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satorustyles · 11 months

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you can't fall asleep (a kento nanami one shot)

a/n: a nanami version of this one shot! thank you to everyone who liked my first post, there's more to come! <3 -bear

pairing: nanami x fem!reader

warnings: implied smut at the end, but mostly just pure fluff

word count: 1,750

gojo version here!

sukuna version here!

Despite Kento’s busy schedule, he was always the last to fall asleep. He would stay up longer finishing paperwork or answering emails, and there would always be a bottle of beer next to him to help him ease his stress. Not only was he a full-time worker, but he was just recently promoted to a higher position. Which meant higher pay. Longer nights.

Ever since he got the promotion he’s been staying up longer than his usual bedtime, signing papers all while checking his laptop for emails. After dinner, you were almost invisible to him, with his attention solely on his remaining work and you had to wait for your time until he was finished–which was around eleven late in the evening.

“You should go ahead, baby.” He had told you, giving you an apologetic kiss on the lips. He still wore the same suit that he had on, minus the coat and the tie. He couldn’t fall asleep knowing he had unread emails and unchecked paperwork.

And you tried to sleep without him, you really did. But the bed was colder and quieter without him, without his strong arms wrapped around your smaller body and having his warm breath tickling your neck, plus the occasional, sleepy kisses you would get when you were close to falling asleep.

You missed cuddling with Kento before bedtime. You missed waking up to his kisses and groggily telling you how much he loves you and would promise to spend the rest of the evening with you, however you wanted.

But the promotion took him away from you.

You sighed frustratedly as you left your bed, padding towards the kitchen where he was still situated on the island counter, faced with piles of paperwork and a bottle of beer. The light from his laptop screen illuminated his tired features, dark circles underneath his eyes, and his blonde hair in a messy state.

“Nami,” You whined, calling him by the nickname you gave him that he immediately loved to hear. His head was quick to snap in your direction. “S’too much work. Come to bed with me.”

He smiled tiredly at you, and your heart ached at the sight of him. You hated how hard he worked every day, barely getting enough rest that he deserved. Whenever you asked him to take a break, he would shake his head and tell you that he was doing this for the both of you. So he could provide for your own needs as well.

And you hated that you couldn’t help him yet. You were still in school, and the least you could do was wake up before him and prepare his breakfast and make him dinner when the evening comes. But you knew that wasn’t enough.

“I’m sorry, baby girl.” He apologized as he stretched his arm out for you, asking you to come to him. “I just have to finish this, okay? I’m almost done.”

You walked towards him and he looked up at your sleepy face, smiling at how adorable you looked. “Gimme a kiss,” He whispered.

You shook your head. “Not until you get in bed with me, Nami. You can just finish that tomorrow.”

He sighed as he stared back at the papers in front of him, the light coming from his laptop screen already straining his eyes. You were right. This was already too much.

“C’mere.” He told you as he pulled you towards his lap and you obliged. You straddled his legs, facing him, while he did his best to clean up his mess and shut off his pc while ensuring you didn’t fall from his lap. “Thank you for reminding me, angel. If you didn’t come out for me I would have stayed for another hour.”

“You’re overworking yourself. This is too much work, even for someone who was just given a promotion. You’re like a working intern who was given all the heavy load.” You were angry. Not at your boyfriend, but at the fact that his company promoted him to a better position but the work given was somehow a downgrade. It was paperwork and meetings all over again. “I mean, I’m not one to judge, and I certainly have no clue what your responsibilities are, but I know better that you shouldn’t be working way past your eight-hour shift. That’s so unfair.”

Kento sighed and you looked up, worried that your words had upset him. But, you were surprised to see him smiling fondly at you.

“I agree. I really was planning on talking to the supervisors about this. Maybe ask if I could get an assistant so that I could have someone divide the workload.” He replied just as his hands held your waist and pulled you closer to him, keeping you from slipping down his khaki pants.

“I miss falling asleep next to you.” You sighed as you stared up at his tired eyes.

“I know, baby.” He cooed, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “I know you couldn’t fall asleep without someone next to you. I’m sorry. But you’re right, this is unfair.”

His hand rested against your back and pushed you down to his chest, keeping you there as his other hand grabbed his phone from the counter and began dialing someone.

“Who are you calling?” You questioned, struggling to move your head so you could look up at him since his hand was still on your back, his grip strong as he kept you from moving so much.

“Shh, this will be quick love.” He muttered before kissing your forehead quickly. And so you remained silent. You loved how small you felt in Kento’s hold, his strong arms wrapped around you, feeling the way his chest would rise and fall with every breath he took, inhaling the faint smell of perfume, sweat, and alcohol, and how his hand would slowly start rubbing circles behind your back…

You were slowly dozing off.

“Mr. Yamato, good evening,” Kento spoke, his deep voice rumbling in his chest and you could feel the way it vibrated against your head. “Yes, I am aware of the time. I just wanted to call and let you know that I’ll be taking the day off tomorrow.”

Your ears perked up. He’s asking for a day-off? So unlike him.

“With that, I would also like to discuss further a possible assistant you could give me. I know you trust me enough with the position you have bestowed upon me, but it has been taking too much of my free time and my wife doesn’t like how I still work even when I’m at home.”

Your heart jumped. My wife?? His wife? He called you his wife??

You squirmed underneath his hold but his grip was tighter around you, as if silently asking you to stay put.

“Ah yes, of course. We’ll discuss this further the day after tomorrow. Thank you so much, Mr. Yamato. Have a good night.” He then hung up and threw his phone on the counter.

“Now, where were we?” He sighed in relief, his eyes down at you with a cheeky smile and all you could do was stare at him in disbelief.

“You asked for a day off?”

“Why, yes of course.” He replied nonchalantly, his hands on your sides keeping you steady as you moved to sit up and face him properly. “I told you, you were right. My work was getting too much. And the day off would be a quick recovery for me to get more sleep and spend the rest of the day with you.”

You couldn’t even bother to hide the smile on your face as you excitedly leaned in to kiss your boyfriend square on the lips, catching him off-guard but eventually relaxing with a slight chuckle.

“Yeah? Sounds good, right? A day off with my baby girl.” Kento mumbled against your lips, sighing contentedly. “We’ll sleep in, just order takeout for lunch, and you’ll give me cuddles in the afternoon, and maybe have some more fun…”

His kisses began going downwards as his words trailed off, peppering your throat and collarbone with wet kisses and you sighed at the feel of his tongue tickling your skin. Beneath you, you could feel something hard subtly poking your core.

You knew Kento was getting needy. It’s been a week since you had sex, and there was his promotion to thank for it. You tried your best to avert his attention, even just for an hour, because you knew you could at least help him with his stress just a little. But he was always adamant about finishing his work.

“I’m so sorry I never got to spend more time with you, y/n.” He sighed, letting his forehead rest against your shoulder. “I let this promotion get the best of me. I never even bothered considering that you would need me, too.”

You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and rubbed his back soothingly. “Nothing to be sorry for, Nami. You were just doing your best. I’m just glad you could at least have a day off to yourself and finally talk with your boss about getting an assistant. I’ve been telling you that since Monday,” You told him and he sighed on your shoulder once again, his arms tightening their hold around your waist and pulling you closer to him, as if you would suddenly disappear from him if he loosened his grip.

He suddenly lifted his head, looking you straight in the eyes. Your heart hammered against his chest at the sudden action and the way his brown eyes stared back at you intensely.

“This time, I’ll be making it up to you.” He growled and you gasped at the sudden change of his demeanor. Before you could reply, his lips were on yours once again, his kisses suddenly becoming needier and hungrier as he gripped your thighs and pulled you up with him, taking you to your shared bedroom.

“Kento…” You sighed against his lips, your hands gripping his shoulders to keep yourself from falling from his hold.

“Shhh, let me take care of you this time, angel.” He muttered when you both finally reached your bedroom. He dropped you on the bed with a soft thud and he was immediately on top of you, capturing your wrists and trapping them above your head.

“Let Nami make it up to you for those days when he's been busy.” He then gripped your lounge shorts and pulled them downwards, and you knew that you weren’t getting any sleep tonight at all.

#jujutsu kaisen #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento #nanami x y/n #jjk #jjk 2 #nanami fluff #nanami one shot #kento x reader #kento x you #kento x y/n #nanami kento one shot #bear writes

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netherfeildren · 3 months

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The Cassandra Complex : Chapter XII : Venus

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

A/N: I realized shortly after posting chapter 11 that I’d made a small mistake in the timeline I’m intending this to follow. I included a line from Din saying Paz had already tried to take the Darksaber from him and failed, but where we’re at now, chapter 5 of The Book of Boba Fett hasn’t happened just yet. So I’ve gone back and deleted that small detail from the previous chapter, and why am I even telling you this, idk, but if you guy could do me a solid and pretend to forget my fuck up, I’d love you forever for it.

Writing Star Wars is hard

Also, the indomitable @dirtysouvenir has rendered the most gorgeous artwork imaginable of Din and Sithy, and I still can’t quite believe my eyes every time I look at it. Everyone please go show Jonis all the love and praise she deserves.

Anyways… like always, forgive me for the wait. I love you all for being so patient with me. And shout out to chapter four of Someone’s Wife in the Boat of Someone’s Husband which served as inspiration for this. You will always be famous to me!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 8.1K

Read on AO3

Tip Jar

CHAPTER XII : VENUS

What are we doing here, and why are our hearts invisible?

Anne Carson, Kinds of Water

“Just like that, yes. Good girl–keep doing what you’re doing.” His hand slides to circle your wrist, leather and the thick weave of your tunic, the slight shake of your nerves caught between. “Grip it firmly, but squeeze it gently. Yes– yes, good. You’re doing so well.”

You suck in a trembling breath, too hyper aware of the feel of his chest plate brushing against your back, the cap of his left knee gently bumping the back of your own, his arms wrapped in a loose and careful cage around your frame where he’s helping you direct the blaster at the target he’d set up several meters away for practicing. He’s got one of your wrists wrapped in the leather of his fist, the other cupping the underside of your elbow to keep your shaking arms steady.

“I don’t know why I’ve never been very good at this,” you whisper over the sound of the burning desert winds lashing you in the brow. “It’s just never come very easy.”

“That’s alright. That’s why we’re practicing again.” The hand cupping your elbow moves slowly to your waist, all his handling of you these past few days has been so intentional, cautious and patient and aware of himself and you and your reactions. Your heart beats, thumps and thumps hard enough to make you a little dizzy, a little sick. “Keep your right arm firm, but fluid. Try not to lock your elbow, let the recoil move through you steadily.”

He’d covered your hair and face in soft white linen wraps to keep you from being scorched by the sun and sand, and his voice is so deep, head pitched low so that the modulator is vibrating right at the level of your ear, the sounds of him sluicing through the linen to curl around your ear. You shiver again, squeezing your fist too tight around the butt of the blaster. You’d asked him if he’d help you practice just before you’d made planet fall a few hours ago, and now here the two of you are. A few clicks outside of Mos Eisley, he’d found a cluster of sandstacks to land the Crest amidst for a couple hours of target practice—near an area he’d told you is called Beggar’s Canyon.

You’re not sure if it’s just an excuse to have him touch you, but here you are now, in the circle of his arms, shivering with nerves and heat and want. The sun burns, but the places where he grips you burn worse, and your heart rings in your skull.

“Focus your gaze between the eyeline, eventually, it’ll come naturally, your aim, but for now, use the field the blaster sets. Squeeze gentle–” He grips your now healed elbow firmly, anchoring your arm, the hand holding your wrist moves to your waist, securing you in his hold so that when you pull the trigger, the zing of the blaster bolt leaving its chamber moves through your limb, into your chest cavity, electrifying your heart, and his hold is steadying all the way through. He’s there to keep you up, keep you strong, and so it’s almost thoughtless when you do it, a gut instinct or some muscle inside your brain desperate to flex and stretch or come awake because faster than you can blink or think, you take hold of that bolt of plasma with your mind, freezing it midway between where the two of you stand and the target he’d set.

You feel his hands flex around you, but he keeps still and silent, watching, waiting for what you’ll do next. And your heart beats faster and faster, the bright of the sun gleaming and nauseating, refracting off the sand, the plasma, your eyes. The bolt screeches and writhes and defies the laws of nature by your hand, and it does not feel good, but it does feel right.

The first time you’ve really wielded the Force since the night you escaped.

There’s something painful and uncomfortable and familiar about it coming back to you. Your breath goes fast within your chest, the taste of the desert on your tongue and the grit of sand sneaking beneath your clothes, sweaty line of anxiety down your spine, and his steady, calm breaths up against your back every other moment, this power inside of you that’s always been the cause of everything bad and only some things good. It vibrates in everything, moves through all living things, the Force, within you, within him.

“Let it go, cyare. It’s okay if you miss.” You shut your eyes and let it fall away and now it’s not the Force or you or anything else, it’s only him keeping you up against the rest of everything.

The two of you, like grief and the mountain.

“How did you meet this woman again?” You ask for about the third time, seemingly unable to keep your mouth shut and your nerves to yourself.

“She’s been keeping up maintenance on the Crest for a while now. And she helped out with the kid, watched him for me a couple times—I trust her.”

“Peli,” you repeat the name contemplatively, taking in the sight of him as he checks the pre-landing codes, flipping switches and punching toggles a little too roughly. He’s agitated, covered and swathed in it. You know he’s worried about you, the way you’ll feel being around someone else, scared you’re still feeling fragile or tired or weak. And you’re accepting it for now because you are. You are tired and you do feel fragile and you do need taking care of. If only for the time being, if only for a little bit longer. A sort of end feels very near, and you’re still working out what that such end is going to be.

“Peli,” he sighs, hitting the last button and finally swiveling in his chair to face you, and you eye him suspiciously, you know that sigh and head tilt. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.”

“Not tired?”

“No.”

“Your shoulder?”

Hurts. “Fine.”

“Cyar’ika.”

“Din.” Another sigh. Another shake of his head. You’re sure he’s rolling his eyes at you beneath that stupid lug of metal he wears on his fat head. But you hope that he’s smiling too, and you give him a soft, small one of your own, twisting your fingers together tightly in your lap. You want to reach out for him, to go to him and sit with him and kiss him again like the other day. But you don’t feel ready again. Again, fragile, tired, a weakness of heart within you that you can’t understand the source of, or you can, but you don’t want to accept it, you want to be able to move on, to get over it, to be like you once were. But that you also know he’ll let you feel for as long as you need to.

“I promise I feel okay, and that I’ll tell you if I don’t.” The target practice had left you tired and awake, and there is something moving inside of you—a recognition of sorts you can’t pinpoint exactly, but which you know is going to show or tell you something about yourself soon, the Force, the things you’d done or the things you’d do. And there’s patience too, a waiting, a readiness to receive whatever this would be without pressure or urgency. You feel entirely strung tight, a knot about to be set loose, entirely at ease, as well. Something strange about the anxiety you carry within yourself, like it doesn’t really matter much anymore and is only waiting for the right moment to be expelled.

He gives a soft grunt and turns back to face the control panel. The rolling golden sands of Tatooine like an ocean before you, and then there in the distance, the littered smattering of sand blighted little buildings that make up the spaceport of Mos Eisley. He directs the Razor Crest towards Hangar three-five, the ship jostling with the lowering of the landing gear.

“What if she doesn’t like me?” You ask nervously, following him down the ladder once he’s eased the ship into the landing bay, fretting over this ordeal of having to meet someone else from his life, a friend, which wasn’t even something you were aware he knew how to have. You hear the heavy thud of his boots against the durasteel, and then his hands are circling your waist and pulling you down the rest of the way, paying no mind to your indignant squawking.

He’d been strange with his touch, as well. As if he couldn’t help himself some moments, overcome by habit and familiarity, and then afraid and cautious in others. And you can’t understand how you feel about this either. Grateful, a sort of soft that makes your eyes smart and your cheeks bleed with heat. He’s so aware of you, so aware of what you might want or need, but then overcome, as well, needing you, wanting you. And you feel so afraid you won’t be able to give him those things—the ones he wants or needs, that you won't be able to find your way back to the way things had been between the two of you before.

“You’ll be fine,” he says, little compassion to be found for your fretting. You stick your tongue out at the back of his head, rolling your eyes and steeling yourself as he lowers the hatch, and a chirpy little voice calls, Mando!

The plank lowers, and lowers, and lowers, and finally, a mess of springy dark curls come into view. The small woman, Peli, claps her hands excitedly and spreads her arms in wide welcome of him, and something in your heart throbs.

A friend, indeed.

“Peli,” he greets her, heavy, swaying gate stomping down the gangplank, voice serious and not all matching her enthusiasm. You roll your eyes at him again as the reverberations of his steps tickle your feet through the soles of your boots.

“Hey, look everyone! It’s Mando,” she says to the chittering droids whirring around her. You follow him slowly, slinking directly behind him so that the breadth of his shoulders conceals you for a second longer before, “And who do we have here? Another unlikely companion?”

He pivots, letting you step into full view and brave shyness, a hand coming up to hover around your waist, urging you forward, but not actually touching you. The sound of your name rings in tune to the thump of your heart through the modulator. Careful, so careful, and it makes you hurt at your own self. Wanting to touch you one moment, unable to stop himself from ripping you into his arms; another, afraid, feeling like he can’t even put a gently motioning hand on your body, and how will you ever fix this? How are you going to ever be able to get the two of you back to where you were?

You take a hurt little step away from him, swallowing the heat in your throat several times before you can force a smile onto your face.

His body shifts and sways towards your retreating one.

But the small woman steps towards you, pit droids spinning and skittering frantically around her, and she claps a work hewn hand on your shoulder. “Let Peli take a good look at you.” Her gaze is cheerful, full of a youthfulness that belies her age and an even more cheerful, gap toothed smile. “Pretty girlfriend, Mando.” She waggles her bushy brows up at him. “Brought me another set of bright eyes, didn’t’cha?”

“It’s nice to meet you, Peli.” Your throat feels humiliatingly tight when she takes your hand in her smaller one, giving it a swift shake, no gentleness about the way she handles you, and there’s something comforting about the forsaking of the kid gloves. Your fracture isn’t obvious for the whole world to see, there’s still normalcy to be found for you.

She looks up at Din as you avoid his burning gaze, laughing scowl on her sunny face. “Who woulda thought you had it in, ya, huh?” She thumps a fist on his chest plate, shaking her head and moves to take a look at the Crest. “To what do we owe the pleasure? Chasing down some elusive bounty? Carbon scoring’s worse than last time.'' She chatters a million miles a minute, pulling out some sort of electric scanner, assessing the old gunship.

“We had a long trip,” he sighs, hands fisted on his hips as he watches her impatiently, turning his gaze back to your face every few moments. You want to bare your teeth at him in a snarl and tell him to stop fucking worrying. You want him to take you into his arms or hold your hand.

“Long trip, sure. That’s what he always says,” she tells you over her shoulder with a roll of her eyes. “Turns out it’s usually a gun fight or something just as idiotic.”

You snicker, enjoying the easy way she handles your Mandalorian’s surliness, grateful for the cheerful buffer she provides between your own internal angst and his overzealous worrying. “It was a long trip this time, I swear. We’re coming from the Core,” he grumbles, and the two of you follow her while she inspects the damage on the ship, and in a moment of bravery or desperation for normalcy or closeness or just him, you reach up to grip two of his thick fingers in your fist. His hand immediately adjusts and curves to wrap around yours, intertwining your fingers and taking you securely in his grip. You feel him turn to look down at you questioningly, but you refuse to look back. This is normal, this is how it should be, this is what feels right even if you need the barrier of his gloves to feel like you can breathe.

“The Core! Long way’s.” Hmm, she muses as she goes. “Got a fuel leak.” Again. He huffs. “Taking a vacation now?” She turns back with another smarmy smirk.

“Something like that.”

“Nice little honeymoon?” She teases. “I could use one of those myself.” She scans something else, and the pit droids chatter and chirp around her, almost full her height, she’s so small.

“Peli–” he grumbles. Your grumpy, shy boy; you wonder if he ever blushes under that thing, squeezing his hand in yours as tight as you can.

“Yeah, yeah. No droids, I know. When are you gonna get over that nonsense, huh Mando? It’s about time, you know!” She bends to inspect something closer near the landing gear, covered in carbon scoring here too, examines her scanner again, then clips it back to her utility belt. “Alright, here’s the deal–” But he cuts her off, pivoting while pulling his blaster in one fluid motion to shoot at a poor little droid that's gotten too close. “Hey! Hey! What’ve I said before? You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it!” She shouts.

“Din–” you scold, gripping the thick of his arm to pull the weapon down.

“What’ve I told you?” He barks.

“No droids. No droids. Blah, blah. You have got to get over that! I’m tryn’a make a deal with you here, ya womp rat.”

He jerks aggressively towards another little droid that wanders too close, sending it skittering away in terror, and you pinch his arm beneath the thick duraweave, frowning up at him, be nice, when he looks down at you, giving him a jut of your eyebrow and thrusting your chin at Peli. He groans, cursing low and grumpy in Mando’a. “Fine. What’s the deal?”

“If you let them work on the Crest–” She jerks her chin at the little pit droids quivering behind the crates strewn about the hangar in abject terror of the mean Mandalorian.

“No,” he cuts her off, stubbornness in every line of his frame.

“Din!” You scold again, bumping your hip into his.

“Come on, Mando! I’ll charge you half price–”

“Deal,” he cuts her off again immediately, the cheapskate.

“Ha!” She hoots and claps loudly. “Droids! Get to work on this lovely man’s ship. Lemme see the cash.” She holds out a grubby palm, wiggling her fingers. “He’s pretty easy, you ever notice that?” She says to you conspiratorially.

“Constantly,” you can’t help the laugh in your voice. Your first laugh in what seems like years.

“Loose knickered is what they used to call it back in my day.” And you have to turn your face into his arm to muffle your cackling, listening to him start up another string of curses beneath the helmet.

“I’ve literally never heard anyone say that before, ever,” he mutters sullenly.

“Well, you’re young.”

“Not that young,” you provide helpfully, big cheesy smile that feels slightly unnatural and rusted spreading across your face.

“Whoopee, Mando! I like this one! You really do know how to pick ‘em.” She claps him roughly on the shoulder, her little paw slapping loudly against his pauldron. “Anyway, I’ve got somewhere to be for the next couple of days, you see. I’m dating that Jawa again—the one I’d told you about,” she announces, proud as anything, big smile across her leathery face.

“A Jawa?” You repeat, making sure you heard right.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, bright eyes. They’re quite furry… very furry, but…” She clicks her teeth together, “You know…” Grins.

You look up at Din, squeezing his arm in your grip. “Guess I gotta try it.” You’re pretty sure you hear him grumble something to the effect of over my dead body, before he’s agreeing to Peli’s deal with a clap and a shake, and the promise of two hundred and fifty Imperial credits and absolutely no harm done to her droids while she’s gone and they work on the Crest.

“Treadwell, get in there!” She shouts, and the little pit droid chirps fretfully, trembling behind an R5 unit. “You can’t say no, you’re a droid. Oh, he’s not going to shoot you. Stop being a coward! What is this, a democracy all of a sudden?” Losing the fight, the droid wheels forward to get to work. “Yeah, thought so.” She turns back to you and Din. “You two can stay here, look after the shop while I’m gone? It’ll only be a few days.”

“We have some resupplying to do, but we’ll stay until you’re back,” he promises.

“And you’re not going to shoot my droids?”

“And I’m not going to shoot your droids,” he agrees, but later, you catch the too rough nudge he gives one of the little droids with his boot when he thinks no one’s watching. This man and his droid complex, you roll your eyes.

“How’s the N-1 keeping up?” He asks as she’s packing up to go.

“Just how you left her. That honey’s faster than a fathier. You should take her out while you’re here, give that baby a spin. Oh! And I added that turbonic venturi power assimilator I’d mentioned before. Remember? S’how I reconnected with my Jawa,” she nudges you with a wink. “You’re gonna be the fastest ship on the Outer Rim.”

“You got a new ship?” You ask curiously.

“Just a side project we took up while I had some spare time.” But the way he says it is a little strange, making you pause to look up and try to read the blank face of his helmet. Ah, and he smooths that same hovering hand from before along the line of your spine, an attempt to soothe or quell your curiosity without actually giving you the gift of his touch.

Peli leaves a few hours later, and she really does have a Jawa lover. The little critter comes to collect her right before the suns set, off to catch the sandcrawler before it journeys off into the desert, leaving you alone with only Din and the little pit droids for company.

And suddenly, that shyness from earlier is back for some reason. The distraction of travel and the buzz of hyperspace lost to the calm silence of the quiet spaceport as the suns set over the horizon and night settles in, cool winds coming in on the sand gusts from deep in the desert. After hours of work, Din posing as the menacing overlord barking orders and complaints, intruding on their work when it isn’t up to his ridiculous standards, the droids finish up for the night, and Din engages the hangar security system, and then the ship’s, locking the two of you in safely for the night.

“Dinner?” He asks as he moves slowly around the hull, pulling the cloak from his shoulders, a river of sand sluicing in a rain sheet onto the steel floor. The sound of it has a shiver moving through you as you lower yourself to the floor, crossing your legs beneath you at the edge of your makeshift bed. You desperately want to crawl between the covers without a shower and find the peace of evasion through sleep, secure in the knowledge that he won’t follow you into bed. He’d refused since you’d reunited, even though you’d invited him several times to share the much more comfortable pile of blankets than what you know his pilot’s chair or bunk provide. He’d not taken you up on the offer yet, and right now, fluttering heart and hot eyes and sweating nape, you’re glad for it.

You don’t know what’s wrong with you—or you do. You’re overwhelmed with want and fear, of him, of his touch, of having lost what the two of you had before. And as you watch him start to pull his armor from his body, first one pauldron, then a vambrace, then a thigh guard, no sense of congruity to the pattern with which he divests himself of his Creed, it’s suddenly like he’s standing right in front of you, and yet you miss him anyway. Miss him in a way that makes you sick and devastated.

You must make some sort of sound, a funny look on your face or a change in your breathing because he turns suddenly, a too worried, “What’s wrong?” on his tongue.

“Nothing.” You look up at him from your spot on the ground, head falling back on your neck, and you can feel the wet of your eyes, trying to force yourself not to blink so that they won’t fall—the tears. “Nothing’s wrong.”

He comes to a slow crouch before you, long legs folding down, down. “What is it? Tell me.” Half missing his armor as he poses now, it’s like he’s half him, half yours, half only-man, half Mandalorian. A little bit like what you feel yourself; half, half, half.

Pulling one glove from his hand, he lifts it, palm spread towards you, showing you his intention before he carefully cups the side of your face; thumb at your pulse, pointer and middle fingers giving your temple a soft pressure, pinky poised at the bridge of your nose. Your lashes brush against his index every time you blink, and his skin is smooth and rough at the same time, and warm—sun-hearted man.

You press your face harder into his palm, letting him support the weight of your head, nuzzling against the rough of his calluses, blaster blister scratchy against your carotid, and heat pulses all through you from the crown of your head, sliding down the length of your, still yet, too long hair, the back of your neck, your chest, pooling to settle deep in the pit of your belly.

And yet there’s something missing or different or off, like you feel empty but too full of trepidation to conjure up that old desire you’d always had, that need for him to fill, fill, fill you. Like the heat is there, but it’s remembered, not necessarily present. It all makes you want to cry and scream and go to sleep.

The truth, and plainly: you’re terrified of anything that might hurt, can’t fathom the idea of it.

Your heart beats in your throat, you taste it on your tongue, and it mixes with the sad when you say: “Do you remember when we were on Kashyyyk—when we sparred?”

“I remember,” he says, voice deep and low—through the modulator. You hate his helmet. You wish you could get beneath. You wish you were brave enough. The feeling of it coming on sudden and unexpected, thought, bitter and foul and not something you’d necessarily felt before, certainly not so viciously. It’s just that you hate that all this has happened—you want to feel the press of his lips at the crown of your head and the wash of his breath like heat moving through your hair—that you are not in the same place you once were, that you’re too afraid to move forward.

“When we switched weapons—”

He hums: “Yes.”

“It was so green there.” You turn your face further into him so that you’re speaking into his palm now, words pooling there in the cup of it like a well of truths and fears.

“It was.” The pointer and index stroke your temple, press once, twice, thrice—harder on the latter. It feels good, it feels real and reminding. He lets a heavy silence pass for a moment, he’s thinking of something, contemplating a push. “Do you remember—” He passes a swallow you can hear the thickness of, “Do you remember how I had you in the dirt—like a fucking animal? How you let me do whatever I wanted, however I wanted.” He gives the hardest press he’s given yet, at your temple, you think you feel the press against your brain, and you open your mouth to let the edge of your teeth dig hard into the meat of his palm. He growls a rough sound, a hungry sound, a sound like one he’d have made when he had you in the dirt like a fucking animal.

You drag your teeth along the hill of his palm, closing your mouth at the end. You don’t give him the wet of your tongue, you don’t feel ready to taste his skin like that just yet—an assimilation of violence.

“Yes,” you finally say, realizing that he understands what you were thinking without having to say it, or knowing how to, that you’re full of memories of past desires and how badly you want them back and how out of reach that all feels, but also, that suddenly now, in a single blink, the heat in your belly isn’t remembered, but present, alive, awake. That you’re cunt clenches once, twice, thrice around nothing—harder, hungrier on the latter. That you’re wet for him. “I remember.”

“Good. I remember every single thing we’ve ever done.” You roll your face in his palm so that you can look up at him now, feeling something like brave. “Every word, every breath, I remember all of it. Alright?”

“Alright,” you say quietly.

“And if you need me to help you remember too, then I will.”

“Alright.” And then: “What if I can’t, though?... What if we can’t ever have that again? What if I can’t remember? What if I can never give you that again?” A tear slides over the bridge of your nose, and now it’s not only truths and fears cupped in the palm of his hand but the saltwater of grief too.

“Then we’ll find something new. A new way, a different way. We’ll do it however you want now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, cyar’ika.” It’s very much a promise, a new Creed being established here.

“Okay.”

He nods, “Okay.”

The water is warm verging on hot verging on scalding. It feels incredible slithering over your tired and sore muscles, the ligatures in your arms still trembling from the blaster practice earlier today, from your overwhelm of emotions.

You hate that you’re not good at it, that the only weapon that seems to become you is a lightsaber.

The suds of his earthy smelling soap slide through your hair, slipping down your spine, over your ass and along your legs to pool around your feet and disappear down the drain. You shiver once, as though letting something fall away as you slide your hand down, over the swell of your belly, to cup the palmful of your cunt, wedging your hand between your thighs. You pet slowly at the wet curls there, realizing some of it is also the sticky slick of your desire. You were right, you’re wet for him and your clit pulses, slightly swollen and wanting. Your body is awake and hungry for him for the first time in what feels like eons.

You explore slowly, your cunt slightly trembling at the feeling of being prodded and touched for the first time in you can’t remember how long. Moaning softly, you pull your fingers from between your legs, hands sliding up now to cup the weights of your breasts in each palm and squeeze tightly. Oh, you want him, you want him, you’re afraid. Your head falls back on a thump against the fresher wall, loud enough that you hear his lurking voice through the door, you okay in there? And instead of being annoyed at his overbearing caution, his hovering, you shiver again, something coming back to you now.

Your desire.

You shut the water off, grabbing one of the soft linens he’d slung over the warm pipe for you to wrap yourself in. He knocks a knuckle against the wobbly little door, “Cyar’ika?”

Looking at yourself in front of the steamy mirror, too long, naiad hair, bright, strange eyes, you want him, you want him, you want to feel alive, awake, anything. You can’t deny your shortcomings, fears, whatever they might be called, but there is yet still a soft place inside of you that they’d not snuffed out, that wants Din still.

You turn to slide the fresher door open just as he’s readying to knock again.

He’d showered before you, after he’d fed you your soup and your disgusting fake bread he’d promised he’d find a real substitution for soon enough, and you’d needed a moment alone to sit in your grime and silence, digest your feelings. He’s clad now in one of his soft, dark undershirts, his flight pants and the helmet, opposite your towel and water dewed skin, steaming from the hot fresher.

You watch a swallow pass through his throat, words caught, slow and heavy. He clears it once, twice, tilts his head down to take in the state of you, before he says, “You alright?”

You nod, wide eyed awake. He’s standing right in front of you and you miss him and you want to shock him wide eyed awake too. “The water was too hot. I got dizzy,” you lie, swaying towards him a little, letting your lashes flutter dramatically.

Not all the way, but enough, just a little, as much as you can bear, that’s what you want from him right now.

His hands come up to grip the sides of your arms immediately, his bare hands, soaking up the wet of your skin. He pulls you into himself, pressing you carefully against his chest, and you shiver and shake against him, teeth rattling with a sound entirely lacking temperance. Your blood feels like it’s boiling, there’s desire alive and writhing in your tummy, and you squeeze your thighs together tightly, shifting from one foot to another while you drip a puddle onto the cold floor.

“Come here, sit down,” he murmurs, gently moving you to your bed, easing you down onto it slowly. “You need to take it easy,” he clucks over you, gripping your elbow to let you down carefully, keeping his hands on your bare skin until the last moment. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. You’re still tired, you’re still recovering. And you never listen. You have to listen to me when I’m trying to take care of you. You don’t eat enough, and I know your shoulder still hurts, little liar. Your elbow is barely better, and I saw you making strange faces when you were walking up the plank the other day. Your hip hurts doesn't it? Or your knee, something. No, don’t answer. I know you’ll just say no.” He talks and talks and talks, and you love him and you think that—

There’s a name for this…

He’d told you he loved you and he’d not said it again, neither had you, it felt too huge a thing to talk about again just yet while there was still so much left to discuss and bridge, but what does it matter if your body sings or screams in pain when you have the love of this beskar titan? What could you care for all the rest of everything?

Yes, Din. Yes, Din. Whatever you say, Din, as he huffs and puffs and arranges you, brings another pillow and blanket from the bunk, his only one in there, not that he cares, lovely man.

And it’s not only that you feel like you need to give him the things he wants or needs, because of course you do. You love him, you need to be able to give him things, everything, you want to be able to give him the whole galaxy. But it’s also that you want to. That to give him what he desires is to feed yourself, to live together, to be together, to give each other the things you need to stay alive.

You let yourself fall back onto the soft blankets slowly, this nest where you’ve always felt so safe and so protected and so loved, even when neither of you knew it was love that was holding you here. And you watch him for a few anxious moments as he pulls the covers this way and that, tucking them here and there, trying to avoid looking at the bare expanse of your dew damp legs. But then, taking hold of his hand, you still his nervous movements, and he finally looks up at your face, letting go of his fretting, taking hold of the bravery in the palm of your hand.

Shy—but brave. Brave—and wanting.

“We’ll take care of each other, won’t we?” You want to tell him you love him again, but there’s something slightly terrifying, gloriously intimate and fragile about the words.

“Always.”

“And we’ll keep each other alive?” Maker, I hope we keep each other alive.

“Yes.”

You take hold of the edge of the linen covering you, revealing your naked body to him slowly, exposing your soft underbelly. You hear his breath hitch, exhale on a groan that sounds like dying. His grip on your hand goes tight to the point of bone crushing pain for one brief, brief moment before he remembers himself and gentles again. You shiver at the pain, belly swooping and quivering with fear and nausea and lust.

You wish you could see his eyes, his face, his want.

“You—” he stutters, swallows, “You don’t have to, my love.” My love. He doesn’t need to say it out loud again now with teeth and tongue, he says it in all the things he does.

“You have to know that I want you so much. That I want you more than anything, Din.”

“I do know,” he says immediately. “I’ve never doubted that.”

“I want to show you.”

“You don’t have to. I know—” His other hand comes up to grip yours with both of his, caging your limb within the strength of his fists—to keep himself from touching you anywhere else, you think. But you can feel the intensity of his gaze along your skin, over your bare breasts, quivering with your hitching breaths, water droplets translating the frantic beat of your heart in their trembling on the surface of your skin. The line of your belly, the slope downward to the soft place between your thighs.

He’d seen the scarring on your hand, it was inevitable as much as you’d wished you could hide the deformity they’d left. As much as you wish you could’ve kept it from him, held an illusion for the rest of your lives together to spare him from the reminder of the things that’d been done, happened, chosen. But now… now he is to be subjected to the whole truth of it. Scars like cobwebs, strangely shimmering in silver lights beneath the surface of your skin—they’d been clever and ingenious in their torture—covering the whole circumference of your left hand up to your elbow. But also, from the lowest point of your last rib, over your right hip, traversing lower down the contours of your skin to wrap around the uppermost swell of your thigh.

They’d left their mark like they’d intended, and it wasn't something you could ever hide from him, the reality of what’d been done, what you’d chosen. It was obvious in everything, etched into your skin, a chasm in the still present distance between the two of you.

You feel like a bruise; tender, vulnerable, incongruously desperate to press on it harder and feel that dull throb, dark and ugly and on display.

His hands go tight around yours again for a moment, before he’s snatching them back to grip his bent knee, white knuckled, silent anger on display when his eyes reach the scarring.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, smoothing a hand over your hip down to your thigh to grip yourself there, digging your fingertips lightly into the plush softness. Your skin vibrates. “It doesn't hurt now.”

“What did they do?” His voice is like gravel, restrained fire-full fury.

“They wanted to see what it’d take to leave a mark. They figured it out.” The helmet turns away sharply, a short, brutal curse spit from his mouth. The tongue of his mother, beautiful despite his violence.

“It’s okay, Din.” You take hold of your thigh, pulling it up and apart, spreading yourself for him. Brave, wanting heart, be brave. He turns back immediately. “I want you to see how much I want you,” you whisper. “How much I still need you.”

You let your fingertips flutter lightly over your swollen, needy sex, and you can hear the obscene, sucking sound of your wet lips spreading apart when you part your legs wide enough for your sex to bloom. Cunt hungry and weeping for him.

Fuck, he spits, leaning closer, and his hand snaps forward to grip your ankle all the way around, pulling your foot up onto the uncompromising muscle of his thigh—your only point of contact.

“Show me, cyar’ika. Show me how much that pretty cunt missed me,” he growls.

You start slow, wide eyes fixed on the dark tee of his vizor, fingertips swirling around your clit slowly, it pulses and throbs and beats to the rhythm you can feel his own heart beating at within his own chest. But you pet it slowly, teasing both of you, and then feel lower down to the clenching mouth of your cunt—fuck, he spits again—slicking your fingers in your sticky wet. You start to rock your hips against the flat of your hand, the sound of your cunt, loud in the quiet hull, nothing to interrupt but the too desperate sound of your mutual panting. His fingers around your ankle are so tight they’ll leave a sore spot, and you can't think of the later hurt now, afraid it'll scare you out of this, all you can focus on is the beat of your cunt, the way it cries for him.

You swirl your fingertips at your opening, again, again, “Put them inside. Let me see you fuck yourself.” And it’s a demand.

You start with one, slow and tentative, a little, shocked gasp as you probe shallowly within the tight, little hole. Then further, wiggling inside until you’re impaling yourself with your own small finger, the first thing inside of you in so long, and suddenly, you wish it was him. Your eyes fill with tears at the thought, spilling over at the wish that he could’ve been the first thing inside of you after all this time, but the reality that you’re just not ready for it yet. The salted proof of your inevitable shortcomings slide back along your cheeks to drip into your ears.

“Another,” he demands. “Oh, it sounds so pretty, little one. Give it another.” You pull your single finger out, sucking, wet-cunt sound that he groans in tune with, to press another one in, mewling at the pinch and stretch of it, the slick slide. Yes, just like that. You’re doing so well, he says, a mirror of his earlier words to you today during target practice. “Roll your hips, ride your hand.” You hitch another sob, “Don’t fucking cry,” he grits, pressing your heel hard into the meat of his thigh. “Don’t cry, don’t cry. You’re going to come for me, you’re going to let me see it.” He spreads his thighs wider in his kneeling crouch, pushing his hips forward into nothing, drawing your gaze to the heavy bulge behind the plaquette of his flight pants. He’s so hard.

You crook your fingers inside yourself, hill of your palm against the swell of your engorged clit, fingertips against the spongey ridge at the front of your cunt, rolling your hips faster, chasing the orgasm you need to give him. Your foot feels numb in his grip, your cunt, on fire, so tight it hurts. Your belly hitches and heaves, open mouth gasping and you cry his name, moaning and writhing wantonly, your stomach slick and glistening again with sweat now instead of water. One of your palms reaches up to take hold of your breast, nipple caught between your fingers, squeezing tight, tight, tight. And suddenly he’s surging forward, letting go of your ankle to lean over you and rip his pants open, freeing his furious erection. The tip is red-purple and swollen fat, drooling a thick string of sloppy, white precum, and he wraps one massive fist around the angry thing. Din, Din, Din. He beats at his cock furiously, the sound of your name, the slick thwack, thwack, thwack of it sends you spilling into your orgasm, belly pulling tight, cunt twisting even tighter.

“Fuck, fucking come—fucking come,” he snarls as he twists his fist cruelly around the head and the thick white viscosity of his semen starts to spill from the fat head, bubbling up and over his fist and between his fingers, splattering heavy and hot onto your spasming cunt, coating your fingers so that you’re pushing the thick of his come into yourself, slicking you further. “Yes, yes, yes, like that. Let me fucking see it…Look at what you do to me.” And there's so much furious want in his voice, and he’s so big, long and thick, and you know it’s going to hurt when he puts it inside of you for the first time again—you remember how it hurt before, how you loved it—and you’re afraid you’re not going to be able to handle any sort of pain ever again, not even the sort you’d been so hungry for before.

But your womb pulls tight, pulses and throbs, and suddenly your two skinny fingers arent enough, you want the thick heft of his cock fucking hard and fast and deep inside of you, punching at the deepest spot within you.

His orgasm ends on a fierce groan, panting, thick chest heaving, his head hangs low between his shoulders. You pull your shaking fingers from your clenching hole, and he gives a few last lazy strokes, squeezing the last drops of come from the slick tip to splatter against your pussy. “I fucking missed this—your cunt covered in me.” His dripping cock bobs so close, and you have the sudden insane thought of him just shoving it in, holding you down prone and fucking all of his spend into your sloppy cunt, forcing you to take it and be his again. “I can’t wait to eat it. I can’t wait to fill it with my come again and eat it out of you.” There’s a part of you that might want it, that might wish for it.

“Maker, Din…” you moan, rubbing the thick semen into your overstimulated clit, your mound, up the curve of your belly, slicking yourself in him.

If you can’t have his touch, this is enough, and you bring your sticky, soaking fingers up to your mouth, sucking the come from them. He groans, not fair, sitting back on his knees, spent cock hanging obscenely from his open pants, wet and glistening. He reaches behind his head to tug his shirt up and off, leaving his sweaty chest bare and gleaming. Your eyes flutter shut, cupping your cunt in the palm of your hand, covering the slick curve of it, and you arch your back, spreading your thighs further, putting yourself on display for him.

“Gorgeous, cyar’ika,” he says between pants. “So pretty, my love.” He reaches down to squeeze his half hard cock once more. “I can be patient for you, I promise. You’re so worth it.”

He lays beside you in the dark, stretched out long and entirely clothed, but here with you, forced and convinced to share your bed with a line of pillows as a protective moat between the two of you at his own insistence.

You’re on your side, hands folded beneath your smushed cheek, wide eyes searching fruitlessly for the shape of him in the pitch dark. You want to say something else. You want to tell him you love him again, to hear the words fall from your tongue.

“What are you thinking?” He asks.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” You hum a barely breathed laugh. And then, “I know you’re scared or regretful or worried that we’ll not get back to where we were,” he reads you.

“Yes.”

There’s a name for this…

He sighs long, goes quiet for longer, and then finally: “What’s happened’s happened, which is an expression of faith in the mechanics of the galaxy.”

“Fate?” You muse, a little unbelieving.

Dark red—

“Call it what you want. We met, we separated…you were—gone. We waited. Now we’re here again. It’s meaningful, isn’t it?”

“Yes. You believe in this—fate?” I didn’t think I believed in anything anymore. But I believe in you.

“Call it what you want, but yes.”

—String.

There’s something about this that you need to consider, chew on. The fact that you’d felt, all your life, cursed to know how a thing would happen, be, end, always. Something like fate, perhaps, the whisper of it making a home for itself within the shell of your ear, and now the truth that he too believes in this thing you’ve always lived with. Destiny, what have you—you believe in the same things, you believe in each other.

“Will you hold my hand?”

He turns over, reaching to twine his fingers through yours; large, rough palm against small, soft palm. You want to tell him you love him again, you want to hear the words for him, but they feel trapped, tender, timid.

You’d always thought your destiny fixed, poised, on the tip of your tongue. A thing was what it was birthed unto the galaxy in perpetuity, and no amount of desire could absolve you of its sunken teeth. But this—this desire is like the creation of myth, that dark red thread that goes by the name of fate being pulled taught, humming in accord with a frequency heard only by the two of you.

Now: “Will you kiss me?” A beat of silence, his fingers around yours going tight, tight.

“Come here,” his voice blends with the darkness, and tugging you into himself, protective border between your bodies and his hand around your jaw, he slips a kiss onto your tongue. His mouth holds the hot recollection of being alive; the drag of his teeth against your bottom lip, the taste, your fingers weaving through his hair, your names sounding together, a pair because they belong on the same breath.

You pull back, and it’s only a small brevity, but it’s enough, and that confusion from earlier, that shiver of letting something go or taking it back into yourself, settles.

You’re afraid or regretful or both, yes, sure. You also find yourself to be, suddenly, forgiving, full of empathy. You won’t be able to have him unless you take possession of yourself first, and on the tail end of a comet breaking across the sky: I love him, but I must also love myself. He deserves someone who loves themself, but more than that, I deserve it too. To be able to give him the things he wants and needs: I deserve to be in love with myself.

You let the Tartarian memory become nothing.

Love manifests itself primarily in forgiveness.

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alt-vera · 4 months

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— whiskey girl ⁀➷

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joel miller gives his whiskey girl a gift.

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✿ | joel miller | 1.06k | ❛ whiskey girl - toby keith ❜ | part one

warnings: pre outbreak!joel miller. drinking. allude to sex. age gap.

note: who knows when im gonna post again lol stay tuned for part two tho

❝ just ain’t enough good burn in tequila, she needs somethin’ with a little more edge and a little more pain ❞

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JOEL MILLER LIKED HIS GIRLS LIKE HE LIKED HIS DRINKS.

　Strong, neat, and not cheap enough to make him gag.

　That’s why he liked you: a farmer’s granddaughter majoring in agriculture who worked hard for what she had and knew the value of respecting those around her without being walked over. A little ragged on the edges, but Joel liked ‘em rough.

　Same could be said for you. You liked Joel for the same reasons he fawned over you. He was charming, and assiduous, with enough edge worn into his features to draw you in at the drop of a dime.

　So, when you invited Joel to a local dive bar on an eventless friday night, he sure as hell wasn’t going to say no. It was rare for you both to be free; usually he was working late, or you had classes, or tests, or were helping on the farm.

　He saw your worn mustang parked by the entrance, and spotted you instantaneously as he walked inside. A welcoming aura surrounded you as you chatted with some old men, presumably other farmers who knew you from your last name and came in for a drink after a sweltering day of plowing fields. Your smile gleamed under the warm lights of the bar, and Joel couldn’t help it as his lips curled into a smile just from looking at you.

　“Haven’t been making you wait long, have i?” He drawled as he sauntered up to you, hand making it’s way into the back pocket of your jeans, pulling you closer to him.

　You directed your smile his way before bidding your goodbyes to the old folks. “‘Course not, Miller. You know that if you did, i would’ve given you hell as soon as you set foot in the door.”

　Joel chuckled, running his free hand through his messy hair. “Fair enough, darlin’. You need a drink?”

　“Please,” You replied, and Joel put two fingers in his mouth, throwing a loud whistle at the bartender.

　“Can i get a beer and a, uh,” He glanced over to you for a moment, deep eyes meeting your own, before a smirked danced across his features, “…a whiskey, neat, for my girl, please.”

　You couldn’t help as your cheeks warmed at his words. My girl. You rolled your eyes, turning your face away from him so that he couldn’t see the ruddy heat spreading across your face.

　The two of you didn’t have a label. You drank together, you kissed, you fucked. You’d make dinner for him and his daughter, and he’d take you for drives at sunset down empty country roads, radio blasting through the open heat waves as you yelled gleefully out the windows.

　Still, anyone who looked at you and Joel knew there was something there, even when his hand wasn’t in your back pocket or your fingers were grasping his forearm. You were his girl. And he was your guy. No denomination necessary.

　One whiskey turned to three before you were singing along to the jukebox in the corner of the bar, holding up invisible microphones to random folks who’d join you in your performance. Joel watched, amused, as you twirled around to the twang of the guitar blaring through the speakers. His smile grew as you crept closer to him, pretending to reel him in to dance with you like a fish caught on a worm.

　Little did you know that you already had him from the moment he met you. Hook, line, and sinker.

　His hand found yours as he gave in, not much of a dancer, but eager to spin you around. You let him lead you, swaying to the pace of the music, pulling you closer to him as the tempo continued on.

　He pulled you flush against him. Forgetting the music, forgetting the dancing, forgetting the watching eyes. He kissed you, a passionate catch of the lips that left you craving more, the dull glow of amber above you acting like a spotlight that shone on you and Joel solely.

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　Joel couldn’t help himself as reached a hand up and drew a sloppy happy face on the fogged up windows of your mustang. Your head laid on his bare chest as you both fought to catch your breath, crickets chirping loudly in the farm field, audible even through the barrier of your car.

　You felt him bury his nose in your hair, breathing in the smell of you. Vanilla, and sweet musk, and whiskey. He felt you smile against his pec, eyes stealing a glance up to meet his.

　“I have a present for you,” He spoke suddenly, voice worn and husky.

　“Better than the way you just fucked me?” You joked with a light chuckle, feeling his arm move as he went to fish something out of his jeans that had fell on the floor of your backseat.

　He held the gift in his large hand before opening his palm to you to reveal a small wooden box. His fingers inched it open, and inside was a thin-banded ring with a dainty diamond in the middle.

　You turned dreadfully quiet as you stared at the band, and an anxious prickle crept over Joel’s skin.

　You raised yourself off his chest, turning to look at him. “Joel, if you’re proposing to me before even asking me to be your girlfriend, then i’m going to chuck this out into the field.”

　“What?” He laughed, inching so that he was sitting upright. “No, no, it’s a promise ring,” He said, plucking the jewellery out of the box and grabbing your hand, pushing it delicately onto your ring finger.

　“Ever since Sarah’s mom up and left, datin’ has been hard. I didn’t even wanna look at another woman—“ Joel’s deep eyes met yours, and you felt your heart swell, “—Until i met you.”

　“I don’t want t’distract you from your studies,” He continued, “But you’re my girl, and i want everyone to know it.”

　There it was again. My girl. Your pulse raced as you kissed him eagerly, full of adoration. Joel could still taste the smooth relish of whiskey on your breath.

　You smiled at him euphorically as you pulled away, words leaving your lips before you could even register the weight of them. “I love you, Joel.”

　Joel’s thumb stroked your cheek affectionately, returning your grin. “I love you too, my little whiskey girl.”

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us hbo #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #smut #joel miller self insert #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you

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fairysluna · 5 months

Text

INVISIBLE STRING | Chapter 4: you must like me for me.

New Girl!AU — A disastrous break up led you to them; three guys living in a huge apartment and in need of a new roommate who helped with the way too expensive rent.

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PAIRING - Modern!Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader.

SUMMARY - the unexpected presence of Aegon in your room brings the so desired moment of him finally seeing you as a friend. However, you were never good at giving advice and it all ends in a big mess.

TW/TAGS - cursing, body dysmorphia, mentions of blood, insecurities, this might be considered as a slight chubby!aegon, make out session, mentions of nudity, slow burn, friends to lovers, things get heated but nothing happens. If something is missing pls let me know!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE - hi everyone, do you remember this fic? lmao. i know it's been MONTHS since i posted sth for this story, but well, i finally got the inspiration to write this, so this came out. I promise to be fully dedicated to this fic bc it's time i finish this already and bc im excited for it!! now im on vacations so i guess I'll have more time so... thank you if you waited for this fic, and thank you for reading!!🤍

WORD COUNT - 4.6k

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ english is not my first language.

When you finally entered the loft your right hand was holding three files filled with tests for you to grade while the other one was carrying your bag and the keys of your home. You quickly scanned the living room to see if someone was there in order to greet them, but it was empty and messy as usual; leftovers of pizza and a half empty bottle of Coke soda in the center table. “It must've been Aegon”, you thought.

With a sigh you walked towards your room, worrying not to drop anything from your hands and thanking the gods as you saw the door slightly open. You kicked it, accidentally hard enough to make it smack against the wall behind it, and as soon as you looked inside the room, your eyes widened in surprise and all the things that were held by your trembling arms fell around the floor.

Aegon was standing in the middle of your room, shirtless and in the middle of flexing his muscles right in front of your mirror. He noticed your presence immediately, and he ran towards his shirt that was laying on your bed and covered his naked chest with a wild expression remarkably printed on his now red face.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, breathlessly.

"This is my room!" you quickly replied, ignoring the thousands of papers that were now scattered on the floor.

"Weren't you supposed to arrive at six? It's four pm!" Aegon rapidly put his shirt back on.

"We- they let us go home earlier because it's the school's anniversary- what are you doing here?" you spoke, stammering and interrupting yourself. You were still a bit taken aback with this whole situation.

There was a slight moment of doubt in Aegon's mind that was quite evident for your observant eye; he looked away from you as his arms crossed in front of his chest to cover himself even when he was no longer exposing himself. You arched your eyebrow, silently insisting on an answer or some kind of explanation; two days ago you could have sworn he did not like you, but now seeing him standing in your room in such a condition made you overthink everything.

However, before you could think about questioning his lack of words, Aegon sighed loud enough for you to hear the embarrassment and resignation, and soon a mumble followed.

"You have a mirror," he replied.

His response did nothing but confused you even more. A frown appeared on your face, one small gesture that Aegon might have misinterpreted as an angered one if he hadn't known you enough.

"A mirror?" Aegon nodded.

"You're the only one who has one in the bedroom, and-"

"What about the bathroom?" You interrupted out of pure curiosity. "And Aemond has one too."

"Jace has been taking a shit for hours and Aemond forbade me to enter his room since what happened the last time." You were about to open your mouth to ask about it, but he was faster. "Don't ask," he warned you, and you pressed your lips together, remaining silent. "Listen, just forget this. I'm gonna leave right now, and we'll pretend this never happened. Okay?"

He started to walk towards you in order to cross the doorframe behind you. He passed right next to you, and for some unknown reason, your body decided to act before your mind could even process what was going on. Before you even noticed, your hand was wrapped around Aegon's wrist in a grip that was surprisingly strong. Aegon froze right in the spot and the first thing he did was to watch your hand, to then lift his face and lay his deep, lavender eyes on you.

Your jaw clenched, unsure of what to do since everything seemed to be happening strangely fast. The situation was confusing, and it made you act out of instinct leaving you standing there beside him, with just a few seconds left to say something before it turned into something awkward and weird.

Aegon, who would naturally and instinctively reject other people's touch, did not even attempt to push you away from him; he just waited until you removed your hand from his wrist. His reaction was quickly excused by his own mind, thinking that it was only because you took him by surprise.

"Uh…" you muttered, still trying to process what to say, "if- if there's something troubling you, you can tell me, you know? Maybe it's something I can help with."

He just shrugged, trying to make it seem unimportant.

"Not really," he said, leaving the room afterwards without saying another word.

You sighed, resigned to only be seen as his roommate and not as a friend. You tried not to think about it while you kneeled down to pick up the files and papers that fell from your hands when you entered your room, because you did not want it to let it bother you.

But, when you managed to put all your things on your desk, you turned around and saw Aegon standing in the doorway with arms crossed and a defeated look on his face, which had a slight pinkish tone that you would have found adorable in another situation.

"Actually, yes," he started, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him, as if he was scared of someone else listening to the conversation. "I kinda need help with something… I- uh, well, you are a girl so you probably know about this stuff, so…"

It was a difficult task for you to hide the emotion that lightened up your face after hearing his words, finally seeing the perfect opportunity to bond with the guy that has been avoiding you for weeks.

"Of course," you replied, trying not to speak too fast. "I can help you with anything."

"Alright." He nodded, looking down at the floor as he seemed to be putting some order to his words before they left his mouth. "So, the girl you saw the other day, the girl in the bar, remember?"

"I knew you liked her!"

"Well, I just want to bang her, but that's one way to put it," Aegon shrugged after his explanation, while you pressed your lips. "The thing is that, I think she's super hot and gorgeous, and way out of my league, and-"

"Oh, Aegon, you are handsome too!" You interrupted, and he quickly started to look impatient.

"Yeah, but that's not the point," he said, exasperated. "The thing is, the last time that I had sex, the girl I was fucking- uh… well, she said something about my body that really took me off."

"What did she say?" You curiously asked.

"She kinda made fun of it," he replied quickly, as if he was embarrassed.

Your eyes softened immediately after, and your first instinct was to touch him to give him support; however, halfway there you remembered he did not like those gestures, so your hand ended up in the air and seconds later you put it back. Aegon's breath was caught in his throat as he saw how your hand was so close to his skin.

"I'm sorry, Aegon."

"And now I can't get naked in front of this hot girl, even when I really want to!" He cleared his throat, and his tone suddenly changed, now being more angered rather than sad. "I just want to get laid, but I can't! This chick cursed me or something."

"You're not cursed," you said, trying to comfort him somehow. "Listen, you need to work on your self confidence, and-"

"And how do I do that?"

"Do what?"

"How can I work on my self confidence?"

You frowned, "I don't- I'm not sure how-"

"Oh come on!" He raised his voice with exasperation. "You're a teacher! Aren't you supposed to give guidance to your students?"

"Well, my students don't usually ask for sexual advice from their teacher so…"

"You need to help me, please," he pleaded, and you could clearly see the despair in his eyes begging you to say something useful.

You knew you could not fuck this up, not when it was probably the only chance you could have to bond with him after days trying to make him look at you as a friend. Inside of your mind you tried to remember anything that could work in this situation, all those psychology seminars you attended during your college days were coming back to your mind as you thought of an answer.

"Well, you can… try to stand naked in front of a mirror, maybe after you shower, and see the qualities of your body that you like the most."

“Would that work?”

“It might.”

“You sure?”

“Uh… Yes.”

He stood there, silently looking at the floor as he nodded. He muttered something that sounded like a ‘thanks’, and then he slowly turned around. He was visibly embarrassed, he was feeling too vulnerable to look at your face after opening up to you. Of course you immediately noticed, and, as you tried to ignore it, you found some words that you thought he might need to hear.

"Aegon," you called him, and he froze with one foot out of the room and the other inside. He turned around to look at you over his shoulder, and you sighed, "just remember that every person has his own concept of beauty, and only because someone didn't appreciate yours, it doesn't mean other girls won't… We are all beautiful under the right pair of eyes."

He clenched his jaw, gave you a small –almost unnoticeable– nod, and he left. You stood there for a few more seconds before you returned your attention to what you were supposed to be doing. The papers that now were on your desk, were waiting for you to grade them. Just the mere thought of reading through them made you sigh with exhaustion.

It was going to be a long day.

A knock on your door got you distracted enough for you to stop doing your task. The pen dropped from your hand as you turned around to find Jace with a soft smile on his face. You smiled back at him.

“Hey,” you greeted him.

“Are you too busy?” He asked, “I've brought some Chinese food to eat for dinner.”

“Let me finish revising these papers and I'll be there in a minute,” you said as he nodded.

He was about to leave, but then he returned. “Oh, I almost forgot,” he started, “the bathroom lock is broken, so you need to knock before you get in, just in case we're inside.”

“Are you guys gonna buy a new one?”

“Yes. Aemond will go tomorrow after work, we'll divide the costs afterwards,” he explained.

“Oh, alright.”

“Now, hurry or the food will get cold,” he said, and then left the room leaving the door open.

You managed to finish the paper a few minutes later, and then you went to the bathroom to wash your hands before going to eat with the rest. You did what you were told, and you knocked on the door. You waited a couple of seconds, making sure no one would reply from inside before you finally opened the door.

As soon as you opened it, you saw Aegon standing in front of the mirror and staring at himself. Naked.

“Oh, Gods!” you yelped. Your eyes involuntarily taking a quick look over him.

Damn.

“What the fuck?!” he screamed, covering his nudity with both of his hands and wildly blushing.

“Oh gods, I'm so sorry-”

“Get out!”

You acted so quickly that your legs tumbled against each other on your way out. The loud sound of the door closing behind your back echoed in the empty hall as you covered your mouth with your hand, a nervous giggle escaped from your lips before you could even try to hold it back. Your eyes were wide open, and your mind tried to process what you had just seen; Aegon fully naked.

Aemond and Jace soon appeared in the hall as they heard the screaming and the door slam. You looked at them with your breathing fast and sharp, staring at them as if you've seen a ghost. Their curiosity peaked.

“What happened?” Aemond asked, visibly worried.

“Uh- I…”

“Are you okay?” he asked again, and you started to feel a bit overwhelmed.

“I just- I need to- uh… wait for me a bit, I'll- I'll be back in a minute.”

The heat on your cheeks was impossible to ignore as you locked yourself in your room, completely ignoring their questions; you were panicking. You felt dumb, and you closed your eyes frustrated knowing that you screwed it up. You invaded his space and now he will, inevitably, put some distance with you. Now you just wanted to bury your face in the pillow out of embarrassment. How were you supposed to talk to him now that you saw him in all his glory?

And, oh gods, there was glory.

You were ashamed of what just happened; or maybe you just felt embarrassed because you couldn't help but blush at the memory of his body.

The pillow between your hands went straight to your face, muffling the groan that you let go as you fell onto your bed. Gods, you were fucked.

That very same early morning, after finishing their shift, Aegon was supposed to make his first move on the girl who had been in his mind. It was already closing time, the bar was empty at 5am and there was only him and Ceryse. She would occasionally glance at him hoping he would notice that she wore her tightest shirt for him. However, Aegon was busy trying to cheer himself up, trying to forget about that stupid chuckle of yours that still echoed in his mind, haunting him like a fucking ghost.

He had heard you, and –of course– his insecurities made him think the worst.

He was so nervous. It was almost embarrassing how sweaty his palms were; the situation was out of his control and he hated it. He was barely able to focus on his task, absentmindedly cleaning a glass with a cloth as he tried so hard to ignore her presence just to not feel so anxious. His shaky hands failed, and his plan to go unnoticed was unsuccessful; the glass slipped from his fingers and broke into pieces on the floor.

Ceryse widened her eyes and she immediately went to help him, which only made things worse for him. In a desperate attempt to keep her away, he kneeled on the floor and started to pick the glasses with his bare hands, causing small cuts all over his fingers as he did. Low curses and soft moans left his lips as the pinching pain appeared, and Ceryse —as lovely as always— tried to stop him by grabbing his hands and forcing him to stand up.

“You fool,” she mumbled, looking at the bleeding cuts on his fingertips. “You hurted yourself.”

“It's not a big deal-”

“Let me get the emergency kit, don't do anything,” she went to the manager’s office and came back in about a minute later with a red and white box in her hands. Aegon was breathing heavily. He had never felt so insecure.

With the help of a forceps, she started to remove the tiny pieces of glass from his fingers. Aegon would hold his breath, not being able to control his heartbeat when he had her so close to him; he was able to smell her perfume and see her cleavage. He knew he had to be excited, he knew he had all the reasons to enjoy that moment, but you and your stupid giggle refused to leave his mind.

“There,” she murmured as she finished. “Nice and clean.”

Aegon looked at his fingers and noticed how small drops of blood were forming in the tiny cuts. Ceryse took a small tissue and gently tapped on the wounds, cleaning them. Aegon had his lips slightly parted, stiff as a rock as he was almost scared to move. He cursed again, and she softly smiled at him as she finished.

“There you go,” she said, “clean and healed.”

“Uh… Thanks,” Aegon replied, giving her an awkward smile.

She remained silent for a bit, looking at him up and down through her long, blonde lashes. She was visibly flirting with him, but he seemed to be ignoring her. Ceryse had been waiting long enough for him to make the first move, so she now took advantage of their situation; both of them completely alone in the closed bar, about to finish their night shift. She wasn't going to let this opportunity go.

“Are you done playing that game?” She asked. Aegon frown.

“What?”

“I've noticed the way you look at me, Aegon…” she murmured. His breathing was caught on his throat when she started to slowly unbutton her blouse. “I want to let you know that… I've been wanting the same thing for a long time.”

“What- I- uh… what?”

She giggled, and it was the sexiest sound he had ever heard, yet it wasn't enough to suppress your goddamn laugh. A small ‘fuck’ escaped his lips before he could hold it back, and her hands were pressed on his thighs as she leaned towards him. Aegon hummed, cheeks burning red as he felt so exposed all of the sudden.

“We're alone now,” she murmured, brushing her lips against his jaw. “We can do it right here, right now…”

“I don't know if- If it's a good idea…”

She looked shocked.

“Is Aegon Targaryen rejecting an adventure?” she teased him. “Who are you?”

“There's cameras.”

“I turned them off when I went to the office.”

“What if someone walks in?”

“That would only make things spicier.”

“What if it's Nick,” he said, referring to their manager.

“He won't come until 10am.”

He ran out of excuses. The eagerness was visible in her eyes as she bit her lip.

“I'm done waiting, Aegon…” she murmured.

“Ceryse-”

She silenced him with a kiss, and he widened his eyes. He was unable to concentrate on whatever was happening at that moment. His heart was racing, his breathing suddenly ragged, and his hands still shaking as he tried to hold her waist.

Aegon tried to focus and enjoy this. He closed his eyes and followed the kiss, but things got a bit more complicated when she daringly grabbed one of his hands and put them in her rear. Somehow, he felt uncomfortable, so instead of giving her a squeeze, he moved his hands to her hips.

Fuck, he wanted to run and hide.

When her hands attempted to go under his shirt, he squirmed away from her touch, still managing to keep his lips pressed against hers. She giggled, thinking he was just playing hard to get, but as she repeated the action, the outcome was the same.

“Come on, baby,” she murmured against his lips, starting to feel the awkwardness of the situation.

“Just- wait… Ceryse, wait.”

“Don't be shy now…” she said, biting his lip. Aegon hissed.

“I need you to wait- shit,” he said as he squirmed away from her touch once again.

She leaned back, taking a few steps backwards before she looked at him. Her hands immediately went to her chest, to cover the skin that was exposed thanks to her unbuttoned blouse. Her cheeks lit up like fire as she realized how uncomfortable Aegon was.

“Shit…” she murmured, feeling deeply ashamed. “I thought- I thought you liked me. I'm sorry…”

“I do, I swear, I- Ceryse!”

“I'm so sorry, Aegon.”

“No, Ceryse, wait-”

She turned around and left, picking her bag from the counter and leaving the bar in a hurry. Aegon stood there, frozen in his place, his purple eyes filled with confusion to what had just happened, and once the realization hit him like a truck, he brushed his hands against his face and sighed.

“For fuck’s sake.”

Back in the apartment, you were sitting drinking your morning coffee before going to school. You were staring at the news on the TV before you heard the front door slamming close. You jumped in your place, looking confused until Aegon appeared in your sight; your cheeks immediately getting warm as the image of his nudity came back to your mind. However, the expression on his face made you forget about all the embarrassment, and you worried instantly. You hurried to stand up from the kitchen table and go towards him, he groaned as soon as he noticed you were getting closer.

“Aegon, are you alright?” You asked, but there was no answer.

He walked past you, going to the kitchen and ignoring you completely. Of course that your preoccupation did not let you notice such a gesture.

“Hey, is there something you want to talk about?” You insisted, trying to look over his shoulder. “I know what happened might be a little embarrassing for you, but I just want you to know that I barely saw anything!”

Aegon ignored you again.

“Aegon, come on,” you said. “I can help you with anything-”

“Can you?” He interrupted you as he finally turned around and acknowledged your presence. “Because last time you helped me, you cause me another fucking trauma!”

Your eyes widened in surprise.

“What do you mean?”

He sighed, closing his eyes while he debated inside his mind whether to tell you what had just happened or just keep it to himself. But you were annoyingly insistent, and he just wanted to be alone all day.

He always wanted to be alone when things went wrong.

“You fucked me up even more!” he exclaimed, making you lean back and your lower lip trembled, feeling awful. “I couldn't fuck Ceryse because your stupid laugh was replaying in my mind over and over again,” he confessed. “Like a fucking reminder that my body sucks!”

“Aegon, I didn't-”

“You fucking laughed at me!”

“I didn't laugh at you, Aegon!” you raised your voice, matching his tone. “I was nervous, it was an awkward situation. I saw you naked! Of course I would get nervous!”

Aegon went silent, pressing his lips in a thin line as his eyebrows furrowed. You took a step closer, but he took a step back. You sighed defeated, knowing that all the progress you have made to become his friend had easily vanished in a matter of seconds.

“Look,” you said. “I'm sorry, Aegon. I never meant to make you feel bad.”

He scoffed.

“Yeah, as if a simple apology would fix it,” he said, pettily.

You both stayed in silence for a few seconds, your lips pressed in a thin line as you tried to come up with a solution to your problem. It was certain that you did not have too many options, and Aegon was not giving signs of having an idea to fix it either. That is why you panicked, and your hands went to the hem of your shirt and started to lift it up.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” he asked, scandalized.

“I'm getting naked so we can call it even,” you explained, as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

“I don't want to see you naked! What is wrong with you?”

“Well, then what do you want me to do? I can't get inside your brain and take my laugh out of it.”

“I certainly don't want to see you naked!” he said.

“Alright, I'm sorry, okay?!” you quickly said, looking at his eyes. “I'm sorry that I laughed, and I'm sorry it made you feel bad.”

“That doesn't-”

“Shut up,” you interrupted him. “You are not ugly, you're hot. There, I said it! You have a handsome face and a hot body, and even though you're so grumpy sometimes, your face compensates for it. You know why? Because you are handsome, you idiot.”

“I-”

“I wish I could go with that girl and beat her fucking ass for what she did to you. I wish!” His eyes widened, he was slightly flustered. “She didn't know what she had. You're a good catch, Aegon, and if you don't start to believe it for yourself then no one will.”

You left the room in an overly dramatic walk, leaving Aegon behind with his eyes wide open and his cheeks red. His breathing, somehow, was fast and unsteady. His blood was running quickly down his body as he cleared his throat and turned around to worry about his breakfast. Yet, your words had left a feeling in his gut which felt quite nice.

Aemond suddenly walked out of his room and stopped when he saw Aegon standing in the middle of the open kitchen, staring at the unbaked bacon in the pan. He was weirded out by his brother's strange attitude.

“What's wrong with you?” Aemond asked.

Aegon woke up from his trance and shook his head.

“Nothing.”

He didn't sound too convincing.

“We made a pact, Aegon,” he reminded him, going towards the coffee machine and pouring some of it on a cup. “You are not allowed to sleep with her.” he whispered those last words just to make sure you wouldn't hear it.

“What are you talking about?” he scoffed.

“Just a reminder,” Aemond shrugged, sipping his coffee while Aegon finally turned on the stove.

“Shut up.”

It was 6pm when you arrived back in the apartment after a long day at school. You were dragging your feet through the hall and towards your room, noticing that neither Aemond or Jace had arrived yet, and Aegon was probably in his room. It had been a long day, and the only thing that you craved was a nice and warm shower before going to bed. It was a need.

After your discussion with Aegon in the morning and the tiny bug in your chest that was making you feel guilty all day, you needed some time to relax, to stand beneath the warm water and let it wash away all the stress of your body. So that's what you did.

You took off your clothes the moment you stepped into the bathroom, then quickly got in the shower, feeling the warmth wrapping your body. Your shoulders immediately relaxed and you saw all your troubles vanished in that instant, you let yourself sigh.

Your mind went blank and all you could feel was the warmth and comfort the water produced. It was lovely, it made you forget about all the issues and troubles.

When you finished, you stood there for a bit longer, enjoying the last moments of peace before you would cross your path with Aegon's.

What you did not expect was that, at the very moment that you opened the shower curtain, Aegon opened the door.

And he looked at you.

Naked.

You screamed as your hands went to cover yourself as much as you could. Aegon's mouth dropped as he stared longer than he should have, his pale cheeks turning red as he swallowed hard.

“Aegon!” you yelled his name.

Only then he seemed to react, because he immediately muttered a small ‘sorry’ and then he closed the door. You immediately took the towel from the hanger and you covered yourself, breathing fast. You almost slipped in your way out of the shower, silly movements as you were still trying to take in what had happened.

That goddamn door lock.

Then, in the middle of the silence, you heard him speak.

“Well, I guess we’re even now, aren't we?” he joked on the other side of the door.

“Shut up!” you said, between nervous laughs.

He laughed it off too, and that sound made you smile wider as your cheeks got warm.

It was true though; now you can finally call it even.

BOLD MEANS I COULDN’T TAG YOU

INVISIBLE STRING TAG LIST — @aemondssiut @tillyt04 @doublesparrows @afro-hispwriter @chrisevansslutttt2 @fan-goddess @trshngyn @hiatuswhore @heavenly1927 @deltamoon666 @sahvlren @kravitzwhore @watercolorskyy @n4tforlife @lovevellichor @f4ll-for-you @namelesslosers @jvpit3rs @marytargaryen @geminidas @aphroditeisamilf

follow @by-fairysluna for updates.

#invisible string #newgirl!au #modern!aegon targaryen #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen #hotd #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon ii targaryen x y/n #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii targaryen x you #aegon ii targaryen x female reader #aegon ii x reader #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #hotd fanfic

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dearabhi · 3 months

Text

book dates • harry james potter x reader!

PART 1 of the series!

SUMMARY: harry has a crush on mikayla greene and wants to talk to her. he goes to y/n l/n in need for help.

TROPES: slytherin x gryffindor, strangers to lovers?, almost unrequited love, oblivious daft dimbos!

author's note! hey everyone! welcome to the new series, and this was acc written quite a while ago, just so lazy to post this. aneewayz, the future parts will be posted soon!! [please interact! it might encourage me to write this cute ass fic soon!]

word count: 1k? i guess

warnings! swearings.

—

“Mind telling me why were you stalking me, Potter?” Y/N said, cornering Harry in the library. Look, Harry wasn't exactly stalking her. He just wanted to talk to Y/N, but he is so nervous to do it. So, Harry decided to just follow everywhere Y/N goes just in case Harry gets the courage to talk to her.

“I was not stalking you, L/N!” Harry manages to reply back. Y/N raises an eyebrow.

“Then why are you following me then?” Y/N questioned him. Harry tries to think of a reply.

“I was not following you either, I just happened to be in the same place as you, L/N” He lies, folding his arms.

“Potter, I have never ever seen you set foot in the library without the company of Granger.”

Now he has a question he doesn't know how to lie about. He just has to tell the truth then. But at the same time, Harry didn't want to let go of his pride to a Slytherin, either.

You should've thought of that before thinking of the plan, idiot! says a voice in his head. Shut up! he tells the voice.

Harry sighs and just decides to tell her instead. “Can we sit on a bench while we talk?” He asked to which Y/N nodded at him suspiciously. Harry thought she might think whatever he's trying to do is for some stupid prank.

“I want your help,” Harry said as soon as the two sat on the bench.

“How exactly?” Y/N asks.

“W- Well, I want you to read some books for me?”He starts. Harry avoids Y/N's eyes now. She is going to laugh at him after he elaborates his master plan. And he would never ever set foot in Y/N's direction ever again.

“Why would I ever read—” Y/N interrupts.

“Listen to me and you will understand!” Harry says quickly. “First of all, I want you to know that I have a crush on this girl from Ravenclaw. No, I am not going to say her name, sorry. She likes reading books that Hermione says would never read. And I heard you love reading books and would read any kind of book.”

“You see, L/N, I would recommend you to read some books for me and you would tell me whatever the storyline is,” Harry continues. “This is a win-win for both of us. You get to read books. You tell me about them and I get to talk to my crush about it.” Harry concludes.

Harry gathers courage to look at Y/N after elaborating his clever plan. The 'crush' he mentioned is Mikayla Greene. (You can't disagree with Harry on this opinion, Mikayla had a very beautiful laugh and eyes.)

Harry saw Y/N, who seemed to control an urge to laugh but failed at it miserably. Harry sighed. “You can laugh if you want, I guess,”

Y/N started to laugh very loudly that Harry feared Madam Pince might kick her out of the library permanently. Still, Y/N couldn't be able to control it.

Harry is mentally planning to sail to a far country and never come back again. Or hide in his Invisibility Cloak forever. He hates listening to his father's ideas now. He should've asked his other dad, instead.

“I— what— made —” Y/N could not even form a sentence at this point. Harry wanted to hit himself for telling her. He was also worried that Y/N might choke on her own laughter. Out of embarrassment, he covered his face.

Finally, after at least five minutes and a warning from Madam Pince, Y/N stopped laughing.

Why was Harry still here anyway? He still wants a reply after fully knowing what Y/N would say. He is a fool like that. That was when Harry noticed Y/N standing, a smile still plastered on her face. “Thank you, Potter.” She says.“I have never had a laugh like this in years.” Y/N started moving. But Harry wasn't done with her yet.

She still has not given her an answer right?

Harry finally caught on Y/N after literally chasing her. “L/N! Wait!” He shouted earning a glare from a third year girl looking at the two. Y/N stopped and turned around to face Harry.

“You still haven't told me the answer!” Harry manages to say to her despite the fact he was running out of breath.

Y/N cleared her throat, and chuckled again and replied quite firmly with a straight face. “No.”

｡˚ ✧˚ · .

Harry being the idiot he is, did not take the rejection by Y/N for his plan to his heart. He was quite determined that Y/N would somehow accept the deal.

Harry actually knew the reason why Y/N didn't accept his deal. Harry has actually never talked to Y/N despite the fact sharing a couple of classes through the years. She probably thought he was trying to get into a prank or something.

So, what if Y/N actually gets to know about Harry?

Harry tries that too.

Unfortunately, Harry's all gryffindor traits left whenever he approached the h/c slytherin. He would just create a lame excuse and move out of whatever place he was in immediately.

“Potter, has anyone ever told you, you're bad at whatever you are doing right now? because you actually are.” Y/N suddenly said when Harry tried to approach to talk to her when Y/N was reading in the library.

Harry, who was (pretending to) read— looked up to the Y/N sitting in front of him. “What do you mean, L/N?”

Y/N rolled her eyes at Harry. “If you ever want to say something to me, Just say it. Anyone with a brain would know that you have been trying to approach me for the past two weeks.”

She was coming straight to the point. Shit. What would Harry say now? He had this planned didn't he? Then why the heck is he getting nervous?

“I—I actually needed to talk to you about the plan I told you the last time. This time with a better offer,” Harry started. Y/N clearly looked disinterested. “I swear you will like it, L/N!”

“Entertain me then,” Y/N told him in a dull tone.

“Um— So, Hermione told me that there is going to be a new bookstore in Hogsmeade.” If it isn't anymore obvious, Hermione is unaware of Harry's plan, by the way. “Perhaps if you accept to help me with my plan, I would buy books from the stores on our every hogsmeade visit.”

Harry looked at Y/N eyes, which were now sparking in excitement. Y/N cleared her throat and looked convinced, maybe?

“I will maybe accept this foolish plan of yours— let me finish before frightening the whole Hogwarts with your scream, Potter— If you read whatever book it may be with me— No! I am not finished yet! — I will only read the book if it interests me.” Y/N explained. Harry tries not to scream and (in Y/N's words,) frighten the whole Hogwarts with his scream.

“.. and that's it?” Harry asked Y/N, after she went on and went on with her rules.

“I will add more rules if you continue to annoy me, Potter. ” Harry rolled his eyes at that.

Atleast, Harry having Mikayla Greene as his girlfriend isn't in the far future anymore.

#harry potter #harry james potter x reader #harry james potter x y/n #harry james potter x you #harry potter x reader #harry james potter #harry james potter fluff #harry james potter smut #pls interact!!#it helps alott!#harry potter x y/n

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ms-fandomgirl · 3 months

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Finn Ames and The Invisible Girl

Summary: Finn Ames hated drawing attention to himself. In fact, it was one of his cardinal rules of surviving the magical mess that was Easton Magic Academy, at least until Mash showed up. But what happens when he meets a girl who can keep an even lower profile than he can?

Pairing: Finn Ames x Reader

Genre: Fluff! Threat of bullying? But really no warnings

Word Count: 1,404

Cross-posted on Ao3!

Finn Ames hated drawing attention to himself. In fact, it was one of his cardinal rules of surviving the magical mess that was Easton Magic Academy.

Avoid Cavill and his cronies at all cost. Failing to do so could result in maiming, injury, or death.

If something is strange or unusual, leave it be. Failure to do so could also result in maiming, injury, or death.

Receiving no attention is better than receiving full attention, because, you guessed it, receiving full attention could result in maiming, injury, or death.

Sure, the consequences sounded extreme, but he had been here since middle school, and by now, he had seen some things. He had also been extremely good at following these rules as well, at least until Mash showed up. Mash had challenged every single one of these rules which helped Finn survive, yet he had come out as the indisputable victor in all of them. His friend has also dragged him along for the ride as well.

He had to admit though, life was better now that Mash was here. Cavill all but ran when he caught sight of Mash, and Finn knew that no matter the obstacle, Mash could beat it with his fist.

However, right now, as he was sprinting down the halls of Easton, he wished that Mash had a slightly lower proclivity for trouble. It was the first day of the new term, yet things had somehow managed to already go horribly wrong. Mash’s flying stinkweed for potions had managed to escape containment, filling the dorm with flapping leaves and a noxious odor that most likely still clung to his clothes. And now, he was late to Magical Theory, knowing that Professor Mevitable would no doubt call him out when he entered the classroom.

Skidding to a stop at the entrance of the room, he made a futile attempt to straighten his uniform before silently opening the door. Except the door didn’t open silently. Instead, it let out a terribly loud and obnoxious screech as the rusted metal hinges grated on each other, abruptly silencing the room. He cringed as over twenty pairs of eyes turned his direction, freezing him in place.

“Good of you to decide to join us, Ames,” Professor Mevitable scolded.

She motioned to an empty seat near the front of the classroom. “Now, if you’re done causing a commotion, please take a seat.”

Finn’s heart dropped in his chest as snickers filled the air. Making his way down the aisle, it dropped even further as cruel, blue eyes glared back at him, a sneer painting Cavill’s face as he gestured to the empty seat beside him. Finn’s feet slowed as the gravity of his fate sunk in. There was no way his luck was so horrible as to let this happen, especially in the one class he didn’t share with Mash or any of his other friends. Against his wishes, his heart began to beat faster, breaths coming out in shallow gasps as he desperately tried to quell the panic rising in his chest.

“You can sit here, if you’d like,” a soft voice called out from his left.

Finn jumped as he was broken out of his reverie, his cheeks growing warm at being caught so deep within his own head, and by none other than a girl—you—staring up at him with wide eyes.

He looked at Professor Mevitable to see if she would care, but her back was already turned to the class as she scribbled something on the board. Taking one last glance at Cavill, who was still grinning like a cat that had caught a canary, Finn knew he only had one choice in the matter. He slid into the empty seat, giving you a relieved smile.

“Thanks for that,” he sighed. “You have no idea how much you just saved my life right there.”

You giggled, and Finn’s heart began to pick up pace again for an entirely different reason than before.

“Are you new here?” he asked, throwing out the first thought in his mind before he could get even more flustered and embarrass himself further. The plan backfired spectacularly though, as you shook your head.

“I’ve been here since middle school,” you replied. There was still a soft smile on your face, showing you had taken no offense, but Finn felt horrible. He had been there since middle school. And with your kind bail out, you almost certainly knew him and his history with the bully, but he didn’t even recognize your face, much less know your name.

“I-I’m so sorry-” he began, frantically stumbling to try and save the conversation.

You waved off his worries with a flick of your wrist. “It’s okay, I like to keep a low profile. Keeps me away from unnecessary trouble.”

That Finn understood well. “I do too, although I’ve been pretty bad at it lately.”

You laughed again, and Finn knew he definitely wanted to hear that sound again, even if it was at his own expense. He opened his mouth to continue, but your immediate silence and a looming shadow casting across the desk made him think otherwise. However, it was still too late.

“Is there a reason you’re disrupting my class again, Ames?” Professor Mevitable snapped. During their introductions, she had somehow sneaked up behind them, a slight tap of her heeled boot against the ground the only sound in the classroom as she waited for his response.

“No Professor,” he squeaked, tensing in fear. Professor Mevitable glared at him, taking in his state before deeming him adequately terrified. He was sure he looked absolutely pathetic.

“Then I suggest you stay quiet before I decide you also need to stay after class.”

At last, she retreated to the front of the classroom, and Finn only sighed in relief once she began writing on the board once more.

The rest of the class passed in uneventful boredom. On one hand, Finn was relieved. He already had enough excitement for a whole week crammed into a Monday morning, and he didn’t want any more trouble. On the other hand, however, this also meant he didn’t get any more chances to talk to you. The most interaction between the two of you were friendly glances and a shared ink pot when he realized his had run dry. After what felt like a small eternity later, Professor Mevitable finally dismissed the class, and Finn’s time had come.

“Thanks again for letting me sit next to you. I’m sorry I didn’t know you existed until now,” Finn said, and then immediately cringed. That was not how he had wanted that to come out at all.

“It was no problem, really,” you replied, shrugging as you finished packing up your bag. “And hey, better late than never, right?”

Finn nodded in enthusiastic agreement. “I hope I’ll see you around, then? Or at least, I want to see you around again, if that’s okay with you. My friends are great, don’t get me wrong, but every time I’m with them something is bound to happen, and sometimes it’s nice to be a bit more easy going, you know? And you were so easy to be around that I just-”

He cut himself off, inwardly cursing at having rambled for so long in front of you. Any chance of wanting to be around him must have dramatically declined after that, right? But when he risked a glance up at you, he was shocked to see a light blush painting your cheeks and your lips upturned in a small smile.

“I want to see you around again too, Finn,” you said bashfully, before scurrying towards the door.

Finn wanted to follow you, maybe even walk with you to your next class, regardless of whether it was his next class too, but his feet remained firmly planted on the ground. You had just said his name for the first time. His name. It shouldn’t even be a big deal—he heard his name called out by many different people every day—but the way you said his name was different. It had sounded so sweetly melodic coming from your lips that he was frozen in place, only snapping out of his stupor when he realized you had left.

However, as Finn walked to his next class, he was nothing but determined—determined that he would see you, the invisible girl, again.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Probably not my best work, but it was definitely fun! Finn immediately became my favorite character when I started watching Mashle, so I just had to write a little something for him. This was originally supposed to be bulleted headcanons or a small drabble, but I literally have no control. I have some ideas for more, both for Finn and other characters, but we'll see if I end up writing them. I've been in a bit of a writing slump, although this has helped me start to get out of it!

#ms fandomgirl writes #mashle x reader #finn ames x reader #mashle #finn ames

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highlady-sorcha · 1 year

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Nights With a Newborn (Azriel x Reader)

Hey all. This is another one that’s on my Wattpad that I wanted to bring over here for you guys. Thank you so much for all the love on that Cassian fluff piece I posted! I’m so shocked that it has nine likes right now! I never would have imagined that!!

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A human wouldn't be able to hear it, but any fae that wasn't completely and utterly deaf could. Azriel's newborn daughter shrieked like a banshee in her room at the other end of the house. You'd been up and down with her several times already. She'd nursed, she was clean and there was nothing else she needed. At this point, howling in the hours long before dawn, she just didn't want to sleep.

As a new mom, you were exhausted. Bearing the child had nearly killed you, despite your fae healing, and Azriel had been ten times more protective of both you and the new baby because of it. Sometimes, you just needed a few minutes to yourself to sleep and slip away into a world where no one needed anything from you, no one wanted to touch you- nothing.

Azriel shifted on the mattress behind you, the tip of one of his leathery wings brushed the small of your back where your tank top had slid up. It killed him leaving the little girl to cry. Every cry and sob from her was enough to send him running. Tonight, every scream that ripped from her little body twisted his heart in an invisible vice grip, making it hard to breathe. He couldn't help but to think of all the nights as a child where he was left in that cell by his wicked stepmother, with nothing for company but shadows and sadness. The last thing he wanted for his beloved little girl was to know any part of the pain he had.

After a particularly painful gurgling screech from the baby's room Az sat up on the edge of the bed, rubbing any bit of sleep from his eyes with his scarred hands. His wings stretched wide behind him, pulling any stiffness from the delicate joints. You knew what his next step was.

Sighing, you rolled over, reaching for him. The window on his side of the bed was open, allowing the Velaris summer breeze to flow in, shifting the gauze curtains back and forth. The edges of him were cast in pure silver, sculpting him in the image of a gentle and loving god.

"Az, she's ok. I promise. There is nothing she could possibly need, and we're just going to drive ourselves crazy if we keep running over there." You told him as gently as you could.

He sighed and ran his hands through his short black locks, throwing them this way and that.

"I know (y/n), I'm trying to trust you. I'm sorry.. it's just so hard." He whispered, his voice filled with agony.

Your heart clenched at the words. Pushing the heavy, plush quilts back, you reached out for him, swallowing back the pain in the new scar on your belly.

Your ran your hand down his spine, then back up. Trying to give him some comfort from just touch.

"Az, not going to her now, when she needs to learn to calm herself down when there's nothing wrong does not make you a bad father."

"Doesn't it?" He asked desperately, turning around to face you. "She's crying for comfort, and here I'm sitting on my ass. There's almost nothing I can do for her."

"You do plenty. You bathe and change her. Cuddle her, read to her."

"Still," he said sadly. "Anytime she cries, I feel like I've failed. I feel no better than my father, allowing me to be thrown in that cell and never let out."

His hands clenched over the tops of his knees as he turned back to the window.

You shrank back away from him. Was he right? Did you allowing the little one to soothe herself mean that you were in any way like Az's parents?

Seeming to sense your thoughts, Az sighed, and laid back onto the mattress. The muscles in his shoulders and back were still bundled with tenseness.

He reached down to pull the covers over himself as the baby wailed, still. Az rolled onto his side and gently pulled you to him, careful to avoid the tender line on your belly. He wrapped his arms around your middle, and buried his face in the back of your neck, nuzzling into your hair. Your gentle apricot and summer air scent that normally surrounded you now mixed gently with the rosiness of babies and the warm, milky scent of a nursing mother.

He breathed in deeply, and let his breath out slowly.

"I love you so much (y/n), this will pass. We will get through this part together," he murmured against the back of your neck.

You laid your hands over where his arms crossed just below your swollen breasts.

"I love you too, and I know we will Az. She's beautiful, she's perfect. She was meant to be ours, and we're doing the very best we can." You whispered.

The muscles in his arms relaxed then, and your weariness stole over you. Nights without sleep and days spent with Madja, overseeing your recovery while still caring for the baby had robbed you of your usual vitality. It wasn't long at all before despite the squealing still echoing through the house, you slipped under the heavy, velvety influence of sleep.

Az held you close in your dreams. Silently, he summoned his shadows to him. They swirled about him in a gentle, silent storm. In his mind, he whispered to them, giving commands, quietly sending them on a mission.

The storm cloud left him then, and within moments, the baby soothed and settled down. Quiet stole through the house as the shadows slipped back into your room. They raced over to Azriel and swirled around him. They sent an image of a peacefully sleeping baby into his mind. Dressed in a cotton sleeper that allowed her hands and chubby little feet free, the tiny girl had pulled her thumb into her mouth. Her shock of wild black hair was tousled about in a wild bedhead cloud. Her tiny black wings were folded behind her, and as he watched, they expanded to their full span in a little stretch before tucking back against her body.

The image left his mind as he sent the shadows away, back to their normal duties of skulking around the house where no one could see them. His heart was warmer, fuller, knowing that she was alright. Even if he hadn't gone himself to check on her and settle her down- he'd done what a father should, and shown his little girl love when she needed it.

Maybe the shadows would be how he survived this stage of parenting, he thought, as he snuggled closer and drifted to sleep.

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #Azriel #azriel fluff #azriel x reader #fanfiction #sarah j maas

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f1bordeaux · 8 days

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The String That Binds Us. (Prologue) | ln4, cl16

You fell in love with this sport all because of him. It would be selfish not to thank that boy for his help in getting you here today, even if you both ended on rocky terms. However, after finding yourself in the same paddock as your childhood best friend, your mentor, your first true love, and the boy who left you for the bigger picture, you realize that he wants nothing to do with you. So, as fate has it, perhaps you'll end up in the arms of someone else. Or maybe, just maybe, that string that has been tied to the two of you together since birth will pull you back into eachothers lives. Warnings: none Pairings: Lando Norris x Reader, Charles Leclerc x Reader Word Count: 769 Poetry style | Story style A/n: I have returned with yet another series >:) this has been rolling around in my mind and yes its a super simple, done before, run down prompt but I promise to make it worth wild! I feel as though my writing has improved since my last series(which i'm gonna go rewrite) so please enjoy! Ill update as quickly as possible. This is just the prologue so look out for chapter 1 soon, and let me know if you all would be interested in me posting this on Wattpad for easier reading! Much love! Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

prologue; y/n.

There was simply no way, not in this world with all of its coincidences and twists of fate, that things did not happen for a reason. From the minute you’re born until the day you die, there is a reason for everything. An invisible string runs through each and every one of your actions, no matter how little or grand they may be. You were sure of it. There were so many instances you could think of. When you failed that math test and got put back into a different class-the one where you met your first boyfriend who you no longer speak of. When you visited the beach one Summer all the way across the ocean in the United States, and met a girl from your hometown who ended up becoming your life long friend you attended university with. And perhaps the most vital one, when you grew up next door to a boy, only a year older than you, who possessed a love for cars and all things involving them. He would sculpt your life into one of his own, beginning from only the age of three. The two of you would form a shared love, a shared passion, for one sport. However, you found more interest in the mechanical side of things while he preferred to take the wheel. Still, you often wonder how your life would have played out, what you would have done, where you would have gone, who you would have become without him. What would have happened to you if he didn’t live next door? You could never even picture it. Especially now, fresh from university with a degree in automotive engineering hanging on your wall. But the craziest connection of them all? Getting an offer to work in the same sport as your neighbor-no, your childhood best friend. You just couldn’t believe it.

“Y/n you’re joking.” Sophia said on the afternoon the offer popped up in your inbox. She sat on the beanbag chair you used to have in your dorm. You were laying down in bed, lazily scrolling through Twitter before deciding to check your inbox. Now, you were sitting up straight, hand cupping your mouth as you read the email. “Let me see!”

You spun the laptop around, watching her eyes dart across the screen. “It’s not real, there is no way.”

But it was. The email would turn into a phone call, the phone call would turn into a headquarters visit, the visit would turn into a contract. Soon, only a few months after your January graduation, you would be in the Formula 1 paddock, clad in red, tending to the Ferrari livery.

You called Lando only a few weeks before the season started. The two of you hadn’t spoken in a while.

“Hello?”

“Lando, hey.” You scratched the back of your neck. How would he take it? Would he even care at all? Why were you calling with how things ended between the two of you?

There was a second of silence, although it felt like minutes. “Y/n, it’s been a minute. I heard you graduated. Congrats.”

“Oh? Who told you?”

“Mom. You know she's still best friends with yours.”

“Right,” You sighed. He didn’t like your Instagram post that compiled all your grad-photos. Of course he’d only heard it involuntarily. “How have you been?”

“Good.” He responded. “Just preparing for the season, you know?”

“That's actually what I was calling about,” Your heart was pounding. You were so excited to tell him, to let him know that not only did he make it into his dream field, but so did you. “I got a job.”

“Cool. Where at?”

“Ferrari.”

The silence that hung over the line only a little while ago returned. “Like at a shop somewhere in the UK?”

Not exactly the celebration you were hoping for. “No, uh, in F1. I’ll be in the paddock working on either Leclerc’s or Sainz’s car.”

“Oh.” He sniffled. “How’d you manage a job like that straight out of uni?”

“I applied. Didn’t think I would get it but here we are.”

“Well I guess I’ll see you around then.”

And that was it, your big call, your big announcement, all concluded with a ‘see you around’ like it was a conversation to be had in a school yard. You were hurt, your childhood best friend chalking your achievements up to something not worth being impressed about, but you didn’t have time to think about it. You had a job to do and damnit, you were sure you’d be doing it the best.

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futbol16 · 1 year

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Please • María León

This is a lengthier one with my first fic for Mapi.

Request: I’m a sucker for these hurt and hospital fics, can we please get one where Alexia or Mapi does CPR on R

Word count: 2,3k

Going into the game against Atlético Madrid you were excited, mostly because you would get to see some of your other friends on the national team. On the way to the stadium you sit next to your usual bus buddy, Mapi who seems just as eager to get on the pitch. You spend the rather long bus ride talking with the defender and soon some of the younger girls join in on the fun.

With Mapi you never had to worry about putting on a smile because it always came naturally. She effortlessly pulled laugh after laugh from you, something you really loved about her. She knew how to make you relax.

Mapi on the other hand was more focused on the smile on your face in these moments, the way your eyes would twinkle as you laughed at her joke and she’d pride herself for making you happy. If only you knew just how much she wanted to reach out and seal your lips with a kiss sometimes.

The first 60 minutes of the match Barca were bringing their best form, already at 3-1 with Mapi scoring a goal as well. Like always, you were the first person the blonde seeked out after the ball hit the back of the net and the bright look on her face as she jumped into your arms warmed your heart.

That warm heart of yours wasn't only beating out of your chest because of how much you've run.

You don’t think about it for too long though, after all you had a game to win and you needed to have your focus on that. But just two minutes after a missed penalty kick from an Atlético player your team is shown just how quickly things can change for the worst.

When you restart the game you and Salma are instantly sprinting down the length of the field, waiting for the cross from Patri who skillfully out maneuvers the last of the opposition. Salma is the one who takes the shot but unfortunately it bounces off the bottom right corner of the goal post. Fortunately, it bounces back in your direction.

Garcia, the Atlético defender who’s closest to you, quickly snatches the ball from before you, just as it could reach your foot. But the young player forgets to scan the area around her and in her haste of going after the ball she seems to have forgotten you’re in her way.

It’s too late though as she bolts forward only getting a few meters ahead and then she knocks right into you. For some reason the whistle isn’t blown as you both topple onto the ground, the referee is paying more attention to Santos who has stolen the ball.

“Lo siento” Garcia quickly mutters as she gets off you, momentarily extending her hand to help you up. By now Mapi has reached the two of you, you know without having to see her because she’s always the first one there in these situations.

As you stand up your hand grasps Garcia’s hip for a second but the young defender isn’t bothered, understanding you need a second to balance yourself. She didn’t have much to worry about when most of the players were on your side of the field anyway.

Mapi eyes the placement of your hand and she gets closer, instead holding your waist as you straighten up. You have just enough time to glance at her, Mapi is about to open her mouth to ask if you are okay but before she can it’s as if an invisible person pushes you. Your body falls backwards and onto the hard ground in a matter of seconds. Mapi and Garcia, who still hung around, look at your limp body in horror.

The Barca defender drops to her knees next to you in worry, a hand on your shoulder as she looks for any sign of your eyes opening.

“Y/N?” she asks but gets no response, her eyes rake over your form until they finally stop where she thinks the problem might be. Her eyes almost pop out of their sockets as they widen. Your chest was unmoving, like the rest of your body but you were still supposed to breathe when you were unconscious.

You weren’t breathing.

“Y/N? Y/N, no no come on!” she scrambles closer to you, locking her hands together the way she saw in the movies before placing them on your chest. She raises herself above you as she starts the movements in a panic, her eyes watering as you still give her no sign of life.

Garcia recognizes what’s going on and suddenly Mapi is thankful the girl was still standing next to the two of you.

Mapi doesn’t look up to see but she can hear Garcia’s voice ring out as she hurriedly calls for the medics of both teams. or any team, she didn't care as long as you got help. Yet the voice of the girl sounds far from Mapi who has all her attention focused on you as she tries her best to give you CPR.

Splotches of her tears are visible on your sweaty shirt as they fall from her cheeks but her breathing only turns more erratic as you still lay lifeless. She’s mumbling words over and over, pleading for you to wake up. She's about to consider giving you mouth to mouth when the whistle is finally, finally blown and the medics get to you. She would surely curse them out later.

She’s pushed away from you, despite nearly fighting the medical assistant to stay close and she breaks down in tears as both team’s medics surround you.

Life stands still on the pitch as the game is stopped and another medic arrives with the defibrillator.

A loud sob escapes Mapi’s mouth as she watches your body jolt, as much as she could see of you but someone turns her away from the scene.

Sandra holds her close, making sure to keep the blonde’s head tucked safely into her chest as she wraps her up in a tight hug, effectively keeping up the body of the breaking blonde. The players of both teams take the knee, many with tears in their eyes, others full blown crying.

You had gone into cardiac arrest, which means your heart had stopped beating properly and was unable to do its job of pumping blood around the body, that much was clear. But despite knowing the medics were trying their hardest to help you, seeing you receive immediate resuscitation to save your life in the middle of a football field, was something nobody wanted to witness.

When Mapi detaches herself from the goalkeeper she spends the next minute walking up and down, her hand on her head as she tries to keep the tears at bay, ultimately failing at it. The stadium watches in silence as you’re loaded into the ambulance and driven to the closest hospital.

No one knew if you’d ever take another breath or if the next news they’d receive on your health would break the hearts of your friends and family.

The match is brought to an early ending, an agreement from both teams and the referee. A handful of your teammates take their way to the hospital while others stay behind knowing they wouldn’t let them all see you anyway and it wouldn’t be the best idea to shock you with all of their presence.

Upon arriving at the hospital Irene and Mapi almost collapse in relief when they’re informed that you are now stable, coming out of your pain medicine. First though, only one of them is allowed to visit you for safety reasons and Mapi is shocked but pleasantly surprised when her name is listed as emergency contact for you.

As much as she was eager to see you before, she takes slow steps towards your hospital room as she mentally prepares herself for the possibility of seeing the worst. The creaking of the door being opened brings you out of your daydreaming and you look over at the source, a small smile tugging at your lips when you notice the blonde.

That smile of yours fades in an instant when your eyes connect with the bloodshot ones of Mapi who finds herself tearing up again at the sight of you.

“Oh Mapi bebé, come here” your hoarse voice calls out for her and she quickly places herself in the chair next to your bed. You give her a gentle smile as you watch her eyes rake over your body, much like how they had when you collapsed on the pitch, and Mapi breathes in deeply when this time your chest is moving up and down.

You are breathing, you’re alive.

The choked cry that bubbles out of her mouth is not one she can stop as she studies your face. “I thought I’d never see your eyes again” she confesses as more tears fall from her face and you reach out to wipe them with a sorrowful look.

“I’m sorry-” she shakes her head at you, grabbing ahold of your hand that’s cradling her face.

“No, no you have nothing to apologize for, querida. It’s not your fault.” she assures you, even in moments like this it was her trying to make you feel better. You felt okay now, she was the one crying her heart out.

“What happened? What did they say?” she wonders as she holds your arm with both hands. She wanted to know exactly what was going on with you. Your elbow rests on the side of the bed but your palm is facing Mapi who delicately presses a kiss to each of your finger tips before holding your hand closer to herself.

Your heart melts at the gesture and you notice the way Mapi’s eyes stray over to the heart monitor for just a moment. Clearly the machine had picked up on the way your heart sped up at her actions. You try to come up with an excuse but you’re only met with a small smile on the blonde’s lips.

“Blunt trauma, that’s what the doctor said I think. The knock to my chest from Garcia during the game apparently caused me to go into cardiac arrest because my heart went into an abnormal rhythm.” you explain as much as you remembered from what the doctor and nurses had told you and Mapi nods along to your words.

“Life-threatening.” she mutters quietly, huffing out a breath. You nod to that and then reassure her that everything would be okay and they’d only keep you in for a few days to monitor you. She listens, she can hear your voice but her focus stays on your chest.

One breath in, one breath out.

It’s almost as if she’s counting the breaths you take to make sure you really are okay but when she reaches over your voice comes to a halt.

Her fingers hover over your chest and she glances at you for consent. When you give her permission she gently slides her hand under the material of your hospital gown, laying her palm flat on your chest. Her eyes flutter closed as she feels your heart beating against her palm and her head lolls to the side, into your hand that was still cradling her face as she listened to the steady beeping of the monitor as well.

“I’m okay, María” your mellifluous voice and your thumb gently caressing her cheekbone brings her back to reality and she blinks her eyes open only to realize she’s moved closer to you than where she was before.

She’s so close your noses are almost touching but you make no effort to move away as her eyes dilate. Her gaze wanders to your lips as she wets her own with her tongue and the action brings your attention to her mouth too.

“Can I kiss you?” she asks breathily, the butterflies in your stomach dancing around as your heartbeat picks up.

“Please” your tone is just as breathless with her mouth hovering over yours and just a moment later she smashes your lips together. Her hand is still laying on your chest, under your gown but she makes sure not to put pressure on it, instead relishing in your thumb caressing her cheek as she kisses you softly. Your lips fit together like puzzle pieces and you wonder why you’ve never kissed your best friend before, though after this you doubt you’d only be friends.

In that minute as you kiss, Mapi decides she’s addicted to the feel of your lips on hers. The closeness bring you both comfort and the defender once again is assured that you would be okay. She pulls away for a second allowing the both of you to suck in a breath of air before she leans back in.

But the harsh sound of the door opening makes you jump apart and the two of you turn with your eyes blown wide. A nurse stands there, the worried look on her face melting into one of knowingness and it’s only now that you notice the loud and erratic beeping of your heart monitor. She still motions to the machine next to you, a small smirk on her face and Irene pokes her head in too, her smirk much wider than the nurses.

“Careful there, we want your heart resting, remember?” Irene beats the nurse who nods in agreement and she waits for you to send her a thumbs up before leaving the three of you alone.

“I’ll get you guys something to eat and update the others, alright?” Irene informs you both and you thank her for her generosity. She looks back one last time before exiting the room and she gives you a wink. “Have fun, but not too much fun!”

#mapi leon x reader #woso imagine #futbol16 #woso x reader

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chaosromanoff · 1 year

Text

Teasing (Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hi! I know it's been a while since my last post. This one is kinda short but I'll probably write a second part.

Warnings: Smut, mommy kink, explicit language. Sub!bottom!Nat x Top!reader. Minors DNI!

(Gif not mine, credits to owner)

You had known Natasha for almost your entire time in college. Since she arrived, she became pretty popular... but because she was kind of a player.

Of course, you were attracted to her but never showed up that. You believed you were too invisible at her eyes that she would never look at you. Until that one time you both had to do a project together, and things got out of hand and you ended up between her legs. Literally.

That's when you found out how much of a bottom she was. Natasha was submissive, sometimes a little bit bratty, but most of the time, she always acted like the good girl she was. And you had to admit you loved that.

Hearing her cute little whimpers and moans was something you never imagined, and now it was all yours since Natasha haven't slept with someone else.

You weren't dating, but still she wanted nothing to do with someone that wasn't you.

"I want your fingers inside me." She whimpered, making a cute pout while looking at you. "Y/N, please, stop teasing. It feels icky, please make me feel better."

"Don't worry, sweety. I'm gonna make you feel better."

Without warning, you introduced one of your fingers inside her, making Natasha moan loud. You smirked when you felt her body shaking on top of you.

"Look at you, I just started to fuck you and you're already shaking. You're so cute, Natty."

Natasha couldn't answer you, the pleasure she was feeling was overwhelming, yet so delicious. Her mind became blurred, a thick haze of arousal and pleasure invaded her and she couldn't thing of anything that wasn't you fucking her dumb.

"Mommy" She whispered so softly you almost missed the word that fell through her lips, but you heard it perfectly.

"Can you repeat that again, honey?" You asked, and you could feel your own wetness through your panties just because of a damn word. But fuck, you had to admit that Natasha calling you that was so hot to ignore.

Unfortunatelly for you, Natasha's mind was too blurred and fuzzy to follow your orders, so you stopped your movements just for her to whine at the loss of contact and friction she needed. Natasha buckled her hips trying to get some type of contact.

"Please..." Natasha begged. "Please fuck me, I want to be a good girl, your good girl." She continued, your lips curved forming a small smirk knowing she was close to call you how you wanted. "I'll do anything, just please fuck me, mommy."

Your fingers went inside of Natasha's pussy as fast as you could. Her moans were almost screams as you fucked hard and rough. But you both loved it.

"Look at you, baby. The tough Natasha Romanoff just melts like caramel when I touch her." You said teasingly. "Have you always been like this?" Natasha didn't answer, but she shook her head.

"Just for mommy." You smirked at her response and continued fucking her while teasing her nipples through her shirt.

The truth is that, before you, Natasha has always been dominant and most of the time she was a top or a power bottom. But since the first time you touched her, Nat just couldn't help it. She had the need to please you in every way possible, and that's when she stepped into her subspace.

Natasha's body was shaking like crazy, a visible coat of sweat covering her body while her nails digged on the skin of your shoulders. You attached your lips to one of her nipples, making her moan at the feeling.

"I'm close, I'm so- Fuck!" Natasha yelled. "I need to cum, mommy. I can't hold it anymore."

"Hold it a little more, honey. I know you can do it." You demanded and Natasha just whined, but she obliged.

It was quite impressive how much she was holding her release just to please you. You smiled and your mouth went to hers, kissing her lovingly.

"Cum now, Natty. You've been a good girl, baby, you can cum." You said and Natasha's release came. Her moans and whines were something you loved to hear, specially when she said your name through those noises.

When Natasha came off her high, she kissed your lips lovingly and she stared to your eyes.

"I love you, mommy." She confessed and you smiled, kissing her again.

"I love you too, kitten."

Next morning you both were at school. Natasha was with her group of friends and sometimes you could see how her legs were a little bit weak and that made you smirk proudly.

You approached to her and her friends, trying to ignore their confused looks while you called her.

"Hey, Romanoff. I have your homework." You told her.

"Oh, sweet! Just hand it to me before class." She answered and her face approached to your ear. "I cannot even walk properly, they're making fun of me." She whispered and you contained your laugh.

"You begged me for it." You said. "Besides, they don't know who did it."

Natasha nodded and you started to walk away from her, and when you looked back to her, you realized that Wanda, one of Natasha's closest friends was looking at you. When your eyes met hers, she smiled and winked to you.

Does she know about you and Natasha?

#fem reader #natasha romanoff x fem reader #black widow #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfic #marvel one shot #natasha romanoff x reader #natalia alianovna romanova #natasha romanoff fluff

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novamariestark · 8 months

Note

I just read your Tallahassee story and omg it was incredible!!!!! Seriously that man hasn’t gotten enough love and you wrote him so perfectly.

If your taking requests for him using your prompt list I’d love #2. Like what you see? and maybe the reader is waiting for him wearing his hat and nothing else or whatever you have in mind for that prompt!

[A/N] This is my first request and I'm very nervous 😅. Thank you. Glad you liked it. I was actually worried that Tallahassee may be out of character despite me watching Zombieland on repeat. For research, of course, not just to stare at Tallahassee 😂

I agree that the internet is lacking Tallahassee content. I always found myself searching for it so I decided to write some myself.

Now this here kinda ended differently than I originally planned and I hope you enjoy it as much as the other one 😀.

Like What You See?

Summary: After 10 years, reader finally gets to wear the cowboy hat. But nothing else 😏

Warnings: possible cringe cause I'm still new to writing smut 😂, PIV, unprotected sex, 🔞, no use of y/n, slight age gap (Tallahassee is 45, reader is 33), slight dom!reader

Words count: 1915

There it was. Just sitting there. That one accessory that he always wore. But in the 10 years you’ve been with him, not once had you worn it. But it was almost always glued to his head. Except now. Now it was just resting on the bed post. Why hadn’t you worn it? You had thought about it, but you never did. But before you knew it, your hand was reaching for it and lowering it onto your head. As you tucked a few stray hairs under the rim, you couldn't help but feel curious about what your loving cowboy would think of you wearing his hat. Does it look as sexy on you as it did on him? A small smirk rested on your face. Why don't you find out?

You bite your lip as you look at yourself in the mirror. Envisioning exactly what you want to do and what you want to happen. Knowing he’d be back soon, you began to strip yourself of your pj’s, which wasn’t that much to begin with. Just one of Tallahassee’s shirts and your thin piece of underwear. Tallahassee didn’t mind that at all.

Now wearing but your man’s hat, you looked at yourself in the mirror again. Years ago, before Tallahassee, you avoided seeing your naked body. You hated it. But Tallahassee had a way of making you feel gorgeous. At first you thought it was because it was slim pickings nowadays and you were the only girl for miles, he could fuck that wouldn’t try to eat him. But he loved you, and even ten years later, he still finds small ways to show just how much he does.

Underneath his sexy, tough exterior was an even sexier, softer man with a heart larger than life. He was someone who didn’t want to get attached because the pain of someone literally being torn from his life was too much. He didn’t want to feel that again. But boy did you fuck up his plan. He couldn't help himself from being pulled towards you by some invisible force.

The softer side of him worshiped you, your body and just everything you. In his eyes you were perfect, you were beautiful. You were his entire world. His other side was reserved for the times you’d purposely torture him at times when he couldn’t do a damn thing to stop you. Your hand exploring him under the dinner table or under a blanket whilst you were watching a movie with the others. You knew exactly what you were doing, and you knew you would receive your “punishment” later on in the confines of your shared bedroom.

Tonight, you were hoping for the latter.

You smiled to yourself when you heard a low whistle. Over your shoulder in the mirror, you could see your boyfriend, standing there, his eyes wide as he took in your naked appearance. His eyes travelled up and down your body, taking in every curve. The way your hips swayed as you moved, your tight stomach, and your full, round breasts had him mesmerized.

"Like what you see, baby?" you asked with a look of innocence swimming in your eyes. His eyes scanned over your body once more before returning to yours. You could feel his gaze burning into your soul like a lighthouse beacon in the dark night sky. His initial shock when he entered the room had dissolved and been replaced by something else. Something animalistic. He slowly stepped towards you, like a predator stalking its prey. His pupils seemed to grow darker as he stepped closer and closer. You could feel the tension between you two as if it were a living, breathing organism.

Now just inches from your body, he couldn't help but run his fingers through your hair and down your arm. His touch was electric, like a current running through your veins. You couldn't help responding with shivers of excitement and anticipation of his next move. He finally let out a small smile and mumbled 'Uh huh' as he reached forward, tracing his finger along your collarbone before it travelled lower, flowing down between your breasts like a river.

Tallahassee closed his eyes and let out a deep groan of pleasure that echoed throughout the room while he imagined you on top of him, riding him like a wild stallion. He envisioned your dark hair tousled and wild in the air as you dug your hands into his shoulders, laughing as you bent down to place a light kiss on his lips.

His hand quickly snaked around your waist and pulled your naked skin against his fully clothed body. A moan fell from your lips as the roughness of his jeans brushed against your exposed core.

“I leave you alone for five minutes,” he whispered in your ear, his lips attached themselves to your neck, gently grazing your skin with his teeth, before tenderly nipping, and sucking at the sensitive flesh. Your body trembled as his fingers travelled down your back with light caresses.

His hands found their way to your ass, giving your cheeks a squeeze before slapping one of them, making you yelp out in surprise. You giggled as you felt him smirk against your neck before biting it, eliciting another moan out of you. But this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Not yet at least.

You take hold of his hands, unwrapping his arms from you and slowly drawing them away. Your eyes never leaving Tallahassee’s. As you run your hands to the hem of his shirt, you feel a current of electricity pass between you. You pull the shirt up and over his head, discarding it on the floor. The passion in his gaze intensifies, making your heart pound. You slide your fingers around the leather belt of his jeans and unbuckle them. You feel your knees tremble as you take a step back to look at him, giving yourself some distance to gather your composure before continuing. You slowly draw the zipper down and feel the warmth of his skin through the denim. You guide the jeans and boxers to his ankles until he stands in front of you, bare and beautiful. His captivating eyes holding your gaze. You take a deep breath as you rise back up from your knees.

You placed your hands on his chest, pushing him backwards until his legs hit the bed. You smirked at him and gave him a push, making him fall backwards on the bed. You had just turned the tables on him. You licked your lips as you took him in. Sprawled on the bed, watching you intently and waiting for your next move. Did you look this sexy like this? No wonder he couldn’t stop fucking you.

You lifted one leg off the floor and swung it over his hips, bringing the other to rest on the other side of his hips. Your wetness kissed his hardening cock as you brought your mouth down to his, your tongues wrestling for dominance. Usually, a battle Tallahassee won, and you let him. But tonight, you wanted to be in control. Tallahassee’s mind was going a hundred miles an hour. Was his vision earlier about to come true? He surrenders, eager to see what you were going to do. You pull away, sitting up, your nails dragging down his chest. Your hands grab his, placing them on your shoulders before sensually moving them down your body. The roughness of his fingertips making your skin tingle. You rock your hips, needing friction against your clit. Tallahassee’s hands rest on your thighs as he watches your face scrunch up with pleasure. You were practically using him to get yourself off and it was as if you put a spell on him because he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Your hips continue moving against his growing member, coating it in your wetness. When you can no longer take your own teasing, you lift yourself up on your knees just enough to slip your hand between your bodies. Your hand clutched around his red, throbbing member and guided it to your awaiting hole. You placed your hands back onto his chest, your nails digging in as you sank down, swallowing him up inside you. Moans and curses fell from both your lips. You allowed yourself a few moments before you started moving your hips up and back down in the most excruciatingly slow pace that you could take.

Tallahassee groaned, as he realised you were going to tease him like he does to you. You were in complete control, and you loved it. You increased your speed as you rode him. The sight of him writhing beneath you was enough to drive you wild. You rocked back and forth, your tits bouncing in sync with every force you exerted upon him.

“Don’t fucking stop, darlin',” he groaned, his hands tightly gripping your waist as you continued your movements. His breath ground to a halt whenever you rolled your hips.

Tal's gaze was transfixed on your face as it twisted in pure bliss. Waves of pleasure rippled through you making you tremble and gasp, “Tal, I'm gonna...” you gasped loudly, no longer caring who heard you.

“I know, darlin',” he said with a satisfied smirk. His grip was strong on your hips as he felt your walls clenching around him, squeezing his cock, ready to milk him for all he’s worth.

You felt the fire rising within you and with one last cry, you felt as if you exploded. Pleasure ripped through you like a sudden surge of electricity. You could tell by his heavy breathing that Tallahassee was close but not quite there, so you tried to continue but despite your best efforts your legs gave way, and you collapsed on top of him.

Tallahassee takes over and with whatever bit of strength he had left, he wraps his arms around you and pulled you close. You moan out loud at the new angle. He drives his cock into you with more force. The sound of wet skin slapping, and moans fill the night air. His hands run swiftly up your back, until they meet your neck, pressing ever so slightly into your skin. His hands then grip tightly around your shoulders and he roughly pushes your body to meet his halfway, your hips crashing together and soon you can sense another orgasm fast approaching as your body began shaking.

The strength, the speed, the angle, was soon too much to bear. Your second orgasm hit you harder than the first, much stronger than the first. That feeling of you coating him with your cream alone pushed him over the edge and he released inside you, completely filling you up.

You took his hat off and reached over to place it back where it was before you curled up beside him, still wrapped in his safe embrace but feeling empty from the sudden loss of him.

“Fuck. Why have we not done that before?” he asked with a laugh.

“You liked it?” you asked, looking up at him shyly. Your confidence from before now gone and insecurity began to settle in your mind.

“I loved it, darlin’,” he replied, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He bought a finger up to your face, gently moving the stray hairs glued to your forehead, “It looks so much better on you,”

You let out a laugh, “I doubt that,”

#reader insert #female reader #zombieland #tallahassee x reader #tallahassee

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