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notjustjavierpena · 15 days ago

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Sundays

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A/N: Season 2 of The Last of Us ruined my life, so here is my attempt at fixing my eternal wounds. Lord knows that everyone deserves better. I spent four weeks trying to perfect this. It might be the best thing I’ve ever done. Please be kind and patient with me ❤️

Summary: Joel’s Sundays are for early morning patrol and making babies with you.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Domestic fluff, soft but haunted Joel, banter, teasing, Star Wars reference, kissing, praise kink, dirty talk, pussy eating, fingering, breeding kink, one use of daddy, emotional and filthy sex, creampie, aftercare, cuddling

Word count: 5.7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65911807

Sundays

On Sundays, Joel does the morning patrols while the rest of the town sleeps. When someone asks why he has volunteered to do them, he lies and grumbles something about nobody else wanting to get out of bed during the weekend so he has to. Yet he always wakes up at the crack of dawn without complaint, showers in the miracle of hot water, fixes himself a cup of coffee, and reads his book - they have recently emptied a library on an extensive supply run and they found The Shining on dry shelves - with his glasses perched on his nose. He likes it; the quiet time for himself while feeling your presence in the house as you sleep under warm blankets upstairs. His morning routine always ends with taking off his glasses to put them on their designated spot on his nightstand and kissing your beautiful hair, watching your body curl up contentedly underneath the covers or if he is really lucky, you turning onto your back and sleepily muttering a demand for a proper kiss.

He goes back down, ties his well-worn leather boots on a dining chair, holsters his handgun, throws his rifle over his shoulder, and then leaves with a quiet click of the door.

The Spring air bites slightly in the morning but he doesn’t mind, appreciates the way it wakes him up a bit more and sharpens his focus. He misses you the second he steps out the door, thinks about your warm and soft skin while he checks the front of Ellie’s house, and then walks towards the stables, the gravel crunching underneath his boots. He listens for anything out of the ordinary - can’t be too careful - and even checks the fences surrounding the horses, the weak spots he keeps meaning to patch up himself because he doesn’t trust anyone else to do it right.

Patrol is as usual. He doesn’t expect any danger and thankfully doesn’t find any either, but he is a man of habits and old habits die hard. His free hand rests near the strap of his rifle in case of anything out of the ordinary, but the only time he needs to be on his guard is when Callus, his horse, gets frightened by a rabbit in the bushes along the trail. He calms the animal with a broad, soothing hand and kind words. He thinks about Sarah, about how she would have loved the nature here, and rarely anymore about how her blood felt on his skin.

He is gone for a few hours, three maybe but no more than four. He does all of his usual inner checklists and rides past each checkpoint, all the while thinking about your hair still messy from sleep, your bare foot sticking out from under the blanket.

On his way back, his thoughts continue circling around you. It’s almost dangerous how much he lets his mind drift; how easy it is to get lost in wondering what you’re up to on his way home. He pictures you in the sun coming in through the windows of the house he built for you with hands that have killed but now get to cradle your face too. He loves you most bathed in morning light that makes your skin glow. With a half-laugh, you said you’d be doing housework today, dragging your fingers through his hair last night whilst tangled up in his body.

He wonders if you’re humming to yourself while mopping the floors or fighting extra stubborn dust bunnies underneath the couch. What are you wearing? What are you thinking about? Is it him? Are your souls really so entwined that your thoughts are full of him whenever his are so full of you? Joel doesn’t even know if he believes in that sort of thing - hearts beating in sync like that - but you don’t give him a choice sometimes, a feeling that not even Ellie has ever teased out of him.

When he arrives home, he smiles with his eyes closed at the twinkling sound of the wind chimes hanging on the porch ceiling. There is dust on his boots and his bad knee has started to ache from the slow change in temperature over the last few hours but he feels content. He removes the rifle from his shoulder to leave it by the door and then toes the boots off carefully.

He inhales the smell of home deeply in through his nose before holding his breath to listen for any sound of you. His brown jacket comes off right after he has noticed the quiet movements upstairs that make the house creak just a little. However, it’s not the noisy floorboards but your soft curse that makes him climb the staircase.

A younger version of him - a version that was newer to you - would have first thought that you were up to something sinful and private but Joel now knows that the near-silent swear is one of quiet frustration. You don’t hear him at first, too busy muttering to yourself about the fitted sheet that keeps slipping from your fingers as you try to tug it down over the corner of your shared bed.

“Shit,” you curse again quietly, bent across the bed in a kneeling position with one knee on the mattress and the other stretched out behind you.

He knows he should announce his presence like the gentleman he is but he is too busy trying to catch his hitching breath from the sight of your gorgeous body. The swell of your hips and the dip of your back have his old ticker beating in his chest like a kick drum but it is, more specifically, the choice of your underwear that has him feeling downright lightheaded. Hugging your hips are a pair of lace panties and they’re see-through and barely there but most importantly cute. You probably picked them up from the trading center without much ceremony, drawn by their aesthetic rather than their practicality, and then forgot they existed until laundry day arrived. He can understand why; they are so impractical that they almost piss him off but it doesn’t outweigh the near-laughable way he is already hardening in his jeans.

“Hey baby,” he finally says from the doorway, his hands shaking slightly with how hard it is to not just walk up and grab at your hips as a greeting.

“Joel,” you jump a little in your spot and look at him over your shoulder, the sheet still hanging between your fingers in a secure grip, “You scared the shit outta me!”

“What are you wearing?” He asks simply instead of apologizing, trying to act nonchalant as he walks to the side of the bed but you pick up on the strain in his voice.

You glance down at yourself with a sigh but it just makes your ass jiggle, “Oh, these? They’re my last clean pair right now since I’m doing an epic pile of laundry today. Sun’s coming out. Perfect day for hanging it outside.”

“They’re–” he replies, gaze fixed on your ass. His voice continues in the same strained tone but he doesn’t know how to finish his sentence.

“They’re awful,” you help him and start struggling with the corner of the sheet again, “Feels like my ass is being flossed by lace.”

Joel snorts at that, “Should take ‘em off then.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” You snort yourself, finally managing to pull the sheet over the edge. You flatten it with your palm, caressing it almost as if you’re apologizing for the roughness you’ve caused it and so it looks like it hasn’t been a battle to secure. Then you flop onto your back, stretching your arms out behind you to hold yourself up. The grin on your face is mischievous and sexy yet subtle, the position you’ve put your body in pushing your chest out so he can see your breasts through the thin fabric of your t-shirt. He thought he wanted you badly during his patrol but looking at you now, he thinks he might lose it if he doesn’t touch you soon.

“You’ve got me. Take them off,” he murmurs with a smirk but when you playfully don’t follow orders, he starts leaning down over you slowly with his sore knee dipping into the mattress. You try to crawl back, squealing but he has taken on bigger things than you.

“Joel,“ you stop him by planting your bare foot on his chest but the way your leg bends at the knee just exposes that soft, intimate skin between your legs. He wants to dive into you but he’ll humor you for a moment.

He grabs your ankle to make you laugh but his mind betrays him by reminding him of how fragile his existence here with you is. Jackson remaining completely untouched by reality is a fantasy. He doesn’t tell you, never would tell you how easily it could all go wrong again, because you deserve the fantasy more than he does.

“Joel,” you repeat his name and he comes back to you if only briefly, watching your loving grin with a deep ache in his chest. He hasn’t felt this kind of ache since Sarah’s mother, a tell-tale sign that you are the real thing for him, that he built this house so you can fill it up with love and life.

Life. It seems almost bordering on insanity to be thinking about children at his age in a world so broken but your eyes sparkle in the town square where mothers carry their babies in wraps while trading cartons of strawberries. You deserve to nurture someone other than him because your soul has so much to give.

“If you’re not going to do anything but overthink,” you hum teasingly when time has passed and Joel feels embarrassed for having been lost to his own inner world. His thumb presses into the curve of your Achilles heel, tugging your body closer to himself by wrapping your leg around his waist instead.

“You’re the only person who talks to me like that,” he chuckles softly while his cheeks are slightly crimson.

“It’s good for you,” you shoot back him and it is the truth.

“Was just thinking ‘bout how you do so much that I don’t deserve,” he says with his eyes roaming over your face and chest for a place to kiss. He chooses the column of your throat, “Cooking, cleaning… Lovin’ a man like me.”

“It’s not about deserving,” you muse and sigh at his stubble on your skin, “Do you want me?”

What kind of question is that? He wants you so much that it sometimes feels like it would be easier to live in your veins, to replace his tired and aching bones with yours if it meant never being without you. He sounds psychotic, sounds like something that he read in the string of horror novels he has gathered by now because they feel oddly comforting when there’s something worse on the other side of the gates.

“Forever,” he replies simply. He would rather die than not have you.

“Not too much to ask for if you ask me,” you reach to cup his face, thumbs stroking along his cheekbones until he closes his eyes at the feel, and then pull him to your lips. You kiss him gently for a moment but with how much Joel wants you, he quickly lets it drift into something else, something more. He kisses you with all that want in his body, needs it to stop prickling underneath his skin.

“Have you had breakfast?” He murmurs against your mouth, checking in, the question heavy with care for you.

“No,” you whisper back into another kiss, fingers threading through the hair at the back of his neck, “I was waiting for you.”

“What if, after this, I take you down to the market?” Joel starts descending his lips on your body. He mouths over the mound of your breast, nipping at your sensitive nipple as it strains against the fabric of your top in its arousal, “Could get you fresh strawberries. Or blueberries we could throw in pancakes.”

You let out a soft moan that’s mixed with a breathy laugh, “I’m ovulating.”

“What?” Joel’s voice has gone scratchy. He stills his touch, moving to look up at your face to see what emotion is playing on your features. He didn’t even know you were keeping track. At first, he doesn’t understand your point but you’re quick to let him in.

“There’ll be babies all over the town square,” you grin down at him, cheeks warm with playfulness as you glow, “Just saying.”

“Maybe one of ours one day?” Joel tests the waters.

“Yeah?” Your grin turns into one of unabashed glee.

“Yeah. I wouldn’t mind it if we made a baby,” he answers quietly and moves his palm up under your top to lay it flat against your belly, “We could try. I mean, we’ve been dancing around it for months now, haven’t we?”

“Then don’t pull out,” the way you say those words, like honey dripping from your tongue, makes Joel swear under his breath and his cock jump. He watches the dizzying sight of you shimmying out of the lace underwear before spreading your legs to give room for him. Looking between your legs is like he’s been offered something holy by the devil himself, your slit already glistening and ready for him.

“Wasn’t gonna,” he smooths his hand down your belly to grab the hem of your top again, easing it up your body. You lift your arms over your head to help him get it off, the movement of your body making your tits shake. He moves backward on the bed, kissing his way down your sternum while squeezing your right breast. You arch slightly into the touch, taking it with a soft release of your breath.

Joel revels in you, revels in the fact that you have allowed him something that he hasn’t thought about in decades because the world did not allow it. He wonders if he’ll be a good father again after all these years of never letting himself think of being something to someone so tiny and fragile, dependent. Ellie had already been a mouthy teenager when he got her, and while she had relied on him, she had had one hell of a survival instinct and hadn’t needed any cradling. A newborn will be different; they will need parts of his being that he hasn’t touched since Sarah was handed to him in the hospital. He doesn’t know if he can trust himself to cradle his newborn with hands that now only know how to pull a trigger. He doesn’t know if it is like riding a bike, that it will happen naturally the second he sees them, but he knows that he wants it. God, he wants it.

“What are you doing?” You question when he is suddenly between your legs, his feet out over the edge of the bed, and it makes him stop dead. Maybe he should stop having these thoughts when he makes love to you.

“What do you mean?” He asks as he is halfway down on the floor to get in position. He furrows his brows in confusion.

“You do realize that this is not how babies are made, right?” You giggle in response, sweetly enough to make his cock twitch. Oh, that’s what you’re playing at.

“Ain’t it?” He smirks.

“No!” You snicker.

“Then I guess I’m just doing this for fun,” he replies and swings your legs onto his shoulders. He yanks at your hips to pull you towards his mouth, “C’mere, you.”

You squeak with giggles and Joel’s heart dances to the sound. However, your laughter switches to a moan the second his mouth touches you and covers nearly the whole of you. He doesn’t need to think about it anymore, has learned what you like by now from the countless times he has eaten your pussy like it was his last meal on this godforsaken earth.

“Shit,” you gasp towards the ceiling and cross your ankles on the broadness of his back. He swears that he can hear it in your voice how your eyes roll back when his tongue caresses you in soft strokes. You taste so good that he moans into you, lapping up every drop of sticky sweetness with his tongue.

“I know, baby. I got you,” he pauses briefly to suck on two of his fingers to wet them, following it up by turning his hand toward the ceiling and then sinking the digits inside of you. He expertly presses them upward, curling them into the spot that immediately has your hips jolting.

“There,” you tell him with a whine, twisting your hands in the freshly-made bed sheets with a curse that he doesn’t know if is directed at him or the stupid fitted sheets slipping from the corners again, “Joel— ah, don’t stop!”

You gasp as he rubs into that spot over and over again, pairing it with his mouth circling in on the place you need it the most. Your clit is hard and sensitive, perfect for wrapping his mouth around and sucking until his cheeks hollow.

“Oh God… Oh God,” your pitch rises as he works you open on his hand. At some point, you lose yourself enough in it to start tightening your legs around his back and shoulders. It makes your pelvis lift off the mattress until your back is beautifully arched, makes your cunt press firmly into his mouth for any friction. He grabs your thigh with his free hand for leverage and groans softly into you, taking the reward of sinful pleasure shooting straight to his cock from the way you fuck yourself on his fingers and mouth.

Outside, the heat can’t compete with the warmth coming off of your body. He can hear another gust of wind blowing through the wind chimes around the porch, mixing with the sound of the city waking up and coming to life. He could die right here, he thinks, between your beautiful thighs with skin that smells just faintly of your homemade lavender oil but right now mostly of sex. It wouldn’t be bad, hell, the whole town would say that he died doing what he loved.

A hand tangles in his hair now. You have relented on the sheets in case you’ll rip them, and Joel takes each painful sting of his follicles with pride as you balance on the edge. He sinks his fingers deeper, works his mouth faster to get you to tip the scales and come so hard that the world fades away from the both of you.

It happens a moment later. You hold your breath for just a few seconds, completely quiet as you concentrate while the anticipation within your body crackles like electricity he swears, he can feel.

Then you cry out in relief, throwing your head back and squeezing your thighs around his head so the sound in his good ear blurs as well. He can feel your muscles clamp down on his fingers, near-arrogant pride swelling in his chest from how skilled he is in making you feel good.

He keeps his mouth on you as long as you allow him, the tip of his tongue flicking over your sensitive and goddamn pretty clit until you protest with a whimper. When he draws back, he keeps fucking you through the aftershocks with his fingers and dares look up at you, heart beating out of his chest and his dick hard enough that it is aching. His fingers are wet with your come, making your cunt squelch in the otherwise quiet room.

“Attagirl,” he breaks the silence with a praise in his easy southern drawl, letting his fingers slip out finally, “You liked that, huh?”

You hum approvingly in your afterglow and he can’t get close to you fast enough. He crawls up from the floor, grunting at the way his knees remind him of his age, and moves up on the bed. He slots between your legs again like he was made to fit there, kneeling between your thighs. You look soft and dazed, chest still heaving from your high.

“I love you. Every damn inch of you,” he murmurs softly. He looks at your face, how you smile with your eyes closed and your nose is slightly scrunched up as the sun dances over your features through the window. You’re glowing. Simple as that, no other word for it, like you will when carrying his kid, and he should tell you that you’re the only peace he has ever found. He should say it to you but he cowers each time. It feels more weighted than telling you that he loves you.

“I know,” you whisper back eventually, eyes blinking open and your hands reaching for his belt. The metal clinks as you undo the buckle, a smug little grin on your face.

“Alright, Han Solo,” he rolls his eyes for show and then moves over you, the devil in his eyes. He wipes his slick chin and lips on your face, making you laugh in the way that is enhanced by dopamine. He bumps his nose into yours, “Think you’re funny, huh?”

“Little bit,” you smile and get the fly open. You reach inside and wrap your fist around him, the playful air in the room settling immediately when you stroke him lazily, “But I’m just trying to get you to take your clothes off.”

“Fuck, baby,” he groans while you run your thumb over the slit of his dick, “You’re killing me. Gimme a sec of this.”

You give in and let him have this for a moment, stroking him with practiced flicks of your wrist until his hips start to rut so he can fuck your hand. He moans as he stares down between you, the muscles of his neck and shoulders wound so tight from trying not to come that it is a miracle his old bones haven’t snapped in half.

When you feel him near the edge, you squeeze around the base to halt his orgasm. You’ve started to breathe hard alongside him, clearly worked up by the sounds he is making for you.

“Fuck me,” you beg him, your voice stutters as you frantically try using your free hand to yank his jeans down over his hips, “Please, Joel, I need you inside me.”

He thinks about how worked up you must be between your legs after holding out for so long. Knowing how wet you get from touching him like this, you must be soaked for him and ready to be taken care of like you deserve. It means that Joel doesn’t need to be told twice, already tugging his jeans and underwear just far down enough for what matters.

However, despite the rush of getting undressed, he still takes the time to reach for one of the newly-fluffed pillows resting against the bed’s headboard.

“Up,” he says without further explanation but you know what he wants to do, would probably trust him with your life even if he just gave you a look. When you lift your pelvis in the air without question, he slides the pillow underneath you so your hips are tilted just right for him to reach deep.

Your legs are spread, your cunt practically served on a platter for him with how it is raised slightly in the air, squeezing around nothing as if begging for him. He looks down at your face as he runs the head of his cock through your folds, coating the very tip in a mix of precome and your shiny slick.

You aren’t watching him though, too busy chewing on your bottom lip with your eyes glued to how the head of his cock sinks into your wet heat. When he starts stretching you with his thick girth, your mouth falls open in a soft moan.

He places a hand just above your mound, holds you there while he bottoms out with a growl. Then he rocks his hips once then twice, setting up a pace that gives the both of you time to indulge in each other. You are snug around his dick as he fucks you, slick heat that makes his skin tingle and his breath stutter. The remnants of a southern gentleman in him know that he shouldn’t compare, but no other woman has ever made him unravel so much during sex, has ever made him feel so powerful and powerless in bed.

“Tell me who this pussy belongs to,” he demands to regain some form of control, staring down at your face contorted with pleasure.

“You,” you gasp feebly, “It’s yours.”

When he fucks you like this, you are his. He doesn’t need to second guess this fact, knows it just from the way your bodies are connected like they know it too.

He reaches for your thighs, his knuckles going white as he lifts them onto his hips. You lock around him by instinct and force him forward, so he has to brace himself with a hand beside your head. The angle makes him go deeper, the thick head of his cock kissing at your cervix and your greedy cunt flutters like it wants to do the impossible and pull him further in.

“Look at me,” he says in a voice that reveals just how good you feel to him, watches the way your tits bounce with each thrust, “Say it like you mean it.”

You stare up into his eyes, your brows furrowed as the tip of his cock drags along the front of your walls. He is in there deep, focused on coming just where it matters. Meanwhile, you have to concentrate on forming words, needing to start over several times with how close you are to babbling.

“It’s– ah, fuck. It’s your pussy, Joel. I’m yours,” you cry for him, your pitch close to, but not quite, the one of a wounded animal. The difference is the lack of hesitation; you are both so sure of each other that it makes him ache all over and ignore the sweaty strain on his old back.

Your hands scramble to touch him but you make a noise of complaint when his chest is covered by his shirt, the barrier a nuisance when you want all of him. He shed the flannel earlier along with his jacket, but right now, it is the soft fabric of his t-shirt that you’re pulling at to get to his skin.

He dips down to let you pull it over his head, it slipping down his arm unceremoniously until he can grab it with his fist and toss it over his back. Your trembling hands find his skin immediately and it makes you sigh with relief. Your nails drag through the hairs on his chest, leaving red streaks in their wake until you grab the flesh of his sides.

He sees how your eyes roam over his torso, where scars tell stories of a life much more complicated than this. You have loved each one of them so many times that he doesn’t feel insecure about them anymore, have traced them with your fingers and kissed them enough to get him to believe that he is more than the events that brought them.

“You’re so beautiful,” you say softly and settle a hand at the back of his neck, drawing him into your arms. He braces himself on his forearms, kisses you like he isn’t inside of you, and has missed you for a weeklong patrol, still taken aback when you say things like that.

“Sweet girl,” he whispers against your lips and you whimper as his cock pulses inside of your body. You look at him with fiery love and lust, the stare so intense he knows that this will be over soon because he can’t hold back anymore.

His next thrusts are slower but rougher, harder and insistent in touching the parts inside you that make you barrel towards the edge. He can feel the difference between all the other times he’s been buried in your cunt to the hilt and this time. While the air is still thick with labored breaths and whispered cries for a higher power he doesn’t know if he believes, this is not just sex; this is about taking the very best parts of you and mixing them with the leftover parts of him that he has found aren’t fatally broken because of you.

The sound of his name pulls him back to you. His pelvis has aligned with yours with each rock of his hips, the spot just above the base of his cock grinding into your twitching clit.

“I’m gonna— fuck, I’m gonna come,“ you choke on air, “Please, Joel. Don’t stop, baby.”

“I know, honey,” he moans at the way you flutter around his length, voice cracking at how you feel better than a Texan summer. You’re so wet it sounds filthy when he fucks you, barely pulling out anymore and letting you soak his dick while he switches to simply grinding. For a moment, he is even scared that it’ll set him off before you’ve had your second fill, “Jesus, yeah, I can feel it.”

Your orgasm hits like a runaway train. The hand resting on the back of his neck slides down to squeeze his shoulder, fingers denting his skin as you seek something to cling onto in your state of ecstasy. You come so hard that air is knocked out of him from how tightly your cunt grips him, his whole body shuddering like he’s the one losing it.

He presses a lingering kiss to your gorgeous neck while your head is thrown back, feeling the rapid beats of your heart under his lips. Your free hand cradles him like you’re meant to be a mother already, making it irresistible for him not to inhale your scent of lavender from the spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

“You feel too good, baby, ’m not gonna last,” he grits out against your sweat-slicked skin, his cock throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

“Don’t want you to last, want you to put a baby in me. Gimme a baby, Joel,” you beg him and bury your nose in his temple. You squeeze him tighter in your arms, whining from oversensitivity as his thrusts start to intensify toward the end, “Wanna make you a daddy, baby, please, I’m ready.”

Daddy. The word coming from your mouth makes Joel snap. He pushes his hips against yours and comes with a groan, the head of his cock flush against the very back of your cunt. In his life, he has witnessed wildfires and his climax spreads through his lower belly just as fast. His breath is stuck in his lungs as he fills you to the brim, his tongue wanting to say filth but only your name comes out. It’s good enough to make a grown man tremble without remorse in the embrace of his woman.

After a beat, his body sags from exhaustion. When you let go of his shoulder to run your hand over your hair, your nails have created little crescent marks on his body. He grunts as he rolls off of you in fear of crushing you underneath his weight. You whimper at the loss, a few heavy drops of his seed landing on the pillow still beneath your hips.

“C’mere,” he murmurs as a haze settles over the both of you, the sweat on his skin turning slightly chilly. He holds his arm out to invite you into the space that always holds you perfectly and you oblige without a word. He’d lay here forever with you if he had to, would embrace being trapped here with you until they had to send out a search party.

He is still breathing hard when you lay your head on his chest, draping your arm across his body whose stamina isn’t what it used to be. You don’t comment on it though, simply hold him while the sheets get dirty again from the mess between your thighs. While the world fades away around you, Joel decides that he’ll help you do the extra load of laundry.

Without thinking, his fingers absentmindedly start tracing up and down your forearm in a soothing motion. You swing a tired leg over his body in response, attempting to get impossibly closer despite already practically melting together with him in the post-orgasmic heat you share.

Outside, a young child shrieks with excited laughter and Joel nearly tears up from how new the sound seems even though it is a daily occurrence in the little town. He must know if you feel the same.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks and breaks the quiet, still caressing your arm gently.

“Just thinking,” you reply and splay your hand on his chest, brushing your thumb over his nipple without thinking. You kiss him where you can reach.

“About?” He pushes, looking down at the top of your head as if he can read your emotions like that. You probably could with him.

You crane your neck to stare at him with a little tired smile, “Babies. You. How much I love you. I love you.”

“I know,” he answers smugly, arching an eyebrow with a smile. He thinks another confession of his devotion might set his chest alight and right now, you don’t deserve to have his guilt winning.

“You asshole,” you dissolve into a burst of laughter while his smile turns wolfish, your body curling in on itself on top of his chest. He loves your laugh, the way you nearly snort and feel embarrassed by it. It makes him settle a hand on the base of your skull and drag you into the sort of kiss from a person who’s learning to trust joy again.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

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inseobts · 18 days ago

Text

Sunshine Lost

strawhat crew x fem ! strawhat ! reader (platonic)

you're the sunshine of the strawhats, until doubt shattered everything—and years later, when you return on the enemy’s side, your final act of love is a sacrifice they’ll never forget

words count: 2.4k

tags: platonic, d3ath/sacrifice, angst, hurt/comfort, accusation, misunderstanding, found family, marine involvement

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The sun shines high over the Thousand Sunny, and you’re dancing on the deck again.

"Yoo-hoo~! Sanji! Is lunch ready yet?" you sing, spinning in place as you wave your arms like a windmill "I’m starving!"

"Almost done, my sunshine angel!" Sanji calls from the kitchen window. He’s got that goofy heart-face again "Just a few more minutes, mon amour!"

You giggle "Okay! I’ll wait with my stomach screaming!"

"Don’t scream too loud," Zoro mutters from where he naps on the deck "Some of us are trying to sleep."

"Grumpy swordsman alert!" you tease, poking his leg as you skip past him.

He grunts. Doesn’t move. Classic Zoro.

Nami looks up from her map "You’ve got too much energy. You sure you didn’t sneak any cola from Franky’s stash?"

You gasp, hand to your chest "I would never! I’m innocent!"

Luffy laughs as he climbs up the mast "She just runs on sunshine!"

You beam at that. It’s true. You love them all so much. Being part of the Straw Hat crew is like a dream come true. You’re always ready to help, to smile, to cheer someone up, even when the seas are rough.

But today… today feels just a little strange.

At night, after dinner, Robin finds you sitting by yourself near the rail.

"You’re writing again?" she asks, soft voice blending with the wind.

You nod, hiding the paper quickly "Just a letter."

"To your cousin in the Marines?"

"Yeah," you say "But it’s not like I tell them anything important. I just wanna know if they’re okay."

Robin nods slowly "Be careful. Not everyone sees things like you do."

You blink "What do you mean?"

She just smiles, sad and mysterious "That sunshine of yours… don’t let anyone steal it."

You laugh "No one can steal the sun, Robin."

But you keep your letter hidden that night, folded under your pillow.

A week later, everything falls apart.

"How did they know?!" Nami slams her hands on the table "The Marines were waiting for us at the next island—again! That’s three times now!"

"We even changed our plans" Zoro growls "There’s no way they should’ve known."

Luffy’s quiet. Too quiet.

Franky crosses his arms "Somebody’s talking."

"What are you saying?" You ask, blinking “No one here would do that!”

Brook looks at you gently "Miss Y/N… it’s true someone might be giving them hints, even if they don’t mean to."

You feel the room tilt.

"I talk to someone in the Marines… but I never tell them anything important! I swear!"

Sanji’s smoking. He doesn’t look at you.

"You write letters, don’t you?" Nami’s voice is sharp now "Maybe they read them. Maybe you say more than you think."

"No!" You stand up. Your hands shake "I would never hurt you guys. I love you!"

Robin’s voice is cool "We know how much you care. But the pattern is real. We can’t ignore it."

"You think it’s me." You look around the table "You all think it’s me."

No one answers.

Luffy’s still quiet.

That hurts the most.

You whisper, "Captain?"

He looks up "Just… give us some time, Y/N."

And with that, you’re dismissed.

Your chest feels like it’s caving in. Like someone reached in and squeezed the sun right out of you.

Later that night, you sit alone again. No dancing. No singing. Just silence.

You don’t write a letter. You don’t smile.

Just sit.

Because when your family doubts you… what’s left to shine for?

The ship is quiet tonight. Too quiet. Like it knows you’re leaving.

No stars in the sky, just heavy clouds. Wind brushing your skin like cold fingers. You shiver, but not from the breeze.

You stand in the dark hallway, holding a small bag. Just the basics. You don’t need much. You never did.

Inside the boys' room, you hear snoring. Zoro. Maybe Usopp too. Or even Luffy. In the kitchen, nothing but silence. Sanji must have gone to bed early. Robin’s reading in the library. She won’t hear you pass.

You pause for one second. Just one.

No. You can’t stop. If you say goodbye, you’ll cry. If you cry, you’ll stay. And you can’t stay.

They didn’t believe you.

They looked at you with those eyes. Like you were a traitor. A liar. A risk.

You thought this crew was your family. Your safe place. Your light. But now all you feel is cold.

And you’ve been through this before.

Back then, when people you loved turned their backs on you. Back then, when “trust” was just a word, not a promise.

You swore if it happened again, you wouldn’t wait around to feel it twice.

So you don’t.

You lower a small boat into the sea. No sound, just soft ripples. Your heart is beating loud though. It almost drowns everything else.

You don’t look back.

Not once.

When the sun rises, Luffy yawns and stretches.

“Morning!” he calls, walking toward the kitchen “Hey, Y/N! You awake?”

No answer.

“Probably sleeping in,” Usopp mumbles as he walks by “She always does after a storm.”

Robin glances around “She’s not in the girls’ room.”

Sanji checks the kitchen “She’s not here either…”

Jinbe frowns “Where’s her bag?”

Chopper runs around, checking corners “She’s not anywhere! She’s gone! She’s really gone!”

Nami’s eyes go wide “No note? No nothing?”

Silence.

And then Luffy steps outside. Looks out at the open sea.

He whispers, voice hoarse, “She left.”

No one knows what to say.

Because they all felt it.

They all doubted. And now… the sunshine is gone.

Three Years Later

Location: Pyros Island – North District, in flames

“Move in! We don’t let them escape again!”

The shout cuts through fire and gunpowder smoke.

The Strawhats are in the middle of chaos, racing down broken stone streets, dodging cannon fire, punching through enemy ranks. This was supposed to be a stealth job. Take down a weapons lab. Get out.

It isn’t... because you’re here.

You step out from the shadows, cloak whipping behind you, no longer in bright colors or sunny dresses. You're in black and crimson now... worn gear, face half-covered by a mask. Your eyes sharp.

Not the sunshine girl they remember.

"Stop!" Sanji shouts, eyes wide “That’s—!”

"Y/N...?” Nami says your name like it’s a memory slipping out by accident.

Zoro freezes “No way...”

Luffy stares at you from across the smoke-filled plaza, fists trembling at his sides.

But you don’t say a word.

Instead, you pull your blade.

Your team moves with you, mercenaries, ex-revolutionaries, no flag but fire. You're not with the Marines, never were. But you’re on the other side now. That much is clear.

Brook deflects a strike from one of your allies “Miss Y/N?! Is it truly you?”

You don’t answer.

Too fast. Too close. Luffy launches forward.

“Y/N, stop! Why are you—”

You clash.

Your blade hits his fist, sparks flying.

“Don’t talk to me like we’re friends” you snap. Your voice is colder. Steady. But underneath, your hands are shaking.

“You left us,” he says “Without a word!”

"You doubted me first, how could I stay?" you spit back, eyes flashing.

Robin tries to reach you “You were hurting. We didn’t see it then. But we do now. We—”

“Don’t.” you hiss, swinging at her, forcing her back “You don’t get to say that now.”

Everything’s burning. Everything’s loud. You see fire in every direction. Screams. Crashes.

You hear the crew shouting your name, over and over.

"Y/N!"

"Sunshine, please!"

"Don’t do this!"

You clutch your head suddenly.

They’re louder. But they’re not saying the right things.

Why now? Why not then?

You blink and the battlefield shifts.

Suddenly, they’re laughing. Mocking.

You see their faces, twisted... Zoro glaring, Nami whispering, Luffy turning away.

“You talk to Marines?”

“She’s a spy.”

“We can’t trust her.”

You hear your own voice screaming. No, no, no, that’s not what happened!

You stumble back, vision swimming.

Your chest aches. You can’t breathe.

“Shut up!” you scream, though no one is talking now “Get out of my head!”

Luffy runs toward you again “We didn’t mean it! We were wrong! I was wrong!”

You see the real Luffy this time, his eyes wide, real, full of pain.

But you still can't move.

Too many voices.

Too many memories.

Too many lies you told yourself just to survive.

You drop a smoke bomb and vanish in the clouds.

You hide deep in the ruins. Knees pulled to your chest, eyes wide, breathing heavy.

“…I thought I forgot” you whisper to no one.

But you didn’t.

You remember every laugh. Every dinner. Every hand on your shoulder.

And the way they looked at you that day.

Back on the battlefield, the Strawhats stand in silence, the fire dying down.

“She’s not our sunshine anymore...” Sanji mutters.

“No,” Luffy says, fists clenched “She is. We just broke her light.”

Luffy crashes into the ground, breath knocked out of him. His hat flies off.

“Damn it!” he groans, pushing himself up.

Zoro stands bloodied, blade shaking in his grip “There’s too many.”

Sanji is on one knee, coughing hard “They’re surrounding us.”

“They’re fighting harder because of her,” Nami says between clenched teeth, weather staff crackling with weak sparks “They think we broke her. Maybe we did.”

Brook’s coat is torn. Franky’s chest plate is dented. Chopper’s trying to hold everyone together, but his hands won’t stop shaking.

Robin is quiet. Her arms bloom around them like shields, trembling and breaking just as fast.

They’re losing.

They’ve never lost like this.

Not like this, where it feels like they deserve it.

You’re still in the ruins, clutching your head, listening to ghosts.

"She’s not one of us anymore." "She left." "You were the traitor." "We were wrong." "We were wrong."

"We were wrong."

You blink hard.

They're still fighting.

They're losing.

Because of you.

You rise.

You shouldn’t. You don’t owe them anything. You told yourself that over and over. Built a whole new life around it.

But seeing them bleed, fall, break apart, something inside you won’t let you stay still.

Even after everything.

Even after they didn’t.

You run through the burning alleys, pushing past fallen stone and crying civilians. Your blade is heavy in your hand, your body is slower than it used to be, but your heart is beating with something again.

You see Luffy hit the ground a second time.

You see a blade fly for Nami’s back while she tries to shield Chopper.

You don’t think.

You move.

Your sword blocks it. Sparks fly.

“Get away from her” you growl.

Everyone freezes.

"Y/N...?" Nami whispers, eyes wide.

You stand between them and the enemy, panting, blade up “I’m not here to fight you anymore.”

The enemy soldiers pause, confused.

You glance back at the crew “You guys still suck at watching each other’s backs.”

“…Sunshine?” Sanji breathes, like he’s scared the name will make you vanish again.

You smirk weakly, turning back toward the enemy “Don’t get used to it.”

Then you charge.

Luffy is the first to move after you “HEY! THAT’S OUR IDIOT!”

Zoro grins through blood “Still crazy, huh?”

Nami laughs, even as tears fill her eyes “She came back…”

“Let’s go get her back for real” Robin says, voice like steel.

"Now we’re talkin’, super-style!” Franky shouts, getting to his feet.

Chopper wipes his tears “You’re still our sunshine!”

They all surge forward again, stronger, together, because you’re there.

Because you're home.

After the last of the enemy falls, you collapse on your knees, breathing hard. Ash clings to your skin, and your arms are shaking.

Luffy walks up slowly, holding out a hand.

You look up at him.

"Still want me?" you ask quietly, voice breaking.

Luffy nods, smiling just a little, just enough.

“Always.”

You take his hand.

And this time, you stay. Or at least that's your plan.

The flames have died down. The enemy is running. The people are cheering.

But the war isn’t over.

Because the commander hasn’t fallen yet.

And he’s aiming right for Sanji.

He’s too slow this time. Too injured. Too distracted by you, by the way you laughed earlier, helped Nami, the way your eyes softened when you called him to help you when you got surrounded “Curlybrow!”

He looked at you like he wanted to say something.

He never got the chance.

“SANJI, LOOK OUT!”

You see the blade flash. You see him twist too late.

You move.

Faster than you thought possible. Faster than fear, faster than pain.

You throw yourself in front of him.

You feel the cold stab of steel through your side.

Then through your chest.

Everything stops.

"Y/N—!!!"

Your knees hit the ground. You smile, eyes wide with shock and tears “I'm still fast… huh?”

You fall.

Sanji catches you.

“No, no, no—” His voice breaks instantly, arms shaking as he lowers you down “No! What the hell did you do?!”

“…Guess I owed you guys something big.”

Zoro takes the enemy out for good.

“You idiot!” Sanji shouts at you “You absolute...! Why?!”

You laugh, a cough mixed in “You were the only one who didn’t look at me like a traitor after it happened… You never doubted me, did you? That helped me... So I figured, this time, I’d be the one to help you.”

Sanji’s breath hitches “Don’t say stuff like that. You don’t—you don’t get to do this! Not after you just came back!”

You look past him. Luffy is yelling your name. Nami is sobbing, gripping her staff like it’s all she has left.

Zoro clenches his jaw, his sword sheathed. He already knows.

Robin’s hand covers her mouth.

Even the others can’t move.

You smile at all of them.

You shine, even as your blood soaks the stone.

“I missed you guys… so much.”

Sanji holds you close, forehead against yours.

“We never stopped looking for you” he whispers, tears streaming down his face.

You smile faintly.

“I know. I was the one too scared to face you again.”

The sky is clear now.

No smoke.

No fire.

Just the warmth of the sun rising on the horizon.

Your fingers twitch toward it.

“I'm happy now…”

And then, you go still.

No one says a word.

The Strawhats stand together, for once not in victory, but in grief.

The battlefield is silent.

Because their sunshine is gone for real now.

But the light you left behind burns in all of them now.

426 notes · View notes

nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 16 days ago

Text

ROUTE 666

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x Black!OC

Summary: it’s the year 1984 and Star goes to a roadside bar off of Devil’s Highway that a friend of hers invited her to. What Star doesn’t know is that someone is waiting for her beyond the velvet drapes.

Warnings: SMUT. Lots of pussy licking. 18+ CONTENT. Mentions of blood, Violence.

Part Three

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore entered Vaisseau just before the sun could peek over the horizon. The windows were already covered with thick, blacked–out curtains. At the bar stood a woman named Ivory. She’s a human, Onyx’s personal blood bank and pussy. Once a small town girl living in a lonely world, she was taken in by a vampire biker gang and passed around for feast and sex.

Ivory was busy shining glasses with a cloth. Her chocolate–brown eyes fell upon Elias as he made his was towards the bar. Ivory placed the glass amongst a row of others she dried off. The faint sound of ‘I Love Rock N Roll’ could be heard from a jukebox. Stack took a seat and tapped the bar for Ivory to attend to him.

“Grab me some O negative out of the fridge, baby.”

“No problem.”

Ivory swept her eyes over Stack before walking away to retrieve a blood bag for him. Stack followed the purposeful sway of her ass in a pair of daisy dukes. She styled the denim cut–offs with sheer black stockings that shimmered and a very cropped T-shirt.

Ivory opened a fridge, chilling smoke wafting her face. She thumbed through the many blood bags and came across what Stack needed. Grabbing it, she went to pour it into a glass tumbler. Ivory made her way back over to Stack, sitting the cup on a folded, black napkin in front of him.

“Drink straw?” Ivory offered with a hospitable smile.

“Nah, no need, darling. Onyx sleeping?”

“Not yet. He’s in the back,” Ivory motioned with her finger painted a vibrant red, “You can go on back there.”

Stack gulped down the O negative blood. He licked the rim and glided his blood–covered tongue over his teeth. It tasted decent, Stack preferring bag blood chilled. He stood up, sucking on his lips to clear the rest of the crimson delight away before disappearing behind a black drapery.

Stack made a left, then a right, until he was standing within the doorway of Onyx’s office. It wasn’t the most decorative, but it was useful to handle the business side of things at the bar. Onyx glanced up at Stack and nodded his head in greeting.

“Alright there, brother?”

“Pretty damn good.”

Stack propped his shoulder against the doorway and lit a blunt with a match.

“How was your porn star pussy?”

“Delicious…and no I don’t plan to share.”

Onyx released a deep laugh.

“You’ve had Ivory.” Onyx countered.

“Did. And that still won’t change my mind.” Stack quipped.

“The way she was eyeing me like she wanted this fat cock…I know a hopper when I see one. And she is a hopper…”

Stack pushed himself up and approached Onyx’s desk. He leaned forward against it, propping himself up on his knuckles. Stack’s eyes glowed menacingly. Onyx simply smirked.

“Don’t. Talk. About her. Like that. Onyx. Or I’ll kill ya’.”

“I’m only fuckin’ with you, Stack. What you want anyway?” Onyx brushed off Stack’s threat, continuing with counting his cash.

“Came to sleep. Can’t afford to burn in a bed when that sun come up. Better safe than sorry.”

“Since when do you sleep in a casket?” Onyx joked.

“Since now, nigga. Star still at the motel.”

A sinister smile crept over Onyx’s lips.

“You ain’t turn her like you said you would?”

Stack flicked his gaze away, taking a hit of his blunt.

“Not yet. Soon.”

“You could just keep her around like I do Ivory.” Onyx suggested, placing a stack of Benjamin’s away in a safe deposit box.

“And watch her age? I want another eternal partner, Onyx. You know how long I’ve been searching since me and Mary split?”

“I know, Stack. Just…tread lightly with it, aight? I got lucky with Ivory. From what Cora says, she’s perfect.”

“Ivory ain’t got shit to lose. Star different.”

Onyx dropped his head with frustration, “Which is why I said be careful. Remember…we didn’t have a choice.”

The glow from Stack’s eyes dimmed to brown. Onyx was right. Once again, he was given that painful reminder. Despite being surrounded by so many others like him, lurking in the shadows, there was still loneliness. Stack walked this immortal life with Mary in the midst because she was the last connection he could hold onto that understood.

His cousin, Sammie Moore, went on to have a successful career as a big, bad, Blues man. Stack was proud of him. Mary fought fang and coffin nail to keep Stack for herself, but he’d had enough. Enough of her possessiveness. Enough of her jealousy. Enough of her lack of remorse whenever Stack would reflect on his twin, Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore.

They got us in museums, Smoke. Mobster Museum…Black History Museum…we icons. Just like I knew we’d be…wish ya’ was here to see it all…

But his mortal life was snatched from beneath his feet.

So to snatch Star’s would be just as wrong.

He would need her consent.

“I’m a head down to the basement…”

Stack left and slow strolled down the hall until he found his way at the top of stairs. He was about to descend into a sleeping quarter with coffins until a familiar, condescending, backwoods country accent caught his ears.

“The fuck you doin’ here?!”

Stack’s fangs popped out violently and he turned carefully with a steady gaze on a woman he hoped he didn’t have to run into.

“Raven.”

“Surprised to see you walking around here freely after the shit you pulled last time.”

Stack released a frustrated sigh, “What? Because I killed a Choctaw?”

“You spilled blood on this end of Route 666 and with that comes trouble. Trouble we ain’t had in a long time until you showed up, nigga.”

Raven’s cynical nature irritated Stack to no end. Always confrontational whenever he touched down in Arizona. Things weren’t always bad between them, hell, things were good as far as he knew. As long as his dick was in her wet pussy she didn’t care. But because he forced his fist through the chest cavity of a Choctaw he’s the bad guy?

“Why you really mad, Raven? Tell me that.” Stack argued.

Raven’s left eye flinched with rage.

“You ain’t shit, Elias. First you let Mary come between us. Then you jeopardize everything because you can’t just swallow your pride. They’ve been watching us because of you, nigga!”

“They been watching us since I turned vampire back in 1932, Raven! Don’t make no difference!” Stack shouted.

Onyx appeared from his office. His eyes fell on Raven and his shoulders slouched.

“Raven, I told you Stack was coming here. He’s one of ours. Been one of ours. Blood Riders united,” Onyx folded his arms across his sculpted chest.

“I’m going to sleep,” Stack adjusted his leather moto vest, “Ain’t got time for this shit, Raven. It’s either you miss me or you don’t. Point FUCKING blank.”

“I got somebody! I’m over you!”

“Don’t look like it,” Onyx chimed in.

Raven’s hissed with her fangs poking out to threaten.

“Fuck you, Onyx! Who side you on anyway?!”

“The side where I can have some peace counting this money.”

Raven sneered before storming off. As she breezed past the black drapes, she caught Ivory looking at her and that’s when her icy core melted to that of flirtatious heat. She winked at Ivory and blew her a kiss.

Stack descended the stairs with inhuman speed.

Clearly, she wasn’t over him. And clearly being with someone else didn’t stop her from flirting with Ivory.

He found a spare coffin open and took off his vest, placing it on a hook. A coffin across from him, a brown one with a carved, ornate style popped opened, revealing golden silk. Inside, tangled within each other’s embrace, fully naked, was Legend and Cora.

Cora sat up first, stretching her arms. She locked eyes with Stack before he settled into his coffin.

“Enjoy my friend, Stack?” Cora questioned with a sultry voice.

“I have you to thank for that. Just like a Collector should. ‘Ppreciate ya’, baby.” Stack winked at Cora.

“Anytime,” Cora exhaled, “I’m hungry. Can’t sleep.”

“Got enough blood left upstairs. Better get it before it ain’t no more good.” Stack revealed.

Cora stepped out of the coffin gracefully. She sauntered over to a chair and grabbed a long, billowing, ivory robe with feathered details.

“You get a chance to fuck her? Or did you put her in a coma with your tongue?”

Stack relaxed back against the inside of the coffin, his head cushioned by the pillow. He stared up at the ceiling of the unfinished basement, spiderwebs and other creepy crawlers showing themselves. A faint smile tickled his full lips.

“Number two.” Stack replied smugly.

“Told ya’ she tastes like heaven on earth.”

“Don’t go makin’ me jealous now, Cora.” Stack replied playfully.

Cora made her way towards the stairs. Legend stirred awake, siting up in search of Cora. His monstrous dick sat up high and imposingly girthy. Enough to split you open. But Cora was a vampire so she could handle it any way she liked.

“Cora?” Legend called out.

“I’ll be back. I’m hungry. Unless you wanna go feed elsewhere? You know the strip is still lively.”

“Nah, it’ll be daytime soon.”

“Suit yourself,” Cora climbed up until she was gone.

Stack shut his casket, happy that it was a soundproof one.

He didn’t need to hear Legend and Cora fucking from dusk till dawn.

Only thoughts of Star and her captivating brown eyes, beautiful smile, sweet moans, and how he felt lost until he met her.

Red, sheer curtains billow beyond open windows on both sides of the hall. Moonlight bathed her path as she walked slowly, wearing nothing but the scent of Hypnotic Poison.

Come to me…

Star, caught up in a dream, followed the sound of that voice until she was face to face with her lover. Naked just like her. fog helped to establish the mood and atmosphere, giving off a dark, dramatic, sensual and even slightly mysterious aura.

Stack…

He picked Star up, pulling her in for a kiss as he guided her to the bed. A bed draped in black silk with an upholstered leather headboard. Stack sat down with Star in his lap. Heads swiveling, tongues delving deep, Star moved a hand to Stack’s dick from behind, more than ready to feel him inside her. Stack licked and sucked on her nipples while she stroked him.

He moaned and groaned.

Star…

She guided him to her sweet center, and Stack inched his way inside with both hands on her ass cheeks to keep her positioned. Deep in her juicy walls he thrusted.

Star gasped.

Juices trickled between her legs. Stack kept a steady pace. He watched her. Never took his eyes off of her. Star threw her head back, moaning with his moans.

“Uhnnn…” Star moans.

“Mmmhhhhh…” Stack moans.

He picked up speed, powerful and intense with each pounding stroke, rhythm far from timid. He knew exactly how to please her, he had no problem handling Star. He lifted Star up and down on his dick.

Deeper…Deeper…

His brown eyes unexpectedly changed from that smooth cognac brown to a blazing rouge. Star locked eyes with him, mesmerized by the fire in them. Suddenly, her body stiffened completely and her arms dropped limply to her sides.

Her heart raced…she couldn’t move. She was putty in his hands as he drilled from underneath. Thick fingers reached up to caress the side of her face with his fingertips, turning her head slightly to the right and placing his lips on her neck.

The blood pumped through her veins against his full lips.

What was supposed to be a sensual nibble evolved into something else…something sinister as he pierced her skin—

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Star stirred awake in the bed Stack left her in. The thin, stark white sheets were tangled around her body as she rolled over to silence the alarm clock on an end table. She felt hot all over and her pulse quickened.

Not just the pulse against the right side of her neck, but the pulse between her legs.

She had to catch her breath. Sweaty and sore, Star couldn’t begin to understand why that dream felt so real.

Chocolate is…S.CRUNCH.OUS!

Star jumped, blinked her eyes, wiping them to focus. She squinted at the TV, a Nestle Crunch commercial on. It was so loud she had to scramble out of bed to search for the remote.

The arm chair.

Star froze.

“Stack?” She called out.

Silence echoed back at her. Star unwrapped herself, revealing curves and soft brown skin. Her hair was all over her head and the aftershock of a repeated orgasm left her muscles aching. She found the remote, snatching it before aiming it at the TV. She muted it with a hard press of a button before getting rid of the remote.

Her eyes fell upon the alarm clock.

1:32 pm

“Shit–”

Star rushed, pacing back and forth as she got dressed. She went without her stockings, ripped to shreds because of Stack.

Knock knock knock

Star froze.

“Is Star in there?”

Star tip toes to the door. She peered through the peep hole, staring at a beautiful woman that looked like she could be featured in play magazine. Petite, Jerry curl, hot shorts on.

“Who are you?” Star asked.

“I’m Ivory. I work at Vaisseau…came over to see if you were hungry. Stack’s busy handling things at the bar and he won’t be back til’ sun down.”

Cora.

“Would you happen to know where my friend, Cora is?”

Ivory went quiet for a few seconds.

“Cora is with Legend. Saw them leave last night in his truck.”

Star rolled her eyes.

“Well,” Star threw her hands up, “I guess I’ll grab a bite. Seeing as I can’t leave without my friend.”

“Of course! There’s a diner next door. Food is real tasty! Don’t worry about the bill, Stack’s got it covered.”

“I could use a change of clothes and something to freshen up with while you’re at it,” Star examined her maroon–painted nails, “Please and thank you.” She added for good measure.

“Of course! I’ll have that for you in your room. House keeping will clean up while you’re out.”

Star raised a curious brow.

So, did they also own the motel?

“Great…”

Ivory gave an awkward nod at the door before turning to leave, swaying her hips with each step, perky booty cheeks peeking out from beneath her daisy dukes.

“Fucking, Cora,” Star fussed, “Bitch didn’t even have the decency to let me know.”

Cora eyed the cord phone in the room. She walked over to it, picking it up before slipping a slender finger into the ring of the dial, spinning it to contact the front desk.

It rang three times before it picked up.

“Front desk,” A jaded male voice spoke.

“Hi…was wondering if you knew a Cora Livingston? She’s staying here. Not sure which room…”

“Hold on a sec…”

Star tapped her foot impatiently. Her stomach rumbled.

“Ah! Miss Livingston. She’s staying in 210 but—”

“Thank you!”

Star slammed the phone down on the receiver before zipping up her sexy red boots and grabbing her cheetah printed hand bag. Before she left, she spotted the keys on the table where Stack had left it. Star retrieved them and left the room.

The Arizona heat slapped her in the face the minute she stepped foot outside. Star began walking towards a flight of stairs leading up to the second level. She scanned the parking lot, not recognizing Cora’s black corvette amongst the other vehicles. The corners of her face frowned, Star opened her hand bag to grab a pair of cat eye sunglasses in all black with a rhinestone trim. Grabbing onto the iron railing, Star climbed with a click–clack of her boots.

Room 210 was right before her eyes.

Star walked with a determined strut towards the door, hips switching and ass bouncing beneath her mini, halter dress.

Star raised a fist.

Knock knock knock

No response.

Star raised two fists.

Knock knock knock

“The fuck?”

She bent over to try and peek into the room. She couldn’t see much of anything.

Groaning, Star made her way back to the stairs. As she climbed down, she began to worry about Cora. Sure, she can take care of herself, but Star knows first hand what it’s like to lose friends in a horrific way.

Kidnapping.

Murder.

One of the reasons she left Vegas is because of a serial killer preying on young women, especially street walkers, exotic dancers, and porn stars. They still hadn’t caught the guy.

Star wrung her hands, glancing left and right along Devil’s Highway.

The diner with its welcoming high rise sign and fifty’s retro design was a beacon for her. Star traveled across the parking lot and pushed her way through the revolving doors.

“Hi! Welcome to Suga’s! Just you, honey?”

A black woman a little over sixty years old with short salt and pepper hair greeted her. She held a stack of menus against her thick hip. A pastel pink work dress with buttons in the front hugged her motherly curves and a half apron stretched across her waist, stained with food and condiments.

The diner wasn’t packed, a few patrons here and there. It did smell savory from the grill and sugary from the malt shakes being blended. Star gave the woman—from what it looked like on her name badge goes by Doris—a sweet smile. She took off her sunglasses, the corners of her eyes crinkled from smiling.

“Just me. May I have a booth seat?”

“Absolutely! Follow me.”

Star walked behind Doris to a booth window seat. Star scooted in, accepting her menu with a soft ‘thank you’.

“What would you like to drink?”

“I’ll have a water with lemon…and…fuck it, a chocolate malt with whipped cream and a cherry on top.”

“I’ll put that in for you.”

Doris walked away humming Cheryl Lynn Encore.

Star tapped her almond–shaped nails against the laminated menu.

A western omelette with home fries and bacon sounded delicious.

After five minutes, Doris returned with her drinks. Star placed her order, and after Doris scribbled everything down on a notepad, Star reached out to stop her with a gentle hand.

“Um, the tab is covered, right? I was told by a woman named Ivory that I didn’t have to worry about paying? I got cash if it’s a problem.”

Doris pondered for about three seconds before recognition dawned her eyes.

“Yes! Oh, yes. Ivory mentioned something like that to the boss. No worries, honey.”

“Thank you.”

Star drank her water down quickly before sampling her shake.

It was delicious.

She twirled her straw around, wondering what type of connections a roadside bar would have with a motel and a diner?

Maybe they run an illegal drug trade?

No other explanation. Hard to believe a bunch of black folk can own anything without it being a fight. That’s when Star’s mind finally drifted to Stack.

Her one night stand.

He’s a good friend and partner. When he likes you, he tends to throw money at you. Flashy brother. Slick talk. But he mean business…

Is Stack the brains of the operation? He rides a motorcycle, and Star caught a glimpse of other motorcycles parked along the side of Vaeisseau.

Outlaw motorcycle gangs (OMGs) are considered dangerous due to their involvement in various criminal activities and violent behavior. And a lot of those gangs frequent the Arizona desert. Route 666 in general. Star didn’t want to get mixed up with a criminal. She came to Arizona to make money off of good pussy, big tits, and an ass that can swallow a g-string.

But…that long thick tongue…

The way that dick fit in her mouth…

Star squirmed in her seat at the booth, the flashbacks causing her to blush into her hand.

“Here’s your meal, honey.”

The steam of freshly cooked food warmed Star’s cheeks. Full portions and all of it looked good.

“Thank you, Miss Doris.”

Star picked up her fork to sample some home fries.

Miss Doris lingered with a hesitant gaze. Star looked up at her, both brows raised and disappearing beyond her Farrah Fawcett bangs.

“Everything okay?” Star asked.

“Just–just wanted to mention,” Miss Doris placed a gentle hand against Star’s, “Be careful around here at night, honey. Too much bad stuff goes on. That bar…ain’t no place for you to be,” Miss Doris whispered that last part.

Star’s stomach dropped.

“Thanks for the advice, Miss Doris…”

Miss Doris nodded her head with a wary expression. She finally left Star alone to her thoughts again.

Stack doesn’t owe her any explanation. She probably will never see him again. He did leave her alone in his Motel room.

But Ivory said he’d be back.

No. Cora was going to drive her back into the city when she gets back. Nice knowing you, Stack.

Cora ate her meal, cleaning her plate completely. She excused herself to the restroom before returning to the motel room. Afterwards she left a tip on the table for Miss Doris, a fifty dollar bill. Star put her sunglasses back on and walked out.

She showed up to the motel and rummaged through her hand bag for the keys. Once back inside, Star noticed straight away that the room had been tidied up and on the bed rested a sexy little number with thigh high boots to match.

And was that…

Star walked over to the left side of the bed where she was sleeping and picked up a quad of cash held together by a ruby and diamond bracelet with a tiny ‘S’. She picked it up with alarming eyes.

All one hundred dollar bills.

Star situated herself in front of the dress.

She picked it up before placing herself in front of the mirror. Star pressed the dress against her torso, spreading it out to fit her curves. It was gorgeous.

A sexy halter mini dress with ruched detailing and backless in a foil gold color. The studded thigh high boots that was paired with it was a perfect match. On a table next to the arm chair was some toiletries and stuff for her hair.

Stack hooked her up. Like Star was his woman.

She’d play along for now. Since he likes to spoil you and give you money for just having a pretty face.

The freaks come out at night

Discos don't open 'till after dark

And it ain't 'till twelve 'till the party really starts

And I always had to be home by ten

Right before the fun was about to begin

Crowds of people lined up inside and out

Just one reason, to rock the house

But in the day time the streets was clear

You couldn't find a good freak anywhere, 'cause…

Star lit a cig while sipping from a bottle of wine in her motel room. She spent the rest of the afternoon exploring where she could, she even found a nail salon to get a fresh mani and pedi. Now, she had her nails and toes painted a metallic gold.

She giggled at the aerobic exercise segment on TV. Whoever this white girl thought she was, she sure wasn’t that. Speaking of, Star had a class to attend herself in a couple of days. She was wearing the dress Stack got her and the thigh high boots with a three–inch heel.

Knock knock knock

Star ashes out her cigarette before placing the bottle of red wine on the end table next to her. She got up and rushed over to the door. Peering out, she spotted Cora with her hands on her hips and staring right at her through the peep hole like she knew she would be there.

She was wearing a skin–tight, black leather dress with a bunch of studs, knee–high, black stockings with a lace trim, and black stilettos. A cropped mink coat covered her arms but left her cleavage on display sitting high and oiled up twinkling like she’d been doused in glitter. Her hair was pinned up in a half–Mohawk style and she wore one dangling earring with the other sporting a black diamond stud.

Star’s brown eyes with lids smoky from her eyeshadow rolled heavenward.

She opened the door and jutted her hip out.

“Where the fuck you been at, Cora?”

Cora smiled wide, “Well hello to you too, Star. Missed me?”

“I outta ring your neck! Not a word from you all day! Had me worried sick!” Star argued.

“So, you did miss me? Well, let me on in girl so I can tell you how my night went with legend.”

Star didn’t make a move to let her in. Cora bat her false lashes with a pout of her bottom lip.

“Okay, I’m sorry, girl. I should’ve called you to check in. Legend had me stuck between a bed and him, you know how that is!”

“…fuck it, come in, bitch.”

Star gleamed, “Thank you, kindly, hoe.”

Star shut the door to the motel room.

“Fuck you.” Star shot a death glare at Cora.

Cora laughed, “Oh, you already did that…wine!”

Cora snatched up the bottle, helping herself to some.

“So, let me tell you about legend—”

“When we leaving, Cora?”

Cora sighed with a roll of her eyes, “Tomorrow, girl! Stack wants to see you again.”

“Stack throwing gifts and money my way but had me waiting around like I’m on his time.” Star complained.

Cora flopped down on the bed next to Star. She stroked her friend’s cheek that was covered in pink blush.

“Stack really likes you, Cora. Said he can’t wait to see you again. He real sorry for leaving the way he did. Duty calls, ya’ know?”

Star cut her eyes at Cora, “I don’t actually. What he do for work?”

“He works in entertainment. Mostly down south. A little in New York. That’s all I know.”

“He a drug dealer?” Star cut to the quick.

Cora laughed blissfully. Star shoved her friend away.

“What makes you think that? Star!”

Cora grabbed onto Star’s wrist firm. Star spun back around, poking her hip out with a fold of her arms.

“He got me feeling all giddy and I don’t get like this over a one time fling. We gotta get back in the city before I lose my fucking mind over a big dick and good head.” Star confessed.

“When was the last time you had good dick and head, Star? And porn ain’t nothing but for show! Them white men with big ol’ porn staches and baby dicks don’t do a damn thing for you! Why you think you came to Arizona for girl on girl work? Listen,” Cora stroked Star’s arms, “I know you wanna go to Malibu…but maybe you should consider Georgia…”

Star studied Cora.

“Better opportunities for black folk in the porn industry. I can hook you up!”

“…for real?”

“Yeah!” Cora exclaimed, “You know I’m gonna hook my girl up!”

Star threw a mini temper tantrum.

“I’ll consider. But I go where the money flows, Cora.”

“I hear that,” Cora tilted her head and gave Star a kiss on the cheek, “Let’s have a look around before we head over to Vaisseau!”

Star grabbed her hand bag quickly before Cora could pull her out of the room. They jogged towards her black corvette and they both hopped in.

Whodini Freaks Come Out At Night played from the radio as they made their way towards pleasure paradise. A high concentration of vices and activities that are considered sinful by some.

Star’s thighs and hips were on fire. She shifted in the passenger seat, a cramp shooting up her left leg. Cora noticed, a teasing smile on her lips. She caught the glimmer of Star’s ruby and diamond bracelet that Stack left for her.

“Your bracelet’s real pretty.” Cora says.

Star admired it.

“This probably cost more than my rent.”

“It’s beautiful, Star. Stack wants you real bad.”

Star twirled a strand of hair around her finger.

“He didn’t fuck me last night…he tucked me in…like a gentleman.”

“He wants to savor you. Clearly.” Cora responded.

“What about you and Legend?”

“We go way back,” Cora beamed, “Deep history. The only man I let touch me. Too bad we can’t be together all the time.”

Star grabbed her palm palette, opening it so she could apply some more of her brown, shimmery lipstick. She popped her lips a few times to make sure it was evenly spread before snapping the palm palette closed.

“Why not?” Star asked.

“I travel a lot. He gotta keep an eye on the bar…”

Cora rolled into a parking lot outside of a sex shop.

Let’s go have a look around. I may want to grab something as a souvenir before we leave.”

Leaving the car, they made their way towards the sex shop and Cora opened the door. Star giggled at a cardboard cut–out of herself in the display window.

The 80s became revolutionary for the history of sex toys. This era brought adult stores, where the public could easily enter in to buy whatever delight tickled their fancy. It was colorful library with aisles and shelves filled with all things sex. Videos, dirty magazines, kink, blow up dolls, sexy toys for him and her, and advertisements for new products like performance enhancers for instance.

Star felt right at home. She picked up VHS tapes featuring her, play magazines that she flipped through, posters of her naked body folded between the pages. Cora dragged Star towards the section filled with lingerie. They searched wracks filled with baby dolls, chemise’, thongs, crotchless panties, and lacy bras that made your girls sit up high.

A worker was busy stocking a shelf with Hitachi Magic Wands until he noticed Star. A tall, lanky white male with long, red hair and a freckled face. He wore a Guns and Roses T-shirt with Levi’s jeans. Star gave him a flirty wave and a wink.

He dropped a box on the ground, so infatuated by her being there.

“C–Can I please take a picture?”

“Sure,” Star replied.

He was delighted, pale cheeks rose red from blushing. He pointed towards a Photo Booth and Star followed him inside. He kept his hands planted in his lap. His eyes gawked at her cleavage oiled up like buttery, hot rolls fresh out of the oven. He started the photo booth, placing a dime in the coin slot. Star began posing, pouting her lips or parting them slightly. She gave siren energy with her sleepy eyes and beguiling energy.

The photos dispensed and Star picked them up. She was ready to get out of that booth, the man was breathing hot air towards her direction. Breath smelling like pork skins.

“Got a pen?”

He shoved his hand into his back pocket, a yo–yo, ten dollar bill, and keys resurfacing.

“Shit—sorry, I left it at the front.”

“It’s okay. At least you have proof.”

Star slid out of the Photo Booth and found Cora waiting for her. She had a few things in her hand that she was ready to purchase. Cora held up a hot pink lingerie set that she thought Cora would love.

“Too vibrant. Maybe this one?”

Cora looked it over, tapping her chin. It was the exact same one but an emerald green.

“I love it.”

They made their way towards the front and as they did, Star got the feeling someone was watching her…

And funny enough, Rockwell was playing over the speakers.

I always feel like somebody's watchin' me

And I have no privacy (Oh-oh-oh)

I always feel like somebody's watchin' me

Tell me, is it just a dream?

I always feel like somebody's watchin' me (Hee-hee-hee)

And I have no privacy (Oh-oh-oh-oh)

I always feel like somebody's watchin' me

Who's playing tricks on me? (Who's watching?)

Cora gripped Star’s hand firm. She positioned herself protectively in front of Star, staring ahead, eyes sharp.

“What is it?” Star asked with concern.

“Let’s pay for this shit and head over to Vaisseau.” Cora replied abruptly.

Star scanned the front of the store, eyes sweeping across the windows. She didn’t see anything, but she felt it. And for some reason, a voice in her head told her to be careful.

Not Miss Doris’ voice. A chilling voice of a man.

Star…be safe…watch your surroundings…stick close to Cora…

Someone or something was definitely watching her.

And they were coming to kill.

@eggnox @blackisy2k @thickeeparker @theereinawrites @angelin-dis-guise @thee-germanpeach @harleycativy @slut4smokemoore09 @readingaddict1290 @blackamericanprincessy @aristasworld @avoidthings @brownsugarcoffy @ziayamikaelson @kindofaintrovert @raysogroovy @overhere94 @joysofmyworld @an-ever-evolving-wanderer @starcrossedxwriter @marley1773 @bombshellbre95 @nybearsworld @brincessbarbie @kholdkill @honggihwa @tianna-blanche @wewantsumheaad @theethighpriestess @nearsightedbaddie @charmedthoughts @beaboutthataction @girlsneedlovingfanfics @cancerianprincess @candelalanegra22 @mrsknowitallll @dashhoney25 @pinkprincessluminary @chefjessypooh @sk1121-blog1 @contentfiend @kaystacks17 @bratzlele @kirayuki22 @bxrbie1 @blackerthings @angryflowerwitch @baddiegiii @syko-jpg @inkdrippeddreams

#nahimjustfeelingit-writes #elias stack #stack smut #elias stack moore #stack sinners #elias smokes x black!oc #stack x reader #stack #sinnersfanfiction #sinners smut #sinners 2025 #sinners

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lieslab · 1 month ago

Text

For now, I will stay alive

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Felix X gn reader

Summary: You're thinking of ending things when your boyfriend calls you while he's on tour.

Genre: Angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 2.5k

Trigger warning: Suicide, depression, anxiety, mentions of pills and death

Suicide, depression, and anxiety resources

A/N: Ugh, I love this man. Requestee, I've done it yet again. Felix makes my heart soft, so I tried to capture that feeling perfectly here. I hope you enjoy it <3

_ _ _

Everything was almost perfect in Felix’s eyes. Everything really was bigger in America. He still couldn’t get over the large size of his fountain drink. He ordered it for dinner and that was a few hours ago. The liquid inside watered down from the melted ice, but he didn’t care, he’d drink it until it was gone.

The rest of the guys scattered into their own hotel rooms. After a busy day of rehearsal and tonight’s concert, everything went to plan. The concert unraveled like usual. The jokes between songs, the dances hit every choreographed beat; he soaked up every moment like a sponge.

The fans shined like diamonds in the crowds. From the front barricade and higher in the balcony, he never forgot the moments. Even if he couldn’t see faces clearly, he could still see the colors. The splashes of pink from one body. A fox-eared headband to represent someone’s love for Jeongin.

Posters scribbled with handwritten messages of love and admiration. They still circled his head and filled his heart with affection. The love of his fans felt like sunlight on a dark day. Every time he saw reminders, every little worry washed away.

In the hotel room, the sun disappeared a few hours ago, tucked in and nested on the other side of the world. The moon perked up tonight, stretching light across multiple states. Between the open curtains, it peeked inside the opening to check upon him.

Sprawled out on the side of his bed, his skin smelled of ripe tangerine. Usually, he didn’t buy hair products in America, but ever since he stumbled across one this afternoon he couldn’t resist trying it out. He bought shampoo and conditioner without a second thought. He threw in the leave-in conditioner and body wash, just because he could.

In the rays of moonlight, dewy skin glowed. The sweat from the concert, he scrubbed it off. It disappeared and circled down the metal drain. Tomorrow, he’d repeat the process and do it all over again.

The matching bed across the way lay empty. Minho came up missing quite a while ago. He showered, slipped into pajamas, and disappeared. He said he’d be back, but never mentioned what time, or where he was going.

Felix didn’t mind. He didn’t know if he’d be up by the time he’d come back. Not that it mattered, Minho had another room key. He’d be able to get inside if he needed to.

The only thing he missed? Your touch. The way your fingers dug into his sore muscles. You practically lulled him to sleep by your touch and your touch alone. Thumbs pressed into tender muscles and you massaged them in such a way, he couldn’t get enough.

He couldn’t get enough of you at all. Leaving for tour, it had always been hard. Taking a break out of the usual routine. Saying good-bye to his permanent resident. It hurt a lot. A lot more than he’d ever admit out loud.

Ever since the two of you started to date two years ago, it hurt so much worse. He missed you. The way he woke up with your legs tangled together. Most mornings, he found your fingers tangled in his shirt. You were afraid to lose him in the night. He couldn’t get enough of you.

Every time he went somewhere for something, deep down, he felt like he betrayed you in multiple ways. You understood it, of course. His career would always be more important than dating. You wouldn’t have it any other way. Nothing brought more light into his life than being a star.

You missed him between your own usual routine. Every time he left for his schedule, it left behind a big open wound. No matter how much time passed, it wouldn’t heal until he came back. The shape of his soul connected and tangled around yours.

Thinking about the way you smiled, his heart ached. He’d never get used to being away from you. You had your own career and you couldn’t leave it there for months at a time. He wished you could be with each other all the time. When you couldn’t, he’d pick up his phone and dial your number.

Hearing your voice gave him the strength to go another day.

~ ~ ~

You decided you were different a long time ago. You didn’t know why you were born this way, you just were. Something was missing in your brain. Emptiness seeped into your heart during the lowest times of your life. Your brain ballooned with the worst thoughts.

Your brain highlighted every flaw. It sucked out your energy. Depression clung to you since you were young. It came and went in waves, but this time felt different. Every time you reentered that same mindset, it almost felt like coming home.

Things rarely changed in your brain. Maybe you weren’t meant to survive on your own. Perhaps, you just couldn’t handle living here. Living is exhausting. What’s the point?

It burns. It aches. Life rips out your heart, tears it to shreds, and shoves it back in your chest. There’s always something and why is it so hard? It’s not hard for everyone else, they do what they need to do. Life goes on. Why is it so different for you?

Every minor obstacle feels like a mountain. The more you battle and fight your way uphill, the more it feels like you will never reach the top, no matter what you do. When will it end? When does it stop?

Lately, life unraveled. Minor work related tasks, you weren’t sure if you could do it anymore. Each one vacuumed your energy into empty particles of nothingness. The past few days, you’d been nodding off at work. Miraculously, nobody caught you, but if they would have, you’d certainly be written up, or fired.

You missed Felix like crazy. Curled in your shared bed, you openly mourned him. You’d tuck his pillow to your chest and squeeze. Hoping and waiting for the day you’d see him again, you couldn’t wait, but you had days, weeks, and a couple more months.

Each day that trudged along, you weren’t sure if you could keep going. You didn’t know how you’d manage this anymore. Life became an endless cycle of defeat after defeat. Where did your upbeat glow go?

It always did this, your brain. Just when you thought you were making progress, you fell again. Free falling from a cliff, there were no footholds to grasp, no vines, no jutting out edges; just you slipping over an empty ocean. The riptide swallowed you whole.

Deep down, you knew your life would end one way, or another. You waited, hoping something would occur, so you didn’t have to do it yourself. A failing organ. A drunk driver swerving out of control. A murderer released from prison that snapped once more.

You hated yourself a little more because you weren’t strong enough. It came so naturally to everyone, why not you? What higher being created you to live like this? What kind of life comes from this; when your brain is so focused on the worst, you forget to find the good?

Days tick by and time turns to dust. The end is always there, but you try to ignore it. Death knocks. Eagerly. Constantly. Rhythmically. Knuckles rapped and you try to ignore it, but like a siren, it calls.

Some people dub it selfish, but is it really? Is it selfish to give up when your brain shrieks at you; when your brain paints your flaws on full display and crucifies yourself in front of those you love most? Hurt ripples through your soul every day.

Living with depression is a slow suffocation. You try so hard to light the fire of life, but the spark never catches. The flames forget to light. There is no steel wool. The matches are wet from tears of desperation and misery.

It takes over everything and destroys whatever is in its path. Frustration leads to screaming matches and tears. People don’t know how to befriend a boulder; a flipped turtle stuck on its back, no matter how hard you try, your stubby legs never find land.

It’s a slow spreading poison and when reasoning dissolves, what more can you do? Is it selfish to want the thoughts to stop? To want a single night’s rest without tears and worry?

When you pictured the freckled face you loved so much, you pictured something so much more; a glowing yellow ball of the brightest light. Felix is stubborn, but you didn’t doubt he’d find someone better. More caring and lovable, someone who wasn’t nearly as broken as you. You didn’t know what else to call it.

Your shell of life broke years ago. It wasn’t until this year that it finally clicked. There would be no happy ending. There would be no hope. No love. No healing. No future.

The wick in your candle burned out. Wax seeped out and destroyed your surroundings. The room filled with smoke. It suffocated everything in its reach. You destroyed everything you touched. Life was no different.

And without Felix, it all grew so much worse. You stopped reaching out to your friends a while ago. They tried to check on you, but life went on. It’s not as simple when you’re older. People get busy. Jobs can’t be put on pause. We live in a quick-fire society.

Felix called and texted. He wasn’t around as much as you wanted him to be. You couldn’t blame him. He had his life, too. It wasn’t his job to fix you, but you wanted it to be.

Maybe that’s the worst part about letting go. Who cares for those you leave behind? Who sweeps away the self-doubt and negative manifestations in your loved ones? How do you make peace with never seeing their faces again? The pet you spoiled too much, the friends you laughed with for hours, and the family members you vowed to take care of. How do you let go of this life and trust the next is better?

Doubts circled your head and funneled in your heart. You laid on the bathroom floor with tears slowly rolling down your cheeks. You shut out the light and closed the door. In the fit of darkness, you cycled through everything.

Once it’s done, it’s done.

In your grasp, a plastic bottle of pills. The lid remained sealed tight over the bottle. If Felix came home before anyone else found your body, would he forgive you? For the half-opened eyelids and fingers clenched into fists of pain? Would he pray for your weary soul, or would he scream so loud upon finding you, searing the sight of your corpse into his brain, he’d never speak again?

Suicide always feels like the right answer. You’re asking someone with no motivation to continue dragging themselves through the mud. It’s wet and cold. Your body is numb and yet, it still shivers. Warmth would be a savior, but it never feels like it’s coming.

Your eyes squeezed shut and you breathed. Inhale and exhale. In for four and out for four. Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

Your lungs expanded and your heart beat, but this didn’t feel like living. Hell, it didn’t even feel like surviving. It felt like torture more than anything; a soul trapped and bound in a cage.

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of vibrations beneath you. Pressed between the cold tiles and your back, your phone vibrated. It must have slipped from your back pocket. You sniffled, reached back, and answered it without looking. “Hello?”

“Hi, baby! I miss you!” On the opposite end of the phone, Felix grinned. “Am I bothering you? I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it. I have some free time and I’ve been missing you like crazy.”

With the phone pressed against your ear, your bottom lip quivered. Your eyes squeezed shut, trying to stop the sting of gathering tears. You could picture him so clearly in your head. The glittering eyes and excited smile. If he were here, he’d reach out and touch you, gripping you and never wanting to let go.

“Hi, Lix.”

“Are you okay, baby? Your voice sounds funny.”

“Yeah, you caught me.” A weak laugh escaped your lips. “I’m having a rough moment and really missing you.”

“Aw, I’m sorry. I miss you, too. I miss you so much, baby. You know I’d hold you if I could. I’m sending you so much love. Can you feel it? Across the states and through the countries. Is it working? Can you feel it now?”

“Yeah, I-I can feel it.” You sniffled again, clutching the phone tighter. “I really miss you,” you whispered.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you? I don’t know how I’d live without you. Baby, my heart is so entangled in you! I know touring is hard for you. I’d bring you along if I could, babe.”

“It’s not your fault, Lix. Duty calls when it calls and our lives pull us in two different directions.”

“I know, but I…” He trailed off, pushing himself upright on his bed. “I’m so grateful you’re with me. Sometimes I worry you’ll leave and find someone closer to you. I worry they’ll be yours forever and it won’t be me.”

A needle stabbed your heart. Tears silently streamed down your cheeks and soaked the bottom collar of your shirt. “I wouldn’t leave you,” you whispered again. “I can’t. My heart is stitched to yours.”

“Today, I had the best pastry ever. It was warm and gooey. Straight out of the oven and topped with powdered sugar. When I come back home, I’m going to try and make it for you. It probably won’t be perfect, but I want to try and share the sweetness of it with you.”

The more he spoke, the more tears leaked from your eyes. You were hurting so badly and Felix didn’t know just how much. Despite being on the other end of the world, he talked to you like he always did; full of so much happiness and laughter.

“Felix?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

“Ah! You can’t see me, but you’re making me blush! I love you! I love you! I love you!” A loud obnoxious kissing sound came from the speaker. “Pretend I was kissing your lips.”

“You’re such a goof.”

“Your goof and I’ll happily take that compliment. Anyway, back to my undying love for you-”

You didn’t realize it until after the phone call, but you were smiling. The pill bottle left your hand at some point. You shifted and curled away from it, clutching onto the phone as if it were a lifeline. Felix’s voice kept you company for nearly an hour. He didn’t know how close you were to ending it forever.

When you stood up, you put the pills back into the medicine cabinet. Maybe one day, you’d admit to Felix just how close you were to giving up. Maybe. For now, a flame of hope reappeared.

It might not last forever, but Felix was counting on you, just as you were counting on him.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

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theodorenmyth · 2 months ago

Note

They have to end together🥹🥺🥹 but not without Theo literally begging for Reader's forgiveness and Reader being super mean to him 🥹🥺🥹

A Sky without You

Pairings ; Theodore Nott x M!reader

Summary ; You’re no longer the sweet, shining boy everyone knew. You shut down—silent, cold, and distant. The entire Gryffindor house and even professors worry as you isolate yourself, always disappearing to the Astronomy Tower with no light left in your eyes. Meanwhile, Theodore falls apart. He can’t sleep, can’t eat, and can’t pretend anymore. After a Transfiguration exam, he snaps—confronting his so-called friends for the cruel bet and finally admitting he loved you. To his shock, they feel the guilt too. All of them apologize, deeply, knowing they’ve broken something they can never fully fix.

A/N ; this is OFFICIALLY my longest fic yet.. ENJOY THOUGH :3 (if this flops I'm going back to writing 200 word fics.) I'll upload the continuation of this fic tomorrow because I'm actually so burnt out.

Warnings ; Emotional distress, guilt, lingering heartbreak, depression, isolation, emotional breakdowns, emotional confrontation, unresolved tension, lingering trauma, grief, guilt

Word count ; 7.3k+

It’s been weeks.

And not a single day passes where your name isn’t whispered like a fading ghost through the halls of Hogwarts. Once the boy everyone turned to—bright-eyed, always smiling, the sun in a red and gold tie—you’ve become a haunting. A memory people are too afraid to speak of too loudly.

You were the kind of person who remembered birthdays, even when others forgot their own. The kind who carried extra quills because “someone might need one,” who stayed up helping classmates study, who sat with crying first-years during meals and listened to them like their little fears mattered. You offered kindness like it cost you nothing. Because to you, it didn’t.

Now you walk the same corridors, but it’s like your footsteps don’t make a sound anymore.

You show up. You sit down. You leave.

That’s it.

No greeting.

No grin.

No helping hand when someone drops a quill or trips in the hallway.

You, who once walked slower just to keep a first-year company.

You, who once stayed behind after class to help erase the board for a tired professor.

You, who once twirled around in the snow just to see how many snowflakes you could catch on your lashes.

The portraits have stopped trying to greet you. The ones that used to cheer when you passed now fall quiet as you go by, like even they feel the weight pressing against your shoulders. The ghosts don't float near you anymore—not even the friendly ones. You don’t light up when you see friends. You don’t wave from across the library. You don’t laugh at Neville’s clumsy spills or Ginny’s sarcastic jokes.

You’re a shell. A hollow echo of the boy you used to be.

The castle feels colder.

Students murmur behind their hands, not with gossip but worry. “He hasn’t eaten in days,” someone whispers. “I saw him in the common room at four in the morning—just staring at the fire.”

Your name is now spoken with a frown. With hesitation.

“He used to help me with Herbology every Tuesday...”

“He gave me chocolate frogs once because I was homesick."

“He called the stars his best friends, remember that?”

“He hasn’t even looked at the sky.”

And it’s true. You haven’t.

You don’t go to the Astronomy Tower anymore. You don’t look up when the night sky reveals itself. You draw your curtains early and press your face into the pillow until it stops hurting—until it starts again the next morning.

Every smile you wore was carefully crafted, stitched from sincerity and softness. And it shattered so completely, no one even remembers what it looked like now.

You don’t cry. That’s the part that scares them the most. You don’t scream, don’t lash out, don’t even flinch.

You just exist.

Barely.

And the whole school feels the absence of your warmth like a cold draft no one can shut out.

You showed up to class, yes. Sat in your usual seat. Gave the right answers. Nodded at professors. But there was no life behind your eyes.

No spark.

No joy.

You didn’t greet anyone in the halls.

You didn’t smile.

You didn’t wave.

You didn’t exist—not in the way you used to.

Even Peeves, who used to adore pranking you because of how dramatically you’d react, had stopped. He floated quietly past you now, expression unreadable.

Because whatever happened to you,

It silenced even him.

“Have you eaten?” Draco asked, sharp but quiet, sitting on the armrest of the common room sofa.

Theodore didn’t respond.

He sat slumped into the far end of the couch like he was trying to disappear into it. His cheek rested against the back cushion, eyes fixed on the fireplace but unfocused—glassy and hollow, as if he weren’t really there. The room flickered with golden firelight, shadows dancing across his pale face, but he didn’t even blink. His jumper was rumpled and too thin for the cold, sleeves stretched and chewed from anxious fingers. The collar sagged. His hair was a mess. He looked like a memory wearing itself thin.

Draco frowned. “Seriously, Theo, you look like hell.”

No answer.

Blaise groaned, walking behind the couch to toss a blanket over him. “You can’t mope around like this forever—”

“Yes, I can,” Theodore rasped.

That made them all stop.

Pansy looked up from her book. Astoria stilled mid-sip of her tea. Mattheo straightened where he sat by the window.

It was the first thing he’d said in days.

“You—what?” Lorenzo asked, like he hadn’t heard him right.

“Yes,” Theodore repeated, barely above a whisper, “I can.”

His voice cracked on the second word. Not with emotion, not yet—but with disuse. Like it had been tucked away somewhere dark and cold and forgotten.

“I can rot here,” he continued, sinking deeper into the couch. “And I will.”

“Theo,” Blaise said, quieter now, gentler, “this isn’t—come on, you need to eat something. Or sleep. You’re barely human right now—”

“I don’t care.”

“You’ve been missing classes.”

“I don’t care.”

“You’ve been skipping meals.”

“I don’t care, Blaise!” Theodore snapped suddenly, sitting upright.

The outburst startled them all.

Pansy jumped. Astoria’s cup clinked against its saucer. Mattheo looked alarmed.

“I don’t care if I’m failing, I don't care if I look like a goddamn zombie, I don’t care if I die in this fucking room,” Theodore snarled, breathing hard. “Because at least if I die here, it won’t be out there, where he can see me.”

His voice cracked for real this time.

The room was silent. No one moved. No one dared.

He dragged a hand down his face. “You don’t get it,” he whispered. “I can’t even walk past the Astronomy Tower anymore without wanting to scream. Every time I close my eyes, I see his face when I—when I said those words. That moment. That exact second he realized…”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t have to.

“He trusted me,” he said instead, voice shaking, “and I broke him. And for what? Six hundred fucking galleons? A laugh?”

The guilt rolled off him in waves, suffocating and bitter. He curled forward like he couldn’t hold the weight anymore.

“I haven’t seen him smile in weeks,” he croaked. “Not once. Not a flicker. I took the brightest thing in this school and I dimmed it. I killed it.”

Pansy covered her mouth. Astoria looked close to tears. Mattheo dropped his gaze.

“You should’ve seen him,” Theodore whispered. “Before me. Before the bet. He was like—like something out of a fairytale. He helped everyone. He’d stay up until four in the morning studying just so he could help a first-year through a test the next day. He knew the names of every constellation, every planet. He’d talk about the universe like it was magic. Like it was alive. And I…”

He finally broke.

The first tear slipped down his cheek silently.

“I told him I loved him under a sky full of stars and I lied.”

No one spoke.

Not even Draco.

Not even Mattheo, who was usually the first to crack a joke when things got too heavy.

“I haven’t been able to sleep since,” Theodore whispered, tears streaming down his face now. “Not when I know he probably cries alone every night and I—I did that. With my words. My mouth. My heartless—”

His voice choked off, and he slammed a fist into the arm of the sofa.

“I wish I’d never taken that fucking bet.”

Mattheo shifted uncomfortably, guilt etched into every line of his face. “We didn’t think it would… go this far. We thought you’d laugh it off. That he’d figure it out.”

“He loved me,” Theodore said, voice flat. “He loved me more than I’ve ever been loved in my life. And I crushed him. For all of you.”

None of them had anything to say to that.

Because he was right.

And they were just starting to realize how much it cost.

Across the castle, in Gryffindor Tower, things were just as broken—if not more.

The fire crackled low in the hearth, casting shadows that danced across the stone walls like memories refusing to fade. The chairs around the common room were half-occupied—students whispering quietly, watching you from the corners of their eyes but saying nothing. Not anymore.

You sat curled into your usual spot by the window, the one with the draft you used to complain about but secretly liked because it made the stars feel closer. You didn’t complain anymore. You didn’t speak. You barely moved. A blanket was draped around your shoulders, though you hadn’t pulled it there yourself. It was always there, every night—someone’s silent attempt to bring you comfort you couldn’t ask for.

“Please,” Hermione’s voice cracked. She knelt beside you, her hand hovering, not quite touching your knee. “Just one spoonful, love. Just one. You have to eat something. You haven’t even touched breakfast, and it’s nearly dinner.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t blink.

You hadn’t eaten more than a few bites of toast in days. And even those were forced down, dry and tasteless, with shaking hands and an empty stomach that didn’t growl anymore. It was as if even your body had stopped trying.

Ron sat on the floor behind Hermione, his brows drawn together, lips pressed in a tight line. “He’s not gonna answer, Hermione. He hasn’t said anything in days.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” she snapped, and then immediately softened, her gaze flickering back to you. “I just… I don’t know what to do.”

No one did.

Harry stood further back, near the stairs, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. He hadn’t said much since that day. He was angry—but not at you. Never at you. Just at the situation. At the pain carved into your face. At himself, maybe, for not stopping it. For not being able to fix it. For not noticing that you were falling in love with someone who had only ever meant to break you.

You didn’t look at them.

You couldn’t.

Because if you did, you’d see the way their eyes shimmered. You’d see the way they looked at you like you were something fragile, something precious and cracked, and it would all become too real again.

So you kept your gaze on the sky, even though you didn’t see it anymore. Not really.

The stars—once your solace, your home, your peace—now felt like strangers. Cold and distant and cruel. You used to sit here for hours, naming constellations, tracing galaxies with your fingertip on the glass, yapping on about black holes and nebulae and planetary alignments until someone dragged you away.

Now your fingers were still.

Your mouth silent.

Your soul, lost.

It wasn’t just the heartbreak. It wasn’t just the betrayal. It was the humiliation. The cruelty of it all. The laughter that had echoed through the Great Hall still haunted your ears. The way his voice, the same voice that once whispered “I love you” under starlit skies, had gone sharp, cold, hollow as he dumped you in front of everyone like you were some failed potion.

A joke.

A bet.

Just a name on a list.

And somehow, despite all of that, you still missed him.

You missed him.

Not the version that had laughed with Mattheo and Draco while you fell apart.

Not the version that walked away without even flinching.

But the version that had held you close under blankets in the Astronomy Tower. The one who whispered stories about the stars with you. The one who let you talk for hours and never told you to stop. The one who kissed you like he meant it.

You missed the Theodore who ran his fingers through your hair just to watch you fall asleep in his lap.

You missed the feeling of his arms around you, strong and warm and protective in ways you didn’t know you needed. You missed the way his thumb brushed over your knuckles when you were anxious. The way he’d press his lips to your temple like a promise, so soft and lingering it felt like he was memorizing you.

You missed his touch.

But you never said it out loud.

Not even to yourself.

You couldn’t.

Because that would mean admitting you still wanted him.

That you still loved him.

And after everything, how could you?

You hated yourself for it. For the way your skin still itched with phantom memories. For the way your body leaned just slightly to the left sometimes, as if expecting him to be there. For the way you still dreamed about him, still woke up with his name on your lips and tears on your cheeks.

And yet, every night, without fail, you curled into that windowsill. You watched the sky. You waited for something—anything—to bring you peace.

But it never came.

Your dorm mates stopped asking if you were okay. Seamus had tried to make you laugh with one of his awful impressions of Snape, but when you didn’t even blink, he sat down and said nothing else. Dean left a chocolate frog on your bed one morning. You didn’t touch it.

Neville looked like he was going to cry every time you passed him.

Even Lavender, who usually only cared about gossip, had stopped talking about boys and started leaving little notes of encouragement near your books. You read them. You appreciated them. But they didn’t help.

Nothing did.

You moved through the castle like a ghost—quiet, present, but not alive.

The professors noticed too. McGonagall, strict as she was, gave you extra time on essays. Flitwick excused you from practicals. Even Snape, of all people, narrowed his eyes when you walked into Potions late one morning and just stared at you before silently returning to the board without his usual cruel remarks.

They all knew.

Because you weren’t you anymore.

You were the boy who used to light up when someone mentioned a meteor shower. The boy who believed in soulmates and kissed like love was the only thing keeping the world spinning. The boy who gave everything—and got nothing back.

Now you were the boy who sat in silence.

The boy who flinched when someone got too close.

The boy who hadn’t smiled in twenty-nine days.

The boy who whispered names of stars under his breath at night, not because he wanted to share them, but because he was afraid he’d forget.

Because the only time you still felt anything at all,

Was when you closed your eyes and pretended his hand was still wrapped in yours.

Professor McGonagall nearly lost her composure in the middle of the staff meeting.

“He’s failing Astronomy,” she whispered to Flitwick, her voice thin and frayed at the edges. “He adored that subject. He breathed it. He stayed after every class, even when he didn’t have to, just to help clean up the telescopes or talk about star formations no one else remembered. He used to smile so brightly when he pointed at the constellations—smile, Filius.”

Flitwick’s ears drooped slightly as he folded his hands in front of him. “I know,” he murmured. “He used to come to my classroom during breaks and ask questions about star-related charms. Said he wanted to see if stardust could be replicated magically. His curiosity was… infectious.”

Professor Sinistra, normally so composed, rubbed her arms and shook her head. “He was the only student who’d ask to stay after class just to keep looking at the sky. He told me once that the stars made him feel safe. That no matter what happened, the sky stayed the same, and that gave him hope.” Her voice broke slightly. “Now he doesn’t even look up.”

“I tried to give him an extension on the recent charting project,” she added, voice quieter. “He just left the parchment blank. When I asked if he needed help, he told me, ‘It doesn’t matter anymore.’ Then he walked out.”

McGonagall’s hands trembled on the table. “That boy has never—never—spoken to a professor like that before. Not even during his worst days. He apologized once for being late when he was ill. And now he’s failing?”

There was silence for a moment—thick, heavy silence.

Then Slughorn spoke, eyes sad behind his spectacles. “I had him in third year for Potions Club,” he said quietly. “Brilliant young man. Polite, thoughtful. He used to make these beautiful little memory vials with constellations etched into them—gave one to me after a particularly long week. Said it reminded him of his mother. Always thinking of others. And now…” His voice cracked. “He didn’t even show up for the last two club meetings.”

Snape sat across the table, arms crossed, face blank. But his eyes were hard and sharp. “He’s late to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Every day. I don’t deduct points anymore,” he said coolly, but the slightest furrow in his brow betrayed more than his tone. “He doesn’t talk. Doesn’t raise his hand. He simply exists.”

“You said he gave the correct counter-curse last week,” Flitwick offered gently, as if trying to find something good.

“Yes,” Snape replied slowly, “but he didn’t look at me once. Didn’t even react when the others applauded. It was like… it meant nothing.”

McGonagall leaned forward. “He doesn’t sit with anyone anymore. Not at meals, not in the common room. I found him asleep on a bench near the astronomy tower two nights ago. It was freezing. He’d been out there for hours.”

“That poor boy,” Professor Sprout murmured, dabbing her eyes. “He always helped my Hufflepuffs with Herbology, even when they didn’t ask. Always smiling, always kind.”

“I saw him in the corridor yesterday,” Hagrid added softly, his massive hands folded tightly on the table. “He didn’t even notice me. Just walked by like a ghost. I said his name—twice. Not even a flinch.”

Dumbledore had been silent this entire time, his hands steepled beneath his chin, expression unreadable.

Finally, he spoke, voice low but heavy with weight. “I spoke with Harry last evening. He’s tried everything. So has Miss Granger. So has Mr. Weasley. They said he doesn’t respond anymore. That he simply nods and walks away.”

There was a pause.

“Do you think… we should intervene more directly?” McGonagall asked, hesitant, as though even saying it was invasive.

Dumbledore’s gaze drifted toward the high window, where stars were just beginning to appear in the dusky sky. “There is a grief that burrows itself so deep into a person that no spell, no potion, and no lecture can reach it,” he said gently. “This is not just heartbreak. This is… loss of self.”

The staff exchanged solemn glances.

“Do we know what caused it?” Slughorn asked finally.

Snape’s jaw clenched. “Yes.”

Everyone turned to him.

“Theodore Nott,” he said plainly. “It was him.”

“He broke up with Y/N in the Great Hall,” McGonagall said bitterly. “In front of everyone.”

“And it was part of a bet,” Snape added coldly. “Made by him and the other Slytherins.”

The room erupted in quiet gasps and soft curses.

Hagrid’s face turned red with anger. “A bet?! That poor lad gave that boy his heart—he was over the moon for him!”

“I believe,” Dumbledore said gently, “he still is.”

That silence came again—heavier this time. More suffocating.

“I should speak with Mr. Nott,” McGonagall said finally, standing.

Dumbledore raised a hand.

“No,” he said, voice grave. “He already knows what he’s done. He’s suffering in his own way.”

“So we just wait?” Flitwick asked softly.

“We wait,” Dumbledore said, “and hope the stars he once trusted so deeply… guide him back.”

Theodore stood outside the Astronomy Tower again that night.

Just like every night since the day he broke your heart.

Same hour. Same silence. Same ache that never dulled. He didn’t go inside—not anymore. He stood just outside the archway, where the wind howled through the corridor and the shadows swallowed him whole. The tower didn’t feel like his place anymore. It never truly had.

It was yours.

Yours, with your star charts and wide eyes. Yours, with your laughter that echoed like music between stone walls. Yours, with the way you’d twirl in the moonlight, pointing at constellations like you were introducing him to friends. The tower had felt warm once, enchanted even. Now it felt hollow. Like a tomb.

And yet, he came back.

Every. Damn. Night.

Maybe it was punishment. Maybe it was hope. Maybe he was chasing ghosts.

Maybe he just wanted to be close to you, even if only in memory.

The chill wind bit at his skin as he pulled your old star chart from his pocket. It was frayed at the edges, creased from his constant unfolding, but it still smelled faintly of you—like ink, old parchment, and peppermint. He clutched it like it was sacred.

He unfolded it slowly, fingers trembling.

The little doodles you'd drawn along the corners still made his heart twist. Tiny constellations with smiley faces, a stick figure labeled “Y/N,” one beside it labeled “Theo,” both lying under a cartoon sky filled with glittery stars. Your annotations were messy in places, but charming.

Beside the comet sketch, you had written:

“We’ll see this one together next winter. Promise me you’ll be there.”

He hadn’t even remembered the comet until now. It was due to pass overhead in December.

He wasn’t sure if he’d live to see it.

Not like this.

Every night he stayed in this spot, cold and hollow, his thoughts looping back to the same image:

Your face in the Great Hall.

When he’d said it. When he’d laughed. When he told you it was all a joke.

He saw it in every nightmare now—

Your bright smile faltering.

Your eyes going glassy.

The color draining from your face.

The way you didn’t scream. Didn’t cry. Didn’t even argue.

You just… looked at him like he’d killed something inside you.

Because he had.

And the others? His so-called friends? Mattheo, Draco, Pansy, Blaise, Astoria, Lorenzo… They’d laughed like it was nothing. Tossed their galleons on the table. Cheered like it was a victory.

But even they had stopped laughing now.

Because it was affecting him, too.

He didn’t eat. He didn’t sleep. He didn’t joke. He didn’t flirt. He didn’t feel like himself.

He wasn’t.

He was just a shell—full of regret, sick with guilt, and haunted by the sound of your voice whispering star facts to him in the dark.

And even they were starting to see it.

Even Snape had given him a strange look in class, as if recognizing something deeper—something broken.

But Theodore didn’t care what they saw anymore.

He only cared about the one person who no longer looked at him at all.

He held the chart tighter to his chest, his breath shaky as he glanced up at the stars above the tower. They sparkled like they always had—but somehow felt dimmer. Distant. Cold.

You used to make them feel close. Like they could be touched.

Now, they were just reminders.

Of what he had.

And what he lost.

His lips parted as he whispered into the night, voice raw, shaking.

“I miss you.”

It cracked through the silence like thunder.

“I miss your voice… I miss how you talked about Mars like it was your best friend. I miss how you held my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. I miss how you looked at me like I mattered. Like I was someone worth loving.”

He stared down at the parchment again, eyes burning.

“You loved me like I was the stars, Y/N. And I loved you too. I was just too much of a coward to say it.”

A beat.

The wind whistled through the corridor.

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the cold wall, letting his head fall against the stone.

“I ruined everything.”

His voice cracked.

“You gave me the universe… and I shattered it like it meant nothing.”

He paused—waiting. Hoping. Begging for a sign.

But there was nothing.

No sound.

No footsteps.

No familiar giggle from the stairway.

Just the cold, and the empty ache that he feared might never go away.

And the knowledge that he’d broken the only thing in his life that had ever truly been beautiful.

The Astronomy Tower stood the same, and that hurt more than anything.

Because everything else had changed.

You walked slowly, your hand brushing the familiar stone wall. You could feel the ghosts of what had once been—his hand clasping yours, your laughter echoing into the sky, the way the stars looked brighter just because he was beside you.

And now?

Now it felt like a tomb.

Your chest ached with every step. You hadn’t been back since that night. Since the night everything inside you died and turned to something quiet, cold, and bitter. It had taken every ounce of your remaining will to drag yourself up here again.

But something called to you.

Maybe it was foolish hope. Maybe it was grief.

Maybe it was the part of you that still whispered his name in the dark.

When you pushed open the heavy door, the wind hit you first—chilly, but familiar—and then the stars, blinking quietly, as if waiting for you to return.

You took a deep breath, stepping onto the balcony. The stone railing was cold under your fingertips, but grounding.

It was just you and the sky again.

You closed your eyes, lifting your face to the stars.

“Cassiopeia’s crooked again,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “You always hated that.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I told you the stars didn’t care about symmetry. You told me I talked too much. But you never stopped listening.”

Your voice cracked. “Why didn’t you stop listening when it mattered?”

Silence answered you.

At least for a moment.

Because then—footsteps.

Soft. Careful. Familiar.

Your heart sank, and you didn’t even need to turn to know who it was.

He always walked like that around you—like he was trying not to wake you from a dream.

You didn’t move. You barely breathed.

“…Y/N?”

His voice hadn’t changed.

But you had.

You turned, slowly.

Your eyes met his—and for a moment, the world stopped spinning.

He looked…

“God,” you whispered without meaning to, “you look…”

You couldn’t finish.

Because he looked awful.

Theodore Nott had always been pale, sharp, elegant—but now he looked fragile. Like a single gust of wind would knock him over. His cheekbones were sharper, his eyes rimmed red. There were dark circles under them, the kind that didn’t come from lack of sleep alone. His robes hung looser on him. His hands were shaking, even though he tried to hide it.

And his eyes—those haunting, sea-glass eyes you used to love so much—looked empty.

“I didn’t think you’d come back here,” he said, voice rough.

“I didn’t mean to,” you replied softly, still shocked. “But I couldn’t sleep.”

He took a step closer, cautious.

You didn’t move away—but you didn’t get closer, either.

You couldn’t.

“Why do you look like that?” you asked before you could stop yourself. “What happened to you?”

He swallowed, eyes flicking away. “You.”

You flinched.

“Don’t say that,” you said harshly.

But it was too late.

You both knew it was true.

“You haven’t been eating,” you murmured, eyeing him. “You haven’t been sleeping.”

He shook his head. “Not really.”

You stared at him for a long time. “Why?”

“Because I miss you,” he admitted, barely a whisper. “Because I hate myself. Because I keep hearing your voice in my head and it hurts more than anything else ever has.”

He took another step closer.

You let him. Barely.

The wind swirled around you both, tugging at your robes.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you whispered. “I shouldn’t be looking at you. I shouldn’t care.”

“But you do,” he said quietly.

And gods help you—you did.

“Why are you here, Theodore?” you asked, voice shaking. “Why now?”

He blinked slowly, as if every word he was about to say was a struggle.

“Because I’m sorry.”

Your hands curled into fists.

“Too late.”

“I know.”

“Then why bother?”

“Because I never got to say it before,” he whispered. “Not when it mattered. Not when you were breaking. Not when I should’ve thrown the bet away and fallen to my knees in front of you.”

You stared at him, lips trembling.

“You want to say sorry now?” you asked, voice brittle. “After you made me a joke? After you humiliated me in front of the whole school? After you laughed with them like I was a fucking—toy?”

“I didn’t laugh,” he said, voice cracking. “I never laughed.”

You scoffed. “You didn’t stop them.”

“I should have,” he admitted. “I should’ve grabbed your hand and told them all to go to hell.”

“Then why didn’t you?!”

“Because I was stupid. And scared. And weak. I cared more about what they thought of me than I did about how I was hurting you.”

You sucked in a breath, trying to steady yourself.

“I told you about my parents,” you said, voice soft. “I told you about being alone. I told you how scared I was of being someone’s pity project. And you—you used that against me.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“But you did.”

The silence between you grew sharp.

You took another step forward, now inches away.

“You killed something inside me, Theodore.”

He looked ready to break.

“And you know what’s worse?” you whispered. “I still love you. Even now. Even after everything. Even when I don’t want to.”

His lips parted, eyes wide.

You laughed bitterly. “Isn’t that pathetic?”

“No,” he said, voice urgent. “It’s not. It’s not pathetic, Y/N. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known. And I—I ruined you.”

“Yes,” you whispered. “You did.”

He reached for you—slowly.

But you stepped back.

“I can’t forgive you,” you said, choking on the words. “Not now. Maybe not ever.”

He froze.

“I need you to understand something, Theo,” you said, voice breaking. “I would have given you everything. I did. I would’ve walked through fire for you.”

You looked up, eyes glassy.

“But you set the fire yourself.”

Then, quietly, “And you watched me burn.”

His breath hitched.

You stepped past him.

He didn’t stop you.

But this time, he turned too. He watched you walk away.

And when you looked back—just once—you saw it.

Tears. Real ones.

He collapsed against the balcony the second you disappeared down the stairs, shoulders trembling.

The stars above both of you blinked down in sorrow.

And neither of you noticed that the brightest one flickered out.

Theodore Nott was a haunted boy now.

There were nights he couldn’t sleep, so he just laid on his back in the cold green haze of the Slytherin dorms, watching the shadows from the Black Lake dance along the stone ceiling. His hands trembled. His thoughts did not.

Because every single thought was you.

Your voice. Your laugh. The way your eyes shimmered when you looked up at the sky and started yapping about Sirius or Mars or that little cluster of stars that supposedly looked like a cat you always insisted that one existed.

He would’ve laughed at you once. Thought you were ridiculous. Too bright for your own good.

But then you had kissed him.

And suddenly, stars had felt real.

────────────────

You weren’t laughing anymore.

You weren’t talking about constellations.

You weren’t… you.

Everyone noticed.

Gryffindor tower had turned somber. The usual energy was gone. No more jokes. No more harmless explosions from Fred and George. No more friendly morning bickering with Ron, or walking with Hermione to breakfast, or teasing Harry for being the “chosen one” with a crooked grin that made people smile just watching it.

Now?

Now you barely left your bed.

You stopped eating unless someone forced you to.

You didn’t go to Astronomy class anymore—your favorite class. Professor Sinistra even visited McGonagall personally to let her feelings out of her chest.

And she wasn’t the only one worried.

Even Snape asked.

He called on you once during Potions, something he rarely did, and when you didn’t respond—just stared blankly at the board with bloodshot eyes—he paused for a moment.

His voice wasn’t sharp. Not like usual.

“Mr. Y/L/N,” he said, quieter. “You’re excused for today. Leave your things. Go back to your common room.”

You didn’t argue. You just left.

The whole class went silent.

Because everyone had heard the rumors by now.

The whole school knew what Theodore had done. The bet. The humiliation. The way your face had cracked in front of every house like a mirror shattering in slow motion. You hadn’t said a single word to Theodore since that day.

But he hadn’t stopped looking for you.

────────────────

“Where is he? I haven't seen him all fucking day.” Theodore snapped, slamming his hands on the table in the Slytherin common room.

The others flinched.

Blaise glanced up from his book. “Still being dramatic in Gryffindor tower, I imagine.”

“Don’t,” Theodore warned. His tone was darker than they’d heard in weeks. “Don’t you dare talk about him like that.”

Mattheo exchanged a glance with Draco. “Mate,” he said slowly, “we didn’t think—”

“Exactly,” Theodore snarled. “You didn’t think. None of us did.”

The common room went quiet again.

Theodore raked a hand through his hair, pacing.

“I—I thought he’d bounce back,” Lorenzo offered weakly. “He’s Gryffindor’s golden boy. Always so… cheerful.”

“He’s not,” Theodore said, voice hollow. “Not anymore.”

Astoria finally spoke, soft but sharp. “We did this.”

No one argued.

Because it was true.

And the worst part? It wasn’t just you that had changed.

Theodore was unraveling right alongside you.

He hadn’t slept properly in weeks. He skipped more classes than he attended. He carried your astronomy notebook around like a damn talisman, flipping through it every night like it would summon you back.

There were notes in the margins about him. Tiny doodles. Scribbled hearts. One page even had his name next to a constellation you made up—Theodon, the “prickly lion star.”

He had laughed when he saw that. Now it made his eyes burn.

He missed you so much it hurt to breathe.

────────────────

Back in Gryffindor tower, you sat curled in a blanket on the windowsill, journal unopened in your lap.

Harry watched you from across the room, arms folded.

“Talk to me,” he tried again. “Just a word. Anything.”

You blinked slowly, like you were underwater.

“Y/N,” Hermione whispered from behind you. “You’re scaring us.”

And you were.

Your hands didn’t tremble anymore.

You didn’t cry.

You didn’t scream.

You didn’t throw things.

You just… stared.

And that silence was worse.

Because you had never been silent.

You had always been the one to talk through your feelings, ramble about them. Even when things were hard, you lit up the room with useless facts about constellations or reminded people to breathe, smile, take care of themselves. You were light.

Now you were fading.

Hermione knelt beside your seat, placing a wrapped chocolate frog on your lap. “I saved this for you.”

You didn’t take it.

Ron shifted uncomfortably near the fireplace, staring at the floor. “He doesn’t deserve you, you know,” he mumbled. “Not after what he did.”

You flinched.

“He doesn’t,” Harry agreed.

“I know,” you finally whispered.

The three of them froze.

It was the first time you had spoken in two days.

You set the chocolate frog aside gently.

“Then why does it still hurt?” you asked, voice hollow. “Why does it feel like the stars stopped shining?”

Hermione’s eyes filled with tears.

Harry reached for your hand and squeezed. “Because you loved him.”

You nodded slowly, swallowing thickly. “Yeah,” you rasped. “I really did.”

────────────────

That night, you returned to the Astronomy Tower for the first time in weeks.

You didn’t tell anyone. You just climbed the steps quietly, hands shaking, heart aching. The door creaked open. The wind whispered like a ghost, cold and biting.

You stepped out into the night.

The stars greeted you like old friends.

You stood there for a long moment, just breathing, letting the wind whip through your robes. You remembered where you’d sat with him. Where he kissed you. Where he looked at you like you were the only thing he could see.

You knelt down and opened your journal.

Your quill trembled.

But you wrote.

You drew every star you could see. Every one you remembered. Every one he made you forget.

And for the first time in weeks…

You cried.

Not from heartbreak, but from relief.

You were still here.

The stars hadn’t gone anywhere.

And maybe—just maybe—you could find your way back to them.

────────────────

Far below, Theodore sat in the courtyard, your notebook pressed to his chest like a shield.

He stared up at the tower window, wondering if you were there. Wondering if the stars had taken you back.

Wondering if he’d ever be enough to stand beside you again.

And for the first time in his life, Theodore Nott felt like the loneliest boy in the universe.

The halls had grown quieter when you passed.

Not out of awkwardness. Out of worry.

Professors had stopped asking you questions directly. Neville tried to sit next to you in Herbology, but you barely acknowledged him. Even Lavender and Parvati, who once couldn’t stop teasing you about “your moody Slytherin boyfriend,” had learned to keep their distance. You were polite. Distant. Untouchable.

But slowly, you were reclaiming little pieces of yourself.

You returned to Astronomy class regularly, always sitting near the back. You still never spoke, but you were there. Present. Listening.

And you were writing again.

A few Gryffindors had noticed. Hermione peeked at your parchment once and saw it—pages and pages of stars, sky maps, invented constellations. She cried about it later in the common room, but didn’t let you see.

Even Professor Sinistra took notice.

She left you small things after class. A note. A paper star folded from map pages. A diagram of lunar phases that included your birthday marked with a tiny, golden moon. Her way of saying, I see you. You’re still here.

────────────────

Theodore had grown pale.

He still walked the halls with that same cool expression, that perfect posture, that quiet air—but he was hollow now. Glass-eyed. Slower. The shadows under his eyes had turned permanent.

He avoided his friends, the Slytherin common room, the Quidditch pitch.

He was grieving, even if he couldn’t admit it at first.

But guilt was a loud, living thing.

And it clawed at him every day.

────────────────

It all happened after a Transfiguration exam.

Theodore was the last to leave the classroom, trailing behind with his hands buried in his pockets and his head low. He hadn’t slept. Again. He was lingering behind while others rushed out into the corridor, buzzing about how hard the written section was or how McGonagall’s stern gaze could petrify you harder than any spell.

His footsteps echoed down the stone corridor, the usual hum of students long since faded. But then he heard them. Laughter. Familiar voices that made his stomach twist with guilt.

Mattheo. Draco. Blaise. Pansy. Astoria. Lorenzo.

They were leaning casually against the wall near the staircase, like nothing had changed, like they hadn’t shattered something unfixable. The laughter stopped when they noticed him. Mattheo's grin faltered and pushed off the wall.

“Theodore,” he called, catching his sleeve. “Oi—what’s got you in a mood? We haven’t seen you in weeks. Did the Gryffindor go all dramatic on you again?”

Theodore yanked his arm away, eyes flashing with something colder than anger.

And for once, he didn’t walk away.

He turned on his heel, slow and deliberate.

His voice was razor-sharp when it came. “What the fuck do you want?”

They stared at him.

Draco raised a brow, amused. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Theodore snapped. “Or has all that hair gel finally seeped into your ears?”

Mattheo laughed again, but it sounded forced this time. “Holy shit, what’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” Theodore took a step forward, his voice a bitter cocktail of fury and heartbreak. “You’re all what’s wrong with me. You, this stupid bet, and every single time I let you make fun of him.”

Pansy blinked. “It was just a joke—”

“No, it wasn’t.” His voice cracked. “It was him. It was someone who trusted me. Someone who smiled like sunlight and helped every person he met—including you. And I let you turn him into a fucking punchline.”

The silence was crushing.

He was shaking now—shoulders tense, jaw clenched, hands curled into trembling fists.

“I loved him,” Theodore whispered, barely holding himself together. “And I destroyed him because I was too much of a coward to say no. You think I’m upset because the bet ended? No. I’m upset because I wake up every night wishing I’d never taken it. Because now he won’t even look at me. And he shouldn’t.”

His voice dropped even lower. “Because I don’t deserve it.”

None of them spoke.

And for the first time since the bet started, Theodore saw it—guilt. Real guilt. The kind that sinks into bone and never lets go.

“I can’t sleep,” Theodore said hoarsely. “I can’t breathe in our dorm because I hear him laugh. I walk through this school, and I can’t go ten fucking feet without remembering him. And you think this is funny?”

Mattheo’s smirk wavered. His usual bravado slipped away, bit by bit, as Theodore’s words hung in the air like poison.

No one had ever seen him like this. Broken. Raw. Honest.

Draco shifted uncomfortably, looking down at his shoes. Blaise’s arms were crossed over his chest, but his expression had gone pale. Pansy’s lips parted, but she didn’t know what to say. Not yet.

Finally, Astoria stepped forward.

“Theodore…” Her voice was soft. Guilty. “We didn’t think it would end like this.”

He scoffed bitterly. “What? That I’d actually care? That I’d fall in love with him?”

“We thought it was a crush,” Blaise muttered. “A laugh. A way to get under the Gryffindors’ skin.”

“You used him.”

Silence again.

Pansy cleared her throat, voice shaking now. “He used to help me in Potions. Every week, even when he had his own homework. He brought me Pepper-Up Potion when I was sick last winter.”

Theodore’s jaw clenched. “And you still watched me break him.”

“We didn’t know,” Mattheo said, quieter than he’d ever spoken before. “We didn’t know you were serious.”

“I wasn’t at first!” Theodore shouted. “That’s the worst part. I wasn’t. I was just like you. Laughing. Lying. Pretending it meant nothing. But then… then he started showing me stars. Telling me about the universe like it was a love letter. And I—” His voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “I started seeing myself in the sky.”

No one spoke.

Until Pansy stepped forward, tears prickling at her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “We’re all sorry. We didn’t just hurt him. We hurt you. We made you into someone you're not.”

Lorenzo nodded, voice hoarse. “We were cruel. And we deserve whatever comes from it.”

Draco’s lips pressed together tightly. He gave a single, solemn nod. “We were wrong, Theodore.”

Theodore stared at them, throat tight, chest aching.

“You don’t deserve forgiveness,” he said coldly. “But you can start by never mocking his name again. Ever. And if you really want to make it right… start by remembering the kind of person he is. Not the one we turned him into.”

Mattheo ran a hand down his face and let out a shaky breath. “You’re right.”

“We’re sorry,” Astoria repeated, voice almost too soft to hear.

Theodore didn’t respond.

He didn’t need to.

Because the damage was already done.

But at least now, they knew it.

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sourvers · 1 year ago

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WHEN YOU'RE PRICE'S BELOVED WIFE who exudes class and the fine mist of confidence through the click of your leather boots, the gentle swish of your trench coat and the glimmer in your earings. When you walk into base for the first time- delivering your husbands forgotten paperwork from your office- of course the boys can't help but soak up your velvety voice and candid laugh like the tint of red wine on your pretty lips. No wonder Price said, “My wife is beautiful.”

WHEN YOU'RE PRICE'S BLUNT WIFE who wants nothing more but to ensure a breathing Price walks through you're house doors. Which means you want the 'boys' to be safe too! You chide them firmly, crossing your arms over your chest, your voice that of a captain giving orders or a mother you can't refuse. Price can't help but stifle a laugh; attempting to nod his head while you point your fingers at towering men who could crush you with a flick of their finger. Yet, the three of them remain paralyzed. You shoot a glare at Price. Best not anger the missus...

WHEN YOU'RE PRICE'S HARD WORKING WIFE who stands firm in your opinions and speaks cut, clear and concise. When the boys find out you're a university professor: an academic of considerable standard, their not entirely shaken. They learn how hard you fucking worked for your position. While their out in the fields, you're teaching the next generation; plunging yourself into the heart of ignorance and rooting it out, lifting it up to the heat of the sun, watching it melt in palm of your tender hands. Price says its a relief you're so strong, just in case things go south.

WHEN YOU'RE PRICE'S KINDHEARTED WIFE who has the imagination of child and the freedom of a bird. You lift kids up in the air, make snow angels, bake cookies at 12 in the morning and laugh until the rest of the world can hear you. While your face may be riddled with acute angles and sharp turns- the curve of your smile shines like a star. You invited them over to your place for a night, cooking Price's favourite for all to share. That was when they saw you, really saw how much love was swelling in your big heart as you danced and sang with no care; pressing a kiss on Price’s cheek with each new song.

WHEN YOU'RE PRICE'S SECRETLY SAD WIFE who wishes life didn't have to be this way. Who wishes you didn't have to be so 'strong' all the time. Who questions if you were even strong from the start. Who desperately desires a stable life as the years go by— maybe your own kids in your arms and not your coworkers. You didn't think Soap would hear you that night in the backyard, crouched down drying your tears while muttering words he couldn't understand except the single phrase, “I wish my husband wasn’t a fucking captain.”

WHEN YOU’RE PRICE’S LONELY WIFE who thinks it’s best if you stopped visiting him at work— “I think I’m distracting you love.” Inviting the boys for dinner— “I’m afraid I’m busy as of late.” Or even talking to Laswell— “Best not disturb her!” Because the void of your home feels even deeper now despite all the years.

YOU’RE PRICE’S WIFE. You wake up and trace girlish hearts over your husband’s face— muscle memory. He pretends to sleep. You giggle. He brings you closer to his chest. You close your eyes and burry yourself in the tenderness of his heart: fighting the dread at the back of your mind. He whispers to you through a smile, “I can’t believe you’re my wife you know?”

Your lips form a tight smile, “Me too.”

cod masterlist. / similar posts

⤷ it honestly wasn’t meant to be this angsty. oh well. reblog and comments are highly appreciated!

#writing ୨ৎ #cod mw2 #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #cod #john price #price x reader #price x you #price x female reader #john price x reader #cod t141 #cod t141 x reader #t141 x reader #ghost cod #price cod

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lnfours · 1 year ago

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* ✰. — birds of a feather | l.n

summary: i’ll love you til the day that i die.

warnings: the result of the new billie eilish album being on repeat and me having this song stuck in my head, so this was born. fluff, fluff and more fluff bc i said so. slowly getting my creative juices back, so bear with me.

masterlist | soundtrack

you hadn’t been looking for anything when you had met lando. a freshly graduated student who finally had time to find interest in their personal life, rather then spend their time consumed with textbooks in front of them, trying to navigate your way through the chaotic mess of life.

but the moment the curly haired brit bumped into you in the paddock, sending your notes and fresh cup of coffee all over you and the ground, you were doomed. falling head first into the comforting chaos that was lando norris.

and you thanked your stars every morning when you woke up that you had been running late that day, or else you would’ve never met the sleeping boy next to you. wouldn’t have ever gotten the chance to get to know the sought after driver with a big heart and who loves with his whole soul.

you smiled to yourself, sitting in the bed and taking in the way he slept peacefully, not aware how pretty he looked in the morning sun as it peaked in through your blinds. his cheek pressed against the pillow, his lips slightly parted as he slept.

you couldn’t help but reach out and brush the stray curl away from his face, smiling softly as he stirred in his sleep at your touch. your silent way to keep going, your nails scratching at his scalp gently. a soft hum came from him, followed by the gorgeous sight of his green eyes shining up at you. his eyes fully adjusting to the brightness as he squinted, his hand reaching out to yours.

“c’mere,”

his voice was hoarse and sleep coated, but it never failed to send shivers down your spine. you scooted closer, letting him pull you into his side. your face nuzzled in his bare shoulder, his head laying on top of yours.

“we need to be up soon,” you said, poking his ribs gently, “your family’s coming to see the new house and have dinner, remember?”

he didn’t, actually. and if it wasn’t for you, he’d be certain he’d miss all of his meetings, call times, and hell, even sometimes the start of his races. thankfully, you were never far from him on the pitlane. the perks of working with sky, who he should really thank. he’d make a mental note to do it next race. right now, he was going to enjoy the peaceful month he got to spend with you. uninterrupted peace, free time. where you got to whatever you wanted, wherever you wanted.

he groaned, nuzzling his face into your hair. you laughed softly, “lando,”

“i like when you say my name,” he mumbled, “say it again.”

you chuckled, and in your best flirty tone you could muster up in the moment, you did, “lando,”

he pressed a soft kiss to the skin of your neck, right where your neck and collarbone met. his favorite spot to kiss whenever he teased you because he knew you were ticklish.

and as if on queue, you giggled, shoving his head from your neck, “stop it,”

“just five more minutes,” he pleaded, “with my girl, in our bed, that’s all i ask.”

you sighed, “fine, but not one second longer.”

he smiled, knowing he could always get you to fold. you hated to admit it, but you’d always cave for him. do whatever he wanted. he had you wrapped around his finger and you had him wrapped around yours. smitten for each other, young in love, whatever you wanted to call it, you were it.

“how’d you sleep?” you asked, finger tips tracing the lines in your mind that you drew with your fingers every morning. connecting the moles on his skin, from his shoulders to his chest and down to his sides. your own little routine you had incorporated, a habit you picked up after the first night you spent together a year and a half ago.

“good until you woke me up.”

“you love when i wake you up.”

“you’re right,” he mumbled, “getting to see that pretty face every morning is the highlight of my day.”

you chuckled, leaning up on your elbow, reaching around and grabbing his cheek into your hand. he smiled softly as you leaned down, pressing your lips to his.

he pulled away, a smile on his lips as they brushed against yours, “and your morning kisses, i love waking up to your lips on mine, or on my-“

you shook your head, laughing and covering his face with your pillow before pulling yourself out from the covers, “alright, time to get up!”

“that wasn’t five minutes!” he gasped, tossing your pillow your way softly, teasingly. you laughed, walking into the connected bathroom, calling back to him.

“long enough! you killed the romantic mood,”

��i’m only speaking my truth, baby,” he said, footsteps joining you in the bathroom, watching him lean against the doorway out of the corner of your eye, “is a man not allowed to speak his truth?”

you popped the toothbrush in your mouth, sending him a glare. he laughed, pressing a kiss to your head before grabbing his own toothbrush from his side of the sink. he joined you in brushing your teeth, wrapping an arm around your waist. you smiled softly, trying to ignore how good he looked. sweatpants loosely hanging around his waist, bare chest on full display, curls wild and in serious need of taming.

you two looked good together, and even though he wasn’t necessarily considered ‘tall’ he still stood a few inches above you. his green eyes met yours in the mirror, and he knew you were subtly checking him out. he sent you a wink and you rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you finished brushing your teeth.

he finished shortly after you, watching you as you rummaged around in your drawer. you pulled out the skincare he had seen you put on every morning and night, and even has put on for you after nights where you’ve had one too many vodka redbulls.

he leaned against the counter, watching you in the mirror as you rubbed the product into your skin, “can i have some?”

you giggled, moving to stand between his legs. you squeezed a little bit of the moisturizer onto your fingers, rubbing into his face. he grinned softly at your gentle touch, “that smells good.”

you nodded, “and it has sunscreen in it, it’s good for you.”

he motioned towards your drawer, “do you have any lip balm?”

you hummed, putting the tube back before grabbing the lip balm. you went to hand it to him but he raised an eyebrow at you. you sighed with a laugh, shaking your head.

“gimme,” you said, grabbing his chin and swiping the lip balm against his pursed lips. you couldn’t help but giggle again, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips when you were done, “there.”

he rubbed his lips together and hummed, “hmm, is that coconut?”

you nodded, “like it?”

he nodded, pulling you in closer by your waist, “love it.”

you grabbed his wrist, checking the time on his watch, “they’ll be here in an hour.”

“so what i’m hearing is-“

“no,” you shoved his shoulder with another laugh, “what im saying is that i need to run to the store and get flowers for the vase on the table.”

“who needs flowers,” he said, pressing a kiss to your chest, “when i could have you back in my bed, all to myself for a little while longer until i have to share you for the rest of the day.”

you ran a hand through his hair, his eyes looking up to meet yours, “as tempting as it sounds, i really do have to run to the store. plus, i have to get some stuff for dinner.”

he sighed dramatically, “okay,”

you walked into the closet, rummaging through his side and stealing one of his hoodies and fishing out a pair of sweatpants. a quick outfit to run a few last minute errands.

he had found his way to the kitchen, standing at the coffee pot. you pinched his side, kissing his shoulder. he turned his head and smiled, leaning down and kissing your head, “need anything while i’m out?”

“mm,” he hummed, “breakfast? i don’t feel like cooking.”

you laughed, “me either. i’ll pick up something.”

he nodded, smiling playfully, “i guess you can take my car.”

“oh i was going to,” you said, grabbing his key off the hook, “even without your permission.”

“rude!”

you laughed, blowing him a kiss, “i’ll be back. i love you.”

“i love you too.”

your trip to the store was quick, making it back within a half an hour, arms full of things as you carried everything inside, closing the door with your foot. you set everything on the counter, hanging the keys back on the hook.

“i’m back!”

“i’m in the bedroom!” his voice called back to you. you made your way down the hallway and into the bedroom, smiling as he held up two shirts in the mirror.

“which looks better?” he asked, holding both up against the pair of plaid pants he had picked out. you hummed, standing behind him and watching his reflection. his hair being perfectly styled and his cologne filling the room telling you he had been getting ready while you were gone.

you pointed to the white shirt, “that one.”

“you think?”

you nodded, watching him take it off the hanger and slipping it over his shoulders. you stepped in front of him, buttoning the buttons. purposefully leaving the top few open.

he rolled up the sleeves, sending you a look, “might as well have my whole shirt unbuttoned.”

“i wouldn’t complain.” you joked and he smiled, before quickly realizing your attire. you smile as he started pulling at the hem of his hoodie that sat on your frame.

“hey! this is mine.”

the baby blue hoodie looked better on you anyway, but he still liked to joke around with you, “i know.”

“thief.”

“come and get it then.” you shrugged, crossing your arms.

“oh, so now you’re in the mood?” he asked, “what was it? the buttons?”

you laughed as he wrapped his arms around your waist, “maybe.”

“you’re going to be the death of me.”

“you love me.” you smiled, his hands finding your warm, soft skin under his hoodie.

“damn right i do, baby. til the day i die.”

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penvisions · 8 days ago

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finding your place {part one}

Pairing: Din Djarin x F! Reader

Summary: A simple job that seems like a handout, an offhand comment, and suddenly you find yourself the caretaker for a little green child. You don't mind spending your nighttime hours with him but his father on the other hand makes you a little uncomfortable because you feel like a nuisance in his space...

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: reader has female features but nothing overly descriptive, star wars content that may or may not be canon, domestic setting, pining, reader thinks din is intimidating, perceived silent treatment, din is awkward but it comes off as rude (cause he's just like that lol), more to be added but this is pretty tame

A/N: just a little idea that popped into my head and held me hostage until i jotted it down

ao3 link || navigation || ko-fi

It starts with a favor from Karga. Greef Karga, the High Magistrate of the world you’ve found yourself settling on. You’re just a simple maintenance worker in the building he occupies for work. He preferred droids but decided to either take a chance on you or take pity on you to keep his office neat and tidy during the day, fetching things he may need from around the city and sitting in to take notes on meetings and comm calls. It’s an easy job, though taxing in its own ways.

A fussy green child who needs a bit of help calming down, a light weight in your arms as you sit and hold him. He’s not outright crying but he’s making a lot of sounds that tug on your heartstrings. You’ve never met the little guy before but he’s clinging to you like he’s comfortable, pressing his little button nose into your shoulder and his ears wiggle in little flaps.

Karga flitted around in his pretty robes, the fabric hushing quietly as he does so until it was time for lunch. Dismissed for the hour with a wave of his hand, you’re now wandering around the stalls that offer so much to choose from in the city center. The streets are lined, packed, a little loud but you walk smoothly through the crowd of people with the enamored bundle in your arms.

Everything is under control, the exchange of credits for a good spread of snacks and a bright blue shake of milk and fruit with jelly like orbs at the bottom bring out happy coos and babbles from the child as you settle on the concrete circling around a large tree. The shade allows for some relief from the high sun, the brightness shining down with no regard for your poor eyes.

After inhaling the food you purchased, the hour is nearly up. You’re about to scale the stairs that lead up to the building’s entrance when a modulated voice startles you.

“You don’t even know his name.” Looking over you see none other than the silver Mandalorian you’ve glimpsed around the city. Karga’s mentioned him a few times, citing the city’s ability to turn a new leave in part to the man. You’ve also filed the paperwork to start a credit deposit for him, though you weren’t sure what his new role would be just yet.

His presence feels intense, a silent threat if his words were any indication- aimed at you with an edge to them. Something accusatory even if you had no idea why he approaching you now of all times. You kept to yourself, never stepping out of line in regards to the law or at work, and now as you’re doing Karga a favor outside of your normal activities is when he decided to approach you.

“Uh, no, sir, I don’t,” Your fingers tighten around the child, holding him closer to your chest as he continues to sleep soundly. His belly full and his heart happy from the outing. “I really should get back inside, my boss is probably waiting for me and this little guy needs to-”

“I’ll take him.” The Mandalorian pushes off from where he was leaning against the column that makes up part of the stairs. The sun shines brightly off his armor, the silver of the beskar mesmerizing and intimidating all at once. Regardless, you feel protective over the bundle in your arms and not just for the sake of your continued employment.

“No offense, but I don’t know who you are and I’ve been instructed to look after him.”

“Shouldn’t have been.” His gloved hands move to his waist, the stance making you feel like you were about to be lectured.

“Excuse me?” Your eyes narrow, not liking the underlying accusation in his monotone words. You weren’t one to rise to threats or push conversations into anything beyond what they are, but you feel anger rise in your chest- tight and hot as you realize he has a problem with you.

But the armored man doesn’t say anything further, he just walks away and up into the building, leaving you standing there feeling a little more than confused and annoyed at the exchange.

“Ah, you’re back!” Karga greet loudly as you scan your badge to enter his office. He’s seated behind his desk, the Mandalorian from outside in one of the two chairs on the other side of it. “As I was saying, I put my assistant here in charge of looking after him and judging by the way she’s managed to calm him down- all is well, Mando.”

“She took him outside of the building.”

“Did she now?” Karga doesn’t seem to feel the same way as the man, the Mandalorian currently staring you down, his dark visor pinned on you as you move to set the sleeping child in the pod he arrived in.

“Just to get some food, it was my lunch break.” You don’t bother explaining to the severe man that it was an unpaid break and that you didn’t have to continue looking after the child but that you hadn’t minded spending more time with him nor spending your hard earned credits to get him something to eat. It wouldn’t matter, it seems you’re already on his list of people he doesn’t like.

“Someone could’ve taken him from her.”

“Nonsense, she’s trained!” Karga looks you over with a thoughtful arch to his brow. “Right?”

The scoff that comes through the modulator is harsh.

“I left him to you- not the school and not to her. To you.” The Mandalorian points an accusatory finger at the magistrate, who merely waves it off.

“Well, seeing as this is between the two of you,” You adjust your tunic and reach for the toolbox you left in the office earlier. “I’ll get back to adjusting the coding for the lower floors- figure out why some clearance badges were working, and some weren’t earlier this morning.”

“You’ve got to loosen up, Mando.” Is the last thing you hear before the doors close behind you and you go back to your day as if nothing happened. Except, the more problems you run into with the coding the more annoyed you feel and the more lectured you feel for simply following the command of your boss by looking over the child for the first half of your day.

You understand being protective, you get being cautious, but you were trained and more than capable of watching over the child. You might not have armor, let alone Mandalorian armor, or a plethora of weapons but you had a vibro blade and a blaster. More than enough to stand your ground in case someone approached you or tried something.

Once the coding is fixed, you make your way down to the ground floor. Just as you’re pressing your own badge against the sensor to a room off of the main entrance, a loud cheer has you whipping around. Securely in his pod, the kid is practically bouncing in place and holding his hands out to you as it shifts direction toward you. Sighing, the armored man follows behind until they’re both in front of you.

You wave hesitantly at the kid, eyes flitting up to the visor you feel trained on you, the man’s gaze heavy from behind the helmet.

“He likes you.” Is what he says to break the silence.

“I fed him, that’s all it is.” You wave a hand to dismiss their attention, not wanting to chance angering the man further.

“Karga said he was wailing for an hour until you calmed him down.”

“In my defense, Karga tried his best for most of that hour. He calmed down after I started humming to him.” It was simple really, a cradle to your chest, a little bit of bouncing, a little bit of humming, and then he was as calm as could be.

“You’re good with him. He likes you.”

“Um, okay. Well, I’ve got more work to get done,” You jut a thumb over your shoulder towards the door you were about to disappear through. Unsure of what to make of this exchange but wanted it to end all the same.

“You work here full time?”

“Excuse me?”

“You…have evenings free?” Your brows rise at the phrasing, unsure of where he was going with the line of questioning.

“Uh, yeah mostly.”

“You enjoy this work? With Karga?”

“It’s work, but mostly.” Your eyes bounce from him to the child still vying for your attention, so you reach out a hand and his little claw latches on tight. He uses it as purchase to start climbing out of his pod. Both of you reach for him at the same time, gloved hands brushing yours as the child continues to move toward you and into your arms. Your heart rachets up as the man steps closer, clearly within your personal space.

His visor trained on you, the even way he’s breathing, all of it makes you feel dizzy and a little overwhelmed. But the child in your arms doesn’t seem to care about his overly protective father, as he reaches up to pat his little palm against your cheek and giggles loudly.

“Ba-ba-ba!” His little voice gets louder and louder as you blow air into your cheeks to inflate them, the sound his palm makes changing and pulling a squeal from him. Neither of you flinch at the high pitch, but you do feel your heart stutter in your chest.

“I…have to be gone for a couple nights, to do some work for Karga.”

“Um…okay?” Your eyes don’t leave the happy face of the squirming kid, the visor is a little intimidating, a little mysterious, and a little attractive with how its framed on the helmet.

“Grogu…would be in good hands if you were to watch him.” A babble, a pat of his palm and the air thickens around you both.

You don’t respond right away, waiting for the man to expand on what he means. A little cruel perhaps, with your growing knowledge of him being a man of few words but you can’t bring yourself to care. He’s been…an odd one to interact with and you aren’t sure how to respond anyway.

“I have a house, out on the flats. There is a spare room. I….would pay you and supply a food stipend.” You glance up at him, the wall of armor he makes. He seems genuine in his roundabout proposal, Karga trusts him, he’s obviously protective over his son. You soften at the offer to spend more time with the kid, to have something to do with your nights other than going home to an empty apartment.

“To watch Grogu.” At the sound of his name coming from you, Grogu laughs and claps his hands together.

“Yes.”

“I, uh…yeah, yes. Okay, how does that sound to you, huh?” You bring a hand up to boop his button nose and he delights in the action. He reaches for your own nose and you lean down a little for him to reach it. When he makes to mirror your action, you open your mouth and pretend to nibble on his reaching fingers.

“You trust me?”

“Karga said I could.” He intones, though it sounds more like something he feels needs to be said rather than what he really wants to say. But you can gauge the minimal truth in his words, Karga does trust you and you know he would defend you against the Mandalorian’s concerns and questions.

“Okay, um, what do…I call you?” You place Grogu back into his pod and boop his nose once more before you reach into your pocket and hand him the last of the cookies from lunch. A few of them, nothing too crazy. He greedily shovels one in his mouth as he settles into the blanket around him.

“Mando is fine.”

“It’s not…diminutive?” You step to the side, needing more breathing air than was allowed with how close he was. From those first steps to potentially catch Grogu when he rushed toward you.

“Everyone calls me that.” He says it like it doesn’t bother him, like it doesn’t matter what people refer to him as, so long as it isn’t his given name. But you wonder all the same, what it might be.

“…okay. Um, well, I have to finish making new badges for the staff.” You brandish your own badge at him, your name displayed on it. Your comm link code is printed neatly on it as well and you watch him punch it into the cuff over his wrist.

“Come over tomorrow after work and I’ll show you around the place.”

“Sounds good, see you then.” You wiggle your fingers at Grogu before scanning your badge and walking into the maintenance office. You feel his gaze follow you until the door shuts completely. You wait with bated breath until you hear his steps continue through the entranceway and out the front doors before you lean forward to rest your hands on your desk and hang your head between them.

Huffing out, you can’t help the slightly hysterical laugh that filters past your lungs.

What the hell have you just gotten yourself into? Grogu you could handle, but Mando, you have no idea how to interact with the wall of armor that doesn’t seem to like you but was told he could trust you with his son.

taglist: @mandaloriankait @sawymredfox @copperhalfcent @mosssbawls @jessthebaker @evolnoomym @saradika @djarins-cyare @grogusmum @furiousmushroom

dividers and banners by the lovely @cafekitsune and @saradika-graphics

#dev writes #fic: finding your place #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfic #din djarin and grogu #din and grogu #ppcu #ppcu fandom #ppcu fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you

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prael · 9 months ago

Text

Oranges And Flowers

Kinktember Day 18: Romance

IU (Lee Jieun) x male reader smut

words: 10,517 Kinktember Masterlist

"Can I be honest with you all?" A question for a question, and they all turn their heads, and finally you offer them a real answer. "I didn't really know what I was getting myself into—when I applied to stay here, that is—I just needed a place to stay for the week."

The evening air is humid and still, the sky a flat obsidian black with shining constellations, and underneath it, surrounding a fire, is a circle of maybe the most mismatched group of people ever assembled. There are the stars of course, Hyori and Sangsoon, owners of the house and the famous couple hosting you all—then, Lee Jieun; you know the one, probably the single most famous person in the country, just casually sitting there in her summer dress as if she was nothing special at all. And then there's the guests, an assortment of people you still don't really know. The old couple, the young couple, and the sisters.

And, finally: you.

"So you applied to the TV show, just for somewhere to stay?" Hyori's laughter carries and is as contagious as it is clear and pleasant.

"Honestly," you look around the circle. "I didn't read a lot of the info, and even now I'm not too sure what's actually going on in the show."

This earns a laugh from the group, they're all looking at you, and not in that 'you-fucking-moron' sort of way, no, their faces are full of smiles. Though, one stands out above the rest.

"And you?" Hyori turns her attention to the next person in the circle, one of the sisters who is sitting on your left. All the stares move along with the questions, switching focus to the girl—all except one. Jieun sits directly across from you and her gaze rests stoically upon your face, an unreadable smile painting her delicate lips a plush and radiant pink. Between you, the fire burns. It sends spiralling embers shooting into the night and, behind it, the orange light dances over her skin. It would be so easy to get the wrong idea here. This place is just so beautiful, everything is picture-perfect, and all these postcard-worthy scenes feel even better when Lee Jieun is a part of the composition.

Laughter breaks out in the group again for some joke you never paid attention to. It steals the attention of you both, however, turning to the girl and joining in the laughter with a meek half-hearted chuckle, looking around at them all awkwardly before returning your eyes to Lee Jieun. She returns the look and lifts her drink, taking a long sip through a straw.

You weren't too sure about all this the first day you arrived. On paper it seems like such an obvious idea, you didn't have to pay a penny and the producers even picked you up from the airport, all in exchange for being a bit-part background character that no one who watches will ever really remember or care about. In reality, it has changed the whole holiday. The requirements for guests were rather simple. You just need to be around for a few set activities by the producer, all worked around your schedule, and then you're free to enjoy your time however you like.

That first morning, you were greeted at the house by Hyori and Sangsoon. Introductions were made and then a short tour began, all under the camera's watchful eye.

It was okay, you could handle it, right up until you were taken into the kitchen and standing there was Lee fucking Jieun. Apparently, you skipped over the part that said IU was going to be here. It was like staring into the sun. Of course, Hyori was quick to joke as you stood there stunned and silent with an open mouth that could catch a mosquito or two.

"Why am I being outshone in my own house? Jieun, you need to leave." Hyori playfully poked her friend in the arm, and Jieun just giggled along. And like the world's biggest idiot, you couldn't even muster a simple 'Hello'. Great first impression there.

From then on you were shown where you would sleep and you bumped into some of the other guests. They seemed normal enough. One was nice, one seemed grumpy, and the others—well, you really didn't know yet. When you settled into your room, you yearned to just do something normal, to not get overwhelmed. Making some tea seemed like the perfect grounding activity.

When you got there, the kitchen was empty. The teapot was already out, but everything else was decidedly harder to find. Then came that soft and gentle voice from behind you. "You won't find anything to steal in there; it's all baking supplies." It made you jump, and you snapped around to see Jieun leaning against a fridge door, smiling over a glass of something clear and carbonated.

You pointed at your chest like an idiot. "I'm... not looking to steal."

"Too bad." She took a long and dramatic sip. "It would have made for good television. Plus, you look like a kleptomaniac to me. Brooding and mysterious, travelling alone, all that sort of thing."

"I'm actually just trying to make some tea."

"Oh perfect, let me. Here," She took the cup from the kitchen counter, placed it in front of you, and then moved beside you to open the correct cupboard to pull out some tea leaves. It was funny the kind of thing that can go into making a good impression and the pressure you put on yourself to do so. How many would kill for this chance, to stand close to Jieun in an otherwise empty room? Yet, your mind was swimming, you were trying desperately to not think about the very famous, attractive, woman who stood shoulder-to-shoulder with you—trying desperately and failing horribly as the thoughts of something funny to say slipped out of reach entirely.

She leant in towards you—well, towards your cup—and you jumped back, trying to play it off as a simple 'making way' manoeuvre, but her little side-eye glance and smile told you how stupid you looked.

"This is one of the few things I know what to do. Tea. I can make tea," she was saying as she filled up the teapot. "They asked me to try and bake some bread this morning, but..."

"Where is it now?"

"It's in here," she pointed at the rubbish bin with a free hand.

"I think it bakes better in the oven. Can't tell you much more than that though." Boy did this woman laugh. Like, a lot. As if it was the funniest thing she had heard all week. Her shoulders shook and her whole body swayed, and when the teapot whistled it made her jump, which sent her spiralling back into another fit.

And suddenly, she looked so... normal.

You know it's unfair to say celebrities are anything other than just normal people, because of course they are normal people, it's not like fame and money change them on a fundamental level. That being said, they can't help but not be normal in the eyes of many. Celebrities are celebrities, like how someone with blue hair is always blue-haired. But, at the end of the day, Jieun, whether she is IU the singer and TV star or Jieun the disaster of a breadmaker, is just a regular, normal, though very gorgeous, woman.

And she looks that way now, too, across the campfire. Sure, the cameras are rolling and she puts a little extra emphasis and playfulness on her expressions and movements—who wouldn't for the sake of good television—but in this moment, right here, right now, she's a completely normal and likeable human being, one you think you might enjoy being around. Hyori continues to lead the discussion around the fire pit, asking a few probing questions about the guest's hobbies and home lives, then posing riddles to the group and comparing their answers with her husband Sangsoon's.

For you, her questions are answered quickly, giving them a quick thought and little else before letting them fall from your lips.

When Hyori moves her focus along, she doesn't fail to pick up on the way you and Jieun spend the remaining half hour or so, looking at each other, smiling every so often, then quickly pulling your gaze away as if caught red-handed doing something sinful.

~~~

"We're going to pick oranges this morning." Hyori is explaining over breakfast. "I know, it's not the most exciting but it's the Jeju staple activity, so we have to do it. All guests are welcome to join us."

The young couple sat to your right immediately volunteered their services, followed soon after by the older man and his wife. Once their attendance was secure, the rest seemed significantly less interested and all excused themselves for other tasks. As the only person yet to respond, Jieun turned the spotlight on you, "How about you? Are you going to join us?"

You shrugged. "Uh, I was going to meet a friend, actually."

Hyori is quick to follow up, "You could see them in the afternoon right? Come with us, it will be fun." There are a few puzzled looks around the table. See, Hyori didn't push anyone else to go, no, only you. "Your friend won't mind right?"

In all honesty, your friend might very well be livid, though he might very well lighten up if you told him who you were spending your morning with instead. You run a hand through your hair and admit defeat, looking towards her. "Okay, I'll come along."

An answer that produces an immediate, but brief shared glance between Hyori and Jieun.

~~~

The journey there was lacklustre, a short ride, with the other guest, separated from the stars who rode ahead. The staff member with you gave you a basic run down, they are only planning to use the guests in some overhead shots and some background shots, everything else would be focused on the three of them.

But, after climbing the stone steps and passing through the orchard gate, Hyori takes charge of the situation. "We'll split up into pairs. Our two older lovebirds can go together, and our younger couple too. Sangsoon is with me and..." She stops. Hyori gives you a devious grin, one that speaks louder than words. "That leaves you two." She gives a final affirming nod before striding over to join Sangsoon.

And just like that, you find yourself walking through the grove alongside a girl you've only ever seen on TV before. This morning she wore a cute ensemble that accentuated her long legs. Another flowing sundress with a belt tied tight at the waist to show off that lithe, feminine shape. It's a silent first few steps, walking off down between two rows of trees, both waiting for the other to initiate the conversation.

Jieun speaks first, breaking through the tension. "So, you said you know someone on the island?"

"Uh," you brush a loose strand of hair from your eye. "A couple of them actually, old friends. One lives in Jeju and another's been here for work and he said I should visit when I'm in the area."

"What are they like?" Jieun stops, so do you, and then she steps across you, before crouching down to take an orange from the low-hanging fruit. "The friends."

"Uhm..." What are they like? Good friends, obviously, otherwise you wouldn't be making this trip. Where's the drama, where are the fun anecdotes, or the moments of soul searching. Nothing comes to mind. "They're fine?"

It earns a chuckle from Jieun. "Fine?" She stands facing you, dropping the fruit into the basket you're carrying. "Is that all?" She flashes you the sweetest smile, an endearing smile, one that begs you to open up a little more.

"I met them recently, actually, it's been mostly online, to tell the truth." Jieun ducks down to get the next fruit, you bend down too and pluck at another on the opposite side, rotating to turn to her and handing her the basket, standing back up and following beside her once more. "They're funny, one of them is a big foodie. Always posts pictures of stuff like the best bibimbap in Busan or whatever. Has a whole food blog that's fairly popular."

Jieun nods, pondering and popping a new piece of fruit into the basket. "Do you like food?"

"Can't live without it," you joke.

Jieun chuckles, and you laugh with her. It is hard not to, her laughter is so cute. "So can you cook?" she follows.

"Instant noodles is about all I know."

"Somehow I even manage to ruin those," she admits with a fake frown and a laugh. "I think that's part of the reason I'm on this show."

"What's that?" you ask as Jieun reaches for another ripe fruit, she pulls it from the branch and then somehow manages to drop it on the floor, a gesture you couldn't help but find positively adorable. She runs a few steps after it as it begins to roll on the hard dirt ground, and bends over to scoop it up, presenting it to you victoriously with her smile.

"What's what?"

"You said it's why you're on the show."

"Oh, because I'm kind of, useless? Clumsy, not very domesticated, really."

"Those things don't make you useless, you're anything but useless." Is that flirting? A line you spout before the weight of the words and the loaded tone settle in your own mind. Jieun turns to you, eyes sparkling, cheeks rising as she smiles wider than you had seen before.

"And why is that?" There's no escaping her questioning, and maybe she enjoys it a little.

"Well." A fruit, any fruit, grab another fruit. Look away and look at the tree. Breathe. Turn to her again. You can do it. "You just put all your talents into singing and performing and acting and whatever else you do right? You put all your skill points into one tree so to speak, instead of scattering them to fill multiple."

She stops. Frowns. "What?" Her face twists in a confused mess. "Skill points?"

"Oh. It's like, in games, when you earn skill points to improve something and choose what you want to..." You realise how utterly ridiculous you sound. "Never mind."

Her face is one of wonder, there's this mixture of confusion, curiosity, and her clearly fighting back laughter. "No," she laughs. "Continue, please, you were doing a whole thing there."

"I embarrassed myself enough for one day. Thank you."

"Are you a bit of a nerd?" She asks with this teasing smirk before spinning away, her floral dress flowing in the wind, and walking further ahead.

"Hey! No! Not a nerd!" you call after her, following in her wake.

"Look like a nerd to me" She twirls around just before the turn in the row, leaning on the trunk of one of the few taller trees, smirking and playfully twirling a few strands of her dark hair around her delicate fingers.

From then on, the conversation flows far easier and quicker than it probably should. A playful back and forth as she questions your hobbies and quirks, you fire back asking for her own. Things range from the kinds of books she likes to her telling you how she always sings into her toothbrush every morning when she is brushing her teeth. You promised not to tell a soul, as her secret was safely in your hands. She has a quick wit and a slightly goofy sense of humour, the kind of things a magazine spread or a soju advertisement could never communicate or capture.

Despite her charm and charisma though, the thing that shines through the most is the way she listens to you. With genuine care and fascination, and not just for the cameras, no, it felt genuine. Honest. True.

"No. You can not be serious!"

"One hundred percent true." You pull out your phone and show her the photos on the screen. A blurry mess at first before you flip to another.

"That's you? And that's... is that..." She doesn't need to finish, she takes hold of the phone and holds it directly up against her face. "Why did you think that was a good idea?"

"I never thought it was a good idea, I lost a bet, and we had been drinking. Bad decisions were inevitable."

"This might well be the single worst tattoo I have ever seen." She doesn't stop squinting at the photo. "Why is it upside down?"

"I don't think the orientation would make it any better."

"Wait," Jieun says, looking away from your phone and into your eyes. "You have to show me it, I want to see it with my own eyes."

"Absolutely not."

Jieun slaps at your arm, pretending to be upset. "Come on!"

"Jieun, even if I wanted to show you my ass, there would be no point, I had it lasered off like 2 months later."

Jieun's laughter could ring for a day. It's infectious, it's a laughter that communicates how light, happy and free-spirited she feels—and it makes you feel exactly the same. You talk a bit about travelling, too. Places you've been, places you would still like to go. For Jieun, it became a bit of a flex. A concert here and a concert there, movie filming there and a photoshoot here.

"You've seen the world, and met everyone, but here you are picking oranges with me."

"Here I am." Jieun stepped aside as you passed, looking around at the beautiful weather and the swaying tree branches. "I like this more, I think." She stops. You turn, seeing her suddenly shift a bit shy. "It's nice, this..."

"Oranges are nice and all..."

Jieun giggles. "No, silly," Jieun purses her lips. "This. Me and—"

"Hey, you two! Having a nice time!?" Sangsoon calls out to the pair of you from a few rows down. In unison, the two of you turn to him, to his big, smiling face, and then watch as Hyori hits him on the shoulder and admonishes him for interrupting. For a second it looks as though Jieun is blushing as she looks away from his gaze and towards the ground, scratching her brow, hand almost acting as a shield.

"We should get back."

"Yeah, I'm all orange'd out," you say, holding up the full basket.

~~~

You had spent the afternoon away from the house, which was probably for the best, spending some time in reality instead of this strange new world where you're suddenly hanging out with IU. The friend, your old university colleague and Jeju local was eager to catch up. Despite a minor disagreement—or two, or ten—he took it in good sport. Before nightfall though, you had returned and had just taken a shower.

There's a knock at the door, so you quickly pull on a shirt and open it to find Hyori on the other side. "Hey stranger," she follows your gesture and walks into the room before perching on your bed. "How was your time today?"

You close the door behind you. "Fun. I spent some time catching up with some friends."

"And making a new friend?"

A small nod. "I enjoyed myself today, it was all quite... different than what I had been doing. It was..." You weren't really sure how to follow up.

"I get it." Hyori leaned back on her hands. "But Jieun really seemed to have a lot of fun today."

You're stuck in this awkward silence, not wanting to say anything stupid but also refusing the play it down.

Hyori takes mercy on you. "Anyway," she pushes herself to her feet. "We're eating outside again, barbecue, come join us."

A smile appears, an acceptance of the invitation. She watches it come out and nods at it, as if pleased with your decision. And with a brief smile, she leaves the room and you're left alone. You leave the room.

You arrive on the back porch and watch the scene from a distance. Jieun sits by the fire in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, looking so naturally good it could take the breath of anyone who stared long enough. Her legs look spectacular in shorts, her chest looks perfect through a white t-shirt, and she looks breathtaking right now—in this light and under these circumstances. The fire-pit burns again and as it does, Hyori and Sangsoon stand near the grill, their backs turned and talking among themselves. By Jieun's feet rests one of Hyori's dogs, sound asleep.

As soon as your foot hits the grass to start walking over, Jieun turns to see you approaching and a radiant smile cuts right through your defences, punching into your heart and embedding a spear made entirely out of a whole array of butterflies. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't join us," she teased with a flick of her hand.

"Good to know I'm missed when not around."

Jieun is about to say something but appears to bite her tongue and look back at the fire. There's a space next to her on the little log chair she sits on, though you think it too presumptuous to sit right by her so soon, and take the little wooden armchair opposite instead, crossing your legs and stretching, pulling your phone from your pocket, to check for notifications. None. You stare at it anyway.

There's a solemn silence for a while, the cooking of meat and the playful bickering of the couple by the grill and the occasional chatter amongst the other guests. This leaves you and Jieun, slowly drinking from your glasses, separated by the fire.

After some time, the food begins to come in batches, and you eat with everyone else. The group shares the tale of their expedition to the oranges this morning, like how Hyori claims she found the largest orange of the day only for the young couple to later find and present a larger specimen. Some of the others share how they went into town and saw some old houses, or an old shrine, visited the beach and splashed around in the water and a few others sit and listen quietly, nursing their drinks.

Eventually, you begin to grow drowsy and stifled by the warm heat of the fire, a blanket that draws everyone closer, too close.

You stand, pat yourself off and let your gaze rest on the fire, then speak to no one in particular. "I'm going for a walk, thank you for the food," you say as you bow your head to your hosts.

"So late at night?" Jieun asks from her perch.

"Got a bit too warm is all, fresh air would be nice."

Jieun glanced down at the fire and her eyes shot up at you. "Let me join you, keep you company."

Hyori and Sangsoon share an understanding glance, before Hyori says, "Be careful you two."

Jieun stands up. "Soonshim can come with us, can't you Soonshim? You'll keep us safe." She bends down to stroke her behind the ears, and she lazily raises her head and grumbles in that cute way that animals do. She happily climbs to his feet and yawns.

Off you went, walking the stone path. Up a gentle incline before cutting left towards a quiet path cutting through some trees. For a while, the night is filled with the sound of rustling trees and the snapping of fallen sticks underfoot. That's all until Soonshim leads your party off onto an even more remote dirt track.

"Now where are you going?" Jieun coos playfully, not expecting much of a response.

"She probably knows this area better than we do," you suggest with a smile and Jieun returns it. You seem to bring a lot of smiles out in each other. Soonshim appears to have a destination in mind, the dog bounds along the track and you follow, the path becomes more and more unstable, and the darkness of the evening isn't doing either of you any favours.

Jieun steps up onto a stone in the path and she slips, wobbling from the momentum of the step with a small yelp and you catch her immediately in your arms.

"Careful," you chuckle nervously. She doesn't move, but relaxes into your chest, closing her eyes. You have her. You keep her steady, her breathing is fast and short. It slows and slows, her fingers lightly clasping at your arms. She relaxes and her voice comes at near a whisper.

"Thank you."

And then, slowly, she lifts herself away without looking you in the eye and lets out a small cough. She starts to walk again, this time holding onto your hand—for safety. You smile at the touch and gently squeeze back, taking care as you descend and traverse the difficult ground. Soonshim still leads onward, barking and jumping in her bounding little way and occasionally waiting for the slow, careless, humans to catch up as she heads uphill.

Before long you come to a clearing at the top which blesses you with a view of the rolling countryside, bathed in moonlight, and a peaceful soundscape, far removed from anything but the sounds of nature. Back down the hill, over the trees, you can see the roof of the house, and the glowing of the fire out front.

Soonshim finds a nice place for a rest, and the Jieun leans her head into your shoulder and says quietly, "Tell me something that no one knows."

Soonshim rests. Jieun looks expectant, and suddenly, you're struggling. There must be something interesting. No. Something cute or funny? No, nothing seems quite right. And yet her eyes are searching for answers. The seconds pass and you rack your brain trying to remember, going into the darkest of dungeons in your memories, hoping something would come.

"Something that no one knows," you mutter to yourself. Jieun leans closer. Something that no one knows. Soonshim yawns, laying her chin on her paws as her tail softly hits the grass beside her. "I had this girlfriend, a few years ago. She was kind and sweet and loving."

"What's not to love about that?"

"Ah well." You snickered, a chuckle under your breath. "When she's doing the same thing with another guy it kind of takes the shine off a little."

"Ah... I'm sorry," Jieun reaches out, resting a consoling hand on your forearm. Her grasp is delicate. "It must have been tough. How did you find out?"

"They were bad at hiding it. When I did confront her, she didn't deny it."

Jieun lets out a small breath, something between a gasp of surprise and a grunt of disbelief. "Wow. So did it end, like, there and then?"

"Yep. Walked out and have been free ever since. Never looked back." You smile, looking out across the plains below.

"Do you prefer to be free? Not tied down and always going after adventure?"

"If I wasn't free, I wouldn't be here. If I was tied down I would never make this trip."

"Doesn't answer my question," Jieun jokes then pokes you in the ribs.

"No. Not really." A period of silence follows as you take in the fresh air and the scenery before you. The sound of crickets rings out and the breeze swirls its way through the brush. Jieun seems to ponder on what you had just told her. Maybe it doesn't make much sense, or maybe you just came off a little weird. You can't be sure what she is thinking.

But speaking so plainly is a freeing feeling, and telling her feels right. As though the idea that she may judge you is, not unthinkable, but far more remote of a possibility.

"I broke up with someone too. Not long ago,. It wasn't anything as tragic as yours, but, we just didn't have the time to be together." She brushed at a stray hair, caught by the wind.

"I'm sorry." You turn to face her and she meets your eyes for only a moment before she turns to Soonshim who lifts her head and tilts it with the look that only a dog's can express. "She's beautiful," Jieun mutters softly, nodding her head to the sleeping canine, which wagged its tail at the acknowledgement.

"Yeah. She is beautiful." You say, not taking your eyes off of Jieun.

She draws back her gaze, and looks up, with a little confusion, eyes glimmering like gemstones, searching your own as she draws nearer and nearer to you. "Are you talking about Soonshim, or—"

"You."

Lee Jieun steps into the kiss, onto her tiptoes and lifts herself as high as she can to press her soft lips on yours. Your heart seemed to miss a beat, or five, as you leant into it, capturing her lips with your own. You pull your arms around her, in a tight embrace and her heartbeat thunders against you.

And when Jieun pulls her lips away from yours, you lean in again, capturing her lips once more. You cradle the back of her head and guide the kiss, ever so slightly. Just to be closer to her, only a little closer. But enough. When the kiss ends this time, you sigh.

"We shouldn't," Jieun's whisper sounds so vulnerable, her mouth, too lonely for the words. "We should—" kiss again? "go back."

"I'm sorry, I—" Jieun cuts you off with a small kiss, a peck.

"Don't be." She keeps hold of your hand, leading you towards the path and pulling you gently downhill. "We should just get back."

~~~

It's on the porch of the house, where you stood just a couple of hours ago, staring at her, that she says, "Good night." And there's this look in her eye that screams the words 'I want to kiss you again'. Though you both know that this isn't the time or the place.

"Good night," you give her a smile. "Sleep well."

"You too." And then she's gone, Jieun and Soonshim slip in through the back door and you head to the front to get into your room. The emptiness of the room is a strange departure from the warmth of company you've felt all evening. And as you drop onto the bed, sleep does not come quick—it refuses.

Instead, as you toss and turn in the cool, crisp linen, you imagine Jieun's lips meeting your own again, and again. Soft and pliable, sweet and willing, as inviting as can be. Then you argue with yourself that it was an accident, just a product of the moment rather than anything deeper, but... not really. Not when it happens like this, not with her so eager, as eager as you were, in equal measure. And that has a price. The whole night, turning endlessly.

You wonder if she struggles just the same.

The morning rolls around and so does the bad news. There's someone completely unrecognisable helping prepare breakfast, a change that goes unaddressed by your hosts for what seems like the longest time. It's only when they join you at the table that they make the announcement, "Jieun has a concert, back in Seoul, she'll be returning tomorrow evening." Hyori pulls a chair and sits down at the table, pulling a full plate closer to her.

Sangsoon helps himself and settles next to Hyori, asking casually, "Did you and Jieun go for a walk yesterday?"

You pause, trying not to sound like a blushing teenager. "Uh, yes. Yes we did, it's very pretty out there, with some really nice views. Soonshim led us up a hill."

"Didn't see much of you afterwards," Hyori teases, "did we?"

"I was tired after we got back so I just crashed. Tough work walking those hills."

The two hosts glance at each other and chuckle. "Well, Soonshim will be happy, she loves walks. Thanks for looking after her."

You give a small, simple nod. "Of course."

For the next ten minutes, you pick at some of your food but feel so restless the entire time. By the time you stand up from the table, Sangsoon looks a bit surprised. "Somewhere to be?"

"Just want to use the bathroom," you say, with a hasty smile.

There, you stare in the mirror. And it hits you. Hard, right in the stomach, like a heavyweight boxer throwing a right hook, or a hammer kick from a martial artist. A surge of feeling that cuts through you and shatters any façade of composure. Of control. You're flustered. Nervous, even. Like an anxious teen in a school hall during prom.

It's an alien, almost nauseating, feeling, something like vertigo.

~~~

"Can I get you anything else?"

"No, that's everything." Jieun answers, before pulling closed the divider of her first-class pod, shielding herself from the prying eyes of those seated nearby. She places her headphones on and peels into her orange, holding a large section up to the light, before gently placing it in her mouth.

The flight is short to Seoul, but it's a lonely one—without him. She can still feel him though, the kiss that happened at the hilltop. And all the dread that comes with it. Jieun knows full well just how wrong it was, and yet she also knows just how right it felt. Normally, by now, all of her thoughts are on the performance ahead. All her little anxieties arise from the finer details and how she strives to perfect them. Now, though, is the exception.

The ride from the airport to Yonsei is a little different. Though she had to put on her best actress face in the airport, for all the fans and the cameras, but here, alone and safe, she's given the time and the space she needs, but it doesn't bring the relief she expected. Now her thoughts are just swirling, again. Swirling and storming and churning.

Her manager is talking, about this and that, all probably important—but she'll never know.

'It's just going to go down the same road again, another relationship that takes a backseat to my career.'

Jieun groans internally. 'He's such a nice person though.'

"Jieun?"

It catches her off guard. Her heart pounds in her chest, startled, not so much because she was called upon, but the direction it was in. "Huh?"

"So, what do you think?" the manager asks. "Are you even listening? This is what you wanted right?"

Jieun closes her eyes, bringing her index finger up and pinching the bridge of her nose, running her hands down the contours of her face, then forcing a small, tired grin on her lips, she mutters, "Yeah, sorry, I'm listening."

~~~

It's been a strange couple of days. You spent as much of it as you could away from the house. Out in Jeju doing the most random of things to take your mind away from her. Though that's pretty tough when you're walking the street and she's on poster after poster and then you dip into a convenience store only for it to be playing her music.

Coming back for lunch wasn't any better, with Sangsoon and Hyori often teasing or giving the odd hint here and there. You sat down, not able to enjoy the food properly and excused yourself when your appetite gave out on you.

That afternoon, Hyori sat on the porch and invited you to join her—quiet and away from everyone else.

"You must know it's not easy for someone in Jieun's position to do, to go around kissing anyone like that," she starts and she reaches for the drink, pouring it and handing the glass out to you, and you reach for it, staring down at the liquid and watching the ice cubes swim and then sink.

"She told you?"

"In a sense," Hyori laughs softly and pours the other glass, putting the jug aside and taking up her glass. She leans back on one hand against the wooden board and says, "So, what now, what do you intend to do?"

"Uh, about what?"

Hyori offers a smirk and says, "About her."

"I..." What can you really say here, apart from that you just want her, like probably a hundred thousand other men and women have wanted her since they've first laid their eyes on her. Instead, you sip at your glass.

"Nothing wrong with liking her," Hyori says casually, as if the statement itself isn't fraught with consequence.

"Doesn't matter," is what you offer. "I shouldn't, we're from different worlds."

"Mmmm, yes and no," Hyori sips on her drink. "Listen. People like Jieun, like me, the reality we live in isn't the reality we want. Well, it is, but it also isn't. Because we get what we want but never quite get all we want."

You narrow your gaze in confusion. "Sounds like a riddle."

"Think of it like this. When we're on TV or we're on a stage or at a photoshoot or whatever, it's like we're living in the clouds, are you with me?"

"I think so."

"Well being up in the clouds is amazing, you get to do great stuff, fun stuff. But there's always a danger of floating away. So there's the other half of our life, on the ground. It's what keeps us sane. Balanced."

"So you have this double life," you offer as an interpretation.

"It's not that drastic but, yes." Hyori swirls the contents of her glass, taking a quick sip to wet her mouth. "Don't mistake it though, the ground is the more important half, because, in that part, we meet the people who mean the most to us. But, listen to me, when you date someone like Jieun, you're dating that half of her life. The ground. The clouds are for her alone."

"So you have to let her live up in those clouds without you?"

"Did she tell you about her ex?"

"She said they didn't have the time to be together."

Hyori nods. "If she told you that, then you've confirmed it for me. She likes you. But, now you have to think, this past twenty-four hours, there's going to be a lot more of this. Sitting at home while she's performing in front of thousands, living in the clouds. You have to ask yourself, can you handle it? Are you willing to accept it? All the pros and cons."

There's nothing for a few moments, the pair of you sit there silently, before you mutter, "That's kind of hard," and Hyori laughs under her breath as she tilts her head and agrees.

"Yeah. That's why not every relationship survives. Not in this business. But I'm doing you the favour of warning you in advance."

"Thank you."

"Speak of the devil." The sound of a car draws closer until it stops. Some commotion arises and then slowly, she appears. In all her beauty and grace. Hair blowing softly in the breeze, her yellow jumper and skinny jeans hugging her hips perfectly, her beauty as sharp and clear and as immediate as ever. There's no way to take it all in with just one look, especially with the sun low on the horizon behind her. You're mesmerised, to say the least, and even more so as her shy smile reveals itself.

"Evening," Hyori stands, opening her arms for Jieun and wrapping her in a hug, kissing her on the cheek. They exchange some words you can't hear but you watch the movement of the mouths, the way the body moves. Then you turn back to your drink, pretending to watch the dregs swim at the bottom of the glass. You can feel her now, or at least smell the light fragrance, you don't need to turn, as a shadow descends on the side of your head.

"Hi."

"Hey," you say as you draw your eyes slowly up her body. "How was the concert?"

"Good, thank you." Her smile widens.

"You must be tired after all that," you follow, and she nods in agreement and glances to the far end of the veranda.

"And hungry. Will you come inside for dinner with me?" She's smiling now, an infectious, radiant smile, that grows.

"Of course."

You move indoors, you and her at the table. You use the conversation over dinner to ask her about the concert, and her life as a celebrity. From asking her how it feels to be up there singing to hearing stories about some of the craziest fans, the sorts of weird things they do and the lengths they'll go to.

"Some even claim to know me," she laughed, "and try and ask me questions or say certain things and act as though we've known each other for years."

"It sounds surreal," you say and Jieun leans in with a curious look.

"It's been days and you haven't asked about this before now, not at all, so what's got you so interested?" she teases.

"Well, I guess I just wondered what life is like up in the clouds."

Jieun narrows her eyes at you for a moment before chuckling a bit, and leaning in further and muttering, "Hyori. She spoke to you about this didn't she?"

"Just a little, yes. While you were gone."

"I knew it, she likes this little analogy." Jieun folds her arms, rests them on the table and stares right into your eyes, asking "What else did she say...?"

"Not a lot."

"Oh god." Jieun throws herself back against her chair, she brings her hands up to her mouth, with the sleeves of her jumper over her hands and looking like she wants to bury herself into the palms of her hands. "Ugh, that girl. What else did she say?"

"Really, not much else," you answer.

"Right." She sits forward again, not raising her eyes. "Listen, while I was away, I was thinking about what happened."

"And..."

"And," Jieun lets out a huge exhale, the stresses and fears seem to leave along with that breath. "She told you, and you haven't run away. Or at least, not yet. You're still here, we're here. Now. Just sitting, having a chat and eating some noodles."

"The noodles are really nice," you say and Jieun laughs.

"See, you make me laugh, and it makes me all confused, in the best way possible. And I know this isn't the time or place, but—"

"Yes, Jieun."

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"I'd really love to see where this takes us," you say as you rise from your seat, rounding the table without breaking eye contact. You gently take her hand.

Jieun looks a bit hesitant, stares at the ground and mutters under her breath, "Where does that road end, you know? Look at everything I'm asking, of you, I don't want you to get hurt because I may not be able to give enough."

"I get it Jieun, the ground and the clouds," you whisper as you guide her up from her seat to stand in front of you. "I'll be on the ground. Sometimes you'll be in the clouds."

Jieun collapses her cheek against your shoulder and releases a deep sigh. "Why are you so nice to me?" Jieun sniffles.

"Because you deserve it Jieun."

Her heart thumped so hard, so rapidly, and tears flooded her eyes, making the world wavy and foggy. She fights the tears. And she finds the warmth of you, she pushes her face hard into your chest, inhaling deeply, and feeling an inexhaustible source of strength flow through her, bolstering her. She presses her body into yours.

She reaches her head up and kisses you deeply. Your hands cup her cheeks and your tongues meet for the first time. She leans in, slipping her hands to your neck, and curling her fingers tightly. Her lips are so warm and soft, her whole body melts, and the two of you press against one another. A fire burns and every nerve thrills in anticipation. Her breathing increases as a raging fire churns within.

When the kiss breaks, you murmur against her lips, "Should we, go somewhere that isn't the kitchen?"

Jieun nods, her hands still firmly clutching the collar of your shirt. "The food can wait."

As the door to your room closes, you begin unbuttoning your shirt, the last of them dropping open as she leaps at you, her lips attacking your neck with soft, wet, urgent kisses as she clutches you like her life depends on it. And you have her back, reaching around and holding her, carrying her, stumbling through the dark and onto the bed. You hit the mattress, and your grip relaxes as she leans back and grabs the hem of her sweatshirt. Jieun lifts it, dragging it up her body until the garment is sent to the floor and there it lay, forgotten.

For a moment she seems hesitant, sitting above you. It's a strange mix of tension and passion, the way her fingers trace lines on your chest, and you sit in awe of this beauty above you. The urge to reach for her, to take her, becomes overwhelming, as your gaze trails up her tight, toned stomach, and lingering over her small chest, clothed in black and wrapped snug. You stare and she shivers at the intensity of that look and bites at the corner of her lip.

"This is okay?" Jieun asks softly.

"I'm here for it if you are," you tell her, reaching and cupping her breast in your hand, as though it belonged there. That sends a new chill through her.

"Okay." Jieun nods her head a little. The word shakes a little with a quiver of breath and she lowers her head to meet her lips on yours, softly brushing at first but gradually more insistent. Her tongue prods and finds yours, and she pushes you down by the shoulders, forcing herself to lie on top of you and hold you there. And the kiss seems endless.

You run a hand up the soft skin of her back, up the divot of her spine until your fingers come to her bra strap, and with a small break in the kiss, you murmur against her lips. "Can I?"

She kisses you while she nods. Your fingers search a little, finding the clasp, you tug, letting the bra slip. And, with one small gentle tug on her shoulders, the strap of the bra slips off and it's only her hand rushing up to cover her modesty that keeps it in place.

You wrap your arm around her and roll her over onto her back, and as she lay against the covers, you're over her, looking down at how she still holds her arm over her tits. "I want you to see all of me," she whispers.

"I want to see all of you."

And with that admission, her arm, drops slowly away, pulling the black bra with it and exposing those two perfect, beautifully formed tits. With the lightest, most delicate touch, you brush your thumb across one and feel it spring a little at your touch. The nipples are erect, Jieun leans and looks to the side as you bend down, taking one nipple into your mouth. You flit your tongue across the little pink pebble of flesh and watch Jieun's face.

The muscles around her eyes tighten, and she lets out the sexiest little whimper. The reaction makes you want her more and you begin swirling and caressing her tit with the soft, flat of your tongue, and sucking her nipple into the warm recesses of your mouth.

She cries out and gasps. "God that feels good..." her hands clawing through your hair and her fingernails scraping through. Her moan spurs you onwards as you plant a trail of kisses, switching between which sensitive nub you suck, tug and tease. "Don't stop," she pleads.

"Not when you taste so good."

"I can't believe we're... that you're here, with me."

Your hand finds hers, lacing the fingers into hers you smile, push her hand into the bedsheets and stare up into her glimmering eyes as you run your tongue once more around her nipple. "You're perfect Jieun, I can't believe I'm so lucky."

Jieun arches her back a little, closing her eyes and exhaling a breath. "Stop it, that's not true," she giggles in between whimpers, "stop it, you know it's not— oh g-god..."

You're moving your kisses up over her collarbone and to her neck, and settling your body down between her legs, resting between her thighs. Jieun clamps her legs tightly around you as you keep sucking and biting at her neck, nibbling ever so lightly on her ear. "And now," you whisper huskily, into her ear, "I have you pinned beneath me..."

"Oh, fuck, yes," Jieun squirms. She desperately pushes your shirt off your shoulders and then runs her hands over your body. "I like this feeling." She's pushing her hands between your stomachs, pulling open your jeans and pushing them down off your ass.

You return the favour, bringing her into a kiss and reaching to pull her tight jeans open. She lifts her hips to aid you, allowing you to slip them off her hips. You don't have a chance to pull them all the way off, too heavy in your kiss and grinding yourself between her legs.

You reach and pull at her and she breaks the kiss with a soft moan as she grabs your shoulder and shifts her hips. The movements press you into her a little more, and her head goes to the pillows behind her head, tilting back. The angle reveals the beautiful soft and slender curve of her neck and you go at it again, kissing and biting, nibbling and licking, running the tip of your tongue over the hot, smooth expanse and smiling as she wraps her arms and legs around you as tightly as her lips when you kissed her.

"I want you," she gasps. "I want you. Now."

You put an arm under her and pull her up until you're on your knees and she's straddling you. She reaches down, hands into your pants and takes your thick cock in her fist. That first touch. Her soft fingers are on your hardness. It's a rush that hits both of you and suddenly you're kissing again as Jieun awkwardly strokes your length, trying to tease you out.

You decide to make it easier and sit her on the bed, still kissing her intermittently as you stand and push your clothes to your ankles. Standing before Jieun, the most desirable woman you've ever been fortunate enough to touch, you suddenly feel a primal sense of arousal hit.

You lay her back again, and peel those jeans off her slender legs. Slowly down her thighs as they spill out of the denim, then all the way off, until she's in nothing but a pair of black panties, and you're stood over her, naked to the air. Jieun sits up to you and brushes your chest, feeling the shape of the muscles and kneeling back on her haunches, you take her mouth again, sliding your hands up her hips and feeling those supple breasts once more. "Jieun, you're so hot."

Jieun bites your lip, and throws her leg around you, drawing you down and gasps sharply as you find your cock grazing across the smooth expanse of her panties and press at her entrance, almost bursting with desire. Jieun pulls at your hips, urging you between them. She grunts with effort, biting at your neck. "You're everything I have ever wanted."

There's a pause that's filled only by your shared, short panting. This is where it happens. It's more than want and need. The quiet acknowledgement, the long silence, you stare into Jieun's eyes, and both of you nod your heads a fraction, agreeing without speaking a word. You push her panties to the side. Then the contact, the softness and the wetness of her opening as the tip of your cock pushes her apart.

"Oh, shit!" Jieun lets out the involuntary profanity as she claws at your back and moans into the crook of your neck.

It's amazing. Unbelievably, spectacularly, amazing. Her tightness stretches with only minimal effort, and you let out a strained breath.

"Oh my god," Jieun has her fingers clasping tightly to your shoulder and mouth open with pleasure. Her chest rises and falls rapidly as she writhes under you. "You feel amazing... holy shit," she curses.

"Jesus Jieun," you grunt as you sink down just that extra inch, enveloping your full length inside her. "You feel perfect, I could stay here forever."

Jieun does the best she can with that compliment, grinning through clenched teeth. "Thank you. I'm—" She cuts her own sentence short by gasping and reaching higher and taking a handful of your hair in her palm, her nails digging into your skull. "Do it." She orders you and the tone is coated in lust. "Please."

And so you do. Pull out to the sound of her sharp expectant inhale, and back in as she moans her lungs empty, the noises making it impossible to remain idle. Soon enough you have a rhythm of slow, measured thrusts, and are gasping in tune to her beautiful mews.

"God, you feel so damn good," Jieun manages, and she follows by adding, "A little harder, I love it."

It's like that for a few minutes. Jieun's pleasure is palpable with every movement of the bed springs and groans. Though it can't be any louder than the voice in your mind. This is actually happening. Fucking IU, of all people, is on her back beneath you, her beautiful body reacting to your every movement. She reaches for her breasts, rubbing them and pinching at the hardened points and begging, "More, please more," and you give.

Jieun brings her leg higher, arching her back and urging you further into her pussy, driving herself into you with equal force. This time her cry is louder, less controlled and broken by the beat of your bodies against each other, the sound of sex becoming a background harmony. Her feet stretch out behind you, her heels dig at the small of your back and her head falls back on the bed.

"I don't know how... how long I can..." Jieun breathes out. Her leg suddenly jerks and her entire body tenses. "Oh, shit."

You know what's coming, that doesn't make the feeling of her tightening around you any less shocking. She's shivering, gasping for breath and squeezing her eyes tightly, her body growing taut like a string pulled between fists.

"Fuck, Jieun, are you gonna—"

"Yes. Yes." Her entire body convulses. Her fingernails ripping lines up your back, Jieun arches from the bed, a sharp keening whimper from between her lips, followed by a series of high-pitched, short cries.

You're falling into the sheets beside her and pulling her on top of you. Seamlessly you move together, and she's riding you now, throwing her head back. You're lying there and she's a sight to behold. Her petite frame rolls and her toned, lithe muscles shift beneath her smooth skin. Every motion carries her hips as she fucks you.

Her breasts rise and fall, her hands flatten themselves on your chest as she holds herself up, bouncing herself on your cock with insistent determination. Jieun slides her palms upward, bringing them to your shoulders and lowering her chest, you reach to cup her tits, squeezing firmly and a sparkle glimmers in her eyes.

"You're so hard," Jieun purrs.

"You look so good on me, feel it too."

A smile flashes across her lips and the muscles clench,. You drag your hands across the perfect curves, feeling her sides, her ass, sliding back to take two, firm handfuls, pulling her into every movement. Your arms and legs beginning to tingle with your release, and you're losing all feeling other than her silken embrace.

Then you see her grimace and twist her body, breaking again for you. She falls against you and grinds out her orgasm. She quivers over you like a leaf in the wind. You hold her hips steady and stroke her skin as she returns from her high.

"Sorry," she moans a drawn-out apology. "Wanted you to cum, but, I can't..."

You hold her, rising from the bed, "Don't worry, Jieun, I've got this." You lift her and place her onto her side, thighs together, knees together, you push them up to meet her chest. Her perfect ass and thighs are on show, begging for you to slip back inside. She twists her body to watch you lean over her and push her knees into the bed.

You thrust into her, slipping under that one ass cheek, past those moist panties and into her pussy again. Jieun moans aloud again, and the sight of your cock slipping into her, the feel, is mesmerising. Jieun squeals a note.

The feeling, after only a few short thrusts, builds rapidly. And while a part of you wishes to hold back for her, make her cum over and over, she's far too sexy to deny yourself your sole need. Jieun moans and clenches again then cries out, "Please!" Her eyes watching you drive in deeper. And you lose it. The pressure breaks within, you bask in the sights, sounds, and feelings, and let it overwhelm you. "Inside, it's safe."

You spasm and with a deep thrust into her, your cum pours. Thick. Heavy, plentiful spurts as you cling to her trembling body. A final, ragged cry slips past your lips. Energy drained from you, into her, and you near-collapse against her sweat-kissed body.

You slip out of her, collapsing behind her and spooning her trembling body close, you drop kisses across the soft surface of her bare shoulder and take a tight grip on her small, perky tits. She whispers, "That was amazing."

"Tell me about it. The best."

She rolls her head and glances at you. "No, I mean, really, thank you. You were..." she sighs dreamily. "I didn't think it was possible to feel like that."

"We fit well, Jieun," you tell her softly. "There's no need to ever thank me. You really are special."

"Saying things like that," she sobs lightly. "You better be careful or you're going to mean a lot to me."

Your breathing seems loud in the sudden quiet, and you say, "I'd like that Jieun, to matter to you. Being important to you. It'd make me happy."

She is silent for a long moment, staring straight ahead. A single, happy tear rolls from her eye, onto the bed, and then sleep takes over. It is like a force sweeping you into the deepest darkness. It seems to happen between one breath and the next. One moment you're lying next to the most beautiful woman in the world, in the most euphoric, blissful post-coital state. In the next, your eyes blink open, and you're sprawled on your back, alone in the bed.

Her perfume hangs faintly in the air. Like a half-forgotten dream. An unintelligible whisper in the corner of your ear. "Goodnight," she had murmured at some point, in that instant between slumber and consciousness. But as your eyes scan around, her absence, her presence, seems like a dream. Like a mirage. As if she's always been this transient figure in your life. You fall into the pillow.

Then, just as sleep begins its second embrace, there's a knock at the door. There's a pause before a quiet voice speaks, "You awake?"

You sit up in a rush. "Come in," you reply, and Hyori enters.

She cuts right to the chase, as seems to be her way. "Last night, did you two? Wait, don't answer. I can feel it. You did."

"We did."

She walks closes the door firmly behind her, ensuring privacy. "I knew it as soon as she started acting shy this morning. I swear sex is the only thing that makes her shy. Funny little mannerism." Hyori takes a deep breath. "But listen, and listen close, okay?"

You nod for her to go ahead, but instead of going on, she sits down, gathering her thoughts.

She looks at you for a long time and says, "If this, whatever this is, is going to continue, you need to be prepared. It's going to be a mess. You need to hide it, and I mean really hide it, from everyone. Think how nuts the press will go."

You open your mouth to talk but she raises a finger.

"Hear me out. You have to remember that. This can't be normal, it will probably never be normal. That girl is special and this whole country knows it. There will always be cameras. And there will be times when you miss her because she's away. Sometimes for days or weeks and it's not the end of the world, because she has her job, and her fans depend on it. And as I'm sure you saw at dinner the other night, she does too, she loves her career."

Hyori sighs and rubs her forehead. "I know this seems a lot. You have known each other barely a week and I'm piling this onto you, but you need to know what you're getting into."

You smile. "I get it."

"You don't. Trust me. Not until you've lived it. Look, Jieun's an amazing girl. I like you, she likes you, a lot. I think you can make this work." She takes a big breath and says, "Welcome to this weird fucking world."

You chuckle quietly and nod in thanks.

"Now, if you're wondering where she has gone, she's out picking some flowers for the side dishes for later. They're recording something for the show right now but you can go out and join her in ten minutes, if you like?"

"That'd be great."

Hyori leaves and true to her word, when you venture downstairs and out onto the garden. Jieun's knelt along the rows. Her hair blows in a gentle breeze, and with the flowerbeds just in front, she is a blessed sight for tired eyes.

You go to her and ask, "Working hard?"

"Hey, you woke up," she beams at you.

"Had a chat with Hyori, too."

"Was it alright?" Jieun's face turns pale and worried, and her voice drops to a whisper. "She didn't try to get in your head, right?"

"It was fine, Jieun, she did give me the talk, though. A warning and a blessing, I think."

"Any regrets?" Jieun asks, timidly.

"What? No. God no. None at all. Actually, the only thought I had was if you would like to eat alone tonight? Just you and me, and then maybe we can go on another walk together, I enjoyed that."

"I'd love that," she says, her voice shaky, before a warm smile grows on her face.

"So, can I help you with the flowers?"

#kinktember #kpop smut #IU smut #Lee Jieun smut #kpop fanfic #male reader #m reader #smut #IU x reader #mirror

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qingxin-dream · 2 years ago

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“Moonlight Showing”

summary | lyney whisks you away after his performance, wanting to make the most of his last night with his secret lover for awhile. (art credits: @/kiyonvmi on twitter).

warnings | profanity, smut [18+, MDNI], female-bodied reader, exhibitionism/public sex (creampie), a sprinkle of dominance, breeding, honestly fairly vanilla otherwise bc lyney is such a sweetheart, lyney speaks a little french

genre | smut

word count | 1.6k

pairing | lyney x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Long after the crowd had dispersed from the picturesque Opera Epiclese at the close of Lyney and Lynette’s show, the beautiful gardens lie vacant under the moon’s silvery gaze. All the guests and staff had long taken the aqua-bus back to the Court of Fontaine to return home. There was not a soul in sight at this late hour.

However, even as the city sleeps, Coppelius and Coppelia—a mechanical wonder gifted to the Opera by the Fontaine Research Institute—continue their romantic dance in the courtyard. They never failed to captivate any audience as the reflective metal of the star-crossed lovers glimmered under sun or moon, rain or shine.

Atop the many steps leading down to the outdoor stage is a hand-carved throne of stone hidden behind the cypress trees encircling the scene. From afar perhaps it appears that there are indeed still two people lingering from the night’s magical performance, sitting together to admire the lovely dance.

To any innocent passersby, the sight was undoubtedly endearing and romantic. There’s nothing quite like the rush of young love. It was a good thing no one was here to bear witness; and even better that your lover was so cunning and clever, choosing such a secluded spot to have you in his lap.

Lyney’s gloved hands gripped the curve of your waist firmly, the pads of his fingertips digging into your soft flesh as he sinks your hips back down onto his hardened cock with a soft grunt of pleasure. You were forced to hold onto the cool armrests of the throne to keep yourself steady, the unexpectedly cold surface causing your walls to spasm and flutter around him. Groaning lewdly in your ear, Lyney was practically hypnotized by the way the white ring of your essence coated the base of his cock.

Your poor little legs were shaking. You couldn’t count how many times Lyney had made you cum, and yet he was utterly insatiable tonight. The erotic mixture of your fluids lubricated every inch of cock nicely. His smug, seductive laughter was a beautiful soft melody in your ears as the magician teased the tip of his length at your entrance, watching the nuances of your orgasmic expression once more.

With the ends of your sexy little red dress lifted up in his right fist, his other hand smacked your ass loudly. “You wore this on purpose, didn’t you, mon amour?”

A bratty whine rumbled in your throat as he forced you to continue fucking yourself on his throbbing length. You couldn’t possibly muster up a coherent response in your cockdrunk state. Cute little pants adorned the sound of your sex slapping onto his pelvis lightly smeared with your juices.

Lyney yanked you back by the hip to bury his needy cock into you, abruptly pulling the front of your dress down so your breasts spilled out into the open air. He loved feeling the enticing, malleable flesh between his fingers, occasionally pinching your adorable nipples to earn a sweet little moan out of you.

“Oh, fuck,” he murmured from behind, taking his thumb under the string of your lacy thong to get an unobstructed view of how your slutty hole gripped and swallowed his cock over and over. Lyney’s voice was deep and honeyed, enough to have you whimpering under your breath in anticipation. “Don’t you cream on my tights now. You’ve been such a good girl for me tonight, (Y/N).”

“Mm, mhmm,” you nod obediently, focusing intensely on the sensation of his cock continuously stretching your walls in the most delicious rhythm. You swear he must have memorized the exact spot that drove you wild. “Y-you fuck me… so good…”

“Mon amour, please, you’re doing all the work,” Lyney’s voice resounds lowly into the shell of your ear, smug and soft as velvet. He leans into your neck, nibbling at your sensitive skin. A seductive giggle warms your shoulder and sends shivers prickling down your spine. “Why don’t you let me work my magic, hm?”

You settle yourself completely onto his pretty cock, resting your back gently against his chest. Lyney continues to encourage you with sweet nothings, distracting you with his words of praise while gloved fingers cup underneath your plush thighs and spread your legs. He gently guides your legs apart to set your calves onto the cool armrests on either side of you.

You hear him draw in a sharp breath as your spongy walls suddenly tighten again. “Are you trying to milk me dry, mon cœur?”

“I’m sorry. C-can’t help it,” you mumble, practically a whimper as this position has your cunt clenching down and damn near feeling every curve and contour as Lyney’s cock angles into you from underneath.

He smirked, presenting the pink petals of your wet flower long decorated in cum to the empty gardens of the Opera Epiclese. Though it was just the two of you and the mechanical dancers below, the mere thought of anyone catching a glimpse of how his thick cock split you open was beyond thrilling to Lyney. Call it a showman’s pride in his performance.

And for Archon’s sake, every little bit of movement had you rolling your head back with a litany of soft-spoken profanities and prayers leaving your lips. Yet you found yourself curious, leaning forward slightly, mesmerized by the way he stuffed you nice and tight.

Lyney chuckled, always one to study and revel in his audience’s wonder, and even more so with his secret lover. He drank you in like fine wine, pupils dilating and swirling with endless pool of desire as you struggled to take him like this.

“Give me your fingers, ma chérie,” he asks, though his tone is surprisingly firm. It wasn’t really a question. You reached around your shoulder to offer him a shaky hand, your breath catching as something hot and wet envelopes your index and middle finger. “Touch yourself.”

Heat flushed your cheeks as Lyney’s warm saliva drips from your digits. Parting your folds, you liberally massaged in circles around your clit, already a bit swollen and puffy from your previous lovemaking sessions on the throne. You curse under your breath between moans, reaching further down to trace your fingers at the bottom of his cock and marvel at the way he disappears inside of you.

The magician groans faintly, the brush of your fingers leaving him extra sensitive as you grind your hips into him. His words come out as a desperate whisper in the night air, a plea only your delicate ears are privy to. “H-hah, fuck, it’s so perfect… ‘n’ made for me.”

Lyney’s hands trail down your sides lovingly, making sure you’re well adjusted to his length in this unique position. In the wake of his fleeting touch, he plants featherlight kisses wherever possible on your spine. He presses a final chaste kiss on your shoulder blade before leaning back, cupping the bottom of your thighs to support you.

“Call my name, mon cœur, that’s all I ask,” he groans, thrusting his cock fully into your dripping hole. You cry out, gasping as his tip reaches the deepest part of you and rubs against every lovely ridge of your walls. Lyney hushes your loud moan, not to deter you but rather to comfort you.

Caressing the innermost parts of your thigh, the magician effortlessly holds you from underneath to help you relax around his cock. He can see your back muscles loosen up, and he whispers to you, “Look up—look at the moon—she’s our spotlight, yeah?”

“Keep your pretty eyes on the heavens. I promise I’ll take you there,” Lyney coos, the timbre of his voice laced with longing. You were hopelessly ensnared in his web of passion and temptation, more than willing to submit to his saccharine words and whims. He smiled, praising you as your eyes drifted up to the full moon. “Je t'aime.”

Just as your reply was on the tip of your tongue, the magician squeezed the bottom of your thighs and finally bucked his hips up ruthlessly into your cunt. Despite how much Lyney prepared you for this position, he still stole your breath away. It was all you could do to meet the intensity of his thrusts. “L-Lyney…! Oh my god, fuck… keep going, p-please…”

Your orgasm was already stirring in the depths of your pelvis with Lyney pounding against your G-spot repeatedly without fail. His grip on the flesh of your hips became possessive, a low growl following his rapid thrusts. “Did I say to stop touching yourself? I want you a fucking mess on my cock.”

Apologies weren’t what he wanted. This was the final act of the night before you were to be separated for Archons knows how long. Lyney wasn’t about to waste this precious time without giving you the moon, the stars, and the whole damn universe—rocketing you to your climax after you fingers messily flitted across your clit.

“Lyney! I’m cumming, a-ah!” you nearly screamed in pure ecstasy and amazement, your legs quaking and threatening to collapse onto him. Waves upon waves of pleasure wash over you. You couldn’t believe how he relentlessly fucked your release into your sopping pussy, utterly blissed out and wishing for his seed like a whore.

Coaching you through your strongest orgasm yet, he exhales heavily and clutches you tightly, “That’s it, that’s it. Yeah… Sing for me, mon amour. You feel so, so good.”

Just as your climax reached its crescendo, Lyney’s cock twitched inside you and dribbled cum out of your abused hole when he pulled out. His fingers were buried into your skin, certainly enough to leave a bruise on your hips in the morning. Even though the magician was exhausted after the night’s worth of lovemaking, he spun you around and captured your lips softly—wanting to taste your post-orgasmic pants for air.

“It’s a shame,” Lyney chuckled warmly into your mouth, seemingly unable to detach himself from your decadent lips. “I really liked this dress on you.”

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated. my masterlist.

#not me literally taking pics of lyney at this spot and being like ‘hmm this would be a good spot to fuck’ lmao #[opulent dreams].✿#[dreams of delusion].✿#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin lyney #lyney x reader #lyney smut

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roosterforme · 11 months ago

Text

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 13 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: One night with Bradley leaves you wanting more of him in every way, and he's more than willing to make sure you're satisfied. But there shouldn't have been any other interruptions. Especially not when your newly established boyfriend was so willing to talk about the future.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, language, unprotected sex, oral sex, smut, Bradley in love, 18+

Length: 3300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

You fell asleep with Bradley's big arm wrapped around you and the front of his naked body pressed to the back of yours. He stroked your skin and whispered the sweetest things next to your ear. Like how he was going to cook breakfast for you in the morning, and how he never wanted this weekend to end. Like how he had been falling for you for months.

You were worn out from sex in his bed and sex in the shower, and you yawned as you said, "I can't believe I just met my boyfriend a week ago."

He snorted softly and kissed the shell of your ear. "We've covered a lot of ground during that week. And we met way before that, Gorgeous. I knew you were perfect well before last Friday."

Bradley was too much, and all you could do was succumb to the warmth of his body all over yours as you dozed. You never slept this well, but especially not over the past few months. You'd found yourself always a little bit worried about Bradley's deployment when he was gone, and you were constantly wondering when you'd hear from him again. But right now, your body seemed to realize you were allowed to relax completely since he was with you. When you woke, it was to find the early morning sun shining through the curtains into the bedroom you already felt comfortable in after just a short time.

"Bradley," you murmured, his arm heavy against you. Then it tightened as he pulled you closer, and you smiled when your back met his chest. But you gasped softly when you felt his erection press against your thigh.

"Morning, Baby," he whispered in a deep rasp that left you seeing stars. His fingers were tracing the valley between your bare breasts, and his lips found your shoulder. "How'd you sleep?"

You needed to contain yourself. You'd already had him twice last night. You shouldn't be feeling like you needed him every waking minute all day long. But you did. "So good," you replied, and it came out as a soft moan that left his fingers trailing down your belly as you squeezed your thighs together in anticipation of his exploratory touch everywhere.

When you rubbed your leg back against his cock, you were rewarded with a grunt. When you did it again, he asked, "Will you let me taste you?"

The haze of sleep was still clouding your mind as he skimmed his fingers lower and lower. He'd already had his tongue in your mouth and all over your skin. He tasted you last night. But when he tucked his big hand between your thighs and cupped your pussy, tracing little shapes as he awaited an answer, you realized what he meant. And you realized how badly you wanted his mouth where his fingers were.

You turned your head back until you met his brown eyes. His cheeks were pink, his hair was a mess, and his lips were parted as he raised his eyebrow. "Yes," you whispered, and he was in motion. You rolled onto your back with a giggle and let your legs part, but he pushed them open wider with his hips as he settled on top of you.

"I'll bet you taste as sweet as you kiss," he murmured before letting his lips skim along yours. "Like fucking sugar."

Just when you tried to deepen the kiss, he pulled away, an excited expression on his face as he started to move down your body. A chill ran through you as your warm skin was exposed to the air, and Bradley took the time to nip at your breasts and belly before he was gently sucking on your inner thigh. Your pussy was spread for him as he eased your legs even further apart, and you let your fingers tangle in his hair as he said, "I have an idea. Something I've wanted to do for weeks."

"Yes," you whined as he kissed your clit softly.

"I didn't even tell you what I'm going to do," he replied, nuzzling his nose against you as he stroked your thighs with his fingers.

"I don't care," you said, back already arching slightly as you tugged on his hair. "I want you to do it."

He licked one long stripe through your pussy, moaning as he tasted you. "Holy hell. So fucking sweet." His mouth found your clit, and you squealed as he sucked until your nipples were furled and your heels were digging into his bed. When he released you, he looked up your body, met your eyes and said, "I want to make sure my pretty teacher knows her ABCs."

"What?" you gasped, head already spinning, but then he grinned a bit devilishly as he rubbed his stubbled cheek against your inner thigh. "I know my ABCs," you promised.

"We'll see," he replied. "There will be a quiz."

Bradley's big hands gripped your thighs, and his tongue swiped the letter A up and down and across your pussy. "Bradley!" you cried out as he kissed your clit softly and almost soothingly after making your hips buck.

"Next is B, for Bradley's," he rasped, and your belly clenched with desire as he drew the letter B with the tip of his tongue. Once again, he punctuated the letter with a soft kiss, and you had to grasp at his bedding to keep yourself as still as possible. His shoulders were broad and digging into your thighs, and he was smiling as you whimpered when he drew a smooth letter C.

"Oh fuck me," you whined, convinced you were dripping all over his sheets with need as he drew a D and an E.

"We can fuck in a minute," he replied, clearly unhurried as he drew a perfect F, G, H. When you started bucking, he took a break to kiss along your thighs and let his hands trail to your knees.

The fact that you weren't even slightly self conscious as you demanded, "More," made you feel incredible, and you dug your fingers into his hair again. I, J, K, L and M were written with his tongue in such rapid succession, you were panting. "More." N, O, P, Q and R made you clench around nothing as your back arched and you stared at his headboard. You were trying to stay in control, but your orgasm was building with S, T and U.

Your thighs were starting to tighten around his head, and he had to coax them further apart, giving you a little break as his nose grazed your clit. As soon as you relaxed your legs, you heard him murmur, "Good girl," before he flicked the letter V down to your opening and back up. The W had his tongue back on your clit, and his X and Y gave you a small reprieve before he traced the letter Z all through your pussy until you were shaking with need.

"Fuck." You were pleading with him as he brought his big body back above yours, bracing himself with his biceps as his heavy cock rested against your soaking, needy pussy.

He kissed your neck and your ear lazily as he whispered, "Quiz time. What was the letter B for?"

You sighed as he started to push his tip inside you. "Bradley's," you managed before he took your breath away with a deep thrust and a thumb to your clit. You came almost immediately from the fullness and the direct stimulation, and he devoured your mouth as your shaking hands found his shoulders. His thrusting was fluid and delicious just like his mouth had been, but now his tongue was tangled with yours. You just held on as tight as you could as you whined his name shamelessly.

"I want to cum inside you again," he grunted. "Please."

"Yes," you immediately agreed, clenching around his cock as you thought about the mess he'd made last night.

As the rush of your pleasure started to recede, you watched his handsome features while he got closer and closer to his own orgasm, his eyes fixed on your face. When you brought your hand up to cup his cheek and touch his scars, he growled your name and made a mess of you all over again.

---------------------------

Bradley just had arguably the best night in recent memory. Or maybe ever. Now he had you in his kitchen at 9:00, and you were wearing nothing but his sweatshirt and his cum while you looked in the refrigerator for breakfast options. He stepped up behind you and wrapped one arm around your waist and let his chin rest on your shoulder. As you poked around at the gallon of milk and the carton of eggs, he murmured, "Want me to make you French toast and coffee, Gorgeous?"

"Absolutely," you practically moaned, pulling both items out and setting them on the counter. He worked around you, reaching down a baking dish and cinnamon while he stood behind you, occasionally kissing your ear while you dipped slices of raisin bread into the concoction he whipped up.

He was about to turn on the stove when you spun to face him and wrapped your arms around his neck. His sweatshirt rode up your body, and he let his hands rest on your bare ass as he grinned. "So do you want to hang out here again next weekend or up at your place?" he asked.

You made him feel confident, and he squeezed his fingers into your warm flesh as you laughed and buried your face against his neck. Your soft groan was followed by, "I already want so much more."

He was about to tell you that you already had him wrapped around your fingers when you went stiff in his arms. Bradley heard a key in his front door as you pulled away from him, and his head tipped back in frustration at the surprised look on your face. You were tugging his shirt lower on your thighs and clearly panicking as you looked toward the living room, and then your face went stony.

"It's not what you think, Baby," he promised when he caught sight of the intruder who was standing just inside his house in her matching hot pink spandex shorts and sports bra, spinning her copy of his house key around on her finger.

"How many fucking ex-girlfriends do you have, Bradley?" you asked, voice shaking as you stared at Natasha Trace. He could practically hear the tears in your words even though your sentence made him want to laugh.

"I am most certainly not his ex-girlfriend," Natasha replied, clearly as appalled as he was by the mere suggestion.

"Who is she?" you asked quietly as soon as you were focused on him, your back to the front door. "Don't lie to me."

"I wouldn't," he insisted, and you let him pull you closer as he said, "That's my best friend, Natasha. We usually go for early runs together before it gets too hot out when neither of us are deployed."

"Oh," you gasped softly. "She's the friend you had steaks and beers with last Sunday?"

"Yes. I've been friends with her for thirteen years. There's nothing going on." Bradley could appreciate that Nat was objectively very pretty, but he'd rather starve for a week than have to see her with less clothing than she had on right now. He kissed your forehead before he looked at his friend and said, "Nat, this is my girlfriend. She's going to be around here a lot. So maybe text before you use your key?"

But now you and she were looking at each other curiously as your hand drifted down his bare arm where he was standing in his favorite pair of gym shorts. You laced your fingers with his as Nat said, "I knew she looked familiar when you showed me her picture!"

"You're so familiar, too," you replied before looking up at him. "You showed your best friend my picture?"

Nat snorted with laughter. "He had to swipe through an entire folder to find one that wasn't personal." You buried your face in your free hand even as you laughed, and then Nat said, "But he could have just showed me the one that I took of you on the beach!"

When you looked at her again, your lips parted in surprise. "It's you! Oh my goodness, Bradley! Natasha took my sunset photo for me! The one I sent to you when you were deployed."

He knew that photo well, and something about this just felt right. "Prettiest thing I'd ever seen before I saw you in person."

"I guess it worked," Nat said with a smile, still twirling the key. "When I took it, you did say it was for the hot guy you hoped was going to ask you out for dinner."

"He asked me out for dinner and then some," you said, dropping his hand and taking a step closer to her. "I'm really sorry if I came across as rude, but his horrible ex, Vanessa, knocked on his door after I got here yesterday. I just thought I was going to have to fight someone for a second here."

Nat waved her hand letting you know all was forgiven, but her voice was snippy as she looked at Bradley and asked, "What the hell did Vanessa want? I sent her and her goddamn cup packing months ago."

He was about to respond when you said, "She was awful. She was so mean to him, and then she acted like she wanted to sleep with him, and then she was mean to him again!"

Nat's eyes narrowed. "I'm sure she took one look at you and got so jealous. You're lovely, and from what Bradley has told me, he's falling in love with you."

He choked on the air he was inhaling as he reached for you. Now you had a dreamy look on your face as Nat smirked at him. "Are you sufficiently convinced I'm not being catfished? Can you leave now?" he hissed. He wanted to tell you those words himself. He was thinking about doing it over French toast and coffee before Nat showed up.

She basically ignored him as she asked you, "Are you sleeping over again? I won't bother stopping to get him for a run tomorrow morning if you are."

You glanced up at him and bit your lip. "I mean, I was certainly hoping to sleep over again."

"She's sleeping over again," Bradley confirmed, kissing your forehead.

"Okay, I'm sleeping over again. But," you added, turning back toward his friend and tugging his sweatshirt lower on your thighs, "You should definitely come by again tomorrow. I'll have him ready for a run at 9:00. I don't mind sparing him for a bit while I lounge in bed."

Nat smiled and started to back towards the door. "Sounds good. I'll be back tomorrow, and I'll even take a nice picture of him for you when he's all sweaty and looks like a mess. Also, we should get coffee sometime. Get my number from Rooster?"

"Will do," you said, waving to her as she vanished back outside, shutting the door behind her. You jumped into his arms and buried your face in his chest. "I'm so embarrassed that I met your best friend without pants on."

Bradley burst into laughter as he started to lead you back into the kitchen. "I'm sure that didn't faze her one bit. And I swear I don't have any other recent ex-girlfriends or any other best friends or anyone else who should interrupt us while I make you French toast."

"And coffee."

"And coffee. And anything you want."

--------------------------

Once you had a belly full of Bradley's homemade breakfast and coffee that he tried his best to replicate from your favorite Starbucks drink, you ended up on his couch. But this time you were on your back, and you couldn't stop laughing as he tried to join you comfortably. "I'll buy a bigger couch," he grumbled, wedging his knee between the cushions and bracing himself with his hands so he didn't squish you.

"No. You can't. This is my favorite thing ever." The sweatshirt was pushed up above your belly button now, and the fabric of his gym shorts was soft against your slick core as you moved your leg to make more room for him.

"I can't say I'm not loving it too," he murmured, kissing you. "I still can't believe you're here. I can't believe I blindly got mail from the woman of my dreams."

You were down bad. You were down horrendous. You were never going to be able to get back up after Bradley Bradshaw. His skin was warm and smelled so good as he kissed you everywhere and told you how much he liked every inch of you inside and out. His fingers were laced with yours, and he nearly fell on the floor as you nudged his ribs with your knee. You laughed at the look of surprise on his face as he caught himself. "Let's go back to your bed," you whispered. "I'm going to need a little more room to do what I want right now, but we can come back out here later to snuggle."

"Shit." He got to his feet and helped you up. "Let's do it."

The two of you spent the day between his bed, his couch, and the little patio table out back. You never really stopped touching him, and you and he never really stopped talking. "I'll come back here next weekend," you promised him as you sat on his lap outside and watched the sunset.

"But maybe I can spend a night at your place during the week," he mused.

"Sure, but your house is so much nicer than my apartment."

"I'm glad you think so, Gorgeous. There's plenty of room for you here."

It was too easy to imagine, so you tried not to, but living here would be incredible. You'd be with Bradley all the time, and then when he was deployed, you could take care of everything so he didn't have to worry about it. This would be the easiest fantasy to get lost in if you let yourself, and the implications left your skin tingling as you kissed him. The sky grew darker around you as his big hand found your thigh like it belonged there.

"You should really start thinking about what you want for breakfast tomorrow," he muttered, inching his hand up as your forehead rested against his. "And let me know which day I can visit your classroom again, because I think I'd like to stay over at your place afterwards. It would make the most sense."

"God, you're too much, Bradley." You were going to melt if he kept this up. "Any day is good except for Thursday, because my kids have gym and library."

"I can work with that." His hand went higher, making you even crazier for him in the cool dusk air. "You think you need another ABC refresher? I could use a snack."

Your cheeks heated with need even as you agreed and led him inside to his bedroom. "You're always hungry, aren't you?"

"For you," he insisted.

Later, when the two of you were a pile of tangled up limbs, and your skin was slick with sweat, Bradley collected you against him. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat started lulling you to sleep as your exhausted body relaxed completely against his. Your eyes were closed, and you were just starting to doze when Bradley's arm tightened gently around you. His voice was deep and sure, right next to your ear, and you smiled as he said, "I love you, my Gorgeous pen pal."

------------------------------

Well, he said it. He said it, and now I'm melting even more for him. A mid-week sleep over already? I don't think I can help myself, but that morning commute might be brutal. Only one way to find out. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls and @daggerspare-standingby (for the ABCs!)

PART 14

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@nessjo

@trickphotography2

@lyn-js

@marve2014

@furiousladyking

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selfindulgenceisthekey · 1 month ago

Note

i would love to see the readers relationship with the other members of the crew before her running away to see some platonic yan strawhats in action and to establish the readers personality/charater traits

oooo I love this ask! this ended up both longer and shorter than anticipated, and I fear it doesn't quite hit what I was going for, but I hope you enjoy this <3

The warmth of her hands holding yours made you all too aware that you couldn’t recall the last time someone had done something like this for you. She was meticulous, tongue poking out ever so slightly as she focused, each brush stroke done with percision.

“And done,” She sat back, a proud smile on her face, as you brought your hand up to inspect your nails.

Four of the five nails on each of your hands had been painted a dark blue, coated in something that made them shine in the sunlight. Your pinky nails, however, were painted a fiery orange.

“Now don’t move your hands around too much,” She instructed, shifting so she could begin painting her own nails, “I don’t want you messing up all my hard work.”

You gingerly laid your hands down, palms flat against your thighs. “They look cute.”

She snorted, eyes never straying from her hands, “Of course they do, I’m an expert, I’ll have you know. Even managed to paint Zoro’s nails one night when he was asleep.”

You couldn’t help but snort at the image of Nami sneaking her way near a sleeping Zoro, quietly and slowly painting each of his nails while he snored. “What color did you choose?”

“Every color I had,” She paused her movements, looking up at you with a smug look, “His hands look like he dipped them in a rainbow for a week.”

“He just let you get away with it?”

She waved your question off almost lazily, “He acts like he’s some tough macho-guy, but he’s a real big softy for the crew. He started to yell at me, but then Chopper saw them and got excited, and then Luffy and then Usopp, and he just accepted his fate.”

She was far quicker doing her own nails than she had been with yours, already on her second hand as she told you the story.

“You could start a side job,” You suggested, half-joking, “Imagine how many people would pay to have their nails done by Cat Burglar Nami?”

“Ooh,” There were stars in her eyes as she considered the thought, “I could charge people a shit ton.”

A startled laugh escaped you, and you tried to smother it while also doing your best not to smudge your nails. “You’d be painting nails while running away from the marines!”

“I could do their nails too,” She shrugged, “Though they’d be fined a lot more than your average person.”

It was comfortable sitting on the deck with her. The sun was warm on your skin, the breeze was cool, the taste of salt lingered not uncomfortably. You could hear the rest of the crew in different areas, Zoro was at a distance, arms crossed as he napped in a sunny spot, Chopper curled up in his lap.

Sanji was up in the galley, the scent of lunch wafting through the air. God how you wished you could get used to this. This type of life is one you had only dreamed of, and you’d store moments like these to dream of later.

“Ta-da!”

Nami held her hands up, nails facing you. Four of her five nails were painted that same fiery orange, while her pinkies were the same shade of blue on your nails. Careful not to smudge either of your nails, she wrapped one of her pinkies around your own.

“See, we’re matching now,” She grinned, and you couldn’t help but echo the look back, “So whenever we go out people know we’re together.”

“Here, try this,” A spoon was directly in front of your face, barely an inch away from your lips.

It smelled amazing, and you didn’t even have to question before you wrapped your lips around the utensil. Somehow, it tasted even better than it smelled.

“It’s amazing, as always, though.”

Sanji grinned, eye nearly sparkling as he all but twirled around in his kitchen, “Thank you, mon cœur. I’m always grateful for your input!”

You laughed, his theatrical actions never failed to entertain you, and you slightly suspect he dialed them up to make you laugh.

“Not much input needed, your food always tastes amazing.”

“Keep feeding into his ego and his head’ll get bigger than it already is.” The shift on Sanji’s face was immediate, and despite your inner turmoil regarding your feelings for the crew’s first mate, you couldn’t help but laugh as Sanji turned towards the swordsman.

“Shut it, mosshead! What are you even doing in here anyways? Thought you were out there, photosynthesizing with your grass brothers.”

Zoro’s face scrunched up, both of them doing great at riling each other up within a matter of seconds. You stayed seated on the bar stool you’d been on, watching as the two got in each others face.

“None of your business, curly brows.”

“It is my business, it’s my kitchen!”

The pot on the stove top began bubbling as the two bickered, and your attention turned to the stew. Do you turn the stove off? Was it supposed to be bubbling?

“Uh, Sanji—”

“You don’t get final say in who comes in and out of here, waiter.”

“I do get final say, green haired idiot!”

“Sanji,” You scooted off the stool, moving over to the stove, feeling mildly panicked as you twisted the knob lowering the heat, “Sanji!”

He turned, the anger melting off so quickly it was hard to imagine it had been there, “Yes, my dear?”

“Dinner’s bubbling.”

“Dinner’s bub— Oh!” He rushed over, his momentary feud with Zoro forgotten as he gently stood next to you, grabbing the spoon he had been using, a calm sort of franticness in his movements.

“So sorry you saw us fighting in front of you,” He gently nudged you back towards the stool you had been seated on.

You just shrugged— it wasn’t the first time those two had gone at it in front of you. Their bickering and fighting at first scared you, two men that strong fighting? It seemed like it spelled disaster. But the bickerings never escalated past that, and you soon found yourself feeling amused watching them.

Zoro made a tsk’ing sound, arms crossed as he watched Sanji save the stew with little to no struggle. He shifted, his movements silent and the only reason you were aware was because you had been watching him. He was inching towards the cabinet where Sanji had shown you they keep different types of alcohol there. Without turning, Sanji spoke towards Zoro, voice cold, “You can wait for dinner to have your drink, marimo.”

“Damn lovecook,” Zoro huffed, eye narrowing at Sanji despite the blonde not facing him.

You look at Zoro a small smile, and he just huffed back in response before disappearing from the room. No matter how many days you spent with the crew being near him still set you on edge. There was something about the way he looked at you that told you he didn’t trust you, and the silent looks were more terrifying than him threatening you.

“Here, taste it now,” Another spoonful of stew was in front of you, and the ebbing worry that had been growing disappeared.

Chopper always kept their sick bay in top shape. The scent of cleaning supplies never felt too overbearing, and it was always a nice temperature inside. You wondered how long it normally took him to clean whenever he dug through things as frantic as he was doing now.

“Chopper,” You tried calming his frantic movements down, “It’s just a scratch— I’m fine.”

“But I need to clean the wound to see how bad it really is,” He was standing on his tiptoes reaching into a cabinet, flinging bottles around as he searched for whatever it was he was in need of, “Then disinfect it so you don’t get it infected! Then I have to dress it, if you don’t need stitches!”

You doubted you needed stitches, it stung sure, but you’d had plenty of wounds that needed stitches before. This one just needed some gauze and time and it may not even scar. You didn’t tell the little doctor that, he didn’t need a reason to grill you about your medical past.

“I doubt it needs stiches,” You mused, watching as he appeared triumphant upon finding whatever it was he had been searching for.

Hopping off the table he’d been standing on, he made his way to you, scooting the stool to be able to be closer to your arm. You held in a wince as he began cleaning the wound, clearly desperate to be careful with his actions. Hovering in the door was Sanji, a worried look on his face. What surprised you was Luffy behind him, peering around Sanji to look into the sick bay.

“I’m fine, you guys,” The genuine concern in their eyes was touching, a warm feeling growing in your chest as you smiled at them, “Just a scratch.”

“I was worried your whole arm was gonna fall off,” Luffy spoke, leaning forward against Sanji, who, despite the annoyed look on his face, accepted the weight against him.

You couldn’t help but snort, wincing slightly as Chopper applied antibacterial spray, “My entire arm was not at risk of falling off, Luffy.”

“You don’t know that,” He sounded so serious, his eyes wide, “Luckily, we have the best doctor on our ship, even if it had fallen of, he’d have fixed it!”

As if on cue, Chopper wiggled where he stood, bowing his head enough that the brim of his hat covered his eyes, though you could still see his smile, “That doesn’t make me happy at all!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his antics, watching as he wrapped your forearm was gauze, his touch light and gentle. By the time he finished wrapping your wound, the pressure mixed with the spray helped the pain all but disappear.

You held your arm up, showing the two worry warts, “See? All fixed. Not at risk of falling off at all.”

Sanji looked relieved, stepping inside, grabbing your arm gently and turning it every which way, as if studying Chopper’s work. Luckily, the little reindeer didn’t look offended by the excess studying. Luffy still stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, just watching you and Sanji. Chopper was scurrying around, tidying up the mess he’d created.

“I should kick Usopp into next week, no, next year for hurting you.”

Rolling your eyes, you pried your arm from his grip gently, patting your palm against his chest, feeling the steady heartbeat under your hand, “You will not be kicking him into next week or next year, it was an accident.”

“Still, he—”

“Still nothing,” You cut him off, sliding your hand up to cup his cheek for a moment, your heart twinging as he leaned further into your hand, “He didn’t mean to, I’m okay, it’s all good. You all are just so used to roughhousing with each other, you forget what it’s like to have someone delicate like me on board.”

Your tone was teasing, patting his cheek for good measure before removing your hand, moving to offer your help to Chopper. As you shifted, moving around the sick bay with direction from the little doctor you were unaware of the brief, stormy look that crossed Sanji’s face.

Taglist: @hannahbarberra162 @sagyunaro @twismare @nerium21 @the-maladaptive-daydreamers @glaciuswduo @thekatisspooky @kultofkorii @cr4zybeach @ceramic-raven @theweirdgirl606 @jjsmeowthie @dinnersyummy @jetblackw1ngs

#one piece #one piece x reader #op x reader #straw hats x reader #strawhats x reader #answered #asks #if you thought it was real #sanji x reader #yandere sanji x reader #yandere strawhats #yandere one piece x reader #yandere sanji

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