted yourself so that you laid down, “Just… wow…” you mumbled with a silly grin on your face.

Joel guided you and laid down next to you while he pulled you in close to his body. Frankie stayed upright and just watched as the two of you settled in your bed. With one last kiss on the top of your head, Frankie rolled over and stood up before he looked around for his clothes from the pile on the floor.

“What are you doing, Frankie?” Joel asked.

“I was just gonna…”

Joel cut off his thought, “I just shared my wife with you. I'm alright sharing my bed with you too man,” he patted the empty space on the other side of you where Frankie once laid, “Stay.”

Frankie looked at Joel with those big brown eyes for a moment before he decided to take him up on his offer. As he watched Joel hold you, Frankie noticed that you had already fallen asleep and he was careful and quiet as he slid back into bed. Joel and Frankie nestled themselves on either side of you as they both held you close and safe in their arms. Frankie even rested his hand over Joel’s arm as he held onto him as well as you.

Just as they were about to fall asleep themselves, a thought popped into Joel’s head, “We never heard who the winner was,” he commented playfully which made Frankie laugh, “Guess we’ll have to have a rematch then if she’s up for it,” Joel suggested with a gleam in his eye.

“I’m up for it if you are, old man,” Frankie retorted with a smile.

Joel rolled his eyes playfully as he gave Frankie’s hand a soft squeeze, “Very funny,” the two men shared a laugh as you slept soundly between them, “Why don’t you get some sleep now?”

Frankie nodded as he rested his hand on the pillow right next to you. It didn’t take long for sleep to claim him as well and within minutes Frankie joined you in dreamland. Joel stayed awake for some time and watched over the both of you as he savored the moment of peace. He leaned over and placed a final kiss on your temple before he brushed a lock of hair out of Frankie’s eyes in a tender show of affection before he finally let himself rest as well. 

PEDRO PASCAL EW Entertainer Of The Year 2020

Pedro Pascal and Lena Headey for Hunger TV, 2014.

so true of him

Credit to: @mandeanlorian on twitter

Came across this one again yesterday. Pedro and the cheerleading squad. 😁❤️

Make My Wish Come True (i) [plus size fem reader x actor!Marcus Pike]

summary: You’re a NYT bestselling author with a consulting gig on a movie adaptation of your most recent book series. In a truly unbelievable Christmas rom-com-style turn of events, production begins just after Thanksgiving, leaving you on set through the holidays with the lead actor you’ve had a huge crush on for years, Marcus Pike. He’s the sweetest guy in the business—so why does it feel like he’s avoiding you?

rating: T [for now, will eventually move into E; warnings: extremely self-indulgent i'm so sorry, weight issues, food talk, MISCOMMUNICATION bc i know people hate that shit but if you've read anything of mine you know i love it, a little angst, alternate universe]

pairing: actor!Marcus Pike x writer!plus size!fem reader

word count: ~6.6k

note: Hello all! This is a re-work of an early fic of mine, Truly Madly Deeply, which is not my best work but I loved the concept, so I wanted to rework it into something I could be more proud of. You can read the original on Ao3, if you're so inclined. An aside: this fic is heavily Christmas-focused, coming from my culturally Christian upbringing (as in, I've never been super religious, but always celebrated Christmas in that kind of secular, I-like-pretty-lights way). I totally get if that is not your cup of tea. In no way do I think that Christmas is the only holiday during this time of year, and I've tried to be sensitive to that as we get further into the fic. Big thanks to @starlightmornings for the beta, and to @mothandpidgeon for putting up with my mini-meltdown this morning over this piece. Also, I know very little about the film industry, so like, roll with it ok pls ty I've done research but I am also dumb.

masterlist | series masterlist | next | read on Ao3

November 26th.

You wanted to get that date framed, or painted, or something. It was the first day of production on a movie based on a book you wrote. A best-selling book you wrote. The first book in the best-selling series you wrote. And for the next six weeks—not including the week of Christmas—your only job was to hang out on set and answer questions.

You should have been much more excited than you were.

Not that you weren’t absolutely thrilled to have this happen, but you were in Los Angeles for the first time in your life, and it was very different from your Southern home state. For instance, you had yet to see anyone who looked anything like you in the areas you’d ventured. Everyone was very thin, dressed in very expensive clothes, with perfect makeup and perfect accessories. Everyone you encountered had just stepped out of a magazine.

And then there was you. Despite your recent success, you preferred a laid back look consisting of Torrid and Old Navy—or any store you could find plus size clothing that didn’t make you look like a frumpy old lady.

It wasn’t like they made couture in your size, after all.

If you ignored the sideways glances and judgmental eye rolls, it wasn’t so bad. The film executives and public relations folks and anyone trying to woo you were perfectly friendly.

You’d given up most of your life to pursue your love of writing, and couldn’t believe it had finally come to this. And so, because of that, you choked down that old fear of being perceived and moved forward, allowing yourself to be positively giddy when the studio sent a sleek black SUV to pick you up from the two-bedroom rental they’d provided.

You’d done meticulous research on the entire cast, giving your input on who you’d imagined while writing. You knew it was unlikely that you’d get Yara Shahidi or Ryan Reynolds, but you’d given your blessing to an up-and-coming young actress named Stormy Palmer and, by some wild stroke of luck, Marcus Pike. Famous for more artsy roles, you knew he’d be perfect as the moody but sweet Alexander.

You’d had a ridiculous crush on the man since he guest-starred on one of your favorite TV shows. The closer you got to meeting him, the more you wished you’d never heard of him at all. It wouldn’t do to have a crush on a man you’d be working with. You tried to get over it, but your mouth still went dry at the thought of him.

December was Stormy’s first major on-screen role. Her manager emailed you the week before you got into town, requesting a meeting. You’d clicked immediately, and the two of you ended up hanging out most of the last five days.

“I haven’t had much time to read in the last few years,” she’d admitted sheepishly, as though you’d expected her to read your books.

“Of course not, hon, you’ve been busy. I understand. I rarely have time to read myself,” you assured her. Your lack of judgment warmed her to you.

She picked your brain about her character and you picked hers about acting and living in L.A. It was nice to have a friend out here. An introverted Southern girl, you were out of your element. Everyone was friendly in an intimidating, busy way, and you had a hard time recognizing if people were genuine.

Stormy, to your delight, seemed to be of the genuine variety.

Today you’d meet the rest of the cast and crew, and filming would start next week. Most of the casting process and screenwriting adaptation happened without you, but you were grateful for it. You weren’t a screenwriter or a casting director, and they changed nothing too drastic, so far. If you were honest with yourself, you didn’t know what you were doing here. You were just grateful for the experience.

The black SUV pulled up to the curb on the busy LA street in front of your hotel at an ungodly hour.

“Good morning, miss,” the driver said as he got out of the car and opened the door for you. You stared for a moment as you got your bearings. Not that you’d never had a car service before, but he was so formal. You weren’t used to people waiting for you. “Do you need help with your bags?”

“No, thank you,” you said, clutching your ratty blue backpack. You’d meant to buy a new bag before you came out here, but couldn’t seem to let this one go. It had been there for you through college and through all three books. “I’m fine.”

He nodded and stood back so you could climb in, the scent of leather filling your nose. It took forty-five minutes to get to the studio lot. You’d discovered, to your horror, driving anywhere in L.A. took forever. Not that you were driving. You didn’t have a car here, and you didn’t plan on getting one. You took Uber when you didn’t have a driver, or had things delivered.

You didn’t enjoy driving in your little hometown, and you had no plans to attempt it here. You were at the mercy of strangers for the next six weeks, and you were still getting used to it.

The enjoyable part about not driving yourself was taking in the surroundings. The city was amid decorating for Christmas, stringing colorful lights on the palms and setting up sixteen-foot Christmas trees on the sidewalks.

Even at this early hour, people were up and about, all of them looking like they had somewhere to be. You slumped down in your seat.

“Would you like to stop for coffee, miss?” Your driver asked. You perked up.

“Starbucks?”

“You got it.”

You introduced yourself.

“I’m Steve,” he said. He was an older guy around your father’s age.

“It’s nice to meet you, Steve,” you said. He seemed momentarily put off, and you wondered if you’d committed some West Coast faux pas.

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” he said. “You’re very polite. Not a lot of people I drive who introduce themselves.”

You frowned.

“Well, that’s not very nice.”

He smiled at you in the rear-view mirror.

“No, miss, I don’t suppose it is.”

You arrived at a studio lot with a venti peppermint mocha. Steve told you to have a good day and that he’d see you tomorrow morning, and dropped you off with a production assistant. You were in your thirties, had a master’s degree, several published books, and a movie being made of one; yet standing there with your hands gripping the straps of your backpack, you felt very much like a kid being dropped off for a field trip.

No one told you much of anything about how it would work, other than profuse promises that you be “taken care of,” and you assumed you’d get a table to sit at when they didn’t need you. To your pleasant surprise, the production assistant, who introduced herself as Maeve, showed you to your own trailer. Maybe you wouldn’t need those noise-cancelling headphones after all.

On the way to your trailer, she explained how unusual it was to shoot during the holidays.

“That makes sense,” you said. “Do you know why they decided on now?”

“Thought you might know,” she grinned. “I heard the director wanted to use the atmosphere. Thought it would come off more authentic. It’s actually kind of great. I thought I’d be completely waiting tables this year through December, but then I landed this gig.”

“Is it usually like that?” You asked, interested in every bit.

“It’s my first year,” she said, “but the other P.A.s said it’s usually a nightmare trying to square your finances away for the end of the year. Here we are!”

“This is great,” you said, following her into the little trailer.

“They said you needed the quiet to write.”

You nodded happily and set your backpack down on a small brown couch bolted into the wall. A mini-fridge sat to your right with a microwave on top of it. Two bolted-in brown leather chairs sat directly across from you. A vanity with a lighted mirror was in the corner with enough counter space for you to use it as a desk. You even had a tiny private bathroom with a shower. The cabinets and counters were a bit dated, and you suspected Marcus Pike and Jessica King had better lodgings, but you weren’t going to say a word about it. You were just happy to be invited.

“It’s perfect,” you breathed. She broke into a wide smile, relief flooding her face like she’d been waiting for a complaint.

After telling you there was a breakfast planned for nine a.m. and that she’d be back for you, she left you there to settle in. You opened your laptop, intent on doing some outline, but you couldn’t concentrate. Instead, you Googled the cast again for the fiftieth time. And by the cast, you meant Marcus Pike.

He just seemed so kind, like he enjoyed drawing people out of their shells. You could use a little energy like that.

You slammed your laptop closed when someone banged on your door. It was only seven-thirty.

“Come in!”

“Hey, neighbor!” Stormy said, in full makeup and costume, and you gasped. She was perfect. Exactly as you’d always imagined.

“Wardrobe test!”

“Oh, my God. You look unbelievable! It’s like she’s right here,” you said.

Stormy beamed. You knew better than to hug her and ruin her perfectly placed costume, so you just stared at her with tears in your eyes. Seeing your baby come to life was amazing.

She scanned the room, “This is much nicer than mine.”

Your mouth fell open as you tried to parse whether she was serious.

“I—do you want to see if we can switch? I really don’t need—really thought I’d be getting a table in the back of the soundstage—” you babbled.

Stormy grinned. “No, silly. I’m just playing with you. I’m in the other suite. We’re literally next-door neighbors. I’ve got the same dated cherry wood.”

“Don’t scare me like that,” you scolded.

“I’m sorry, girl! You know I was kidding, right?” Stormy said, giving you a hug. “Okay, I gotta go. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“Sounds good,” you said.

“And make sure you keep your phone locked, hon. We all Google each other, but you don’t want him to see it,” she said with a sly grin.

You gaped at her again, realizing you’d had IMDb up your phone. Marcus’s smiling face peered up at you. Curse your habit of looking up things on the phone and the laptop simultaneously.

She winked and left, her perfectly done ponytail whipping through the door, leaving you cringing at your own awkwardness.

Everyone was there. Actors, studio executives, writers, the director, the producers. Everyone had bright teeth and luminous skin and everyone was so thin.

And then there you were, with no idea what to do other than try to blend into the wall. Three people had mistaken you for some kind of assistant or another until you flashed your little “Creator” badge. They all seemed unimpressed, but left you alone.

There was a massive spread of food on the conference table in front of you. You’d long since finished your coffee and your stomach begged for mercy. But no one else was eating, and you certainly would not be the fat girl who eats first. Absolutely not. In fact, as you looked around at the other occupants of the room, you didn’t know if you were going to eat any of this at all.

Or anything ever again.

Ugh.

You leaned against a wall as a woman started talking—a producer, maybe—trying to make yourself as small as you could, hoping to go unnoticed and anonymous.

Predictably, you had no such luck.

The producer called out your name, and you blanched when every head in the room whipped in your direction like a hydra with rows and rows of bleached teeth. Your meek wave did not pacify her, and you panicked as she asked you to come up to the front.

You were in high school again, walking that slow death march to the front to solve the math equation on the board. You tried to summon your courage, recalling the many speaking engagements and book signings and conferences you’d attended in the past.

But it was different there. You were welcome at those events. People were there for you.

Here? No one knew who you were, and no one cared. To most of them, you were an intruder, and it wouldn’t bother you so much if you didn’t have to talk to so many of them. Stormy, to her credit, stood at the front and clapped. Marcus Pike stood next to her, a polite but preoccupied smile plastered on his face. Indifferent, even. Everyone was busy, and you were taking up all their time. You’d never been more self-conscious.

And, of course, Marcus was even more beautiful in person. Gorgeous in a way that made it hard to look directly at him, but impossible to look away. A sharp, strong nose and chiseled jaw; huge brown eyes that sparkled like little stars, deep constellations pulling you to him. Plump, pink lips with a dip in the middle of his bottom lip you imagined, for a moment, pressing your thumb into. His white t-shirt hugged his broad shoulders, and you wondered how anyone could make something so simple look so good.

So you looked at Stormy instead, rather than embarrass yourself by drooling.

The producer explained your role and your eyes darted around the room, still smiling, your least favorite nervous habit. If people thought you were nice, it’d make them warm up to you. It worked in the South. This tactic, unfortunately, did not appear to work in L.A.

A few people whispered back and forth. Marcus looked at his watch, and you wanted to melt into the ground. The producer finished her spiel and asked you to say a few words.

God, why?

“I—I’m not much of a speaker,” you lied, desperate to end this. “But I’m really excited to be here. I’ll try my best to stay out of everyone’s way...and be as useful as possible. I’m really looking forward to working with everyone.”

You made accidental eye contact with Marcus, and he smiled. He smiled. Warmth bloomed in your chest and you smiled back, softer this time—a genuine smile. Stormy clapped enthusiastically, and you broke into a grin.

There was a polite smattering of applause, and you went back to your spot on the wall, relieved it was over. The breakfast spread went untouched, and you resolved to eat the granola bar in your backpack when you returned to your trailer.

Maeve came up to you as everyone cleared the room. She showed you a clipboard with your schedule. It was full of back-to-back meetings—one with the full cast and crew at noon, and then with the screenwriters for the rest of the evening for a final review. Tomorrow, you had one-on-one consultations with the actors about their characters. Then you’d leave for the weekend and come back on Monday.

It already seemed like too much.

Scanning the page, the blood drained from your face as you saw a one-on-one with Marcus Pike at five-thirty P.M the next day. If you were honest with yourself, you had no idea actors did one-on-one meetings. You figured they had handlers or producers—someone around to rein them in.

“Do I have time to go back to my dressing room? I need to grab my bag.”

Maeve took pity on you and walked you back to your trailer. Thank God, because you’d completely lost your bearings and were not looking forward to trying to find your way back.

“Is this the first movie you’ve consulted on?” Maeve asked as the two of you walked through the busy set.

You nodded. “This is the first book in my series. There might be more later, but I guess I just didn’t realize it was so involved?”

“It’s usually not,” she conceded. “I think you got lucky.”

“Is...is there something I should do differently? It felt weird in there,” you asked, hoping she could pick up your meaning.

“Actors are like that,” she shrugged. “Everyone’s busy, and sometimes they’re shooting two different things at once. And…” She trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

“What is it?”

“Well, from what the other P.A.s have said, a lot of the time when an author is on set, it’s kind of a vanity thing. They’re allegedly consulting, but really it’s just to be an extra in a scene and it takes up a bunch of time because none of them know how to be on camera. I know that’s not why you’re here!” She added quickly, seeing the horrified look on your face.

“I just wanted to help,” you said. Maeve gave you a big smile full of straight, white teeth. Everyone in this town is beautiful, you thought, even the production assistants.

“They’ll warm up to you once they see you’re here to work and not get in the way. You have that charming little accent. I doubt it’ll take long,” she assured you as you reached your door. Your heart felt a little fuller from her kindness, but your stomach rumbled in protest. Maeve laughed.

“Look, let me go get you a plate. No one eats in this town, but you shouldn’t have to suffer because of it,” she said.

“I’d really appreciate it. I was going to eat this protein bar that I’m pretty sure has been in my backpack since college.”

Maeve took your hands in hers and looked at you sincerely, “I’m here for whatever you need.”

She was off, moving in that fast-paced way that everyone around here seemed to do. You flopped down onto the couch, looking around and twisting your lips in thought.

It was hard to concentrate on anything, knowing you’d have to consult with people much more famous than yourself, and act like you knew anything about acting. They had to see through that. Stormy had technically been consulting with you all week, but you were happy to see her name on the schedule, regardless. You’d need a friendly face after meeting with half a dozen people before.

You took a deep breath and told yourself it couldn’t be all that bad, but you knew it would be. You knew they didn’t actually have to listen to a word you said, but you were possessive of your characters. They were your babies. You’d given up everything for them. Lovers had left you because you “cared too much” about your writing.

Maeve came back with a plate of French toast and smoked bacon, a small cup of fruit, and a bottle of water. It looked amazing. When did you eat last?

“Do you want to stay and eat with me?” You asked. Eating alone always bummed you out, and you were happy to share. Maeve lifted her eyebrows in surprise. Her reaction reminded you of Steve’s, and it made you sad to think that neither of them was used to being treated like people.

“Oh! I would really like to, but I have to bring some fabric to wardrobe. Maybe next time?” She asked.

“Definitely,” you smiled. Maeve grinned back at you.

“I’ll come get you for that noon meeting, okay? Eat up,” she said, winking. You nodded as she marched out. Okay, two people in your corner now. You opened your laptop, and Marcus’s face stared back at you. You remembered the smile he’d given you.

Oh, man. That really did nothing to get rid of your crush.

At 11:45, Maeve returned to fetch you for your meetings. They were in a conference room inside a set of office buildings across from the studio lot. The conference room had glass windows and a long, mahogany table with black leather rolling chairs, place cards sitting in front of all of them. A soft, black leather couch sat at the end of the room. Everything in here looked expensive. You’d found your place card at the head of the table.

“What happens if I switch the place cards?” You wondered aloud. “Why do they need me at the head?”

Stormy, who had arrived early, laughed. “It’s your meeting! You really are a wallflower, aren’t you?”

You told her the truth.

“I’m not, really. I’m actually great at public speaking when it’s with other writers or academics. I just, like, I don’t know what to do with anyone in Hollywood, apparently. I think everyone hates me,” you said, frowning.

“We do not hate you! Well, I don’t. I don’t know about everyone else,” she said, giggling, that sly smile still on her face. “Marcus doesn’t seem to hate you.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Marcus? He’s nice to everyone, isn’t he? And he looked everywhere until I accidentally forced him to look at me. You and Maeve are the only ones who have actually said more than, like, three words to me today.”

“Okay, but every time you looked away, his eyes were on you, girl,” Stormy teased.

You knew she was kidding, but you didn’t like the joke. You were so much bigger than everyone else here. All your instincts told you to wear a t-shirt and an oversized hoodie, but you didn’t think it would do to look like a 30-year-old college student. Instead, you’d stuck with dark wash skinny jeans, black flats, and a dark green tunic that was more form fitting than you’d intended it to be. You wished you’d brought the hoodie.

“There are at least seven supermodel level women, most much younger than me, walking around this set. Including yourself. I don’t think Marcus Pike is interested in this,” you said, gesturing to yourself. It came out harsher than you’d intended, but you didn’t like to be teased about this kind of thing.

“I didn’t—I’m sorry, I wasn’t being mean,” Stormy said. Her sincerity flooded you with guilt. “I meant—”

“No, Stormy, it’s okay. I overreacted,” you said, shaking your head.

As she went to put her hand on your shoulder, you heard something that made the blood in your veins seize up and your heart damn near stop.

“What am I not interested in?”

Marcus realized that sentence was not meant for him when she looked at him, frightened, like she’d gotten her hand stuck in the proverbial cookie jar. He gazed at her, looking so lovely in such a simple little outfit, and felt himself turn red to the tips of his ears.

Marcus was a confident man. He enjoyed flirting, but he had no idea how to talk to her. Something about her pretty eyes made him go slack-jawed.

Thank God the director walked in and called the meeting. Marcus had looked forward to working with Nicole Freeman. There were still too few female directors in the business. She was respectful, hard working, the kind of person who took the source material into account in all manners. Of course she’d want the author on set.

At the head of the table, the author in question eyed her place card, then glanced at his in the seat next to her. She frowned, like the seating arrangement displeased her.

Be professional, he scolded himself. He’d told himself he wouldn’t do this. He was absolutely not going to meet a woman at work, dive headfirst into a relationship, scare her off, and have a messy break up where she gets attacked.

Not again.

And anyway, he didn’t even know if she would be interested in him at all. He would never tell her she was his favorite romance author, and that he’d been reading her books for years now. He didn’t even tell people he read romance. He would never tell her he’d gone out for this part because he thought there could be a small chance he’d be able to meet her.

He would never tell her after he’d gotten the part, he found her social media and learned even more about her, scrolled through her Twitter and Instagram for hours; that he’d broken his vow to never be in a Christmas movie just for her.

God, he was a stalker.

No one needed to know what a heartsick romantic Marcus Pike was.

He took his seat next to her, and she pulled all her limbs closer. Marcus prided himself on his ability to read body language. She was trying to make herself smaller, less noticeable.

He hated that.

He should have talked to her at breakfast. He smiled, but he should have talked to her. She looked so nervous. Wasn’t putting people at ease his whole thing? Didn’t he love making people feel welcome? Everyone had been so disinterested. He truly hadn’t expected that. It made his feigned disinterest so much worse.

Boundaries, Marcus, he thought.

“The purpose of this meeting is so that all of you can really dig into your roles,” Nicole said, breaking him from his thoughts. “We’ve found with book adaptations that there is no one better to do this with than the author. Think of her as your character’s god. She is all knowing.”

Jessica King, the actress playing his ex-wife, bristled at the statement.

“What if we’ve already decided on how we want to portray the character we were cast as?”

“Yeah,” said the twenty-year-old who was playing Marcus’s teenage son, to several nods of agreement. He was a Disney channel star. Marcus got along well with both of them, but he didn’t think he liked these questions. They seemed disrespectful. Before anyone else could say anything, she opened her mouth, and her voice sounded strong, more confident than it had earlier in the day.

“Look, Jessica, right? And Noah? I’m not here to step on the toes of your creative process. If you feel like you’ve got it, then you’ve got it. I’m not here to tell you how to act. I’m here to tell you why your characters would do something,” she said. “I am stunned by your talents. All of you. But these are my babies. I know their motives and reasoning and their childhoods and their traumas. So please, by all means, play Nancy the way you want to play her. But you won’t get her without my help.”

Stormy smiled to herself, and Marcus couldn’t contain a satisfied smirk.

“Well said! I...didn’t know you could talk that much,” Nicole joked.

She shrugged. “I have a lot to say about them.”

The meeting went on a little longer and she fielded questions like she’d been doing it for years. Which, when Marcus thought about it, she probably had been.

“Right,” Nicole said, a little while later, “Okay, so, you all have individual meetings tomorrow, so let’s get to it.”

As everyone cleared out, Marcus watched her close her eyes and take a few deep breaths. He knew he should go say something to her; tell her how excited he was to work with her; ask her how she’s doing; if she’s started a new book—something. Instead, he walked out of the room with his hands in his pockets, kicking himself for being such a coward.

The rest of the day passed in a haze, with you just trying to keep up. The screenwriters were gracious, asking you if you had any input, and to your immense surprise, you did not. By the time six rolled around, your exhaustion had gripped you.

Another driver took you home, but they weren’t quite as chatty as Steve. You stumbled into your little bungalow, stopping just long enough to use the bathroom and change clothes before jumping into the king size bed in the master and ordering Chinese food. The calltime was later for you tomorrow, but you wanted to prove to everyone you were part of the team. If the actors were getting there at six, so would you.

Steve arrived at five sharp just as you were stumbling out of your house.

“Coffee, miss?”

“Please,” you said, perhaps more desperately than intended.

“Peppermint mocha again?”

You bit your lip. You really shouldn’t have all those empty calories every day.

“Just a plain black coffee today, please.”

Everyone was just as cool to you this morning as they were the previous day, and you sipped your coffee in your trailer, your stomach performing an unpleasant dance all the while.

You didn’t hate it, but you missed the peppermint.

The hours passed in a flurry of activity, much like that day before. Sometimes the conversations were productive; sometimes they weren’t. And sometimes the actors didn’t show up at all. Noah, it pleased you to see, had a lot to say about Jake. His understanding and commitment to getting him right made you forget his snotty behavior the day before.

“I just really wanna do well. Sorry if I was rude yesterday.”

“It’s fine, kid,” you said.

“I don’t want to be that Disney channel kid forever, you know? I want people to take me seriously,” he explained, brown eyes shining. They’d done a great job with casting. He looked like he could be Marcus’s son.

“I know exactly what you mean,” you sighed, heart aching for him.

Stormy showed up, of course, but you two mainly used it as a late lunch break.

“It’s cold outside!” She proclaimed, shivering in her light cardigan.

“It’s sixty-five degrees,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, so? That’s cold! Aren’t you from the South?”

You laughed at her indignation. She went over her lines with you some, pointing out bits of dialogue she thought you should fight the director on.

“I’m not fighting anyone on anything,” you said.

“What about a gentle suggestion?”

“Maybe,” you relented. The subject turned to Marcus, and your cheeks warmed at the mention of him.

“I wasn’t kidding, you know,” she said through bites of a chicken salad sandwich. “He really was looking at you.”

“I think you might need glasses,” you said. “I just...no one is ever interested in me. A gorgeous movie star was not looking at me. Besides, I’m too busy to date. Who wants to date a girl who locks herself in a room all day in her pajamas to write romance books?”

Stormy looked at you with sad eyes, but you changed the subject before she could keep going. You didn’t need to fuel any sort of fire for the man. He was your coworker now.

The last meeting was with Marcus. Your stomach twisted with nerves. You wanted to be alone with him, your mind racing with vivid and ridiculous fantasies; at the same time, you didn’t even want him to know you existed. Five-thirty came and went, and the conference room remained empty save for you and your ratty blue backpack. At six, that creeping exhaustion returned.

The weight in your stomach, however, lifted as you realized he wouldn’t be able to ask you to explain what you meant when he walked in on your conversation with Stormy the previous day. Not that you thought he would, per se. He’d probably forgotten all about it.

When six-thirty rolled around, you gathered your things and left, flicking the light off behind you. The sting of disappointment and rejection drowned out that previous relief. You’d spent an hour staring out of the window, enjoying the glittering Christmas lights they’d up around the lot. As you shouldered your backpack and took your phone out to call an Uber, you heard the stomp, stomp, stomp of someone running behind you. Whirling around, prepared to defend yourself, you came face to face with Marcus Pike.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, “I completely forgot—my memory is…do you need to leave right now?”

How on Earth were you supposed to say no to those eyes; that pouting, worried mouth? You grabbed the straps of your backpack and held them tight, like they would keep you from getting lost in his gaze. You wanted to say that yes, you needed to go because your time was just as valuable as his, but you couldn’t. It was your job. If he had questions about Alexander, you were going to answer them.

You sighed and opened the door again.

“Come on, let’s do this,” you said, attempting to mask the headache and tiredness.

You didn’t think your back could take much more of the office chair, so you sank down onto the black leather couch, shivering. Stormy, unfortunately, was right. It was cold. Marcus pulled over one of the office chairs.

There was no table between the two of you, and he drew the chair right up to you. It was much too personal. His body heat wafted over you; his cologne filled your nose. He was so real. He had a little makeup left on his forehead from the make-up test. You fought the impulse to reach up and wipe it off. It was just the two of you, alone, his kind eyes boring into your own. Actors made eye contact in ways you’d never understand, and he had your cheeks burning.

On the bright side, you weren’t cold anymore.

“All right. What’s up?” You asked.

Marcus scolded himself as he ran down the hallway. It was one thing to keep her at a distance, and another to be an inconsiderate asshole. He breathed a sigh of relief when he caught her just about to leave. The annoyance on her face had made him feel even worse, but he deserved it.

He’d gotten fifteen minutes down the road when he remembered the damn meeting. His chest had seized up with panic, thinking of her sitting there, waiting for him.

“And here I was, thinking you just didn’t care about my opinion. You just forgot I existed,” she quipped. She looked tired. Not bad, but the bags under her eyes were more prominent, and that professional demeanor she’d held the day before was down, too.

He wanted to soak up as much of this time with her like this as he could, unguarded and soft.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, looking into her eyes.

“It’s fine. No harm done,” she said, scrubbing her face and smudging her mascara. There was something endearing about the black smear next to her eye, and he resisted swiping his thumb over the swell of her cheek bone.

He had a thousand questions about Alexander. He’d written them down throughout the last two days and pulled a little notebook out of his pocket. The ghost of a smile crossed her face when she saw the list.

She was so dedicated to her story; to having it play out the right way. And she was smart. God, she was smart. He didn’t remember being anything like that at thirty.

“What are your favorite pancakes?” he asked, after he ran out of Alexander-related questions.

“Lemon blueberry,” she replied without hesitation. “God, I’m starving.”

She bit her lip then, like she’d said too much about something.

“God, me too,” he said, laughing. “Do you want something from the vending machine? I saw one out there. I’m gonna get something.”

She paused for a moment and swallowed. “Okay, sure. Thanks.”

“What do you want?”

“Just… a water is fine.”

Marcus frowned. It was almost nine. “Are you sure?”

She nodded, a tight-lipped smile on her face. He wondered when she’d eaten last. The vending machine was in the long, half-lit hallway, fluorescent lights buzzing loudly and highlighting the hideous blue carpet. He got a bunch of different snacks—pretzels, a honeybun, a brownie, some Doritos. A Coke and two bottles of water. He’d leave them on the space on the couch next to her, and she could decide if she wanted something.

“So,” he said as he came back. “Lemon blueberry?”

“Yeah,” she said, eyeing the Doritos. “My mom used to make them when I wasn’t feeling well. I mean, she still does.”

“We should get some sometime,” he said, and she grinned, her awkwardness melting a bit. He couldn’t help himself. He shouldn’t have said it, but he wanted to take her somewhere for pancakes.

“What’s your favorite holiday movie?” She asked.

“Ah,” he said. He knew she’d ask.

“What?”

“I don’t have one.”

“You don’t have one?”

“I don’t like Christmas. Or anything this time of year, really,” he admitted.

“But you’re in a Christmas movie! A romantic drama Christmas movie! The most Christmas-y of them all!” She teased.

“Well, yeah. I like getting paid,” he quipped. “And—and it’s a good story. A great story.”

“Thanks, I think,” she said.

“I mean it. I didn’t mean to imply that it wasn’t. What’s yours?” He said, redirecting.

“Little Women.”

“Little Women isn’t a Christmas movie,” he argued.

“Sure it is! There’s Christmas involved, and it makes me cry—it’s a Christmas movie. The Greta Gerwig version is the best.”

“I actually…haven’t seen it,” he admitted.

“Okay, well, watch it. Florence Pugh is amazing. First time I ever loved Amy.”

“I guess I have to now,” he smiled, opening the Doritos. “Want one?”

She reached into the bag and took a single chip, nibbling on in between yawns and stretches. It was late, but he didn’t want to let her go. He didn’t want to leave.

“What inspired the books?” he asked after a minute of munching.

She looked him up and down like she was deciding if she could trust him.

“A very bad break up, actually.”

“A bad break up inspired them living happily ever after?”

She grinned.

“You read all the books?”

Shit.

He grinned back. “Yeah, I did. They’re so…hopeful.”

Her smile turned shy. “I just wanted a happy ending for once. If not for me, then at least for December, you know? Like, love might not be in the cards for me, but it can be for her. For other people.”

Marcus studied the down turn of her lips.

“Why wouldn’t it be the cards for you?” He asked softly. “You’re young.”

She shook her head.

“People don’t always get happy endings in real life. I mean, like, maybe I’ll find someone someday, but it’s not going to be like that epic Christmas love affair with all the odds stacked against them, and then it’s all fine. Someone will just…settle, eventually.”

“Wha-that’s—that’s just silly. There’s someone for everyone. Just because you’ve had bad luck in the past—“

Marcus didn’t know why he was arguing with her. It wasn’t his place at all, but he hated that she thought someone would just settle for her. He recognized that he’d crossed the line when her eyes flashed at him.

“I’ve had bad luck always. Always. I’m glad you’ve never had anyone tell you that you’re not physically their type anymore after three years together, or that your career should come second to their needs, or told they can’t introduce you to their friend because they don’t want to deal with the ‘drama,’ but that’s how it’s been for me. So I write happy endings. Because some of us don’t get one.”

Marcus swallowed.

She pinched her nose between her fingers, then stood up to gather her things.

“Look, you’re going to make a wonderful Alexander. Truly. Thanks for meeting with me. I’ll see you Monday.”

His gaze followed her to the door.

“What am I not interested in?” he called before he could think better of it. She hesitated at the threshold.

“Good night, Marcus,” was all she said.

Marcus stood there, stunned at himself for not letting it go. But she was wrong. There was someone for everyone.

There had to be.

Haunted by his huge hands. Imagine that hand on your knee under the table in a restaurant, on your bare thigh while you sip whisky together at a bar, slipped between your legs for comfort while he drives you home. Sigh.

Nervous Din

Hi my queen!! Hope you’re doing great❤️❤️ I was wondering if I could maybe request 3 + 48 from the touching prompts for Javi? 🥺✨💕

Love you!!!! 💓💓💓💓

AN | I am apparently incapable of writing anything but fluff lately, so here we are. Enjoy!

Pairing | Javier x Fem!Reader

Warnings | None

Word Count | 1.3k

Prompts Used | 3. Hiding Face in Neck & 48. Dancing with each other

Masterlist | Main, Javier

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time Javier returned home it was late; still not as late however as it would be when he still worked for the DEA. This was the kind of late where it wouldn’t be odd for you to still be up, also working late, reading, or watching something on television. As soon as you heard the door slowly creak open, you practically threw your book on the table and ran to greet him.

“Javier!” his name was but an excited whisper from your lips as you stopped in front of him. You were one of the few people that could use his full first name and not have him worry about the implications. His expression immediately softened as he dropped his briefcase and kicked off his shoes before stepping forward and pulling you into his arms, “I’m so glad you’re home, my love.”

“I’ve only been gone since this morning,” he laughed lightly as you took his face in your hands and peppered kisses all over his cheeks and lips, causing a light pink blush to creep up. He relaxed into your touch as you pulled him towards the kitchen, “what’s the occasion?”

“No occasion,” you insisted, brushing the stray locks of hair out of his face, “just wanted to make sure you know how much I love you - how in love with you I am.”

“It almost makes me think you’re up to something,” he teased as you just shrugged your shoulders innocently, “I love you too, Dulzura. I’m glad to be home.”

“As you should be,” you tenderly stroked his cheek before lightly nudging him towards the kitchen table, “hungry?”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to-”

“I already made dinner,” you pulled out the plate you had prepared for him, already warm and ready before grabbing a cold beer from the fridge, “so don’t even say a word.”

He watched in awe as you set the plate down in front of him before opening the beer; you grabbed a glass of wine for yourself before sitting down across from him and offering him a gentle smile. He shook his head with a silent huff of amusement before digging in, “you treat me too well.”

“Nah,” you insisted firmly, “I had the day off and wanted to do this. Javier, you spent so long taking care of everyone else, and still do, sometimes you need to accept that people want to take care of you.”

“You’re something else, you know that?” he asked as you just took a sip of wine with a little smirk, “I don’t know what I'd do without you.”

“I think you’d be just fine, Javier,” you gently nudged his foot with yours, “but I’ll take the compliment.”

He chuckled under his breath as he took another bite. You fell into a comfortable rhythm as he ate and told you about his day at the office, and you drank your wine, hanging onto his every word. Javier could have been reading numbers out of the phonebook and you still would have been listening intently; he just had that effect on you.

It was a strange way to be with Javier in some ways; it was a far cry from how things had been when you’d first gotten together. Back then he was finishing up in Columbia, and life was like a chaotic whirlwind. You had been positive that he never would have enjoyed a quiet life like this after all he had been through. At first he hadn’t, but after a while he had settled into his role with ease.

You liked domesticity. You liked domesticity with Javier. You really just liked Javier.

Not liked - loved. He wasn’t perfect, obviously neither were you, but everything was just so much better together. And you loved everything about that and him.

“Hey,” you whispered softly when he was finished with rinsing and putting his dishes in the sink. You’d walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist as you pressed a kiss to his shoulder as he relaxed into your touch. You held him for a few moments, listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart as you buried your face in his neck and pressed a few kisses to the spot that always gave him shivers.

“Dulzura,” his breath was low and raspy as he slowly turned around so he was facing you. He gently took your face in his hands, studying your features closely before he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, “what’s going on that pretty head of yours?”

“I was just thinking,” you mused softly, “that wedding we went to last weekend - you know what we didn’t do when we were there?”

“Hmm?” he mused as you ran a hand through his dark hair.

“You promised me we would dance,” you reminded him with a small little smile, “and you never made good on that.”

“You’re really going to hold me accountable for that, huh?” he asked as you looked at him with wide doe eyes and nodded, “ahh - nothing gets by you, does it?”

“Not when it comes to something so important, such as a dance with my husband,” you insisted before pulling out of his touch and going over to the record player that was kept in the living room. You’d already had the forethought to put his favorite record on earlier and quickly let it play before walking back over to him, holding your hand out to him, “may I have this dance, Señor Peña?”

“You’re the only one that will ever get these dances,” he took your hand in his much larger one and pulled you close to his chest as his other arm slinked around your waist, “I love you, Dulzura. You know that, right?”

“Of course I do,” you chided softly as you followed his lead and let him sway you around the kitchen, “I would never think anything but. What makes you ask?”

“I dunno,” he murmured into your hair as you huffed lightly suggesting that you didn’t quite believe him (you didn’t), “fine...it’s just that sometimes I wonder if there’s something better out for you-”

“Javier,” you shut him down almost immediately as you pulled back and shook your head at him, “there is nothing and no one else for me. You are it. Regardless of what you think or how you feel - you are my home and heart. Don’t question that for a moment.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he laughed as you kissed his cheek.

“You’re right - no one does,” you agreed with a little smirk, “but you come pretty close. Well, no, you’re the only one who does. Now, just dance with me and don’t think about anything else for a little while, si?”

“Si,” he agreed softly, holding you just a little closer.

Neither of you were perfect, but you were pretty sure this was nothing short of heaven.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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Got some practice in this past weekend. 💜

Process video is on my IG. ☺️

You’re such a brat

Moodboard by me

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: You’re captured by Mando when a bounty is put on your head. Will he be able to tolerate your bratty attitude?

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Smut, unprotected p in v sex, rough sex, squirting, choking, throat-holding, dirty talk, handcuffs, bad language

Word count: 1.1k

Masterlist

You’re running through a wooded area, trying to prevent yourself from getting caught by the beskar covered man chasing after you. You knew you should’ve paid that guy the credits you owed him, but you don’t have the credits. Never are you ever playing card games for credits ever again.

“Stop!” You hear the man yell at you. It sounds pretty close, urging you to pick up your pace and sprint even faster through the woods, you don’t want him to capture you. “I said, stop!” He yells at you again. You still don’t comply with his command.

You’re starting to lose your breath, it’s exhausting running for so long at a rapid pace. You want to stop, you need to stop, but you can’t, not like you’re being hunted down like a big cat’s prey. You make an unfortunate mistake by slowing down. He’s now catching up to you, at a dangerous speed. You know that you’re done for now, you know you’re best just giving up and handing yourself into him. That’s exactly what you do.

“I take it you decided to do things the easy way?” The bounty hunter asks you as he closes handcuffs around your wrists. “I take it as you never give up.” You throw back at him in response to his comment. You take it as he didn’t like that because he tightens the handcuffs and literally drags you all the way back to his ship.

***

He’s had you doing his head in for hours. He doesn’t know how long he can tolerate your attitude. If you’re not talking too much, you’re asking too many questions. If you’re not asking too many questions, you’re just plain out being a brat with him and he’s just about had enough with it.

“What’s your name?” You ask him. You didn’t think, you didn’t realise how disrespectful it’d be to him. Maybe you should’ve known, you know given him being a mandalorian, you know so much about the mandalorian culture, read dozens of books on it, but it still slipped your mind. “Why don’t you just shut up? You’ve been down my ear all day and I’m pissing me off.” He replies to you, clearly unamused. “Why don’t you shut the kriff up?!” You yell back at him.

He turns his head to you and you know for a fact that you just pushed a button you weren’t supposed to push. “That is it, you brat.” He growls at you, clearly struggling to tolerate you at the moment. “You’re on your last warning.” You chuckle and stand up and walk towards him, you crouch down so that you’re at his level and say to him cockily, “Or what? You have to take me in, you’re stuck with me darling.”

“That’s it.” He growls, as he grabs you by your throat and pulls you in closer to him. “If I can’t make you shut up with my words, I’ll have to make shut up with something else.” Your lips curl up into a smirk, you love the sound of that. “Oh yeah? What you have in mind?” He grabs the key for the handcuff and un cuffs you, then he picks you up over his shoulders, carrying you into the hull. “I’ll give you something long and thick to cum on, that’ll shut you up.” He adds onto what he said, as he drops you onto his cot. “Would you like that?” You nod desperately. You are desperate, it’s been a while since you’ve last had sex.

With that said, Mando desperately and as quickly as he can tears all items of clothing and all his armour off, obviously leaving his helmet on and then undressed you until you’re lying there before him bare naked, before flipping you onto all fours, bending you over his cot. He grinds his long, thick cock through your folds and slowly pushes the tip inside you, causing a quiet moan to escape your mouth. He stays still for a few moments so you can adjust to his size. He withdraws the tip through your pussy before pounding himself straight back into you, ball deep, causing you to moan louder.

With each lethal thrust that he gives you, your moans grow louder and louder to the point where they’re not necessarily moans anymore, they’re too loud to be moans. The best way to describe them is probably cries of pleasure. The mandalorian moves his hand up to your throat applying pressure, as he continues to rail hard and deep into your desperate pussy. This is without a doubt the best day of your life, ever.

Your close to your orgasm, so fucking close. You can feel that beautiful sensation in your lower abdomen, growing stronger and stronger with every devastating thrust he gives you, getting ready to explode at any moment. He’s also very close to his orgasm as well, you can feel it. You can feel the way his thrusts have slowed down, as his hips tremble against your arse in pleasure. You can feel the way his cock is pulsing deep within you, so desperate for a release. With two more thrusts, you have reached your climax, you scream out in pleasure as the fireworks within you explode and you squirt all over his long, thick cock and his lower abdomen.

The mandalorian feels himself about to cum. “Where should I cum?” He asks you, as he moans. “On my tummy, please.” You reply to him, almost sounding like a plea. That being said, he pulls out of you, flips you over so you’re lying down on his cot, then he rubs his cock against your lower abdomen, as he leaks his cum all over your tummy.

Once you’ve both come down from your orgasms, the mandalorian grabs a wet cloth and starts to clean your stomach, folds and thighs. After that he helps you get dressed before getting back into his own clothes and armour.

Once you’re both dressed, the mandalorian sits down next to you on the cot, he seems warmer—softer, like he’s more comfortable around you. You know he has something to say so you turn your head around to him. “How about I don’t hand you in and I hire you as a crew member for my ship, it’ll be good pay, I promise.” He suggests to you. “I’d love to.” You reply to him.

“You try and get some sleep now, yeah?” He says to you. “You look like you could use a few hours sleep.” You nod in response. He grabs a blanket and wraps you up in it. “Sleep well.” He says to you. “And oh, by the way, the name’s Mando.” You close your eyes and smile happily at the confession, you’re over the moon, you can’t believe he just told you his name. Mando smiles beneath his helmet at your reaction and then he disappears back up to the cockpit to let you get some sleep.

———————————————————————

Permanent taglist: @mesmorales @omlwhatamidoinghere @insomniamamma @prideandpascal @littlepadika

Hello! Congrats on your milestone I've loved your writing even before I started my own blog. I was hoping I could get a peek at what Professor!Pacal is up to. I just love the story so much <3

awww!! thank you so much bb!! this story is so close to my heart and perhaps it’s time to revisit:

Professor Pascal

Pedro Pascal (college professor AU)/fem!reader. Explicit. Sequel set almost 15 years later. Pedro once said he could imagine another life as a lit professor and I wove that together with a few college stories of my own.

A/N: I never thought of this story as RPF, it was always more about me with him as a placeholder. That being said, if the idea of RPF bothers you, feel free to scroll on past.

Thanks to my beloved @ezrasbirdie for the beta and for always seeing the love behind the words.

Length: 3.2k

Previous | Masterlist

***

“Department Chair, huh?” You asked, leaning against the doorway to Professor Pascal’s office. You hadn’t seen him since the day after graduation, when he’d given you one last kiss at your car before watching you drive away, cap and tassel tossed on the passenger seat. Your car had been packed to start your new life, the first of many job-related moves.

And yet, you’d never been happier than you were within these walls.

So here you were, master’s degree under your belt at last, preparing to teach in the same classrooms where you once learned.

He looked up from his desk, papers stacked across it, a bookshelf on the wall nearby bowing under the weight of textbooks and journals. He slid his glasses up his nose, framing eyes with more crinkles than you remembered. Hair greying all over, salt and pepper rather than streaks at the temples. He stood up to his full height, and his body looked only slightly softer from age.

“It’s been far too long,” he said, walking towards you. You stepped inside, embracing him and letting yourself sink into his scent for just a moment.

“So, our newest adjunct professor,” he said, grinning. “How does it feel to be back?”

“A little strange, if I’m honest,” you confessed, tugging nervously at the hem of your blouse.

“You’ll do great, I have no doubt,” he replied, waving toward the chair in front of his desk, where you once sat for office hours.

God. It’s the same chair.

The paint is peeling a bit more, the foam armrests picked at by anxious students, but there’s no mistaking it.

“Everything okay?” He asked, noticing your silence.

“No, yeah, everything’s fine,” you said, pushing the memories from your mind. “How, um. How have you been?”

“Ah, you know. Shaping young minds,” he said, a gentle smile on his face. “Watching your career with interest.”

“Really?” You smiled, a self-deprecating shrug. “Not exactly world-changing stuff.”

“I disagree,” he said, leaning forward and folding his hands. “A public service. The world needs to be informed. And these have certainly been trying times for us all.”

You nodded.

“I suppose you’re right. Well, I should get my things set up in the adjunct office, I guess. I’m sure we’ll talk soon,” you said, rising from the chair. Your stomach twisted anxiously. You weren’t sure what you’d expected, anyway. A warm welcome? A passionate kiss? You’d completely lost touch for more than a decade, and you couldn’t say for sure whether he’d been married since, started a family of his own. You didn’t spot a ring, or any family photos set on the desk in places of honor, though.

You weren’t sure if that made you happy or sad.

For your part, you’d been married to your work, traveling from one city, one job to the next every few years. The punishing pace of your industry meant that you were always chasing stories, working odd hours and holidays. At first, you’d politely turned down invitations to events with friends, knowing you’d be the one required to spend the days working.

Then the invitations stopped coming.

That made things easier in a way; retreating into a smaller life. Fewer people to let down when you invariably bailed on plans. Boyfriends quickly lost patience with you; seeing you once a week at most was unsustainable, and you only loved with half of your heart. None of them got close enough to be missed terribly when they were gone.

You looked up at last, approaching your mid-thirties and realized you could easily lose another decade this way if you remained on autopilot. So you’d taken the leap, managing to complete your masters degree online, and applied to teaching positions at a few universities - including your own alma mater.

“Hey,” a warm voice called from the doorway of the adjunct office.

It was him.

“That wasn’t a proper chance to catch up,” he said, smiling. “How about dinner? You free tonight?”

You adjusted your own glasses.

“Dinner sounds great.”

++

Going out on a date with your former professor-slash-secret lover was a whole new experience. For one thing, you didn’t have to hide this time. He picked you up from your new apartment, the car upgraded (tenure has its perks), and headed for a popular Italian restaurant not far from the university. You’re pretty sure it used to be a Greek restaurant.

He opened the door for you, graciously ordered a bottle of wine, and smiled across the table.

“What?” You asked, when he didn’t speak right away.

“Nothing, just- thinking. How things change, and how they don’t.”

“Vague and cryptic,” you said, taking a sip of the red Cabernet. It felt alive in your mouth; buzzing like you drank bees.

You swallowed with some effort.

“Never once to mince words,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “You always kept me on my toes.” He sipped his wine. “Actually, ‘knocked me off my feet’ would be more accurate.”

You smiled wistfully.

“I was so young,” you said, shaking your head. “Had so many big ideas about what the world could be, what my life could be. After all this time, you know what I’ve learned?” You took another sip. “The world doesn’t give a shit about me.”

His expression crumpled slightly, eyebrows falling, brown eyes turning sad.

“That’s a bleak outlook,” he said. “What about your friends? Family? Boyfriend?”

You shrugged.

“It’s not their fault. I mean, I know I’ve had people that loved me- love me. I just kept chasing the success, the kind of praise I only got when I did something spectacular. In the real world you don’t get gold stars and high honors just for doing your job well. And it turns out in the real world, I’m not that special after all.”

Shit. This wine was strong. You hadn’t planned on unloading like this. But once the cork was out—

“The last time I felt special was with you.”

It took you a moment to realize the words had come out of his mouth, not yours.

“What?”

“You - that summer. And I couldn’t chase you, I knew you were off-limits, I was playing with fire. Insert whatever trite cliche you want. But I couldn’t make myself regret it, and I hope,” he said, voice pained, “I hope you didn’t either.”

Your face softened, and you reached across the table, taking his hand.

“Not for a moment,” you said, smiling gently.

The pair of you ate pasta, shifting the conversation to lighter topics, books you were reading. Your own travels.

“I’ve seen the world now, too,” you said, grinning. “Got my own boomerang souvenir from Australia and everything. Can’t get it to work, though.”

He chuckled.

“I thought of you when I bought it,” you admitted over a piece of tiramisu. “I thought about you a lot.”

Dinner drew to a close, and you were in the car, making your way back to the new apartment you’d rented, when he pulled off into a parking lot.

“Little surprise,” he said, smiling.

The coffee shop.

It was a chain now, the old logo painted over and replaced with a fancy neon sign, but they’d kept the open mic stage, at the urging of the locals. You glanced into the backseat and saw a guitar case.

“We don’t have to- if you just want a cup of coffee, that’s okay,” he said quickly. “I just thought, you know. Old times’ sake.”

You smiled gently.

“Why not?”

++

You walked inside the coffee shop, taking in the soft lighting and the gleaming, new tables. The stage in the corner looked much the same, mic stand set up next to a pair of stools, gray industrial carpet covering the platform. Someone had just finished up a set, and was packing up their equipment, to light applause.

“Hey, professor,” one of the baristas said, grinning. He had dark, curly hair and hazel eyes; just the sort of college boy you should have gone for. Would have, maybe. Never wanted, really.

“Hey, Logan,” he said with a grin, waving. He looked over at you and nodded in the kid’s direction. “Logan’s one of my brightest this year. Good kid,” he said. You didn’t miss the way Logan ogled you slightly.

“Logan, meet one of your new teachers,” he said. Logan’s face went on an amusing journey from surprised to sheepish at having been caught out.

“Hi,” he said, nodding politely. “Nice to meet you. What’ll it be?”

You smiled back at him knowingly.

“Iced coffee, medium is fine,” you said. “I’ll add my own stuff.”

Logan turned to your companion.

“And you, Dr. P?”

You smiled again.

“Small espresso.”

“Holy shit,” you said, making Logan’s eyes widen.

Pedro chuckled.

“Won’t you be up all night?” You asked, eyebrow raised.

“If I’m lucky,” he said, making Logan cough awkwardly.

“Sorry, buddy. You didn’t hear that.”

Logan shrugged.

“Gonna entertain us tonight, Dr. P?”

“Maybe just one song,” he replied, and the pair of you sat down at a table near the stage. Logan brought your drinks over a couple of minutes later.

You sipped your coffee, watching the professor drain his small cup.

“Been a long time since we sang together,” you said, fiddling with the straw in your drink.

“Bonnie Raitt last time,” he said. “That was some song.”

“Some night,” you replied, smiling gently at the memory. Your mouth quirked upwards in a playful smirk.

“So, what do you think? Know any new songs, old man?” You asked.

He met your gaze and nodded.

“I think I know just the one.”

++

You eyed him suspiciously as the pair of you took the stage, settling onto the stools. He hadn’t told you what you’d be singing.

His fingers picked out a melody on his guitar. Simple chords.

E minor. D. G.

He leaned in to the microphone, his eyes fixed on you.

Tell me something, girl

Are you happy in this modern world

You smiled in recognition.

Or do you need more

Is there somethin' else you're searchin' for?

I'm fallin'

In all the good times

I find myself longin’ for change

And in the bad times I fear myself

E minor. D. G.

You took a deep breath.

Tell me something boy

Aren't you tired tryin' to fill that void?

Or do you need more

Ain't it hard keepin' it so hardcore?

The pair of you leaned in together.

I'm falling

In all the good times

I find myself longing for change

And in the bad times I fear myself

He leaned back, strumming the chords as you sang.

I'm off the deep end

Watch as I dive in

I'll never meet the ground

Crash through the surface

Where they can't hurt us

We're far from the shallow now

The pair of you finished the song, foreheads pressed close to each other, as the handful of customers clapped and cheered.

Your cheeks felt hot, and the professor blushed as he waved graciously to the tables.

“You wanna get out of here?” You asked, heart racing.

“More than anything,” he replied.

You picked up the tip cup that a few people had dropped money into and held it out to Pedro.

“Oh, just - add it to the employee tip jar. I always do.”

You smiled, pouring the contents into the plastic container. Logan gave you an appreciative nod.

“See you at school,” you said, waving as Pedro held the door for you to walk out.

You sat down in the passenger seat as Pedro set his guitar case across the backseat, getting into the car.

He’d only sat down for a moment when you leaned over, fingertips clasping his cheeks and pulling him in to kiss him. He mmph-ed in surprise, kissing you back, hands sliding into your hair.

“I had a whole speech planned,” he said, chuckling as your lips parted. “I’m not sure I’ll remember it now.”

You card your fingers through his dark hair, flecked with silver.

“Take me home, please,” you say, kissing him again. “And stay.”

++

You unlocked the door to your apartment, swinging it wide and welcoming him inside. You dropped your keys in a dish on the counter, toeing off your shoes and padding over to the fridge.

“You want another drink?” You asked, eyes meeting his.

He stood in the kitchen, hands folded awkwardly.

“Is- is something wrong?”

He cleared his throat.

“I have a confession to make,” he said, his expression turning serious.

“Oh no. You’re married.”

“What? No, no, that’s not it,” he replied, blowing out a small sigh of relief. “I just- you’ll find out eventually anyway- I went to bat for you. With the hiring committee.”

“Oh.” You bit your lip. “Okay, well, I appreciate that.”

You paused.

“You wanted to make sure I got hired?”

“Yes,” he replied. “But I want you to know, it’s because I believe in you. I always have,” he added, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He took a breath. “That was the first reason. The second was - I couldn’t take a chance that you might go somewhere else.”

You frowned.

“Why?”

He huffed out a short, bitter laugh.

“You know, I didn’t even find out if you were married. For all I knew, you had a spouse and kids by now. I didn’t care. If we could only be colleagues, that was fine with me. I just-” his voice broke, and he looked down at his feet.

You stepped closer, taking his hand in yours.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s insane, really. All these years, no one really compared to what I felt with you. I was so convinced sending you out into the world was right, was necessary, and by the time I realized it I knew that was it and I was just- ruined. For everyone else.”

You started to laugh, making him shrink back in surprise, until he saw the tears streaming down both your cheeks.

“What? What is it?”

“It’s just- me, too,” you said, sobs filling up your chest, a cascade of hiccupping breaths that made you cover your mouth.

“Oh, baby girl,” he said, his own eyes gleaming. “What are we gonna do?” He brushed your tears away with both thumbs, pressing his forehead to yours.

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Make up for lost time,” you replied, taking one of his hands and hiking up your dress, making him smile and shake his head.

“I’m so much older now,” you said, licking your lips.

“Still younger than I was when we met. God, you were so young then.”

“I think we should stop talking now.”

You leaned in, wrapping your arms around him and kissing him, your glasses colliding and making you laugh. You stepped back, then took his hand, leading him into your bedroom and starting to unbutton your dress.

“I still think about how you tasted,” he whispered, his nose pressed to your cheek. “All the time.”

“Take off your clothes,” you replied, kissing his cheek, his jawline, his neck.

He stripped himself, climbing into bed after you let your dress and lace underthings pool on the floor in a heap and pulling you down to him. His hand slipped between your legs, fingertips finding your warm, slick folds and tracing over them.

He slid a finger inside you, then brought it to his lips, sucking it clean like it was dipped in honey. The sight made you sigh, moaning softly.

His hands gripped your thighs, softer than they were so long ago, lifting and pressing them apart as he lowered his face to kiss your core, making you gasp in delight.

“No one does this like you,” you whispered, fingers sinking into his hair, whimpers spilling from your lips as he devoured you like a man desperate; he laved over you with his tongue, lapping at your center and sucking on your clit, his nose pressed to your mound as you bucked helplessly against him. He kept you there for ages; pinned in place with firm, strong arms, his eyes flicking up your body every so often to watch your face as you neared your peak.

At last, you felt your thighs shaking, your toes curling into the sheets, and you cried out, scraping at his shoulders, tugging him up to your face. You kissed him, pressing your tongue into his mouth, tasting yourself and crossing your ankles behind his hips.

“Please,” you whispered, reaching between your bodies to stroke him, lining him up with your soaked, soft opening. “I need you,” you breathed, and he sank into you slowly, the stretch a little easier than you remembered, but still snug. He filled you up, your back arching off the bed as he held you, hips rocking, muscles tightening to drive himself in and out, both of you panting with the effort.

You clung to him as he rocked inside you, pressing up with both arms, eyes locked with yours as your mouth fell open slightly.

He cupped his hand under one cheek of your ass and gently rolled until you were on top of him, knees tucked under you, riding him and bouncing on his hard length.

“Beautiful,” he breathed, hands reaching up to squeeze your breasts. He lifted one hand to cup your face as you rolled your hips and turned to kiss his palm.

“Come on, that’s it,” you panted softly, bracing yourself over him and speeding up, the pair of you knocking the headboard against the wall. You heard your neighbor turn on the stereo - loud.

“Oh my god,” you said, and the pair of you broke your stride, laughing and collapsing into each other’s arms for a few moments.

“Little more,” he whispered at last, still hard inside you. “So close, baby girl,” he moaned, and you rocked faster, his thrusts in tandem forcing small cries from your throat until you felt him hit his peak, flooding you with heat. You shook, full body shivers of pleasure as he came deep inside you, the reunion complete, the decade-plus dissolving away as you folded yourself into his arms.

He kissed your lips, your forehead, your closed eyelids.

“How long has it been for us?” You whispered, throat tightening over the thought of the lost time.

“Fifty-one years, nine months, and four days,” he replied. “Worth every second.”

You chuckled, sniffing.

“Marquez.”

“Top of the class, as ever,” he whispered, kissing your temple.

You spend the semester learning the ropes, getting accustomed to being on the other side of the classroom. You grade papers in bed together, dueling laptops whirring away on the sheets. But sometimes, you grab a red pen, and draw hearts on his chest. It makes you both laugh, now.

Everything is better when you’re laughing.

Looks like we’ll have some new content

catfish lost his hat! (requested by @kteague)

December 1st — Cinnamon

Summary: Marcus smells of cinnamon.

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x GN!Reader

WC: 700 (starting off short and sweet, er spicy)

Warnings: 18+ Smut-ish, flowery metaphors. Happy December 1st. Here we go!

Marcus surrounds you with his warmth. He wraps around you, engulfing you, overwhelming you with the heat of his body and the weight of his hands, impossibly strong yet so precious in how he holds you, your skin cold beneath his touch but getting warmer with every second that passes. There is no part of you that has not felt his touch, a thousand times over he’s mapped your skin, and still you’ll never tire of the generous way he gives to you, shares the fiery heat that radiates from deep within. You would let him do this forever, hovering above you, all over you, trapping you to the mattress below with his body, the heft of him nearly smothering you with the intoxicating scent of him as he thrusts deep inside you, blinding you with dark, burning red. 

Outside is ice and wind, vacant cold that feels so different beneath the frost bitten surface. Inside is sweltering, a perfect contrast of what lies past those fragile panes of glass. Everything glows, a deep set radiance that bathes you in decadence. The days will only grow colder from here on out, winter branching out her wide, unforgiving grasp, but within these walls, with this man holding you so dear, sweat and heat and crackling fire red burning between you, there is not a single thing to worry about. 

The scent of Marcus has you intoxicated, breathing deep and drifting aimlessly as you hold all of him tight to your heart. You press your nose to his bare skin, content to let him meld his hands to your skin as you let him wash over you. It’s overpowering, the musky sweet spicy smell of him, fire on your tongue, cinnamon biting at every single piece of you, stirring into you and turning you that same deep shade of crimson, burnt and heady around your edges, colored so dark you can feel permeating your veins with each beat of your heart, with each thrust of his hips. 

Your hands scramble for purchase, fingernails digging at the meat of his bare back as Marcus moves slow, almost stopping as he bottoms out, lips and tongue marking time against your neck, and you whine, a pathetic whimper begging for him to keep going. He chuckles, dark and low, and you feel the delicious hook of his nose bump into your own before fusing his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. Words aren’t needed, you can feel each syllable mixing into your skin as he sweeps the taste of him through the deep pull of your mouth. 

Taste me. Feel me. Breathe me in.

Gladly.

Again and again you would savor him, fill yourself to the brim with that candy sweet burning taste as it tingles at your nose, branding you with each fire hot pull of his body.  Blissfully, with little warning, Marcus is moving again. He snaps his hips forward, pounding into you, pushing into you over and over, setting the very essence of him deep inside your bones. When his lips pull away you pull him back down, skin pressed to skin, your nose buried where his neck curves, the perfect spot to inhale that smell, something similar to mulled spices and safety and the comfort of home after a hard day. He finds the delicate shell of your ear, heated words carving through ice, as he worships you from every angle. 

Are you warm enough, my love?

Are you? How could he ever doubt? To have him ask that of you, question the fervor that rolls off him, a flame rising higher and higher, licking sweet and gentle across your skin seems insane.You would kill to breathe him in, just as you do now, and you find it is your only wish in life so you beg, shameless and needy for him to never stop. Marcus’s lips find yours yet again, answering your cries with one single promise, painting you in vibrant shades of reds. You take each piece he offers, spicy sweet candy on your tongue and you know when he finally does have to pull away, you’ll be tasting the flavor of cinnamon long after he’s gone.

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he's lost everything

Not to put too fine a point on it, but a hug from Frankie Morales would fix me.

Incorrect Narcos Quotes