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troublesomesnitch · 4 months

Text

The Novice

Aemond x Septa!Reader

The one-eyed prince makes a late night confession.

Contents: Book!Aemond. Pure filth, extremely dubious consent/non-con. Confessional dirty talk, coercion, power imbalance.

Words: 4200

Mostly book!Aemond, but with some show elements added to make him a real piece of shit.

CW: sexual assault!

Proof read, but I am not good at proof reading.

Twice a week, the grand sept receives fine visitors.

It is always something you look forward to, something special and exciting; hearing guards in the streets outside, and the swift feet of errand boys running to inform your superiors.

The queen will be arriving shortly.

There is not much preparation that needs to be done, because you never tarry in your duties - there are always fresh matches laid out, candles ready to be lit, not a spec of dust on the altars. But for the queen, you go above and beyond. You fetch cushions for her dainty knees, you light incense in every corner, and you usher out any crowds that are not worthy of her presence.

You greatly admire the queen. She is all that a lady should be, the very image of womanhood. Gracious, pious, beautifully but modestly dressed, and always kind and courteous to you. She says thank you, and blessed day, sweet Sister, and she asks about your training, your health and wellbeing, what charitable causes you wish to devote yourself to.

The older septas say that the queen seems to have taken a liking to you, and that perhaps if you are lucky, she will request for you to join her household once you have taken your vows. To be a helper and companion to her daughter, and to teach the little prince and princess - her grandchildren, which is a strange thought, because the queen is so young and so beautiful to already be a grandmother.

She is certainly much younger than her husband. The king is old and frail and rarely leaves his castle now, but even in his youth, he never came to the sept. At least that is what you are told. Septon Alester says he is an unworthy husband, and an unworthy ruler, too. A heretic, like all the rest of his Valyrian kin, who flout divine law and believe themselves above the gods.

You would never dare to utter such a thing, but it seems at least partially true - in all the time you have served the sept, the king has never accompanied his queen to prayer. Not even once. She always comes alone, escorted by her guard and her maid. And sometimes by her son.

The one-eyed prince. The one who rides the largest beast in the world.

There are many rumours swirling about noble lords and ladies, but especially about him. In the taverns and winesinks people say he is of a sullen disposition, and that the loss of his eye at such a young age has left his face hideous and deformed - clearly they have never seen him, but you have, and you know it is nothing more than malicious slander.

The prince is as beautiful as his mother.

They look lovely when they kneel together by the altar, with their hands delicately folded and their heads respectfully bowed. Regal, godly. Like the Mother and the Warrior, you think. You often wonder about the contents of his prayers - what could a royal prince possibly wish for? Not as many things as a queen, it would seem, because he never kneels for as long, retreating after a minute or two to stand and wait for his mother. Watch over her; look at her with devotion and reverence. You cannot help but steal quick glances at him; at his graceful posture and his strong face, and you are always too slow to look away, so sometimes he catches you in it. Even when you stand on his blind side, he somehow knows to turn his head and meet your gaze. The little bow he gives you is courteous, but the taunting smile that follows is not, and you must always remind yourself that you have done nothing wrong.

It is not a sin to be curious.

—

When the evening bell tolls, and the city gates close, the High Septon calls to prayer. But one person must always stay behind to keep vigil until the morning, and the duty is shared between all servants of the Faith. Septons and septas, novices, even holy brothers and sisters, sometimes. Only the Most Devout are exempt from it, as well as those who are weakened by illness or old age.

You are neither, but you do not mind taking your turn. It is an easy task, as all of the city is asleep, and those who are not would much rather drink and carouse than come to a place of worship. Here, the night is quiet and calm, and you quite like these hours of solitude. Alone in the sept with only the statues, and maybe the gods, for company.

On this day though, you are startled from your thoughts when the heavy doors are swung open.

You have never before encountered guests at this hour, so your fearful imagination is quick to jump to conclusions - the man could be a thief, a common brute, a scoundrel hiding from a brawl, or - gods forbid - from the City Watch.

But when you peek out from your little corner, you are surprised to see that it is the prince. And that he is alone.

He is dressed differently tonight, in dull colours and coarser fabrics, far simpler than what he usually wears. Perhaps in an attempt to go unnoticed among the common people - but if that was indeed his intention, he has very much failed. Everything about him is unusual, from his hair to his eye to the shining silver clasp at his neck; the immaculate tailoring of each of his garments. Even the way he carries himself makes it abundantly clear that this is no grocer or stonemason.

You cast your eyes down as his steps echo through the sept, purposeful and determined. Clearly heading towards you, but you would hate to be presumptuous, so it is only when he is right in front of you that you rise from your seat to curtsy. Reverently, so deep that your knee almost touches the floor.

“Sister,” he nods. “I have sins I wish to confess - a troubled mind I wish to unburden.”

You curtsy once more, though not as low this time.

“I am not ordained to hear confessions, but I should be happy to fetch a septon - “

“No,” the prince says. “I will speak to no one but you.”

What he demands is a breach of the rules, and a cruel thing to ask of you, but there is not much to be done about it. You can hardly refuse a prince of the realm, and what if he tells his mother that you were unhelpful? After all, it is your sacred duty to comfort and guide the faithful. To lead them on the path to righteousness.

So you nod, draping your veil over your head as you both sit down on your little bench. Right beside one another, so close that your legs almost touch. A proper septa would say confess, and may the Father judge you justly, but that is not appropriate for you, so you merely look down at your folded hands and wait for the prince to speak.

“I am plagued by impure thoughts,” he begins.

The colour drains from your face in an instant. Oh, not this.

Anything else, you do believe you could handle. Envy, drunkenness, greed, gambling, even violent offences, perhaps. Anything but this. But you remain calm; force yourself to keep your composure as you speak.

“All young men have impure thoughts. It is perfectly natural.”

From the corner of your eye, it looks as though the prince smiles ever so slightly.

“Of course,” he nods. “But mine are by nature nefarious, because the lady I desire is a chaste and pious woman… a maiden, and justly proud of her innocence. She would be distraught if she knew the wickedness she inspires.”

You feel yourself blushing. Although you are sufficiently educated on the matter, speaking of such things makes you feel ashamed and uncomfortable. As it would most young women. Confession or not, nothing about this conversation is appropriate, and you want nothing more than to be done with it and return to quiet contemplation. You keep your eyes cast down, and you are as curt as you dare when you answer.

“Then you should not sully her, My Prince, even in your thoughts. You should pray to the Smith for strength, or to the Warrior if you prefer, and occupy yourself with noble pursuits. Prayer, studies, and so forth.”

“Oh, but I do,” the prince says gravely. “I devote my every hour to noble pursuits. And yet time and time again I sully her, and my own hand too in the process - yes, I must confess that I have sinned exceedingly, in both thought and deed. These urges of mine are so unbearable, I simply must relieve myself…” He pauses to look at you coolly, his brows drawn together in a disapproving frown. “You look quite pale, Septa, is my confession too scandalous for you? I should hope the Faith would not admit a novice so unfit for her position…”

“Of course not,” you quickly mutter, though in truth, you are mortified. This is far beyond your station and skill. Not only is the matter highly delicate, but you must also carefully choose your words so as to not offend a member of the royal family. And one with a - supposedly - unfortunate temper at that.

“It is not for me to command a prince,” you begin, “but it is my duty to remind you that the Faith condemns such practices - surely you know that by indulging your urges, you will only make them stronger.”

“I have tried to refrain from it,” the prince laments. “But even then, she haunts me… at night, I dream that I lie on top of her - that I spread her thighs and press her body to my own. And these dreams are so vivid, so terribly arousing, they often cause me to - forgive me, Sister - emit my seed.” He sighs deeply, and turns his face away, his shoulders tense; his handsome features full of torment. “A rather shameful predicament, for a grown man - is it not?”

Perhaps, you think, but a common one nonetheless, and not something he should be chastised for. You know perfectly well that there are some functions of a man’s body that are beyond his control, as do the gods who made it so. It is best not to dwell on it.

“My Prince,” you say instead, with what little confidence you can muster, “ - with your permission, I would offer you this advice: if you cannot restrain yourself, and if you care for this lady, then you should court and wed her.” You fiddle nervously with your dress, lowering your voice to barely more than a whisper. “It is a wholesome thing, for spouses to give their bodies to each other - for a man to make love to his wife…”

The prince hums, either in agreement or contemplation, you can’t tell. But you hope he will take your words to heart, and make this irresistible woman his wife. If the mere sight of her can stir such passion, then he would surely grow to love her deeply, and their union would be happy and prosperous. Blessed by the gods.

- Or maybe not.

“I am afraid that is not possible,” the prince says. Slowly, thoughtfully. “Because you see, my lady is a septa - a novice, as it were…”

His words trail off, and his hand reaches to caress your face, right by the edge of your veil, where a strand of hair has loosened from its pin.

You recoil at once, springing from your seat to look at him with shock and horror.

“This is highly improper - “

“I have thought of nothing but you,” he exclaims, impassioned, rising quickly to reach for you once more, “ - since the day I saw you, I have wanted no one else - ”

Again you manage to evade his embrace, but the prince is tall, and his legs are long and agile. Each one of his strides is worth two of yours, and when you back away he follows, stepping ever closer until you are backed up against a pillar.

Oh how you wish that it had only been a thief come to rob the sept. You could have easily escaped out the little hidden door by the dias; let them take whatever riches they could carry. There is only silver here, and the Faith has no shortage of that.

The prince is after something far more precious.

“Don’t touch me - ” you plead, feeling your pulse quicken, the hair rise on the back of your neck. He is too near, moving to loom over you, intimidating and imposing, and so tall that he must bend to brush his nose against your hair.

“It is a waste,” he murmurs. “That such beauty should only belong to the gods.”

You should flee. You should defend your virtue. Maids and ladies, harlots and tavern girls, all women know to protect themselves, to kick where a man is the weakest, to scratch, bite, shout, make a racket. There are guards patrolling the square outside, and septons sleeping nearby in their cells - if you were loud enough, someone would hear you and come to your aid.

But at what cost, when your assailant is a prince?

You dare not risk it, so you stand frozen in place, too frightened to push him away, too frightened to even look at him as he gropes your body, touching it in ways that it has never been, and should never be touched. One of his arms wraps around your waist, the other trails over your dress, feeling your shape underneath the fabric. Your stomach, your hips, your bottom, and especially your breasts.

He cups them with both hands, kneading and massaging them hard, pressing his fingers into your flesh.

“I would take you right here,” he breathes. “Against this very pillar, for all your gods to see - ”

The blasphemy, the shameless vulgarity - you gasp, and at the sound, the prince chuckles faintly.

“You said yourself it is a wholesome thing…”

“For husbands and wives -” you squeak, “please, you mustn’t hurt me!“

“Never,” he says, bringing your hand to rest on his chest, over his heart, as if to reassure you. “If you would only oblige me, I swear I will be gentle…”

You shake your head, but it does not dissuade him. He kisses your hair, your cheeks, the shell of your ear, touching his lips to every little sliver of exposed skin. Not just your face and neck, but your forearms too, your wrists, the insides of your elbows. Anywhere that lets him truly feel you. Feel the rapid beat of your pulse; the warmth and softness of a woman’s body.

And as he touches you, you feel him. His manhood, stiff against your hip when he presses himself against you, moaning softly at the feeling. It is a most intimate sound, and you are ashamed to realise that your body instinctively responds to it; to the closeness, the touch of a man. You feel warm in your chest, and wet between your legs - unnerving, and so at odds with the panic that still grips you, with the tears that prickle in your eyes.

“Please don’t - ” you whimper, just as his teeth graze your jaw, drawing a single, involuntary sigh from your lips. One that spurs him on to swiftly yank the veil off your head and discard it, fully exposing your hair and neck.

He pulls back to look at you, your neatly pinned tresses, your smooth throat and collarbones. Your beauty that he has long wished to admire.

“Like an angel,” he says softly, longingly, taking your face in his hands and stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. “A little angel - the Maiden in the flesh - “

“That is a blasphemous thing to say,” you sniffle.

It only makes him laugh, and before you can say anything else, he tilts your face up so he can press his mouth to yours.

No one has ever kissed you before. Many boys have wanted to, but none were ever allowed the privilege. You always knew you did not want to be a wife. That you had a different calling.

It is a very strange sensation, this kiss. Hot, wet, and sticky. You do not return it, and yet the prince is undeterred, parting your lips softly but insistently, just enough to slip his tongue inside. It gives him pleasure, even when your mouth is slack and unresponsive - you can tell from his blissful sighs, and from the indecent way he moves his hips, rubbing the prominent bulge in his trousers against you. He is so entranced by your mouth and your body that you feel a treacherous sense of relief, thinking to yourself that if this is how he wants to gratify himself - by licking your tongue and humping against your hip - you will let him. No real harm has been done to your virtue, and the gods will understand you had no choice. Already you are silently saying your prayers, to the Warrior for courage, the Mother for compassion, the Father for leniency -

But you are cruelly interrupted when the prince draws back and begins to loosen the closure of his breeches.

“No - oh no, no - ,” you shriek, but as you try to wriggle from his grasp, his face hardens and his gentle touch becomes like a vice. Rough and unyielding, holding you in place.

“You must forgive me,” he rasps, his gaze dark with lust, his nostrils flaring, “ - for I can no longer deprive myself of what I so desire...”

He is so much stronger than you. With an impeccably polished boot he shoves your feet apart, his one hand pinning your arms behind your back, the other hiking up your skirts, determined, deaf to your frantic pleas.

“You don’t understand, I must remain chaste!”

“Don’t lie to me,” he hisses, “I know the workings of the Faith, you’ve taken no solemn vows yet - “

“No, I have, I have!” you cry. “I pledged myself to the Maiden when I was a girl!”

It is the truth, but the prince does not care. He silences you with another desperate kiss, crushing his face to yours, reaching to hook his hand under your knee and lift your leg. He has you trapped, pinned between his body and the stone column, and you can claw at him until your hands bleed, it makes no difference. Your dress is bunched up, your legs forcibly parted, your most intimate secrets laid bare to be violated. A great sin, made even greater by the circumstances, and yet the gods have abandoned you, left you here to suffer.

They must be occupied elsewhere, and the statues too stand motionless on their plinths, with their tranquil faces, staring blankly into the distance as though deliberately blind to your tragedy.

To the hand that worms its way underneath your smallclothes. The nails that dig into the back of your neck, holding your head in place. The mouth that swallows up your sobs until he is forced to break the kiss so he can reach between your bodies and finish unlacing his breeches.

You gasp for breath, looking up and straight at him, your eyes wet and pleading, your lip trembling.

“Don’t ruin me, please - I beg you, don’t take from me what can never be replaced - “

The prince’s hand hesitates on your thigh. His one eye flickers between your two, between the tears that flow uncontrollably down your cheeks; your little hands clenched into fists against his chest.

For a split second there’s a shadow of something softer on his face, a strange draw around his mouth, and then he curses and releases your leg. And you bolt, without thinking, ducking under his arm to sprint towards the door and safety.

You manage all of two steps before the prince catches you and pins you to the pillar once more.

“Not yet - ” he orders, slipping a hand down the front of his trousers to finally free his member from its confines. He cradles it at the base to proudly show it off before he begins to stroke himself, shamelessly and urgently, while you look on. At once frightened and sinfully curious.

You have never seen it before. The masculine organ. Only in drawings, of which some were intended to educate young women, and others were of a much lewder nature. The prince’s manhood does look much like those anatomical illustrations, only it is bigger in person than you had imagined. Hard and swollen with need. It fits perfectly in his fist, and the skin glides back to reveal the head, which is thick and meaty, and a dark purple red. It almost looks as though it should be painful for him, having it filled and engorged in such a way. Having it stretched to be so big. But of course you know that is not the case. And even if you didn’t, his gasp of pleasure would have made it very clear.

He reaches for your wrist, tugging it down between his legs, and you are quick to look away when he closes your fingers around it, with his own hand on top. Somehow, you reason that if you keep your eyes averted, it is not as sinful. Not as deserving of punishment.

But you can still feel it. In your palm, against your clammy skin. Warm, and pulsing as he squeezes your fingers tight around the shaft, moving them from the base to the tip and back down again, using your hand to pleasure himself. Slowly at first, but as his arousal grows he quickens the pace, moving your hand only over the tip of his member, massaging the bulbous head with quick movements. All the while groping at your chest.

And you let him do it. All of it, resigning yourself to be used at his will and pleasure. It is the best and safest course of action now, and all you can do is bear it. You keep your sobs inside, and your eyes cast down, staring mindlessly at the patterns in the stone floor until the prince’s hand seizes your jaw.

“Look at me,” he commands through gritted teeth, running his thumb over your mouth, pressing against your lips. “Open - suck, use your tongue - “

You do as he says, wanting so desperately to just be done with it - once he has finished he will surely let you go. The thought prompts you to suck on his fingers with increasing fervour, taking them deep into your mouth, running your tongue along the length of them, along his knuckles; making him gasp at the feeling.

“Fuck, like that - gods yes,” he moans, letting go of your hand to lean against the pillar for support, his eye falling closed, his hips making shallow, instinctive thrusts.

You continue with the same movements, up and down over his manhood, trying to mimic exactly what he did before, whilst still sucking on his fingers, too. Letting him feel your soft mouth and your warm lips; your little wet tongue caressing his skin. You haven’t a clue as to what you are supposed to be doing, and there is no grace or skill to your licks, but each swirl of your tongue makes the prince moan regardless. He would probably much rather feel this attention somewhere else, but clearly he has the wits to know that shoving his member into an unwilling mouth is not a wise idea. So he contents himself with this.

And thankfully, it does not take long before your efforts are rewarded.

When you choke back a mewl his hips jerk forward, and his hand flies down to close around yours again, guiding you to squeeze him harder and faster. His jaw goes slack, and his manhood stiffens even more, and even though you are inexperienced, you know what it means. You can feel it, feel his sac tighten, feel him twitch in your hand as semen travels up his shaft. He bends to lean his forehead against yours, and finally, finally, he spurts, moaning with pleasure as he empties himself onto your hand, his seed pulsing out in hot, wet squirts. Soiling not only your skin and your dress, but your conscience too; your virtue, honour and dignity.

And at last it is over.

The prince slumps forwards against you, hiding his face in your neck. His body trembles with the final waves of his rapture, and he brushes his fingers over your hair in a strangely intimate way, a tender way. As though you were lovers.

In a sense, now, you suppose you are.

Before he leaves you he quickly tidies his clothes, throwing his cloak around his shoulders and tucking his shirt into his trousers. And once he has made himself presentable, he retrieves your veil too. Brushing it off with a gloved hand and draping it over your head once more.

“Thank you, Sister,” he says sweetly, cradling your face to kiss your lips and then your forehead. “I feel much more at ease now.”

No sooner have the doors closed behind him before you fall to your knees by the Maiden’s altar to beg for her forgiveness.

Part 2: The Devil You Know

Please feel free to come into my asks or DMs with critique of my fics! Constructive is preferred, but not required.

Tags. @arcielee, @helaelaemond, @targaryen-madness, @qyburnsghost.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut

1K notes · View notes

leclercsainzz · 10 months

Note

hello love x

i was wondering if you could potentially do one where the reader is an actress and is in the new hunger games movies and everyone ships her with tom but she’s also dating lando … could you make a love triangle situation with these two?? like maybe she hangs out with tom more than lando or something idk lol u can come up with anything (you can decide who the endgame is) sort of like a illicit affair or where maybe she is seeing tom and everyone is aware of it idk??? (at this point im just saying nonsense i think lol)

ILLICIT AFFAIRS

PAIRINGS: lando norris x gf!reader / tom blyth x fem!reader

TYPE: social media au

WARNING: // cheating implied

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5

yourusername

liked by landonorris, tomblyth and 689,736 others

yourusername: making this movie was hands-down one of the best experiences of my life thus far! i cannot wait to share more behind the scenes content with you all:)) and with only one week to spare .. see you out there on our press tour!

view 5,846 comments

landonorris: can’t wait!

landonorris: proud of you, my love!! ❤️

↳ yourusername: ilyyyyy 😘

↳ user: lando being a supportive bf >>>

↳ user: alexa, how to get my own lando norris?? 😭

user: she’s so pretty, i can’t

user: after reading the book, i just know this movies gonna break me 😩😩😩😩

user: LANDO LET ME HAVE HER, PLEASE

user: SCREAMING!!! CANNOT WAIT!!!!

user: i have been looking forward to this movie since they announced it, can’t believe we’re only one week away

joshandresrivera: who’s the cute guy at the end??

↳ yourusername: just some guy i know 🤷🏻‍♀️

user: caNnot wait, omggggg

user: read the book and idk if i’m mentally prepared

user: you look soo good 😩😩😩

songbirdsandsnakes: our lucy gray ❤️❤️

user: i’m actually freaking tf out about this alapapalddbsod

user: YES YES YES YES YES

oscarpiastri: can i get free tickets?

↳ yourusername: absolutely!

↳ user: i love this duo so much 🤣

user: movie of the year incoming????

user: the movie hasn’t even come out yet and the amount of snow x lucy gray edits i’ve seen just from the trailer alone 😩

↳ user: i just know once the movie comes out they’ll be all over tiktok …. i can’t wait tho!!!!!!

user: i just realized that jason schwartman, viola davis, and peter dinklage are in this too!!! alwnsofnf

user: i’ve seen the trailer like 10+ times, can’t wait!!

hunterschafar: ❤️

user: will josh and jlaw be in this??

↳ user: noooo 💀 bro, this is set 64 years before them

user: she’s playing lucy gray right???

↳ user: yes

user: AHHHHHH

user: can’t wait for all the interviews omg!!!!

user: yn and the hunger games???? SIGN ME TF UPPP

user: soo excited over this

user: i wonder if lando will be attending the premiere

yourusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 675,758 others

yourusername: last race with my favorite boyyy 🥺🧡

tagged: @landonorris

view 4,846 comments

user: LAST RACE??? WHYYY????

↳ user: she starts press tour tomorrow for the hunger games

user: ima miss seeing you in the paddock 😩

user: ima miss you in the paddock 😩 but i cannot wait for the hunger games press interviews

user: his smile 😩😩

user: my fav papayas 🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡 + oscar

user: the first pic 😭😭

user: last race??? nooooooo

user: wait, im confused …. why’s she leaving???

user: gonna miss you

user: last pic 😩

user: YN?!?!!? YOURE LEAVING??!?? 😭😭😭😭😭

user: my favssssss 🧡

user: ya’ll acting as if she’s leaving forever and won’t see her again lmaooo 🤣 she’s doing press tour bc the movie she’s in comes out in a week

landonorris: 😘😘😘

landonorris: gonna miss your cute face 🥺

↳ yourusername: gonna miss you tooo, pretty boy 🥺

user: the way he smiles around her

user: wait when is she leaving???

↳ yourusername: a little after the race

↳ user: wait why tho??

↳ user: she starts press tour tomorrow since her movie comes out next week lol

oscarpiastri: that smile thoooo 🤭

user: where is she going????

user: THE best couple

user: what movie is she going for?

↳ user: the hunger games

↳ user: WAIT FRR????? is it the new one???

user: parents, frrrrr 😍

user: can’t wait for press tour, i just know she’s gonna slay

carlossainz55: pic creds to me, thank you 💁🏻‍♂️

↳ yourusername: 🙄🙄🙄 yea yea

↳ landonorris: 😘

↳ user: ynlando who??? i only know carlando ❤️🧡

user: they’re the reason i believe in love ❤️❤️

user: the way he looks at her, bro 😭😭😭

↳ user: he’s sooo in love, i can’t 😩😩

user: we won’t see ynlando for a while 😭

user: my ynlando heart 😍😍😍❤️❤️

yourusername

liked by landonorris, hunterschafer and 689,945 others

yourusername: thank you, berlin ❤️ @thehungergames

tagged: @tomblyth @hunterschafer @joshandresrivera

view 7,526 comments

user: THE REFERENCE OMG!!!!

user: MOTHER IS SERVING, OOH MYYYY 😍😍😍😍

user: he’s sooo fine!! but he looks EXTRA FINE with the buzz cut & blonde hair 😮‍💨

📌 pinned

↳ yourusername: told yaaaa @tomblyth

joshandresrivera: ohh hiiii 👋🏼

user: yn came to serve

user: tom’s the new white boy of the month!!!

user: HER PINNED COMMENT

user: tom’s soo good looking 😩

user: she’s so beautiful 😍😍

hunterschafer: WERK

↳ yourusername: are we about to kiss rn?

user: okay but why do i ship her and tom?? 🫣

user: idc what anyone says, she looks gorgeous! 😍

user: ngl but tom and yn look good together 🤷🏻‍♀️

↳ user: she’s got a bf and he’s got a gf

user: this man’s gorgeous but i also gotta remember he’s the one responsible for finnick’s death

↳ yourusername: same bestie 🥺

↳ user: OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG

user: okay but her and tom look soo good 😩😩

landonorris: stunning 😍

landonorris: you’re gorgeous

↳ yourusername: 😘😘😘😘

↳ user: them >>>

↳ user: missing them rn 😩😩

user: dress is gorgeous! she’s gorgeous! i just don’t like the top of the dress, if i’m being honest

tomblyth: ❤️❤️

user: cannot wait till the movie is out!!!!

user: tHe second slide and fourth slide slandnslsmd

user: oBSESSED 😩😩😩😩

user: i can already tell yn and tom are gonna be my fav duo

user: tom tho 😍

user: you look soo beautiful, i can’t 😩

user: 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

user: i’m already a simp for president snow, and the movie hasn’t even come out yet

user: TOM, OMG 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

user: THE WAY SHE PINNED THAT ONE COMMENT 😂 yn being a coriolanus simp confirmed???

user: everything about you is soo slayyyyyyyyyy

user: nothing beats the original cast but they all look sooooo good, i can’t even lie

user: the dress reference 🤩

user: PLEASE GIVE TOM MY NUMBER!!!! OR GIVE ME HIS NUMBER EITHER IS FINE WITH ME

user: is it just me or does tom look better with the buzz cut and blonde hair???

↳ yourusername: you’re not the only one 😩 ive told him several times!!!!!!

yourusername

liked by joshandresrivera, landonorris and 699,947 others

yourusername: world premiere for @thehungergames 🇬🇧

view 6,836 comments

user: THE THRID POST ALSNDKDKDMDNSN

user: i ship

user: why do they look so in love in that third slide??

joshandresrivera: 🧡

user: yn, babe, where’s lando????

user: that don’t look like lando to me 👀

user: the chemistry is INSANE 😮‍💨

landonorris: you’re killing it, babe ❤️

↳ yourusername: 😘😘 love yaa

↳ landonorris: i love you moreeee 😘

↳ user: parents 😭😭😭

user: i hope her and tom date, they look so good together

user: ya’ll gotta stop shipping tom and yn, yn’s literally dating lando and tom’s got a girlfriend

user: tom and her look so good 😩😩😩

tomblyth: love you, gorgeous ❤️

↳ yourusername: ❤️❤️

↳ user: IM SORRY WHAT??!???

↳ user: excuse me??? sir????

user: TOMS COMMENT AKALSMDN

user: the chemistry is INSANE

user: he called her gorgeous 😭😭😭 brb gonna go cry

hunterschafer: YUPPPPP

hunterschafer: serving as always!

user: MOTHER IS SERVING 😍😍😍

user: obsessed with you and tom 😍😍😍

user: if i were lando, i would be crying in a corner rn

user: why do they look like a couple in that third slide??

user: toMs’S COMMENT!! he called her gorgeous

user: ya’ll shipping her with tom as if she doesn’t have a bf

↳ user: have you ever heard of cheating??

user: ya’ll see the interview?? she called him delicious and said that it’s so easy to fall in love with him 😭😭

↳ user: she said, “and getting to work with that is delicious to an actor like me” bffr she never said anything about it being easy to fall in love with him 🙄

↳ user: actually she did proceed to talk about how easy it is to fall in love with him?????? if anything you bffr

user: @landonorris come get your girl

user: she’s so touchy with him 🙄🙄🙄🙄

user: LANDO OPEN YOUR EYES

user: we’re all thinking the same thing right?? 😏

user: they’re definitely fucking around

tomblyth

liked by yourusername, hunterschafer and 678,927 others

tomblyth: thank you, l.a. 🤩

tagged: @yourusername @joshandresrivera @hunterschafer

view 5,936 comments

user: ngl but yn and tom look cute together

user: PARENTS FRRRR 😍😍😍😍😍

user: lando & yn >>>>>

user: they have sm tension

user: ya’ll are crazy if you think yn would leave lando for tom

↳ user: and youre crazy for not thinking that maybe yn already cheated on lando with tom 🫢

user: @landonorris @landonorris @landonorris

user: lando’s busy trying to win a race while yn’s busy fooling around with tom

yourusername: SNOW FALLS ON TOP!!!

↳ user: yes, on top of you

↳ user: nahhhhh 😭😭😭

user: how’d you know about the tattoo??? 👀

yourusername: love yaaaa ❤️

↳ tomblyth: back at you! ❤️

↳ user: @landonorris

hunterschafer: cute

↳ user: how does it feel to third wheel all the time?

user: yn’s literally soo gorgeous!!! 😩

user: if i were yn, i’d be all over him too, idcccc

user: lando’s stronger than me bc if my gf was like this with another man id be going apeshit

user: they’re 100% having an affair

↳ user: ohh definitely!

↳ user: the fact that he knew about her tattoo that none of us knew about says a lot!!!! this man has explored her body

user: yntom >>> ❤️❤️❤️

user: i wonder if lando knows about the tattoo tom was referring to

↳ user: that man is clueless like the rest of us

user: @landonorris

user: not ppl tagging lando 😭😭

↳ user: he’s gottta open his eyes

↳ user: @landonorris

imessage

— author’s note: this is simply for the story, i’m aware that rachael and tom both have partners

pt2?

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mayaree-darling · 11 months

Text

mastermind

from aree: The Harbinger Trailer has consumed me yall are getting a brainrot. (I made this when the trailer first came out and have never posted it so here it is).

tw for yandere content

Yandere!Harbingers with a "darling" who is the right hand of the Tsaritsa herself. Not a Harbinger, but nonetheless important because they're the main strategist of the Fatui. I can just imagine the pain for the Harbingers because although darling is within arms reach, they're not allowed to make a move lest they anger their ruler.

Childe who first sees you akin to a younger sibling amongst the Fatui - you're no underling, on par with a Harbinger in importance if not more, protected almost as much as the Archon Herself - it would be hard not to be protective of you. And yet as you fix his wounds after another fight he started, telling him off in place of Her Majesty, giving him tips on how he could've fought better in whispers in between, his growing need for your attention consumes him. When he kisses your cheek (as thanks, he says) in front of the other Harbingers he's already looking forward to you treating the injuries they're sure to beat into him.

Scaramouche who grins when the Harbingers bristle as you walk side by side in the halls of Zapolyarny Palace - he says you should consider it an honor to walk with him, and it inflates his ego when you reply with a small nod and a smaller smile. Behind the others' backs, he follows you like a lost child, always walking behind you, gripping on to the back of your clothes like you might slip away if he's not careful. He's obsessed with the way you look at him and ask him questions about his creation. He fails to see that the adoration you hold for him is as hollow as he is.

Signora wonders if you know when she is at her lowest, that would certainly explain things, wouldn't it? She thinks she has lost her mind when she sees glimpses of her lost love when turning corners too quickly, haunting her when she lets her guard down but then you're in front of her, greeting her with a soft smile that feels all too familiar and she realizes she has gone mad in other ways (she welcomes that newfound madness like the lover that it is, finally coming home).

Pantalone who believes that one of life's greatest pleasures is to own what others cannot - to collect the rare, the exquisite and the hard to obtain - and to have you, a person of great mind and ranking, be dangled right infront of him on a piece of gold thread held by the Tsaritsa, who was he to resist the urge to make you his? (after all, he deserves only the best) The longer he does not have you, the more your worth rises in his eyes.

Dottore who initially wants to pick apart your brain (quite literally) but his interest shifts and doubles when he reaches an epiphany that what he truly lacked from the Akademiya was someone who shared his intellect, a genius to match his own. Maybe you don't share his affinity for biology, but he loves the way your conversations keeps him on his toes (if you weren't a being close to perfection for him before, then you certainly are now.)

Arlecchino who watches as you care for the children in the orphanage, checking in on them even long after they've joined the ranks of the Fatui and compares it to the frigid ways of the other Harbingers. For the first time since being a part of this cold nation, she is envious of the warmth you give (why must you have so much love to share?) She thinks that should the day come she turns her back on this frigid country, she would surely take your hearth with her.

Marionette who finds herself being drawn to the way you move around a room and hold yourself up in front of people, marveling at the intricacies of each part of your body and the way they make up the being that is you (you could trip and fall and she'd still sigh in awe). Her fascination turns you from muse to future subject. Surely such a specimen must be preserved, right? Not to mention, there would be no greater honor than to turn the Tsaritsa's best into a perfect unchanging doll.

Damselette who usually goes quiet when you're in the same room as her, always eager to hear you talk, almost hissing when a Harbinger tries to speak over you. She finds your voice is the one in her head who speaks reason to her when she gets a bit out of control (Does she listen? No, but your voice is always ever so lovely). Wouldn't it be so nice if you're the lone voice she hears always, the same way you're already always in her thoughts?

Capitano who is thankful his mask covers the fond look he gets when you turn to him - not with fear like the lower ranking Fatui or haughty like the Harbingers - but as an equal, leveling him with a gaze that leaves him fooling himself that it means something more. He's less thankful for his mask when someone calls your attention away from him and he can't control the glare he sends their way (maybe if they saw the way he looked at them, they'd finally be put in their place).

Pulcinella is quick to put you in a pedestal - you are someone to be respected and someone to be kept at a distance. And yet as he watches the Harbingers fall deeper and deeper into obsession, he takes it upon himself to protect the Tsaritsa's favorite and the Fatui's brain from whatever his co workers are plotting. As he spends more time with you (making sure the others do not occupy all of your time), the pedestal he keeps you on crumbles until all he sees is another child to keep under his wing. He fails to see he has only fallen into a different hole as the rest.

Strategist!Darling who may pretend to be oblivious to the Harbingers' feelings but is actually letting it all happen to make sure they all stay under the Tsaritsa's rule one way to another.

Does Pierro know what you're doing? Maybe. It's not like he is blind to how the Harbingers act around you, subtle as they try to be. If you spend enough time with him, you might be able to tell that he enjoys watching you play the part of a fool, dancing around the others and making them dance for you, too. He might even step in once he thinks the other Harbingers are stepping out of line, but it all depends on what he gets out of sticking into your business.

I also like the dynamic where although the Harbingers cannot make a move to claim what is "their's", darling is just as trapped. Although they always sometimes want to leave, they know as much as anyone that the Tsaritsa is the only thing standing between them and the others. The moment they try to leave the Tsaritsa's side or they lose her favor, it's all fair game for the Harbingers.

Everyone is stuck in a stalemate until someone makes a misstep.

✨ Masterlist ✨

Taglist: 💛@anime-allover 💛@faeriessky 💛 @prksolon 💛 @dai-tsukki-desu 💛 @wonpielle

Disclaimer: Characters are not mine and belong to their respective creators. Their portrayal is merely my own interpretation of them and may not be accurate to their intended characterization. I stake no claim to the original works, only to the ideas and plot of the fictitious stories I’ve written them into.

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her-devils-advocate · 4 months

Text

Home, love, family

pairings: Levi Ackerman x reader

genre: fluff

summary: It has been some time since the fighting had ended, the world has started to move on and you find yourself doing the same.

You and Levi decide it is time to start taking the next step towards enjoying the future you fought for.

word count: 1,787

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56315470

After years spent fighting towards a dream, an ideal world without titans and worry, you now find yourself standing within that once unrealistic future. It didn't come without sacrifice, each tally on your heart continues to weigh it down to this day, but you refuse to stop carrying the souls of your friends. Some part of you likes to believe that while you live on while carrying their memory, they get to experience this new life by your side, wherever they may be.

The world isn't as you had hoped, the price paid seems too high for some, yet you are content to try and put it behind you as much as possible. You fought for too long and lost too much to not make the most of the new world. A sentiment you're glad to share with Levi.

You now stand in awe as you survey the large clearing in the forest, the trees forming a new, more natural wall around you. The ancient bark twists towards the sky and erupts into a sea of green above, you were surprised to see such a gorgeous sight had evaded the rumbling at first, already used to the muddy barren land you and many others had found themselves in.

Your eyes widen when they finally fall on the small, cosy cottage sat proudly within. Flowers surround the building, attracting the attention of the perfectly round bumblebees nearby, happily flittering between each bud without a care in the world. You watch them hover with a small smile, maybe you can finally experience a similar life, having been freed of the bonds of duty. Now free to spend your days working to provide a life for you and Levi, rather than the future of mankind.

You're so distracted by your thoughts that you fail to notice Levi slowly approaching you, taking the time to remove the few bags you had brought from the car.

"And just when I thought we had escaped living behind walls." He mutters as you move to take the bags off him, shooting him a glare as he puts up a small fight despite his cane.

"Oh hush, this is different. We have all the privacy in the world here, a quiet place just for you, me and whoever we allow to visit." You cannot help but grimace, that list of people has grown shockingly short. You shake your head, refusing to let that train of thought continue its rampage through your mind, there are always new bonds to be forged alongside flowers to lay against cold stone memorials.

Noticing your falling mood, Levi steps forward to take the bags back one more, only to place them on the stepping stones leading towards your new home. He then lays his cane on top, before carefully making his way towards you.

Before you can ask him what he's doing, he scoops you up with ease. One hand is securely around your back while the other rests under your knees. The action brings a small squeak out from your lips, the surprise rendering you speechless as you wrap your arms around his neck, staring up at him with wide eyes. He rolls his eyes at your darkening cheeks before walking towards the door, giving it a swift kick all while happily ignoring the offended look you give him in return.

“Hey! We haven’t even officially moved in yet and you’re already being rough with the place.” Your expression downplays your words and you find it hard to keep up the stern tone for long.

“Tch, it’s fine. Do you see any damage? No. Anyways, I’d fix it if there was, it’s not like we don’t have the time for that now.”

You don’t bother to reply, letting the back-and-forth drop before it can grow. Instead, you take the time to study his face, carefully following the jagged scars running along one side of his face. You slowly unwrap one of your hands and bring it to gently stroke along the scar, smiling tenderly as he subtly leans into the action. His eyes are tired, something you are well acquainted with, but recently you have noticed a new light shining within the grey of his eyes, a peace that neither of you had experienced bringing new sensations to your life.

“Time… We have all the time we need now.” You echo his sentiment, watching his eyes soften as he looks down at you with a small smile. You will never get tired of seeing that expression on his face, soaking up the rare sight each time while doing your best to lure it out of him whenever you can. You are momentarily brought back to reality when you feel him shift you in his arms, his face betraying nothing despite the way he continues to favour one of his legs and has swapped to leaning against the wall.

“What are you doing?” You question as your hands come up to straighten out his cravat, the silky material having fallen loose during the long journey you had just taken.

“Carrying you.” His voice is monotone, yet you can feel the mix of exasperation and amusement within his words. You give him a look that shows just how unimpressed you are, you fight off a small grin when he rolls his eyes and continues, “If you didn’t want that answer, you should have been more specific.”

“Okay then, why are you carrying me when last time I checked, I’m not the one with the injured leg?”

At that, he scoffs yet makes no move to release you. Instead, his grip on you tightens and you watch as a small blush dusts his cheeks. He avoids your eyes, instead peering into the half-empty cottage awaiting your arrival.

“Isn’t it a tradition to carry your partner across the threshold of your new home?” His voice is low and his head is held even lower as he does his best to casually hide his expression from your prying eyes. You can’t fight off your blush, now painting your cheeks with a rosy hue to pair with his.

You open your mouth, only to close it, the words escaping you as you try your best to respond, not wanting to leave him squirming. “That’s usually done after a wedding unless you have something to tell me. You didn’t marry me in the night, did you?”

You keep your words as playful as you can with your heart threatening to jump out of your chest and mix itself up in your sentences, the hope you had pushed down over the chaotic months now deciding to slowly crawl back into the front of your mind. The small huff of amusement he gives in reply doesn’t help to push the hope back into its confinements.

“Can’t say I did, that’s something I would want you to remember and knowing you, you’d also make us have some shitty party, with a cake and those brats to celebrate it with.” Levi’s voice is gentle as he gets caught up in his imagination and you find yourself staring up at him, eyes wide with adoration.

“We would have the biggest party, I would invite everyone that we know. You’d be so fed up by the end of the night, utterly sick of the attention and ready to leave.” You rest your head against his chest with a small chuckle, feeling his quiet laughter gently rock your body.

“I can see that a little bit too well. You would insist on dancing with everyone from our squad and I would end up glaring at one of them, probably Connie, for being clumsy and standing on your foot.” You can hear the affection he continues to hold for your old squad laced in his words and find yourself slowly nodding against his chest, your fingers playing with the fabric of his shirt.

“Connie would absolutely be the one to do that, he would panic and then step on my foot. Then he would see your face and panic even more, calling you “Captain Levi” on instinct despite us being retired now,” you slightly lower your voice and speed up your words to mimic the boy’s voice, earning a scoff from Levi. “Then Jean would tease the poor boy, making him get embarrassed while Armin or Mikasa would try to gently de-escalate the pair.”

“And then I would snatch you away in the middle of the commotion and we would sneak out to finally get to spend time together, you complaining the entire time about not saying goodbye.” He finishes your joint daydream with a fond smile and despite the future scenario, you can’t help but notice how similar it sounds to your time in the Scouts. Never having enough time to properly spend together and always having the squad to lead, yet you can’t say you regret it and looking back, you’ve always had a small, albeit very odd, family by your side.

Before you can speak that thought aloud, his voice catches your attention once more and you can feel his body tense up. “Well, we might have done this thing backwards, having just bought a house together already. But I’m not wasting any more time, not again.”

“Levi?” You can’t help the shake in your voice, his words causing a multitude of emotions to swirl in your chest.

“The only logical next step to take is to marry you.”

A small gasp escapes from your lips as his gaze burns into you, neither of you willing to look away and break the moment. You feel your eyes begin to water as your heart overflows with joy, but you blink them away, instead letting out a small chuckle.

“You make it sound like it’s a battle tactic.”

“From the previous conversation, it might as well be.” Levi counters quickly and you can feel him slowly begin to relax as he walks through the door, carrying you into your new life together and gently placing you back onto your feet. Before you can take a moment to savour everything, to let the whirlwind of emotions calm down and be processed, you hear him click his tongue in annoyance. You turn to face him, watching as he drags a slender finger across the dark wood of the stairs handrail, his eyebrows drawn together in disgust.

“This place is covered in dust, before we do anything, it needs to be cleaned. Stay put, I’ll get the bag.”

You can’t help the load groan as you watch him drift back outside. You take the short break to mentally prepare yourself for a long day of scrubbing the floors side by side with the man you love.

#♥. writing #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi x reader #aot x reader #levi ackerman x you #captain levi #aot levi #captain levi x reader #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #aot #snk

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604to647 · 1 month

Text

Safest with You (Ch. 21 - The Way to Get Over Someone, Part 2)

11.3K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Despite Din's attempts to be evasive, you learn the truth about your break-up, and make some decisions about what you are and are not willing to accept going forward.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Angst, pining, longing. Nicknames as usual (pretty bird, baby). Some smuttiness but won't spoil.

A/N: Well, we're here: the penultimate chapter (if you don't count the epilogue) - sorry for the word count! 😱 Thank you to everyone who's read up to here - I can't tell you how much it means to me! I know some of you have some strong feelings about Din's actions/dumbdumbness and that's okay!! If you feel like regardless of his intentions, he shouldn't be forgiven/can't be redeemed, I invite you to read up until the paragraph that ends with the blue heart dividers 💙💙💙. I hope that where it ends provides a satisfying conclusion for the series for you and thank you, thank you, thank you again!

All dividers by @saradika-graphics / Series Masterlist

You don’t know how you get through dinner; you must have gone on some kind of small talk auto-pilot because if Mark knew just how much your mind was preoccupied by another man while he was being nothing but genuine and engaging, he probably would have thrown a glass of wine in your face.

Outside of the restaurant, Mark gives you a shy look and asks if you want to get ice cream for second dessert. Oh man, he really is good guy.

“Oh Mark, I really cannot believe I’m turning down ice cream, but I have something to confess to you,” you look apologetic and hope he’ll let you say what you think he deserves to hear.

“Honestly, Mark – you’re a dream date. You’re smart and funny and Jen was so right, you’re a fucking catch. I can’t tell you how guilty I’ve been feeling because I don’t think I’ve been reciprocating the energy and effort that you deserve. I don’t know if Jen told you, but I got out of a relationship a while ago and I thought I was ready to date again – but being with you tonight… I realize I’m completely out of my element. I don’t have any business going out with a great guy like you – not right now anyways. I’m so sorry.”

Mark looks surprised, but his tone is understanding, “Oh! Wow. Jen did say something about that – I’m sorry about your last relationship. It sounds like it really did a number on you. If it makes you feel better – I had a great time. I didn’t in anyway feel like I was carrying the date or anything. And if tonight was you not feeling like you’re up to dating again, then I can’t quite imagine what it would be like to date you when it’s something you’re ready to put your all into. Thanks for being honest. When you feel like you’re ready to give dating another shot – think of me?”

It’s a generous and gentlemanly response; you really couldn’t ask for anything more. The two of you part ways with a light hug outside the restaurant; Mark offers to call you a cab, but you let him know you’ll be fine, and wave appreciatively as he drives away in the car the valet brings him.

Sighing a heavy sigh, you’re just thinking it might be best if you send Jen a message to let her know how the date went before Mark does when you hear a crash coming from the alleyway next to the restaurant.

Curiosity getting the best of you, you walk over to the side of the building and peek around the corner; there in the alley is the occupier of all your current thoughts, Din, kicking garbage cans in frustration. When you see him punch the brick wall of the building and shake out his fist, your legs carry you to him as if on instinct – unable to see Din hurt without the urge rising to comfort and soothe him.

Din has both of his palms up against the wall when you close in on him, leaning his weight against his hands with his eyes closed, breathing heavy.

“Din? Are you okay?” you ask softly, not wanting to startle him.

He looks up, surprised at your appearance – eyes stormy, the rich browns of his irises full of emotion, “I’m okay, pretty bird.”

Pretty bird. Your heart swells at the familiar term of endearment that you thought you’d never hear again. It’s like music to your ears.

“This doesn’t look okay,” you gently pull the hand that you saw him shake in pain away from the wall, turning it over and cradling it in your hands - gasping a little when you see his knuckles scraped and bleeding. Din watches your pretty face cloud with concern as you take a handkerchief from your purse and delicately wrap it around his wounded hand; tying it snugly against his palm before turning his hand over and bringing his knuckles to your lips, pressing a tender kiss against the makeshift bandage.

“Thank you, baby.”

You’re looking at him with such a sweet expression that Din’s heart starts to ache again; he has to remind himself that your concern isn’t really for him particularly – it’s just your kind nature, “Where’s your date? Did he go and get the car or something?”

You shrug good naturedly, “I sent him home. Would you mind putting me in a cab, Din?”

“Of course.” As Din walks with you back towards the street, his injured hand rests protectively on your lower back and the gesture causes a chill to run up your spine.

It’s not in uncomfortable silence that the two of you wait on the curb, but Din is afraid that if he doesn’t engage you in some type of conversation, you and this moment will disappear before his mind registers it as being real, “Why did you send your date home? Did he try something?” His eyes darken.

You shake your head lightly; Din’s protective nature is exactly as you remember - you’ve missed it, “No, nothing like that. He was fine, really.” You can’t deny it any longer, you’ve missed him, “He just wasn’t… you.” With this admission you look up at Din and search his eyes – does he miss you too?

“Oh, pretty bird,” Din manages to breathe out before he descends on your mouth, kissing you fully and so full of longing and desperation he’s afraid he might actually break you. Your arms fly up of their own accord and wrap around Din’s neck, pulling him closer, closer, closer; your fingers thread and tug at the loose curls at the nape of his neck and you long to run your hands through his hair again - you refrain, not wanting to mess up his hairstyle. He’s yours and you’re his again in this kiss – every brush of your lips, every step in the dance of your tongues a testament to how much you’ve missed each other.

You’re melting. Melting into Din’s strong arms and the safety of his hold, reveling in the warmth of his affections. It’s like you’ve never left, his body molds to yours, fitting so right – pressed flushed against Din, you dare anything to try and get between the two of you right now.

Parting reluctantly when you hear the slow crunch of tires coming to a stop next to you, Din kisses your forehead gently before seeing you into the backseat of the cab. When you see him open the passenger side door and speak to the driver, you recall with a surge of affection that cab ride after Katie’s birthday when you and Din reconnected after your brief separation. Once again, Din tells the driver your address and emphasizes the importance of getting you home safely, punctuating his point with an overly generous tip. Your heart swells at the memory – the déjà vu driving home how everything about your relationship had been real.

When Din comes back to see you in the backseat, your eyes are bright and full of feeling – he’s here, the sweet man who always takes care of everyone, who only every wanted to take care of you; he’s right here in front of you again. Bringing your hand up to Din’s cheek, your heart soars when he leans into your palm with a smile; the soft feel and weight of his face familiar and comforting.

“Din, I know you didn’t sleep with Vanessa,” you say simply with no room for argument – a simple fact. Now that you’ve said it out loud, it seems so fucking obvious. How could you have ever believed that this man could have been capable of such a betrayal?

Simplicity and truth are all that Din can afford as well, “Of course not. How could I ever want anyone else when I had you? The perfect woman. You’re the love of my life, pretty bird. Would never cheat on you.”

The sincerity of his words brings tears to your eyes, “Then why, Din? Why would you want me to think that you had?”

You look so confused and sad; for the billionth time, Din chastises his past self for his dumb decisions, “Needed you to hate me, pretty bird. Needed you to stay away from me. It’s the only way to keep you safe.”

Though this answer is vague, your response is relayed with certainty; hands cupping Din’s face, “I’m safest with you, Din.”

The kiss that Din presses to your lips at this declaration is achingly desperate, as if he’s trying to brush away all his past mistakes and wipe clean the hurt he’s caused. He loves you. You can feel it in every stroke of his tongue over yours, and in the way his teeth nip and nibble at your lower lip.

You’ve missed his mouth, his touch, and everything Din – and judging by the way his hands cradle your face and the deep emotions swirling in the richness of brown eyes, Din’s missed you just as much. The two of you hold each other, foreheads pressed together for closeness, breathing in the other’s air as you soak in this togetherness that neither of you ever thought you’d experience again.

Finally, remembering what that last cab ride led to, you whisper, “Din, will you come over tonight?”

There’s a pause as Din’s brows furrow and his eyes squeeze shut. This moment of tenderness with you, one where you don’t hate him, has been more than he deserves. But it’s a fantasy, a mirage – the reports of escalating violence he listened to during tonight’s meeting still fresh in his mind, Din shakes his head in frustration. Based on what had been disclosed in the meeting, he can’t help but think that it’s working – everything he’s done to remove the target on your back is working; he can’t throw away your safety just so he can have this feeling again. That would be too risky. Selfish.

“Pretty bird, I can’t do that. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t understand, Din,” your voice breaks at his latest rejection and the sound tears Din in two.

He lifts your chin with his fingers so that you’ll look at him though the tears that are already starting to form in your beautiful eyes, “Baby, please understand. We can’t. We can’t be together – you deserve better than this, than me. Being with me puts you in unnecessary danger. My deepest fear is that you get hurt and I can’t… I won’t let that happen.”

“You’re hurting me right now, Din,” your voice small, sad.

Din knows he is, but he has to stay strong and resolved for your sake, even if this short respite from the dull ache of his everyday existence has been a heaven beyond his imagination, “I’m sorry, pretty bird. I really am. I love you, I love you. But you deserve better.”

You say nothing but the few tears that roll down your cheeks speak volumes. With great difficulty, Din says a wordless goodbye with kisses to your hair, then both of your hands before letting them and you go. He knocks on the top of the cab to let the driver know he can leave; as the taxi drives away, he sees your hurt face looking back at him and it nearly brings him to his knees.

Pressing the heels of his palm to his eyes, Din lets out a loud growl of frustration. Taking several deep breaths before going back in to rejoin the Family meeting, he repeats to himself a mantra that he has to believe – This is the right thing. The most important thing is that she’s safe. Staying away from her keeps her safe.

---

Din’s resolve lasts exactly two days.

---

It takes you only the duration of the cab ride home to get over the sting of Din’s rejection. Yes, the emotional whiplash of having him tell you that he loves you only for him say that it doesn’t change anything between the two of you hurt, but by the time you’ve taken Al out and finished getting ready for bed, your hurt feelings have been replaced by fresh purpose and determination.

You finally have some answers. Somehow Din has convinced himself that being apart from him is for your benefit and he’s willing to sacrifice his own happiness for it. The problem for you is that he’s also willing to sacrifice yours.

There’s a part of you that is livid about this, but you’re keeping this particular emotion at bay for the present moment with your newfound conviction to get to the bottom of what’s going on; you’ll get the answers you seek before you decide how you’re going to feel about it all.

You spend most of the weekend turning over the events of the last five months in your head, looking at them with a new perspective after the revelations from the past four days; mentally preparing a list of things that Din owes you explanations for and talking yourself in and out of how you’ll demand them of him.

By some twist of fate, your regular Sunday brunch has been cancelled for the first time in forever, with several of your friends unable to make it – you can’t decide if this is in your favour or not.

On one hand, you could really use their opinions and a sounding board for your rollercoaster of thoughts and emotions; on the other hand, you suspect that Din is currently not your friends’ favourite person and you could probably do without the barrage of insults that would inevitably be thrown about as a reaction to his and Vanessa’s confessions from this past week. Not that Din didn’t deserve them, but rather they wouldn’t help you work out what you need to do next.

By Sunday afternoon you’re sure of a few things:

Din loves you.

He has always loved you and he never stopped.

You love him, too.

He truly believed that being with him put you in danger.

What you didn’t know:

How could it be that he loved you so deeply but could so readily leave you? Not just initially five months ago, but again, not two days earlier?

What gave him the right to decide what was best for you?

Did he really think it acceptable to keep you in the dark about things that he clearly believed impacted your life so significantly?

The details of what prompted Din to act the way he did don’t interest you as much as why it led him to behave so unsympathetically for the past five months. The more you think about it, the harder it is for you sit still and wait out the indetermined amount of time needed before you get your answers.

On Sunday night, you make the decision to head down to Mando’s yourself after work one day this week. Feeling confident in your decided course of action, you’re as satisfied as you can be with the situation when you hear a knock on your door.

---

This is too easy.

Din mutters to himself as he walks through the parking garage beneath your apartment building undetected. It was entirely too easy for him to gain entry into the garage and avoid the security cameras on his way to the internal stairwell. He makes a mental note to talk to Paz about this gap in security as he’s taking the stairs two at a time up to your floor.

He had tried to stay away, he really had. But just as Din had always known, without the deterrent of you hating him and the surety that you would push him away, he had only his own self control to keep him from seeking you out, and that had crumbled under your loving touch outside the restaurant on Friday.

It had been too long since Din had gone without the feel of your soft lips pressed to his or basked in the warmth of your soft gaze and he had positively melted from both when he saw you after your date. Like an addict in recovery, the high from his relapse was too intense to ignore; he simply could not be kept from you any longer.

He barely recalls what happened after going back into the restaurant on Friday and finishing the Family meeting. Or how he got through Saturday at the gym, trying to slog through this month’s invoicing and attempting (unsuccessfully) to concentrate on Jimmy’s training. Don’t even ask him what he did today. All he knows is that after nightfall, his body drove his truck over to your neighbourhood and his feet carried him straight to your door.

Unsure of what type of reception he’ll receive if you open the door, Din doesn’t even know what he expects, only what he wants: you.

Your door opens with you already ready for bed, blinking at him with an unreadable expression. Din thinks he should speak first and lets Al buy him some time when he noses out, nuzzling his snoot into Din’s large hands. After giving your happy pup a few head rubs to show him how much he’s been missed, Din straightens up to look at you again; he opens his mouth to say something, though he doesn’t know what - and he never finds out because you kiss him.

You hadn’t expected to see Din before your planned confrontation, and you certainly didn’t think you’d see him at your door looking so soft and vulnerable. After he had dispensed some love to Al, the expression in Din’s eyes when he raised himself back up to his impressive height was that of a much smaller man. One who was unsure, ashamed.

To see Din like this takes all the wind out of the proverbial sails you had hoisted high over the last two days, the ones you had readied in anticipation of the fight you were bringing to his doorstep this week. And just like before, when faced with seeing Din in distress, your mind, heart and body ache to soothe and calm him - so you do what comes naturally and press your lips to his.

Din’s lips never leave yours. Not when you walk him inside your apartment and close the door, and not when he familiarly navigates the layout of your living room to sit on the couch and pull you down onto his lap. He won’t stop brushing his desperate mouth against your perfectly plush pout, the one he dreams about regularly, even as he murmurs the only two phrases he needs to know you understand:

I’m sorry, baby.

I love you, pretty bird.

You match Din kiss for kiss, “I know. I know, Din” as you undress first yourself, then the man whose touch you’ve been yearning for for nearly half a year and whose weight you long to be under again. Your body cries out, remembering the feel of the corded muscles of his strong arms and the comfort of his hard chest; your hands molds to Din’s body as they roam and explore, afraid if you release him he’ll be ripped away from you again. On Din’s part, even as his mouth becomes more insistent, his touch on your body remains gentle, reverent – where you’re urgent and possessive, he is worshipful. And still, he recites:

I’m sorry, baby.

I love you, pretty bird.

With Din owning your mouth, your moans of I know, I know, I know are swallowed and vibrate down into his chest - setting his heart on fire and quickening his pulse even as he kisses deeper and steals all your air.

Feeling him lick into your mouth, you whimper ‘Din, please’ and the sound of his name once again on your lips makes Din’s dick jump. He grabs you tight around the waist, holding you to him to continue fully exploring the open, moaning cavern of your mouth, conveying his devotion with each caress and massage of his tongue. How could he have ever let you go? You show Din that you don’t want him to do so ever again by meeting his every touch, every kiss, every guttural needy noise with a hungrier one of your own.

It’s been too long and your hearts and bodies have missed each other too much; Din is already hard and throbbing against where you’re wet and wanting. Everything is hurried, messy, and inelegant. You need each other and that’s all there is to it.

Overcome with your own greediness, you murmur, “Need you inside, baby.”

As Din’s entire body melts into a puddle at your words, every muscle in his broad frame relaxes and all his power and control evaporate in the face of his one and only fantasy coming to life; only snapped out of his euphoric state by the sensation of you smearing his leaking precum over his length with your soft hands - Din thinks he might come from this alone. He’s craved your touch every moment since that fateful night outside his apartment, but he holds back for the heaven he knows is to come when you line him up to your entrance and slowly sink down.

It’s really has been too long – Din’s too big and you’re too tight and there hasn’t been enough prep; it hurts. But somehow it’s welcomed - both of you needing it to hurt, wanting it to hurt, so you know it’s real.

“Nggghhhh – fuck, Din, so big,” you whine as he stretches you out - he’s bigger than you remember. He feels better than you remember.

“I know, pretty bird. But it’ll fit,” Din hums, “because you’re made for me.”

His sweet words belie the sting to your tight channel, but the joy that overflows from your heart straight to you core soon drowns out the pain; this is how it was always meant to be: you trusting your body to Din, and Din taking care of you. Slowly, slowly, your sheath yourself onto Din’s cock – fitted so close that you feel every thick vein and groove along your warm walls.

Din’s kisses are gentler now, tender and reassuring like his words, “Doing so good for me, pretty girl,” “You feel so perfect around me,” “Love this tight cunt, missed her so much.”

His praise causes your pussy to gush and your hands card through his soft curls appreciatively. Gazing into Din’s eyes lovingly, you coo back your own song, “Feels so good, daddy,” “God, I’m so full,” “Noone wrecks this pussy like you, baby.”

When you’re finally fully seated, with Din bottomed out inside you, his balls nestled perfectly under your ass, the two of you simply just rest. Countless minutes go by so you can relearn to breathe and Din thanks his lucky stars for the privilege of praying at your altar once more.

Fully blissed out and body trembling upon remembering its rightful place on Din’s cock, you whisper, “Din, please move.” And move he does.

Slowly and with the restraint of a saint, Din thrusts up to meet your tentative downward movements, dragging his cock deliciously in and out of your tight cunt, letting her suck him back in of her own volition. You wrap your arms around his neck and feel Din’s sensual kisses on your lips, down your neck, and at the hollows of your throat; the wet trail his mouth leaves behind causes an electric chill to run throughout your entire body, your hips bucking a little harder, a little more ambitious in response.

There’s no rush, the two of you have all the time in the world to enjoy your reunion, and yet there’s an urgency - a hunger to devour as much of one another as you can, both starved from your time apart. The need to make up for lost time takes over; every kiss of skin on skin is an apology and a promise, your declarations of love becoming louder and more unabashed, movements more fervent, frantic.

Din groans into your skin, “Pretty bird, not going to last. Missed you too much,” as he starts to punch up with an impressive force, driving his cock deeper into your cunt and reaching that spot that only he’s ever been able to find.

“Give it to me, daddy,” you mewl, barrelling towards to your own orgasm faster than you had expected, “Need it. Need you. I love you, I love you, I love you.” This is the first time you’ve said it back tonight, and the only time Din’s heard these sweet words in the musical lilt of your voice in last five mouths – this alone sends him on the fast track to the edge.

He snakes one hand between your bodies to find your already pulsating clit and starts to pen a long overdue love letter with his thumb. Din’s other arm pulls your body as close to his as possible, so you’re now pressed flushed against his warm chest, moving with him as one.

I’m sorry, baby. I love you, pretty bird. I love you.

I love you, Din. Missed you so much. I love you.

You come - teary eyes locked onto Din’s as he signs over his fate with an elegant signature on your clit. Your slippery nub kisses his thumb back just as hard, crying and begging for relief as you clench down from the onslaught of pleasure that only Din can give you. Din spills deep into you as your pussy chokes him, milking the euphoria of his release for all it’s worth. He’s in heaven. You’re his heaven.

Wordlessly, you and Din exchange soft smiles and besotted looks as you clean-up after; a string of never-ending tender kisses lead the two of you back to the couch where you lay down in Din’s arms, sated and pliant, soaking in the strength and sureness with which he holds you, “Din, we need to talk.”

“I know, pretty bird,” he’s ready to tell you everything, lay it all bare for you.

Propping yourself up on your elbow so you can look Din in the eye, you implore him to be honest with you, “You said you needed me to hate you. That it was the only way to keep me safe. What were you talking about?”

Din tells you about the photos that the Family received which had been received as threats and the various confrontations and incidents of harassment in the months following that confirmed them as such. He tells you how scared he’s been for you, and how guilty and sorry he is that you were ever caught up in his world in this terrifying way.

Forcing himself not to look away from your pretty face when he sees it line with fear, Din tells you that he never wanted you to feel frightened or for your life to be interrupted, “You’re safe, pretty bird, I promise. You’re well protected - the entire Fett Family is looking out for you. They love you as much as I do. The Family would never abandon you.”

“Just you then?” It wasn’t meant as a sarcastic or passive aggressive comment, but you just honestly can’t see what this had to do with why Din left you. If anything, wouldn’t it have made more sense for him to stay by your side?

Regardless of your meaning, Din looks pained at your question and averts his eyes in shame.

“I understand that you were afraid for me because of the threats, but if the Family was willing to protect me, I still don’t understand why you would need me to hate you to be safe?”

“You should never have been in danger at all, baby. The reason you’re a target is because of me. Whoever issued the threats only targeted you because… because, they knew how much you mean to me. How much I love you. It wasn’t enough just to protect you from the threat, I didn’t want you to be under threat at all. That’s the only way to guarantee you would be safe.”

You stroke Din’s face with your hand, and he leans in to your comforting touch and closes his eyes.

“If you hated me, then you would no longer be a worthy target. The person they really want to hurt is me, and if we weren’t together anymore, they can’t do that through you.” Din sighs, “But I’m so sorry, pretty bird. The way I went out about it was all wrong - hurting you like I did is inexcusable and it shattered my heart to do so. You didn’t deserve to think I cheated on you.”

Your heart softens and you lean in to lay gentle, sympathetic kisses to Din’s soft lips. Finally, finally you understand. Though you don’t excuse the hurt he caused, you can understand Din’s fallacious reasoning; in an odd way, it’s a relief to see him so unchanged – his actions ever consistent with his self-sacrificing nature and his conviction to take care of those he loves, to keep them safe. The only thing is, his was not the only heart he had sacrificed.

“I thought you never loved me,” you say in a small voice, “when I thought you had cheated on me, it made me question our entire relationship.”

“Oh, fuck, baby,” Din’s shame and self-anger triple upon hearing your words. He had expected you to be angry, to hate him for the lie he had you believe, but he never considered that you would have doubted what he felt for you prior to that horrible night. Secure in the depth of his own devotion and the truth of just how in love with you he was, Din had thought what was unshakeable to him would be the same for you; but of course, now that you’ve said it, it makes complete sense and he adds this egregious transgression against you to his long list of regrets, “I’m so fucking sorry. I never thought- oh, fuck. It never crossed my mind that you might ever doubt how so completely in love with you I’ve always been. From the moment I met you it was over for me, baby – you became the single most important person in my life. I live for you, pretty bird. I’m so sorry I ever made you feel any differently.”

Din looks at you with so much sincerity and desperation, you heart is unable to do anything but believe him. You know without a shadow of a doubt that Din loves you and moreover, that everything he’s done has been in the name of that love. And though you trust in his pure intentions, they’re misguided in a way that you have to make him understand. If the two of you are to have a chance again, you need honesty and openness, and Din has to have faith in that same love when things get tough.

You’re lightly scratching Din’s facial scruff the way you know he loves, wanting to just enjoy this affectionate moment a little longer before you dive into the more serious things you need to talk about when you both hear Din’s phone start to buzz incessantly.

Din reaches his long arm off the couch and easily finds his discarded pants and pulls out his phone, frowning when he sees the multiple notifications on his lock screen.

His entire body tenses as he reads Paz’s messages.

Hutt movement three blocks away from Lil’ Lady’s.

Woves confirms the group is growing.

Mods say traffic cams show more on the way.

Din feels a stab of fear tear through his chest before the horror of what he’s done settles like a boulder in his stomach.

For the five months that Din had left you alone, there hadn’t even been a hint of suspicious activity anywhere near you. No appearance of shady characters or any incidents of malfeasance, not a single one. You had been safe.

What had changed tonight? What could have possibly happened to incite a flurry of rival gang activity so close to your home when it had never previously been an issue?

It was him. What had changed is he had been weak. He had given in to his need for you, selfishly putting you in harm’s way. Din realizes he had been right: staying away from you had been keeping you safe. He gets up suddenly, the need to rectify his mistake overwhelming.

“Din?”

Din’s hurrying putting on his clothes and doesn’t answer you. He doesn’t hear you get up from the couch after him and grab a house cardigan from the back of one of the dining room chairs to throw over yourself, watching as he carries on to leave without saying a word.

“STOP!!”

You hardly ever yell. And you never slam your hand down on your dining table so hard and loud it hurts, but you need to get Din’s attention somehow. It works - Din’s shocked out of his automated movements and turns to face you.

“What are you doing, Din?” you look distressed, confused, but most of all, frightened by what you think you already know is happening.

“This was a mistake, pretty bird.”

His words cause you to recoil; your voice comes out tight, bordering on bitter, “What was a mistake, Din? Telling me you loved me, that you lived for me? Or sleeping with me? Tell me, which mistake do you mean?”

Din rushes forward; he’s fucking up all over, he can tell, and hurting you again is the very last thing he ever wanted to do, “No, baby – none of that was a mistake. Being with you tonight has been a happiness I never thought I’d feel again. Honestly, I didn’t think I deserved it and still don’t think I do. The mistake was me somehow thinking that everything was behind us. That I wouldn’t be putting your safety at risk by coming over here.”

He can’t possibly be doing this again, you’re incredulous, “You’re doing this again? You’re going to leave? And I don’t get a say in it?”

“Pretty bird, you don’t understand.”

“Make me understand, Din.”

“There’s something happening right now, a danger that’s closer to you than should ever be allowed. And it’s because I’m here. This is proof that I’m no good for you baby.”

“Din, how can you say that? I love you.”

“And I have to keep you safe because I love you, too.”

“What you’re doing is breaking my heart, Din. This isn’t the only way - you have to trust me.”

“This isn’t about trust, pretty bird, it’s about your safety.”

“Of course it’s about trust, Din! You don’t trust me to be able to handle some of the things in your life – things that you think I’m too delicate or ‘good’ for, whatever the fuck that means. You don’t trust me so you don’t tell me anything or let me make any decisions, and that’s really fucking condescending and hurtful. You have to trust me, Din! You have to trust that you can show me parts of yourself and your world that maybe aren’t perfect or you aren’t that proud of and that I’m not going to leave! You have to trust that I love you enough!”

The silence between the two of you is punctuated only by your shallow breathing from finishing your speech and the electric tension that now hums in the air. Something in Din’s brain is awakening, yelling at him that there’s a truth in your words that he hasn’t had the courage to face – that other than your safety, he’s been worried that bringing you fully into his world and telling you everything, sharing in all the fears and dark parts, would scare you away. That he’s been afraid that you would walk away, so he did it first.

Din doesn’t know if he’s ready to face this realization or its implications out loud, not when you’re looking at him with so much disappointment and anger. Not when the phone in his pocket continues to buzz non-stop.

You’re at your wit’s end and throw out ludicrously, “So, what? We stay apart until you deem it safe again? Then what, we’re allowed to date until the next time you think it’s safer for me if you leave? And then we just repeat this pattern forever?”

Din’s exasperated too, frustrated with the unexpected turn this evening has taken – at himself. He throws his hands up in the air, “I don’t know, okay? I just know it’s not safe for you to be my girl right now. And as for later? May not then either? Maybe you just don’t wait for me.”

You freeze, the retort on the tip of your tongue that you’re supposed to be a team and that Din doesn’t get to choose for the both of you, dissipates from your shock at his last words, “Wait. What do you mean ‘don’t wait for you’?”

Din doesn’t immediately clarify so you press on, “You would be okay with that? If I moved on with someone else? Is that what you want?”

Din wants to reassure you; it’s not what he meant, of course. His heart would shatter if you were with someone else; he had only meant that he knew it was terribly unfair for you to have to wait for this situation to resolve itself, and he didn’t want to force you to be or assume that you were okay with it – but it had come out wrong. He stops himself from explaining though; realizing with a punch to the gut that he could use this to give you a clean slate, a clean break from him. You would hate him again – but it would remove the temptation to come see you in secret like tonight, endangering your safety every time he was too weak to stay away from you. So, he says nothing.

You take his silence the way he intends, as confirmation that Din doesn’t want you anymore and your tears come fast and threaten to overflow. You’re angry, confused, and hurt. Again.

The barrier you had put up earlier when you so logically decided to figure out your feelings once you figured out the truth comes crashing down and you think you’re going to drown in the tidal wave of emotions that swell and rise with being so casually tossed away again. You feel like a fool, letting Din toy with your feelings (and your body) over and over.

“Din. Is that what you want? Do you just want us to be over?” you choke out.

Din’s expression is unreadable and he won’t make eye contact with you - but when he sighs, it’s the most devasting sound you’ve ever heard in your life.

Your cheeks are wet and you feel yourself shaking. The words that are blabbering out now hardly make sense and you don’t think you even mean half of them, but you aren’t thinking straight - you just know these words will sting and make Din feel as bad as you do right now, “Why did you come tonight, Din? For an easy fuck? You knew you would find guaranteed pussy here, didn’t you? I can’t blame you, I guess. I mean, if you know you always have a desperate slut you can use, someone who’s stupid enough to buy whatever lies you tell her to get her to give it up, why not, right?”

Suddenly aware of how exposed you are, you pull your cardigan tighter over your body and shrink away from Din.

Din reaches for you - this, he cannot have. He cannot have you reducing yourself to just a worthless fuck when you’re his sun. He loves you more than anything, would hang the moon for you; you’re the most incredible and precious thing in his life, “No, no… that’s not it. Please, pretty bird, don’t…”

You pull away from his outreaching hand and say in a flat, dead tone, “I’m not your pretty bird anymore.”

Even Din can see that he’s hit your limit - hurt you beyond repair and now you’ve shut down. Shut him out. Fighting ever fibre in his body to go to you, soothe you and try to reassure you of his love, he hangs his head, “No. You’re right… you’re not.”

The two of you stand in silence, facing each other but worlds apart, for what is probably only a minute but feels like forever. Finally, Din turns to the front door to leave; pausing just after turning the handle, he whispers, “I’m sorry”, before exiting your apartment and closing the door behind him.

Once in the hallway, Din hears the lock turn immediately, followed by the most devastating sound he’s ever heard. You’re sobbing, loud enough that he can hear it through the door and he wants more than anything to kick down the door and sweep you into his arms, take it all back - comfort you with kisses and lightly chastise you for even considering for a moment that he could ever stop loving you.

But he doesn’t. It’s better this way, Din tells himself.

The sound of your sobs follows Din as he races down the stairs, towards the danger that lurks too closer for comfort. He’s more than ready to take out his distress on the bastards who had deigned to look upon you as someone to threaten, to hurt - or just some unfortunate Hutts who found themselves in the wrong neighbourhood tonight. Din doesn’t much care. Blinking back his tears and steeling his resolve with clenched fists, all Din knows is you won’t be the only person he hurts tonight – you’re just the only one who doesn’t deserve it.

Exactly one week later, you storm into brunch still angry, exhausted and hurt from your altercation with Din the Sunday before; hot tears brim along your lash line from the humiliation of having slept with Din only for him to leave you again, and your frustration at his dismissal of any attempt to talk out your issues. The only sure-fire thing you’ve decided is that there will be no more secrets - no more half truths, no more protecting people from hard and ugly realities. Sure, you would have much preferred if this was the road upon which you and Din were embarking, but in lieu of that, you decide that you can come clean with your friends. You tell them about the Fett Family and Din’s old role, and what he seems to still do for the Family. You tell your friends about Poe, Boba, Cass, the Hutts and the Pykes, and the Mandos and the Mods. You tell them about all the security incidents from earlier in the year and the threats you only just learned of and about Din’s and your place in it all. You tell them about your run-in with Vanessa and how your date with Mark went and about sleeping with Din last week. You tell them everything that’s yours to tell and even somethings that aren’t because you’re done with pretending that these secrets are worth keeping and somehow worth your happiness.

Your friends are speechless; all the food, and shockingly the drinks, are untouched as you talk and only after you indicate you’re done with your recollection of how Din left you crying in your foyer, do they descend on you to offer their kind supportive words and loving hugs. Once everyone is settled back in their seats and people’s emotions have leveled out a bit, Rory asks,

“Do you still love him?”

It’s not the question you expected from her, or from any of your friends really, and it truly deflates you as you lean back in your chair to contemplate your response. The last week saw you primarily cataloguing Din’s transgressions against your heart; it’s a long list and it had kept your mind and heart fairly preoccupied. You’re furious at him… but did his foolhardy actions change the man you believed he was? The man you had loved? You answer only what you’re sure of,

“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t seem to matter to him what I think or feel. Din just does what he thinks is best.”

Your friends nod sympathetically, understanding you’re already fighting a seemingly endless battle between your head and your heart. They thoughtfully put forth their opinions in between bites of their now cold dishes:

“No matter what his reasoning is, it doesn’t give him the right to jerk you around in the name of ‘your safety’.”

“Does he have a point though? Is it dangerous to be with him? Are you scared?”

“Won’t the Family protect you? Why is he acting like he’s the only one who cares about you?”

“I don’t like that he hurt you on purpose with that Vanessa nonsense. That lie was so elaborate.”

“How many times does he think he can do this to you?”

“You deserve someone who is honest with you. Someone who will treat you like an equal partner in everything.”

“He loves you so much. It’s always been clear to us that you’re his whole world, babe.”

You agree with it all – these same thoughts have been running laps in your mind since the night Din closed your door behind him. Din’s martyr-like approach to your safety did not sit well with you, especially when it sacrificed the wellbeing of your heart without so much as a consultation of your feelings; it’s crystal clear to you now that entirely too many lies and secrets had been justified and tolerated in the last several months and even your relationship prior. Yes, you know how you feel about what Din did.

But how do you feel about him? To a certain degree, you know you still love Din, but things just aren’t that simple anymore. Given everything that’s happened, how can you feel about him? You don’t know.

6 months ATN

Waiting until there’s a break in the traffic, you cross the street quickly, heading straight for the bookstore across from your office building. Right away, you spot the display you’re looking for: the centre table for “Current Hot Reads” with Bea’s book right in the middle - you can’t help but grin widely. Picking up four copies, you busy yourself for a few minutes straightening up the display - strategically stacking and propping up copies of your friend’s book so it stands out in a pleasing manner amongst the other titles. When you stand back, satisfied, to review your work, a kind voice behind you says, “Are you the author, dear?” You turn to see an older woman in a delightfully ostentatious fur coat smiling at you.

Unable to keep the pride out of your voice, you beam, “Ha ha ha! No, one of my best friends is! I’m actually buying these as gifts to give out to our mutual girlfriends at dinner tonight!”

“Oh, that’s so lovely dear! What a good friend you are!” the lady smiles, “What is the book about?”

“It’s a modern romance, childhood best friends turned lovers. The first in her series!” you gush, ready to talk Bea up to the high heavens.

“Oh lovely! My granddaughter loves romance novels, maybe I should get it for her?”

For a moment you simply imagine what the granddaughter might think when reading the smut her sweet nana bought her and you do your best to hold in your chuckle, “Tell you what. I’m going to buy an extra copy and leave it at the cashier for you. If you decide you don’t want it or prefer to buy a copy, just tell the cashier to pass it on to the next person who’s interested.”

“Oh dear, you don’t have to do that!”

“I know! But I want to! I can’t tell you how much it delights me to support my friend. Please ask your granddaughter to help spread the word about the book and the author. I know she’ll love it, it really is just that good,” you enthuse.

The older woman squeezes your hand in thanks as you pick up a fifth copy of Bea’s book; leaving her to read the jacket summary as you head to the cashier. After giving the cashier the instructions for the last copy, you give the display another quick once over before leaving the bookstore, heading directly to dinner with a spring in your step.

---

Din sees you the moment you walk in. For some reason, maybe a sixth sense, he had looked up at the bookstore front door before it opened, and there you were. He hasn’t seen you since the night he left you crying in your apartment, the same night he sent half of the Hutt enforcements to the hospital; when he accepted this surveillance post for the day, he had half hoped he would see you. You’re just as stunning and bright as the you he keeps in his memories, if not more so.

He had also seen the display of Bea’s books when he walked in and already picked up a copy to buy in support; he figured he would give it to Lisa. Din watches you rearrange the display from behind the shelves, trying not to be a creep but unable to take his eyes off of you – wistfully, he recalls seeing you do the same thing on the day you first met; it’s no less charming now than it was then. Listening with a smile as you talk excitedly to the older lady about Bea’s book, Din’s heart swells when he hears you offer to buy her granddaughter a copy. You’re still you. Sweet, generous, unassuming, and unflinchingly kind.

God, he misses you.

He’s been trying to put you out of his mind, of course; positive that he’s eradicated not only any goodwill or affectionate feeling you may have held for him a few months ago, but also any chance he had of ever being with you again. Whereas before he kept away for your safety and his own self punishment, he does so now out of self preservation. To steel himself for his future without you.

Din does, however, allow himself one photo of you. It’s one that Paz took the night of the fight with Rotta Hutt. Taken right after he’s scooped you up ringside, the shot shows only the back of Din’s head, but your face is on full display, filled with joy and adoration. He looks at it everyday; trying not to long for you more than he already does, Din comes to regard it as motivation of sorts – this is what makes all his misery worth it, he thinks to himself. You. Happy.

And while he can’t bring himself to delete his photos of you off his phone, or even erase your old messages, Din never looks at them either. He doesn’t deserve to. Especially not the dirty texts and photos; he doesn’t have a right to see you that way anymore - as much as he misses you, Din won’t violate your privacy. But on the days when the pressure, stress and Din’s own loneliness lead him to release his frustration while in the shower, he imagines a soft hand touching him and knows it’s yours. The voice that he hears telling him how good it feels, he knows is yours. The moans that ring in his ears as he furiously fucks his fist can only be yours. And when he comes, choking out broken pants of I love you, I love you, I fucking loving you so much, those words are for you and you only.

Seven months ATN

Opening your guest room closet, you sigh to yourself.

It’s time.

You’ve been avoiding doing this, but not only is it long overdue, you’re also embarrassed at how anxious you’ve been to attempt this task. It’s been two months since Din left you crying on your knees in the front foyer of your apartment and seven since you fled his apartment after believing he had cheated on you. In that hazy first week, you had gone around the apartment grabbing anything that belonged to him and stuffed it into what ended up being an overflowing bin that you then shoved into the back of the guest room closet. Out of sight, out of mind.

But you have guests coming to stay next week, and moreover, it bothers you how rude it is to have kept these belongings that aren’t yours. It was one thing when Din had been a lying cheating bastard; but now that you know he hadn’t had any ill intent and was as much of a victim of his poor decisions as you are, it doesn’t feel right to hang on to these items. Bringing home some flat packing boxes from the work mailroom, you assemble them first, trying to prolong actually having to go through your ex’s things.

Stop being a chicken shit, you chide yourself, it’s been months. Get over it and get it over with. You pull the bin out of the closet and his smell, Din’s smell, immediately hits you when you when you start to take out the clothes. You close your eyes and let yourself breathe in the familiar scent. It’s as inviting as you remember and immediately brings his handsome visage to your mind. When you open your eyes, they’re filled with tears. Dammit.

You force yourself to work through your tears. Fighting it at first but eventually allowing yourself to recall memories associated with Din’s items, you feel and expunge all the emotions you had hidden away like you had these belongings. It’s cathartic and freeing, and once you’ve shed the tears you need, you make quick work of the task. When you’ve filled the last box, you write a short note apologizing how long it’s taken to return these items and quickly tape up the boxes so that the contents are once again out of your sight.

---

The following weekend, you and Katie take a cab with the boxes to Din’s neighbourhood. You don’t think you’re ready to see Din in person, but you think you can handle dropping off the boxes… at Peli’s. Katie helps you carry the boxes from the taxi into the drycleaner’s and you ring the little bell Peli leaves out when she’s in the back working with the machines. You see her bushy crown of curls before you do her inviting face, the smile she smiles when she sees you is brighter than the sun. You feel warmed just seeing her again.

“Well, look who it is,” Peli grins, eyes full of genuine cheer and relief, “long time no see.”

Nodding, your heart feels a tug with how much you’ve missed Peli and all the other friends you made through Din who you haven’t seen in months, “Too long, Peli!”

“Glad you can admit you missed me,” she teases, holding absolutely nothing against you, “what can I do for you? Don’t tell me those boxes are full of drycleaning?”

“Oh… no. Could I ask you for a favour?” sheepish that the very first time you see Peli after such a long absence, you’re asking something her.

Peli’s good nature isn’t phased for even a second, “Of course! Anything for you, love.”

Then as if some higher being heard your request before you had a chance to speak it, Paz walks through the front door of the drycleaners. He’s just as surprised to see you as you are him, but readily leans in to give you and Katie welcoming hugs.

“Hi Lil’ Lady. Whatcha doing here?”

You gesture to the boxes and look between Peli and Paz, “Just wanted to drop off Din’s things but… I didn’t feel up to going to Mando’s. Do you think I could trouble you to get these boxes to him?”

Peli looks shocked, and for a moment you wonder if it’s possible that she didn’t know that you and Din haven’t been together for over half a year now. Paz saves you from the potentially long and awkward explanation by nodding with some sympathy, “No problem, I’ll carry them over.”

“Thank you, Paz.”

“No problem, Lil’ Lady,” Paz gives you a smile that looks regretful, maybe even sad.

You turn to go, but suddenly feel compelled to make one last request, “Please don’t tell Din you saw me? I don’t want him thinking about me anymore.” You say this without any malice or bitterness, though you’re not convinced it comes out that way.

When going through Din’s belongings, you were initially hard hit by the waves of sadness and grief from the loss of your relationship; but after letting the ache of your heart dull, you had surprising found comfort in a barrage of happy memories:

Din’s favourite basketball team shirt you slept in. You had teased him mercilessly for how often he wore it, but showered him in compliments at how good he looked in those loud team colours every time. When you explained to him what Pima cotton was and delighted in a sports shirt feeling so luxuriously soft, you noticed that Din started leaving it for you to wear for sleep – first only at his apartment, but before long, he “allowed” the shirt to migrate to your place.

That lime green sweater he wore the first time he was invited to girl’s Sunday brunch. Bea had wanted to introduce the new guy she was dating and thought that having another boy at the table might make it less intimidating. Din had gone and immediately clocked Gideon to be an asshole, but somehow managed to convey a polite, yet protective vibe throughout the meal. When Bea broke up with that odious man a few weeks later, Din, invited back to brunch and coincidentally wearing the same sweater had been so supportive (“You deserve better than that self-absorbed blow hard”), even offering to “take care of him” for her. You had quickly refused on Bea’s behalf, knowing what “take care” might actually mean, but it had cheered her up so much nonetheless.

His cozy oversized patterned jacquard cardigan that Din wore whenever it was nippier out than usual. Large enough that it could envelope you while being worn, Din took every opportunity to do so - pressing you against his hard chest while wrapping the front around you to keep the chill away when you were out at the farmers’ market, waiting for the subway, or just standing on the sidewalk while Al finished sniffing his favourite spots.

And more – all the clothes and items you packed away had at least one memory associated with Din where he had made you feel warm, cared for, cherished.

How grateful and lucky you were that Din had loved you the way he did.

Yes, he had broken your heart, but you know that he himself didn’t get away unscathed – Din had also been destroyed by your breakup. Having long since recognized the immature and empty things said during your last fight as your own emotional lashing out, you saw with more clarity how your own hurt and pain had sliced through Din’s already battle damage armour. To be honest, you regret your words and how you left things with Din; though the way he did it was all wrong, Din had only ever loved you, cared for you and put you first in the way that he believed matter the most. And he did so without fanfare, pomp or circumstance - expecting neither accolades nor acknowledgment, or even a hint of self satisfaction.

Your heart truly goes out to Din. He so willingly carries the weight of the responsibility to take care of others, to put their well being over his own wants and desires; he sees it only as his duty and a mark of his honour to put himself last. Din never gives himself leave to be selfish, despite being the most deserving for exactly that reason; as long as others are well taken care of, you know that Din would never complain or wish for more for himself. And while your heart has done its share of mourning for yourself, it also breaks for Din – you know with certainty that he’s as devastated as you are, and yet, he also bears the guilt of having been the cause of your respective heartbreak; likely believing himself undeserving of any sympathy or comfort.

You remember what Boba had once said of Din, that he’s a caretaker through and through. He attends to the needs of those around him and always has – thinking of the betterment of others, sometimes, and possibly even often, at the expense of his own. But Din’s always done so happily - it was his duty and he performed it consistently, admirably. And you remember that you had promised Boba that you would take care of Din right back.

Refusing to add to Din’s already heavy burden when it came to your breakup, you don’t want him to think about you more than he has to when he gets his belongings back; you know he will only spiral into more self blame wondering if you’re still mad or how much you hate him. He will undoubtedly think about how you might be hurting, and then feel regret and guilt, disappointment or whatever else that eats at him.

So, you make Paz promise not to tell Din that he saw you, to say that Peli had called him over to get the boxes and you were already gone when he arrived. The fierce look in your eyes tells Paz that you won’t relent and he acquiesces – you were prepared to fight him if necessary, the urge to protect Din where you still can burning brightly within your heart.

Quiet and heartfelt goodbyes are said and longer than needed hugs are dispensed before you and Katie leave Peli’s, arms now empty. As the cab pulls away, you wave what you sadly think might be your last goodbye to two people you’ve also come to love and will miss terribly.

9 months ATN

Seeing Peli and Paz at the drycleaner’s is the last contact you have with Din’s world.

After nearly the better part of a year, it no longer feels strange that there are facets of a life you had come to embrace, that are no longer familiar - like bringing baked goods down to Mando’s, or being part of the celebratory group when a Mando’s boxer wins a title. Making a normal portion size of garlic knots is once again the norm.

Periodically, it might feel unsettling when you remember that you are or were, at least at one time, under threat, and that there are unseen eyes on you, both friendly and unfriendly. But you never see anyone or any actual evidence of this so there’s not much you can dwell on. Who’s to say the circumstances of the situation haven’t changed or if you’re even on anyone’s radar anymore? It’s likely you’ve been forgotten by now and you leave these thoughts at that.

With time, you go from thinking of Din constantly, to less frequently, and now only periodically. You don’t think you’ll ever quite forget Din. He had loved you fiercely, of that you were certain, and in turn, you had loved him back just as hard. He was undoubtedly, a great love of your life. You don’t think that type of connection is easy to find, nor would you attempt to try and do so again – the way Din had seen you so completely and how you had felt being his was not a feeling you think you’ll let go of any time soon.

But the price for that type of love was one that you hadn’t been prepared to pay – adherence to some creed or code of honour that was willing to sacrifice your heart wasn’t something you could open yourself up to again. Not even for that kind of love. But it didn’t mean you couldn’t look back on it with fondness and remember Din as a man you admired adamantly and would continue to hold up as one of the best men you’ve ever known.

He was kind. Protective. Caring and loyal.

The strength of his character and his generous nature live on in your grateful heart.

Some of your happiest memories will always be ones that you shared with Din. He had, as was his highest priority, made you feel safe and cherished; despite how it all ended, you knew his motivations and the intentions of his heart to be pure - he had only ever wanted the best for you. Din’s easy way of making you laugh, supporting you in all your endeavors and of lightening your mental and physical load, all while making you feel like the most special person in any room, were not easily forgotten. Nor his integrity, considerate nature and the gentleness of his touch. A lover and a fighter – Din was a rare combo indeed.

You think you’ll love Din until your dying day, but you can’t pine for him anymore.

Had you forgiven him? Hardly. But forgiveness wasn’t necessary.

Forgiveness implied that you needed something to change, to be acknowledged, in order to move forward, and that just simply wasn’t the case. You neither forgave him or were looking to forgive Din; you didn’t expect there to be a continuation of your story and so, as far as you were concerned, neither of you owed anything further to the other, including forgiveness. You’re at peace with where the pages of your love story have permanently fallen open; having reread those finally passages a million times, you’ve worked through your grief of having to put Din and your relationship behind you - what remains is only a nostalgic sort of affection and maybe wistfulness.

Your life has gone on without him, but it had always been full before you met Din and it remains so after him: full of friends, hobbies, Alfredo, accomplishment and pride in your work, and everything else your undoubtedly privileged life has to offer. That’s probably the best word to describe it. These days, when you do think of Din, it can be without bitterness or disappointment, because you do so only with genuine gratitude; not everyone will have the good fortune of being loved so wholly, so generously and so fearsomely, albeit it had only been for a little while. Yes, it takes no great effort to admit: it had been a privilege to be loved by Din Djarin.

It’s been a good day. Great even. All your meetings finish on time (!), and no one on your team, yourself included, had extra work assigned at the last minute – you’re all able to leave ON TIME.

Stepping out of your office building, you can’t quite believe it – you haven’t seen this side of 5:30 since… you were a junior? No, that’s an exaggeration, but it’s been a long time for sure.

You and your colleagues exchange excited hugs, marveling at your luck; a few even joke that you should all prepare to pay for this tomorrow before laughing and each going in your separate directions.

Pausing for a moment where you stand, you contemplate maybe popping into the bookstore across the street before heading home when your eyes are drawn to a hulking figure that sits on one of the courtyard benches directly facing your office. Despite his size and striking profile, the man’s presence isn’t terribly imposing, but it is a wonder that you hadn’t notice him until now.

You lock eyes with the man, not ready to believe he’s really there, when he gives you a tentative smile along with a small wave of the bouquet of peonies that he holds in his hand.

Din.

Thanks so much again to anyone who has read this far in the series with me - I love you all so much! Your kind words and encouragement really motivated me to finish this chapter a bit earlier than I had anticipated! I'm still on the cruise, so I'm just posting this when the ship's wifi is strong 🤣 so adding a few tags for those who have expressed an interest in the story (if you don't want to be tagged, please tell me!):

@tuquoquebrute @furiousmushroom @cheekychaos28 @72scsuze @nerdieforpedro

@toobsessedsstuff @whirlwindrider29 @inept-the-magnificent @mellymbee @that1nerd-20

@hipabbster23 @bitccchmood @bigbutchenergee @rainbowcat164 @the-strawberrythief

@johnssherlock221 @misstokyo7love @vivian-pascal @florxdexcerezo @fanficlover1414

@rarachelchel @heartbrokenlilbitch-nef @jeewrites @sunnytuliptime @kulekehe

@bebsjo @yopossum @cartonkid1200 @rav3n-pascal22

#din djarin #modern!din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #modern au

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trippinsorrows · 4 months

Text

with me + part five

authors notes: hi! you guys are so freaking awesome and sweet and like gawww, so grateful for such kind words and support!

so i realized that i used the wwe names for jimmy, jey, naomi, etc. that was my bad. i'll be using their real names moving forward for the sake of flow and consistency.

also keep forgetting to state that current timeline is 2023. like, this chapter is fall 2023. everything, so far, post breakup for joe and reader has been 2023. i plan to follow that timeline, so make of that what you will.

i hope this chapter isn't too boring to people!

warnings: fluff, language, suggestive content

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

words: 5.7k

tags: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wonderingfashion

“So, are we just going to continue to ignore each other?”

You’re not sure how, but you sense his presence long before he even says anything. And instantly, your mood is dampened, not that you were in the best spirits to begin with. You didn’t get much sleep the night before, for reasons you cannot fathom. But, it’s annoying as hell, especially when you have an ex turned fuck buddy who can’t seem to get a fucking clue ready to confront you outside of your daughter's preschool.

Sighing heavily, you pull out your phone to play around with your lock screen, because you really don’t have anyone you need to message in this moment. But, he doesn’t need to know that. “Not now, Amir.”

“Because you’re so busy?”

“Because I don’t care.” One thing you’ve learned about yourself over the years is that once you’re annoyed with someone, there’s no filter on your mouth and you cannot be held liable for what comes out of it. “Now, please, go away.”

He just looks at you, sun shining down on his waves and chocolate complexion. It’s unfortunate outside of his looks that he’s an overall trash partner. Decent friend. Shitty boyfriend. “You always do that shit, you know? Pull and then push. It was kinda cute when we were kids. Now, it’s just annoying.”

You were standing outside of Callie’s preschool, waiting for the kids to be dismissed, waiting for your little girl to come running out with a smile on her face, request on the tip of her tongue. It’s usually something small like wanting to show you what she learned in school. Lately, it’s been the same.

Can I call Joe?

A part of you feels bad for the amount of calls he probably gets in one day just from Callie alone. She took your offer for her to call him whenever he was available to another degree, not that he minded. He took as many as he could, listening to her talk and talk about whatever happened to be on her mind in that moment. And you let her.

What kind of mother would you be if you stopped her from talking to her dad? Even if she doesn’t know that’s who he is.

It’s been almost two weeks since he left, and she clearly misses him. You often overhear her asking about when he’s coming again. You also receive those questions. It’s something you and him discuss via text but haven’t landed on a date yet.

Communicating with Joe is also something that’s still an adjustment. It’s not as difficult or uncomfortable, because it’s almost entirely about Callie, but still.

“If that’s the case, why do you bother?” You manage a less insensitive tone, even if you know good and well you’ve never led this man on. Amir has always heard and believed what he wanted to believe. That was the problem. He never listened to you.

“Because I fucking care about your annoying ass, duh.”

His delivery, the tone, and cadence. You laugh. It’s probably inappropriate at the moment, but it does bring a smile to his face as well. “Softie.”

He moves closer to you, arms crossed. “I’m serious, Y/N. You know how I feel about you. How I’ve always felt about you.”

Leaning against your car, you respond as calmly as you can, “and you know I’ve always made it clear I’m not looking for anything more. We had our time, Amir. It didn’t work out. Now we just help each other get off. I don’t know why you keep trying to make it more than what it is.”

“A date. One date,” he implores. A waste of time, because your answer is no. It’s been no and will continue to be no. “You haven’t even given ‘adult’ us a chance.”

There’s a headache in your near future, one that’s reminiscent of past ones only Amir seems to induce. It’s interesting how he went from indifferent asshole to clingy asshole. You almost miss the earlier version.

Chocolate was supposed to be good for the soul, so why was he so draining to yours?

“Amir…..” You try to pick your words carefully and be mindful of your tone. “This is getting real old. I think we need to stop messing around, because we’re clearly not on the same page.” The next part is something you probably shouldn’t share, but you call yourself trying to be open and clear. “Calista’s dad is back, and we’re trying to navigate coparenting, so—”

“What?” He stops you, shock written over his handsome face. “Are you serious? You’re letting that motherfucker back in ya’ll life?”

This time, it’s his tone that jumps, accusatory and harsh. You immediately grow defensive. “You don’t know him.”

“God, why do you defend him like this? Is it that Stockholm Syndrome shit? He left you. He left you and his kid. What kind of man does that? And you’re just letting him back in? Just gonna jump back on his dick? Letting him around Callie? She’s old enough now to remember when he decides to leave again. I don’t get how you don’t see that. You her mama. You supposed to look out for her.”

And now, you’re done trying to be nice, trying to be mindful that he’s still another human being with feelings. Because one thing you never have and never will tolerate is someone insinuating you’re not looking out for your daughter. You’re not perfect, but you know that you’re a devoted, dutiful mother.

“It’s obvious comprehension isn’t your strong suit, which I should have known based off the fact that I always had to help your dumbass do your homework back when we were in school.” All bets….off. “My baby? My life? My pussy? All my business. You don’t get to judge the decisions I make for my child nor the role that her father has in her life. That’s between me and him. Keep your nose out my fucking business. Don’t worry about me hitting you up anymore. That’s dead.”

Your rose will do just fine. Hell, there’s gotta be at least one other eligible bachelor in town you could fuck if absolutely need be. But, you know damn well you won’t be messaging Amir anymore. He comes with too much baggage. It’s not worth it. You refuse to let a nigga whose height starts with a 5 stress you out.

True to his nature, he starts gaslighting you. Typical Amir. “There you go overreacting and shit.”

“No, I’m not. You’re trying to question my parenting when you don’t know shit about shit.”

He sucks his teeth, rolling his eyes. This was why people used to say you had a temper in high school. Because of him. Because he loved to tell people what you said but never what he did. Always tried to make you feel crazy. Truth be told, you’re stupid for even opening that door with him again, even if it’s just for sex.

“Whatever, Y/N.” He turns to walk back over to his car. You really wish his damn sister would change her work schedule so she can pick up her son instead of this asshole. You’ll catch a case fucking with his dumbass. “I’ll wait for your text.”

He’ll be waiting. “Fuck you, Amir.”

You should be more mindful of your language at a damn preschool, but Amir has managed to get under your skin, something that hasn’t happened since you were in college. You know a good part of it is because you’re sleep deprived, but you also know it’s partially because of his dig at Joe.

You understand the optics seem to indicate that he’s a deadbeat, but you’ve expressed to Amir countless times that it was a complicated situation. He didn’t know the specifics, but you made it clear Joe didn’t abandon you or Callie. That’s just the narrative Amir keeps running with, and now with Joe being back in your life and especially in Callie’s life, you’re not gonna let it continue.

“Mommy!” Your head snaps to see and feel Callie run up to and hug her body against your leg. “Boo!”

Shit. Did she hear any of that? You hope not and paste on a smile that’s hopefully authentic enough to sell that everything is fine. “Callie Bear.” You lean down and pick her up, kissing her cheek. “Did you have a good day?”

She nods and starts explaining the activities while you buckle her into her carseat, trying your best to calm down and not give away your high stress levels in that moment. Callie is super perceptive, and you don’t want to ruin the obviously great day she’s had.

And sure enough, as you’re putting on your seatbelt and starting up the car, the golden question is shouted with pre-excitement.

“Can I call Joe when I get home?”

Smiling at her through the rearview mirror, you answer, “yes, you can.”

In the almost two weeks that have passed since Joe’s departure, not one day has passed that Callie doesn’t asks to call Joe or just outright helps yourself to her iPad to call him. Sometimes several times a day during the weekends. And she’ll talk to him for as long as she can, as long as he’s able to hold a conversation with her. You’ll give it to him, he’s done an exceptional job handling all of it. On some level, you wonder if you should set some restrictions or time parameters, but how do you limit how much a daughter interacts with her father?

Callie rejoices at your approval and requests for you to put on the Disney playlist you made specifically for her on Spotify.

The drive, no more than 10 minutes, consists of the two of you singing along to a few Disney tunes. It’s a bit of a tradition between you, a way to bond via your shared love of Disney. A love that ties not only you to her but to the women before you. Your mom and grandma.

Arriving to your apartment complex, you decide to leave your work bag in the car. It’s Thanksgiving break. You most likely won’t do any work until the day or two before having to return.

You do carry Callie on your hip and swing her bag around your shoulder, walking the two of you up to the second floor. Sometimes, you regret not accepting the apartment they had available on the first floor. The older you get, the less your joints like to cooperate, your almost 15 years of cheer probably taking a toll on your body.

And just age in general.

But your regret quickly turns to a level of gratitude when you reach your door.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Dropping Callie to the floor, she’s of the complete opposite reaction, gasping and smiling broadly.

“Look mommy, more boxes!”

The smile is strained but you manage to maintain it, sticking the key in the door, unlocking and pushing it open.

She walks in, and you place her bag on the floor near the door, one foot keeping it open. “What do you think it is?” She asks as you pick them up and bring them inside, kicking the door closed behind you.

You know exactly what it is. What it all is.

Gifts.

From Joe.

In his absence, you’ve had several deliveries waiting outside your door when you got home from work and picking Callie up. And all of them were for Callie, gifts of variable nature but all of them things she loves. Disney, stuffed animals, dolls. Essentially anything that could make a 4 year old feel like she’s won the lottery.

She’s literally bouncing on her toes, already with her kids scissors in her hands.

When the hell did she grab those?

“Can I open them, please? Please?”

A part of you wants to say no, save them for christmas gifts, though you’re almost entirely certain he’ll have another set of gifts for her then. And it seems almost cruel to make her wait over a month when she knows there are presents waiting for her.

“Sure, but….” You scamper into the kitchen and grab your adult size scissors, returning and showing her. “Let mommy cut them, and then you open them.”

You don’t need this child accidentally cutting herself. Again, medical bills are not in the budget, especially around the holidays. Money’s already tight to some extent.

Not that….not that it’d be much of an issue with Callie. You’d never fix your moth to ask Joe for anything, especially not financially, but if it was something involving your daughter, you’re pretty sure your tune would change. It would still bother you to ask for help, but you know he’d have zero qualms helping you out.

He’d probably pay for it in its entirety.

Your proposition pleases her. “Okay!” She places her scissors on the nearest flat surface and sits down, legs crossed, bouncing impatiently.

Chuckling, you glide your scissors across, careful not to open anything. You want to save that moment for her and your plan.

Once done, you place the scissors on the kitchen island and reach for your phone. “Wait before you open, baby.”

Immediately, she frowns and scowls, “whyyyyyy.”

Rolling your eyes, you sit on the floor too to be at her eye level and open Snapchat. “Okay, now.”

You hit record and watch intermittently through and outside of the screen as she opens the boxes, smile permanent and excitement palpable. She especially gets excited when she pulls out a freaking box of the new Little Mermaid and all of her sisters. More….dolls.

“Look, mommy!!!” She then grabs a doll who has a surprisingly similar complexion and curl pattern to hers, holding it against her face. “She looks like me!”

“She does,” you agree, realizing it’s a customized American Girl doll. Damn. Those things can run up to $200. You weren’t stupid, knowing Joe’s probably spent more money on Callie alone in two weeks than you’ve spent all year, but just how much has he spent?

It’s when she opens the final box, surrounded by nothing but toys and packaging that you’re already dreading having to stuff all this in your trash bin, “what do you say, baby?”

Callie hugs the American Doll close to her chest and directs to the camera, “thank you, Joe!” She gasps and adds on, “I miss you, but mommy said I can call you tonight!”

You hold back your giggle and agree, adding, “after she helps mommy clean up all this.”

Her smile drops, pout returning, “I hate cleaning.”

Snickering, you mutter, “you and me too, sis.”

You end the video, save it and enter Joe’s chat to attach the video, adding a message.

You: You’re spoiling her, Joe. 😫 This is the third delivery this week alone.

You’re able to clean up some of the packaging and throw it away before your phone chimes with his response. Callie has grabbed the amount you expected her to grab and discard. Her attention span is trash at the moment. She’s a child surrounded by toys. It’s expected.

Joe: She's my little girl. Of course, I’m gonna spoil her.

Joe: There should be another one by the weekend. If not, let me know.

You sigh aloud, this man is gonna have your place looking like freaking KB Toys.

You: Omg

You: ….You know I live in an APARTMENT, right? Just where the hell am I supposed to put all of this stuff?

It’s sweet he’s so keen on gifting her these things, but he also has to realize you’re not living in a mansion in Malibu. And despite having a child who leaves messes wherever she goes, you do your best to keep your place tidy.

If you didn’t know Joe, didn’t see how easily he connected with Callie, you’d maybe accuse him of trying to “buy” her love. But, you know that’s not the case, know that he clearly just wants to make her happy. You just hope he knows that he does that all by himself, no gifts needed.

Joe: She has a whole playroom.

You: Yes. Playroom, not Toys-R-Us.

Joe: 🤷🏽‍♂️

You: 🙄 You’re aggravating.

He doesn’t say anything after that, so you decide to finish cleaning because at some point your child wandered off, most likely to her playroom to add all her new stuff with her slightly new stuff. Taking advantage of the alone time, you also decide to text your mom to figure out thanksgiving plans. Specifically, what drink, dessert, and/or condiments she wants you to bring because you damn well know she won’t ask you to cook.

She still hasn’t forgiven you for that accidental fire that one year.

And it’s when you’re sitting on the sofa, also starting to think about black friday plans that your mind wanders, your anxiety grows out of nowhere.

You’ve taken the approach to not have any say in Joe’s relationship with Callie, to intervene only when absolutely necessary. And as that hasn’t hasn’t occurred, you’ve not done so. You let him and her do their thing. But a small part of you wonders if you should put some parameters around Callie. She calls him several times a day, Joe, who spends more time on the road than there are days in the year.

You know he wants to establish a relationship with her, but that can be done with boundaries. Anxiety getting the best of you, you grab your phone and shoot him a text.

You: Is it okay if she calls you today? I know it’s been a lot, and if too much, just let me know. I’ll talk to her.

His reply comes almost immediately this time around.

Joe: She can call me 100 times. I don’t care. I wanna talk to her.

And instantly, the anxiety is almost non-existent. Deep down, you know this is what he wants. He wants to have interaction with her, and incessant Facetime calls are the only option with his crazy schedule, so it’s what he takes. It’s what he wants.

Pleased and no longer stressing over an issue that was never an issue, you lock your phone and place it back at your side. A quick glance at the clock reminds you that it’s almost time for Callie’s bath.

A couple minutes later, your phone dings with a text notification. From Joe.

You open it right away.

Joe: This weekend. Don’t tell her. I wanna surprise her.

You have to read it a couple of times before it registers. He’s coming back in town. This weekend. As in less than two days. You’re excited at this, happy as well. For Callie. But also, for yourself. Why? You haven’t a clue, well, maybe there’s a slight clue, but you don’t want to acknowledge that right now.

You simply want to focus on the fact that you’re happy your daughter will be happy her dad is town.

Who cares that you will be too.

________

Joe’s just walked out the bathroom, having showered and almost entirely prepped for bed when his phone rings.

Moving over to the hotel nightstand, he’s surprised when he sees Callie’s smiling face filling his screen. A glance at the clock in the corner of his phone reads 11:06, which means it’s 9:06 her time. Well past her bedtime. What is she doing up?

Curious, and regardless, he answers the phone. It takes a second for the connection to finalize when it does, he’s instantly smiling, mostly because it’s Callie but also because of her setup.

It’s obvious she’s under a blanket, a flashlight in the corner illuminating the space, a stuffed animal in her lap.

She’s the first to speak, her voice both loud and hushed in a way only she can do. “hi!”

“Hi, sweetheart.” He can’t help but ask almost immediately, “what are you doing up?” As he told you, he’d talk to her 24/7 if he could. And even though this call is unexpected and appreciated, she’s also a 4-year-old kid who needs her sleep.

Her little shoulders lift in a shrug. “I can’t sleep.”

Nodding, he follows up with, “where’s mommy?”

“Sleeping,” she answers with a level of disappointment. “I don’t wanna wake her up. She had a bad day.”

“Really?” Joe moves around so he’s laying on the bed, on his side, phone propped on the nightstand. “How do you know?”

“Cause–cause she was yelling at Mr. Amir, and–and he was yelling at her too.”

Joe hasn’t a clue why, but that instantly upsets him. Who the fuck is this Amir person, and who the hell does he think he is to raise his voice at you? Around Callie of all people.

“Who is Mr. Amir?” Joe hates asking her all of these questions, but it’s also hard not to.

“The basketball coach at the school for big kids.” She’s caressing the fur of the stuffed animal in her lap. “Aunt Mariah said he was mommy’s boyfriend when she was a big kid.”

“Really.” It’s not really a question as much as it is a general statement. Joe doesn’t know why he’s suddenly annoyed, not with Callie, but the entire situation. And definitely this Amir person even more now. He’s an ex. He dated you. It shouldn’t make him feel any type of way, but it does, and he hates that shit.

He hates a man he’s never even met.

“I don’t like Mr. Amir,” Callie suddenly announces with a scowl. Same, kid. Same. Joe looks at her, seeing so much of you in her right now. He knows you’ve mentioned how you see a lot of him in Callie, but when she’s glowering like this, she’s 100% her mama’s daughter. “He made mommy mad today.”

“Has he ever been mean to you?” Joe has to ask, because he’s also realizing a part of him is upset at the thought of Callie being around men. You’re a grown woman and allowed to do what you want, but bringing men around Callie….that’s an absolute fucking no.

He doesn’t give a damn if he’s only been in her life for two weeks or two minutes. She’s his daughter, and outside of himself and family, who you date should be kept far away from his daughter.

Joe mentally prepares to have this conversation—potential argument—with you.

“No,” she answers, slightly calmer. “He doesn’t like Disney.” She says it like it’s a sin, like it’s almost inconceivable for anyone to not like Disney.

Playing along with this, Joe gasps, grateful for the distraction that is Callie’s intricacies. “He sucks.”

“Yeah, he sucks,” she agrees, nodding. Joe has to keep his smile to himself. “Do you say bad words?”

The randomness and topic change take him by surprise, but he’s learning that you weren’t exaggerating when you said Callie was filled with incessant, unrelated questions. “Sometimes.”

“Mommy does too,” she reveals. “Grandma says Jesus doesn’t want us to say bad words, but I heard grandma call Ms. Beverly from church a bitch.”

At that, Joe can’t help his laughter. Her delivery, the punctuation she puts on the word ‘bitch’, to how she seems to not even process that she’s just said a bad word. It’s hilarious. “Well, sometimes grown ups say things we shouldn’t, and you just make sure you’re not saying things you shouldn’t.”

“Okay,” she agrees, almost sheepishly. And then, a yawn. “I’m sleepy.”

Joe knew she was from the moment she called, but he had a feeling she just needed to get the whole Amir thing off her chest. She doesn’t seem like the child who likes to or even can hold things in, which is preferable. “You should try to go to sleep then, sweetheart.”

She wipes at her eyes, expression suddenly saddened. “When are you coming back? You’ve been gone a really long time.”

He’s torn in this moment, wanting to tell her that he’ll be there this weekend but also not wanting to get her hopes up in case something comes up. There’s few things that could come up to keep him from going to see her, wrestling be damned, but still. Life has a way of lifing. So, he goes with the safe yet disappointing answer.

“Soon, I promise.” She’s clearly indifferent to this answer and doesn’t say anything, instead shifts on her bed, moving to lay down. “You should really try to sleep, Callie.”

Eyes starting to blink, clearly her exhaustion catching up with her, she asks, softly, “will you stay with me till I fall asleep?”

Her request tugs at his heartstrings. “Of course, sweetie.”

Seemingly pleased by this answer, she closes her eyes, and he watches. He stares at this tiny human whose existence he only learned about not even a month ago yet would do anything to make happy. Joe thinks about Callie constantly, finds himself smiling at the thought of some of the Snapchat videos you’d send him of her in all of her randomness. She was so entertaining, so full of life, a genuinely happy kid. His kid.

And it’s why he’s going to find out more about this Amir guy and why Amir is having any type of interaction with his daughter.

________

Joe: You should know she called me last night.

You’re in the middle of perusing early Black Friday deals, needing to budget for that now and taking full advantage of Callie being down for a nap. However, you frown, reading his message, not understanding why he’s stating the obvious. You were there when she asked for the iPad and when she returned it after the call was finished.

You: I’m aware….

Joe: No. After that.

Your eyebrows arch together, confused.

You: What? when?

Joe: It was 11 my time, so 9 yours.

You gasp, typing away, wondering how the hell she snuck in your room and managed a whole ass Facetime call without you hearing shit. Were you really that damn exhausted?

You: What the hell was she doing up at 9? What did she say? No wonder she was crabby this morning.

Joe: She said she couldn’t sleep.

You: A bad dream?

Joe: Naw, said you got into an argument with someone named Amir earlier that day and didn’t want to bother you….I think it was bothering her.

Your stomach twists at that. You had a feeling she’d overheard the incident with Amir, but you prayed that you were wrong. Clearly, you weren’t.

Joe: Who is Amir?

You pause at Joe’s question. Why is he asking this? What business of his is Amir? Irritation washes over you, but is waned by realizing he’s probably asking because of Callie. As her father, he has a right to know if you’re with someone, because for all he knows that someone could be around his daughter.

You really are trying with this co-parenting thing.

You: A lot of things. A pain in the ass being the most recent one.

You: We dated in high school and college on and off. He’s the basketball coach at our local high school.

It’s more information than probably what’s necessary, but there’s this small, conflicting part of you that wants him to know you have no ties to Amir. That there are no feelings there and haven’t been for literal years.

That you’re not with Amir.

Joe: Are you dating him again? Why were you arguing around Callie?

The interrogating is getting old, but you’re trying to play nice. Coparent peacefully. His delivery is off, but he has valid questions.

Sorta.

You: No. We just….we fuck around from time to time. He tries to make it more than what it is. Was about that.

You: I was waiting for her to be released from pre-school, and he picks up his nephew for his sister. It just happened, and I didn’t know/mean for her to hear.

Honestly, you’re more worried and concerned about Callie and how to approach this with her without making her feel like she was in trouble. Yes, she knows damn well she shouldn’t be on the iPad that late at night, but can you really be mad at her for talking to her dad about something that upset her?

Joe: You bring him around her?

You absolutely can be mad though at her dad who’s about to make you cuss him out next too. All of the questions are becoming too much. He gets to be concerned, but he doesn’t get to micromanage and invade.

Feeling petty and recalcitrant, you type out a reply that you should probably think twice before sending.

But fuck it.

You: No. I only ride his dick at his place. 🙂

There’s a small ounce of regret for being so crude, but not a whole lot. He knows how you are, or he should, at least.

To some extent.

But your phone rings again, and you find yourself staring mouth agape at his reply.

Joe: You may ride his dick, but you had my kid. Clearly, only one of us knows how to please you.

Your face is burning hot, and you hate how you shift in your seat. Why the fuck would he say that? You want to say it’s inappropriate, but you also opened this door.

Is he entirely wrong?

Slapping away that wild ass thought, you focus on the real conversation at hand here. It takes a couple of rewrites before you ultimately decide to change the subject.

You: I’ve never bought any man around her and never will that’s not you, if that’s what you’re asking.

You’re grateful to see he’s also agreeing to change the subject.

Joe: It is. Thank you.

Rolling your eyes, you send a text back, getting back to being annoyed at his 21 Questions. This is a two-way street, and since he’s opened this door, why not?

You: You know that goes both ways though. I don’t want her around any bitches.

Joe: Seriously?

Joe: There’s no one for me to bring her around.

You…..you don’t know how to feel about that, don’t know how to feel about the bit of relief you feel at this message. Why should you feel relieved? Even if there was, that’s his business, and he’s allowed to….do whatever it is that he does.

It reminds you and brings you to your next topic.

You: What about your wife? We need to figure that out as well. She’s eventually going to need to know about Calista and will probably be around her at some point. I get she’s your wife, but I’m Callie’s mother, I need to be there whenever you wanna introduce Callie. I need to be involved in that process as well.

He doesn’t reply.

________

Joe doesn’t really get mad.

Not often at least and definitely not outwardly.

It’s always been his thing to never let anyone have access to that “button” that triggers his anger, and for the most part, it works well.

Except for when it comes to you.

You’ve always been able to trigger many things for him, anger being one of them.

He knows he should have spoken to you in person about the situation, or even over the phone. But with the craziness of his schedule and differing time zones, he just decided to message you, and while it didn’t go horribly, it didn’t go great. He knows you’re annoyed with him.

Hence your crudity.

Joe also refuses to admit that the thought of you fucking this kid pisses him the fuck off, even though you’re not together, even though he has no right to be upset.

But goddamn that doesn’t make him any less upset or annoyed at the thought of someone else touching you.

“Uce?” Jon asks, standing at the door before inventing himself in Joe’s locker room for this week’s Smackdown. “You ready to talk man?”

At that, Joe looks confused. “Talk about what?”

“Whatever it is that got you all worked up.” The twins have always been very perceptive, even back when they were all kids. Joe might be good at hiding his frustration from others but not them. The difference between Jon and Josh though has always been Josh has the wherewithal to not say anything.

Jon hasn’t caught on to that just yet.

“I’m fine,” Joe dismisses, hoping it’s enough to dead the conversation, even though he knows better.

“Lie detector determined that was a goddamn lie.” Jon can be pushy, but he means well, and truthfully, Joe doesn’t have a strong desire to outright shut down this conversation. A different perspective is always beneficial.

Usually.

So, he explains it all, starting with his call with Callie and ending with the text exchange between him and you.

“I see,” Jon nods, clearly absorbing all of this information. Finally, he concludes, “so you’re jealous.”

That’s the first thing to evoke a genuine laugh out of Joe since his exchange with Y/N. “I’m not jealous.”

“And I’m not a twin,” Jon dismisses. “Look, Uce, it’s obvious you still got feelings for ole girl. You ask me, I don’t think you ever got over her—”

“I didn’t ask you.”

“--Now you sitting up here annoyed cause she fucking Coach Carter nephew instead of doing something about it.” Joe rolls his eyes. “I mean have you even told her about you and J—”

“No,” he interrupts, swiftly. “Not yet, at least.”

Nodding, Jon speaks again after a minute of silence. “All I’m saying is ya’ll got the history, got the connection, got the kid too! Don’t see why you need to be letting Jesus Shuttlesworth steal your girl.”

At that, Joe chuckles. One thing his cousins will always be good for, especially Jon, is comedic relief. Even some sound advice from time to time.

“Thanks.”

Joe is, surprisingly, thankful for the equally surprising advice from his cousin. He’s not entirely sure if he’s really jealous or just overreacting for a reason he hasn’t quite uncovered, but he is starting to lean more on the side of he does still have some level of feelings for Y/N.

It’s not a complete shock. He had a feeling when he reacted so strongly to just seeing your picture. It was the whole Callie situation and finding out how you kept her from him that made his vision murky.

But, as his relationship with her strengthens, the clearer he can see.

The clearer his feelings are becoming. Now. it’s just a matter of figuring out what to do with said feelings.

And find out where you stand as well.

Joe remains quiet, thinking more and more how this might end up being an eventful trip.

#roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns #roman reigns fic #black writers #arisnotebook

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gffa · 5 months

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I have a lot of thoughts about the Watcher move and I get why they did it. I've kind of half-suspected something like this would happen, because I don't think their current business model is growing enough to make it profitable for them to keep the staff they have, not with the kind of videos they put out and they've been clear that they want this to be their livelihood and a genuine production studio. But the big production videos like this just cannot survive on YouTube, unless you're like Mr. Beast or a very few other creators. And the reason big production companies like Mythical or Smosh can survive on YouTube is because they're putting out videos EVERY DAY pretty much, they keep the average costs down. And even Mythical has talked about how their views have plateaued, Rhett and Link have talked repeatedly about how they're constantly trying new things and can't really pursue them if they're not a massive hit because they're beholden to only having resources for things that won't lose them money. It took them twenty years to get to a place where they could finally say, "Fuck it, we're doing what we want, because we're secure enough to take the hit, if it comes to that." Watcher in contrast is making more high level production shows, a lot of research into a single episode (rather than something that can be used for multiple episodes), expensive location shoots, etc. And so I think they looked to Dropout as a business model that might work for them. But the thing is that I'm not sure they have a strong enough roster to pull it off. Puppet History and Ghost Files are both hits, but I'm not sure any shows that aren't centered on Ryan and Shane have ever really taken off? Maybe Worth It or Dish Granted? Meanwhile, Dropout has the whole D20 lineup and Game Changer is a huge hit (also possibly Make Some Noise?)(I'm judging by how many shows I see cross my dash, which may not be the best metric, tbf) but they have a huge cast to work with and their model relies heavily on how much of the D20 stuff they put out in volume. So, I get why Watcher did this, in some ways, I kind of agree that it might have been the only move for them if they wanted to do this long-term. And I think it's important to them that, the whole reason they left Buzzfeed was because they wanted to do their own stuff, their own passion projects, rather than just what Buzzfeed deemed a viral hit. And their YouTube shows do mean being beholden to advertisers and only focusing on what will be as big a hit as possible, which is exactly what they wanted to get away from. I'm just not sure it'll work because they can't put out enough content that enough people would want to pay for. I kinda wish they'd gone the Mythical route instead, where they put up the behind the scenes stuff and special series on their own site and had tiers of membership for people who wanted to access them, while keeping the main shows on YouTube. (But I guess that's basically what they were doing with the Patreon exclusive videos and it must not have been a big enough draw to keep going the way they did.) I think they probably felt like this was the only route forward for them long-term, that it was either this or they would have to dissolve the company, but I'm just not sure I believe that it can work. I love the shows, but I'm not getting a subscription service for a roster of shows where I watch like three of the shows.

#lumi.txt #watcher

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fayes-fics · 7 months

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When The World Is Free: Chapter 14 - Un Coin Tout Bleu

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: None really... angst, make-ups, misunderstandings, confessions and a proposal.

Word Count: 1.9k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is the penultimate chapter, so everyone is starting to make peace. There is one more chapter that will have explicit content and an epilogue to go. Thanks as always to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Aubrey Hall, UK, October 1939

Instinct has you up on your feet and chasing after, rounding into each room you pass, but you cannot find either of them. Your stride is definitely no match for Benedict’s; he is likely already far away.

When you stumble up the stairs, you collide with Violet. She is taken aback at first but then sees your apparent distress and has you in a hug before you know what is happening.

“Whatever is it, my dear?” she soothes into your hair.

“Eloise found Benedict and I asleep in an embrace and ran away in horror,” you stutter. “And then I let slip to Benedict you think he loves me, and then he ran. Oh god!! I have messed things up so horribly,” you lament.

Her motherly concern has you clinging to her, the sting of your mother’s recent rejection still a whiplash to your heart.

“Let us find my wilful daughter; she is likely just in shock, that is all.” she counsels calmly. “And then we will deal with your errant husband.”

Looping your arm with hers, Violet leads you to a few places where she knows Elose skulks when she wants to escape the world. You both eventually find her in the attic, where stacks of books and pillows are near an oval window that suggests this is often a refuge for her.

“Eloise Bridgerton, come and make amends with your friend,” is her stern greeting.

“Why should I?” Eloise sniffs, steadfastly refusing to turn around, staring out the small window at the grounds below. “She did the one thing - the ONE THING - I told her would make me disown her….” she adds bitterly, referencing the chat you had in Paris many weeks ago before Benedict arrived. “This was a choice she made.”

“Falling in love with your brother was not a choice, Eloise; it happened quite without me meaning to,” you implore, wanting her to believe it's true.

At that, her head whips around, surprise claiming her face. “Love?” she scoffs. “Please…” Looking to her mother for support in her derision, she frowns when she seems to find none. “Are you serious?”

“Yes…” you reply softly, taking a hesitant step forward, holding your palms open at your side—a conciliatory gesture. “I married Benedict to escape, yes, but even before then, I knew I felt something for him. That connection has only grown more profound since. We have spent a lot of time together in secret. I am truly sorry I, well, we, kept it from you. I was scared you would be angry and hurt. And you are. And you have every right to be.”

“It's true, Eloise,” Violet, standing a few paces behind you, pipes up. “I saw it the minute they arrived here. And I can tell you right now, your brother feels exactly the same.”

You want to believe Violet’s assertion about that, but you feel a tightness in your chest as she says it, worrying that it may not be accurate.

“You are my friend,” she whines almost petulantly.

“And I will always be your friend if you allow me,” you counter delicately. “No matter what happens with Benedict, and even I do not know now, you will always be dear to me and a part of my life.”

“What did that bloody idiot do now?” she inquires, sharp as a tack.

“After you left the room, I-I mentioned your mother thinks he loves me, and well, he ran out, you admit, hanging your head.

“That idiot…” she blusters, rolling her eyes.

“I'm very sorry if you see this as a betrayal. I wanted to keep it quiet because I love you so much as a friend. I truly never want or meant to hurt you….”

Eloise sighs, and you watch her shoulders slump. “You are just lucky I know some semblance of what you speak…” she offers wistfully, a glimmer of hope that has you inhaling sharply.

You know without asking that she is referring to Phillip, and you twist to smile at Violet briefly, who suddenly looks very invested.

“I hope you can find it within your heart to forgive me. I know it may take some time,” you allow. Hope creeps into the edges of your heart that you can reconcile with one Bridgerton, at least.

“It is just a shock that you kept it from me,” she sighs, finally admitting what upset her the most.

“I thought us terrible actors,” you giggle lightly, hoping humour will brighten your exchange.

A soft smile teases at the corner of her lips. “Are you suggesting I am not as sharp as I could be?” she jests gently.

“Heaven forfend!” you clutch your chest, feigning shock, then morphing into a smile you hope is an olive branch.

“I think perhaps you saw what you wanted or rather didn't want to see, daughter dearest,” Violet interjects mildly. “Because I can confirm they are both utterly terrible actors,” she chuckles.

You bite your lip and hang your head in an act of contrition that seems to amuse Eloise greatly. Her hesitant huff of humour is the best noise you could possibly hear.

“Friends?” you query tentatively, hopeful.

“Friends,” she pouts, crossing her arms. “But there is still much to make up…” she adds.

“Understood.”

With this fragile peace brokered, Violet links her arm in Eloise’s and yours, leading you both back down into the house with a declaration that tea, the ultimate British elixir, is needed.

—

Ten minutes later, you are gathered in the small glass conservatory, partaking in said refreshments. Other Bridgerton children—Colin, Francesa, and Gregory—likely drawn by the biscuit smell have also materialised. The gathering is a peaceful balm to a dramatic day. A large part of you still aches that Benedict fled, but you try to force it from your mind and concentrate on the fact that Eloise may be willing to forgive… with time.

Just as you stand to refill your teacup, however, the calm is shattered. Benedict charges into the room, flustered and breathless. He drops an envelope he is holding onto a side table and marches right up to you, stride purpose-filled, completely ignoring the rest of his family.

“There you are! I have been looking all over for you!” Relief palpable in his tone but still agitated and animated, grabbing your forearms. “Where on earth did you go?”

You splutter indignantly. “Where did I go?! Me? I think the more pertinent question is… where did you go?! You ran out of the room so fast!”

“I asked you to wait a moment,” he frowns.

“No, you didn't!” you state forthrightly.

He seems to falter, relinquishing his grip on your arms. “I… I didn't?”

“No…”

A look of doubt, then confusion, then finally understanding ripples over his face. “Oh…So you thought I… Oh…”

“Yes,” you reply quietly so the others gathered, who seem very invested now in your exchange, cannot hear. “I thought you walked out because of what I divulged.” Not wanting to go into detail with an audience.

“No! No!” he asserts candidly. “Nothing could be further from the truth!” His eyes soften as he realises what happened, looking genuinely contrite. “I am so sorry. I must’ve forgotten to say it out loud in my excitement.”

“Excitement!?” you are baffled. “You looked terrified!”

He grabs your hands this time, holding them in his, a look of earnest sincerity claiming his handsome features. “Yes, I was nervous and shocked that my mother knew and told you,” briefly glancing towards her over your shoulder. “But it spurred me to finally be brave enough to show you something. Something very important that I need your opinion on”

He lets go of your hands to grab the envelope from the table. With a nervous mien, he opens it and hands you a pile of photos. They are of an idyllic-looking country home surrounded by a pretty garden and countryside beyond. It looks so beautiful and instantly captures your imagination. For some strange reason, it already feels familiar to you.

“What do you think?” Benedict seems super nervous, shuffling his weight between his feet, apparently anxious for your answer.

“It's very pretty,” you opine neutrally, primarily confused. “I'm not sure why you are showing me, though?”

“I… I wanted to know if it was somewhere you could see yourself living?” he asks enigmatically with a small smile.

“Why?” you frown, unwilling to confess the truth - that you would live there in a heartbeat. It looks like the house you dreamed you would live in one day.

He takes a deep breath, seeming to steel himself. “Because… I would like to buy it. For you. Well, for us.”

There is no other word for it - you are floored. A loud buzzing sound is behind your ears, your knees feel oddly weak, and there is a tingle in your fingertips.

“For us?” you stutter, disbelieving.

You could hear a pin drop in the room. You can’t see them, but you know his family behind you likely have gaping mouths, especially Eloise.

“Yes, to live in. Together,” Benedict answers, that crooked smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “And if you are willing to live with me, well, then I also have another question for you…”

Your lungs feel afire, and your brain is short-circuiting—almost unable to surmount the shock. Entirely confounded as your heart pounds hard in your ribcage.

“A-A-And if I am, what is your other question?” you ask breathlessly.

You gasp as he falls to one knee before you, and you hear a collective ripple of shock behind you as he produces a little velvet box from his pocket.

“I wanted you to wait so I could also go and get this,” he explains, a slight shake in his hand as he holds it open—an engagement ring with sapphires and diamonds nestled within.

You can feel your eyes welling with tears as you gaze down upon him.

“Realising my mother knew the truth and accepted it was a wake-up call for me. I had to finally be brave and confess to you. We are already married, so some may think this pointless, but it is nothing less than you deserve: a proper, heartfelt, honest proposal.”

His free hand reaches and grabs yours, lacing your fingers together. It feels like the anchor you need to stay upright.

“Given the short time, it may seem reckless to others, but I do not care what anyone thinks but you. I know what my heart tells me, indeed, has told me from the moment we met—you are my home, my refuge, my present and my future. Y/n, I love you more than I ever thought possible. I would marry you a hundred times over, in whatever way you would have me. Please, please, will you be my wife?”

A sob escapes your lungs, and you fall to your knees with him, wanting to be at eye level.

“Yes, Benedict! A hundred times - yes!!!”

Your answer is rendered through watery tears as he breaks into a breathtaking grin and pulls you both to your feet. He gathers you into his arms and seals the pact with a lingering but chaste kiss. His eyes are misty, too, as your lips break apart and exchange smiles.

Behind you, his family erupts into whoops and applause as he pushes the ring onto your left finger, fitting snugly over your wedding band. You twist to see Eloise, a begrudging tear in her eye; a burden lightens in your heart as she nods towards you as if bestowing her tacit approval.

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m1ckeyb3rry · 7 months

Text

── THE GLASS PRINCESS // FOUR

Series Synopsis: You wake up in a strange room with no memories, broken glass at your bedside, and a prince named Zuko as your only chance at figuring out who you really are.

Chapter Synopsis: You go to the zoo with Ty Lee. Later, you and Jia-Li watch a brutal confrontation between Kaho and an underclassman.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.3k

Content Warnings: complicated relationships (strangers to friends to lovers to enemies to strangers to lovers to enemies to lovers), amnesia, alternate universe, lots of secrets and lying and mystery

A/N: big reveal HAHA jia-li is ruon-jian’s sister and kaho is chan’s!! idk if that was what people were expecting or not but i thought it was funny so here we are

To Zuko,

I suppose that, if you really are set on it, it would not hurt me to think of you as my friend. I hope that you are prepared for what that may entail.

I jest. I do not think I am a particularly difficult person to have as a friend, though you might get a more honest review from Ty Lee or Jia-Li. At least in my own opinion (which one might find to be unfairly high), I am agreeable enough to get along with most people — at least those who are agreeable in return (so, not Kaho).

Ty Lee and I went to the zoo. It was entertaining. I am fond of animals, and I found I enjoyed myself more at the zoo than in the academy. At least the birds sound pretty when they screech! The same cannot be said for my dear classmates, who are of the disposition to speak quite incessantly but without anything of substance or value to contribute.

My classes have been going well. I am already at the top of the year, which is partially due to how much I study and partially due to a different factor. I will not call it memory, because it is nothing that that is personal to me, but it is true that at times I will understand something before our teacher has even taught it. I must have been a very learned Fire Nation soldier, indeed.

I had to watch an Agni Kai. One of the girls in the year below us fought Kaho. Of course, she lost. It is such a brutal custom, you know…though of course I understand the cultural significance, it is not a joy to watch. Certainly, I don’t understand how some of the girls were eating snacks and placing bets on the outcome. Luckily, the girl who went against Kaho is alright. Kaho let her off with only a small burn, but it could’ve been much worse.

In better news, Jia-Li has invited me to spend the next break at her house on Ember Island! So I will go there instead of taking up space at the palace. I am excited — I am not sure if I’ve ever been to the ocean or not. It will be exciting to see it for the first time; or, if not for the first time in my life, then for the first time that I will remember. Of course, I will continue to write to you even on vacation, and Jia-Li has already said that I can borrow her clothes and things, so there should be no strain put upon you. If there were, then I would not even suggest it.

The next time I shall see you in person will be after the term is properly over, then. I look forward to it will hopefully be the Fire Nation lady you want me to be by then.

From, Your friend Ursa

P.S. You should not be surprised by what I am about to say: I still don’t remember anything.

“Wow,” Ty Lee said, chewing on a piece of candy as the two of you walked down a gravel pathway together. “I still can’t believe we got free admission!”

“Apparently, all students do,” you said, holding out your hand. She dropped the small, round, fruit-flavored disks in your palm, and you popped it in your mouth, smiling at the burst of flavor. “Though it makes sense they don’t advertise that.”

The Strategy Mistress was sick, so you all had been given leave to spend the afternoon as you pleased. Ty Lee had offered to take you to the zoo with her, remembering that you had mentioned wanting to go when you had woken up in the palace, and you had jumped at the chance to not be in the suffocating dormitory for a little while.

At the moment, you and her were standing in front of the dragon moose enclosure, watching as they grazed. One of the dragon moose had a calf, and it was a sweet looking animal, somehow adorable in its awkward ugliness. As you watched, it had a spurt of energy, jumping and bucking through the pasture, racing along the fence line and only skidding to a stop when it realized it was being ignored. Its ears drooped as it trotted back to its mother’s side, lowering its head to the grass once again.

“These dragon moose look a little different than the ones that pull the carriages,” Ty Lee said.

“Oh, I know why that is,” you said, eager to prove your competence. “Dragon moose are actually only native to one small part of the Fire Nation. The ones that pull our carriages are the offspring of ones that were domesticated many centuries ago. They’ve been selectively bred to best fit our purposes almost since the day our ancestors first tamed them, so they’ve evolved into very different looking animals. The wild dragon moose, such as these ones, never had that push to evolve and optimize to our needs, so they look the same as they have for all of those centuries.”

“You sure do know a lot, Ursa,” Ty Lee said gamely. “Was that school knowledge, book knowledge, or past knowledge?”

“Book knowledge,” you said. “I don’t know if I was that interested in the convergent evolution of domestic and wild dragon moose in my previous life.”

Ever since the first day of your classes, when you had discovered a mysterious aptitude and innate understanding of the rules of etiquette, you and Ty Lee had come up with three categories: school knowledge, book knowledge, and past knowledge. School knowledge referred to the things that you learned in your lessons, the offhand comments and the droning lectures that you remembered better than anyone else in your year. Book knowledge was the summation of the many pages upon pages you had committed to memory, encompassing everything from the political structures of the Fire Nation to the fauna of the Northern Water Tribe. Finally, past knowledge was the most mysterious and ambiguous category, because it meant the random things you just knew in your mind, even though you had no real reason to.

More things than you were really comfortable with fell into that latter category. It really didn’t feel fair — why was it that you could recall the pillars of etiquette and the different battle formations of the Soldiers of Agni, but not anything about who you had been in the past? Why was your identity, which you wanted to know the most, the only thing you could not remember?

In the middle of the zoo was a large, artificial lake. You and Ty Lee stopped at the fence and leaned over to watch the flying dolphin fish leap through the air before diving back into the water with great splashes. A little ways away from you, a child raced up to the fence and gripped it, staring at the flying dolphin fish in awe. One of the fish noticed him and swam over towards him before slamming its tail against the surface of the lake, bowling the child over in a great deluge of salty brine.

You and Ty Lee exchanged looks, neither of you laughing until you saw the other’s face, whereupon you burst into fits of giggles, unable to hold them in any longer.

“Should we go help him?” you gasped out, wiping away the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. Ty Lee, who was doubled over at this point, shook her head.

“I think — I think his mother’s got him,” she said breathlessly. True to her word, an adult woman was yelling at the boy as he wailed, still face-down and drenched to the bone.

“He should’ve just stayed with the turtle ducks,” you said, shaking your head and pointing at the small flock floating placidly along, far from the mischievous flying dolphin fish. “They’re so cute!”

“From what I remember, there’s a petting zoo area somewhere in the zoo, if you want to try feeding turtle ducks,” Ty Lee said. “I wasn’t able to see it when I came with Azula and Mai, though, because Azula hates turtle ducks.”

“Hates turtle ducks? How could someone hate them? They’re so sweet and guileless,” you said. “Was she wronged by one as a child?”

“You could say that,” Ty Lee said. She didn’t offer further explanation, but considering you had never even met Princess Azula, you didn’t blame her. Whatever her past with the turtle ducks was, it was the princess’s own secret to keep or share at her own discretion.

It took you a while to find the petting zoo, as they had no signs, so you had to ask people to point you in the correct direction. Unfortunately, most of the people that you asked were other visitors, and by the time you finally found a staff member to take you there, you had all but given up on the prospect of going at all.

“Mostly, the people who come to the petting zoo are kids, or at least have some of their own,” the zookeeper said. Ty Lee scowled at her.

“Some of us are young at heart!” she snapped, earning a snort from you and a bewildered look from the zookeeper, who raised her hands in the air and back away.

“I cannot believe that was your response to her,” you said as you reached the counter where a different zookeeper handed you little bags of food to give to the animals.

“I panicked,” Ty Lee admitted. “But really, she had no reason to be judging us! It’s her own job that relies on visitors like us. Who cares about how old we are?”

“Quite right, Ty Lee, and anyways it can be argued that I have about as much life experience as a child, in one way, so she really has no ground to stand on,” you said.

“I wouldn’t say you’re all too childlike,” Ty Lee said. “You act like most anyone else our age would. Maybe more mature, even, but certainly not less, even though you have no memories.”

“Of course, it isn’t as if the effects of my formative experiences on my psyche have been erased just because I can’t remember them,” you said. “They still shaped my spirit, even if I cannot recall how they did so.”

Unfurling your fingers and offering your hand to one of the dragon moose — which was of the domesticated variety, not one of the wild ones from earlier — you used your other hand to rub its forehead.

“Ew! It slobbered all over me!” Ty Lee said as the dragon moose she was feeding swiped its long tongue over her now-empty palm and then across her cheek, ignoring her attempts to shove it off of her.

“That must mean it likes you,” you said. She stopped trying to shove it away, her expression growing contemplative as the dragon moose used its lips to play with her long braid.

“Aw,” she said. “Now I feel kinda bad for being so mean.”

“I don’t think it’s offended, but maybe you should get your braid out of its mouth before it chews it off,” you said. Ty Lee yelped and yanked her braid out of the dragon moose’s grasp, jumping away to stand behind you.

“As soon as we get back to the academy, I’m going to have to shower,” she said, shuddering.

“You do smell somewhat like dragon moose,” you said, sniffing her delicately and then wrinkling your nose. “Wanna go back to the flying dolphin fish? I’m sure they’d be happy to rinse you off.”

“Very funny!” she said.

“It feels like you don’t think it’s that funny,” you said, snickering. “Which is a shame, because I do.”

“Let’s just go see the turtle ducks. They’re the whole reason we came here,” she said, stomping off.

“You don’t want to visit the hippo cow?” you said, pointing at the enormous beast that was allowing toddlers to clamber over it as it dozed with one eye open.

“I don’t even want to think about how things could go wrong if I go near that,” Ty Lee said. “Turtle ducks are nice and safe and little. As I said, let’s go there.”

These turtle ducks were kept in a pond which had no fence, allowing them to wander about as they pleased, swimming amongst the lilies blooming in the water and hiding in the bulrushes on the part of the bank further from the path.

Crouching, you broke off pieces of lettuce and threw them towards the turtle ducks. They paddled over and began to squabble amongst themselves, racing to snag the treats before their companions.

Ty Lee joined you, and for a little bit, the two of you were quiet, tossing lettuce at the turtle ducks and observing them eat. Only once all of your lettuce had run out did Ty Lee speak again.

“I thought turtle ducks ate bread,” she said.

“They do,” you said. “They love it a lot, which is why people give it to them. But it’s bad for them. Makes their stomachs upset.”

“Then why do they love it?” she said. “If it makes them sick, why do they keep eating it?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “It must taste very nice. Sometimes, it’s like that, I guess. You do things that you know are bad for you because you think that they are good.”

Ty Lee glanced at you out of the corner of her eye. “School knowledge or book knowledge?”

“Neither,” you said. “Past knowledge, I think.”

You couldn’t explain it, but then again, when had you ever been able to explain your past knowledge? Ty Lee exhaled but did not question you, which you were grateful for. You doubted you could’ve explained further, anyways.

“There you are!” Jia-Li hissed when you and Ty Lee walked into the dormitory building together. The light mood of the outing had faded after you had fed the turtle ducks, a pensive melancholy settling over you both in place of the earlier humor as the two of you considered your own respective thoughts.

“What’s wrong?” you said.

“Where have you guys been?” she said.

“We were at the zoo,” Ty Lee said.

“Didn’t I tell you before we left? Did something happen? Oh no, did the Strategy Mistress suddenly feel better and decide to hold class after all?” you said. “We have an exam coming up. If I missed a class, then I’m going to have to double down on my studying.”

“Those are words I never want to hear from your mouth again,” Ty Lee said. “How can you ‘double down’ on your studying when you already spend almost every waking moment doing exactly that? I mean, there’s only so many hours in a day, you know!”

“Never mind all of that!” Jia-Li said. “No, the Strategy Mistress is still sick, so you didn’t miss anything — at least, nothing academic.”

“Good,” you said. “I don’t mind missing anything else. Which I’m assuming we did, considering you look near to fainting, Jia-Li.”

“One of those idiots in the class below us has been spending the entire afternoon antagonizing Kaho! I’m afraid she’s going to blow up, and sooner rather than later,” Jia-Li explained.

“That sounds like something I’d like to be far away from,” you said. “We should’ve stayed at the zoo a bit longer, Ty Lee.”

“Mhm,” Ty Lee said emphatically. “I’d take dragon moose slobber any day!”

“I don’t think this girl realizes what she’s getting into,” Jia-Li said. “See, the thing is, whenever you’re around, Ursa, Kaho’s too busy hating you to get annoyed by anyone else. But since you were gone all afternoon, she’s had nowhere to channel her inner anger.”

You made a face. “So? Are you suggesting that I should’ve stayed around and let her be rude to me or something?”

“Not at all,” Jia-Li reassured you. “It’s more that she’s seemed downright gentle recently — or, I guess, gentler. That’s why that girl thinks she has a chance, but the truth is in terms of Firebending, Kaho is probably the most talented student in the entire academy at the present moment. And when you mix that talent together with an ill temper, it’s a bad combination.”

“Has she challenged her yet?” Ty Lee said.

“Not yet,” Jia-Li said.

“It’s only a matter of time,” Ty Lee said, sighing. “Ugh. This is all so ridiculous! We should all just get along.”

“Let’s just avoid them all for as long as we can and hope everything has smoothed over by the time we go down to eat dinner,” you said. “Ty Lee, you can stay in our room, as long as Jia-Li is okay with it.”

“Of course,” Jia-Li said. “I wouldn’t send you into the dragon’s maw like that.”

“I can handle her if it comes down to it,” Ty Lee said. “And I really need to shower — bad run in with a dragon moose’s tongue, Jia-Li, it’s a bit of a long story. But thanks for offering!”

“What can she do against someone like Kaho?” Jia-Li asked you. You shrugged.

“I have no idea, but she is one of Princess Azula’s closest friends, so she must know a thing or two,” you said.

“That’s true,” Jia-Li said. “Let’s stop talking about Kaho and her idiocy now, though. There’s no point in letting her spoil our time together. Did you have fun at the zoo?”

“I did!” you said. “It was nice to see all the animals, and we got to feed some of them at the petting zoo, which was nice. They were all very friendly.”

Jia-Li smiled fondly. “That’s good. I used to love going to the zoo as a kid. My brother and I used to visit together — his favorite exhibit was the flying dolphin fish, but I always liked going to see the koala sheep.”

“Were you and your brother close?” you said, feeling a pang in your stomach. You had no idea if you had a brother or a sister or any siblings at all. What if you did? Would they be missing you right now, or would they have moved on from you already? Would they resemble you, or would you look completely different? Would they have cared for you in your youth, or would you have cared for them in theirs?

“We used to be,” Jia-Li said. “When we were very young, that is. He was my best friend.”

“What happened?” you said.

“We grew up,” she said, undoing the ribbon tying her hair back and beginning to comb through her long locks. “I came here, and he went to the school for boys. Then I suppose we just learnt to have different interests. He preferred hanging out with his other boy friends, and so I was left to find my own entertainment.”

“That’s sad,” you said. She set down the comb and retied her hair.

“It is,” she said. “What I wouldn’t give to go to the zoo with him again, or some other such activity. Actually, I just wish we were children again…but we are grown now, aren’t we? It’s fine. That’s how life is.”

“Is he much older than us?” you said.

“Only by a couple of years,” she said before brightening. “You should come meet him!”

“Uh,” you said. “Where would we do that, exactly? And why?”

“Our next break is soon. My family has a house on Ember Island; you can come stay with us! Unless you have other plans already or something, of course,” she said.

“I don’t have any plans,” you said. “I probably would’ve ended up going to the palace again, but visiting this Ember Island place sounds a little more appealing, in truth. As long as you and your family are alright with it.”

“My family won’t care,” Jia-Li said, waving you off dismissively. “My father will probably be delighted to have the girl sponsored by the royal family staying in his home, and my mother will just be happy that I’m bringing a friend home. As for my brother…nobody cares about his opinion, anyways! If he wants to complain, then he can just run along and stay at his best friend’s house. They’re going to be on Ember Island then, too.”

“Then I would really love to do that,” you said. “Thank you for inviting me, Jia-Li.”

“Sure, you’re a great roommate, so it’s not an issue,” she said. “I was a little sad about having to leave you during break, but now I’m just excited! You’ll love Ember Island, I promise. It’s so beautiful there.”

“I’m excited, too,” you said. “Actually, I was a little scared about the break — I wasn’t sure if I had a place in the palace or not, and either way, there’s something a little intimidating about staying there. It’ll be much more fun to be with you the whole time, in a place that I can feel somewhat wanted.”

“Of course!” Jia-Li said, growing starry-eyed. “And I can take you to the ocean for the first time! Do you know how to swim? Wait, you probably wouldn’t know if you do or don’t. Well, if you don’t, I’ll teach you, and if you do, we can swim together! You can borrow my things, I think we’re probably close in size.”

“Alright,” you said, overwhelmed by the many plans she was already coming with. “I’ll leave all of that to you. Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

“You can count on me,” Jia-Li said, giving you a thumbs up. “I promise it’ll be the best break ever!”

Since Ty Lee had apparently gone to her room after showering, you and Jia-Li decided to make your way to dinner together in the hopes that you’d find her in the dining hall. Both of you were hungry by that point, though, and you unanimously agreed to just eat, even if she wasn’t there.

“I’m surprised,” you said when you walked in and found no traces of Ty Lee anywhere. “She’s normally so timely when it comes to dinner.”

“Yeah, but remember how long it takes her to wash and dry her hair? She probably won’t be down for a while,” Jia-Li reminded you.

“Right, I forgot about that,” you said. Ty Lee took a lot of pride in her personal appearance — rightfully so, of course, given how lovely she was — so her pre and post-shower routines were quite extensive, to say nothing of the actual shower itself. And especially because she had gotten covered in dragon moose saliva at the zoo, Jia-Li was correct to assume that Ty Lee might not be out for quite some time.

“Uh-oh,” Jia-Li said as you two sat down with your dinners. She nodded at the end of the table, where a girl you vaguely remembered being in the year below you was smirking at Kaho, whose jaw muscles were twitching with every word the girl spoke.

“Someone should stop her,” you said, though you made no move to get up, wanting to stay far away from the disaster zone that was about to emerge. Jia-Li hummed in assent, but she obviously had the same idea, remaining firmly put beside you. “It’s like she has a death wish.”

“She’s just trying to prove her superiority,” Jia-Li said. “There’s a clear hierarchy in this school, and right now, Kaho is at the top. She doesn’t like when people come for her spot, but of course, everyone wants to be there, to be number one, so they’re always trying to best her. It’s why she doesn’t like you — you’re beating her in terms of academics, which she hates, because she’s supposed to be the best. At least with you, though, you’re not a bender, so she can console herself with the fact that you’ll never be able to compete with her in any way that matters on that front. This girl, though, is challenging everything that Kaho is. She wants to be the most respected girl in the academy, but to do that, she needs to prove that Kaho isn’t worthy of that place any longer.”

“Can she do it?” you said.

“No,” Jia-Li said bluntly. “Plenty of people have tried. None of them have succeeded, except for Princess Azula, and she’s a special case in that she already was afforded a different status than the rest of us because of her bloodline.”

“Then she’s a fool,” you said.

“There’s more fools in this world than not,” Jia-Li said.

The girl continued to tease Kaho, who was obviously doing her level best to ignore her, not even affording her the dignity of looking at her. One could argue that it was maturity, but you understood it for what it really was: a way to demean her opponent, to prove that the other’s existence was meaningless to her, that she was so insignificant it was as if she truly did not exist in Kaho’s eyes.

“Honestly,” the girl said, voice lilting impishly, “I feel for you, Kaho. I mean, you used to be the top student, and then a girl with amnesia took your spot! It must’ve been embarrassing, losing to someone who doesn’t even have any memories. And to make matters worse, the prince really does seem to favor that girl, and we all know what he thinks of you…”

“What is she talking about?” you whispered under your breath to Jia-Li. “Why is she bringing me into this? What does Prince Zuko have to do with anything?”

“You’d do well to shut up now,” Kaho said, though it was the wrong thing to do, for her reaction was proof that the girl had struck a nerve.

“It’s like I told you,” Jia-Li whispered back. “Kaho is used to being at the top. When we were younger, before everything with the, ah, banishment, she tried very desperately to befriend the royal family. She was never able to endear herself to Princess Azula, but her sights were always on the prince, anyways, so that mattered little to her. It was marriage she sought; the prospect of being Fire Lady was too appealing.”

“I’m assuming she was unsuccessful,” you said. Jia-Li nodded.

“Extremely. It wasn’t even her fault, really; Prince Zuko was always kind, but unattainable for all of us. He had no interest in dallying with girls that went to school with his sister, so Kaho was never able to gain his approval in the way she wanted. Perhaps it might’ve been different if he hadn’t been…you know. They might have grown closer as they grew older simply due to her sheer persistence, but we’ll never know,” she said.

“For being the supposed best of us, you’re not the best at a lot of things,” the girl said. “I mean, I bet you’re not even that good at Firebending!”

Kaho slammed her fist on the table, standing to face the girl and glaring at her.

“Is that the game you want to play?” she said. “Fine. I’ll go along with it. I challenge you to an Agni Kai!”

“I’m assuming that’s not a good outcome,” you said.

“Nope,” Jia-Li said grimly. “Let’s just say that things have gone from bad to worse. Come on.”

“We’re going to watch?” you said.

“It’s all but mandated. I don’t like it, either, but we kind of have to,” Jia-Li said. “Hopefully, it’s over soon. Sometimes, Kaho can be inventive.”

You and Jia-Li stood in the very back of the crowd, though your view was still perfectly unobstructed. You almost wished there was something blocking your vision, though, something in between you and what was surely going to turn out to be a grotesque sight, one way or another.

“Want some?” the girl in front of you said, turning around and proffering a bag of candy to you and Jia-Li.

“No, thank you,” you said, for you were already queasy and knew that sweets would only worsen the effect.

“I’m okay,” Jia-Li said.

“I’m betting on Kaho,” the girl said, grabbing a handful of candy and dropping it all in her mouth. “Wanna join the pool? One of my friends is running it.”

“Like a betting pool?” you said.

“Yup! It’s how I could afford to buy this candy — I won last time,” the girl explained.

“No way,” you said.

“We’re good,” Jia-Li said when the girl looked offended at your short response.

“I can’t believe they’re betting on something like this!” you said.

“It’s common, believe it or not,” Jia-Li said.

“I believe it, sadly, but I wish I didn’t,” you said. “It’s so heartless.”

“That’s just how things are here,” Jia-Li said. You pursed your lips as the fight between the girl and Kaho began, deciding to keep silent, because your words would be wasted when your argument was not even with Jia-Li in the first place.

Even though the girl was no slouch in terms of Firebending, the fight was over almost as soon as it started. Kaho’s power was too much for her opponent, and she seemed bored as she coated her palm in fire and slapped it against the girl’s bicep.

“I got the first burn,” she said, miming a yawn. “So I guess that means I win. Why are you crying like that? Honestly. Just shut up. Why’d you agree to fight me if you couldn’t accept defeat like an adult?”

The skin on the girl’s arm was red and angry, already beginning to blister, but you could tell even without an explanation from Jia-Li that Kaho had been merciful. She could’ve done worse, but she had chosen to let that girl off with a warning. A reminder to never be so daring again.

There was something odd about it all, though. Despite the fact that her opponent was standing across from her, you noticed that it was not the burnt, sobbing girl that Kaho was scowling at so darkly.

It was you.

Ursa,

I’m glad you were able to make it to the zoo. I know you mentioned wanting to go a while back, so it makes me happy to know that that desire of yours was fulfilled. I wish I could’ve been there. Did you get to feed the turtle ducks? I remember doing that when I went, though of course I only visited once, with my mother, and that was a long time ago, so maybe things have changed and they don’t let people do that anymore.

I wish you hadn’t had to see an Agni Kai. They are definitely a darker part of Fire Nation culture. But, then again, for a nation that values honor so greatly, they are just a natural consequence. I hope you haven’t been frightened too terribly. Mai says that Kaho isn’t always so generous with her opponents, so there’s something to be grateful for: at least it was only a small burn. You’re entirely right — it could’ve been worse.

You shouldn’t worry about taking up space at the palace. It would be my our pleasure to host you once again. But Ember Island is a nice place. You will have fun there, I’m sure. The ocean is very, very beautiful. It’s the bluest thing you’ll ever see, and it goes on for what seems to be forever. The Fire Nation is lucky in that our ocean is warm, and the tides are not so vicious — nothing like the poles, where it is so treacherous and cold.

It is nice to know that you are enjoying yourself so thoroughly. That is what I am really concerned with; it matters little to me if you ever become a proper Fire Nation lady or anything along those lines. I would even prefer it if you didn’t. It’s more important that you are happy.

Yours, Zuko

P.S. Perhaps I am not surprised, but I am still disappointed on your behalf.

#zuko x reader #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #zuko #avatar the last airbender #atla #reader insert #canon au #the glass princess #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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saerotonins · 1 year

Text

jotaro and boobies

ft. kujo jotaro x gn!reader (headcanons + scenario)

content warnings: 4taro, fluff, jotaro being a cute pookie, suggestive (? but just to be sure), reader has boobs, just some corny shit i decided to write, not beta read

wc: 1127

while i definitely agree that he's a thigh man, he appreciates boobies too!

any size, any kind, his hands WILL fit

sometimes or most of the time it's not even sexual, he just likes to touch them because he likes the feel of them

a free stress ball for him if you will

at this point your bras are useless, what's the point of having them when his hands are RIGHT THERE

would be willing to be your bra if he could tbh

he's kinda obsessed with them and would be glad if you're down to prance around your shared apartment with no top on

on a particularly really stressful day, he just wants to lay his hands on your boobies and call it a day

maybe squish them but not too much

would probably fall asleep while he holds them

the hold he has on them is really comfortable, this man's hands are the perfect cups (hah, see what i did there, ok bye)

jotaro came home later than usual due to some deadlines that he had to catch from office. while this is not unusual, today is particularly draining for him since his research partner decided to be more difficult than they were before.

"you're still awake," was the first thing he said the moment he entered the door. the sight before him is welcoming and cozy. with you sitting comfortably on the couch with your pajamas and socks and the comforter hanging around really made you look inviting. immediately, he somehow felt his shoulders lighten up a bit.

his voice made you look in his direction and he could clearly see how happy you were to finally see him home, safe and sound. these are the mundane things he looks forward to every day. the domesticity makes his heart full and happy, and while he'd be damned to admit it out loud, it's something that he wouldn't trade for the world.

you stood up and walked up to him to greet him with a chaste kiss on the lips, "welcome home, darling, food's waiting for you in the dining table, come?" jotaro nods to your invitation. you held his hands as you gently guide jotaro towards the dining room. the patter of your sock-clad feet as you walk sounds relaxing, he thinks.

"the food is a little cold but we can heat it up," you said as you sat, "this is fine, i'm starving," you knew what he said is extremely true since you noticed that he immediately inhaled the food served in front of him.

jotaro must have noticed that despite being seated with him, you were not eating, "why aren't you eating?" he asked out of concern.

"i already ate a while ago, i just want to make sure you'll have a hearty dinner since you seem tired when you came in," your answer made pause as he chewed his food.

he cannot believe how lucky he got. if he told his teenage self that he would find love that will wait for him until the sun sets and prepare him a meal ready to eat when he comes home, dote on him on the regular and makes him feel special, he would've been beaten up.

"something wrong, dear?"

your voice seems to snap jotaro out of his thoughts. he shakes his head and continues on with his dinner.

by bedtime, jotaro settles himself in bed while trying to read a book. while the dinner and shower he had earlier somehow let some tension out, he cannot help but feel like it's not enough. something is still weighing his heart down and he couldn't shake it away even if he tries.

the comfortable silence in your bedroom is suddenly interrupted by your phone.

"what's that?"

"oh, i'm just watching a drama that i started yesterday,"

jotaro hummed as acknowledgment. while he would like to stay up with you and keep up with your interests, the yawn he let out thinks otherwise.

"you should sleep now sweetheart, you're pretty tired today, i'll wear my earphones so you won't get bothered," you didn't hear an answer from him, instead, you felt him shift on the bed and put his arms around your waist. a smile was brought up on your face. such a simple gesture yet you know it's jotaro's way of saying that he appreciates you even in his worst days.

a few minutes passed, the silent whirl of your air conditioner enveloped your room. while all is well and cozy, jotaro still couldn't help but feel like something is missing. exhaustion from his body telling him to sleep, the warmth of your body beside his, the early call time that he has to meet tomorrow, yet none of those things were enough to make him fall asleep.

until jotaro had an idea.

he initially thinks it's stupid but it's worth a try.

while you were focused on the show that you were watching, you felt jotaro poking your shoulders.

"what's wrong, why aren't you asleep yet?" you asked jotaro while you take your earphones off.

there was a slight pause in the air and you swear you feel the hesitation but opt to let him speak once he's ready.

"can i– can i touch your breast?" jotaro feels his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. he feels like a stupid teenager for asking such a ridiculous request.

while you were shocked to say the least, entertaining a simple request from your beloved shouldn't be a problem

"okay," jotaro could practically hear the amusement on your voice but he couldn't care less. once the green light is given to him, you can feel his calloused yet gentle hands go under your shirt and towards your boobs.

you feel him cup you breast gently, "is this fine?" you gave him a subtle nod. it's actually quite comfortable, you thought. his hands provided warmth and his hold is gentle enough not to hurt you, like his hand is a mold of your bosom.

you can hear jotaro release a sigh of relief in your ear and felt him cuddle closer towards you.

the two of you stayed that way while you continuously watch your show until some time, you felt his hold from your chest loosen, indicating that he finally fell asleep.

you smile at the thought and decided to close your phone and shut your eyes, ready to meet jotaro in your dreams.

ever since that faithful night, jotaro always asks if he could touch your breasts from time to time while you cuddle or take a nap if his day gets too overwhelming for him.

and you couldn't be any happier to oblige to his request.

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jotaro fluff #jotaro x reader #jotaro x you #jjba fluff #jjba x you #jjba x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure x you #jotaro x y/n

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cozage · 1 year

Note

OMG HIII I LOVE YOUR WRITINGGG this is gonna be my first request ever (literally having a nervous breakdown) but I wanted to request a fem reader who is the bio daughter of whitebeard and comes back after 2 years of shinobi training to meet the new crew member Fire fist ace! and can you pls make it a short fic (I cannot fathom the words of how obsessed I am with this man IFDFJDKDGJK) (also can she have a DF that's associated with lava? pls and thank you *literally bowing*)

A/N: God this was so adorable to write. I'm so obsessed with this fun little story. Literally once I started writing I couldn't stop. thank u

Characters: female reader, Ace, Marco, Whitebeard & Crew

Cw: alcohol, drunk reader

Total word count: 2.3k

Part 2 | Table of Contents | Read on A03

The Daughter��s Return Chapter 1: The Promised Position

The vivre card in your hand continued to move forward, but you could see the familiar outline of the Moby Dick ahead of you, and you grinned at the sight of being so close to your family again. You had been training for two years, and you couldn’t wait to catch up with your friends and your father after being apart for so long.

Your small boat looked even tinier as the giant ship loomed closer to you, but you weren’t concerned. Blue flames shot into the sky from the blue ship, and you sent out a stream of lava into the air in return. It was your code to the first division commander and friend, proof that you were who they were expecting.

You saw a creature with blue flamed wings shoot into the sky, and you gathered up your things. You only had a small backpack and a few bags of food, so there wasn’t much to pack up. You said goodbye to your small raft, thanking it for its usefulness during your journey.

Marco landed on your boat, and you squealed in delight seeing your brother again. He wrapped you up in a hug and spun you around, laughing gleefully at your return.

“Pops is going to be thrilled to see you,” he said, sitting you down. He ruffled your hair affectionately, smiling at you. “Missed you, kid.”

“Missed you too, Marco,” you said, grinning at him. You picked up a bag, handing it off to him to carry back to the ship.

“You’ve grown!” he commented. “I can’t look down at you anymore.”

You gave him a cheeky grin. “I’m stronger too.”

“You better be!” He laughed. “Pops didn’t smuggle you into Wano for you to come back the same!”

“Maybe he’ll finally make me commander now.” You stared up at the ship, thinking of the goal you’d been working towards since the beginning of your training.

“About that…” Marco trailed off, and you shot him a suspicious look.

“What?”

He sighed, deciding to prepare you. “Pop’s filled the second division commander seat, actually.”

“What?” you hissed. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“With who?” you demanded. You refused to believe him. “I thought nobody wanted it.”

“It’s a new guy.”

“A new guy?” you scoffed. “You’re pulling my leg, Marco. It’s not funny.”

Marco looked nervous talking about it. “Let’s go see Pops, alright? He’ll explain.”

You scowled, and your stomach clenched in anticipation. “Yeah, let’s go. I have some words to say to him.”

Marco wrapped his arms around your torso and extended his phoenix wings. “I’m glad to see you’re still a hothead.” You could hear the teasing in your voice, but you weren’t in the mood for jokes anymore.

“Shinobi training can’t fix everything,” you grumbled. You could feel your skin getting warm, a sign you were letting your emotions get to you.

You heard a lot of low whispers and mumbling, but you paid the new recruits no mind as you stormed across Moby Dick. Your father wasn’t on the deck, so you continued on to the command room.

“DAD!” you screamed, and you could see some of the newer members slink away from you in fear. A part of you felt some pride to have such an impact, but you were too pissed to revel in it.

You slammed the command room door open to find your father speaking with another man you didn’t recognize, but you paid the guest no mind. You were too focused on settling the score of the second division commander seat.

Whitebeard smiled at you. “Y/N! You’re-”

“You bastard!” you shrieked. You pulled out a kunai, pointing it at your old man. “You promised!”

The unknown man threw a knife and knocked the kunai out of your hand, and you turned to glare at him. He was shirtless and was wearing an obnoxious orange hat, and he was returning your gaze with a look of equal irritation.

“Stay out of this, newbie,” you hissed at the man.

You reached into your pouch to grab another kunai, but he lunged at you, grabbing your wrist to stop you.

“I don’t know who you are,” the man said in a low, dangerous voice. “But you have no right attacking Pops the moment you get on our ship.”

“Stay out of my affairs,” you snarled.

You turned your wrist to lava rocks to burn his hand, but at first the man didn’t react. You frowned, turning up the heat to liquidize your arm into magma, and finally the man pulled away in pain. He looked down at his hand in shock, as if he wasn’t expecting to be burned. You couldn’t blame him. It’s not everyday someone’s skin turns into boiling liquid.

Whitebeard laughed loud and hearty, breaking the tension between you and the man, and you refocused your anger back to your father.

“Never a dull moment with you around, kid! It’s great to have you back,” he laughed, and your face flushed with anger.

“You promised me a commander position when I got back,” you yelled at him. “Who the hell did you give it to instead?”

Whitebeard laughed even harder. “That would be Ace.”

“Who the hell is Ace?” you hissed.

The shirtless man raised his hand. “Uh-”

“I said stay out of my affairs!” You could feel steam coming off your head. Sometimes that happened when you got too angry.

The man pointed at himself. “Me. I’m Ace.”

You could feel your insides turning hot, lava coursing through your veins.

“You’re joking,” you said. You glanced at your father, who was still smirking at the two of you. “He’s joking, right?”

You father raised his eyebrows, his gaze darting between the two of you, but he said nothing.

“Portgas D. Ace,” the man said, holding out a hand to you. You rolled your eyes and turned away from him, facing your father.

“This guy?'' Your voice was full of skepticism.

“Hey!” Ace yelled from behind you. “Don’t underestimate me!”

“I could squash you like a bug,” you shot back, still refusing to look at him. “Dad-”

“The decision was made with good reason, my girl,” Whitebeard said. “You’ll be working alongside him closely in the second division.”

“No, I won’t,” you laughed, rolling your eyes at his suggestion.

“Yes, you will.” You could hear the seriousness in your father’s voice, the warning of consequences thick in his tone.

You decided it was best to not outright defy him, and you switched your tactic from stubborness to logic.

“I’ve always been under Marco,” you reasoned.

“You’ll be better suited in the second division now.” You could feel Ace smirking behind you, and you resisted the urge to turn around and punch his teeth out.

“Let me get this straight,” you said, trying to keep a level voice. “You give my commander position away and then tell me I have to work under the guy who took it from me?”

Ace laughed. “The second division position has been open for-”

You flicked a volcanic rock back at him, and he yelped in pain.

“Marco is a fire user like me,” you worked to plead your case further. “And I know him. I would work better under him.”

“The first division is a medical division now,” your father explained. You could see you were testing his patience, but you didn’t care. “Your talents are better served on the offensive front, which Ace leads.”

“But-”

“Plus,” your father added, cutting you off. “Ace is a fire user as well.”

You felt warmth spring up behind you, but you refused to give Ace the satisfaction of being acknowledged.

“Dad-”

“I’m not wavering on this decision,” he said with finality.

You felt your father’s conqueror’s haki spread out over the ship, and you knew that you had lost the argument. You could hear Ace stumble slightly behind you, and you resisted the urge to argue even further over the man’s weakness. At this point it would only make your father angry, even if you were right.

“Fine, fine,” you sighed, giving up. There’d be plenty of time to talk with him about the position and prove your worth. “Can we at least have a party?”

Whitebeard’s overwhelming presence disappeared and his jolly laugh returned in an instant, already forgetting your alls squabble. He stood up, wrapping you in a comforting embrace, leading you past Ace and out onto the deck.

“My daughter has returned home!” he shouted, and the crew cheered. “Prepare a feast!”

At least the party life on the Moby Dick hadn’t changed at all. You could still beat just about anyone in a drinking contest, and by halfway through the night, your mind was cloudy from the alcohol.

You took a step away from the party and the fun to get a moment alone with the stars. You took a drink of the ale in your tankard, staring up at the million lights in the sky and thinking about how different the constellations looked during your time in Wano. You were so close to that country and those people, yet so far.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” a male voice said behind you, startling you from your thoughts.

You glanced back to find Portgas D. Ace walking towards you, looking up at the night sky. He was attempting to be casual about the whole thing, as if he had randomly found you here, but you could tell that he had most likely searched you out on purpose.

You rolled your eyes and turned away from him. He wasn’t even worth giving the time of day. He hadn’t done anything to prove he was anything special yet.

But Ace obviously wasn’t willing to give up that easily, because he came and stood directly next to you. His eyes were still on the sky, just like yours were.

“I just feel like since we’re going to be working together, we should probably get to know each other a little better,” he said.

You thought of plenty of snarky responses, but said none of them. You knew the silent treatment would be the best way to shut him down. Portgas D. Ace was not your friend. You wanted nothing to do with him.

“Are you happy to be back on the ship?”

Still nothing came out of your mouth. You didn’t even look his way, you simply took another long drink. But you could see him starting to pout. It was only a matter of time before he gave up and returned to the party. You just had to keep your mouth shut.

“All the guys said you had a pretty smoking ability. But I dunno, I think my fire ability is pretty hot.”

You scoff at that. “I’m hotter,” you shot back.

Damn him. He could rile you up, and he knew exactly how to. You could see him smirk in the corner of your eye, and you cursed yourself for being so easy to manipulate.

“That’s what they all said too,” he said quietly, a smile still lingering on his face.

You turned to look at him, your face full of frustration. “What do you want?”

He seemed surprised by your question. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you speaking to me?” you demanded. “What do you want?”

“Wh-No-I just-” Ace stammered, trying to find his words.

You stared at him, your scowl deepening every time he started his sentence over.

“You’re Whitebeard’s daughter, aren’t you?” he finally asked.

“Yeah. And?”

“I’ve just heard a lot about you,” he said.

“And?”

“I dunno,” he said. “You intrigued me.”

You scowled at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I dunno!” He let out an exasperated sigh, turning his gaze to the stars. “You were just this larger than life story people always told since I got on this ship. Everyone always had something to say about you. I guess I just wanted to know how much of it was true.”

“All of it is true,” you said.

Ace let out a laugh, and then clamped his hand over his mouth to stop himself. “I really hope not.”

Your eye twitched, and you could feel your skin starting to tingle. “If people are lying about me, they’ll pay for it.”

“Marco talked about you like you were this sweet little kid.”

“Marco’s delusional.”

Ace laughed again, and this time he didn’t stop himself. You found yourself smiling along with him.

“He definitely sees the best in people,” Ace said.

You shot him a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You could see Ace tense. “Oh, nothing! I-”

You let out joyous rings of laughter now, and you see Ace give a strained smile, mostly unsure of how to react to your sudden friendliness.

“You’re funny, Portgas D. Ace.” You go to take another sip of alcohol, just to find your cup empty. You frowned at it, and turned to go find more booze.

“I’ll get it,” Ace offered, holding out his hand to take your cup. “I’m empty too.”

You nod, handing it off to him. The party was so loud anyway. You preferred the quiet atmosphere this late in the night. He strode away, and you watched him go, your father’s emblem displayed proudly on his back. He still wasn’t anything special, but at least he wasn’t scared of you like half of the crew.

You hadn’t realized how much alcohol you had drank throughout the night until you were alone, and suddenly the world was spinning. You laid down on the deck to get your bearings, and then found yourself stuck there.

When Ace came back, he found you sprawled out, staring upwards.

“You okay?” he asked. He bent down to look at you, his face obscuring part of the sky.

You giggled. “Your freckles look like stars.”

“You’re drunk.”

“No you’re drunk.”

He chuckled. “Your insults get worse as the night goes on.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, and then patted the deck next to you. “Come lay down.”

He obliged, his head resting next to yours. “What are we looking for?” he questioned.

“Shhhh!” you hissed, pressing a finger to his mouth. “You’ll scare them away.”

You felt his lips turn upward against your finger, but he was quieter when he spoke.

“What are we looking for?” he whispered.

“Shooting stars!” you whispered back.

“Oh,” Ace whispered. “Of course.”

“Tell me when you find one,” you said quietly. “I’m going to rest my eyes for a minute.”

You’re not sure if he ever found one. You were asleep before he responded.

#im a sucker for stargazing SUE. ME!!!!#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace x y/n #portgas d ace x you #ace x reader #ace x y/n #cozage #the daughters return #✧˚ace✧˚

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tkaulitzlvr · 1 year

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THE WRONG WAY - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: tom hasn’t been paying you enough attention lately, and, when you finally snap, he can’t understand where you are coming from, until you reach your breaking point. can the issues between you and him be resolved?

content: angst

a/n: pulled this out of my ass lol, i had to rush it because i’m in the middle of another req but it’s nowhere near done after like three hours of writing so i’ll have to finish and post it tomorrow. sorry if there are mistakes, i only proofread veryyy briefly cause i’m so tired rn😭 hope this is okay tho!!

"you don't love me."

i voice the harsh words to the silent room, clearly and with every sense of belief behind my statement. to my discomfort, saying it out loud does not make me feel any more at ease, in fact seeing the way tom’s entire body breaks for a second, processing what i had just said, before trying to cover the hurt on his face up, only suffocates me even more. the lump in my throat only gets bigger, the tension in the air thickening by the second.

"wow." he begins, shaking his head, trying to wrap his head around how i could even come to that conclusion. "that’s an awful accusation." he glances at me, his eyes already glossy, giving me enough of an idea on how much i have hurt him by uttering those four words. however i stick to it, figuring that it is too late to back out now. within me, behind all the anger, all the upset, i feel that it is true. i sense that he no longer feels the same way he did when he met me, all those years ago, the love within his eyes slowly diminishing until it is now long gone.

"and also." he speaks, leaning forward and looking directly into my eyes, staying in his position spread on the end of the other couch. "it's not true. you know it isn't."

the pressure of his gaze leaves me unable to hold eye contact with him, looking away sheepishly into my lap, hoping that somehow the ground could swallow me up. i grit my teeth, locking my jaw in anger, feeling no reassurance from his quick denial of my statement. so i decide to challenge him, standing my ground despite the nausea only growing within me. though his voice seems somewhat certain, i refuse to believe that i am making it up, that it is all in my head. "do i though tom?"

my eyes meet his, except the ones looking into me are foreign. they are angry, a glint of hostility present within them that i had not yet witnessed, this change taking me aback, yet i refuse to look away. he is sad. those eyes, past the resentment in them, i see pain. i see sorrow. i have upset him, far beyond what he intends to let out. he is usually strong, and perhaps right now he thinks that he is keeping this up, yet i can read him like a book, the way his left brow furrows, creating a crease along his forehead, the way his eyes cannot focus on one thing, darting around the room, i can see that he is struggling. and whilst part of me hurts with him, hating to put him through any sort of distress, i need it right now. because i am tired of feeling unloved and unappreciated - regardless of whether tom intends to make me feel this way or not.

he shakes his head, scoffing slightly in disbelief, letting out a shaky sigh, before speaking up, his voice loud, in contrast to the silent room. "what, so i've been lying every single time i’ve told you that i love you, over the past six years that we've been together? mind you, i say that every day, without fail."

i stay silent, my eyes becoming glossy as they quickly tear away from his. he takes my silence as a cue to continue, my sudden belief that he does not love me angering him as he desperately seeks to remind me of every reason why i am in the wrong. "don't i do everything for you? make sure that you're always safe, give you my everything-"

"give me your money, you mean." i reply, cutting him off. i don’t want to seem ungrateful - i appreciate the way tom would spend any amount of money on me if it made me happy. i am thankful for the house he has given me, the vacations he takes me on, the things he buys me, but those things are not the reasons why i fell in love with him. i fell for tom kaulitz. not his money, not his fame, not his profession. i fell for who he is, for him as a person, whether he is rich or poor, yet it feels that day by day i lose a small part of that. i have always understood that his job means that he will be away a lot, but it is hard to be in a relationship with someone that can't always be there, only their fortunes can.

"i’m grateful for what you do for me, really i am, but i'd much rather have time with you than the latest gucci bag, or the newest chanel perfume. if it meant that i would have to live with nothing for the rest of my life, i would do it. don't you understand? i want you - not your money tom! i don't need you to apologise with gifts when i don’t see you all day, i just...i need you." i am desperate, craving for him to hear me out, to understand that it is him that i need, but the way he looks at me in confusion shows me that i am not going to achieve that.

"i thought you liked the things i buy for you. have you been lying?" he completely ignores the point that i have been trying to make, this only fuelling the frustration within me as i exhale shakily, quickly grasping onto the opportunity to argue my point once again.

"i do but that's not the point tom! i like them because i feel like it's all i get from you!" my voice is raising, something which i did not want to happen. shouting never solves the problem, however right now i am far too angry to care. "i just want some of your time, to feel like you actually care! when you're with me, you're here physically, but your mind is always elsewhere. i just miss you. i need to you be mine again, i-"

"look, i’m sorry okay?" he begins, harshly cutting me off and matching the volume in my voice. "i'm sorry that my job is more demanding than others, i’m sorry that it needs a lot of my attention, but i told you this from the beginning. my career is a big part of who i am and things aren't always easy. they get hard, they get tough, but-"

"that's my problem! when things get hard for you, i don't fucking know about it! because you shut me out, every. single. time. i'm your girlfriend, tom. i want to know about your life, i want to help you, but you always run away from me! you spoil me with gifts and money to compensate for every fucking time you leave me in the dark! i don't want it anymore. i just want you to communicate!" i move from the couch, walking to the middle of the room and standing a few feet away from him. his eyes are glued to me, watching my every step, and he is listening to me this time. "am i such a headache to be around, that you can't talk to me? that you can't deal with spending time with me, so instead you spend your money to try and shut me up, because you have so much that no matter what you buy, it doesn't affect you?"

"don't." he voices shakily as i stare into his eyes, his expression more wounded than ever. my words stab into him, hitting him harder than i had anticipated. his fists clench against his thighs, holding every ounce of frustration. though we have argued in the past, i have never seen him this upset, regardless of whether he intends to show it visibly or not. "you know that i don't think of you that way, even for a second. so stop."

"you can't blame me for thinking it tom." i shrug. "you leave me out of everything, i have no idea what's going on in your life anymore-"

“because i'm trying to fucking protect you!" he interrupts, raising his voice once again. his hand slams against the arm of the couch, the sudden contact causing me to wince slightly. "i'm sorry if you feel like i'm hiding things from you. but i know parts of my life would just stress you out and hurt you. don't you get that? i'm trying to save you from the pain-"

"i want the fucking pain!" i fire back. "we are supposed to be in a relationship. do you know what that means? i want to suffer with you. i would choose that, a million times over, if it meant that i could be with you for another day. i want every part of you, the sad, the happy, the angry, i want it all. can't you see that i need you? i hate being left in the dark. i absolutely fucking hate it.”

my voice pierces through his ears, diminishing the tense silence as tom gulps, clenching his jaw and leaning forwards, pinching his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. the rash and quick responses don’t allow me time to calm down, my eyes becoming glossy with tears, the salty liquid staining my cheeks before i can try to hold them back, my weakness just as evident as tom’s. the pain, the upset, the lack of affection that have been feeling all spills out, reeling outwards from within me as i let it out, no longer attempting to hold back.

he looks up, his face softening as he takes in my hurt expression. he has never seen me like this, so broken, and the fact that he is the cause of this pains him even more, his mind coming to the slow realisation that it is up to him to fix this. although he doesn’t fully understand how i could possibly believe that he does not love me, he wants to try, to try and see from my eyes. he lets out a shaky sigh, swallowing nervously before looking into my eyes.

"i would rather feel the sadness, suffer with you." i begin, my voice small as the tears quickly take away my physical strength. "i would do absolutely anything if it means that you will love me, that you will do it with me, tom."

"i don't live a normal life, and i just want to keep you away from the crazy things." he speaks slowly, trying to reason with me, refusing to turn his gaze away from mine. "some people want to hurt me, and i would never forgive myself if someone ever did anything to harm you."

i try to wipe my tears and calm my breathing, wrapping my arms around my small frame in an attempt to comfort myself, quickly becoming overwhelmed with the situation. but my mind acknowledges tom’s change in tone. not only is he more gentle and calm, he also seems sorry, like he now recognises where he went wrong.

"what do you want me to do?" he whispers, defeated as his tired eyes meet mine. he is no longer angry. he is desperate, longing to resolve this. "i'll do anything. i- i can't lose you. you're my world, schatz, and i'm sorry if i haven't shown it, but you are everything to me."

though there are millions of things i could say, i stay silent, standing still across the room. my heart clenches painfully, hurting at the sight of him so distraught, as his mind considers the dreaded idea of what losing me would be like. his world is crumbling before him, the one thing he seeks to protect seeming to slip through his fingers. i have never seen him like this, so vulnerable, so desperate, and whilst it comforts me to know that he is slowly letting down the walls that have prevented me from truly being with him, it saddens me to see him in such a distraught state.

"all i've ever wanted is to keep you safe. to keep you happy, liebe, because if you're happy then so am i. but you deserve more than this." he points to himself angrily, letting out a shaky sigh. "more than this fucking idiot, who doesn't even know how to love. i’m so sorry if i've done it the wrong way and made you feel like i don't care. because you shouldn't for a second think that i don't love you."

everything that i have been craving to see is happening in front of me. i have longed to see him open up, to break down the barriers that separate us both physically and mentally. i don’t want him to be strong all the time, and it hurts that he feels he has to be. the tears fall from my bloodshot eyes once again - this time out of sadness for him. i hurt with him, hating to see him so upset, but i understand his pain, his anger, and i feel every emotion along with him. for the first time in forever, i feel connected with him.

after a few moments of silence, he stands up, slowly walking towards me. i refuse to meet his gaze, fearing that i will break down once again i realise how hurt he truly is, and looking into his eyes will certainly display every emotion amongst his beautiful features. his hand brushes tenderly against my cheek, wiping a fresh tear that had fallen. he reaches towards my chin, using his pointer finger to angle my face upwards so it meets with his eyes. he towers over me, taking in the sorrow etched upon my face, before tucking the loose strands of hair behind my ears, gently caressing my cheek with his lips slightly parted, shaky breaths escaping from them.

"please, look at me." he whispers, gazing longingly into my eyes. i comply, shifting my own eyes to the deep brown ones in front of me. they are full of adoration, and i feel the man that i fell in love with slowly coming back to me. "i love you, so so much, please believe me schatz. you are the most important person in my life, and i am so sorry that i've made you feel the opposite way." he chokes up, his voice shaky as i can tell he is on the verge of tears.

i listen to him, allowing every word to sink in, as it is now no longer hard to trust what he says. i feel what i have been desperate to - love. i feel truly appreciated, like i am able to confide in him like i once could. though frustrated it took the both of us to get to this state to make him speak his mind, i appreciate him opening up, his apology making up for the lost time. there is no shame in being fragile, and through his entire conversation, we have both learned this, a new found appreciation for each other gained as i feel safe again.

"don't feel like you have to keep things to yourself. i’m your girlfriend, i'm supposed to be here for you, and i'll gladly do it, but you have to talk to me." i respond, lacing my hand with his. a soft smile spreads across his face, contrasting with his bloodshot eyes whilst he slowly nods.

"i hear you. i’m so sorry baby. i love you." he whispers, pulling me into a tight hug as his hands lace together around my waist. he lets out a sob onto my shoulder, my heart breaking at the sound. he clutches onto me tighter as if i may slip away, my own eyes tearing up once again. it has been a while since i felt like this. i feel loved, and it is all that i have ever wanted from the start.

he slowly pulls away, resting his forehead against mine and looking into my eyes through his eyelashes. after a few seconds, he leans inwards, until his lips touch mine. the kiss is gentle, carrying every promise to love and cherish me like he has failed to do, and i gladly accept it, kissing back quickly and wrapping my arms around his neck. he pulls away, planting a few pecks on my lips once again, his breath shaky as the remnants of tears stick to his cheeks. i slowly wipe them away, not breaking eye contact as i do so, gently caressing the soft skin until any trace of sadness is lost within our newfound love for each other.

a soft smile graces his lips, failing to wither as he kisses me once again, the same amount of passion as the last, making up for the lost affection as i feel more treasured than ever. this is all I have ever wanted, to feel like he cares, and now that i am feeling his affection, my mind is oozing with contentment, the feeling almost foreign it has been so long.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

#tom kaulitz #kaulitz twins #tokiohotel #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz angst #kaulitz #tom kaulitz fluff #tomkaulitz #tom kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz

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kwanisms · 2 years

Text

Kinkuary 14 Jun — body worship // bath/shower sex

➥ idol boyfriend!Jun × noj idol!Reader summary: After a particularly stressful day at work, Y/N comes home to find her boyfriend has drawn her a relaxing bath and is pleasantly surprised when he reveals he intends to join her in the bath. wc: 3.8k warnings: afab reader, adult dialogue, alcohol consumption (a glass of wine or two), established relationship, sexual content (minors dni!): Junhui just wants to pamper the reader knowing she's had a hard time, massaging, fingering, biting, hair pulling, bath sex, unprotected sex (use protection pls!), body worship, praise, use of pet names (bao bei, angel, beautiful, etc), the reader calls Jun lǎo gōng (husband) and it makes him all 🥴🥰, let me know if I missed anything!! Permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @candidupped @dejavernon @dilfjohnny Kinkuary full taglist: @baldi-2 @wonderfulshinee @lacie220900 @sup-dallyboy @drunk-on-dk @violagoth @mixling-blog Seventeen taglist: @aikisbbq @95cheols @niktwazny303 @indigo35 @moonlightsora @witherednotes @cixrosie @kirooz Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED AND BLACKLISTED. Join the taglist!

a/n: Junhui doesn't seem to have a lot of content on here but here's some! I haven't written for him in a while so hopefully I do him justice! I hope you like this. Thank you for reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. banner made by me. I do not allow reposts or translations of my works. All my works are ©️ kwanisms.

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‘Seriously? Fuck Valentine’s Day,’ you thought as your office door closed.

This was the worst day you’d experienced of the year and it was only the second month.

You sighed and leaned forward, resting your head on your arms on top of your desk. ‘I can’t take much more of this,’ you told yourself. A knock at your door brought you out of your stupor, sitting up and calling out for the person to come in.

“You look stressed,” your supervisor said as she walked in. You forced a smile. “Stressed is putting it lightly,” you replied before taking a deep breath. “How can I be of assistance?” You asked. Your supervisor shook her head.

“I’m sure this isn’t the best time, but we’re over in hours,” she replied. “Normally I wouldn’t dream of asking you this, but seeing as you seemed rather stressed, would you like to leave early?” You couldn’t believe your ears. ‘Leave early?’

“Uh,” you replied. “Are you sure?”

Your supervisor nodded. “I’ll make sure the difference shows up on your next paycheck so you don’t lose pay,” she added. “I just need to send people home.”

You didn’t need telling twice. Shutting down your computer and turning off your desk lamp, you opened your desk drawer and grabbed your purse, slipping your phone into it and getting to your feet.

“Try to enjoy the rest of your day,” she said as she gave you a smile and left your office.

The drive home was frustrating, people swerving in and out of traffic, cutting you and other drivers off, forcing you to stomp on the break more than once.

‘Could this day get any worse?’

As if cued by your damning thoughts, the sky opened up, a downpour covering the city as you drove the rest of the way home to your apartment, pulling into the covered garage and into your parking space.

You noticed that Jun’s car was in the second numbered space for your apartment and wondered when he got home. It wasn’t like him to be home this early.

The ride up to your floor was uneventful as a storm started to rage outside, pelting the windows and walls with hard rain, wind whipping around the high rise you called home as you approached your door.

Soft music could be heard inside your apartment you shared with your boyfriend and you wondered what he was up to.

Unlocking the door, you let yourself in where a delicious smell wafted towards you as you stepped into the living area and shut the door behind you. You set your purse aside, slipping off your shoes and jacket and sliding into your house slippers.

You rounded the corner where your boyfriend was working behind the counter, wearing your pink gingham print apron with a heart top and ruffles. You took in the sight as he bustled about, checking various cookware on the stove.

He finally turned and a wide smile spread across his face. “You’re home!” He said with a cheerful tone, crossing the distance to press a kiss to your cheek.

“What is all this?” You asked, looking behind him at the stove. “It’s not ready yet,” he said, turning you towards the hall that led to the bedroom. “I’m sure you want to get changed so go do that, bao bei. Let me handle this.”

He gave you a gentle push and turned to head back to the kitchen before whipping back around quickly. “Just stay out of the bathroom!”

You gave him a peculiar look before conceding and heading to the bedroom to change out of your work clothes, pulling on a sweatshirt and shorts before returning to the kitchen to watch your boyfriend cook.

“I didn’t expect you so soon,” he admitted as he worked, glancing over his shoulder as you sat at the kitchen island. “My supervisor said we were over in hours so I got to leave early,” you answered.

“Which reminds me,” you said as you got up and headed over to your purse.

You pulled out a small gift box and snuck back to the kitchen where your boyfriend was facing away. “I got something for you,” you called out to him. He turned to look at you and set down the spoon in his hand, walking over to where you stood.

You whipped out the box and held it up. “Ta-dah!” You said excitedly. “I’m sorry I didn’t have time to make them myself but work has been so busy and stressful lately and I—” Jun, who had taken the box from you, looking at it silently quickly pressed a kiss to your lips, cutting you off.

“I don’t care if you made them or bought them,” he said softly. “Thank you, beautiful.” Your cheeks flushed as he kissed your forehead and set the box on the island and moved back to the stove.

“I’ll get this done and then we can eat,” he said over his shoulder as you returned to your seat. “Do you want some wine?”

Dinner was finished soon after and you sat down at the small table with Jun, trying not to blush furiously as he set the table quickly with a vase full of roses. “Juuuun,” you whined as he finished lighting two candles. “You didn’t have to do this!”

He gave you a cheeky smile as he sat down. “Actually, I did,” he answered.

Your eyes narrowed. “Why? Did you do something?” You asked, suddenly suspicious as he took a sip of his wine. “No!” He said indignantly. “Then what’s going on in the bathroom?” You asked as he started to eat. “Nothing! Well, not nothing. You’ll see. Eat your dinner,” he said pointing at you with his chopsticks.

You decided to drop the subject in favor of eating because you actually were starving, having skipped lunch due to the volume of work you had and the lack of time between meetings.

While you ate, Jun asked you about your day, listening to your struggles and stresses of office based work. You asked him about his day and he admitted he had a very short day in comparison at the PLEDIS building. They didn’t have any schedules so most of their time was spent just messing around the practice rooms.

“Cheol said he didn’t need us to stay longer than necessary and since I’m one of the few members with a significant other, he let me go early.”

You were grateful Seungcheol was so understanding of his members’ lives outside of Seventeen and that he knew how important time with your boyfriend was not just to you but to Jun as well.

“Are you finished?” Jun asked, drawing your attention out of your thoughts. You nodded, thanking him as he got up and took your empty plate. “Thank you, babe, it was delicious.” You saw how the tips of his ears turned red when you complimented him, just another one of those Jun things you loved so much.

You got to your feet, following him to the kitchen as he set your plates in the dishwasher and started cleaning up. “Let me help,” you said, moving to grab the storage containers you kept in the far cabinet.

The two of you silently packed up the leftovers and while you put them in the fridge, Jun put the used cookware in the dishwasher. You were closing the door when you felt Jun’s arms wrap around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Thank you for helping me clean up,” he said softly.

You turned in his grip, moving your arms to rest on his shoulders. “Thank you for all this, lǎo gōng,” you murmured, leaning in to press your lips to his. You knew he couldn’t control himself when you called him that but for some reason, he simply blushed and kissed you back softly.

“I have something else for you,” he muttered in between kisses. “What’s that?” You wondered, smiling against his lips.

“Let me show you,” he whispered, lips moving across your cheek to your ear. “I think you’re gonna like it.”

Chills went up your spine as his breath tickled your skin but suddenly there was a loud crack of thunder and the room was plunged into darkness. You cried out in shock, feeling Jun’s grip on you tighten.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” he said softly, moving in the dark. You heard the sound of the drawer open and suddenly a beam of light appeared. “This is why we have flashlights,” he said with a smirk.

Keeping his hand on your lower back, he guided you through the dark apartment to your bedroom where he took your hand and placed it on his waist. You grabbed the material of his shirt as he walked carefully over to the door leading to your bathroom and opened it.

Inside was like some sort of scene from a romantic movie.

There were candles on the bathroom counter, a couple on the back edge of the bathtub and rose petals spread across the floor and floating in the water.

“I might need to get more candles,” Jun murmured as he looked around the room. “I’ll be right back,” he added, disappearing from the room as you stepped further in, taking in the sight.

You had no idea Jun was such a hard romantic as he’d never done anything even remotely like this. Normally your Valentine’s were spent at a fancy restaurant and maybe he’d book a hotel for the night or you’d come back home but this?

This was beyond anything he’d done for you before.

Your boyfriend returned moments later with more candles and you helped set them up and watched as he lit them, filling the room with more warm flickering light.

“I know work has been stressful for you the last couple weeks,” he started, moving to take your waist in his hands. “And I wanted to do something nice for you. So I asked some of the others what their partners like and they all mentioned a nice relaxing bath.”

You wound your arms around his neck and pulled him close, kissing him. “Thank you lǎo gōng,” you replied with a smile. “That’s not all,” he admitted. “Joshua said something about a massage.”

You watched as he slipped from your grip and walked over to the counter, pulling open a drawer and pulling out a bottle of massage oil. Your cheeks burned in the dim glow of the candle light. “A massage?”

Jun nodded. “I can imagine you’re probably very tense, so I thought I could help you relax. A shy smile formed on your face at his admission. “You’ve really thought of everything, haven’t you?”

“Of course,” he answered. “Now, hurry up and get in the bath,” he added.

You hesitated but you weren’t sure why. Jun had seen you naked plenty of times and you’d even showered together a multitude of times so why were you suddenly nervous?

Jun turned to face you, a sly smile appearing. “Are you being shy right now?” He asked, crossing to stand in front of you. “No,” you lied, shaking your head.

“If you needed my help, you could have just asked,” he said, one hand moving to your back and pulling you flush against him while the other moved up to the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek gently.

“Do you want me to help?” He asked softly. You weren’t sure what had gotten into you but you nodded in response, cheeks burning as he chuckled, both hands moving to the hem of your sweatshirt.

“Lift your arms for me,” he instructed, saying nothing more as you did and pulling your sweatshirt off, leaving your chest exposed to him. “God,” he breathed, eyes roaming over your body. “You are so gorgeous.”

Your cheeks burned under his gaze and his praise. It was no secret that Jun loved your body. Every inch of it and he made a point almost daily to remind you how much he loved you and how beautiful you were to him.

Noticing your flushed cheeks, he chose not to comment on them, instead continuing to undress you. “Do you want me to keep going?” Jun asked, his hands toying with the waistband of your shorts.

“Or do you want to do it yourself?”

You shook your head, not wanting to lose the feeling of his hands on your body even if they were about to be all over you in a moment. “Then turn around for me,” he whispered, waiting for you to do so.

Once your back was to him, you felt his fingers slip under the elastic of your shorts, pulling them down along with your panties until they fell to your feet. “I’ll take care of these,” he said, grabbing your discarded clothes. “You get in the tub.”

Jun disappeared into the bedroom while you walked over to the tub.

One thing that drew you to this apartment when you and Jun first started looking was the bathroom, particularly this bathtub. It was a large, deep tub with jets but the best feature and probably what sold you on the apartment in the end, was the temperature control and timer.

The tub allowed you to set a time, fill level, and had a temperature control function to keep the water hot for hours. Jun clearly had filled the tub much earlier and kept the temperature control on while he cooked and the two of you ate because as you stepped into the water, the heat was as if he’d just run it.

You lowered yourself down, leaning against the white tub pillow and sighed in relief as the hot water instantly started to soothe and relax you.

Jun returned a moment later and moved to sit on the edge of the tub, dipping a hand into the water briefly. “That temperature control feature is really something,” he said with a chuckle as he stood up and crossed to the counter, grabbing the oil and returning to sit on the side of the tub.

“Can you sit up for me?” He asked, popping open the top and pouring a small amount onto his palm. You sat up as he set the bottle aside and warmed up the oil in his hands before his hands moved to your shoulders, starting to knead and work out the knots in your muscles.

You hadn’t realized how tense you’d been but as Jun slowly worked on your shoulders and neck, it became apparent you’d gone too long without a massage.

“You are unbelievably tense,” he noted as his hands started to work down your shoulder blades, kneading your back muscles with his knuckles and smoothing them with the palms of his hands.

The pain had subsided at this point and now you were left with just a pleasurable feeling of his hands on your body. When he was done working on what he could reach on your back, his hands moved back up to your shoulder. One hand massaged along your shoulder and neck while the other moved down your arm.

You gasped when his hand zipped down your body, darting between your thighs while the other continued to massage your neck. “Jun!” You admonished but your words fell short when you felt his fingers against your sex, finding your clit and starting to draw slow circles.

“Shh,” he whispered. “I’m not done with your massage,” he added as his fingers moved quicker, the hand on your shoulder stopping as he focused his attention between your thighs.

You let out a soft moan as his fingers dipped lower, finding your slit and slipped inside, forcing a louder moan past your lips. “Jun—” you tried to speak but his hand dipped lower, pushing more of his fingers inside you, curling them and making your back arch. “Just let me take care of you,” he murmured.

“You always do so much for me, it’s my turn to do something for you.”

You let out a whimper as his fingers continued to move, dragging against your walls as he pumped them slowly, the water hindering his movements slightly.

“Your shirt is getting wet,” you commented, noticing how the bath water started to soak his sleeve while his hand was dipped far below the surface. “I don’t really care,” he chuckled, his thumb dragging over your clit as his fingers continued to move.

“You could always join me,” you gasped, biting your bottom lip to hold back a moan. “If I do,” Jun started slowly. “Will you stop holding back those beautiful sounds you make?” You nodded in response, anything to get him in the tub with you.

Jun pulled his hand free and stripped himself to his shirt, tossing it to the floor before pushing his pants and underwear down together and discarding them on the floor.

He stepped into the hot water, lowering himself between your spread thighs and leaned in, pressing his lips to yours as one hand steadied himself on the edge of the bathtub, the other disappearing under the water and between your thighs again.

You moaned against his lips as he resumed his motions from before, thumb working against your clit as his fingers disappeared inside your warm cunt. “Is it bad that I kind of want to fuck you in the bath?” He asked, pulling back just enough to watch your brow furrow from the pleasure he was giving you.

“Please,” you whispered. “I want you so bad, Jun,” you moaned as his fingers curled against your walls, pushing you closer to the edge.

“How can I deny you when you say it like that?” He asked, pulling his fingers from your pussy. “Do you want to ride me? Or do you want me to take you from behind?” He asked softly. Without a word, you moved, the water around you sloshing in the tub as you straddled his lap, your sex brushing against his hard cock.

“So eager,” he mused as you wasted no time in lining the head of his cock with your entrance and sank down on him, hands resting on his shoulders. One of his hands moved to your back, the other to the back of your head as your forehead fell against his shoulder.

“That’s it,” he groaned as your walls clenched around him. “Take your time, baby.”

You felt his hands moved, sliding down to your hips, squeezing before moving to your ass and gripping it tightly. “God I love this ass,” he rasped out, making your cheeks burn for what felt like the hundredth time.

“I could play with it for hours,” he added, kneading and massaging the flesh. “So soft,” he whispered. “Jun, stop, you’re making me hot,” you whined when he chuckled. “That’s the idea, bao bei,” he murmured.

You ignored his comments and instead focused on the feeling of his cock buried inside you but even then he couldn’t let you have that.

Though your body needed time to adjust to the intrusion, your brain said no and you started rolling your hips, your clit grinding against him as his cock barely moved against your walls.

“You feel so good around me,” he whispered, his hands moving up your back, water dripping from his skin and hitting the surface with soft plops. “It’s like you were made for me.” Your face flushed as your heart swelled with his words.

“You’re being awfully affectionate,” you noted. Jun merely smiled, kissing along your jaw. “What can I say?” He asked quietly. “I love my beautiful girlfriend and I love reminding her of how beautiful she is.”

“Fuck, I won’t last if you keep doing that,” Jun gasped as you squeezed your cunt around his length, lifting your hips at the same time. “You’re gonna kill me, Y/N.”

The water moved around both of your bodies as you set a slow but steady rhythm, your movement hindered by the water. “Keep going,” Jun encouraged, fingers tangling in your hair as you rode him. He tugged gently, tilting your head back so he could kiss and nip softly at your skin. “Don’t hold back those pretty sounds.”

You let out a moan as you felt his teeth sink into the skin of your shoulder. He was very much into biting and marking you when you had sex. You always came out of it covered in love bites and hickeys while you couldn’t do the same to him.

At least, not in places that would be seen. His neck, chest, and shoulders were off limits but his thighs and hips were fair game and you’d left your share of marks on him in those places.

“Jun,” you whined. “‘M so tired,” you groaned, your thighs starting to burn. Sex was a workout on its own, but trying to do what you usually did in bed in a tub full of water made it much more cumbersome.

“I know, angel,” he murmured. “Let me.”

You whimpered as he guided you off him and turned you to face the edge of the tub. Without another word, he slipped back inside you from behind and took over, pushing your chest against the edge of the tub as he thrust into you.

It was an unconventional position but he made it work, ignoring the water that spilled over the edge of the tub onto the tiled floor. He’d clean it up later. Right now your orgasm was more important to him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You cried out as your climax washed over you, Jun following quickly as he released into you, his sticky seed painting your walls white as you rode out your highs together.

He stilled inside you, hips pressed flush against your ass as his teeth grazed your skin, leaving as many love bites and hickeys on your skin as he could.

“There’s so much water on the floor,” you complained. Jun mumbled in response, kissing the bite marks he’d left behind as he came down from his climax. “S’okay. I’ll clean it up later.”

“Later?” You asked as he pulled out of you. “It’s still Valentine’s Day,” he said simply as he got up, pulled the plug on the tub and stepped carefully out of the tub onto the floor.

He offered his hand which you took and allowed him to help you out of the tub.

Once you were on common ground, his hands were on your waist, lips descending on yours in a rushed and desperate kiss, his tongue finding yours and one hand moving to cup the back of your neck, deepening the kiss before finally pulling away to breathe. He gave you a devilish grin.

“And I’m not done with you yet.”

#svthub #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #junhui scenarios #junhui imagines #junhui smut #junhui x reader #kwanisms kinkuary #kinkuary 2023

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