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theetherealbloom · 9 days

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BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM

Chapter One: I Know He's Crazy, But He's The One I Want

Summary: After harboring a crush on your dad's charming best friend, Joel Miller, you graduate college only to be confused by something he supposedly said to you, but then he and his daughter Sarah, reluctantly move away due to his work. Six months later, Joel returns to town, and you're desperate to confirm if his words were real. Both you and your dad eagerly await his arrival but for entirely different reasons. As feelings intensify, you realize that falling for him might not be temporary after all.

Paring: Dbf!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, AGE-GAP Romance, Reader is Early twenties and Joel is in his late 30s to early 40s, Secret Romance, Sneaking around, FLUFF, SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, Heavy Make Out Session, Kissing, Barely any plot, Relationship, Swearing, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Flattery, Awkward, Virgin reader, inexperienced reader, slightly Self Deprecating, Suggestive Content,

Word Count: 7.2k

A/N: Happy “The Tortured Poets Department” release! I couldn’t help but shriek with joy when I heard But Daddy I Love Him. Literally, dad best friend Joel Miller coded. I would like to thank @wheresarizona for dealing with my spam in her messages from me as I was yapping about the new album and gushing over her writing; she’s literally one of the best writers ever. That is a fact and I will die on that hill.

This fic is heavily inspired by all of the dad's best friend books and dbf!Joel Miller fics I have read over the years. It is with great honor (and a lot of fucking fear) to present to you this Frankenstein of all of my fav tropes!

Heads up, I’m actually dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: But Daddy I Love Him by Taylor Swift

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As you walk past the neighboring house, you observe the real estate agent meticulously placing the 'SOLD' banner onto the weathered for sale sign. A strange sense of satisfaction washes over you, knowing that someone has finally purchased the property.

Entering your home, you release a sigh of relief as the familiar comfort washes over you. With a casual toss, your keys and bag find their place on the hallway table. The urge to call out to your dad bubbles up, but it freezes in your throat when you're met with an unexpected sound drifting from his home office.

Your heart quickens as you peek inside, only to find your dad's best friend, Joel Miller, lounging on the plush brown lazy boy. His deep, resonant voice fills the room, sending shivers down your spine even before you lay eyes on him.

Clutching the doorframe for support, you fight to steady your nerves. With trembling fingers, you manage to force a smile onto your lips, though it feels strained. "Hey, Dad. Hey… Joel," you manage to squeak, the mere sound of his name stirring a flurry of emotions within you.

The room feels stiflingly quiet as you wait for a response, the weight of Joel's gaze almost tangible. You swallow hard, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as his intense eyes meet yours. His attention feels almost palpable, his gaze lingering on you in a way that sends a rush of warmth through your body. With a low, almost imperceptible grunt of acknowledgment, Joel's gaze finally breaks away, leaving you breathless in his wake.

You try to avert your gaze out of sheer habit, but it's futile, like trying not to be drawn to the most captivating, exquisite sight in existence.

God, it's as if he's been carved from pure perfection, each time you lay eyes on him.

That same intense, brooding look he wore the day of your college graduation, late last year, still grips you. And it seems Joel's gaze has the same effect on your dad, eliciting a familiar reaction. With a quick double-take, your dad shoots a glance at his best friend before swiveling in his seat.

"Hey there, sweetheart, just catching up with Joel. He dropped by for a surprise visit," your dad starts, but he halts mid-sentence, noticing your undeniable reaction. Concern etches his features as he addresses you. "Honey?" he prompts, his voice laced with worry, as you struggle to find your voice for the umpteenth time in mere seconds.

Joel's gaze narrows, his jaw clenching as his intense scrutiny roams over you, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

As you cling to the doorframe, you can't help but notice the subtle movement of Joel's prominent Adam's apple, betraying his own unease.

Breaking the tension, your dad's nervous chuckle pierces the silence, attributing my apparent moodiness to your usual banter. He turns back to Joel, commenting on his friend's expression.

"What's going on with you two?" he quips, his tone shifting from light-hearted to serious in an instant. "Feels like there's some dirty secret between you," your dad adds, the jest evaporating from his voice. Yet, Joel remains unfazed by your dad's observation, his gaze still locked onto you as a faint smile curves his lips.

His lips curl into a smirk, accentuating the charming dimple that appears in his slightly scruffy beard whenever he smiles—a sight that never fails to tug at your heartstrings.

But as your dad's suspicion lingers in the air, Joel's demeanor shifts, yet you still struggle to connect the dots regarding why he's been giving you that look since graduation.

That day was meant to mark a pivotal moment in your life, celebrating the culmination of years of hard work in college. Yet, Joel's presence, the way he gazed at you, and the unexpected intensity of his hug during the congratulations... It's forever etched in your memory for reasons beyond the academic achievement.

And at the center of it all is one word: Joel.

He's a towering figure, a mix of solid muscle and the comforting softness of his belly. In the moment, you brushed off his tight embrace after receiving your diploma as merely the enthusiasm of the occasion.

But as you felt his whole body pressing right into yours during that hug, you knew it wasn’t your regular type of embrace.

“I’m so proud of you, darlin’,” he whispered in your ear. And though you didn’t catch his next words as clearly, you're certain he said something else that day. “…You feel so fuckin’ good….”

At least, that's what you've been convincing yourself he said. You recall gazing up into those big brown eyes, the same intense look he's giving you now, and wondering the same thing. How could an older, dangerously attractive man like Joel be even remotely interested in someone like you? Apart from being your dad’s best friend, he's more than twice your age and lives on the other side of the country with his daughter, Sarah.

You can almost picture the scandalized gasps of the single older women and ex-wives in your town, clutching their pearls and whispering, "What a mess," if you and Joel ever got together; if he was even remotely interested in you like that.

But you've replayed that scene in your mind every day since, and no matter how hard you try, there's just no denying your secret crush on him.

It all started long before college, your feelings for Joel simmering beneath the surface. Back then, you couldn't quite grasp what it was you felt for him. All you knew was that it felt right, and that feeling remains unchanged. Despite the nerves and shyness that being around him brings, there's another undeniable effect he has on you.

Like the overwhelming desire to sink back and beg him to indulge in things that his best friend's daughter probably shouldn't be fantasizing about. It's been a while since you last saw Joel, but he still exudes the same charm and looks even more handsome and fit than before, thanks to his job in construction as a contractor.

And when you receive that same look from him today, when your dad even jokes about his suspicions, you know Joel remembers that day too. The intensity in his eyes mirrors the moment he pulled you close, a memory etched as your most cherished moment so far.

"Well, I reckon’ my presence here might come as a bit of a surprise," Joel rasps, his gaze locked with yours as he emits a low chuckle for your dad's benefit. Unnoticed by your dad, Joel shoots you a sly wink, and you watch as your dad's tension melts away. He's relieved to know he wasn't imagining things, and undoubtedly thrilled once he hears Joel's news. "I'm moving here, right next door with Sarah. Tommy should be dropping her off here tomorrow," he announces with enthusiasm, but you feel the pit of your stomach drop.

Joel... here? For good? Oh, fuck.

Your dad erupts into loud whoops, raising both hands in the air. "It's about time, buddy! I knew you were keeping something from me," he adds, turning to you once again. "You were aware of this?" he asks, furrowing his brow with a hint of confusion.

"You knew Joel and Sarah were coming to town, didn’t you?" Dad repeats, finally grinning like a child at the news. Smiling like a dad who's pushed aside any notion of his best friend showing interest in his only daughter. And you catch a sly grin on Joel’s face as he comes to your rescue. "Oh, I mentioned I might pay a visit. Buttercup here wasn't aware of the specifics or that Sarah and I would be relocatin’ back here," he explains to your dad.

But when Joel smoothly fibs to your dad, insinuating that you were aware of his impending move back to town, even though it caught you completely off guard, he seals an instant and secret pact between the two of you with a single glance. His deep brown eyes wink at you, sending a thrilling shiver down your spine. You realize you're in deeper trouble than you initially thought. And strangely enough, it's the kind of trouble you welcome with open arms.

In that fleeting moment, a silent understanding passes between you and Joel. With just a wink from him, your chest flutters with excitement, and a wave of anticipation rushes through you, leaving you feeling unexpectedly aroused at the prospect of having him nearby all the time. You're fully committed now, Joel's lie to his best friend serving as a shield for both of you, deflecting attention away from the undeniable tension between you.

"Sarah called last week," you fabricate, deciding to play along with Joel's deception. "As we were chatting, Joel mentioned something about visiting. It must've slipped my mind to mention it to you," you explain to your dad, hoping he'll buy into the white lie. Joel's low growl of contentment as he leans back, causing the leather chair to creak, reassures you that he approves of your little ruse.

Your dad's elation at the news of his best friend's return to their quaint little town is palpable, enough to overshadow any scolding he might have had for your omission about Sarah and Joel's supposed call.

But the truth remains: Sarah never called, and Joel's mysterious behavior is raising more questions than answers.

A surprise visit is one thing, but the intensity of Joel's gaze? The way he makes you feel? It's enough to give your long-standing crush on him a serious run for its money.

"But damn, Sarah will be here tomorrow?" your dad groans before chuckling. "A bit more notice would've been nice, but hell, it'll be good to see you, buddy."

"Listen, I've got something I can't postpone tomorrow. Maybe my daughter here could accompany you to pick up Sarah from the airport?" your dad suggests, turning his attention towards you.

Somewhere behind you, a strange sound escapes—it's you, emitting a sort of mewling noise that you know Joel catches, his smile widening in response.

"Sounds perfect," he agrees before you even have a chance to process it.

"Sweetie?" your dad asks, his tone sheepish now that he's volunteered you without asking if you were available.

You can only watch as the room seems to spin around you, nodding in agreement. "Yeah... sure, I don't have any tutoring sessions tomorrow."

"Perfect!" your dad sighs with relief, promising Joel they'll catch up later. "But I really need to get back to the shop. Are you alright here with her to help you settle into your new house with whatever you brought? The rest of your stuff hasn't arrived yet."

"Yeah, we'll be just fine," Joel assures in his trademark baritone, locking eyes with you.

You were so fixated on Joel's presence that you hadn't noticed the bags by the side of the home office.

"Sweetie? You sure you're okay to help? You look kind of..." your dad starts, but you take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself before replying, "Yeah, I'll be fine. We'll be fine. I can help."

"Alright then," your dad grabs his car keys, ready to leave the home office. He gives you both a final glance, kissing the top of your head. "I'll be back for dinner. Have fun, you two!"

You and Joel remain frozen in place, him on one side of the room and you by the doorway, both listening to your dad's fading footsteps and the rumble of his truck as he drives away.

You’re so fucked.

It's been six long months since you last saw each other, and for Joel, it's felt like an eternity. The day of your graduation marked the first time he laid eyes on you in over three years, and it was as if he was seeing you for the very first time.

You've grown into a remarkable adult, and Joel couldn't help but feel the overwhelming need to be there, not only for his buddy, your dad, but also for his sweet Buttercup. Witnessing his little girl all grown up and ready to embark on her journey into the world with her diploma was a moment he'll never forget. He'd never seen his best friend prouder, yet his gaze lingered on you for entirely different reasons.

Reasons and desires that had never crossed Joel's mind until that day. He couldn't resist pulling you close, feeling the warmth of your body pressed against his.

What was he thinking? Surely, everyone could see the effect you had on him.

But Joel wasn't thinking, he was acting on instinct. He was claiming what he knew belonged to him. Telling you he was proud of you was one thing, but he's still unsure if you heard what else he said about how good you felt in his arms.

Yet, he doesn't regret it. Because it was true then, and it remains true now. He just wishes he knew if you felt the same way. If you felt it in the same way he did. But how could you possibly feel the same way about him as he has about you these past six months?

Joel couldn't deny that there were many reasons why the relationship between you was complicated. For one, there was the age difference - you were more than half his age. Apart from having the kind of body he could grip, suck and fuck for a lifetime, additionally, you were his best friend's daughter, a bond that ran deep and could not be ignored.

That day, Joel took a risk, blurring the lines and potentially jeopardizing not just his friendship with your dad, but also the bond he shared with you by being so affectionate.

Surprisingly, you didn't seem to mind his gestures, and Joel was convinced that your dad hadn't even noticed. Despite the undeniable attraction he felt towards you, a feeling that lingered and intensified with every thought of you, Joel couldn't shake the worry that his actions might have caused a rift.

As days turned into weeks without any word from your dad, Joel's mind raced with doubts. He couldn't help but question if you had confided in your father about his behavior. Perhaps your dad had sensed Joel's infatuation with you, leading to a silence that spoke volumes.

Intrusive thoughts plagued Joel, wondering if you had been uncomfortable with his displays of affection. The fear that you might have someone else in your life to hold onto gnawed at him, leaving him restless and anxious about the potential consequences of his actions.

Joel and your dad used to share conversations daily, a bond that time and life's demands have gradually weakened, particularly with Sarah still navigating middle school. They both acknowledge the need to reconnect more often, yet something always seems to intervene.

But Joel's decision to visit your father in person wasn't impulsive; it was a deliberate choice, driven by a desire to stay for good this time.

No more fleeting visits. This time, it's permanent.

And it's all because of you.

Since your graduation day, you've occupied Joel's thoughts relentlessly. It's more than just an obsession; you're the sole focus of his mind, consuming his every waking moment.

You are the only thing he can fucking think about.

Joel would never dare voice his thoughts to your dad, not just because of his feelings, but also because your father had a history of using his fists to settle matters. If he even suspected a fraction of what Joel's mind was consumed with regarding his daughter... Well, Joel would never be allowed in your home, with your dad likely ensuring Joel carried a permanent reminder of his displeasure.

Despite his reluctance to keep secrets from his lifelong friend, Joel's motivation to act stems from a burning need that is beyond his mere desire to reunite with you.

He doesn't just want to see you again; he craves it with a fervor that borders on desperation. And the only way to satisfy this yearning is to summon the courage to ask for more.

Reconnecting with your dad was pleasant, but the sight of you, standing in the doorway of the home office, unleashes a torrent of emotions within Joel. It's as though he's been trapped in a deep freeze for the past six months, and your mere presence ignites a firestorm within him.

Every curve of your silhouette, every strand of hair framing your face, fuels Joel's desire until it simmers beyond control, all for you.

As you watched him, his gaze never wavered from your presence, taking in the way your chest rose and fell with each breath. He was grateful for the chair that supported him, as he felt the insanely hard erection you gave him.

Your natural grace and beauty had left him breathless, and he struggled to maintain his composure.

All from just being yourself. All without you even trying to do anything.

You really are just fucking perfect in every way.

You're now an adult, poised to embrace all the challenges and pleasures that adulthood entails. The mere thought sends a shiver of anticipation coursing through you once more, evoking memories of his touch on that unforgettable graduation day.

The intoxicating blend of his woodsy cologne, the creak of his well-worn leather jacket, and the soft fabric of his grey tee shirt against your skin linger in your mind, igniting a longing for more.

The sensation that floods Joel as he lays eyes on you in person after so long defies description.

It takes all his willpower to resist the impulse to stride over and scoop you up, succumbing to the overwhelming desire to claim you as his own and to drag you into your bedroom. But he restrains himself, clinging to the last shreds of his resolve, waiting for any sign from you that you're ready for his embrace.

When your gaze meets his, he witnesses the hitch in your breath, and he can't help but murmur, "Come here, sweetheart." Your response is like a magnetic pull, drawing you into his strong, steadfast arms. As you melt into his embrace, he's struck by the sense of finally being home. You are his home now.

Joel inhales the sweet fragrance of your hair, longing to whisper countless sentiments into your perfect little ear nestled so close to his mouth.

But all he can muster, without risking scaring you away, is a simple declaration in his southern drawl, "I missed you, my little buttercup."

You bury your face into his checkered flannel, your words muffled against his shirt as you confess, "I missed you too, Joel."

Your body instinctively gravitates towards his, fueled by both necessity and reflex. The memory of his last embrace has haunted your thoughts for the past six months, and as his massive, comforting arms envelop you once more, it feels as though you're picking up right where you left off. He feels even better than you remembered, and the mingling scents of his cologne and freshly laundered clothes stir a desire within you to cling to him forever.

Reluctantly, he releases you from the hug, clearing his throat as you take a small step back, managing to squeak out, “Do you want a cup of coffee before you get settled in your new house? You look kinda tired.”

“Sure,” Joel nods, and you sense him hovering behind you as you descend the staircase and enter the kitchen. You can feel his eyes tracing your movements from behind.

You busy yourself preparing the coffee as Joel sets his things down, knowing it'll provide the perfect opportunity to sit down and have a proper conversation.

As Joel takes a seat at the table, his gaze remains fixed on your curves as you move around the kitchen. In that moment, he realizes there's no way he can stay in this house for more than an hour, without confessing his feelings to you.

“You got a boyfriend?”

The sudden question nearly causes you to spill hot water all over your hand, and you freeze, feeling a slight tremble coursing through you.

“Well?” Joel's deep voice sends shivers down your spine, as if you're caught in the midst of the most exhilarating earthquake imaginable. Your mouth hangs open, unsure of how to respond.

“Boyfriend or not?” he repeats, his tone commanding. “Not,” you answer instantly, not minding the question one bit, especially when you see its effect on Joel.

“Good. Perfect,” he rumbles in a low tone.

Turning back to the kitchen counter, the clinking of ceramic cups fills the room, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as the heat spreads throughout your body and to the tips of your ears.

“Cream and sugar?” you ask, turning your head just long enough to inquire.

The sight of your body shifting under your clothes already ignites fantasies in Joel's mind, imagining all the ways he could pleasure you, even right there on your dad's kitchen floor if you desired.

“Joel?” you prompt, breaking him out of his daydream.

“Uh… Sure. Cream and sugar,” he echoes, noticing your continued blush and slight trembling as you prepare the cups. As you approach him with the coffee, the sudden sound of your dad's voice startles you, causing you to drop one cup, which shatters on the floor.

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" he asks, concern etched on his face as he rushes to the sink to run cold water over the affected area.

"I'm fine, Dad. Really," you reply, trying to hide your embarrassment.

"I thought you were gone," you add, unable to keep the annoyance out of your voice.

"I just forgot something. I came back to get it," your father explains, his eyes darting nervously between you and Joel.

Your father's gaze is fixed on Joel, his eyes narrowing as he takes in Joel's obvious concern for you. Anyone could see the way Joel feels about you, and your father's disapproval is palpable.

But you're not a child anymore, and you're tired of your father's disapproval. "Dad, I'm fine. You just startled me, that's all. Why do you always have to sneak up on me like that?" you ask, trying to keep the anger out of your voice.

Joel opens his mouth to speak, but the words don't come. He sighs and shakes his head, gathering the pieces of the broken cup and tossing them in the trash on his way out. The sound of his car speeding away speaks volumes.

"Maybe I should go," Joel suggests, but you wave off his concern.

"Don't worry about my dad. He's been weird ever since I graduated from college," you say, dismissing his concerns.

But Joel knows that your father's suspicions go back further than just this morning. He moves to help you clean up the mess on the floor, ignoring the broken glass and coffee spill. Gently, he takes your hand in his, wincing at the stinging and burn.

"Let's get this under some cold water," he says, leading you to the sink. You lean back against him as he guides your hand under the icy flow, your body yielding to his touch.

"Feel better?" he asks, his voice low and soothing. You nod, leaning into him as the cold water soothes your burn.

Joel's heart races as he holds you, feeling your warmth against him. He knows that your father doesn't approve of him, but he can't help how he feels. He's fallen for you, hard, and he's not going to let your father's disapproval get in the way.

"It feels better now," you whisper, your breath sending shivers down Joel's spine. He moves closer to you, feeling the pressure of your back against his aching cock.

"I can't help but notice how your body is responding to mine," Joel says, his voice low and husky.

"Should we start over?" he asks, leaning down so his mouth is close to your ear.

"You mean with the coffee?" you ask, playing coy. But your body is telling a different story.

"I mean starting over without your dad around," Joel clarifies, moving his hand to stroke the back of your neck.

You turn to face him, looking up into his deep brown eyes. "Just stay," you say, biting your lip.

Joel nods, his hands resting on your hips. "I'm not going anywhere, darlin'," he promises. "I'll be right next door, whenever you need me."

You stand there, close enough to kiss, but Joel holds back. He wants to savor this moment, to make it last.

"I meant what I said that day you graduated," Joel whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. "You feel so fucking good."

His words send a jolt of electricity through your body. You feel his arousal pressing against your back, and he grips your hips, pulling you closer.

You plead with Joel to stay, not just because of how the morning has unfolded but because deep down, you need him by your side.

The words you long to say to Joel linger on the tip of your tongue, but the rush of emotions leaves you speechless. Your heart races as you grapple with the intensity of your feelings, unsure of how to express them.

As you run your hand under the cold water, trying to steady your nerves, you suggest preparing the spare room as a distraction. Anything to divert your thoughts and feelings that are swirling inside you.

The tension between you and Joel crackles in the air, the unspoken desire palpable. His longing mirrors your own, creating a charged atmosphere that leaves you both on edge.

"Is your hand goin' to be okay?" Joel's voice is laced with concern as he looks at you, and you nod in response.

"It's just a minor burn from the coffee," you murmur, trying to focus on the task.

"Shall I make us more coffee?" Joel offers, already cleaning up the mess on the floor. But your attention is drawn to the undeniable presence pressing against your back, sending a rush of sensations through you.

Your heart races as you realize the extent of Joel's desire, his arousal evident in every inch of his being.

"I'm not tired," Joel says, his voice low and intimate as he picks up the broken pieces of the mug.

"And I meant what I said earlier," he adds, his tone dropping to a husky whisper that sends shivers down your spine.

The intensity of the moment overwhelms you, making it hard to focus on anything else. You should feel embarrassed, and remind him of boundaries, but the magnetic pull between you is undeniable.

"What did you mean?" you ask, a hint of defiance in your voice, craving his words like a drug.

His lips curl into a knowing smile as he repeats his earlier statement, his gaze lingering on you suggestively.

"You feel so good," Joel says, his words sending a surge of heat through you, your cheeks flushing with desire.

"Is that why you came back?" you inquire, emboldened by the charged atmosphere between you.

"What do you think?" Joel replies, closing the distance between you, the space crackling with unspoken promises and desires.

You feel trapped, torn between your desires and the weight of your past.

Your hands tremble as you press them against Joel's chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. You slide your fingers down, curling around a button on his flannel shirt.

"My dad, for Sarah," you croak, your voice barely above a whisper. Joel takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling beneath your touch.

"I didn't come back to town just to see your dad," he says, his voice low and steady. "But I don't want to make you uncomfortable either."

He pauses, taking another deep breath before he continues. "What I mean is, what I'm tryin’ to ask you, is could you have feelings for an older man? A man like me, maybe?"

His eyes bore into yours, a half-smile playing at the corners of his lips. You know what he's asking, and your heart races at the thought of giving in to your desires.

"I want to hear it from your lips," he says, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine.

You take a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. "I like you a lot, Joel," you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel pauses, his eyes never leaving yours. "But?" he prompts, giving you an out if you need it.

You look up at Joel, your eyes pleading with him to make the decision for you. But there's no hesitation in his gaze. He leans in, pressing his warm lips against your hand, and you feel a jolt of electricity shoot through your body.

"Does it feel like this?" he asks, his voice low and husky. You nod, unable to find the words to describe the heat that's building inside you.

"Do you really want me, darlin'?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. You moan, unable to contain your desire any longer.

"Yes," you gasp, your voice barely audible. "Yes, I want you."

Joel growls, a low, primal sound that sends shivers down your spine. He presses your hand against his stiff erection, and you can feel the heat and hardness of him through his jeans.

You trace the outline of his cock with your fingers, forgetting all about the burn on your hand, the hot coffee, and even your dad and his house. All that matters is the feel of Joel's body against yours, the heat and hardness of him that you've longed for since graduation day.

"Then come here," he growls, leaning down further and taking your face in his palm. You shudder one last breath of uncertainty before the warmth of his mouth over yours means neither of you will ever have to ask that question again.

Joel's lips are soft and tender, but his kiss is urgent and demanding. You feel yourself melting into him, your body responding to his touch with a hunger you've never felt before.

His hands roam your body, exploring every curve and contour, as if he's been waiting for this moment for years. You respond in kind, your hands tugging at his flannel shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours.

The heat between you builds, until you're both panting and gasping for breath. Joel's hands slip beneath your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin that make you dizzy with desire.

Joel can't help himself as he lifts you up and sets you down on the kitchen counter, your legs wrapped around him as he devours your mouth with his own. His hands roam your body, feeling the curves and contours of your figure as if for the first time.

You respond eagerly, your hands tangled in his hair as you deepen the kiss. Joel's touch sends waves of pleasure through your body, and you can feel yourself growing wet with desire.

Joel's hands slip beneath your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin that make you gasp with pleasure. You arch your back, pressing yourself against him as you feel his hardness against your thigh.

He makes you purr and moan, fulfilling every fantasy you've ever had. Your hands move down to his throbbing cock, gripping and squeezing him through his denim, but you both know this is just the beginning.

Joel has already crossed the line he set for himself, unable to resist the pull between you. He wants more than just a physical connection; he wants all of you, your heart, your soul, your everything.

He envisions a future with you, a life where you're by his side, where you're free to be yourself, to indulge in every desire and dream. He wants to give you a home, a place where you can be truly happy, where the two of you can explore each other endlessly.

As you catch your breath, Joel eases his hold on you, sensing the need for a moment of clarity. Your smile and the flush in your cheeks speak volumes, reassuring him that you're on the same page.

"Holy shit," you exclaim, breathless and exhilarated. Your hands rest on his chest, feeling the strength and warmth of him beneath your touch.

Joel exhales slowly, realizing he may have moved too quickly for you. "Too much, darlin'?" he asks with a chuckle, relieved when you giggle and nod in agreement.

But he sees the worry in your eyes, the need for understanding and space. You grip his flannel, pulling him close for a quick kiss, your words a mix of desire and uncertainty.

"I want this... I want you, Joel. I do," you confess, your voice filled with longing and hesitation.

"Just... not right now, not like this," you trail off, and Joel finishes your sentence, understanding the need for time and space to process everything.

He lifts you off the counter, noting how light you feel in his arms. He watches you pace the kitchen, a mix of emotions playing across your face. He settles on a stool, giving you the space you need to sort through your thoughts.

"I didn't think you were leading me on, and I didn't mean to be so forward," Joel says, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Take your time, process everythin’ darlin’.”

Joel's phone buzzes in his back pocket, and he knows it's your father. He takes a deep breath and answers the call, trying to sound casual. You've stopped pacing but still look dazed, as if you're trying to process what just happened between us.

"Hey, man," Joel greets, hearing your father's voice from his car, still on his way to the office.

"Joel, I'm sorry for how I acted earlier. I guess I'm the one who needs a nap, but I can't afford the time right now," he says, sounding sincere.

Your father has always been honest and upfront, and Joel feels a mix of pride and guilt as he listens to his apology. He knows that your dad will be upset once he finds out about the two of you, but until then, Joel thinks it's best to keep your secret a little longer.

"You don't have to apologize, buddy," Joel says, trying to reassure him. "When do you finish work today?" he asks, already thinking about the time they have left alone together.

More time to take things slow? Joel isn't sure. He wants to savor every moment with you, but he also can't wait to explore every inch of your body.

As your father continues to talk, Joel watches you, his mind filled with thoughts of the two of you together. He knows that things will get complicated soon, but for now, he's happy to be in your presence, to feel your warmth and energy.

"Yeah, I'll see you then," Joel says, ending the call and turning to you. "Are you okay?" he asks, taking a step closer to you.

You nod, still looking dazed, and Joel wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. He knows that the two of you have a lot to talk about, but for now, he's content to hold you, to feel your heart beating against his chest.

The future may be uncertain, but Joel knows one thing for sure - he's never felt this way about anyone before, and he's not about to let you go.

As Joel holds you close, your head resting on his chest, you finally voice the question that's been lingering between you.

"I guess we can't do this sort of thing around my Dad, huh?" you ask, your voice soft against his skin.

Joel strokes your hair gently, his heart full of emotions he never thought he'd feel again. He marvels at how easily and perfectly this moment has unfolded, how right it feels to have you in his arms.

"We probably shouldn't, not yet," Joel replies, his voice tinged with longing. He feels you nod in agreement, and he knows that keeping this secret will be a challenge.

Joel had left town to escape the past, to build a new future for himself and his daughter Sarah. But now, as he returns to the place where it all began, he realizes that his future is intertwined with yours.

He sees a future with you, a life filled with love and possibility. He dreams of a family with you, of building something lasting and meaningful together.

As he holds you in his arms, feeling the warmth of your body against his, Joel knows that this is just the beginning.

As you and Joel waste no time getting settled in the new house, the air crackles with anticipation. Joel turns the key in the door, and as you step inside, the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of desire.

Without a word, you set down his bag, and Joel takes your hand, pulling you close. He lifts you effortlessly, spinning you around in a dizzying whirl of passion and need.

The lock clicks shut, sealing you both in a world of raw desire and longing. The house feels like a sanctuary, a place where only you and Joel exist, at least for the next hour or so.

"Aren't you gonna show me around first? I had no idea the inside was so nice," you giggle, your head spinning from the intensity of his touch and the day's events.

"I thought you might like to show me around... your sweet fuckin’ body," Joel rasps in your ear before claiming your lips in a fierce, possessive kiss. Each touch, each kiss, ignites a fire within you, driving you to the edge of reason.

"You tell me if it gets too much, alright darlin'?" Joel murmurs between kisses, his strong arms wrapped around you. You nod eagerly, your body craving his touch, his presence.

With your legs wrapped around his waist, you gravitate towards the nearest soft surface, a luxurious leather sofa in the living room. Joel stops in front of it, but you're consumed by the need for him, the hunger for his touch.

You try to nod, talk, and kiss him all at once, but the overwhelming desire he stirs in you leaves you breathless and unable to form coherent words. "Yeah... fuck... yes, I will," you pant, your body arching into his touch as he explores every inch of you.

Joel lowers you onto the couch, his eyes fixed on you with a hunger that matches your own. He drops to his knees in front of you, parting your legs with a firm grip, his gaze locked on your body with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine.

“I’m gonna eat your little pussy, make you come until you beg me to stop,” he says in a firm tone.

His hands move with purpose, his touch igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you. You gasp and groan as he explores every inch of you, his fingers and tongue setting your body ablaze with pleasure.

As he delves deeper, his mouth and hands working in perfect harmony, you feel a wave of pleasure building within you, each touch pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

You writhe and moan under his touch, your body responding to his every move with a hunger that matches his own. The room fills with the sounds of your pleasure, the air thick with desire and need.

His elbows prop your knees wide, and half-reclined on the worn leather, you can't help but feel a thrill at the sensations coursing through your body.

The scent of old leather and his cologne mingles with the musk of your arousal, creating a heady mix that only heightens your desire. You're ready for Joel, and you know it won't take long for him to bring you to the edge.

With a rough yank, he tears your panties aside, the sound of fabric rending adding to your arousal. You never knew you could feel this horny, and every moment with Joel only intensifies your desire.

He takes a moment to admire your slick folds, his thick fingers gently parting your lips. You grip his silver-flecked curls tighter as he moves down to taste you, your body trembling with anticipation.

Your moans fill the room, mingling with Joel's deep groans of pleasure. His tongue finds its mark, and you can't help but cry out, your body writhing under his touch.

Joel's mouth covers you completely, his tongue replacing his fingers as he explores every inch of your sex. You're on the brink of climax, your body trembling with need.

"Be patient, darlin'," Joel whispers hoarsely, his voice filled with desire. He grips your thighs, pushing them wider apart until his massive head is pressed between them.

You shift your grip to his broad shoulders, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

"Joel... Joel," you moan, trying to tell him how close you are, how much you want him. But all that comes out are animalistic sounds of pleasure.

Joel's body quakes with silent laughter, his voice deep and reassuring as he promises you can come all night. You trace the outline of his jaw, your body trembling with need as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

If heaven exists, you're sure you've found it in Joel's arms.

AN: I'm such a fool to think that this would be a one-shot... ya'll this is now a mini-series. Don't worry... this will be a two to three-chapter kinda series. 🤍

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader series #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader tlou #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrostories #pedro pascal character fanfic

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lilacura · 2 months

Text

L-O-V-E | Huh Yunjin

pairing: yunjin x reader

>wc: 700

sypnosis: Misunderstandings cause doubts but love always has its ways.

You woke up alone in your dorm room, rolling over with a sleepy smile ready to greet Yunjin, only to find the other side of the bed empty and cold. Furrowing your brow, you sat up and glanced around but saw no note or sign of where she could be.

"Yunjin?" you called out tentatively, getting no reply but the echo of silence in response. A sinking feeling started in your stomach as you grabbed your phone, seeing it was Valentine's Day but no messages from your girlfriend.

After getting dressed in a lonely daze, you ventured out onto campus hoping to find her. Spotting her talking to friends in the quad, you hurried over only to freeze in your tracks as Yunjin glanced over, eyes meeting yours briefly before flitting away with no smile or greeting. A polite nod was all she offered before turning back to her conversation, leaving you feeling hollow.

Classes dragged on endlessly as you watched the clock, sending Yunjin texts that went unanswered. By lunchtime despair was setting in, thoughts running wild about what could have gone wrong. Picking at your food alone, you started to lose hope for the holiday.

Making your way across campus after your last class, head bowed low, you nearly walked right past the secluded rose garden without noticing the splashes of color amongst the green. A flash of familiar laughter caught your attention and you looked up, gasping softly at the scene before you.

Roses, carnations and baby's breath decorated elegantly around a checkered picnic blanket, upon which sat a bountiful assortment of food. And in the middle, holding a single rose, was Yunjin beaming brighter than the sun.

"Surprise!" she greeted, rushing over to take your hands in hers. "Happy Valentine's Day baby, I'm so sorry about this morning. I wanted our valentines date to be extra special." You could only stare dumbly as she cupped your cheek.

"Forgive me? I love you," Yunjin breathed, eyes shining with remorse and adoration. At those words, your heart swelled back to full capacity, doubts melting away as you threw your arms around her neck.

"I love you too," you whispered into her ear, feeling complete once more in her embrace.

Pulling back from the embrace, Yunjin met your gaze with a tender smile. One hand came up to gently cup your cheek as her forehead pressed against yours. You lost yourself in the depths of her sparkling eyes, lungs forgetting how to breathe for a moment.

Closing the tiny distance between you, Yunjin pressed her lips against yours in a kiss both chaste yet searing with emotion. Your eyes fluttered shut on instinct, everything around you fading away until there was nothing but the two of you, and this moment of reconnection.

Her kiss held the apologies and affection of the morning, the joy of reunion, and assurances of her enduring love for you alone. You kissed her back just as fervently, pouring your own heart into the kiss to say 'I forgive you' and 'I love you too'.

When you finally parted for air, Yunjin sighed your name against your lips, making you shiver at the pure devotion in her tone. Keeping your faces close, you opened your eyes to find her smiling so wide it lit up her entire being. At that beautiful sight, all traces of earlier doubt and worry vanished like they had never existed at all.

Yunjin stole a few more fleeting brushes of lips before taking your hand in hers once more. "Come, let's finish our picnic before the sun goes down." And with her hand securely holding yours, your heart swelled with certainty that this Valentine's Day ended up perfect after all.

a/n: this is so late im so sorry I had a calculus final

#le sserafim #huh yunjin #yunjin x reader #huh yunjin x reader #le sserafim x reader #le sserafim yunjin #gg x reader #girl group

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hollowdeath · 3 months

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Oh hello, I just wanted to tell you that what you wrote is amazing! I read it over and over and couldn't stop reading. You are soooo amazing! *((Ugly crying😭❤️))*

And umm.. I would like to share about the imagination in my head about Dark Harry Potter. He joins the Lord Voldemort and betrayed all his friends. When the war ended, the Lord's side Voldemort wins. Everything is in chaos but Harry ignores it all because he only cares about the reader, his old girlfriend. (Harry still loves the reader even though the reader hates Harry.) He might have requested that the Lord Voldemort gave the reader as a reward to him after the war. Something like that, and ummm, a drama that is both bitter and sad and angry at the same time full of longing for each other? A rough and sad lovemaking? 🥺

hi! thank you so much for requesting! i hope you enjoy!

pairing: dark!harry james potter x fem!reader AU (18+)

summary: harry's all-consuming anger successfully tempts him to join voldemort in the war, sending you, his girlfriend, away in an attempt to keep you safe. years later he asks for your return, and is met with bitterness and rage as you struggle to navigate your feelings for each other in a post-war world.

c/w: smut!!! angst!! slow burn! mentions/threats of weapons, violence, abuse, and death/murder. smut is all the way at the end (grinding, oral, penetration, submissive!harry & dominant!reader) lightly edited, not book/movie/canon accurate

word count: 12.6k

a/n: this is giving me manacled x star wars and i love it lol, so so so much fun to write. i tried to make the reader more angst-y and dominant than normal, so if you like this please let me know! sorry if the plot doesn't make much sense. i also started school this week so please be patient with me! going to try and start posting shorter blurbs/headcanons between requests <3

harry was standing at a window in the lord's manor, watching the street below him as people sulked aimlessly by. it was a typical, gloomy day, the clouds gathering heavily above. it had been raining for weeks, maybe even months at this point, and it was beginning to cast a permanent gray shadow across the city. not even the weather could escape the tragedies of the war.

though harry chose to not dwell on the war, he felt its lingering effects. even from his lofty spot in the comfort of the lord's castle, which he barely left anymore. its walls had become harry's second skin. so long as he had everything delivered to him whenever he desired, it was disgusting to him to even think of stepping outside.

yet still, harry could see the abandoned and damaged shops just outside the lord's gates lining the courtyard along the cobblestone streets. the burnt remains of what once was. the sunken-in faces of the remaining people in the city. the lack of light, the lack of life, the lack of magic.

there's a part of harry, a weak cry from deep inside his repressed past, that feels bad. he was once a young wizard with bright eyes walking the streets of these same shops. he once enjoyed the sounds of shared happiness, and found solace in the fact that despite his lack of, there would always be joy in the world around him.

however, as harry grew older, and the circumstances around him shifted, he found himself getting angrier more often. not just on a weekly basis over small interactions or mistakes, but all the time, from the moment he was awoken by his nightmares to the moment he fell back into them. harry simply had no room inside of him left for anything else. it was just anger. pure, unbridled anger that only caused annoyance at first, then small outbursts of irritation after a while, and, eventually, he couldn't look at anyone or anything without wanting to physically destroy it for no reason other than he was just angry.

harry was angry at the world for having magic in it in the first place. he hated the divide it caused between muggles and non-muggles, pure bloods and half bloods. he was angry that divide is what took his parents from him before he could even properly know them. he was angry he had to grow up in abuse and neglect under the guise of 'safety'. he was angry he never received an apology, an admittance of guilt, not even a hint of closure for the past that was still controlling his present.

the boy who used to risk his life to save hogwarts and the students inside of it would eventually be the same one to let them fall.

when voldemort came back, and harry's anger was at its worst, he knew there was a connection. he didn't know about horcruxes yet and he certainly didn't know he was one. and yet he knew, somewhere deep inside him again, that it wasn't a coincidence. there was a reason his anger was consuming him, and the reason was voldemort.

after cedric's death, harry had begun to spiral. the nightmares were worse than before, he felt deathly paranoid constantly, and couldn't escape the intruding memories of the graveyard. though harry had managed well enough afterwards, still suppressing his rage, he couldn't hide the change in his personality from those closest to him. ron and hermione were the first to bring it up, but, of course, harry had snapped and told them to mind the business that pays them. despite his resistance, they tried until the very end to help their best friend see through his anger, to remember what was right and wrong.

however, once sirius was dead, it was all over.

harry had simply lost any hope that was left within him. watching sirius fall through the veil, his eyes lifeless and cold, was like watching harry himself die. he didn't think he could get any lower, and then he watched the only family he had left be cursed just within his reach.

harry was never the same after that. when he sat in bed late at night staring at the marauders map in his lap, he thought about how much he hated this life that's been made for him. the boy who lived, the scape goat, the hero, our only hope. it was crushing. harry was just a boy. he wanted to live a normal life.

but he knew he never could. not after tom riddle, not after cedric, not after sirius. even if everything went away tomorrow and harry could just attend his classes and be with his friends, nothing would change. he would still be alone, he would still be angry, and he would still suffer from his traumas. what was the point in fighting for good or living to see the end when you would always end up alone?

except, harry wasn't alone, really. he had you.

if there was one thing in this lifetime, one thing throughout this entire war that could have saved harry, it was you.

you and harry had been classmates for a year or so before really getting to know each other, and started dating not long after. when you were around, harry knew there was something worth fighting for. though he may feel angry and everything and everyone and everything everyone said, harry could never truly be mad with you. it's like when you looked at him the anger was muted, numb, deep inside him, and as soon as someone would interrupt it was bubbling at the surface again.

you were worried about harry, of course, and saw the effects his anger had on his relationships with everyone else around him. besides you.

he remembers you clearly, still to this day, and just how upset you were anytime he lashed out. if he'd felt anything other than anger at that time, it would've been guilt. guilt for hurting you, for scaring you. guilt, but not guilty enough to stop.

the anger was stronger.

even when you asked him, begged him, please, harry, please stop letting your anger win, and even when he promised, swore on his own grave, that he would try harder to stop for you, he never did.

harry was beyond angry. he was spiteful. all he had ever been was kind, a pushover who gave everyone the respect he was never graced with. he's saved strangers who wouldn't spit on him if he was on fire. he's lost his family in their sacrifice for the greater good that now rested upon harry's 16 year old shoulders.

he was beginning to think the fight wasn't worth it.

not only did the fight for good no longer seem worthy to harry, the fight against it only seemed to become more enticing. why should harry continue to risk his life and sanity when there would always be fights of blood purity? why should he be the hero everyone else has always wanted him to be?

for a long time, the answer was you. you were reason enough for harry to keep fighting, to keep his anger under control. when he looked at you things made sense for just a moment, his suffering was worth it to see you alive and well. until it wasn't.

everyone has a breaking point, and harry felt like he had finally reached his. as the war had geared up to a point of no return, harry had to make a decision. he had always assumed his decision was already made for him since birth, but he soon realized he never actually had to follow this path set for him in the first place. he was free to do as he pleased. he wasn't dumbledore, he wasn't his parents, he wasn't even the hero everyone thought he was. he was angry. he was spiteful.

worse than that, harry was vengeful.

so, when he met voldemort in the woods during the battle of hogwarts to accept his death, harry instead offered him a proposal the dark lord simply couldn't refuse. harry potter, his living horcrux, would become his successor upon his death. harry would fight with and for voldemort, training to become the most powerful dark wizard in history, and to finally let tom riddle rest well knowing the world was in just as dark, evil hands as his own.

though voldemort was skeptical at first, naturally, as harry expected him to be, he could eventually see the darkness within harry nearly consuming him whole. he was as serious as death itself. he no longer had the desire within him to continue fighting for, what he saw as, a lost cause. voldemort was rather pleased with this news, though never expected harry to come around like he did. he hadn't even considered it, really. but who was he to deny his own successor?

upon harry's return to hogwarts with voldemort and his death eaters in tow, every single person who watched was stunned into silence. even mcgonagall, who had been instructing and encouraging the students all night in their fight, had become speechless and teary eyed at the sight. ron had to catch hermione, who nearly fell to the floor.

but nobody was as upset as you were.

you had already been sobbing watching harry walk off into the woods towards his own death thinking you would never see him alive again. only to watch him emerge from the same treeline with the enemy by his side. it's like you got kicked in the gut. you would've almost rather never seen harry again.

"harry!" you had screamed in a broken voice as he crossed the bridge, voldemort's snake slithering at his feet. you were running to him, breaking through the multiple arms that tried to hold you back.

voldemort tried to raise his wand to you, but harry had stopped him, telling him to let him handle it. he was suspicious at first, still not fully trusting harry's intentions just yet, but was reassured by the sinister look in his eyes.

harry looked at you. he remembers feeling a twinge of that same guilt from before, the tiniest spark of hope deep within his rage. he really did love you, at least at some point he did. you would've made all of this worth it, you would've been the reason to keep going. but not even you were reason enough anymore. for so long he had been ready to take his revenge on the world that failed him.

"harry, what are you doing?" you had asked him, voice shaking. you were almost whispering, your eyes nervously glancing towards voldemort every other second in fear for your safety. harry grabbed your hands but you pulled them back, a look of disgust coming across your face.

"come with me." harry had told you. your look of disgusted transformed into shock, anger, confusion, and guilt. there were mumblings coming from the crowd of students behind you. "what?" you had asked, nearly breathless at this point, your eyes searching him for answers.

"come with me, [y/n]. i want you by my side as i become the most powerful dark lord in the world." harry explained, taking steps towards you with an excited grin on his face, his eyes still dark with corruption. you were still in shock when he grabbed for your hands. he kissed your knuckles softly with a quiet, "i love you,"

he had meant it, but not like he used to.

it took a few moments of silence and some tense eye contact before you pulled your hands away, letting the tears fall again as you attempted to gather your words. "you can't do this, harry. i will never join the dark lord. you know this isn't right, why are you doing this? why? why?" you're practically begging for an answer as harry looked away, an irritated expression on his face, clenching his jaw together. your hands reached for his shirt and jacket, trying to shake some sense into him as you grasped them tightly and pulled him closer.

"don't you love me?" you had asked him in the most heartbreaking, soul crushing voice. your words were weak, but your sentiment was palpable. you were bloody, dirty, covered in scars from fighting, holding harry close to you as you begged him with wide eyes. not too much earlier in the year he would've folded immediately looking at you, so innocent and desperate, his last bit of hope in the world.

but it was already far too late.

"take her to azkaban," harry had announced, angling his head back to the deatheaters behind him, keeping his eyes locked with yours. your grip on his clothes loosened and shocked gasps came from the crowd. harry looked at voldemort, who was a bit puzzled by the situation, but backed up harry's real nonetheless. "you heard the boy," he snapped towards the men behind him.

the deatheaters walked towards you as you stepped away from harry. "no, no, no, stop!" you were screaming, trying to back away from them, but they had grabbed your arms aggressively and began dragging you towards the bridge. "[y/n]!" a few students had shouted, running towards you before their attempts were blocked by a wave of voldemort's wand. the students fell to the ground, watching helplessly as you continued to fight your way out of the deatheaters' grasps. harry stood still, emotionless, completely stoic as he heard your desperate wails and calls for his name disappear into the woods behind him.

the rest of that night or day or whatever it was has since been completely blocked out of harry's mind, forever. his rage had reached a level he didn't know was possible. all he could recall anymore is the blood, the screaming, the running, and the light of his wand in his hand. many students and professors died during that battle at his hand, along with voldemort's and the deatheaters'. the castle was then burned to the ground, signifying the end of the battle. hogwarts had never stood a chance.

and, now, harry stands in the dark lord's manor, staring at the abandoned buildings lining his street, and he's thinking of you.

he often wondered how life would have been if you had joined him that day. though his years since have been packed with death, fights, destruction, and chaos, there were moments alone or in peril where you crossed his mind like a gentle breeze. a simpler part of his past, a light in his darkness. your soft, kind eyes, wide with shock as you back away from him, fixated on the deatheaters coming to collect you. your sweet, melodic voice screaming and breaking as you were dragged away, fighting for your freedom. harry could remember the moment perfectly despite everything else in his life being a blur.

he wonders how you would have filled the role as his partner in crime after choosing him. two dark lords unstoppable against the forces of the wizarding world, fighting 'good' and spreading evil just as he had been this whole time. would you have succumbed easily to the temptation? would you be as dark as harry was? could you maybe even be darker?

but harry knew it was a fruitless endeavor from the beginning. he had wanted to ask you anyways, to at least give you a chance to make the decision to be with him, even if he already knew what your response would be. harry was a bit let down at first, hoping maybe there was enough love between you to push morals aside, but he knew he would never be that lucky. part of why he fell in love with you way before his anger began was your commitment and dedication to what you believed was right. that same trait would be the driving force behind his decision to lock you away.

harry knew you. and he knew you wouldn't stop fighting until your body gave out, and maybe even after that. he may have lost you by sending you to azkaban for the foreseeable future of the war, but he'd rather know you were safe somewhere solitary than spend his years wondering where your dead body had been rotting into the dirt all this time. though azkaban was desolate, dark, isolated, and torturous, it allowed harry to sleep at night thinking of your still-beating heart resting safely behind those impenetrable walls.

lately his nights had become more restless, though, as the thought of you still residing in azkaban began to sit with him. he didn't feel guilt, really, he knew it was what was ultimately best for you. but he did miss you.

after the war had died down and voldemort took his place as the rightful dark lord of the world, harry's anger began to subside for the first time in years. rather than rage fueling his insatiable desire to destroy, he felt incredibly numb and disengaged with everything around him. the desolate streets and grim sky and abandoned city outside the windows began to fit his mental state more and more. for the first time since he was a teenager, harry could see past the anger.

and all he wanted was you.

so, harry had reached out to the dark lord, who spent most of his time at his new ministry castle across the country from the old manor he let harry watch over. they communicated every so often, checking in on business and social matters, but otherwise never had to meet in person.

harry sent him a letter asking for your release and direct delivery to his household, barring from reason. he felt after the war he had lead with and for voldemort, he owed harry a singular favor all these years later.

it only took 2 days for a confirmation letter to be sent back to harry, signed by voldemort himself, dating your arrival for the next day.

harry had his house elf, jinx, make up your room, asking her to be sure it was comfortable and clean before your delivery tomorrow afternoon, and to also provide plenty of options for dinner.

harry spent all night thinking about you, wondering what you'd look like after all this time. how similar or different you would be from what he remembers. how you'd react to seeing him. he knew you well enough to know you wouldn't react well, likely needing an extended period of alone time to adjust being here before he'd ever get a civil moment with you. but he was up for the challenge, otherwise he'd never ask for your return in the first place. he was releasing his anger, and instead building his patience, if not just to hold you one more time.

there was a delicious smell filling the mansion as the clock drew nearer to your arrival. harry was dressed better than he had been in years, and had jinx make the usually desolate looking building feel warm and inviting. fireplaces roaring, warm lamps flooding the hallways, and the grand dining table set to perfection for 2 particular guests.

harry didn't want to make it too obvious, but it was hard for him to hide how excited he was to see you again. even if you were different, even if you hated him, all he wanted was to see you in person, his eyes locking with yours for the first time since the day you were dragged away at his command.

once the hour was upon him, harry could hear footsteps and voices on the second floor. his heart leaped, setting down his glass of wine before heading for the stairs.

"let go of me, let go of me," a strained voice was crying down the hall, the sounds of a struggle coming from harry's left. he saw two house elves, rather squat and bulky, holding onto the arms of a frail body covered in a simple striped prison dress.

one elf turned to harry and gave him a devilish grin, "ah, there's the man himself!" he growled, his partner turning as well. "sorry we were late, mr. potter, someone here wasn't too keen on leaving azkaban, for some reason," he apologizes, pulling at the arm he's holding.

you slowly turn your head and stop struggling, your eyes wide with fear and mouth dropped open. "harry?" you whispered to yourself, your knees nearly giving out beneath you before the elves aggressively pulled you back up.

the first elf groans, rolling his eyes at you. "where can we put her, huh?" he asks, his tone impatient. harry pulls a few gold coins out of his pocket and hands them over to both of the elves. "right here is just fine. thank you, boys," he tells them.

the elves happily accept the tips and drop you to the ground, quickly disappearing in a flash.

you're left heavily breathing on the floor of the hall, sniffling and groaning in pain before diverting your attention to harry. your eyes were still wide, your eyebrows creased in confusion as you tried to move yourself further away from him on your hands and knees.

harry gave you your space, but watched intently as you nervously increased the distance between both of you. your hair was long, tangled, greasy, and falling around you like a curtain. you were smaller than he remembered, your eyes sunken in and cheeks more hollowed than before. you were pale, and visibly dirty. the soles of your feet were nearly black.

harry felt a pain in his stomach, his blood pressure rising imagining how you lived inside the walls of the prison. he couldn't identify the feeling. it was different from anger, but it wasn't far off.

as you continued to back up, your eyes shifted to a widow on your right. you slowly gained the energy to lift yourself and reach for the window, throwing it open before attempting to stick your hand out.

your hand hit the open window like you had never moved the glass barrier. you continued trying to stick your hand and head out, hitting at the invisible barrier with all your strength, making frustrated sounds.

"there's a spell on the house, love. you can't leave, just for now, until we can work things out," harry tried to explain gently as you continued trying to escape. he took a step towards you and you stepped away, leaning on the wall for support as you began to cry harder.

"get away from me, get away, what the fuck, what the fuck is happening," you tried to shout at him, your faced turned away and other arm putting distance between you and harry. you were gasping for air, your voice stressed and broken, shaking your head as you tried to continue backing up into the wall.

harry still attempted to give you your space. he hated to see you like this. you were so defensive and scared of everything going on around you. he wanted to give you time to calm down, but felt you needed to know what was going on.

"[y/n]," harry said, causing your head to snap towards him with curious eyes. your arm lowered slightly, your knees still weak beneath you. "listen to me, okay? just for a second," harry tried to ask kindly. he hadn't realized just how long it had been since he talked to someone this gently.

you continued to stand defensively, your eyes scanning harry up and down nervously as your breathing slowly started to still.

harry sighed, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before turning his attention to you again. "i know this is a lot, and i know it's confusing," he starts, his voice unexpectedly shaky. "but i asked voldemort, and i had you released from azkaban. i figured you may like a warm place to stay, so i had you brought here,"

you still looked confused for a moment before you narrowed your eyes, your arm coming up once again to defend yourself. "what are you talking about? where are we?" you asked harry suspiciously, still scanning him from head to toe.

"my manor. well, the lord's manor, but, essentially mine," harry says a bit awkwardly. you gave him a look of disgust, leaning further into the wall for support. "why would i want to be here? with you?" you practically spat at him with hatred in your eyes. harry was unaffected.

"i know you don't. but there's nowhere else to go. i promise." harry tells you solemnly. your eyes widen a bit again, a flash of fear coming across your face, but the anger quickly returns.

"i'd rather live in rubble than prop my feet up in the dark lord's manor," you say sharply, taking a step towards him in attempt to intimidate him. though you weren't much shorter than harry, you were weak, and tired, and he wasn't necessarily afraid of your threats.

he took a step back anyways, giving you more space. "look," he says, his eyes turning to the floor before he can steady his breathing and reply. "it's just for now. if you really don't want to stay, i won't make you." he says softly before returning his eyes to yours. they're not as bright as he remembers them in his dreams about you.

"but," he says, causing your jaw to clench. "you will stay until you're well again. and it's not up for debate." harry tells you firmly, his tone not as gentle as before.

you swallow harshly, your stomach growling audibly as the smell of the food downstairs begins to settle into your senses.

harry notices this and smirks to himself before quickly returning to a neutral state. "now," he announces, straightening out his blazer. "until the food is ready, there's a room made up for you just down this hall and to your left. it has a bathroom, and clothes. take all the time you need." he says before promptly turning on his heels and heading downstairs, his heart still racing from his encounter with you.

sitting in the living room watching the fireplace in front of him, harry eventually hears the door of your new bedroom click open and swiftly close. not long after he can hear the plumbing rumble as you take your first shower. he smiles at the fact that you're finally in his life once more, even if the circumstances were completely unusual.

harry's nearly concerned and wanting to send jinx to check on you after 2 hours of running water before it stops, the sound of the bathroom fan taking its place. harry's relieved.

"jinx, could tell our guest the foods ready," harry tells the elf as she brings the last tray from the kitchen to the dining room. she nods to herself, shuffling up the stairs sluggishly.

harry's pouring another glass of wine in the kitchen and decides to pour you one as well. on his way into the dining room, he sees you standing in the entryway. you're dressed in a large jumper, oversized pajamas bottoms, and your hair is still rather wet plopped into a bun on top of your head. your skin is rubbed raw, your cheeks still flushed pink as you analyze the table full of food in front of you.

harry smiles at your shocked gaze, your stomach growling again as he tries to hand you your glass of wine. you turn your nose at him, taking a step back. he smiles curtly and heads to his seat, setting your glass with his.

"figured you might be hungry," harry says as he sits down, his plate made for him already. he looks at you, arms still crossed, nose turned away, but eyes peeking at the endless food at your disposal. he can tell you're trying to keep your guard up, but your stomach hasn't stopped rumbling since you came downstairs.

he gestures to your chair just across from him, a plate made for you as well. you look at him, your eyes curious but expression still tight. you carefully take a step closer to the table, but you're still weary.

harry gives you a sympathetic smile. "after tonight you can have any meal you want in your solitude. i just thought i'd be nice and host my guest for the first night," he tells you, catching your gaze.

your curious look quickly turns to one of anger. "i'm not your guest. i'm practically a prisoner again." you hiss, your eyes boring into his with contempt. harry can sense the rage building inside of you. he's familiar with the feeling.

though you were different in so many ways, your dull eyes and lifeless voice, you were also similar in your determined attitude. you had always been the type to stand up and take charge, which harry completely admired and was impressed by. he found your beauty to be most potent in your strong will and cunning mind.

he admired you for just a moment, looking down at him with enough hatred to send shivers over his body. you looked so young, your skin supple and smooth under the light of the candles and fireplace, your hair falling loosely to frame your furrowed brow. you were just as pretty as he remembered, even if your expression always contained a hint of sadness and fear around him.

harry simply smiles softly, sitting back in his chair. "i prefer guest," he says teasingly. you suddenly snap at him, grabbing for his steak knife and pushing your arm to his neck against the back of the chair, holding the point of the knife to the side of his neck.

if looks could kill, the knife would've been unnecessary. your eyes were nearly black as you shakily push against harry's throat. "let me out of here now or i swear, harry," your voice cracks saying his name. "i swear i'll fucking kill you," you spit, leaning further into your grasp him on, your jaw clenched tightly.

harry, to your surprise, just chuckles to himself, not even struggling to breathe as he looks up at you deviously. your eyes widen just before you feel your arms start to move for you, as well as your legs. your neck is strained as well, an invisible force pushing you away from harry as the knife drops from your hand.

you're suddenly released from the mysterious grasp, and you choke out a breath, looking back at harry. he's smirking, but trying not to let you see as his pointed hand lowers from you. he fixes his shirt and chair, gesturing again to your seat across from him. "as thrilling as that was, love, not yet. i'd like you to stay here for at least a month before i consider placing you elsewhere." harry states, picking his knife back up to place on the table.

you stare at harry incredulously. "a month?" you ask, your face turning red again. you take another step towards him but you falter in fear of him using the same force as before to stop you. you stumble as your mind races to gather your thoughts. "how…you…i'm not staying here for a month! this is insanity! how could you send me away like that and just bring me back like it was nothing? a shower and a plate of food and suddenly those 5 years in azkaban never happened?"

you're now shouting at harry with a broken voice, your emotions on high as the tears threaten to fall again. harry watches you, just watches, and simply gestures to your chair again. "just join me," he insists.

you go to yell again, but harry sternly interrupts. "we can discuss this another time. please. sit down." he commands from you.

your mask drops for a moment, a look of fear crossing your face before diverting your eyes away completely to your chair. your stomach growls again, your hand covering it to hide the sound.

it takes a few moments until you slowly make your way to sit down, glancing at harry before taking your seat. harry begins eating silently, and, not long after, you're digging into your first real plate of food in years.

harry can't help but smile to himself subtly watching you indulge yourself for a moment, the mask slipping again as you gratefully shovel spoonfuls of food into your mouth with a sigh of relief. he was glad you were eating, even if he had to put up a bit of a fight to convince you.

as harry finishes up, you're still making your way through your second plate. he stands, grabbing your attention and making you curl back into your seat. "jinx," he calls out before sipping the last of his wine. jinx comes to the table and grabs harry's glass and plate, turning to take them to the kitchen.

"[y/n], this is jinx," harry motions to the elf, who gives you a warm smile. you return the smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. "if you ever need anything, anything at all, don't be afraid to ask her. she lives to serve," harry tells you proudly, earning a slight look of disgust from you before returning a smile at jinx.

"this was a lovely dinner, ms. jinx, thank you so much, truly," you thank her honestly. she bows to you slightly before continuing her way through the doors to the kitchen.

you shoot harry a glare. "the harry i knew would've never kept a house elf," you say, your words dripping with disdain. harry ignores your statement, turning to the stairs before ascending them.

he leaves you alone at the dining table, closing himself off in the master bedroom for the night. just as he's finishing up brushing his teeth, he hears your door click shut. that night he fell asleep feeling more reassured than he had in years knowing the pretty girl he couldn't keep his mind off of was asleep just down the hall from him.

it had been a few weeks since harry moved you in, and he rarely ended up seeing you in the mansion. you were often locked away in your room, or taking showers, and harry only ever saw you when you were finishing up a meal with jinx.

you had become quite close with her, it seems, which harry found sweet. he was worried at first that you may be using jinx as a way to find an escape from the house, but after a while without incident, harry realized how silly the idea was. you truly could connect with anyone.

one of the only other times he saw you, though, was when he passed by the open library one night. harry had been restless, thinking about his past in depth, feeling emotions he couldn't place, and decided to watch the sunrise to clear his head. he took a quick glance through the doors before spotting you curled up on one of the couches, a book in hand, fast asleep beside a warm lamp.

harry stopped, taking a moment to admire you from afar. you had gained some weight back being here, which harry loved to see. your cheeks were full and rounded, your hands not as frail, and the color was coming back to your skin. your hair looked impossibly soft under the light, sprawled everywhere around your angelic, sleeping face. harry couldn't help the cheesy smile that overcame his face. he was just happy that you were okay.

outside of that, harry spent most of his time alone, thinking about you. you hadn't reached out to him yet, which he expected, but was surprised when a month came and went and you still didn't confront him. he hadn't made his decision just yet, so he didn't have an answer for you even if you had asked him. he saw you were doing better, but still wasn't confident in letting you go. not just for selfish reasons, of course, but he wanted to be sure you were equipped enough to live on your own.

but, harry had to admit, his heart raced when he heard your soft footsteps pass his door to the stairs. his mind went blank seeing your figure standing in the dining room with jinx, chatting over a plate of snacks together. his blood ran cold when he heard your soft giggle from somewhere in the mansion. like a beautiful ghost haunting his past.

harry knew even before he sent his letter to voldemort that his feelings for you had never truly gone away. deep under his rage, his unforgiving heart, his cold blooded nature, his love for you had always remained. but he was learning to accept your departure if you chose to do so. a final goodbye to the most beautiful part of his unsightly life. harry wasn't sure he could handle the idea.

he was struggling with his thoughts, the constant back and forth he was feeling about you. at first harry was sleeping better with you there knowing you were safe, but now he stayed up late worrying himself sick over the decisions he had to make now that you were actually there.

sitting in bed, staring at the rising sun through his window, harry's mind was exhausting him. he hadn't slept all night and could feel the effects setting in. slowly, he stood from the bed and slipped on his house shoes along with his robe. he quietly leaves his room to not disturb you so early just down the hall.

he walks to the opposite end of the hall towards the balcony, and takes his usual seat facing the sunrise.

harry contemplates here most mornings, but never comes to any radical conclusions. he doesn't know what to do, he doesn't know what's best for you anymore. he knows he selfishly wants you all to himself still, but also knows you deserve to live the life you want no matter what his opinion is. it's the same conversation with himself every time, and it leaves him confused and upset for keeping you here like he is. even if his heart is in the right place.

his thoughts are interrupted by jinx, who offers harry a cup of tea. he thanks her, but quickly calls her back to ask a question. "jinx, um…[y/n], how is she doing?" he asks.

jinx, a quiet house elf, gives harry a smile, and pats his shoulder. her smile is warm and reassuring, as well as her hand. as she walks off, harry smiles to himself a bit. he's not completely satisfied with the answer, but he takes what he can get.

finishing his cup of tea with the sun shining over the horizon, harry turns to head inside before being met with the sight of you standing at the open doorway of the balcony.

you're dressed in a simple long sleeve pajama shirt along with comfortable pants, your arms crossed as the morning chill sets into the air. harry's a bit startled at first, but gives you a polite smile, diverting his eyes and walking around you to leave you be.

"harry," you said softly, turning to him.

harry's heart dropped, but turned to you promptly with eager eyes. the way you said his name, your soft voice, he was already so captivated by you.

"can we talk?"

now harry was worried. this is what he's been afraid of since you got here. he's not ready to answer you. he doesn't know what he's going to say when you desperately ask him to leave and never come back.

"of course," he says calmly, gesturing to the balcony so you could sit together.

once you've joined him in watching the sun, you two fall into a somewhat comfortable silence as the soft wind whistles past.

"i never thanked you," you said quietly after a while, almost a whisper in the wind. harry looked at you, looking at the sunrise. your face was radiant. you were brilliant in the light of the sun, your hair still impossibly soft and beautiful, falling around you, following the flow of the air. harry was overwhelmed with the beauty your presence held in this moment. "you never had to."

you glanced at harry, studying his expression, before turning back to the sun. "it's also been a month." you state coldly. harry's gaze drops, sighing. "57 days, technically," he mumbles.

a few moments of silence pass again, leaving harry an anxious mess in his seat. he tried to think of a gentle way to let you know he still needed time to decide what to do. a way to tell you without putting his life at risk to your anger.

"well, as much as i hate to say this, you were right," you say, still watching the sunrise in deep thought. harry was shocked by your words, immediately sitting up in his seat to get a better look at your face.

you were stoic, your eyes fixated on the scene out beyond your reach. "what?" harry asked, not believing his own ears. a small smile crept to your lips, the first one he's managed to see himself since you've been here. his heart aches at just the hint of seeing it again.

"don't make me say it again, potter," you try to say threateningly with that small smile, your eyes falling to your lap.

harry is stunned into silence, watching you with careful eyes. "but, you were right. i needed time to be healthy again." you said to him, your back still turned. harry stayed quiet, allowing you to continue. "i was angry with you. i still am. i don't think it'll ever stop," you inform him, the coldness returning to your voice. "but," he was preparing himself for the rejection, the questions, the begging.

"i'd like to stay, if you'll have me," you offer in a slightly embarrassed tone, your face turned the other way.

to say harry was shocked at your request is an understatement. he was expecting you to have a plan to take him out if he had rejected your request to leave yet. he never considered the idea that you might actually want to stay with him.

"i'll have you forever, if you let me," harry responds, a small smile on his face as well. you shoot him a warning look. "not forever. just until i feel well again." you tell him, your voice cold once more. you turn back to the sun, now completely over the horizon. "figured you owe me that much," you say in an accusatory voice.

harry just smirks to himself. you could never be soft for long when he was around. but he appreciated that you felt you could ask him to stay, though you never had to in the first place. harry really would have had you forever, if you'd let him.

"stay as long as you need to." he says.

you glance back at him again, your eyes softer this time. you're analyzing him for a moment before turning to him a bit. "it took me a long time to understand why you sent me to azkaban," you tell him, your voice steady and emotionless. harry just watches you, admiring the light surrounding you.

"you would've never stood a chance in destroying the world had i been free," you state, your eyes still examining him. harry offers you another small smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes the same way. "you knew you were weak," you say.

harry's now analyzing your expression, your words swimming around in his mind. "i did," he admitted to you. "it was just easier if i knew where you were all this time," he says breathlessly.

your eyes narrow at him once more, the anger returning to your body language. "easier for you. i would've never done the same if the roles were reversed." you snapped at him harshly. harry believed you. he thought about it a lot in his nightly battles with his own mind.

"you're right," harry stated, still admiring you in your anger. you were upset, but gave harry a questioning look. your eyes softened only a bit. "i think about it all the time," he admits to you gently.

you're a bit puzzled by his admittance of guilt, but don't let it stop you. "i hope it haunts you at night the way it haunts me," you say sharply, your eyes dark.

"always has," harry says to himself, only making you more angry. "you poor thing. must've been so tough relaxing in this mansion knowing i was rotting away in solitary confinement." your voice is strong, powerful, a contrast to the broken words you gave harry your first day here.

"it was," harry says simply, sensing your rising impatience with him. you stood from your seat, towering over him as he continued watching you in wonder. "you evil little rat. you're just lucky my magic is restricted by this spell. i would've killed you in your sleep that first night." you threaten him, gesturing to the protection spell around the castle and balcony.

harry wants to stop himself, but can't keep the smirk off his face. this only angers you more, pulling your arm back and slapping harry square across his face.

he doesn't react, instead allowing himself to stay facing away from you. "i hate you," you state weakly, your hands balled at your side. harry looks at you, the smirk still playing on his lips. "i know," he says softly.

you frustratedly sit back down, turning to look back at the sunrise once more.

a long silence settles over you two, listening to the sounds of the city as it awakens around you. eventually, you stand, turning to leave harry alone on the balcony. you pause before you leave.

"i still never thanked you, harry." you speak softly, your back turned to him. he looks over at you, your curves glowing in the morning light. "you never had to," he replies, and you're off down the dark hallway.

for the next few months, you and harry live together amicably. he sees you around more often as you start to leave the confines of your room. of course the library was a place of solace for you, but he started to see you more in the living room, on the balcony, or in the dining room enjoying jinx's company. for a while you two exchanged polite greetings, simple glances and acknowledgements, before asking about each other's days, or commenting on the weather. it was agonizingly slow for harry, but he was breaking through your walls one way or another.

one day not long after you'd slapped him on the balcony, you sat in the living room with harry, across from his seat on the couch. he was surprised by your presence, but gave you a small smile over his book anyway. "jinx tells me you've been acting different," you'd stated bluntly, watching his face for a reaction.

harry put down the book he was reading, giving you his attention. "have i?" he asks. you were always examining him, your eyes critical but curious at the same time. "she says your anger used to be terrible. even worse than i remember." you lead him on.

harry bit his lip thinking about the years where his rage was at its worst. he tried not to dwell on them, and instead tried to focus on the newfound emotions consuming his life. but he couldn't deny the path of destruction he'd left while seeing red.

harry eventually nodded, his eyes distant. "it was," he admits, his voice just as lost in thought. you shifted in your seat. "you let it ruin everything, harry." you said softly, leaving him looking at the floor in disappointment. "i know," he admitted.

the silence between you was palpable. harry felt the weight of it on his shoulders before you spoke again. "i would hear about the things you did while in azkaban. the guard would tell me even after i asked him to stop." you inform him. harry can still feel your eyes shooting daggers at him.

"for so long i fantasized about being the one to kill you, to finally put an end to voldemort." you said wistfully. harry glanced at you, seeing a longing look on your face. "how brave of [y/n] to put her love aside to kill the dark lord's apprentice." you said in a mocking tone, leaning back in your seat.

harry watched you, imagining you in azkaban, dreaming of putting an end to his life, while he dreamed of freeing you. it was a fair trade, he thought, and not one he would argue against at this point. and it didn't go unnoticed that you mentioned your love for him, either.

"you still can," harry says, causing you to snap your eyes back at him. "excuse me?" you ask with a sneer. harry puts his book to the side and sits up, his feet planted on the ground. "kill me, that is. it's not impossible." he tells you with intrigue.

you're staring at him incredulously, your eyes always searching him. "you're…you're kidding, right? i mean, you took my magic while yours seems to be highly skilled. you really think i'd stand a chance?" you ask with a sarcastic laugh.

harry stands from his seat, taking achingly slow steps around the coffee table towards you. "yes, while your magic is weak, you are not, [y/n]. i've gone out of my way to keep the knives, fire pokers, swords, and hundreds of books on potions and charms out for your use, at any time, have i not?" harry questions you, getting closer now. though you would normally pull back from him, you stay seated, trying to process his words.

standing just before you, harry admires the curves of your face against the light of the fire. "with your nimble step and cunning wit," harry lifts his hand to gently put his fingers to your chin. the first physical contact he's had with you. unless you count the time you held that knife to his throat. "you could gut me like a pig before i even have the chance to squeal," harry's voice is soft but dark, your breathing caught in your throat at the contact.

as he backed away, harry could see the physical effect he had on you. your nervous blinking, your jaw tightening, hands trembling; he found it sweet he could still do that to you, even if you claimed to hate him.

after that day, harry felt less tension between you two. maybe being vulnerable around you made you realize he was never a threat to begin with. he didn't want anything from you, and he didn't care if you never wanted anything from him. as long as you were safe, that was all he cared about. he hoped you were starting to understand that.

though conversations between you were still tense and cryptic, there was a sense of unspoken comradery that felt nostalgic to you both. your serious, brooding angst matched with harry's calm, collected coldness made for an interesting match. it was never the same as before, you were both fairly aware it wasn't ever going to be, but there was an undoubted chemistry that still lingered from your teenage years together.

however, something else that always lingered during your interactions is your distaste for harry's actions. at any chance you can, you poke and prod at his past, partly to understand, he assumes, but also to test his limits. you were always cautious and suspicious of his submissive behavior when it came to this kind of confrontation; how could someone who was, at least at one point, so evil, so cruel and heartless, become so nonchalant about their past? who wipes out entire cities just to 'not dwell on it'?

this was always a point of contention between you, even if everything else until that point had been somewhat playful. it never so much upset harry as it riled you up, bringing strong emotions to the forefront, causing you to lash out at him. though he always stayed calm, he also always seemed to listen. he never disagreed with your feelings or sentiments, if anything he agreed with your hatred for himself. it's like that day in the living room when he tempted you with his death, and yet you never took the bait.

harry rather enjoyed watching you work yourself up, and admired how quick you were to defend yourself. he never wanted to upset you, of course, but sometimes he couldn't help his cheeky responses knowing it would get a look out of you that made his heart jump. it might not be the most gentlemanly thing he does, but something about your anger excited him. it was nothing like his vengeful rage from the past, but it had its own potency that ran a chill down his spine. harry was so used to everyone cowering away from him in fear of his power that he relished your open aggression towards him. it was thrilling, and it was exactly what he needed.

harry tried to remain respectful of his guest, but having such a beautiful mind and body occupy his space with him was hard to ignore sometimes. his eyes would wander, as well as his thoughts, and he had caught himself fantasizing about you a few too many times to admit. you were stunning, of course, you always had been, but there was something about you now that elevated your beauty in harry's eyes. maybe it was the dark, unforgiving coldness of your eyes, or the strong scowl that your expression rested in, or the underlying anger that was ready to bubble over at any point, but harry was completely infatuated with who you had become.

he knew how hypocritical it was for him to admire the parts of you that were forced out in your desperation to survive the decision he made for you all those years ago. though you seldom mentioned your years in azkaban, harry could see and feel the effects it continued to have on you. they weighed on him heavily, and though harry wasn't one to regret what's happened in the past, he wished he could've figured out another way to protect you at the time. a way that didn't dim the light inside of you the way that it has been.

but still, that light was there. when you smiled to yourself at your own quips, when you admired the food jinx prepares you, when you lost yourself in your books, harry could physically feel the light radiating within you. it was familiar, like an old hug from a friend, and was unmistakably beautiful.

sometimes he felt like a teenager again, discovering the parts of you that made him fall in love in the first place. your natural charm, your captivating eyes, the innate draw he felt to you simply by being in your presence. it was unlike anything he's felt for another person, before or since meeting you. but rather than two teenagers flirting over study dates, you were now two closed off adults with a complicated history and 'break up', if you could even call it that. it was nothing like the past, yet it was entirely too similar.

you and harry had been sitting in silence together in the living room, reading your respective books, enjoying each other's company. it was one of harry's favorite things to do with you now, and one of the only ways you two could be together without it ending in tension. neither of you talked, neither of you made noise outside of the occasional chuckle or gasp at your readings; it was a peaceful excuse for harry to be near you, and sometimes admire you from over the pages.

this night, however, you broke the traditional silence by asking harry a question you'd been keeping to yourself. "harry," you started. he loved the sound of his name in your voice, it was invigorating to listen to.

harry turned his head to you, his book still in his lap, noticing you've long since placed yours on the table beside you. "[y/n]," he responded with his typical smirk, returning his eyes to his book.

you cleared your throat a bit, your ankles crossing in front of you. "how often did you think of me," it was more of a statement than a question, your tone not as cold and questioning as it typically was.

harry knew what you meant, of course, and waited a moment before answering you. "i'd never stopped," he said simply. it was true, and it still is.

you turned to look at the fireplace, your knees bouncing out of the corner of harry's eye as he pretends to continue reading. "but you never came back for me," you stated. harry's eyebrows furrowed, glancing at you again before looking away to leave you with your words. "you left me there to die," you said, that familiar coldness returning to your tone.

harry let out a sharp breath. "that was never my intention, and you know that." he says without a reaction. you become visibly irritated, your jaw clenching with your fists. "you never thought about me," you insisted, your words heavy with contempt.

harry shut his book and threw it beside him, leaning towards you. you turned to glare at him, your nostrils flared. "i was lucky to sleep one full night in the last 5 years without a singular dream of you." he tells you, his voice as steady as his eye contact. "you haunt me like a ghost, [y/n]. you always will."

you're looking at him questionably as you stand from your seat across from him, now making your way towards him. "good. i hope you never forget about what you did to me. i won't." you hiss at him, your cheeks turning red. harry's mind races with you towering over him, leaning back in his seat to fully enjoy the view.

"how could i forget about you?" he quips, that same damn smirk making you grit your teeth. you take another, heavier step towards him, your fists trembling at your sides. "stop fucking doing that," you spit threateningly.

harry cocks his head to the side, looking you up and down. he likes seeing you like this, even if it scares him a bit. "what?" he asks, pushing you even further.

you step between his legs and lean into his face, only leaving a few inches between you. "that, you fucking creep. is this funny to you?" your voice is raised now, the anger finally starting to boil over again. "not at all," harry says, still smirking at your reaction.

"then wipe the smirk off your face and stop doing this to me, harry." you instruct him, leaning back to cross your arms in front of you. harry's biting his lip, not able to resist the lustful thoughts he's having of you in this situation. "doing what, exactly?" he asks, curious what you mean.

"this, all of this, harry. you look at me like a starving animal. you watch me around the house like a stalker. you say you think of me all the time and yet you've only so much as touched my chin." you rattle off, clearly frustrated with these thoughts you've kept inside. "you bring me back here and have me live like a princess when there's people outside who live like animals because of you and what you've done," you continue to raise your voice at him, now getting yourself completely worked up.

harry just watches you, like always, not disagreeing with any of your sentiments. as he normally doesn't, he knows you're a smart girl.

"and you're still fucking looking at me like that," you growl, your arm coming across his neck once more, like the first night you were here, holding him against the cushions of the couch.

harry doesn't stop you, as he never does, and instead enjoys the feeling of you kneeling between his legs in an attempt to further choke him. "i swear on my own life i'll still kill you, potter. what the fuck do you want from me?" you interrogate him, your dark eyes searching him for answers.

the smirk on harry's face only grows, causing you to push further into his throat. it's ironic how much he wants from you right now that would only further put his life at risk in your hands.

"i…never wanted…anything…" harry chokes out. he knows he's stronger than you and could easily escape your grasp, but he enjoys the feeling of letting you have control over the moment, and over him.

"that's a fucking lie," you say through gritted teeth, getting nose to nose with harry. "tell me what you want." you insist.

harry's heart is racing, his mind going blank from the lack of oxygen, and an inconvenient erection growing through his trousers. he could tell you so many things he wants, how many nights he's spent imagining you on top of him like this once again. he knows it would only anger you more, and he was almost tempted by that thought alone.

after a few moments of harry struggling to keep his eyes focused on you, you could feel something against your thigh that caught your attention. glancing down, your weight on harry's throat lessened enough for him to breathe slightly. you looked back up at his eyes with a look of confusion and shock before quickly returning to anger.

"seriously? are you fucking turned on right now as i'm threatening your life?" you ask him with disgust, slightly pulling away. harry's cheeks flush as he tries to catch his breath, your arm still resting across this collarbone. he stays quiet, his eyes glancing between you and his lap.

you scoff at him. "you're so pathetic, potter. how you were ever a leader of anything is a mystery to me." you ridicule him, an amused smirk coming across your own face.

your condescending attitude only fuels harry's excitement more, trying not to let his expression expose how much he's enjoying this.

"it's almost like you want me to kill you," your voice is quiet but dangerously cold, giving harry goosebumps as your breath falls across his blushing face. he tries to stop it but his body can't resist a low whine being forced from his throat.

your eyes fall to his lips for just a moment before you lean into them, surprising harry with a hungry kiss as you relax your weight onto his body. more moans escape harry's mouth as you roughly force your tongue past his lips. his hand naturally finds your waist, but you slap it away harshly with your free hand. "no touching." you warn him, your lips brushing against his.

"yes ma'am," harry responds.

you give him a look, your other leg kneeling beside his as you straddle his thigh, your skirt falling perfectly over his knee. "i still hate you," you growl, choking him against the couch once more. "i know," harry says breathlessly, staring at you like a helpless puppy.

forcing him into a suffocating kiss, you eventually let harry breathe as your lips find his neck, your teeth sinking into his skin and hands grasping his shoulders tightly. he groans at the pain, earning a slight roll of your hips on his leg. harry wants nothing more than to touch you right now, guiding your hips into his body, pleasuring you like he's wanted to for so long. but for now, he's just glad you're kissing him, and enjoys the feeling of your breath against his bruised skin.

"shirt off." you command, sitting back to observe the puddle harry's become in your grasp. he wastes no time taking off his sweater, throwing it behind him as your eyes trace over his scarred torso. your cold gaze softens at the sight, your fingers tracing the healed wounds carefully.

for a moment, when you glance at harry through your eyelashes, he feels that same love you shared as kids. the soft, innocent admiration that came with inexperience. for just one moment, nothing was complicated, and there was no history. you were discovering harry all over again, like he had been with you.

the moment didn't last for long as your gaze hardened once more looking at him. you stood from your straddling position, much to his disappointment. he was ready for you to end the moment and leave, but you didn't.

"on your knees." you instructed him. again, harry wasted no time as he sunk to his knees in front of the couch, eye level with the hem of your skirt. he looked up at you eagerly, hardly believing the privilege he had to see you above him like this.

harry's heart was racing as you lifted your skirt to expose your panties to him. his eyes never left yours, his breathing hitching at the beauty just in front of his face. his hands were patiently folded in his lap, aching to grab every part of you.

you slowly lifted one thigh onto harry's shoulder, reaching down to take the glasses off his face for him, setting them to the side. "now," you told him, your voice seductive as you lean your weight into him once more. harry holds his shoulders steady, his mouth close enough to your soaked pantines to nearly taste you already.

"let me ride your face," you coo, your hands finding their way to his cheeks as he continues staring at you with hungry eyes. "it's the least you can do for me," you smirk, your voice still chillingly cold and cryptic.

harry lets out a sigh of relief and desperation, eyes glancing at your panties before returning to your gaze. you slowly push his open mouth onto you, not able to hold back a sound of relief yourself.

harry's eyes flutter shut as your hips roll onto his face, losing himself in your smell and taste. your fingers tangle into his hair to keep him in place, soft, breathy gasps falling from your lips as you watch from above.

after a minute you become too desperate and pull your panties aside, instructing harry to hold them as you force his mouth onto your dripping pussy. harry listens like a good boy and holds the fabric, his hand also taking the chance to grip your inner thigh. a deep moan escapes your throat at the feeling.

harry's tongue quickly works its way across your arousal, enjoying every part of you as he pushes himself further into your pussy. your hands try to pull his hair back to relieve some of the overwhelming feeling, but harry doesn't let you control him for once. he's desperate to please you, his hunger growing the more of you he's allowed to have.

harry's other hand grabs for your skirt to hold it above his head, opening his eyes to meet your gaze. your face is twisted in pleasure, lips bitten, eyes glazed over as you watch harry disappear between your legs.

harry moans at the sight of you, sending shivers across your skin. you moan, biting your lips closed, your hips stuttering against his mouth. "fuck," you mumble, earning another moan from harry as his tongue circles your sensitive clit.

a hand rushed to your mouth as you attempt to hide your filthy noises, the feeling making your eyes roll back. you're trying to mask your pleasure, but harry can see right through you.

you finally successfully pull his mouth off of you, lips swollen and wet as his head rests in your grip. "good," you say breathlessly. your voice falters a bit. you take your thigh off harry's shoulder, again, much to his disappointment.

"sit," you tell him, gesturing to the couch once more. harry complies, returning to his spot on the couch behind him. you reach forward and unbutton his pants, pulling them down a bit with his assistance. you can see his erection through his briefs, causing you to smirk a bit before returning to your neutral expression.

"no touching," you remind harry as you position yourself to straddle his hips, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. harry's sure you can hear his heartbeat racing under your control.

you start grinding your soaking wet panties against harry's clothed cock, your mouth falling open with his at the sensation. the light of the fire behind you leaves harry with the beautiful sight of you glowing in his lap, your warm skin pressed against his as your breathy moans fall into his neck.

harry can hardly take the teasing any longer, his moans becoming needier the harder he gets under you. "fuck, [y/n]," his voice is deep with desire, his head rolling back once your roll your hips into him harshly. you moan at the sound of your own name, your hands returning to his shoulders as your nails dig deep into his skin.

"that's right, say my name," you smirk, grinding into harry at a faster pace. "so pathetic," you remind him.

harry continuously lets your name fall from his lips as you watch him, a helpless, desperate mess beneath you. he loves the feeling of letting you use him any way you want to.

soon you can't wait much longer, and you pull out harry's cock from his briefs. the feeling of your hand grasping his shift makes harry's hips buck up involuntarily, silently asking for more.

you can't help but chuckle at just how eager he is. you're more than enjoying the control and effect you have over him.

"now," you say again, causing harry to look back at you with needy eyes. "you're gonna let me use you until i cum," you tell him, teasing yourself with the feeling of him against your wet pussy. harry's eyes nearly roll back again as he nods for you, his lips parted with uneven breaths.

you slide harry inside of you, adjusting to the feeling as harry's head falls back once again in pleasure. "so fucking wet," harry sighs softly, nearly whining. once your hips lower completely onto his length, you start to ride harry slowly, still adjusting to him. he's a full blown whining mess beneath you, his chest flushed and heaving as your pussy tightens around him.

you take in the sight of him, your eyes exploring every sweaty part of his body as you continue riding at a slow pace. you unwrap your arms from his shoulders, leaning back into your hips. "take my shirt off," you tell harry.

his eyes open again, looking at you eagerly. his hands nervously begin lifting your shirt, holding the fabric carefully between his fingers, and savors the sight and feeling of pulling it off of you, his eyes glancing at your chest before locking with yours again.

"so beautiful," he tells you, your skin looking deliciously soft in the warm lowlight. "i know, now be quiet," you shut him up, picking up the pace of your hips.

harry's eyes narrow at you, the intoxicating feeling of you wrapped around his cock only making him hungrier for your pleasure. the sight of you bouncing in his lap, your breasts just in front of his face as you lean your hands next to his head on the back of the couch.

"open," you tell harry.

he doesn't have to be told twice before his lips part, his tongue eagerly waiting for you. you guide your nipple into his mouth, your hips rolling onto harry's cock in circles. his teeth and tongue tease the sensitive skin, your pussy gripping harry even more and earning a low growl from his chest. his hands remained at his sides, but he wanted nothing more than to feel you everywhere on top of him.

you start riding harry once more, his teeth still gripping your nipple making you whine at the feeling. "fuck," you let the word slip out, your own teeth sinking into your bottom lip. harry's more than aroused at your reaction to him, his cock aching inside of you to release.

you pull harry's head back by his hair, forcing him to look up at you. you reach for his glasses that you sat down earlier, returning them to his face delicately. harry appreciates the gesture and can better see the pleasure in your eyes, a soft smile falling across his lips.

"so pretty," he whispers. he can see the blush you try to hide, looking away from his eyes and down at your hips.

you start groaning in frustration, your grip on his hair tightening, causing harry to wince. "you're gonna make me cum," you tell him through broken moans, your thrusts becoming uneven. harry can feel you tightening around him again. he groans at the feeling, your name slipping from his mouth again and again. this only makes you fall apart more, high pitched whimpers coming from you as you chase your high.

you soon sink into harry's neck, your cries of pain and pleasure falling across his skin as your legs start to shake. you can't even form words as your body feels the waves of intense pleasure from each thrust onto harry's cock. your hands move to his shoulders again, holding onto him for stability as you continue to ride out your climax.

harry grows impatient at the feeling of your orgasm and watching you break down into him. he finally grabs for you, moving your hips to the couch beside him, staying inside you while you gasp at his movement. he kicks off his pants and adjusts himself between your legs.

"harry," you try to protest, your voice weak and shaky. "just let me do this, darling," he growls, his hips becoming flush against yours as he pushes his cock completely inside of you. you let out a gasp, your hand slapping over your lips once more.

harry hungrily digs his cock deeper inside of you with each slow thrust, his hands holding himself up above you as he watches his cock easily slide in and out of your soaking wet pussy. he folds your legs back as he sinks even deeper into you.

"holy fuck," he groans, his breathing heavy, hands gripping the back of your thighs to keep himself steady. "so beautiful, [y/n]," harry tells you again, his droopy eyes focused on your face twisted in pleasure.

you look at him, your eyes full of lust, but still cold as ice. "i…hate you," you remind him through strained breaths, struggling to take his entire length, still glaring at him.

this pushes harry over the edge, his hips quickening until he feels himself start to unravel. he pulls out of your warm pussy and cums on your stomach, groaning at the sight of you below him.

you gasp at the feeling, looking at harry with shock. "did you just cum from me saying i hate you?" you ask, your tone mocking his desperation. harry nods, still stroking his cock slowly, his other hand remaining on your thigh as his moans quiet down.

"you're disgusting," you tell him coldly, but harry can see the smirk on your face and the lust in your eyes. he watches you below him, smirking in return.

"and you love it."

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tarotwithavi · 9 months

Text

Letter from your soulmate

How to choose a pile?

Take a deep breath and gently close your eyes. Politely request your spirit guides to reveal the appropriate pile meant for you, then open your eyes. Whichever pile captures your attention is the one meant for you.

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Pile 1

My lovely apple pie,

As I sit here, pen in hand, my heart overflows with emotions for you. I want you to know that I understand how incredibly challenging and exhausting life has been for you lately. I can feel your pain, and it pains me deeply too. I yearn to be there for you, to hold you close, and to be your source of strength and comfort. Every tear you shed echoes in my soul, and I wish I could wipe them away. The distance between us feels like an insurmountable obstacle, but please believe me when I say that I would cross oceans and traverse mountains just to be by your side. However, I also realize that now might not be the ideal time for us to fully come together. We both need to heal, to mend the wounds of the past, so that we can create a love that is pure, unburdened by old hurts.

Always remember that even though we might not physically be together, I am there with you in the depths of my heart, forever connected in the 5D. In moments of doubt or despair, recall the strength of our love and how much you mean to me. You are more precious to me than words can ever express. I confess that my love for you is so profound, it sometimes scares me. My protective instincts arise because I cannot bear the thought of anything or anyone causing you harm. And yet, I know I must let you be, let you experience life's journey and growth, but please know that my love is unwavering.

As time passes, and we heal, I hope we can build something magical together, something that surpasses all expectations of love and happiness. Until then, I'll be waiting, cherishing every moment we've shared, and dreaming of our beautiful future together.

With all my love and devotion,

Pile 2

My Dearest creampie ,

I hope this letter finds you well, though my heart feels heavy knowing that you're not taking proper care of yourself. Witnessing you neglect your own well-being pains me deeply, and I can't bear to see you hurting, physically or emotionally. Please know that I'm here for you, always ready to lend a listening ear or a comforting embrace. I understand that you might be going through a tough time, and your anger is justified. However, I plead with you not to direct that anger towards your own body. It's a vessel that carries your beautiful soul and deserves to be treated with love and care. Take a moment to breathe, to pause, and let the anger subside. Embrace the world's beauty, for there's so much joy and wonder waiting for you.

Just today, I took a leisurely walk and stumbled upon the most enchanting garden. Butterflies danced around, birds sang sweet melodies, and the fragrance of blooming flowers filled the air, blessing the entire place with serenity. In that moment, my heart longed for you to be there by my side, your gentle touch as I lay my head on your lap, listening to you speak passionately about the things you love. You are the light in my life, and I cherish every moment we share. I love you with all my heart, and my affection for you grows with each passing day. You deserve all the love, happiness, and beauty that this world has to offer. And one day, I promise to show you just how much I love and adore you in every way possible.

Please take care of yourself, my love, for your well-being means everything to me. I'll be here, holding you close in my thoughts, sending you all the love and support you need. Remember that you're never alone in this journey, and I'll always be here, ready to walk beside you, hand in hand.

With all my love and devotion,

Pile 3

My dear pumpkin pie

I hope this letter finds you well and fills your heart with warmth. The wait has been long, but I promise it was worth it. You are the missing piece in my life, and I can't wait to finally hold you in my arms. Your patience and dedication have touched me deeply. You've shown me what true love is, and I promise to cherish and protect our bond with all my heart. From the moment we meet, my devotion to you will be unwavering, and my love for you will only grow stronger with each passing day. As I think of our future together, I can't help but smile at the countless adventures we'll embark on. With you by my side, life will be an exciting journey filled with joy, laughter, and love.

In your presence, time seems to slow down, and every moment becomes magical. Your smile brightens even the darkest days, and your laughter is music to my soul. You are the light that guides me through life's ups and downs, and I promise to be your constant support in return. Know that I am here for you, no matter what life throws our way. Together, we can overcome any challenge and savor every beautiful moment that life has in store for us. I can't wait to see the world through your eyes and share my dreams with you. Your dreams are my dreams, and I promise to do everything I can to help them come true. With each beat of my heart, I am reminded of the love I hold for you. It's a love that knows no bounds and only grows stronger with time. You are my everything, and I am forever grateful to have you in my life.

Until we meet, my love, know that you are always in my thoughts and prayers. I eagerly await the day when our souls will finally unite, and we'll begin our beautiful journey together.

Yours forever,

#pick a crystal #pick a gif #pick a picture #pick a photo #pick a card #pick a pile #tarot reading #tarot cards #free readings #free tarot #tarot #tarotblr #tarotwithavi #tarot witch #oracle reading #future lover #future spouse reading #soulmate reading #love reading

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prolix-yuy · 3 months

Text

Beautiful Release

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: You and Din have an agreement. Simple, clean, easy. But not this time.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, IT'S PEGGING DIN TIME! Anal sex (m receiving), rough sex, sex toys, fingering (m receiving), handjob, frottage, blowjob, swallowing, cumshot, mentions of oral sex (f receiving), mild dubcon (Reader isn't aware of Din's mental state and stops the session to re-negotiate boundaries), painful sex, sex as self-flagellation, hurt/comfort.

Notes: Welcome to my addition to the Peg That Middle Aged Man Event 2024! This idea had been bumping around in my brain and this gave me the perfect excuse to write it. Thanks @wannab-urs for organizing this event, making the gorgeous banners, and giving me a chance to live my fantasies after S3 gave us the most delicious kneeling restrained Din image. I will never forget it, it's burned into my brain forever.

Set after S2 and before The Book of Boba Fett.

Cross-posted on AO3

He’s come to you before, but never like this.

Din always treats your encounters like serendipity, but from the first time you’ve known how far from the truth that is. He finds ways to drift into your path, tilting his helmet like he never expected you to be at this spaceport, which you prefer for its discretion, or in this cantina, which serves a hell of a barium fizz. The niceties always devolve into the silent request, which you never fail to fulfill.

But now, there’s a holomessage blinking on your control panel.

Send me your coordinates. Usual encoding.

It’s brisk, cold, mostly to protect you both, but even then something’s off. He’s never admitted to seeking you out. Something stirs deep in your stomach, consulting the encoding slug he gave you ages ago in case you ever needed him. Funny, the first time you’d use it would be because you think he needs you.

Your winding relationship with Din Djarin began at the business end of a blaster, but you can’t fault him for that. The ship you were flying then had all the hallmarks of a slaver vessel, but when he found your crew of rebel sympathizers he lowered his weapon. One escort and a few short-lived conversations later, and you’d forged a razor-thin alliance.

Your paths wound their way across and through each other for over a year, and in that time Din warmed to you. He gave you his name, his allegiances, his contacts if needed. In return you forged documents and built jammers for his ramshackle ship. Mutually beneficial, and after a time pleasantly warm. His laugh always surprised you, a low chuckle when you turned a phrase just right on him.

And the kid! The curious little gremlin that had been accompanying him more in recent times did help to smooth the rough spots. Grogu’s presence always brightened your days, brief moments of pure joy from his tireless antics. Din seemed to be ever the exasperated protector, but when he tucked Grogu into his arm his aura glowed.

However, the times when Din “stumbled” upon you with seemingly no purpose had little to do with play dates or trades. Well, maybe only in the most euphemistic sense.

It was on a cargo run - cargo being more frightened people fleeing under the guise of your fake shipping business - that Din first encountered what would bring him back to you time and time again. There was a man among the stowaways who took an interest in you, the feeling mutual. He wound his way around like a lothcat in heat, and when you whispered how you might be able to pass the time he enthusiastically agreed.

You weren’t much of an exhibitionist, but the ship wasn’t meant for privacy. So when Din happened upon you bending the man over a cargo crate, your strap slickly splitting him open as he moaned behind your clamped hand, you did feel some mild embarrassment. You weren’t sure how long he watched you thrust into the other man, but the little cough that alerted you to his presence made you turn and take him in.

He was clearly affected, hand gripping his belt as the other clenched by his side. Fascinating. The Mandalorian had surprises in store.

The man garbled about sucking Din’s cock, letting the Mando cum on his face while you pounded his tight hole, but you stuck your fingers in his mouth and picked up your rhythm again. You’d met other Mandalorians in your travels, but Din’s particular religion was much stricter than most. He might take hefty offense if you assumed any of the armor could come off. Instead you let him watch without comment as your companion came all over the side of the cargo crate, soothing him through the aftershocks. As you cleaned him up you noticed your audience fled, and you determined never to speak of this.

It would take two months for Din to come to you.

“People like this?” he asked when you showed him your strap and assortment of attachments. You shrugged, picking out the one you secretly thought he’d enjoy.

“Some do, some don’t. It’s just one of many things I like,” you said, leaning against your bedroom wall as he filled the small space with restless energy. “I’m sure you like plenty of things too.”

There it was. The little roll of the shoulders and flex of a hand that told you Din wasn’t as inexperienced as some would believe.

“Never tried something like this,” he mumbled, and you smiled under the knowledge that he was nervous. Din Djarin, feared throughout the galaxy, and dearer friend than you ever expected, had something he wanted and didn't know how to ask for.

“Would you like to try it?” you said, taking the last barrier away. He tilted the helmet down, fingers restless on his hip.

“Yes.”

That first night you didn’t fuck him, though by the end he was so close to begging you almost came from the sound. Instead you opened him up with your fingers, got him used to the feeling of fullness and how to connect it to pleasure, while he laid on your bed and gripped the sheets so hard you thought he’d rip them. His pants bunched across his thighs, you got to admire the cords of muscle rippling as you made him shake and choke. His cock, velvety and weeping on his stomach, made your mouth water, but you only offered to suck it when he was just on the precipice. Your hot mouth wrapping around his head, two clever fingers stroking his prostate, tipped him over into bliss as he shouted his completion. Pride swelled in your chest at his belabored breath, chestplate heaving and thighs quivering on either side of your head.

When you returned from cleaning up he was already dressed again, despite your protests to wait and let you ease him down from this new experience. He thanked you, awkwardly, and left quickly. Lying in the same bed that night, still smelling of him, you reasoned with yourself. He probably had a lot of feelings to sort out, both around his pleasure and the fact that you gave it to him. You hoped he trusted you enough to know you’d be discreet. And, as your fingers slid into your underwear, you hoped he’d seek you out again.

It was only a week before you were at the same spaceport again, his heavy boots clanking up your ramp. You tried to hide your own nerves, but when Din stood before you and let the visor drag up and down your body, a delicious grin crept onto your face.

“Ready to try more?”

Indeed he was.

He enters your ship without preamble, a brief flit of concern clouding your features at how quickly he disarmed your security measures. You weren’t expecting him for another hour. He must have jumped to get to you.

It’s thrilling, to know the Mandalorian’s need is so great.

But when he enters and closes the door behind him, the energy is…off. Not seductive, teasing, edged like the other times. No, he’s holding his body so tight and so still. There’s nothing aggressive in it, but you glimpse why his enemies fear him. Without a face, and with so much obscuring the flesh beneath, you’re not sure when he’ll strike.

He catches you rummaging through your drawer, the strap in your hand. Assessing, you give him a gentler smile than usual, hands visible, softening your stance.

“Hello, Din.”

He nods, quickly, unbuckling his belt and yanking his cape free. Both fall to the floor carelessly. You press on.

“How about you tell me what you want?” you say, watching him carefully as he opens his pants plaquet. The mouthwatering strip of skin you covet peeks from beneath his top.

“Just need…need this,” he says, and while naturally a man of few words you’d taught him to be more vocal in this respect.

“Okay, Din. How about you kneel on the bed and we start there?” Your voice lowers into a soothing register, reaching for his arm.

“No,” he almost shouts, startling your hand back. He recovers. “No, I want…” You can practically hear him licking his lips on a sigh, slowing himself down. “Can you sit against the headboard?”

Brows raised, you nod. He’s never ridden you before, always preferring to let you take him from behind or on his back. Pulling the strap-on over your leggings, you settle against the headboard and wait for him. He doesn’t take long, kneeling on the bed briefly in contemplation before swinging over your lap. Shucking his pants half down his legs, you can’t resist a giggle.

“Might be better to take them off,” you tease, letting your hands lay featherlight on his hips. A huff crackles through the vocoder but he doesn’t move to disrobe further.

“I’ll open you up a bit first,” you say, one hand reaching for lube while the other snakes its way to his hole. You encounter surprising slickness, but he’s nowhere as warmed up as you get him.

“S’okay, I took care of it,” he mumbles, both hands coming up to grip the headboard above your head. Slicking lube on the dildo, you move to finger him enough to ease your way in.

“Just a little more…”

“I’m fine.”

The curt retort snaps your face to the helmet, now more of a cowled chin and shining halo of beskar above your head. There’s something bubbling uncomfortably under the surface, something you feel the need to drag out by the scruff of the neck, but it’s Din. You never talk feelings with Din. Frankly, you barely talk at all during, or after, any of your nights together.

“Sorry,” he breathes, forcing relaxation. “I’m ready. Please.”

Your eyes linger for a moment longer, then you circle the base of your cock in waiting.

He descends slowly, gritted breaths and sharp blasts of air from his nose echoing above you. You watch the strain in his thighs as he sinks and sinks, his cock only half-hard against his stomach. Leaving a hand on one hip, you stroke soothing paths up and down his lower back, watching for discomfort. Instead he’s marble around you, coiled, body not releasing as usual. Normally when you fuck him he dissolves, rolling his hips back onto you and choking out praises of how good you feel.

None of that comes. He meets the base of your cock and immediately slides back up at an almost punishing pace. He can’t be that acclimated yet, and his pained hisses and grunts only make that more apparent.

“Din, slow down,” you request, hands firmer on his hips to try and even his pace. If he heard you he says nothing, now slamming his hips down on your cock. “Din,” you beseech again, nails starting to dig in. His grunts grow to growls, something from the heat of battle, your headboard creaking from his crushing grip.

Clarity overtakes you, the shudder of his stomach and forceful downstrokes only getting more intense. There wasn’t pleasure in this. Something is eating up Din inside and he’s trying to fuck it out of himself. And he’s using you to do that.

“Din Djarin, STOP.”

The echo of your voice, strong and steely, finally brings Din to a stop with your cock buried deep in his ass. His chest heaves in front of you, limbs quivering from the exertion, but he’s as still as he can be. Gripping his chestplate, you push him back enough to look him in the visor, your anger righteously reflected back.

“You don’t punish yourself with my cock,” you order, teeth clenched and seething. “Do you think so little of me, that I’d just let you rip yourself to shreds without a word?”

Din freezes, but this time you know it’s shame. If you were in a clearer headspace you might have tried reassurance, or asked him to lay beside you and talk about what’s destroying him, but you’re just too upset.

“Is that all you come to me for?” you spit out, knuckles aching from gripping his armor. He’s silent for long enough that you consider throwing him out before he speaks.

“Something happened. And I just want to…be empty. To not think about it every moment.” He leans forward and your visage warps as he presses his forehead to the crown of your head. The anger thrums but starts to ebb as he folds around you. “I didn’t know where else to go. You’ve always taken care of me. More than I deserve.”

The sadness in his voice is palpable, and even with your mouth still sour from his deception you find the compassion to wrap your arms around his middle. The chestplate presses into your cheek, a metronome for Din’s slowing breaths.

“If you have any care in your heart for me, don’t ever do that again,” you grit out. Din’s breath catches.

“I care for you,” he says, and a door in your heart you never realized was cracked widens for Din’s admission.

“I care for you too, you karking asshole, which is why I want you to say something instead of trying to hate fuck your feelings out.”

Din’s chest begins to shake again, but you’re sure it’s laughter this time. You manage a giggle of your own, letting him lean back and look at you again. The motion shifts your cock in him, and his sharp sigh arches your brow.

“If you wanted to forget, you could have just told me,” you say, rolling your hips sensuously up into his clenching hole. Din’s head drops back, grip tightening on the headboard again as you grind into him.

“Please,” he begs, so soft and vulnerable you can’t help but give him what he needs.

Slowly you press up into him, guiding his hips to rock on your cock. You love the feel of his ass in your hands, well muscled and perfect for grabbing, manhandling him just enough to show he can let go. He follows your direction reluctantly at first, but as you plant your feet and start thrusting with more range he loosens. You can feel it in his arms, holding on to the headboard for dear life, and the building rhythm of his hips meeting yours. For a man whose life is violence, you never want to bring that into your sessions. But a light swat on one asscheek pulls the most delicious moan from deep in his chest.

“Fuck,” he groans, bearing down on you even more. Tilting your hips, you arch his back enough that you’re sure to hit his prostate on the next thrust.

“Maker!”

There it is.

“Close your eyes,” you whisper. Waiting a moment, you zero in on that perfect spot inside him and hit it with every one of your thrusts. “Do you feel that? Feel how good I’m fucking you?”

“Yes, fuck,” Din curses, one hand flitting down to squeeze the base of his cock. He’s at full attention now, head bobbing against your stomach. You swell with pride that he’s having to stave off his orgasm so quickly, but you’ll be the one to make those decisions now.

“All I want you to think about is how good you feel,” you purr, tugging his hand away and replacing it with your own. You long for his skin against yours, so you pull up your shirt to skim the head of his cock against your soft belly. He chokes, stuttering away but he’s trapped between your hand and thighs.

“Wait, Maker, I’ll cum if you…” he garbles, but his body keeps meeting your grinds. You shush him gently, stroking from base to tip and smearing precum over the head.

“You will, but only when I let you. You know I’ll make it good for you, make nothing but this pleasure you’re feeling fill that head of yours.” His rapid nod almost knocks you in the head with the beskar, but he manages to tuck into your neck instead. The helmet is a shocking cool against your skin, but the act of burrowing into you must be rewarded. Bringing your arms around him, you press along the length of his body, trapping his cock between.

“I’m gonna pound into this tight ass until you cum all over us. You like that?” The wail Din lets out shoots heat to your cunt, wishing more than anything that you’d opted for a toy that gave you a little stimulation too. Instead you hammer fast and hard, barely pulling out. Your hips and thighs burn with exertion at his bulk on top of you, but he’s frantically bouncing back and rutting his cock into the wet mess your bodies make.

“Don’t stop,” he gasps, and you’re not sure if it’s the vocoder but you think his voice sounds watery. “Please, cyar’ika, don’t stop.”

Cupping the back of his neck, damp with sweat, you whisper, “I’ve got you.”

With a handful of final pumps you’re coated in his cum, sliding around your belly as he seizes over and over. Pressing deep, you hold strong against his shuddering body as he finishes. Each weakening thrust draws him down on you, heavier and loose-limbed.

The armor makes it hard to find the soft spots, so you take to kneading the back of his neck and palming his spine. Before his last aftershock, you urge him higher on his knees so you can slip your cock out - slowly, so as not to shock his jellying body. Easing him down, you hold his head in the crook of your neck and settle him on your lap. His hands slide down from the headboard to your shoulders.

Then you hear it. A tiny sniff, then another. You can’t pretend you didn’t notice them so close to your ear. So you gather the broad man in your arms and hold him. His hands don’t know where to rest, finally winding loosely around your lower back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” you tell him again, and the sniffing starts to recede. His body, however, slumps against yours, and it takes all of your strength not to start giggling.

You fucked the Mandalorian right to sleep. Bravo to you.

When Din finally stirs, a deep rumble in his throat, it’s been almost an hour. Your toes are half numb and you’re dying to shift into any other position, but much like a lothcat falling asleep on your lap, you couldn’t bear to move Din. Especially when he started snoring, one of the most endearing and hilarious sounds you’d ever heard him make.

In the time he slept you wondered what happened. What terrible thing hollowed him out and haunts him. Something keeps him up at night, if the depth of his sleep is any indication. Recent, possibly. Traumatic.

Your breath caught in your throat. If something happened to Grogu you know he would have told you. You ask after him all the time, teasing that you’ll be his Auntie (Din always says he has plenty of them across the galaxy).

Had you seen the Razor Crest fly up? Where was that old bird anyway?

What happened in the time since Din last saw you?

The cycle of possibilities always ends the same. Maybe he cares for you in some way, but not enough for you to ask. No matter how much you want to.

A shift on your lap alerts you to Din waking, kneading his shoulders and neck lightly to alert him to your presence. He’s never slept with you before, but it wouldn’t surprise you to learn that he’s quick to draw at unexpected circumstances. Of which this one definitely is.

“What…” Din croaks, and if not for the helmet you would have offered him water.

“It’s okay, you’re on my ship. You’re okay.”

It takes Din another minute to realize what’s happened. Him, half naked on your lap with your strap pressing against his ass. You, covered in drying cum beneath him. In a flash he’s swinging his leg off your lap, attempting to stand but obviously they’ve gone as numb as yours because he stumbles and crashes out of sight.

“Oh kriff, are you…?” you start to ask, but as quick as he’s out of sight he pops back up again, tugging up his pants and tucking himself away.

“Sorry, that was…I didn’t mean to…do that.”

All of the heaviness and anger and lust fizzles away to laughter as you try to suppress the ridiculousness of the moment. After a moment of indigent head tilting Din’s shoulder also shake, chuckles fuzzing out of the vocoder.

“Oh Maker, what an understatement that is,” you sigh, wiping your stomach with the edge of your bedsheets. Din visibly cringes, hands on his hips.

“Sorry for the mess,” he apologizes, but you wave it off.

“I’ve had much worse, believe me,” you shoot back. Clean enough, you sit on the edge of the bed and look up at the inscrutable man.

“Want to talk about it?”

Din’s stance shifts, helmet tipping down for a moment before coming back to your face.

“...Not yet.”

You hum and nod. “Well, you know how to find me if you do.”

Din nods. “Thank you.”

As he picks up his effects you shimmy off the harness at the foot of the bed, mentally ticking through the steps to clean everything. Din watches you set it down, stilling until your eyes come back to him.

“It gives you pleasure as well?” he asks, which raises one of your eyebrows.

“I mean, about as much as rhythmically hitting your hips against someone can do.” His posture changes into something hard to decipher, so you continue. “I’ve got a few that do more for me, but it depends on the person I’m with. Comfort, boundaries. As you’re well aware.” You gesture to the armor, his chin tucking down to look at it.

“So you’ve never cum with me?” he asks, and a sudden feverish heat blooms under your skin. Din has a sex appeal you appreciate, but have never acted on beyond what he’s asked for. Now, something’s changed so dizzyingly fast you’re scrambling.

“Well, you’re pretty spent after our sessions. And you leave quickly. I don’t ask for more than you can give.”

Din takes a step towards you, putting his belt and cloak back down.

“What do you ask of other people you fuck?”

Your heart hammers in your chest. How can he turn the tables so quickly and spectacularly? Trying to gain the upper hand, you pull a confident face on and speak as breezily as possible.

“Most can’t get it up twice after I fuck them within an inch of their life, so fingers, tongues, toys, any and all of the above are excellent ways to repay the favor.”

He’s even closer now, and the facade is barely holding up. It’s like the vulnerability he showed you can’t possibly be returned.

“You’ve never asked me,” he says, and you can’t believe there’s a note of regret in his voice. The bed hits the back of your legs, and you steady your voice even though those words make your pussy throb.

“I didn’t think it was allowed.” Your voice drops low as Din steps into your space.

“Difficult, but not forbidden.” Din’s hands come to your shoulders. “Sit down, please.”

Your knees fold so fast you bounce on the bed, looking up at him. He joins you on one knee, hands coming to rest on your thighs.

“I broke my Creed. I would do it again, for the exact same reason, but now that makes me an apostate.” His hands come to the helmet, thumbs tucking underneath the lip.

“Din, what happened?”

He pauses, and you swear you can feel his gaze through that smoky visor.

“Close your eyes.”

Darkness surrounds you, then a hiss and a thunk.

Then the voice of a man you care for, unfiltered and bare.

“I’m not ready for anyone to see my face. But I want this, with you. If you can forgive me.”

You could be dreaming still. It would make just as much sense.

“I forgive you, Din. But just this once,” you sneak in at the end just to hear how melodic his laugh sounds. Then his hand splays over your stomach and urges you to lie back.

“I hope you don’t mind teaching me this. I don’t have much experience,” he says, fire licking through your body as he tugs your leggings and underwear off.

“Don’t worry, you’re a quick learner,” you say breathily.

And when he finally kisses you, sweet with your musk on his tongue and your orgasm dripping from his fingers, you teach him how to do that as well.

END

"I need some distraction Oh a beautiful release Memories seep from my veins Let me be empty Oh and weightless and maybe I'll find some peace tonight.

Sarah McLachlan, Angel (yeah I know I used the sad dog song)

#PMAMC 2024 #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #mando x reader #mando x you #mando x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #prolix fics

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storiesforthemoonchild · 4 months

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Caught In The Bliss | Lucy Bronze x Reader

pt. III of the Lucy fic. a little angst... a little suggestive... a lot of fluff

hopefully the different moments and progression of their situation makes sense. I've enjoyed this whole Lucy fic... so I hope you do too :)

pt. I | pt. II

It has been eight months. Eight months since you told Lucy that the two of you shouldn’t get caught up in bliss, and then doing exactly that. Eight months of first times and stolen moments, vulnerability and comfort, and pure joy. You couldn’t remember the last time before Lucy where you felt so genuinely happy.

The first time you make an effort to give things a try is a month after you left her in a Tilburg hotel room. You were fighting hard to let whatever happened between you two stay in the past, but Lucy refused it. Flight information for a long weekend in Barcelona popping up randomly on your phone in the middle of the day. A text attached, ‘I’ve got a free weekend coming up. Make some time, I’ll see you then’.

A week later you were on a flight to Barcelona to spend five days with the defender. She greeted you at the airport like one of those videos of long-distance couples meeting after time apart. Arms around your waist, spinning you with a joyous smile on her face. “I knew you would come,” she tells you, planting a kiss on your flushed cheeks.

The whole trip felt like a fever dream. Frankly, it all scared the hell out of you. Lucy was so domestic in her actions around her apartment. She had made room for your things to go in drawers, even though you assured her it was fine to stay in your suitcase. She would wake up in the morning and pull you closer, asking for just five more minutes of cuddles. You’d cook breakfast together everyday, well you’d cook and she’d give you kisses while wrapping her arms around you at the stove. You’d send her off to training while you did some work from her apartment.

Then she lets it slip that you were meant to be her date to a teammates birthday dinner over the weekend. You spend way too much time thinking of what it means if you meet her friends. Did that mean she had told them about you? Were the two of you at that point, admittedly you had definitely talked endlessly about her to yours, but that was different right?

“Don’t be nervous,” Lucy squeezes at your hand.

“What if they don’t like that I can’t speak Spanish well?”

“I speak it well enough for both of us,” another squeeze.

“What if they don’t want some random lady at their party?”

“I want you here,” she assures you.

“What if they don’t like me?”

“Baby girl, look at me,” Lucy stops in her journey to the front door, turning you to face her. “You will be fine. They will like you and even if for some crazy reason they don’t it will still be okay. Do you know why?” You shake your head, “it will be okay because I like you and that won’t change.”

Lucy had a way of assuring you, that washed away all your anxiety. She was confident as she walked in the home, a chorus of Spanish greetings reaching your ears. People you had never met were pulling you into hugs and kissing at your cheeks. Lucy’s protective grip around your waist never leaves. She introduced you and with how things were going you half expected her to call you her girlfriend at that moment. You heave a sigh of relief when she sticks with just your name.

The dinner party was very low stress after the initial shock wore off. You spent most of your time under Lucy and sipping wine. The girls made you feel welcomed, Aitana was sweet and chatted your ear off, Mapi reminded you of Lucy with how she would joke around, but your favorite was Patri she had your stomach aching from laughter every time she spoke.

Then there was Alexia, she had a protective nature you liked. She gave Lucia, as she called her, a firm talk about making sure to treat you well. “Alexia is fit,” you tease on your way back to her home.

“Yeah maybe, but I’m still the fittest,” Lucy is sure of herself and you couldn’t deny it.

You leave Barcelona two days later and fall right back into your habit of trying to push her away. You don’t know why, but you are preparing for her to leave you. Trying to protect yourself from the inevitable only creates a frustrated Lucy. Two weeks is all it takes for her to have enough…

It was a normal phone call, you two ended nearly every day talking to each other. An off-handed comment you make causes Lucy to snap. “You will move on by then,” you try to play it off as a joke, but Lucy doesn’t laugh.

“Why do you say things like that?” She sounds genuinely curious when she asks.

You chuckle, “It’s fine Lucy, you can admit it.”“I am trying (y/n),” you can tell she’s tired by her voice.

“Why?”

“What kind of fucking question is that?” this was what you wanted. You could hear the anger in Lucy‘s voice. She was finally going to prove you right.

“I just don’t get it, I’m sure there are plenty of women in Barcelona who will fuck you Lucy. You don’t have to keep flying me out just to get laid.” As usual a poor argument on your end. There had been very little intimacy on your last trip, Lucy opting to fill your nights with conversation.

She huffs, composing herself before she speaks, “this is a joke right? You are having a laugh.”

“Not everything is a joke. Tell me why? Why do you care to try Lucy?” There’s silence on the other end.

“Jesus,” Lucy finally sighs, “she really did you in. She did such a number on you that you can’t even see when someone might actually care about you.”

It felt like a low blow for her to bring up your ex, she knew it still hurt. “Fuck you Lucy. Next time you want someone to fuck just call your little teammate and leave me alone.”

“Yeah, fuck me,” you hear her say right before you disconnect the call.

You feel nothing immediately after. However, a Lucy sized hole carves itself into your heart over the following days when you don’t hear from her. You know you miss her, but pride refused to let you text her first.

Two weeks. That’s how long she makes you wait before you finally hear from her. As usual flight information and a short message, ‘sorry I got upset. I want to talk it out in person. Please come baby girl’.

A shorter stay this time only for the weekend. You didn’t reply to her message, but you never doubted if you would be on that plane. Lucy was addictive. She could tell you to meet her halfway across the world and you would go.

She’s waiting for you at baggage claim again, she knew just like you did that you would be there. There’s no exciting reunion this time. She just grabs your bag and offers her hand silently.

The drive is tense and there’s no hand resting on your thigh like usual. Soft music floats through the car as she travels the Barcelona roads you are becoming familiar with.

“I’ve missed you,” she finally breaks the stalemate once you’ve reached the confines of her home. “I’m sorry for not reaching out. I just needed to think a minute.”

“Okay,” you whisper, afraid of what conclusion all her thinking brought her to.

“I’m trying because I care. I’m trying because I like you. Maybe it’s hard to believe, but that night we met is still my favorite memory of you. I saw you dancing with your friends and you looked so carefree. I was mesmerized by you. Every moment since then I’ve been hooked on you. What I said…about her doing a number on you was wrong. I just want you to see that I’m not looking to do that to you. I don’t fly you out here for a good lay and I don’t know what you meant about sleeping with my teammate, but I swear I’m not. There’s no one else I’m interested in sharing these moments with. I’m not looking to play around (y/n).”

You’re unsure if she even meant to say all that. She looks a bit shocked at herself. You on the other hand are barely keeping it together. You take a few tentative steps in her direction and she is quick to grab hold of you. Her strong arms wrapping around you as you let yourself break.

“I’m scared of how happy you make me. I’m scared you will leave,” you’re sobbing and if it was anyone else seeing you like this you’d feel ashamed at how weak you look, but it was Lucy. Lucy who only pulled you closer and leaned down to attempt to kiss away every tear as they fell. Lucy, who had been nothing but gentle with you from the moment she took you home.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby girl. Just please stop trying to push me away.”

That was probably the worst and best time during the past eight months. You learned a lot about yourself through being vulnerable with Lucy. She was patient with you as you worked to be able to trust her. She listened when you just wanted to vent and gave you space when everything became too much.

You were falling, and it took you three months to realize it. Every weekend trip, every dinner date, every phone call, every quickie in airport bathrooms, it was all perfect because it was with her. Your mind told you to run, but your heart craved more. You wanted the fairytale to last forever.

Five months in and Lucy was finally visiting you in Amsterdam this weekend. It was only for two days, but you planned to make the most of it. You were getting ready for dinner at your favorite place, followed by a night on the town. “What color ya wearing?” Lucy asks, walking into your room in just a sports bra and shorts.

It felt intentional, she knew exactly what she was doing as your eyes drank her in, “b-black,” you reply meekly. Lucy hums, turning to rummage through her luggage. That view does nothing to slow your filthy thoughts, “we don’t have to go,” you suggest.

“What?” Lucy laughs, looking over her shoulder and noticing your state.

You really didn’t want to explain, “we can stay in. We should stay in, order takeaway.”

She pouts, “but I wanna match outfits with you and hold hands as we walk through Amsterdam.” She’s teasing and you know it.

“That’s very cute, but you walk in here like that and now all I want to eat is you.” Lucy’s jaw drops, eyes darkening as she takes two calculated steps to get to you in a hurry, “but if dinner is what you want I’ll get ready.” You slide past her to your wardrobe.

Lucy molds her body against your back. You can feel every ripple, and you have to suppress a moan at the feeling, “that can be dessert.” She licks along the shell of your ear causing your knees to wobble, she was definitely better at the teasing game than you were.

Once you arrive you are a bit embarrassed by the fancy restaurant you chose, it felt very date-y. Well technically it was a date, but it felt like a place for couples and that’s not what you and Lucy are. You don’t actually have a single clue what you and Lucy are.

“This was a good choice, I like it here.” Lucy grabs at your hand across the table, your worries eased instantly.

“(y/n)!” You recognize the voice calling you, hand stiffening in Lucy’s. The panic sets in Lucy’s eyes immediately as she run’s a thumb across the back of your hand. “I thought that was you,” the girl says, reaching the table.

“Hi,” you reply politely, eyes flicking up to take in the sight of your ex who you hadn’t seen in what felt like a lifetime. She hadn’t changed. You used to melt under her intense gaze in the best way possible, but now all you feel is insecurity.

“Look at you. How have you been?” You straighten up at her words, removing your hand from Lucy’s grip. You begin to fuss over yourself, fixing out your hair and brushing down your already straightened top. A terrible habit you had fallen into while dating her.

“Good, yeah good,” you respond. You can’t look towards Lucy, you know she is judging you. You can feel the piercing gaze, burning into you.

A hand reaches for your shoulder, “you look good. Amazing actually, what are your plans later?” she squeezes and your whole body tenses.

You go to respond, but Lucy beats you to it, “I’m Lucy,” she nearly shouts.

“Okay?” your ex brushes off barely sparring her a glance before her eyes are boring back into you.

“We have plans and you are interrupting our dinner,” Lucy presses on.

Finally picking up on the situation, your ex looks back and forth between the two of you before laughing, “oh this is a date. Sorry to interrupt, just call me when you get done with…that yeah?”

You don’t know why, but you nod as she walks away. “Let’s go,” Lucy commands as the waiter returns with her card. She makes her way to your side of the table, gently pulling back your chair and wrapping your coat around you. If it wasn’t for nearly being able to see the steam coming from her ears you would think everything was fine.

She grips your hand, a calming thumb stroking along the back as you stand waiting for the valet to bring your car, “I’m sorry,” you tell her just as they pull up. Lucy furrows her brow, but doesn’t respond, opening the door and ushering you inside before hopping in the driver seat.

“Look at me,” your glossy eyes meet hers. “You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m just upset I couldn’t do more baby girl. I’m upset she ruined a great night, but not at you. Never at you. You are perfect.”

“The night isn’t ruined, we still have dessert right?”

Lucy smirks, dropping her hand to your thigh and gripping firmly. It stays there the whole drive, occasionally moving up to brush against your center.

The moment you enter your apartment Lucy has you pressed up against a wall, teeth nipping at your neck. “I didn’t like it.”

“What?” You question, attempting to stretch your neck to give her more access.

“The way she looked at you. I didn’t like the way she looked at what is mine,” Lucy is fevered in her movements, a moan falling from your mouth at her words. Lips moving to devour yours in a needy kiss. Hers, you love the way that sounds.

“Tell me again,” you pull away stroking gently at her cheek to calm her movements. “Tell me I’m yours.”

Lucy smiles, softening as she pecks your lips, “you are mine baby girl.”

There was a shift after the weekend she spent in Amsterdam. You didn’t wonder what you and Lucy were doing anymore, it was blatantly clear. There was no question about it, you were actively dating the Barcelona defender. While it was news to you, it seemed she had known that much longer.

From then on, every Monday morning like clock work there would be a flower delivery. A sweet note attached telling you to have a good week. Your days would be full of cute and flirty text. Every night ended with you curled up in one of her hoodies and a phone call that always kept you up too late.

You were done fighting it. This was so much better than anything you could have imagined. You were introduced to new sides of Lucy. The passionate side, the shy side, aggressive, motivated, focused, all these different parts of her that made her whole. Your favorite was jealous Lucy. The distance flared this side a bit more. You’d seen it before on her trip here but over the phone it was just adorable.

“Who else was there?” Lucy cuts your story off to ask her question.

“No one. Why?”

“So it was a date? She asked you on a date?” She presses on and you try to gauge if she’s serious.

“No,” you keep your answer short.

Lucy grumbles, “I don’t like it.”

“You don’t like what?”

“Her.”

You hold in your laugh. You were in the middle of telling Lucy how your new coworker asked you to lunch to get to know one another. “She didn’t do anything to you Luce.”

“She took you on a date. That’s my responsibility not hers,” her statement is firm and you melt.

“Babe,” well that was new. You try to control the panic after the term of endearment slips for the first time. “It wasn’t a date and if it was in her mind it was the world's most boring date.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. No dates unless they are with you,” you send her a wink through FaceTime. “Even if I have to go all the way to Barcelona to have it.”

Lucy watches you silently for a moment, “you can just move out here and I’ll take you out every night if you want,” she shrugs as if it’s a casual thing.

This was an ongoing conversation, she always brought it up. Never in a pressuring way, just an if you wanted to, you could kind of way. You’d thought about it. You’d thought a whole lot about it, but last time you stayed in a city for someone you were dating it didn’t turn out great. You weren’t eager to run off and do it again.

“I like when you called me that,” Lucy changes the topic seeing the wheels turning in your head.

Your cheeks blush knowing exactly what she meant, but you feign ignorance, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t baby girl. Just know I liked it a lot,” you nod grateful she’s letting you off the hook. A soft smile rests on both of your faces, just staring at one another for a while. As soon as the smirk begins to spread across her face you prepare for the cheeky comment, “tell me what you’re wearin.”

The drop in her voice makes you laugh, “you can’t ask that on facetime where you can quite literally see what I am wearing. I thought you were better at this.”

“I just wanted to hear you laugh,” she shrugs, leaning back on her bed and letting out a yawn.

“Get some sleep,” you whisper out.

“Not sleepy,” she mumbles. She never wanted to be the reason the call ended, always finding a reason to prolong it.

You chuckle, “yeah I know, but I am. I will text you in the morning, yeah?”

“Fine,” Lucy tries her best to sound mad. “Good night, beautiful.”

You smile so hard it hurts your cheeks, “good night babe.” Lucy flushes, the childlike smile taking over her face showing her pure joy at the term. She nods, refusing to hang up and waiting for you to do it.

There was nothing you could do, you had to accept the fact you were at Lucy’s mercy. After eight months your heart was hers to break and you couldn’t even begin to think what that actually meant.

You talked to Alexia via Instagram, you wanted to plan something for Lucy for a change. A surprise, but you needed help and she seemed like the most logical option. You hadn’t seen Lucy in person since she last came to see you. Three months felt like such a long time at this point.

Alexia picks you up from the airport, and you’re nervous. You didn’t necessarily know her that well, but you were happy she was willing to help. You get in her car and she drops a package in your lap, “a gift,” she says in her thick Spanish accent.

You pull back the paper wrapping and pull out the Barcelona jersey. BRONZE adorning the back makes you blush, “thank you.”

“I know you want Alexia on back, but Lucia will be mad,” she jokes and it does well to calm your nerves.

Barcelona played tonight and you hadn’t seen Lucy play since the night in Tilburg. Alexia drops you at her apartment and introduces you to her girlfriend. She lets you know she will take you to the game seeing how Alexia had to be there early.

The atmosphere of the Barcelona match was even more exciting than the first match you attended. As usual you watch only her from the moment she steps out the tunnel, definitely the fittest. Again it’s not until the teams line up and Alexia points in your general direction that Lucy notices you.

When your eyes lock with hers it feels like time stops. You can’t decipher what the look on Lucy’s face means, but you’re very sure what the racing of your heart means. You couldn’t say those three words, but you know they were true. It seems like Lucy finally snaps out of her trance and she sends you a wink.

Several times throughout the match you catch her gaze drifting your way. Every time she lifts her shirt to wipe sweat from her face she makes sure she’s turned your way. Your core clenching each time, but then you quickly feel jealousy rise at everyone else getting to see that as well. “Jesus,” you mumble frustrated at the arousal you feel.

The match couldn’t end quick enough for you. It feels like Lucy is taking her time going around and greeting fans just to torture you. It’s embarrassing how turned on you were at a football match. When you finally see her head back you are quick to text her, ‘hurry up please!’

Her response is cheeky of course, no words just two simple emojis, 😏💦. You're sure Alexia’s girlfriend thinks you're a psycho. Nearly bouncing in your seat on your way to meet up with Lucy at her apartment.

You see her car pull up and nearly sprint to it after saying your thanks. Lucy goes to get out, but you are quick to open the back door and throw your luggage in, “do NOT get out yet.”

“Hi baby girl. What a surprise,” Lucy’s cocky smirk resting on her face as you slide in.

“I didn’t like it,” you copy her words, pulling her into your lips by the strings of her hoodie. Your hand slides up the front resting against her abs that she flexes under your touch.

She tries to take control of the kiss, darting her tongue in your mouth only briefly before pulling away, “What didn’t you like, baby girl?”

“Keep your shirt down next time. There’s already enough videos of these out there,” you tell her running a hand down her stomach.

“Oh, have you been watching edits again?”

“Shut it, hi babe surprise,” you blush realizing you hadn’t even properly greeted her. You take a deep breath, calming yourself from the lust that took over you during the match.

“Hi beautiful. Feeling alright?” You nod accepting the kiss she puts on your forehead. “Come on, let's get inside.”

Lucy carries your bag as she guides you towards the apartment. Your nose is hit with the overwhelming scent of Lucy the moment the door opens and you realize how much you’ve missed it. You wish you could bottle it and take it back with you when you leave or better yet never have to leave. “How was the flight? Are you tired? Have you eaten? Sorry it’s messy.”

Lucy speaks rapidly until you walk into her arms, wrapping yours around her neck, “I’m fine, everything is perfect. I’m just happy to be here.”

“Sorry, it just doesn’t feel real that you’re here. I’ve missed you. I nearly ran off the pitch when Alexia pointed you out.”

“I thought we were long overdue for some date nights and cuddles. Did I ruin any plans you had by coming unexpectedly?” You place a kiss on her lips as her hands trail up your sides.

“You do know I would cancel every plan just to spend even an hour with you right?”

“You have to stop saying things like that…”

“But I mean it. I can’t explain to you how I felt when I looked up and saw you today,” she’s giving you that smile that caused all this. The one that made you absolute putty in her hands.

“Lucy…” it’s said like a warning. You can feel yourself close to slipping. A confession you were so sure of, but scared to admit.

“(Y/n),” she gives right back, pulling you closer. You fight it by taking a step out of her grip. Those eyes and that smile were too much for you. “It’s okay, you know.”

It feels like your heart stops. She knows, of course she knows. It was like she always knew what you were thinking before you even had time to process it. “I can’t do this.”

“No,” Lucy’s voice is firm. She makes her way back to you, a gentle touch placed on your waist. “We aren’t doing that anymore, remember? I won’t let you run away baby girl.”

“I’m scared,” you admit. This wasn’t how you planned this trip going, at least not right away. You weren’t supposed to get here and feel all these things. She wasn’t supposed to look at you like you were the most precious thing and smile at you like you were the only person capable of bringing her joy.

“It’s okay to be scared, but don’t shut me out. Let’s be scared together because you aren’t the only one,” that catches your attention. Your eyes searching hers for a clue to what she meant. “I’m happy you’re here. Let’s just enjoy it, yeah?”

“I missed you,” you finally relax back in her grip. Lucy could soothe even the wildest of storms within you with just a few words. Her presence and gentle whispers were able to hush every worry and any doubt. Her eyes are a reflection of tranquility.

“Should we go out for dinner?”

You shake your head, “no, let's stay in.” You didn’t want to share her with anyone. You selfishly wanted every single bit of her attention to be on you.

“That sounds amazing, baby girl. Why don’t you shower and get settled. I’ll start dinner.” You nod, turning to head towards the bedroom when she grabs your wrist again pulling you back. “Oh, did I mention how good you look with my name on your back?”

“You didn’t have to, I know.” You leave a kiss on her lips before making your way. It’s not until you reach the bedroom that you realize all the pieces of you scattered about her apartment. The hair products on the dresser exactly where you left them, the skincare essentials lined up next to hers, your hoodie across the bed that she clearly wore the night before. What used to be one drawer of your things that went back home with you had turned into you nearly having your own side of the dresser.

You head to the shower to stop the racing thoughts of when that even happened, only to be met with your shampoo resting on the ledge beside hers. You’re about to step in when Lucy enters, “Here baby, a new toothbrush I threw your old one out with mine. I wanted to wait til you got back to open yours. I made sure to get your favorite color this time too, crybaby,” she teases, giving a soft smack to your bum as she slides it in the holder.

You’re speechless. There was nothing you could say right now that wouldn’t be the cheesiest confession you ever made, so you settle for a smile. You were so fucked.

The shower fails at washing away your thoughts. You slip into the hoodie she laid out for you, it was your favorite one of hers. You had sent it back with her when she left Amsterdam because it no longer smelt like her. You take a deep inhale of the fabric as it wraps around you, glad to have it back.

You can smell dinner from the bedroom and head out, “Took you long enough. I was about to send in a search party.” Lucy is focused on her task of setting the table and adding the finishing touches to your meals. Having slipped into shorts and a shirt she clearly went through your bag to find, she looked perfect to you. Glasses perched on her nose and a low bun in her hair, you were sure she never looked this beautiful before.

“Lucy…” you whisper from just inside the doorway.

“Sit, it’s almost ready.”

“Lucy…” you say it a bit louder this time as your voice cracks.

Her eyes immediately focus on you when she hears it and she’s by your side a moment later, “baby girl what is wrong?’

“I am having big feelings right now babe,” you feel the first tear roll down your cheek and wipe at it aggressively. You couldn’t fight it anymore.

“Okay, what do you need from me?” Lucy is cautious, not wanting to make anything worse if space is what you wanted. She was the one who started the whole ‘big feelings’ thing when you were working through trusting her. It was stupid and felt like what you say to a toddler, but it was cute when she said it and allowed you space to be vulnerable.

“I love you,” you hate that your voice cracked when you said it. “I love you more than I thought humanly possible to love another person Lucy. I want you and I want life with you here. I have no clue what you do to me, but I never want it to end.”

Lucy blinks, pulling you close to study you before a smile breaks across her face, “say it again.”

“No,” you are suddenly very aware of the fact you just confessed your feelings and can’t stop the blush of embarrassment.

Lucy kisses at your cheeks, “please baby girl. Just one more time.”

“I. Love. You,” you peck her lips with each word before she holds you close to deepen it.

“I love you too,” Lucy shrugs like it’s the easiest thing in the world to admit. You shove her at the nonchalant attitude, “what? I’ve known I loved you for months now.”

You playfully shove her away from you again, “why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“You weren’t ready to hear that. I was okay keeping it to myself until you were on the same page as me. You’ve had me since the moment I laid eyes on you (y/n).”

You groan, “sorry I made you wait.”

Lucy shrugs again, the same one you found so charming on that first night, “I would’ve waited a lifetime for you baby girl.”

a/n: sorry if there was any mistakes... I feared if I read it one more time I'd end up hating it and starting over lol

#woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze imagine #lucy bronze

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tamelee · 2 months

Note

pls bottom naruto is disgusting stop drawing this ooc cringe

Eh? And it hadn't even been a full day.

Anyway, do you know what this means?:

It means… that I don’t give a damn about your whiny gibberish about this top/bottom bullshit, because it sounds incredibly silly. (And wrong because I draw both?)

It’s fine to have a preference, good for you (I have one too!), but if all you care about between a character-dynamic is the single notion which establishes a rule within a fandom that demands only this particular dick in only that particular booty and nothing else, while dividing yourselves between "us and them" while seeing the people who like the same exact characters as your "enemy" and treating them as such— well,

I have nothing to say to you, I couldn’t care less what you think about me and I don’t know you.

But for the sake of other creators who are often a target also, some which I know quit because of this… there is a little something I'd like to say about these servers:

You don’t think I (we) know what is said in there and by who? 👀 That your rules of "what is said on here stays here" with a bunch of people online that you don't know, is actually respected? Why do you think I never join any. And bet your ass that I'm not the only one. This constant fighting between NS/SN is such an embarrassment for this fandom, seriously. I hope you realize that.

Because, instead of encouraging a (new) creator to share something about the characters you claim to love (for fucking free) you go off chastise them for not “doing it right”/“your way”, pretending it's some unspoken commission no one knew of or was paid for. Instead of being happy there’s still so much creative contribution for characters from a story that ended years ago, you go complain under fanfics and dishearten writers, often grinning away with your little server-“friends” and make fun of work someone poured their heart in. Or, you huff, puff and breathe fire as you make plans to cancel them out of pure bitterness, to the point (especially new) creators are too scared and dispirited to ever share anything again. It's easy to do anonymously, aye? And if you think that doesn’t affect their lives and sends them right back into a crestfallen pit of dark hell because it prevents them to do/share the single thing in life that gave them a bit of joy, then...

Congratulations; you’re a heartless bastard.

And you, as a fan, did yourself dirty too.

Do you know how many people don’t want to share anything at all for this fandom because you people leave comments, tags, asks, tweets constantly complaining about an incorrect portrayal of the (in your opinion) only acceptable dynamic, like a bunch a brats? Do you? Because I’ve talked to quite a few of these discouraged creators, they have to hope for the best and pray they’re spared from your scrutiny. I receive it from both sides every now and then.

Again, congratulations: you’re the reason there’s less chance of you getting what you want in the first place.

Do you... really not realize?

The more you squabble with "your enemy" (lol) the more it affects the "us" you care about while the rest of us just bask in the glory that is SNS/NSN and couldn't care less about what you think/have to say. So, keep everyone else out of it and go mope elsewhere.

But, between you and me? There are better ways to share what you think is right. Make something yourself, because what's stopping you?

You’re perfectly capable, it doesn’t have to be art or a fic, maybe there’s just something in the story that you really enjoyed— write about it. Make a meta. Post the panel, show the moment that determined your undying love for this single dynamic and why— whatever. Because, wouldn't it be nice having someone encourage you to create something you like? 😬 Especially because you and your server feel so strongly about it? And then you don't have to depend on others either?

Wouldn't it be nice?

Well?

Hm!?

Try it, ffs.

#asktamelee #fandom talk

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gtgbabie0 · 1 year

Note

Oh thats ok! The prompt doesnt really need a smut bit anyway so here goes: snowballfighting with cregan but after your ice incident (your prev cregan fic) he's worried about you running and slipping on ice. So he doesnt run and just lets you pelt him with snowballs, watching you laugh and have your fun. Cregan has this 'gods i'm so in love with her' look on his face 😂😂😂

Snowball fights and kisses

{Cregan and you take a break from Politics}

Aww, this is really cute!! Please I love him so much I think he would just be the sweetest to his lover!! 💕 {you can read part 1 here!}

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You feel awful watching Cregan go crazy with stress, lord after lord sending ravens in attempts to have an audience with the Lord of Winterfell, and you couldn’t do much instead you just watch as his problems keep building up.

“My dear, let me help— please, I could help with the smaller problems,” you tell him knowing full well he’d turn down your offer, but you ask anyway, you just felt so useless standing around doing nothing.

You watch as he shakes your head, “I am the lady of Winterfell, surely that gives me some authority to help” you tell him, and he puts his quill down looking over at you from where he was sitting motioning for you to come over.

“Yes you do, of course, you do— but as my lady, I don’t want you to make yourself sick with stress,” he says, looking up at you with loving eyes, he takes your hands pressing kisses against your healing palms.

Cregan has always been so caring when it came to you, even when he was first courting you he was nothing but gentle, a side of him you didn’t expect, and he made you feel so needed, the way he was always asking for your suggestions on things.

“Well then, at least take a break just for a little,” you say, his hands resting on your hips as your fingers thread through his hair, and he smiles at the feeling.

His chest blooms with adoration, “What would we do my love?” He asks, with genuine curiosity, he knows you’re always going off on your own little journeys, often causing him heart failure in the process but he endures it, anything to keep you happy.

“It’s a beautiful day outside don’t you think? Let’s go out for a walk— that way you can make sure I don’t slip again” You giggle thinking back at the memory, and he looks up at you with unimpressed eyes.

You watch as stands from his chair, stretching as he does, “I’m glad you find it funny dear” he says with a smile, the type you can’t control, “You almost killed me” he says, as he leans down to tie the lace on your boots.

You look down at him, “Yes, but I made it up to you didn’t I?” You tease, and you watch as a gentle red dust against his cheeks slightly at the memory of you by the fireplace.

He shakes his head with a chuckle, draping one of his furs around your shoulders before you both walk side by side making your way outside, and you both feel great, breathing in the fresh crisp air.

You look around at the sight, taking it in, the pure white blanket of snow that covers the ground, gentle snowflakes that fall from the pewter grey clouds, you notice how they collect in Cregan's hair, a storm was brewing you could feel it.

He watches with a smile as you walk slightly in front of him, looking around at the nature that surrounds you both, he watches attentively as you slip slightly on the icy path, and his chest tightens as you regain your balance.

“Please, be careful love, I don’t want another incident,” he says, a hand against your back as you both continue to walk, enjoying the crunch of the snow underneath your boot.

Cregan watches with confusion as you bend down, “Have your laces come undone?” He asks, your silence only confuses him further, and before he can say anything else a snowball comes flying at him, hitting him straight in the chest.

He chuckles at the boisterous laugh that erupts from you, how your eyes squint with joy as you double over clutching your stomach as you continue to launch snowballs at him.

He would run after you, chase you around the snowy landscape, but he recalls back to your incident, how your knees were bloodied and raw and the way your face contorted with pain as the Maesters applied ointment on the wounds, and he doesn’t want to ever see you in pain again.

So, he stands there trying to evade your attack, as he dodges some of them, enjoying the sound of your beautiful laugh, it’s a sound that he swears to the gods could fix all of his problems.

He watches as you pact the snow into a ball before throwing it at him, how the tiny snowflakes collect against the furs you’re wearing, and how they sit in your hair and he thinks you’re the most enchanting person in all of Westeros, you’ve completely captured his heart and soul.

“I win!” You giggle jogging over to where Cregan stands with a huge smile, ear to ear, and it warms him to see.

He wraps his arms around your shoulders bringing you closer to him, “Yes you do my love” he whispers pressing a loving kiss to the corner of your mouth.

He takes a moment to admire you, your beauty and flaws, you mean so much to him and Cregan knows he’d go to war for you.

“Gods I love you, so much,” he says, and you can’t help the fluttery feeling in your belly as you turn suddenly bashful under his loving gaze.

Your hands rest on either side of his face as you pull him down to you, pressing a meaningful kiss to his lips, his cold nose grazing against your skin, “As do I my love” you whisper, lips brushing against his, and you wonder what people would think if they ever seen this side to the lord of Winterfell.

“Come on, let's get you inside my beautiful wife,” he says guiding you back into the castle and to your shared bedchambers, and he thinks he might take breaks more often, then again, he’d do anything to see that wonderful smile of yours.

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soulofapatrick · 5 months

Text

Scarlet Temptations - Shanks x Reader

Summary: You find your way onto the Red Force to find Shanks' crew mid party which leads to some confessions from Shanks

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: None

Y/N’s POV

As I set foot on the deck of the legendary Red Force, the scene unfolds before me like a vivid painting brought to life. The air thrums with the harmonious medley of lively music and carefree laughter. Lanterns, adorned with intricate patterns, sway gently in the breeze, casting a warm, ethereal glow that dances across the deck. The vibrant attire of the pirates is a sight to behold—each outfit a kaleidoscope of colours that whirl and twirl with every movement. They move with a contagious energy, embracing the night with a fervour that seems to defy the boundaries of the open sea.

And there he is, amidst the jubilant chaos, Shanks stands tall and commanding, yet there’s a different air about him tonight. His usually serious countenance is softened by a smile, his laughter blending seamlessly with he joyful tunes echoing through the air. As I stand there, enraptured by the spectacle of Shanks and his crew revealing in the festivities, I can’t help but admire the way he seamlessly merges with the joyous atmosphere. He moves with a grace that belies his stature, effortlessly engaging in the lively dance that envelops the deck.

His laughter, infectious and genuine, resonates across the ship, drawing others into the whirl of merriment. I watch as he twirls a crewmate around, sharing a joke that elicits hearty laughs from those around them. There’s an undeniable warmth in the way he interacts with everyone, a genuine camaraderie that speaks volumes about the respect he commands.

Caught in the rhythm of movement, shanks suddenly stumbles mid-step, his gaze shifting through the crowd until his eyes lock onto mine. A glint of recognition sparks within those deep, espresso eyes, and without hesitation, he gracefully navigates his way through the dances until he stands before me.

“Ah, there you are!” His voice, carrying a blend of amusement and genuine delights, cuts through the music. With a playful grin, he extends a hand, inviting me to join in the dance, “Care to join me for a dance?”

Caught off guard by Shanks’ unexpected invitation, I feel a surge of both excitement and hesitation. His hand extended, the music pulsating around us, I can’t help but hesitate, a shy smile tugging at my lips.

“Ahh, I don’t know Shanks,” I stammer, glancing around at the lively dancers, feeling a mixture of nerves and exhilaration

But Shanks, ever persistent and full of infectious enthusiasm, doesn’t take no for an answer. With a gentle yet firm tug, he insists, “Come onnn, it’s all in good fun! Trust me, you’ll enjoy it!”

Before I can protest further, he pulls me gently but decisively into the heart of the dance floor, his infectious laughter mingling with the music. At first, I feel self-conscious, my movements hesitant and unsure amidst the whirl of experienced dancers. Yet, Shanks’ encouraging grin and the vibrant atmosphere begin to work their magic. His easy confidence is contagious, and soon, I find myself swaying to the rhythm, the initial hesitation giving way to a growing sense of enjoyment.

As we move, Shanks’ guiding hand offers reassurance, guiding me through the steps with a patience that surprises me. His presence is both reassuring and exhilarating, a mix of warmth and strength that envelopes me in a cocoon of comfort. With every twist and step, the music seems to weave a connection between us, breaking down barriers in its infectious melody. And as the dance reaches its peak, any lingering reservations melt away, replaced by a sense of pure exhilaration and joy.

The dance crescendos and the music wraps around us like a vibrant embrace. Shanks’ movements become fluid, guiding me effortlessly through the steps as if we’re engaged in an intricate duet. His touch, gentle yet firm, sends a shiver down my spine, awakening a sensation I hadn’t expected.

In a graceful swirl, he draws me closer, our bodies aligning in perfect rhythm. His chest presses against mine, his warmth seeping through the thin barrier of our clothes. The closeness makes my heart quicken, a nervous fluter rising within me.

Shanks, ever the playful charmer, leans in, his breath teasingly close to my ear, “You’re a natural on the dance floor,” he murmurs, his voice a husky whisper that sends a jolt of heat through me. His lips graze against the shell of my ear, sending a thrill down my spine, “Or maybe it’s just the company.”

A blush blooms across my cheeks as his playful flirtation catches me off guard. His proximity is electrifying, and I find myself pressing my hands flat against his firm chest, a futile attempt to steady myself amidst the whirlwind of sensations. His laughter rumbles against me, the sound infectious and carefree, “You’re blushing.” He observes with a hint of amusement, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leans back slightly, his gaze locking with mine.

Caught in his gaze, I can’t help but feel both flustered and captivated. There’s a magnetic pull in the air, a tension that crackles between us, undeniable and exhilarating. The lively music fading into a softer melody, Shanks drawing me closer again, a playful glint in his eyes, “Another dance, perhaps?”

Unable to resist the pull of his charisma, I nod in agreement, allowing him to draw me into the gentle sway of the slower rhythm,. The atmosphere changes, the energy now replaced with a more intimate ambiance that envelops us like a warm embrace. Our movements synchronise effortlessly, a silent understanding guiding us through the graceful steps. As the dance progresses, a newfound ease settles between us, the tension from earlier transforming into a subtle connection that seems to deepen with every passing moment.

Caught in the intimacy of the dance, I find myself drawn to the enigmatic scars that adorn Shanks' left eye. With a hesitant yet curious touch, my fingers trace the three distinct marks, the texture rough against my fingertips. It's a silent acknowledgment of the battles fought and the stories untold, a gesture of both reverence and curiosity. Shanks' gaze lingers on me, a mixture of surprise and a subtle vulnerability flickering in his eyes at the unexpected touch. Yet, he doesn't pull away, allowing the moment to unfold between us.

In that tender exchange, our closeness feels like a delicate dance of understanding and unspoken words. His surprise at my touch gives way to a soft vulnerability, a fleeting glimpse behind the veil of the enigmatic pirate captain. As my fingertips trace the rugged path of his scars, the world around us seems to fade into a hushed sanctuary, leaving just the quiet rhythm of our breathing. Shanks' gaze, intense and searching, holds mine captive, as if inviting me to explore the depths of his untold tales.

Unexpectedly, Shanks leans in closer, our noses brushing lightly, causing a rush of laughter to escape both us the shared moment washing away any hint of unease. It’s a lighthearted exchange, a dance of proximity that sparks a carefree joy between us.

Amidst the laughter, Shanks’ voice, a gentle murmur, breaks the fleeting silence, “You’re… you’re ethereal,” he breathes out, the sincerity in his tone wrapping around us like a gentle breeze. His words carry a weight of admiration, tinged with a hint of wonder, leaving me speechless.

Before I can even gather my thoughts, Shanks closes the remaining distance between us, his lips meeting mine in a tender and fleeting kiss. It’s a moment suspended in time, the touch of is lips against mine, a blend of warmth and promise. There’s a raw authenticity to the connection, an unspoken understanding that transcends words, leaving only the soft brush of our lips and the shared heartbeat between us. It's a brief yet poignant exchange, carrying with it the unspoken promise of a story yet to unfold.

In that suspended moment, the air crackles with an electric charge, and as our lips part, a gentle smile plays on Shanks' features, his eyes reflecting a myriad of unspoken emotions. His vulnerability echoes through the faintest quiver of his lips, resonating with an unspoken invitation. Drawn inexplicably closer, my fingers instinctively thread through the soft strands of his crimson hair. With a gentle yet firm tug, I guide Shanks' face back towards mine, the unexpected pull drawing a deep, guttural sound from him—a mixture of surprise and a raw, primal response to the sensation of his hair being tugged.

The kiss that follows is fervent and impassioned, a collision of longing and restraint that sets my heart ablaze. His lips are soft yet possess an underlying intensity that ignites a fire within me. There's a dance of fervour and tenderness in the way his lips mold against mine, each kiss a whispered promise of uncharted territories.

As our embrace deepens, I feel the gentle touch of his hand on the small of my back, his touch warm and reassuring. His right hand, the only one he has, finds a natural resting place, cradling the curve of my waist with a tender yet possessive hold. The sensation of his kisses is an intoxicating blend—a symphony of desire and reverence. Each touch of his lips against mine sends a cascade of sensations through me, evoking a sense of longing and connection that feels both exhilarating and comforting.

Amidst the fervent exchange, a wave of emotions surges through me, a whirlwind of desire and an unspoken understanding. Shanks' kisses feel like an exploration of uncharted territory, each touch leaving an indelible mark on my soul, a testament to the depth of our connection.

In that stolen moment, with the world fading away and the only reality being the touch of our lips and the intertwining of our souls, I find myself lost in the enchanting dance of passion and intimacy, completely ensnared by the enigmatic allure of the man known as Shanks.

“Come on,” His voice is husky as he parts enough to whisper, “I want you in my cabin now.”

“Yes sir.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

One Piece Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

#shanks #shanks x you #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #red hair shanks #shanks smut #shanks fluff #shanks x y/n #shanks angst #shanks one piece #one piece fluff #one piece smut #one piece #one piece shanks #one piece x reader #peter gadiot #opla!shanks x reader #opla!shanks

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sports-on-sundays · 2 months

Note

you can do one where the reader and Pedri are best friends and she ends up declaring herself to him but he says he doesn't feel the same way, so a while later she starts getting closer to one of his friends and Pedri gets jealous and realizes his true feelings feelings for the reader💓💓

make up your mind / Pedri González

Summary: Pedri x female!reader - In which Pedri changes his mind.

Requested?: For sure!

Author's Note: Pedri anons 💓 Also I'm a sucker for picnic scenes; theyre my go-to when I can't think of a good setting. Send help.

This is it. This is the day. We'll sit in the sun, I'll take his hand, tell him the truth, and...

Hopefully he'll feel the same way.

As you park your car, you gradually reach out to switch off the radio and glance at Pedri, who is seated beside you. Just as you are about to say something, he flashes a grin and reaches over to switch the radio back on. With a slight chuckle, he explains, "I like this song."

You can't help but smile back. "Quevedo is your favorite." It's less of a question and more of a statement.

He agrees with a nod, turning off the radio after the song ends. "By the way, where did the idea of a picnic come from, anyway?" He opens the car door as you get out together.

What you want to say is Well, honestly, Pedri, because it's a beautiful day to admit to your handsome face in the sunshine that I'm in love with you. What you do say is: "I don't know. Just wanted to hang out with you, and I didn't have any better ideas."

You have formed a terrible habit of not saying what you're thinking to Pedri.

Today that's going to change.

As you walk alongside Pedri, swinging your arm, you let your hands brush on purpose. That doesn't stop you from blushing, so you look at your feet. You carry the blanket, and he carries the food. Finally you find a nice spot by the water, under the shade of a tree and lay down the blanket. You plop down and look up at Pedri with a playful grin. He sets the food down and sits down, criss-cross, across from you. You both kick off your sandals, and you smile giddily as you start taking out the food.

Pedri has, of course, realized your nervous excitement by now, and asks with an amused tone, "So, what is it? What's got you in such a good mood?"

A part of you desperately wants to just let it spill now, but the smarter part of you says that's not a good idea. That this isn't the best timing. You want to say, Well, Pedri, the thing that has got me in such a mood is that for years now I've been holding back my feelings for you and I've finally decided today is the day I'm just going to tell you, because I've got this hunch you might just feel the same way as I do.

Instead, you shrug. "Just a beautiful day. It's sunny, the water is beautiful, I made myself my favorite sandwich, and I'm enjoying all of it relaxing with my best friend in the shade. What is there not to be in a good mood about?"

Pedri seems to accept this answer with a nod, and replies, "Good point. It is quite lovely. I appreciate you inviting me."

You nod, and hand him the little lunch you promised you'd make him. He smiles, pleased. You grin back, watching him take a bite, and feel a little swarm of butterflies in your stomach as he congratulates. "Very good! Thanks so much for offering to bring me some lunch."

It, truthfully, is completely your pleasure. Seeing him enjoying anything you've done for him or said to him pretty much fills you with pure joy. If you could explain this to him, you would. But instead you respond with a simple, "You're welcome."

So you eat together, and as you do this, you subtly try to move closer to him. Eventually, you end up sitting side by side on the blanket, gazing at the water, legs stretched out, and sharing a gentle touch. With the meal done, you're now simply basking in the warmth of the sun.

And you know it's now or never. You swallow. It's silent. This is the time.

"Hey, uh, Pedri...?" you ask slowly, looking up toward his face.

"Yes?" he's smiling. You smile back as your eyes meet his.

You feel as confidence gradually grows in you. You swallow but say, "There's... there's something that's been on my mind for a while now. Something I've had on my mind. I've had it on my mind to tell you..."

He nods, looking slightly concerned, since you're now speaking in a softer, more serious tone.

You deeply inhale and exhale, before letting it go. You grab Pedri's hand as the words, "Pedri, I like you. Like, as more than a friend. And I have for a while now," tumble out from your mouth.

He stares. His mouth opens and closes. His face flushes. Your heart skips a beat.

Say something.

Tell me you like me back.

You watch as he swallows. He softly slips his hand out of yours. You swallow.

"Y/n... that's... I'm sorry... that's very sweet... But I'm afraid, I, uh..."

You feel a lump in your throat.

"...I'm afraid I don't feel the same way."

You cough. Stare ahead. "You... don't...?"

He speaks quickly but quietly, as though it's awkward to say, and he's trying to be gentle and honest at the same time.

No matter how much of a gentle tone he uses, nothing about that honesty can make you feel better.

"You're a lovely girl," he begins. "And I do love you, but as a friend... You're... You're like a sister to me. I've known you for years. I love spending time with you. I love you. Just... not in that way... I'm sorry."

You stand up and slip on your sandals, looking down. You can't let him see you cry over this. You need to understand. You can't let him feel bad over it, because he's done nothing wrong. He's just being honest. You wouldn't want him to pretend to like you.

You just want him to really like you.

But he doesn't.

The fact that he flat out said he sees you as a sister.

That hurts.

"Wait," Pedri says, standing up with you. He takes your arm. "I'm sorry- I-"

"It's okay," you respond. "Don't be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong."

It was you who messed up. You shouldn't have told him. You shouldn't have been so confident that he would feel the same way.

You grab hold of the blanket, which feels too soft. And the birds' chirping is overly shrill, and the water is too loud, and its waves are terribly big. And the grass and the trees are too green, and there are ants scurrying over your feet and the blanket, and you have a mosquito bite, and there's an empty soda bottle that someone carelessly tossed into the water, now floating away. Everything that was a flawless day just moments ago has turned, suddenly, utterly dreadful.

You almost throw up that delicious lunch in your mouth.

Pedri is saying something, but you can feel tears threatening to fall.

You interrupt him and say blandly, "I think I should go now... Bye."

As you walk off, Pedri calls after you. He follows you, and he doesn't want you to go. But you tell him to leave you alone, and he does. And you get in your car, leave him there, and go home.

It's ruined. Its all messed up and awkward with Pedri. You're aware he's trying not to have it that way, but it still is, anyway.

And you're pretty sure you're not imagining that all the sudden when you hang out together, he'd prefer to have someone else with him.

Well, sometimes it's some of his friends outside of football. Sometimes, more often, it's his teammates, because you already know them. You and Pedri met because of football. You like his friends/teammates in Barcelona.

Most of the time, it's Ferran or Gavi, which makes complete sense, since those are his closest buddies on the team. They're both sweet, and you get along well with both. Ferran, perhaps, more so, for whatever reason. He's got a great sense of humor and comes up with interesting conversation topics.

That's the thing, though. You feel more inclined, when it's you, Pedri, and Ferran hanging out, to relate with and talk with Ferran, just because there's not that terrible awkwardness between you and him.

Gavi's super nice too, but usually he doesn't have much to talk to you about, and then you just end up feeling like the tag-along.

Nothing against him, though. You get it.

He just wants to hang out with his friend.

You just wish Pedri would choose one way or another. He's always inviting you, but seems to have these strict walls he's building. You get it. Maybe he's just nervous. Maybe he doesn't want to give you hope.

But really, it's your fault. If you hadn't let the stupid confession tumble out, you'd still be good, normal friends like you have been for years.

You wish Pedri would either be that good, normal friend to you like he always had, you just cut you out of his life. Then at least you'd (hopefully) just eventually move on and get over him.

But, no. Instead, he's balancing in this weird in-between place. And you hate it.

And then, one day, you get a surprising text. Ferran had your number in a group chat with a few other people, but now you're getting a private text from him.

Ferran Torres: Hey, do you want to hang out?

Me: Why are you asking me, and not Pedri?

Ferran Torres: Because this doesn't have to do with Pedri. Im wondering if you want to hang out with me.

Me: No one else with us?

Ferran Torres: I was thinking just you and I. Unless you don't think so.

You stare at the screen, unsure. What is he getting at? You wouldn't want him to think you like him any more than a friend, but at the same time, spending some time together sounds nice.

Well, you already have your heart set on Pedri, whether he feels the same or not.

But you remember when, years ago, you were first getting to know Pedri, you were considering these same sorts of things. You finally sigh, shrug, and type back,

Me: Sure. What have you got in mind?

That's just the beginning. As time goes on, you and Ferran continue to grow closer, while the whole time you and Pedri are drifting farther and farther apart. While you enjoy Ferran's friendship, it's a different dynamic compared to your relationship with Pedri. Pedri was more open and understanding, providing a sense of comfort and security. He would hold your hand, lend a listening ear, and offer advice only when requested. Ferran, on the other hand, is more of a lighthearted friend with whom you have a good time. If you encounter any difficulties, he'll ask you questions about it, or try to come up with a solution, or distract you.

It's just different.

You lost your friendship with Pedri, but gained one with Ferran. But in the end, it feels more like a loss in the end. Your heart aches for Pedri.

You're not sure how Ferran feels about you, but you're careful about boundaries. You can't let your feelings get away from you after getting your heart broken so recently.

But from Ferran's point of view? Who knows how he feels?

One day, as you walk Ferran to your car after his training, since you're planning on going for lunch somewhere, you pass Pedri. Unexpectedly, Pedris eyes meet yours. In that fleeting moment, his eyes reflect a mix of contrition, confusion, and overall just strong emotion. It's as if he carries the weight of countless questions, yet only one manages to escape his lips, spoken in the gentlest of tones, "Hey, Y/n. I understand you're busy, but... Would you mind sending me a text later, when you're free? I'd like to talk it over."

You're not sure what 'it' is, but you nod.

When Ferran questions you about it, you admit that you're not even sure what Ferran's friend meant, but you feel nervous and excited about it at the same time.

Later, in the evening, you do text Pedri, telling him you can talk now. And he immediately asks if you'd like to come over to his house for dinner.

You say yes.

He tells you when he'll pick you up.

And you spring up off the coach, a strange hyper-excitement suddenly filling you. You go to your room and fix up your hair and makeup nicely. Nicer than you usually do. But of course, you always do that for Pedri. By the time you're done, the doorbell rings. You slip on your shoes and open the door, and there's Pedri.

His hair is a little messier than usually, strands falling over his forehead, but you find that cute. In the glow of the porch light, his very dark brown eyes shine, and he looks angelic. His cheeks and lips are a light pink color, and he's clean-shaven. He wears a navy blue hoodie, black sweatpants, and black gloves on his hands. You smile. He looks so comfy! "Are you chilly?" you ask.

He smiles back. "A little... Anyway, want to come to my car?"

"Well, have you started making dinner at your house yet? Because if not, we can just stay here...?"

He nods, looking (strangely) a little relieved by this suggestion. "Yeah, I haven't started on dinner yet. Maybe we should just stay here?"

You nod, opening the door wider for him. You walk in together, and he slips off his shoes as you say, "I'll just put a pizza in the oven. You can just go in the sitting room and wait for me."

He nods with a little smile and does just that.

You're fairly quick with the pizza.

And when you come back to the sitting room and see Pedri sitting there all comfortable, the thing you want most to do is sit down right next to him on the big grey couch and cuddle up. But instead, you walk to the blue chair on the other side of the coffee table and sit down on that.

But you're surprised when Pedri shakes his head. "No, no. You can sit next to me." He pats the spot, right next to himself.

You swallow but nod and sit down, still making sure you don't touch.

But Pedri wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer to his side, and gently prods your head to rest on his shoulder. You're feeling flustered now as you mutter, "Pedri...?" For such a long time, there's been such a distance between the two of you, and you're assuming that's because he didn't want you to think he liked you. He wanted to keep those boundaries.

Now, as he gently rests his head by the top of yours, all of that is gone. He whispers softly, "I've just missed you, Y/n. A lot."

You swallow and mutter, "But I see you weekly, at least."

He nods slowly, but then says, "But I miss talking with you, being able to touch you, and hold your hand." He gently takes your hand.

With every word from him, your face heats up furthermore. Would a friend really say thing like that? Friends don't talk like that, do they?

Well, Ferran sure doesn't.

You entwine your fingers, slowly, around his, and as if reading your mind, he asks, "So... How's Ferran?"

You look up in confusion, meeting his eyes. Your faces are so close... "You know. You spend more time with him than me, still. It's not like my whole life is centred around Ferran Torres. If anyone's was, that'd be sad for them," you chuckle, teasing your friend.

Pedri chuckles and says, "Wow. That's harsh. But, no, I mean, like, your... relationship with him." He seems to be choosing his words very carefully.

You blink in puzzlement. "It's... fine. We get along great..."

Pedri sighs, seems to consider something, and then finally says, "Alright... I guess I'll just ask it straight-out then." He swallows and says much softer, "So... are you and Ferran dating...?"

Your eyes widen. You open your mouth, close it, and then open it again to say, "No. Not at all. I don't like him that way, and I don't think he likes me that way, but if he did, I'd say no."

"Much like how I said no, huh?" he mutters.

You stare at him blankly, and you feel a little hurt, but nod. "I... I guess so..."

Suddenly, in the other room, the timer starts going off, indicating that the pizza has finished cooking. You rise slowly and stiffly, utterly perplexed about what on earth Pedri is trying to accomplish in this conversation, yet completely sure what it is doing is absolutely messing with your head.

When you come back with the pizza and two plates, Pedri grabs your hand and practically pulls you back down to sit next to him again. He wraps his arm around your back as you give yourself and him each a piece, feeling strange. He finishes his portion quickly, which compels you to do the same. Once he's finished, he thanks you, saying it was delicious, before a slightly awkward silence settles in once again.

Pedri slowly sets his plate down on the coffee table, before looking at you again, locking eyes. He hesitates, before asking, "So... do you still feel the same way about me?"

You nod slowly, blushing. "Yeah..."

He nods back, before murmuring, "What would you do if I said I feel the same way?"

Your heart skips a beat, but your eyebrows crinkle together. "If you do, then..."

"Then why didn't I say it when you confessed it to me?"

You nod. "R-Right. Exactly."

He sighs. "I don't know... It's just- I didn't know. I thought this was just a friendship, and that I didn't need a relationship any deeper. I was happy with what we had and didn't want to change it, and any feelings I had for you I honestly ignored because I didn't want to feel that way... I wanted to just be friends. But then you said it and I didn't accept it and we grew apart because I was confused and didn't know how to deal with any of these emotions... And then you started to get closer with Ferran, and even hanging out with him more than with me, and... Honestly, Y/n, I felt jealous. I had no reason to, because I was the one that rejected you, but as soon as I saw that, I thought 'No, that's Y/n. I'm the one who should be spending that time with her. I'm the one who has known her for years.' And then I started thinking maybe I really do like you back, and the only thing that could make stupid me realize it is when we started growing apart and you started spending a bunch of time with some other guy. Even if the 'other guy' is one of my best buddies."

It's a strange feeling, because you're shocked, happy, and also your head is spinning and your stomach is absolutely full of butterflies. You swallow, and at first when you try to speak nothing comes out, but on the second try you manage to murmur, "So..." you squeeze his hand. "Does that mean you'll give me a shot...?"

He nods right away, and suddenly pulls you into a hug. He wraps his arms around your back, you can feel his muscles, despite the gentleness of the touch. The smells of his cologne fills your nostrils, and it feels familiar, like home. He pulls you closer to himself, gently rubbing your back, holding you closely. You let your head snuggle into his shoulder, and he whispers in your ear, "Yes, please... I'd love that. I missed you so much..."

For some reason, you feel yourself getting a little emotional. You sniff and mutter, "Pedri, I missed you too. I'm so glad you made up your mind about me..." You giggle a little, trying to push away the strange tearful feeling coming on.

When you finally, slowly lean away from the hug, your hand rest against Pedri's chest, and he looks at you with the most shining, happy, contented eyes you've ever seen. It makes you feel warm inside. He gently kisses your cheeks, which makes you smile and blush, before pulling you close to him again for more cuddles.

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tokkishouse · 1 year

Note

from one bestie to another

could you gimme the most hair twirling, leg kicking, downright teeth rotting tighnari fluff with a sprinkle of mutual pining a girlie could ask for? pretty please and thank you 😗👉👈💕

I GOTCHU BESTIE!! Im getting a truck of sugar rn among other ingredients

(Sfw) Buy Your Time

Characters: Tighnari x GN!Reader

Warnings: fluffluffluff, mutual pining, Tighnari gets jealous

WC: ~1.4k words

"Alright I've got bandages, medicinal herbs, slime concentrate-- anything else I can get for you 'nari?" you ask, glancing up from the pile of supplies on your counter. Tighnari shakes his head, offering you a small smile. Hearing your nickname for him made his chest bloom with warmth and he could feel his tail curl up, mirroring the joy he was feeling.

"That's it this week. Thanks again." You smile and start calculating the price.

"Let me get that total for you and I'll send you off!"

This was Tighnari's weekly routine. He'd travel to Sumeru City weekly for supplies and stop by your shop. You had popped up not too long ago and were much smaller than the other stalls selling medicinal supplies. He had approached yours in curiosity. He was your first customer for the week, and you were practically vomiting up words in an attempt to convince him to buy from you.

He appreciated your honesty and integrity, only selling your supplies just above their raw value. The surprise on your face and tears bubbling in your eyes at the large first order left the fox with a warm feeling in his chest.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Your joy was immeasurable, and you sent him home with extra products he didn't even pay for. Thus began your relationship as merchant and buyer. You knew that at 10am sharp, Tighnari would appear ready to restock his stash, and maybe tell you about some new species he found or the latest expedition.

"Being a forest ranger sure sounds dangerous, 'Nari. You don't get very hurt, do you?" The man wants to curl up under his tail in pure guilt when he sees your concerned expression. He doesn't have the heart to tell you that he's had quite a few close calls in his life, including the time he was struck by lightning. Instead, he chooses to assuage your fears, assuring you that he's quite careful, which isn't a lie necessarily.

He doesn't know when he started falling for you-- was it when you took time out of your day to visit Gandharva Ville and check on Colleii's recovery? Or the other day you came and visited to help him tend to injured rangers? Maybe it was the way your whole body physically seemed to come alive every time he visited your shop. Sure, you were friendly with all your customers, radiating joy like a ball of sunshine. But he wasn't blind-- he notices the way your eyes light up and how your speech speeds up when talking to him. The attention you gave to him was special. He lived to see it.

The growing fondness was not isolated to just Tighnari-- you would never admit this aloud, but you had also grown fond of the forest ranger. He had shot up on your list of favored people months ago when he approached your stall with genuine interest. Every time he'd visit, he'd bring something more valuable than mora-- his time.

No matter how busy he seemed, or irrelevant the topic was, Tighnari always hung around your stall, sharing his stories or even just his feelings at the time. His attention was only on you, ears pointed towards you and eyes piercing, begging for you to go on for longer about whatever mundane daily happenings you experienced.

It was sickening. Maybe it was because he interacted with all sorts of flowers (you could always spot the softest dusting of pollen on his clothes), but Tighnari was intoxicating. You found yourself drawn to him and counting down the days to his next visit. You wanted to be near him constantly.

Any outsider who looked at you two for more than two seconds could tell that you both were head over heels for each other. You both were like school children, shifting and dancing around the reality of your feelings. Onlookers could only hope you two would realize the truth quickly and confess.

✦✧✦✧

"Hey, Tighnari, what kind of flowers does y/n like?"

Tighnari nearly snaps his pencil in half, ears perking up at attention. He feels his blood run cold, a barely audible growl rumbling through his chest.

"What was that?" he just barely manages to hiss out, slowly turning his gaze towards Amir, his fellow forest watcher. The man has a sheepish smile on his face, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

"It's a bit cliche to fall for a healer, but I can't help it-- y/n is just beautiful! And they're so caring," he continues, then lets out an embarrassed laugh. "I want to take them out on a date! Or at least get to know them."

Tighnari's expression is unreadable as he stares at Amir. His mind races as he tries to process what he's just heard. Of course, I wouldn't be the only one to fall for them. But Amir? Does he really think he has a chance? Tighnari sneers mentally, and he can feel his tail straighten out in agitation, tugging at his lower back.

"You hang out with them a lot! Help me out Tighnari!" Amir pleads, clasping his hands together. The fox raises an eyebrow, unimpressed by his fellow ranger's desperation. Perhaps, a white lie wouldn't hurt. If it keeps Amir from acting stupid.

"I can't help you," Tighnari answers, and Amir looks up flabbergasted at his superior's denial of his request.

"If you want to court someone, you have to do the work yourself. It won't mean as much if I just tell you what y/n likes. Why not get to know them yourself?" The dog trainer stands there dumbfounded, but he takes Tighnari's words into consideration. There was some merit to it after all. And a person like you deserves to have full efforts made towards romancing you.

"I suppose you're right. Well, tha-" Amir begins, but he's cut off by a bone-chilling glare from Tighnari.

"Besides, I'm already courting y/n. Choose someone else."

✦✧✦✧

The next time Tighnari visits your shop, he's not greeted with a warm smile or a cheery "Welcome back 'nari!" Instead, he receives an unimpressed stare and crossed arms from you. He offers a weird smile, taking in your body language.

"What's got your roots tangled up, y/n? Did I not return on time?" He jokes, standing in front of your stall. You snort and lean forward, resting your hands on the counter, careful not to knock down the supplies you prepared.

"Did you tell Amir that we were dating?" you ask cooly, and Tighnari can feel his nerves burn like a wildfire. That blabbermouth. I should've known he'd run off and confirm that information himself. Tighnari clears his through and fixes his smile.

"Technically, I said I was courting you. He came up with dating on his own!" You roll your eyes and turn away to dig through your other supplies, not giving him an answer.

Tighnari swallows thickly, watching your figure, desperately trying to pick apart your body language. Did I overstep my boundaries? Are they pissed off? They didn't blow up in my face but they didn't seem too pleased either. Why are they-

"You know, if you wanted to take me out on a date, you could've just asked me out," you muse, slamming down a giant pouch of mistflower stamens. The archer blinks at you owlishly, and you can see the cogs in his brain turning as he processes what you say. When it clicks, his cheeks turn a dusty rose, and he suddenly can't make eye contact with you. His tail was a dead giveaway though, curling and twisting in excitement.

"I take it you like me back then?"

"You sure know a ton about plant life but not about reading obvious signs, huh?" He turns to look at you in shock, opening his mouth to counter your statement. You cut him off with a quick peck to his cheek, pressing the supplies into his hands.

"I'll be ready in 3 nights, 6 o'clock sharp." You poke his nose gently, and he sneezes instinctively. "Don't be late, or I'll make the hunter the hunted~"

@cosmi1k Tighnari content ❤️

Requests (both sfw and nsfw) are open~!

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact tighnari x reaeder #genshin impact tighnari #tighnari x reader #tighnari fluff #tighnari x reader fluff #tighnari imagines #tokki writes #mooties ✿ V

1K notes · View notes

madaqueue · 8 days

Text

Dripping in Gold | Chapter 10

synopsis: finding a job was never easy, and why even bother trying after you meet satoru gojo, a man with mysterious and exorbitant wealth, who wants nothing more than to spoil you with it? the only caveat to your little arrangement is that it can never, ever, become personal.

pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader

themes/content: non-curse modern au, sugar daddy gojo. language, fluff, angst. kissing, mention of possible abuse. 18+, MDNI

word count: 3.6k

a/n: HERE IT IS!!!! LAST CHAPTER!!!!!! PLOT!!!!!!! thank you all for the support, this has been such a fun series to write <3 xoxoxo

previous chapter | series masterlist

Both of you awake from your fatigue-induced nap a few hours later, the morning sun now bright in the sky. Adjusting in bed, the soreness of your body hits you and you groan in discomfort. The sound is enough to rouse the man next to you as he groggily rubs his eyes.

“Good morning, again,” he laughs softly, reaching down to rub your back.

As his fingertips knead into your skin you lean into his touch, wrapping a leg around his waist under the covers.

“Sore?” he asks, intuitively reading the way you melt under the gentle pressure of his palms against your tight muscles.

“Mhm,” you hum against his chest.

He places a kiss on the top of your head, warm against the heat of your body. “Let me get you cleaned up, yeah? How’s a nice hot shower sound?” he muses idly.

You nod softly in response, not wanting to leave the cocoon of sheets that covers you both but knowing you should eventually get your day started, and having Satoru with you makes the idea much more palatable.

He shifts his weight off the bed, hooking one arm under your knees and the other behind your back to pick you up and bridal carry you to the bathroom. He takes care of everything, gingerly rubbing shampoo into your scalp, attentively rinsing suds off your body, following the trail of water with his lips as he leaves kisses over every inch of you he can find.

When he’s sufficiently cleaned off the physical remnants of the sinful experiences you two shared over the past day, he grabs one of the towels hanging on the back of your door and wraps it around your shoulders.

His tenderness makes your heart swell, the way he so kindly and gently takes care of you without you even having to ask. He knows how to love you silently, how to show his calm adoration towards you in these acts.

The two of you make your way back out to your bed as you sit next to him, leaning against his bare shoulder. He shakes his head, sending droplets flying from his damp hair across the room and onto your face.

A giggle erupts from your lips, the sound bright like windchimes to his ears. “‘Toruuuu,” you whine jokingly as the cold water splashes your skin.

“Sorry,” he blushes, shaking out one more time as you scream through a laugh.

You huff, moving to sit behind him as you pull the towel from your shoulders and place it on his head. Your hands rub it against his hair, Satoru tilting his head back as his eyes flutter closed. Through the warm sun filtering in through the blinds, you silently dry his hair, smiling to yourself at the pure, innocent intimacy of the moment.

When you finish you place a kiss to his forehead, his eyelashes flickering as a grin forms across his face.

Suddenly, a pit forms in your stomach. You’ve been ignoring it, dreading it, running from it for the past day, not wanting to ruin the joy you’ve felt with Satoru. But now it’s here: you have to talk to him.

A sigh leaves your lips, sadness forming across your features. Your eyebrows furrow as your thoughts threaten to spiral.

You can’t lose him again, you can’t. Maybe you shouldn’t talk to him. Maybe you should lie, say you didn’t have feelings for him; but how could you hide it? Things were bad when he was gone, like a dark cloud shadowing everything in your life until he came back, and now you’re supposed to just throw that sunshine away?

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks, sensing the shift in your demeanor.

Desperately blinking away the tears that started forming in your eyes as you were lost in thought, you shake your head.

Satoru wraps his arms around you, pulling you next to him. “Hey, it’s okay, talk to me, pretty girl,” he hums.

“I…I can’t,” your voice waivers.

He places a kiss to your cheek, your skin hot in frustration and fear. “Can’t what?” he asks innocently, trying to piece together what could have you so distressed.

This morning had been perfect, he cherished every second he had spent with you back in his life. Had he somehow unknowingly done something wrong, something that hurt you? The idea pained him to think about, tightening his grasp around you as he tried to push it away.

“I can’t lose you again,” you whisper weakly.

“Sweetheart, you won’t-” he starts.

You cut him off before he can continue, knowing that if you don’t say it now you may never get your chance.

“Satoru, I still have feelings for you. You were all I could think about when we were apart, every morning felt heavier, every action more painful, I couldn’t do anything without you.” Tears start spilling over your lashes as you force your way through the words. “I want you back in my life, but…shit…I want it to be you. I want us to be together, and if you can’t do that, then I don’t think I can see you anymore.”

Pausing, you look up at him through glossy eyes, the sight of you making his heart nearly shatter all over again.

Fuck, how could he explain this to you? How could he tell you everything? More importantly, would you still want him if you knew?

His gaze shifts down to his hands in his lap, his knuckles had begun turning white as he clenched them together in stress.

The words he knows he needs to say echo in his mind as he struggles to will himself into saying them. Taking in an uneven breath, he starts, “I’m sorry, but you know that’s not how this works-”

“Bullshit,” you cut him off abruptly, the harshness of your tone making him flinch. “I know that’s what you said last time, but there’s no way you believe that.”

It can’t be true, right? He acts like he loves you, the way he takes care of you, the way he holds you, the way he glows when you’re around him, the way everything in him softens in your presence - that has to be love, right?

He sighs, shoving his hands together to hide the way they’re shaking.

Reaching over towards him, you place a hand on his cheek, tilting his head towards you. His eyes are low, unable to meet yours as they begin to cloud with sorrow.

“Please,” your voice waivers, “just tell me what’s going on. Tell me you love me, or that you don’t, I don’t care, I just need to know. Please, Satoru,” you plead, “please.”

His thoughts are fuzzy, conflicted with his responsibilities and his feelings. He knows you deserve clarity, answers, but is it worth the risk of losing everything? Losing you?

“Okay,” he whispers, unable to raise his voice any further. His gaze finally lifts to yours, his lashes blinking slowly over his glassy irises.

Nervousness builds in his chest as he struggles to find the words to begin.

“Um…I guess I should tell you about my family,” he begins.

–

Ever since Satoru Gojo was born he knew he was special.

His parents used to tell him he would inherit the world, that he can and will have everything he desires. He wanted a new toy? It was bought and delivered that night. A nanny upset him? She was gone the next day. He was hungry? A buffet was prepared with his favorites. Every person who worked at his estate learned to recognize the sounds of his shrill cries, any minor distress a sign that something must be done to please him.

Throughout his childhood all he did was learn, training for the day he would be allowed to take over the family business. Every day was spent with knowledge, his teachers allowing his self-directed nature to lead them through his studies. If he was curious about plants they would stroll through the gardens, showing him which ones were edible and which could be poisonous; if he saw a word he didn’t recognize they would read old texts, working through languages with ease; if he stayed up late enough he would inquire about the stars, learning the development of the universe and the physics of planetary motion.

By the time he was twelve, he fluently spoke ten languages, could easily solve graduate-level mathematics problems, and understood the human psyche in a way that afforded him incredible control of his, and other’s, emotions.

Yet, the one thing he couldn’t seem to shake was his empathy.

Growing up he was never allowed friends, always deemed a needless distraction by his parents. They needed him to be cruel, to take and take and take in order to get what was rightfully his; after all, that was how they had managed to get to where they were. Caring too much about what others thought or felt was an invitation for disaster, one that simply could not be permitted. Besides, there was no reason for Satoru to be near anyone who was so, undeniably, less than him.

But unfortunately, Satoru was kind.

One day, his parents observed him kneeling in the garden as he picked flowers for one of his many nannies, the thorns poking at his skin until small trails of blood ran down his fingers. He presented the bouquet to her with a smile on his face, knowing he had chosen her favorite colors.

The next morning he was called into their office, a room he was rarely allowed into. The high ceilings made the space feel cold, despite the fireplace crackling in the corner.

They told him he was foolish, stupid, for what he did: someone of his stature should never dare bend before anyone, nor present them with such an indecent show of affection. She had already been fired for her indiscretion, and they assured him that he would be punished more severely for the next infraction.

He wiped away the tears spilling down his cheeks, dirt still fresh under his fingernails, as he realized what he had done, that it was his fault. He swore to be better, he promised it to them. However, no matter what they did, his parents could not seem to train him out of this awful habit of caring for people. So, they simply continued firing anyone he seemed to grow close to.

As time went on he grew increasingly forlorn, spending hours wandering through the massive estate alone. His sadness eventually began affecting his studies, so his parents reached a compromise: he could have one peer.

Suguru Geto was introduced to him the next day, the boy from a nearby school who similarly showed intellectual promise, and the pair immediately became close. Satoru had never had someone to be around like this, someone his age with his interests, and he cherished the new relationship they formed. Eventually, he learned to call the boy his friend.

Although Satoru spent most of his time continuing his education, every free moment he had he would spend with Suguru. They grew up together, sharing in the experience of boyhood, one Satoru had long since forgotten.

When he turned 18, his parents informed him that he needed to gain further experience before he would be allowed to inherit the company; after all, he had spent his entire life at the estate, and while he had learned immeasurable knowledge from the library full of texts, he had not yet had the opportunity to see how the world truly functioned.

So, Satoru and Suguru moved out, into their apartment together. Of course it was no problem as his family owned the building, and nearly every building in the city, in addition to the power companies, the car companies, the manufacturing plants, and effectively every other corporation in the area.

While nothing explicitly had their name on it, the Gojo family owned the majority of capital across the country, and they truthfully preferred it that way as it allowed them to work in secrecy. Other, more selfish groups tried to overtake them, but their pride always cut their time short in their desperation to be known, to be recognized. The Gojo family instead valued privacy, security, and trust.

It was for this reason that Satoru was never allowed to marry.

Not only because his family wouldn’t dare to fragment their wealth, but also because no single person could ever be deserving of the being that is Satoru Gojo.

In being born special, he was forced to sacrifice normalcy.

–

These thoughts, these ideals, were ones he had to accept from an early age. Every ounce of affection he felt for anyone was a weakness, a flaw, something that he should rid himself of. As a result, he lived a lonely life, despite the material pleasures he was afforded. The only person who could ever understand him was Suguru, yet even he struggled to connect with Satoru in the way he craved.

So, he chose to fill his life with pleasure anywhere else he could find, the most direct route often leading to sex. He could easily separate his emotions from the actions, never daring to let the cracks of his heart show. He walled up his feelings with rules, assuring himself that so long as he followed his self-imposed commandments he would be okay.

Yet, when he met you, it’s like the foundation started to crumble.

He swore he only spent time with women to fuck them, yet you two didn’t even hook up after your first dinner; he swore that there would be no second dates, yet your car broke down, so of course he had to help you; he swore he wouldn’t get attached, yet he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about you every moment you were apart.

He swore to never let things get personal, yet here he is, in your bed, telling you everything.

–

“Satoru?” Your soft voice tethers him back to reality.

His skin feels hot as you wipe away the tears he didn’t even notice were spilling down his cheeks.

“Mhm?” he croaks, his voice hoarse after talking non-stop for what felt like hours as he recounted his life, his struggles, his feelings, to you.

Placing a gentle kiss to his temple, you continue stroking his hair out of his eyes from where it had fallen as he spoke to you. His gaze is still downturned towards his lap, the only place he had been looking as he couldn’t bring himself to face you as he bared his soul.

You reach a hand out to his, holding his shaking palms as your fingers intertwine. “Thank you,” you whisper, “thank you for telling me.”

He nods weakly, trying to stop himself from spiraling: you hate him, you think he’s evil, awful, untrustworthy, unlovable, you never want to see him again, fuck, should he just leave now and save you the trouble of saying it? He ruined it, he ruined everything-

“I love you,” you quietly blurt out.

For a moment, everything in his mind goes quiet.

You…love him?

His eyes flit to your face, meeting your gaze for the first time since he started sharing the story of his life. His lips are parted slightly as he takes in uneven breaths, his cheeks still damp with tears. The sight almost breaks your heart, how fragile he looks, how afraid. You want to throw your arms over his shoulders and hold him but you’re worried the action might cause him to shatter before your eyes.

“Really?” is all he can bring himself to mutter.

“Yes, Satoru,” you hum, the way you say his name so sweetly making his heart race. “I love you.”

And then, his lips are on yours. One of his hands goes to the side of your face, holding you as if to prevent you from slipping away as he kisses you tenderly. You feel the cool wetness of his cheeks against your skin, his lips warm as he leans into you.

“I love you too,” he whispers into your mouth, not daring to separate for even a moment.

He loves you. You love him. For right now, that’s all you need.

–

As your relationship continues to blossom over the next few months, you and Satoru become more and more comfortable with the situation. Of course there are a few growing pains - he stops paying you, obviously, but he still manages to treat you every time you go out. You’ve come to terms with the fact that his family will never know about you, but you’re not sure you’d want to meet them anyways given how they treated Satoru, the emotional turmoil they caused him.

Eventually the two of you move in together, in the same building as his old apartment he shared with Suguru so he doesn’t have to be too far from his best friend, and of course he gets the penthouse unit. As you carry in the boxes of your belongings, you can’t help but realize just how little you own compared to him, but you don’t mind, especially because Satoru spends the next few weeks taking you to new stores everyday, letting you pick out any furniture or decorations that make the space feel like yours. In the back of his mind, he remembers the house where he spent his childhood, one that always made him feel like a guest, and he never wants that for you.

For the first time in your life, things are easy.

Since Satoru’s family owns the building, you don’t have to worry about paying rent (an irony that is not lost on either of you given how you met in the first place). He’s also able to use his money on anything his family deems ‘necessary for his survival,’ and to him the only thing he needs to survive is you, so of course your every wish is taken care of - nice meals, travel, clothes, anything he could think of to spoil you with.

Finally, he feels like he’s using his past, his family, his wealth, for good. Every time he sees you smile he feels like he’s doing good.

But deep down, in the corners of his mind, he knows he can’t continue like this forever, the knowledge of his family one he can’t suppress. Eventually they’ll find out, they’ll cut him off, or worse, they’ll make him cut you off. He can’t go back, he can’t work for them after he’s seen the life he could have with you; so, he starts planning.

On the one year anniversary of the day you officially started dating, the day he confessed everything to you, the day you decided you still love him in spite of his past, he decides it’s time to tell you.

Satoru finds you in your shared bedroom, leaping onto the mattress next to you and wrapping his arms around your body.

“‘Toru,” you giggle, the nickname never failing to make him blush.

“I have a surprise for you, sweetheart,” he smiles, peppering your face with kisses.

When he’s covered every inch of your skin in soft pecks, he rolls off the bed and grabs something from the back of the closet.

“Close your eyes,” he instructs, his back turned towards you. Covering your eyes with your palms, you patiently wait as he rummages through your shared belongings.

“Aaaaaand open!” he proclaims.

Standing at the edge of the bed, he holds out a piece of paper, a toothy smile plastered across his face.

“It’s…” you trail off, leaning forward and squinting at the small print, “an email?”

Confusion is evident on your face as Satoru waltzes toward the bed, grin never faltering. “It is,” he confirms. “Read it.”

Holding the paper out to you, your eyes quickly scan over the words.

‘New Hire: Satoru Gojo’

‘Welcome to the school!’

‘high school teacher’

‘starting next Monday’

“Satoru…are you…are you going to be a teacher?” you ask quizzically.

“Mhm,” he hums excitedly, now kneeling next to you on the bed.

“I’m happy for you babe, but why?”

“Because…” he trails off, “if I have a job, then…then we don’t need my parent’s money.”

The realization sets in as your eyes meet his.

You open your mouth to speak, but before you can, he continues.

"You’re my everything, and every day I’ve gotten to spend with you has been better than the last. I want to keep loving you, keep being with you, everyday for the rest of our lives. You and I both know that’s not possible with the threat of my family looming over us, so I…I did this.”

His eyes scan your face, desperate to see your response, his heart beating so fast it feels like it might burst out of his chest.

Without you even realizing it, he had wiped the skies clean of the cloud that had been shrouding you for the past year. The threat of his family was like an invisible weight on you, always there, wherever you went. A part of you knew he had to go back, had to return to the evil that tried to ruin him, to make him just like them. But now, he doesn’t - he doesn’t owe them anything, he doesn’t have to be anything or do anything - he just has to be yours.

When you smile up at him, he swears he feels the warmth of the sun.

“I love you,” you murmur, reaching your arms up around his neck before pulling him into a kiss.

“I love you too,” he whispers, “forever.”

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