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thewulf · 5 days

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Hidden Away || Rhysand

Summary: Request -hi if ur reqs are open, could you maybe write a fic with rhys where feyre is not his mate but reader? can r also be tamlins sister so when he locked feyre up in the manor, he also locked r with her? then r is just trying to break the barrier but shes draining her powers in the process so when mor and rhys arrive, r is just on the brink of passing out. thank you so so much! hope u have a good day!!

A/N: Rhys is challenging! Let me know how you like it below :) As always thank you for the requests!

Pairing: Rhysand x Female Reader (Spring Court Reader/Tamlin's Sister)

Word Count: 8.4k +

TW: Talks of abuse, use of magic

As Tamlin's nearly unknown sister your life within the Spring Court is shrouded in secrecy. Tucked away from the public eye, you roam the silent corridors of the manor with your presence barely acknowledged. The manor's ancient stones, cool under your fingertips, are the closest companions in your secluded existence. Each day bleeds into the next marked only by your secret practice of magic in the hidden corners of the lush gardens where the wildflowers refuse to be tamed.

Tamlin had his reasons for keeping you a secret though they were rooted in a misguided sense of protection and control rather than genuine care. From the moment you were born your existence was cloaked in secrecy. Tamlin was always wary of political machinations and potential threats from rival courts. He believed that hiding your presence would keep you safe from those who might seek to leverage you against him. As you grew older this excuse became a method to maintain control by suppressing any threat your emerging powers might pose to his authority.

Whenever important guests visited the Spring Court Tamlin would go to great lengths to conceal your existence. Often you were confined to the secluded parts of the manor. Your movements restricted. Your voice silenced. These actions weren't just physically isolating. They were deeply wounding, reinforcing a sense of imprisonment. Over time you learned that resistance was futile. After a century of struggling against Tamlin’s overpowering magic, a magic that you could never hope to match due to your suppressed knowledge and training, you ceased fighting back. Your spirit, dimmed by isolation and the relentless dampening of your will, began to fade.

Despite all this you’ve learned to cloak your discontent with a veneer of obedience by teaching yourself the subtle arts of magic from fragments of ancient texts and whispers of the wind. Each spell you cast is a silent rebellion against the isolation imposed upon you. It wasn’t much but it certainly was something.

Meanwhile, Rhysand had always felt an inexplicable pull towards the Spring Court. This sensation was particularly strong whenever he visited Tamlin's lands. Each step within its borders intensified a feeling of latent connection. A thread of destiny that seemed to tug at his very soul. For years he couldn't decipher this feeling instead attributing it to political tensions or his natural distrust of Tamlin. However, he knew the sensation was far deeper. He just didn’t know he was connected to the bond that lay dormant between him and you waiting for the right moment to awaken.

This mysterious pull was part of the mating bond that neither of you were aware of yet. Rhysand’s visits to the Spring Court were unknowingly steps towards his destiny, towards you. His soul recognized what his mind could not yet understand. That his mate was hidden within the very walls of the Spring Court suppressed under Tamlin’s rule. It was a bond that defied explanation, woven by the threads of fate, magic, and a longing that transcended Rhysand's conscious understanding.

The monotony of your hidden life breaks when Feyre returns from Under the Mountain, changed. No longer the mortal girl who once crossed into the fae lands she now carries the weight of her new immortal form along with the haunting shadows of her trials. Initially your interactions are tentative. The air between you charged with the unsaid. However, as time weaves its slow dance you find in her a kindred spirit. Another soul chafing against the constraints of Tamlin’s overprotective nature.

Under the cover of night where the moon casts silver slivers through the windowpanes you and Feyre meet quietly. There in the tranquility of darkness, you share fragments of your lives. Your years spent hidden within these walls and her days under the mountain and the heavy price of her return. Each story shared tightens the thread of understanding between you.

In these stolen moments you reveal to Feyre the secret magic you’ve nurtured. Her eyes, reflecting the glow of your spells, flicker with a mix of surprise and a burgeoning sense of solidarity. Encouraged by her interest you find the courage to dream of more than just secretive practices. Together you whisper of freedom and plot beneath the starry sky. Your magic mingling with her newfound strength.

Tamlin had cast a powerful and intricate spell around the manor. Not just as a means of protection from external threats but also as a method of control over those within its walls. This spell was multi-layered, designed to enforce Tamlin's rule and suppress any dissent. For you it was a tangible manifestation of your confinement. An ever-present force that limited your movements and dampened your inherent magical abilities.

The spell was woven into the very foundations of the manor. Invisible yet oppressively palpable. It acted as a barrier not just against physical entry but against magical influence from outside. And crucially it curbed the magical potential of those it enclosed. For someone like you whose powers had been stifled and knowledge kept minimal the spell represented a severe handicap. A chain around the very essence of your being.

On a stormy night, you and Feyre found yourselves poring over ancient texts and forbidden scrolls. These documents were hidden away in the darkest corners of the library and contained arcane knowledge that Tamlin had likely never intended for you to find. They spoke of old magic, powerful and untamed, the kind that could potentially unravel the complex web of spells Tamlin had cast.

The air in the library was heavy with the scent of old parchment and an undercurrent of desperation. Each incantation you attempted, every ritual you performed to try and dismantle Tamlin’s barriers, drained you more profoundly than the last. The magical exertion pulled at the very essence of your being. Proof to the spell's strength and your own nascent powers trying to break free.

Feyre who was transformed and strengthened by her ordeal under the mountain was exactly what you needed beside you. She lent her newfound powers to your cause. Yet, as the night unfolded and the storm outside mirrored the tumult within her concern for you deepened. She saw the physical and magical toll the efforts took on you. The color draining from your face. Your hands trembling with the strain. But still, you wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t give up.

Despite the risk the need to break free from the suffocating constraints of Tamlin’s spell pushed you both forward. It wasn't just about escape. It was about reclaiming your right to autonomy, to magic, to life itself. The friendship that grew between you and Feyre was cemented not just by shared secrets but by this mutual struggle for liberation. A struggle against the literal and figurative walls that Tamlin had erected around you.

As dawn approached with the storm still raging outside you and Feyre reached a critical point in your efforts. A breakthrough seemed tantalizingly within reach. The words on the ancient scrolls beginning to resonate with the energy you both channeled. The walls of the manor groaned under the pressure of your combined powers. A sure sign that Tamlin's spell was finally beginning to falter.

Determined to break the oppressive chains once and for all you both head into the heart of the storm where the barrier's energy pulses strongest. The rain beats down mercilessly mingling with the energy of your combined spell. A desperate, powerful incantation aimed at shattering the bonds. The backlash is swift and fierce. A surge of raw, antagonistic energy from the barrier meets your spell head-on. The impact is like a physical blow, knocking the breath from your lungs and sending sharp tendrils of pain coursing through your veins. The world tilts dangerously with your vision narrowing.

Feyre grips your hands as her own powers flared around you both in a protective embrace. "We can do this, Y/N, just a bit more—"

But her encouragement turns to a scream of horror as your legs give out completely. Your strength finally failing. As you collapse into her arms, your consciousness fading, her fear peaks. "No! Y/N, no, stay with me, please!" The raw panic in her voice is palpable. Her plea filled with a primal terror that she cannot contain. Her scream is not just vocal. It's a surge of emotional energy that travels through the bargain she shares with Rhysand.

At that moment, in the distant Night Court, Rhysand feels a jolt. A sharp, unbidden intrusion into his thoughts. Feyre’s voice was distorted by panic and edged with despair, echoes in his mind. "No! Y/N, no, stay with me, please!" The words hit him with the force of a physical blow. His heart races. His instincts scream. Without a second thought he’s on his feet. The protective and commanding part of him taking over. Mor sensed the urgency. She looks up from her work with alarm spreading across her face.

"We need to go to the Spring Court. We must go now." Rhysand barks out. His voice brooking no argument. He can't explain how he knows only that the terror in Feyre's voice has triggered something primal in him. Something fiercely protective. As he and Mor prepare to leave Rhysand's mind races with possibilities. His worry mounting with each passing second. The bargain was not one of mates but has acted as a lifeline in this critical moment. He is driven by a deep-seated need to respond, to protect, to arrive in time.

In the dim light of the storm-lashed evening back in the confines of the Spring Court, Feyre cradled you against her as her arms forming a protective barrier against the unrelenting winds and rain that battered the walls of the manor. The spells that Tamlin had woven around the estate groaned under the strain, resonating with the fury of the storm.

As you lay there nearly depleted by your attempts to break through Tamlin’s magical barriers you found every breath to be a battle. Feyre leaned close. Her voice barely audible above the howl of the wind. "Help is coming, Y/N. Just hold on. Please, hold on." Her words were infused with a mixture of determination and desperation. A fervent plea cast into the chaos of the night.

Despite her assurances you knew that Feyre had no way of knowing if help would truly come. She wasn't versed in the intricacies of the bargain she made, nor did she understand the silent, unseen forces that might be at play beyond the reach of Tamlin’s spells. Her faith was not based on certainty but on hope. A hope that Rhysand was somehow attuned to the peril you faced and would sense your need and find a way to breach the seemingly impenetrable defenses of the Spring Court.

As the minutes stretched into what felt like hours, the storm outside seemed to mirror the tumult of your emotions. With every gust of wind, with every crack of thunder, you felt the edges of your resolve fray. Yet with Feyre’s presence and her unwavering support it fortified you. Together you were wrapped in the scant warmth her body provided against the chill of the rain. You waited silently hoping.

Feyre continued to whisper into the storm. Words of encouragement and silent prayers mingled with the rain reaching out into the night as if the very force of her will could summon the help you so desperately needed.

As Rhysand and Mor race through the turbulent night sky the urgency of Feyre's distress call pulses within Rhysand. However, the formidable magical barrier erected by Tamlin at the Spring Court looms as a daunting obstacle. As they approach the boundary Rhysand's expression turns contemplative knowing they must penetrate the shield without triggering a violent magical backlash that could harm those inside.

"We can't just break through. It could harm them," Rhysand says. His thoughts on Feyre and the unknown others who might be caught in Tamlin’s protective snare. He suspects there are more secrets hidden within the Spring Court than Feyre alone.

Mor nods before pointing towards a section of the barrier shimmering less steadily than the rest—a weak point. "Here, let me," she offers, her hands glowing with a soft, probing light.

Together, they carefully manipulate the energies. Mor’s magic coaxing the threads of the barrier apart while Rhysand supports and stabilizes the surrounding spells to prevent a sudden collapse. The barrier relents under their skilled hands. Parting just enough to allow them a silent passage.

Once inside they quickly make their way towards the garden guided by the unerring pull of Rhysand's intuition, which grows stronger with each step. The night air is heavy with the scent of rain-soaked earth and the lingering traces of magic.

There, under an ancient oak, they find you lying in Feyre's protective embrace. Your appearance is startling to Rhysand. You were someone he's heard of but never met. A whispered secret of the Spring Court. Feyre’s eyes were wide with fear and relief. She meets their stares as they approach.

Rhysand’s initial intent to aid Feyre shifts as he catches your gaze. Something profound stirs within him as your eyes lock. There’s an unexpected jolt. A powerful surge of protectiveness that grips him. His knees nearly buckle under the sudden intensity of the emotion. His breath catching in his throat. The connection is unexpected, overwhelming, and in that moment, the significance of your presence begins to dawn on him.

"We will get you both out of here," Rhysand finds himself saying, the words carrying a weight he hadn't anticipated. His voice is gentle. Meant to reassure as he reaches out to steady you. His own magic instinctively flaring to envelop you in a warm, healing glow.

The touch confirms what his heart has already started to suspect. The mating bond, still new and unexplored, thrums with a rightness that transcends his understanding. It’s only when he helps lift you, his arms secure around you, that the realization fully settles in… his fate is irrevocably tied to yours.

With Mor and Feyre's assistance they carefully navigate back through the garden. Rhysand carrying you with an ease that belies the turmoil brewing within him. Each step back through the breach in the barrier is a step towards a new unknown, a journey he hadn't planned but now cannot imagine avoiding. As they slip back into the night heading towards the sanctuary of the Night Court Rhysand is quiet. His thoughts a whirl of possibilities and new realities. Beside him Mor watches thoughtfully. She was acutely aware that the High Lord of the Night Court was about to embark on a profoundly personal journey.

The night was deep and still when Rhysand was abruptly torn from his sleep. A sharp, jarring pulse of panic surged through the bond—a connection still new and startling in its intensity. It was you, finally waking from your long, enforced slumber, and the raw fear that washed over him from your end of the bond had him on his feet before he fully registered moving.

His heart raced as he crossed the space between his private chambers and the room where you rested. The halls of his residence silent save for the quiet thud of his bare feet on the cool marble floor. The bond pulsed with each heartbeat guiding him directly to you underscoring the urgency of your distress with every step he took.

As Rhysand approached the door to your room, he paused, taking a deep breath to calm the storm of his emotions. He needed to be a presence of peace for you not one of turmoil. Gently pushing the door open he stepped inside. His eyes quickly adjusting to the low light that bathed the room in gentle silvers and blues.

There you were attempting to sit up, your movements clumsy with weakness and disorientation. The room's luxuriousness that meant to comfort seemed only to add to your confusion. You grasped at the sheets. Your breathing quick and shallow as if the soft fabrics were the only things tethering you to reality.

Rhysand’s heart clenched at the sight. It was one thing to feel your panic through the bond, but quite another to see it etched so clearly across your features. He approached slowly. His presence commanding yet gentle, stopping a respectful distance away to not overwhelm you. His deep-set eyes, usually a striking shade of violet were clouded with concern.

"It’s okay, you’re safe here," Rhysand said. His voice a soft yet firm anchor in the swirling uncertainty you felt. His relief at seeing you awake, even in such a state, was palpable in his tone. Despite the fear there was an underlying gratitude that you were finally conscious. That there was a beginning of recovery however fraught it might be. "You're in Velaris, the heart of the Night Court." He adds hopping to provide you some comfort.

"Velaris?" you repeat. The name unfamiliar and puzzling. You squint at him trying to place the city that sounds more like a myth than reality.

"Yes, Velaris," he continues noting your confusion. "It's a city unlike any in the fae realms, hidden and protected by powerful spells. It's a place of peace and freedom. It is far from the reach of those who would impose their will unjustly." His voice holds a note of pride when he speaks of the city, and his explanation paints a picture of a safe haven. A contrast to the oppressive atmosphere of the Spring Court.

Seeing your slightly eased expression he decided to introduce himself, "I'm Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court." He keeps his tone even giving you space to process the flood of new information. "You were very ill, so we brought you here to recover. Tamlin cannot reach you here. Our city's protections are strong."

His explanation about Tamlin brings a different kind of tightness to your chest—the fear of pursuit and retribution. Feeling and seeing your growing anxiety, Rhysand adds, "Tamlin has no power here. You and Feyre are both safe and you will always have a place in Velaris."

As Rhysand speaks of Velaris and its protections you find yourself momentarily comforted by his description of the city as a safe haven. Yet, another concern quickly surfaces, tugging at your thoughts with earnest sincerity.

"And Feyre?" you ask. Your voice carrying the weight of genuine worry. "Is she okay?" Your expression reveals the depth of your concern not just for your own situation but also for Feyre who had been entangled in your fate by association.

Rhysand’s expression softens further at your question. His smile tinged with a mix of admiration and surprise. He steps closer, his presence comforting rather than overwhelming. "She is doing well," he assures you, leaning down slightly to meet your gaze more directly. "Are you going to ask about everyone but yourself?" His tone is light and teasing yet it carries an undercurrent of deep respect for your altruism.

He finds it endearing how your first thoughts are for others even in your own time of uncertainty and recovery. It’s a trait he notes is incredibly sweet. Almost too kind for someone who grew up under Tamlin's strict and often harsh rule as his sister, no less.

A faint smile flickers across your face at Rhysand’s light teasing before it quickly fades. You glance away looking out over the vista that the Night Court offers feeling a sudden tightness in your chest. "I... it's just easier to worry about others," you murmur. Your voice barely above a whisper. The unfamiliar concern in his eyes makes you unexpectedly uncomfortable. A reminder of how long you've had to rely solely on yourself. You shift away slightly putting a small distance between you and Rhysand as if the space could help you regain some control. "I'm not used to being someone's concern," you add while keeping your gaze averted. "It feels strange I guess. Not having to fend for myself."

Your words hang in the air showing the walls you've built from years under Tamlin's rule. The Spring Court was a place where self-reliance wasn't just a trait but a necessity for survival. The vulnerability of relying on someone else, even someone as seemingly gentle as Rhysand, feels as foreign as the magical landscape of Velaris itself.

Rhysand senses a subtle shift in your emotions through the bond. A twinge of discomfort, a whisper of withdrawal. He understands too well the complexities of adjusting to new dynamics of care and concern. As you glance away he gives you a moment. He respects your need for space before responding himself.

With a slight adjustment in his stance, Rhysand maintains his gentle smile, hoping to ease the tension. "Feyre visits often," he begins, his voice soft, an attempt to gently steer the conversation towards a more comfortable topic. "She's taken quite well to her roles here. She worries about you too, you know," he adds trying to build a connection through your shared concern for Feyre.

His words bring a small comfort, and you nod to him feeling a thread of relief woven through the lingering disquiet. "That's good to hear," you murmur giving yourself a moment to absorb the reassurances about Feyre's well-being.

Rhysand watches you with a thoughtful expression appreciating the selflessness displayed in your first waking moments. "Now, let’s focus a bit on you," he suggests kindly. "You’ve been through a lot and while Velaris is safe… I imagine it's quite a lot to take in."

Rhysand's words wash over you and you pause to absorb them feeling both comforted and overwhelmed by his understanding. "It is a lot," you agree softly, your gaze drifting around the unfamiliar yet beautiful room. "Everything here is so different. So overwhelming but not in a bad way."

You take a deep breath making sure to gather your thoughts before continuing. "I appreciate the safety and the peace here, Rhysand. It's just... I'm still figuring out where I fit into all of this." Your voice is tentative, reflecting your uncertainty about the future.

Rhysand nods. His expression empathetic. "And that's perfectly okay," he reassures you gently. "Take all the time you need to feel comfortable. There’s no pressure for you to decide anything right now."

Feeling a mix of reassurance and nascent courage from his support you decide to push yourself a bit. Attempting to rise from the bed, your movements are unsteady. A reminder of the physical and emotional tolls from your past. You pause, placing a hand on the mattress to steady yourself.

Rhysand notices your struggle immediately. His sharp gaze softening with concern. "You shouldn't be on your feet just yet," he cautions with his voice gentle yet firm.

You steady yourself with a hand against the soft bedding and look up at him. Your eyes were wide and earnest, silently pleading for understanding before you voice your deep-seated longing. "Please, I've... I’ve never left the Spring Court. I wish to see what other courts look like."

The raw honesty in your words strikes Rhysand deeply. He hesitates aware of the physical contact you might need to stand and walk, yet also conscious of the trauma you’ve likely endured under Tamlin's watch. His heart clenches at the thought of your centuries-long confinement. A life that wasn’t meant to be spent caged within a single court's borders.

As you continue to gaze at him with a mix of hope and vulnerability in your eyes Rhysand's resolve softens. "Alright," he murmurs. His expression a mix of encouragement and a hint of sadness for your past suffering. He steps forward offering his arm for support being careful to let you decide the level of contact you're comfortable with.

When you gratefully accept his help you leant slightly into his strength. Rhysand carefully supports you, mindful of your frailty. As he guides you slowly around the room his mind races. He was appalled by the reality that you, centuries old, have been essentially a prisoner for just as long.

"We’ll start with Velaris," Rhysand says as you take tentative steps towards the balcony. "It’s beautiful this time of year. The city is alive with lights and the people are free. You'll see, it’s a world away from what you've known."

Your curiosity brightens your features as each small detail of the room you now notice seeming to intrigue you. Rhysand watches this small transformation with a protective fierceness settling in his chest. He makes a silent vow then, to not only show you the beauty of the Night Court but to gradually introduce you to the freedoms and wonders of each of the courts ensuring you experience everything you've been denied.

With each step you take leaning on Rhysand a surprising sense of security begins to wash over you. There’s an inexplicable comfort in his presence. A safety that seems to emanate from him directly. You can't quite pinpoint why he feels so safe, why every instinct isn’t screaming for you to run from the unknown. But as you lean more heavily against him while navigating through the unfamiliar room it felt right.

Rhysand notices the subtle shift in your demeanor. The slight relaxation in your posture as you trust him more with each tentative step. It’s a trust he doesn’t take lightly as he was acutely aware of the preciousness of it given your past. He guides you gently, ensuring each movement is steady and unhurried.

“Just a little further,” he encourages softly as you approach the grand doors leading to the balcony. As he pushes the doors open a gentle breeze wafts in carrying with it the unique scents of Velaris. The crisp, clean air mingled with distant sea salt and the vibrant aroma of night-blooming flowers.

You step onto the balcony and the view that unfolds before you steals your breath away. The city of Velaris stretches out beneath a sky littered with stars. Its buildings adorned with luminescent glyphs and streets alive with softly glowing lanterns. The Sidra River reflects the lights creating a sparkling path that leads to the heart of the city. Your eyes dart from spot to spot taking in the sight of sprawling bridges. From the artistic sculptures that line the walkways to the fae moving about with an ease and freedom so alien to what you’ve known. Everything is so vibrant, so vividly alive. It's like stepping into a dream.

Rhysand watches you. His expression a mix of pride and gentle amusement. “It’s a lot to take in,” he say as his voice is barely above a whisper not wanting to break the enchantment of the moment.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe out as your voice was filled with wonder. "I never imagined..." Your words trail off as you continue to soak in the sight, the reality of Velaris surpassing any tale or description of the Night Court you had ever heard in the Spring Court.

As you stand there, awestruck, Rhysand stands close. He was ready to offer support if needed but giving you space to experience this revelation on your own terms. There’s a warmth in his gaze. A certain softness when he looks at you, moved by your reaction, understanding just how transformative this moment is for you. “This is only a part of what the world has to offer,” Rhysand finally says, his voice low and encouraging. “And you’re free to explore all of it at your own pace. You’re not confined here, or anywhere anymore.”

As his words wash over you a new fear prickles at the edges of your newfound sense of wonder. "But Tamlin..." you start. His name a dark cloud threatening to overshadow the bright promise of freedom.

Rhysand’s reaction is immediate though. He shakes his head, cutting off your spiraling worry with a firmness that is both surprising and comforting. "Tamlin will never touch another hair on your head, darling. I will ensure it." His voice is resolute as it leaves no room for doubt. The sincerity in his tone and the warmth of his smile are reassuring, conveying a depth of commitment that makes you believe him. He’s telling the truth. You can feel it not just in his words but in the protective energy that seems to radiate from him.

As you stand there on the balcony looking out over the luminous city a confusion mingles with your gratitude. He is the High Lord of the Night Court. A figure of immense power and responsibility. Why would he extend such kindness, such personal assurance, to you? His station alone would suggest a detachment from individual affairs, yet here he is, offering not just his protection but his personal attention.

"Why?" The question escapes you before you can think better of it. Your gaze turning from the cityscape to meet his eyes. "Why would you do this for me? You're the High Lord, and yet..."

Rhysand’s expression softens understanding the root of your bewilderment. "Because everyone deserves freedom and safety," he begins, his gaze steady and earnest. "And because, despite my title I see no one as beneath my care. Especially not someone who has suffered as you have under such tyranny."

His words hint at a broader philosophy. One that governs his rule, a complete difference to the oppressive leadership of Tamlin. "Here in Velaris we protect our own and now that includes you. You’re not just under my protection because of duty but because I believe in a world where everyone has the right to choose their own path, free from fear."

His explanation resonates with you. The sincerity and conviction in his voice weaving a stronger thread of trust between you. The High Lord of the Night Court you realize is not just a ruler but a protector. He was guided by a compassion that perhaps defines his reign more than his power. As you absorb his words the city of Velaris seems to glow a little brighter. Its lights a hope of the promise Rhysand offers. A promise not just of shelter but of a life reclaimed and respected.

As Rhysand's words and the gentle sincerity behind them settle over you something shifts inside you. The fear that had been a constant companion starts to ebb away instead replaced by a sense of security you hadn’t felt in a very long time. Standing beside him, overlooking the luminous city of Velaris, you allow yourself a moment to truly take in his presence. A protector not just in title but in spirit.

The tension that had knotted your shoulders begins to unwind and without fully realizing it a small smile curves your lips. It's slight but it's the first genuine smile you’ve allowed yourself in what feels like centuries. "You know, my brother made you seem terrifying," you confess as the smile growing a bit as you speak. "You're anything but that though."

Rhysand catches the change in your expression and his eyes light up with amusement. In response he flashes you a devastatingly handsome smirk, one that's known to both unsettle and charm. "Did he now?" he says lowly. His voice laced with mock severity before it softens into warmth. "Perhaps I should be offended but coming from Tamlin I'll take it as a compliment."

His response was light and teasing. Spoken to ease the atmosphere, to let you know that it's okay to relax, to laugh, to feel safe. "Tamlin has always had a flair for the dramatic," Rhysand continues. His tone playful now. "But I hope that here in Velaris you’ll see me as I am. And perhaps find that the 'terrifying' High Lord of the Night Court can also be a friend." His words were spoken with a gentle candor and encourage a lighter heart. The warmth in his voice, the open invitation to view him as more than just a lord but as a person, deepens the budding trust and comfort you feel in his presence.

As the night air swirls around you carrying with it the vibrant energies of Velaris you find yourself more receptive to the idea of a new start. Rhysand with his easy charm and sincere protection seems not just a guardian but a companion on this journey of rediscovery. His ability to blend strength with kindness, authority with empathy, makes you believe that maybe, just maybe, you can truly start anew here.

"You make it sound almost easy," you reply. The smile now firmly in place, feeling more natural than it has for ages.

Rhysand's smirk softens into a genuine smile. "I'll do my best to make it feel that way," he assures you. "You’ve had enough of the hard path. It’s time for you to experience the peace you deserve."

In the weeks following your awakening Rhys had been a constant, reassuring presence by your side as you navigated the complexities of the Night Court. The city of Velaris had begun to feel less like a foreign land and more like a potential home. Rhys had carefully gauged when you might be ready to meet more people. He was intentionally keeping even his closest friends, Cassian and Azriel, at a distance to allow you time to adjust. He mentioned plans to introduce them soon ensuring that you felt comfortable with each new step.

During this time your days were filled with activities that gradually stitched you into the fabric of this new life. Rhys guided you through physical training sessions aiming to strengthen both your body and spirit. But it wasn’t all rigorous. You spent serene afternoons with Feyre, dabbling in painting. Despite your initial lack of skill Feyre was a patient teacher, encouraging every brushstroke. In exchange you helped her continue learning to read turning each session into a mutual exchange of growth and laughter.

It was a clear, crisp day in Velaris. The kind of day that made the light seem to dance off every surface, imbuing the world with a vivid sharpness. You were in the middle of a training session with Rhysand in one of the secluded gardens of the Night Court practicing your swordplay. The metal felt cool and heavy in your hands as it slowly became more familiar with each controlled swing and parry.

Rhys was ever the patient instructor. He watched and guided you, his instructions both precise and encouraging. As you moved to execute a particularly complex maneuver, something unexpected happened. Amidst the focus on your movements and the rhythm of the blades, a sudden surge of warmth blossomed deep within your chest radiating outwards like the morning sun cresting the horizon.

It was an intense, engulfing wave that seemed to momentarily still the world around you. The sensation was as if a veil had been lifted, connecting you to Rhysand in an indescribably profound way. It felt as though your very souls had reached out and intertwined creating a bond that pulsed with life and energy.

"What... what was that?" you gasped, lowering your sword as you looked up at Rhysand, your heart pounding not from exertion but from the shock of the unexpected connection. The air between you seemed charged, heavy with a significance that you struggled to comprehend.

Rhysand’s eyes met yours with a spark of recognition and perhaps something akin to relief flashing across his features. His stance softened, and the world seemed to resume its usual pace, but the atmosphere remained changed. It was thick with the newfound awareness between you.

"That," Rhysand said softly. His voice steady yet filled with a warmth that echoed the sensation in your chest, "was the mating bond. It's rare, profound. A connection of souls that can occur between two individuals. It seems it has chosen to manifest between us now."

His words sank in, each one laden with meaning as you tried to process the enormity of what had just occurred. The bond, this deep and intrinsic link, had unveiled itself without warning. It aligned you with Rhysand in a way that went beyond mere physical presence or shared goals. It was as if a part of you had known him, deeply and irrevocably, for much longer than you physically had.

The weight of his confession hung in the air. Heavy with the realization of how deeply the bond affected him from the very beginning. “You mean, we’re..." you started, the reality of his words slowly sinking in.

"Mates," Rhysand confirmed gently. "Yes. And while that might mean many things, know this—you're not bound by it against your will. We can explore what it means together, at your pace." The reassurance in his words allowed you to smile, feeling a genuine connection to the path unfolding before you. The bond was no longer just an abstract force. It was a tangible link between your present recovery and a future filled with possibilities.

Rhysand watched you with something akin to awe as you carefully practiced the sword techniques he had shown you. "We have all the time in the world," he said softly. His eyes never leaving yours. "There's no rush. You’re safe here, with me, with us, in Velaris."

His words seemed to only deepen the stir of emotions within you. Pausing, the sword momentarily forgotten in your hand, you met his gaze, vulnerability shadowing your features. "And... are you okay with that? A bond with me of all people?" Your voice was tinged with disbelief as though the very idea of someone like Rhysand being tied to you was something unfathomable.

The sadness that flickered across Rhysand’s face was swift, a passing cloud on a sunny day, but it was enough to reveal the depth of his feelings. He set aside his own weapon and stepped closer with his expression turning earnest. "I can't think of anything I'd want more," he said quietly while reaching for your hand to provide a tangible reassurance. "These past few weeks of getting to know you, seeing your strength and your kindness. It's not just the bond that makes me feel this way. I... I already care about you, deeply."

His confession hung in the air between you, sincere and heartfelt. The way he looked at you in that moment, his eyes filled with a gentle intensity, made it clear that his words were not merely spoken out of obligation or a sense of duty that the bond might impose. They were rooted in genuine affection and respect for the person you were.

Rhysand gently squeezed your hand, his touch warm and encouraging. "I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have this bond with you," he continued with a soft smile touching his lips as he tried to alleviate the heavy atmosphere. "You're remarkable darling. And yes, I am more than okay with it. I’m grateful."

His reassurance was spoken with such candor and helped ease some of the uncertainty that weighed on you. The bond was once a source of confusion and a reminder of your past constraints but began to feel more like a gift. An unexpected but precious connection to someone who not only promised safety but offered understanding and companionship.

As Rhysand released your hand and stepped back, giving you the space to process his heartfelt words, a sense of warmth unfurled within you. The weight of uncertainties began to lift replaced by a burgeoning sense of connection to this man who was both your protector and, unexpectedly, your confidant.

Mirroring the soft smile that graced Rhysand's lips you found the courage to voice your own budding feelings, simple yet profound. "I like you too, Rhysand," you said. Your voice carrying a tender sincerity that made his smile widen. "More than I thought I would." The admission was shy, sweet. A genuine acknowledgment of the bond growing between you both not just magically but emotionally.

His eyes lit up with a mixture of relief and happiness. The atmosphere around you charged with a gentle, joyful energy. The training session resumed but now there was a lightness to your movements. A reflection of the ease settling in your heart. The conversation with Rhysand, though brief, lingered in your mind like a cherished melody. It was a powerful reminder of the new beginnings and genuine connections now possible in your life with Rhysand and the Night Court. A life that was slowly but surely becoming your own.

As you navigated through each day your confidence grew and the tapestry of your new life in Velaris began to weave itself more vividly. Each encounter, each lesson with Rhysand, and every quiet moment spent under the stars of the Night Court fortified your sense of belonging. These experiences were threads in a vibrant, ever-expanding fabric, each one adding strength and color to your life.

One evening as you stood beside Rhysand on the quiet sanctuary of your favorite balcony overlooking Velaris, you felt a calm certainty settle over you. Below, the city sparkled. A tapestry of light and life that seemed to pulse with the same vibrant energy that now flowed through your veins. Rhysand's gaze was fixed on the horizon, the soft glow of the city lights casting shadows across his strong features when you turned to him ready to voice the thoughts that had been crystallizing in your mind.

"You know," you began. Your voice steady and clear, "I've spent a lot of time thinking about what all of this means. The mating bond, this new life, everything."

Rhysand turned to you with his expression open and attentive. The bond between you hummed softly. It was a growing and comforting presence at the back of your mind.

"I've realized that this bond... it's not just a tie to you. It's a connection to myself. To a life I didn't think was possible," you continued. The words flowing more freely than you expected. "I accept it, Rhysand. Not just accept it… I'm grateful for it. For you."

A slow smile spread across Rhysand's face. That beautiful smile you were slowly coming to cherish. "I can't tell you what it means to hear you say that," he said as his voice was thick with emotion. "You've become a part of this world. A part of my world in a way I always hoped but never dared to expect."

Encouraged by your acceptance and the growth you had shown Rhys felt that the time was right for a significant next step. As the days progressed and you continued to integrate more deeply into the fabric of the Night Court he planned an upcoming evening that would mark a new chapter in your life. The occasion was chosen with care. Not rushed but timed perfectly to coincide with your readiness to meet new faces and embrace the wider community of the Night Court. It was a testament to your journey thus far and a celebration of the future you were building together.

With the day finally set, a gentle breeze whispering promises through the halls, the stars above Velaris began to unveil themselves in the twilight sky. The air was charged with a sense of anticipation. Rhysand who was usually the epitome of composure carried a subtle excitement mixed with nerves as he prepared to introduce you to Cassian, Azriel, and the rest of the Inner Circle. This evening was not just another night. It was a milestone, a true celebration of your integration into his world and the bonds you would soon form with those closest to him.

You had spent the afternoon with Feyre who had helped you select a gown for the evening. The dress was a deep shade of midnight blue and adorned with silver threads that mimicked the starlit sky of Velaris. It perfectly embodied the essence of the Night Court. As you descended the grand staircase the gown flowed around you like a night shadow brought to life.

At the base of the steps Rhysand waited. His usual composure shaken as he caught sight of you. The world seemed to pause, his breath caught in his throat, his heart raced rapidly. There, in the soft glow of the House of Wind you looked not just a part of the Night Court but as if you were its very spirit. The realization that you were his mate, utterly beautiful and resplendent in the regalia of his court, struck him with renewed force.

Rhysand who was ever mindful of the boundaries and comfort of those around him had been particularly cautious about not overwhelming you with the intimate connection that mind-speaking entails. Despite this, the sight of you this evening descending the grand staircase dressed for the event was simply too much for him to resist. The gown you wore reflected the starlit sky of Velaris and accentuated your presence. It made you seem as ethereal as the city itself. Overcome with admiration, he reached out with his mind. "You look breathtaking, darling," his voice echoed in your thoughts for the first time in a while, startling you slightly with its warmth and closeness.

The mental whisper drew a surprised laugh from you. A sound that delighted him to no end. Rhysand's smile broadened. His eyes twinkling with mischief as he observed your reaction. "I see we still need to work on your shields, won't we?" he added playfully. His tone warm and teasing. It was moments like these he cherished deeply. Ones that always kept you on your toes. A trait you’d come to love about him.

Blushing slightly at the intimacy of his mental caress you couldn't help but respond in kind. Your newfound boldness surprising even yourself. "Perhaps I left them down on purpose Rhysand," you flirted back. Your mental voice a soft murmur that only he could hear.

Rhysand’s eyebrows shot up in amused surprise. A rich laugh escaping him that resonated deeply in the space around you. "Is that so? Well, in that case, I might have to keep complimenting you just to see what else you intentionally leave unguarded," he teased back, the affection in his voice unmistakable.

His impulsive act, born from a burst of admiration, turned into a playful exchange that highlighted the growing ease and affection between you. Rhysand quickly added sensing your enjoyment yet still cautious of overstepping, "Apologies if that was too much, but seeing you tonight, I couldn't help myself."

This flirty banter, interwoven with moments of laughter and shared glances, underscored the deepening connection between you both. Even as Rhys continued to respect your boundaries. He also found joy in these light-hearted exchanges, each one building upon the last. You couldn't help but smile, feeling a mix of amusement and warmth from his words. This gentle mental whisper was another sign of how your relationship with Rhysand was deepening, weaving together both profound moments and light-hearted banter.

As you reached the bottom of the stairs Rhysand gently took your hand helping you to navigate the last step. His presence was comforting and his proximity a reminder of how much had changed between you. The grandeur of the staircase faded into the background as you focused solely on him.

You couldn't help the smile that danced across your lips, nor the lightness in your heart from his words. "No need to apologize, Rhys," you responded. Your voice a blend of amusement and reassurance. "I quite liked it. It's... nice, hearing your thoughts sometimes."

"We’ll make quite the team, you and I," Rhysand said, his voice now audible. A soft yet clear tone that carried through the grand space. "With or without your shields up, darling."

The playful banter that had begun in the privacy of your minds seamlessly flowed into the verbal exchange adding layers to your communication and highlighting the ease and comfort developing between you both. As you looked up into his eyes, still sparkling with that same affectionate mischief, you felt that profound connection. The bond was not just magical but deeply personal, spanning the quiet thoughts shared in whispers and the words spoken in the open.

This moment, under the soft lights and the eyes of the Night Court, solidified something essential between you and Rhysand. A partnership built on mutual respect, affection, and a delightful undercurrent of flirtation that promised many more such exchanges in the days to come.

Rhysand led you through the lush, starlit gardens of the Night Court where Cassian, Azriel, and others from the Inner Circle awaited. As you approached the atmosphere was charged with an understated anticipation. Both Cassian and Azriel rose to greet you both their expressions blending curiosity and respect.

Cassian's greeting was robust yet heartfelt. "Rhys didn't prepare us for someone quite so captivating," he remarked with a friendly nod. His tone genuine and devoid of any overstatement. His smile was infectious. He quickly added in a more casual tone, "And I hear you're as quick-witted as you are graceful. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Azriel who Rhys described as more reserved offered a calm nod. His deep-set eyes thoughtful as he assessed you with a discerning gaze. "Welcome to the Night Court," he said. His voice soft yet carrying a warmth that invited trust. During the evening as you engaged in a discussion about the strategic intricacies of the court’s defenses Azriel's respect visibly deepened. Later, he quietly shared with Rhysand, "She has a keen sense for the nuances of strategy. You've chosen well. She’s not just impressive in demeanor but in intellect."

Throughout the evening laughter and substantive conversations filled the garden. Cassian's heartier chuckles complemented your more measured humor. While Azriel engaged you with discussions that tested your insight into the court’s history and its future.

Rhysand watched these exchanges with a sense of deep satisfaction. The way you engaged with his friends. Not just with politeness but with a genuine interest and understanding solidified your place among them. Cassian’s easy camaraderie and Azriel’s quiet approval spoke volumes of their acceptance.

As the night progressed under the expansive, star-filled sky of Velaris your initial sense of being an outsider slowly dissipated. You found yourself woven into the evening’s tapestry as seamlessly as the shadows melded into the night. Each shared story, each moment of laughter, helped stitch you further into the fabric of this vibrant community.

Standing there among new friends you experienced yet another profound shift within. With Rhysand at your side and the bond between you growing stronger by the day you realized you had discovered much more than a haven. You had found a new family, a purpose, and a place where you truly belonged. The night ended not just with a feeling of contentment but with a renewed sense of anticipation for the future.

ACOTAR Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @kenn-spencerswifey @guacam011y @illisea @hiireadstuff @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @lilah-asteria

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http-finnick · 1 year

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𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡

finnick odair x fem!reader

summary: a drabble on you making cookies with your whiny baby and almost as whiny husband

"mwah, mwah, mwah!" you kissed your baby's cheeks as she sits neatly on the counter, she giggles and you stand with a hand on your hip watching as your grin stands prominent

you twirl in your soft homey dress to grab a wooden spoon to distract your little girl with, handing it to her as she looks at it with pride

"you look gorgeous" you turn to see finnick whose leaning on the doorway with a heavy smirk on his face

"glad you could make it, finally" you mumble the last part playfully as he walks over to you and places soft kisses on your lips

"mama!" she whines, jealous of her attention loss and you push finnick away to get back to your child

"if I cry like that will you love me?" he taunts, even doing a dramatic frown just to show you how sad he is

"now finnick, I don't remember having two children on my hands"

"we could if you'd-"

"finnick odair." you warn as he gets the cockiest grin on his lips, you roll your eyes and push your baby back into the back corner of the counter, far enough from the edge.

"here's your spatula and your mixing bowl" you smile while giving her wooden versions of your tools. she grins and you turn over to start the process

"finnick, start mashing the butter for me, please" you ask as he drags himself over to the separate counter next to her. pushing the fork into the warm butter as you hear a soft whine

"da-da" she pouts as she looks over to finnick before showing him her empty sad bowl

"oh I know, poor baby" he puts on a baby voice as he moves the bowl to her and has her help in the mushing with her wooden spoon

before long your placing the cookie dough onto the sheeted pan as finnick bounces with her in the corner

"maybe I should try some, babe." he chimes in and you eye him

"tookie" she says sadly. now you know where she got her bribing and whininess from.

"mm, I'll think about when you guys have salmonella." you grin before placing the pan into the oven, and finnick goes off about how sharing is caring.

soon you are all around the table eating cookies as finnick talks about his day while feeding your little girl small broken-off pieces of the cookie and you can't help but want to reconsider his offer of another addition.

an: i love tooth-aching fluff and a calm life with husband finnick and the children sm<33

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those-late-night-feels · 2 years

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Choke

Summary: Loki almost killed you during the Battle of New York. You struggle when he returns.

Warnings: If the title didn't give it away, choking. Also, Loki being an ass. Smut. 18+

AN: I'm a slut for comments and reposts!

*****

Why wouldn't he just leave? That irritating smirk, as if something was so damn amusing, lingered on Loki's face, his eyes on you like prey. He was that constant itch that you couldn’t scratch away, the ever looming ache in your side that you couldn’t ignore. While the rest of the team discussed their next mission, you sat at the far end of the table incessantly tapping your foot while he reclined in a chair. It was bad enough that after all the destruction he had caused in New York that he decided to show his face again on Earth, in tow with his brother. But the fact that you had to see him every day, breathe the same air, act like everything was water under the bridge, felt almost impossible. Thor had framed Loki's return in the brightest of lights–that he'd changed, that he had been brainwashed and tortured and wasn't the same person anymore. The rest of the team was willing to be cautiously accepting for Thor's sake, and perhaps were starting to buy into the idea that Loki had turned over a new leaf. But the rest of the team hadn't looked into Loki's eyes, seen that possessive evil, when he had lifted you by your throat while smiling, slowly closing your windpipe as you struggled to break free.

That fateful day had been permanently etched in your memory. New York was under attack and you had been focused on surveillance for the team in Stark Tower when he had shown up, strolling proudly with his scepter in hand. Standing abruptly, your heart pounded as you sized up this towering giant and watched his movements; your combat and defense skills were good, but they'd never been put to the test by a god. "Are you going to attempt to appeal to my humanity?"

His demeanor was so high and mighty, like this was all so far beneath him. "And why would I do that? Clearly you have none."

Your legs mimicked his movements, circling each other around the open loft. He paused and cocked his head, an amused smirk pulling on his face. "Don't tell me you intend to fight me, girl. Adorable, but I can assure you I am no match for you."

"We'll see about that."

"And why would I waste my time fighting you? You could be quite useful to me." He aimed the tip of the scepter at your chest, but you were quicker than he’d anticipated and swiped the staff to the side before kicking him in the chest. It didn't do much, he was as solid as a tree, but it was enough to catch him slightly off guard to kick the scepter out of his hand and you both watched as it slid across the room. Adrenaline pumping, you attempted to lurch at the fallen weapon, but he was faster and grabbed your wrist, spinning you around.

"And where do you think you're going?" His tone was sinister and his large hand wrapped around your neck, lifting you off the ground as your legs flailed. Long fingers slowly squeezed on your windpipe and you struggled to pry them off. Tears blurred your vision and started to stream down your face. "Such pathetic floundering bottom feeders you Midgardians are. I should put you out of your misery."

He smiled while watching you struggle in his one hand, prolonging your agony. Squeezing tighter, the world moving out of focus into black. And then a window shattered and the Hulk emerged, ultimately saving you and smashing Loki in the process.

For three weeks, every time you looked in the mirror you were reminded of what he did to you. Your neck turned black and blue, then purple, then green, then brown and yellow. But even as the bruises faded, it was still raw in your mind.

So when Thor had pulled you aside to convince you why his brother deserved another chance, you screamed internally while plastering a smile on your face. He had to have known the trauma Loki had put you through. "Are you okay with this, y/n?"

The pleading in his eyes confirmed that if you said no, it would break his heart. Thor was like a brother to you, and while his brother was the spawn of Satan, you pushed your feelings aside and lied straight to his face. "If you say he's changed, then I believe you."

*****

Loki knew who you were, what he had done to you. The recognition on his face when you first walked into the room and stopped short was evident. His eyes lingered as you leaned against the far wall, keeping a significant distance between you and him. Absentmindedly, you nibbled at your lip and fiddled with the hem of your shirt.

"Lady y/n!" The bellowing voice made you freeze as you watched the large blonde man stride over, dragging his darker haired brother behind him with a perturbed look. He wasn't actually bringing his brother over to you, was he? "I'm glad you are here," he smiled, like this was a family reunion, "Y/n, my brother Loki."

The expression on your face was blank as you tried to hold it together. "We've met," you deadpanned at the same time Loki said, "I don't believe she cares to meet me, Thor."

The oblivious blonde shook his head at your responses. "Nonsense! The last time you met was a misunderstanding. This is a chance to start anew."

Loki watched the vein in your neck as you clenched your jaw together, your nostrils flaring slightly at the thought of your near death being a "misunderstanding." The way your hand shook by your side. He knew you were not ready for this.

"Please excuse my brother. Y/n, it is a pleasure to meet you formally.”

You studied the carpet as he spoke, noticing a burn mark on the rug you'd never seen before. He turned to leave, pulling Thor with him.

“Is that it?” The words were so quiet you barely heard them yourself. But Loki paused and turned toward you. You didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to be near him, didn’t want to be on the same planet as him, but you also didn’t want to be the weak girl that he clearly thought you were, so you pulled your eyes from the floor to look directly at him, your eyes blazing with anger. “Is that all you have to say to me?”

“I… No. I am sorry for any pain that I caused you. It is inexcusable, I know that.”

You willed yourself not to bring your hand to your neck, remembering how the person in front of you toyed with attempting to snuff out your existence without blinking an eye.

It's an act. It's just for show.

Glaring at him, you didn’t want to believe his words. If he was expecting forgiveness, he wouldn’t find it from you. "You're right," you replied. "It is inexcusable."

Pushing past him, you hated the feeling that perhaps he had been sincere.

*****

The constant stress of being cooped up in a tower with him was weighing on you. The need to leave rooms, change directions, hide out in your apartment; was it childish? You didn't know. But every time you saw him, your pulse started racing, your throat turned to sandpaper, and your stomach tensed.

When Natasha announced it was time they all went out for a night, you were all in, needing to literally let your hair down and dance your cares away.

Stark paid an exorbitant amount of money to have access to an exclusive club that he and his friends could access at any time. You showed up in a little black number with a mission to let your cares go.

Dancing for hours had left you parched and you made your way to the bar. He was already there, arms crossed as he watched others with a judgmental look of disapproval. You ordered a rum and coke, telling the bartender to put it on his tab, causing Loki to roll his eyes but nod all the same. He turned his attention to you, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling. "Having fun?"

"I was," you snided, sipping your drink. "I thought you enjoyed this type of thing. Thor said you had your fair share of banquets and masquerades."

"Yes, well, my tastes are…a little more…refined."

You rolled your eyes at his snobbery. He was truly the worst. "When are you planning to leave Earth? I'm sure there are other planets just waiting to be conquered."

Hesitating at your remark, he studied you, no longer shaking from nerves and a more bold tongue, chalking it up to liquid courage. Leaning in closer to you, he could smell a mix of your vanilla body wash, sweat, and alcohol. "Why would I leave when my presence is clearly torturing you?"

The sinister smile on his face made the lump in your throat return and you quickly sipped at your drink again, the alcohol pushing your nerves back down. "Look at you. I don't even have to lay a finger on you and you whither in front of me."

Your cheeks went hot under his intense gaze, feeling small as he hovered over you. Swallowing, you looked up at him, butterflies erupting inside you.

"Fuck you, Loki," you breathed. Storming off, you could only imagine that arrogant smirk on his face as he watched you walk away. Heart pounding, blood boiling, you grabbed the first man you saw on the dance floor, gyrating with him under the strobe lights, trying to remove the image of him hovering over you from memory. When you looked up toward the bar, Loki was still watching you, a smile pulling on his lips like he knew exactly what he was doing.

*****

Combat training with various team members was grueling but necessary work, dripping sweat and lungs burning. You and Natasha went at each other, you landing a blow to her ribs, her landing a kick which resulted in an armbar. A few rounds and the two of you had called it a night, her leaving to shower while you stretched weary muscles.

"Your combat skills have seemed to improve since the last time I saw them." You heard him before you saw him. Narrowing your eyes and putting on a braver face than you felt inside, you groaned, crossing your arms.

"You're like an annoying gnat. What do you want?"

"I'm curious, when the team goes on missions, who is the one that babysits you? Do they take turns or is it the same person?"

He was trying to goad you, trying to get a rise out of you, you knew that. Well two could play this game. "How exactly did you convince Thor that you changed? All that talk of torture, did you make that up? Is there even a, what was his name? Thanos?"

His face dropped for the quickest of moments and a part of you regretted your words. But when he recovered, the look on his face made you take a step back.

"Tell me, how many nights have you been kept up at night thinking about my hand around your throat."

Your hand reacted before your brain could and the crack of your palm against his cheek was heard before it was felt. He smiled when he turned his face back to you, taking another step in your direction. Fist clenched, your arm swung up toward him, but he grabbed it and held it in place. Another step, your knee came up to his stomach, and he grabbed that too. You felt the wall behind you, a shallow breath released as you tried to hold yourself together, his chest centimeters from yours. When you looked up at those blue-green eyes though, it wasn't the same look as last time. There was no darkness, no evil, no possession. His smile was covering something else. Slowly, your eyes locked on his, you guided his other hand to your neck. His breath hitched as he watched you wrap his slender digits around your throat.

"Wha–" but you silenced his question with your lips. What started as a desperate need to shut him up turned to lips hovering near each other, tongues dancing together, breaths being shared. He pulled away to look at you, a question playing on his face, his silver tongue clearly tied. Your eyes dropped down, embarrassment starting to flood your mind, and his hand flicked your face back up to his and kissed you again, hand gliding from your neck to the back of your head, gripping onto your hair. Your fist was dropped as he glided his palm down your side, wrapping around your ass, bringing you wanting core to him. A whimper left your lips and he pressed into you with need.

Brains turned off, hands scrambled to pull at clothes and feel every inch of one another. His fingers slipped inside your pants, running his long digits along your silky crevices and you shook as the tip of his finger circled your clit, smiling into your mouth. "Seems like you've thought of this multiple times, pet."

"Shut up,” you demanded, greedily scrambling to free his throbbing erection from its enclosure, pulling at zippers and buttons, a relieved sigh escaping from him when it was freed.

He was quick with his movements and flipped you around, hands pressed against the wall, pants yanked down with a swift jerk, fingertips drawing lines up your thigh, up your hip, up your spine, causing shivers. His hand came to rest on your neck, tilting your head back to him. His warm throbbing cock slid between your ass cheeks and through your thighs, playing with your anxious opening.

"Beg me," he whispered into your ear. A strained cry left your throat as he rubbed his hot erection up your slit.

“Please,” you breathed, then moaned loudly as he stretched your tight opening, flexing his fingers under your jaw.

“Is this what you want, pet?” You wondered that yourself as he smoothly pulled and pressed into you, but as he hit your cervix while locked against him, you knew this was exactly what you wanted all along. A secret desire you wouldn’t even admit to yourself. The noises you made were sloppy, no longer able to make sense. He pulled your head toward him again, gripping down a little harder while pounding into you. “I asked you a question girl.”

“Y…ye…yes…” you wailed. You were close, but if it were to coming or passing out, you didn’t know. His cock hit in places you didn’t know were inside of you, and as he reached down to circle your clit, your body shook violently. The world went black for a moment and you collapsed into him, but vaguely you could hear his words. “I got you. I got you. Good girl.”

Pressing yourself into him on the floor, your lungs burned. He rubbed your neck, your arms, your back, while you came back to full recognition. Looking up at him, he pressed his lips together while you bit at yours. “Do not tell anyone about this.”

He cocked his head, raising an eyebrow. “I doubt they would believe me even if I did, pet,” and kissed your hand. "Do you still want me to leave Midgard?"

Lowering your face into his shoulder, you hid your reddened cheeks. Your lips pressed together, unable to answer, but knowing you didn't want him to go.

Buy me a coffee: https://ko-fi.com/thoselatenightfeels

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eternalslover · 9 months

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Bullet train incorrect quotes:

Tangerine: Rules were meant to be broken

Ladybug: Tan, nothing was meant to be broken

Tangerine: Piniatas

Y/n: Glow sticks

Lemon: Karate boards

The Son: Spaghetti when you have a small pot

Tangerine: Rules

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thewritersaddictions · 29 days

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If The Walls Could Talk Chapter 1: We Are All Adults Here

Pairing: DBF!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Pov: Reader

Summary: When your parents leave for their annual summer vacation, they ask your long-time neighbor to come by and check on you.

Warnings: Smut, Age Gap (20/50), a little bit of corrosion, sexual tension, Bj's, PinV, Unprotected sex, Smut with no plot, shower/tub smut.

A/n- @ Firefly-graphics for dividers.

WC- 3.2

If The Walls Could Talk Series // The Last Of Us Master List

With another semester of college under my belt, it’s time to come home for the summer. The group chat with my parents tells me that even years later, they still leave the house for a few weeks during the summer for a vacation. They’re going on a cruise this year and will be gone for nearly a month.

I’ve lived next to a man and his daughter for years—a sweet kid a little younger than me. Hours were spent playing with her when we were both young, and when I started high school, I began babysitting her, and nothing changed. I was always in his house, and the fact that we were constantly bumping into each other had my crush flying through the sky.

I had a crush that suddenly disappeared when I was up and moved away to college, but every summer, my crush came back with a vengeance—a spiteful vengeance. The older I got, the more I looked at Sarah’s dad in a new and different light.

Now I’m driving back home to an empty house and a house right next door with my much older crush. Let’s also add that Joel is also my dad’s best friend. He has been his best friend since Joel moved in with his baby daughter almost twenty years ago. The lights on the house are off, and my garage door opens with one button press.

The first day back from college was always just about laundry and eating a typical meal for the first time since I had been home for the brief spring break before exams. I can see that Joel is home; his truck is in the driveway, and the kitchen light is on. I text my parents while I wait for my food to reheat in the microwave.

Made it home, eating leftovers.

Aww I’m glad you are home sweetie. Don’t forget that if you need anything Joel is right across the street.

And his daughter is at camp this summer so he’ll be there anytime you need him.

You can’t just volunteer Joel like that.

I’ll make sure to remember that Mom.

I swipe out of the chat a little faster than normal. My attention drifts over to the lit-up kitchen window and I think about whatever Joel might be doing… since Sarah is away at summer camp. The beeping of the microwave pulls my attention away, and the room smells of leftovers. That night I watched a random movie marathon in a bed I’ve had since middle school, and fell asleep with a half eaten plate of food on my nightstand.

A week later theres a knock on the fence to my backyard. My eyes are closed behind my sunglasses. It’s only when the hot rays of sun fade and turn cold do I open my eyes and shift my eyes down the brim of my nose. It’s Joel. Standing there in all his glory. A hawaiian shirt covers his tan skin, and shorts give very little to the imagination.

I had a crush that suddenly disappeared when I was up and moved away to college, but every summer, my crush came back with a spiteful vengeance. The older I got, the more I looked at Sarah’s dad in a new and different light.

Now I’m driving home to an empty house and a house right next door with my much older crush. Let’s also add that Joel is also my dad’s best friend. He has been his best friend since Joel moved in with his baby daughter almost twenty years ago. The lights on the house are off, and my garage door opens with one button press.

I made it home, eating leftovers.

Aww, I’m glad you’re home, sweetie. Don’t forget that Joel is right across the street if you need anything.

His daughter is at camp this summer, so he’ll be there anytime you need him.

You can’t just volunteer Joel like that.

I’ll make sure to remember that, Mom.

I swipe out of the chat a little faster than normal. My attention drifts over to the lit-up kitchen window, and I think about whatever Joel might be doing… since Sarah is away at summer camp. The beeping of the microwave pulls my attention away, and the room smells of leftovers. That night, I watched a random movie marathon in a bed I’ve had since middle school and fell asleep with a half-eaten plate of food on my nightstand.

A week later, a knock was on the fence in my backyard. My eyes are closed behind my sunglasses. It’s only when the hot rays of the sun fade and turn cold that I open my eyes and shift my eyes down the brim of my nose. It’s Joel. Standing there in all his glory. A Hawaiian shirt covers his tan skin, and his shorts give little to the imagination.

“Your dad told me you were home.” He says plainly. I nod and keep my eyes on him. “You haven’t left the house in over a week, so I came to check on you,” Joel says as he shifts from in front to the side of me, sitting on another pool chair. “I haven’t needed to. You know mom always makes way too much food during the summer.” This is the second summer I’ve come back home, and my parents have been out on a cruise or flying to some destination they picked out the minute they got back the previous summer. “I know she’s always trying to pawn it off to the other neighbors,” Joel says, looking at you and then the water.

There’s a long pause between us; the tension grows, and before it can well into something, I cut Joel right off at the knees. “Well, I’m sure you’ve got other things to do today.” I say, then add, “instead of checking up on me.” There’s a shift in Joel’s face, but he quickly hides it behind a bright smile. “I do have some yard work I’ve gotta get done.” He says, getting up from the pool chair and pushing with the palms of his hands.

I watch him walk away. Open and close the fence gate. I stare for a long while. Wondering where the hell these random, hot flashes of feeling came from. The bottom of my stomach burns with a passion that I don’t even feel when I go out with guys from my college. I lick my lips, bring my sunglasses back up the ridge of my nose, and close my eyes. By the time I get back inside, the summer day’s heat has disappeared, and my skin is tanned.

Joel seems to know every time I’m outside. He knocks on the gate and lets himself in. This time I’m swimming in the pool. The heat has suffocated me in a way I’m not used to, “Do you go anywhere else?” Joel asks. I lift my head from the pool surface and look at him. This time, he’s wearing just a pair of shorts. Swim trunks, “It’s not like I have many places to go.” I say plainly before dropping my head onto the pool water’s surface. I feel the ripples of the water as Joel moves in.

He starts at the steps and makes his way over to me. Long swimming strides, and in a matter of seconds, he’s by my side. Once again, I was standing in the sunlight. I peep my eyes open again. “Do I have something on my face?” I ask him. His brown eyes bore holes into me in a way that made me feel like the only other person on earth but also uncomfortable. “I just hadn’t realized how much you’d grown up.” That is all Joel says before he too, lays on his back. I’m stuck wondering what that means. I had always seen Joel for precisely what he was.

“What does that mean?” I finally ask after a little silence. Joel seems to be forming his words, “It just means that are have become a beautiful woman in the passing years.” My courage starts to grow. “Does that mean you’ve been watching me?” I say, looking over at him. I can see him visibly swallow has if I’ve caught him in a tongue twister. “I… You…” He rolls his lips together, I move in the water. I want to see his face. “I’m what Joel?” My bathsuit hugs me tightly due to the water. “You’re just…” “I’m just what Joel?” I ask brushing my hand up from his belly to his chest. His skin lights up with goosebumps in the hot weather.

“I’m far to old for you.” He says as if he’s trying to stop himself from making a horrible choice. As if saying he’s older then me is going to stop the way my nails are dragging down the center of his body. Inching closer to the tie of his swim trunks.

The way my name falls from his lips, like he’s barely holding back his wants and needs. “Y/n, please I’m just as old as your father.” I roll my eyes. “Can you not bring him up when all I wanna do is make you feel good.” I mutter softly. Joel lets go of my hands and groans when I grab at his erection from the swim trunks. It’s just a wet piece of fabric between my hand and his cock.

“Fuck,” Joel mutters out in a low groan. But before the moment goes any further I move my hand and float towards the pool stairs. Joel is up and moving towards me before I even manager to get the towel around my body. “What in the hell was that?” He tries not to shout. “That’s called payback for the past fifteen years of my life, now if you don’t mind I’m gonna go take a bath,” I say before slipping into my flip-flops and walking into the cool air of the house. I leave the sliding glass door open.

An open invitation to follow me.

An open invitation to which he follows like a lost puppy dog following its owner. I don’t hear Joel get out of the water immediately as if he’s waiting for my father (his best friend) to come rounding the corner; all I know is that by the time I’ve settled into the hot water of the bathtub with bubbles on the rim of the tub. Joel is marching up the stairs and not even knocking on the bathroom door.

He just lets himself in. He is standing with a towel wrapped around his waist and water pooling around his feet. “You’re making a mess, ya know,” I say, not even bothering to look up at him. I had set up most of what I would use before my dip in the pool, my eyes gazing over the words in my romance novel.

“You’re a fuckin’ tease, you know that.” He says with a grunt. I say anything, flipping the page of my book over. The book goes from my hand to the sink, forcing me to look up at him. “You are a wrong choice waiting to happen,” Joel says with my chin in his hand. Holding me to look up at him, “But I’m not inclined to make the right choices right now.” He says before finally leaning down to press his lips into mine.

The kiss sweeps me off my feet metaphorically. His lips are rough and dry from the summer heat and sun, but the way he uses his mouth is heaven-sent. Passing over my lips with his tongue, his hand still holds my chin securely, giving Joel all the power he needs in this situation. His other drifts down your chest, and into the water. The bubbles surround his hand as his fingers graze over the tops of my breasts. Gentle has they grope and tease my nipple. The kiss is breathtaking, leaving me gasping for air when Joel finally does pull away.

When he pulls away there’s no giving away the rather large tent that has made it’s way through the soaked swim trunks and is now protruding through the pool towel. He follows my gaze, and looks down, “You want something?” He asks looking down at me, I nod. “Then undress me sweetheart.” The nickname makes my heart skip a beat, and my hands are reaching out for the towel, ripping it off and through it to the floor. His swim trunks go next and in one easy slip down his toned legs he’s free and completely naked in front of me. For being half my age older the man is built, muscles and tan lines that show the amount of work he’s put into his life already.

“You gonna keep staring at it with your mouth open? Or are you gonna use that pretty little mouth of yours up to some good use?” He says standing there in all his glory. I slip over the edge of the tub, half my body still sits in the water. My knees hitting the edge of the inner tub, nipples taught at the coolness of the surrounding air as I grab a hold of Joel cock. I had dreams about this, dreams of sucking him off, dreams of holding him in my hands, dreams of the way he’d taste, of the way he’d sound. Nothing is better then the real thing though. The weight of his cock on my hand is different then I’ve ever felt. A strong hand combs through my wet pool hair. “Come on darlin’ don’t keep me waiting.” He says gently.

I nod because there aren’t words to describe the feelings that are currently wrapping their way around my lungs. I lean forward and press my lips to the head of his cock. I look up at Joel through my lashes before sucking just the head of his cock into my mouth. A slight groan falls from his lips, and it eggs me on further. I take each inch of him with a slow pace, giving myself time to let him fill my throat. I’m not even must more librality because before i know it, th hand that was gently combing through my hair is pushing me further down his cock. My nose buried in his nicely trimed pubic hair. I gag around the tight feeling of his cock in the back of my throat, holding his thighs tightly in both my hands.

Joel hands holds my hair tightly. The once gentle hand is curled around my hair and using a force I’ve only ever seen him use when he’s lifting things from his truck. Using my throat in order to get exactly what he desires. His grunts and groans are the only things I hear, music to my ears. It’s the little tiny whimper of my name that has me knowing that Joel is close. His cock twitches in the back of my throat and my eyes water at the fullness he has me feeling.

—

The water sloshes in the tub, as Joel moves us both into the tub. His back pressed against the cold porcelain. The law tub large enough to hold the both us. He doesn’t have me facing him at first. My back pressed against his chest, with his already stiff cock pressed between my wet thighs. Wet due to water, and due to the fucking my throat as just recieved. Joel plams my breasts. Teasing the stiff nipples between his fore fingers and thumbs. Rolling then and pinching at the same, it has me rockingand sqeuzzing his cock between the plusness of my thighs.

His lips connect to the side of my neck pressing soft and rough kisses into the skin. Leaving some patches with hickies. “Such a pretty women sitting on my lap.” He mutters against my skin, I let my head fall back over his shoulder and his lips find my chin. “Letting me do whatever i want to her, in her parents house.” His reminder that we are in fact in my parents house has me wetter then I’d like him to know, but my thighs sadly betray me. “Oh she’s a kinky little one isn’t she?” He says, “Spread your legs sweetheart.” He commands and follow with ease, watching as water flows over the edge a little. Suds hitting the floor, with my legs wide open one hands drops my breast and falls down the center of my stoamch and then to the center of my pussy. “Oh she loves the idea of my fuckin’ her right here in this bathtub, she loves the idea of my fuckin’ her in her parents house, what they don’t know don’t hurt ‘em.” He says as he slips two fingers in. Moans bounce of the tiled walls of the bathroom, his one finger are larger then my two fingers put together, so I can only image the way he’ll push my walls open to make room for his cock. He drops his other hands decidind it’s better to play with my pussy then my breast. With one hand pumping in and out of my pussy the other one starts with slow circles around my clit.

“You’re so wet Y/n, hmm how long have you been thinkin’ about me fuckin’ you?” He asks, his breath steady in comparison to mine, I can barely keep up, i roll my lips together before opening my mouth but all that falls out is moans of satisfation. “Answer me darlin’ or I won’t let you cum.” His words get my attention, and for a second I have to think. “Since I was in highschool.” I manage to get out. “Hmm such a dirty fuckin’ slut thinking about her dads best friend fuckin’ her.” his words have me squeezing his fingers in my pussy. “It’s okay baby, I’ve been thinkin’ about doing this since two summers ago.” His confession sends me over the edge. Into a white hot ecstasy. Joels fingers slide out with ease, and his other rest gives my sensitive clit a rest. Kissing my shoudler and back gentle as I come down from my high.

When I regain a portion of my brain I don’t give him much time to ask me many questions. I grab his cock and postion myself. Letting the head of his cock notch at my entrance. “Oh fuck sweetheart” Joel groans out his grip on my hips grows tight. “Wait.” He says, but I don’t listen, I’m absolutely consumed by the feeling of his cock around my pussy. I feel full and content with his cock complelty in my pussy. “Damn it Y/n, I said wait.” He shouts, “What? You don’t wanna be deep inside me anymore?” I tease. I can hear Joel gridding his molars together. “No I just wanted to make ure that you were on birth control you brat.” oh I bite my lip and nod my head. “Words darlin’ words.” “Yes, so you can cum as deep as you want Joel.” Theres an undeinable smile on his face, as he sets an unforgiving pace.

Water pools around the clawfoot tub as Joel pushes me forward. My hands gripping the tub as the sound of skin slapping bounces off the walls around us. The blinds opne but the summer streets empty. “Joel anybody would see us!” I moan as he wraps a large around the back of my neck forcing my to look towards the window. “Oh darlin’ I’m kinda hoping gets to see the sort of show you put on. Your ass so high up in the air, tits boucing and making mess around my cock. I bet I can make you cum again just like this.” His pace somehow gets faster and harder.

“Yeah, I can feel you squeezin’ my cock.” Joel mutters, “Wait I wanna…” My words die in my thaort as his other hand comes down between my legs and plays with my clit. A few circles and a few pinches “Wiat Joel please…” “Hmm what do you want now princess?” He asks through his own grunts of passion. “I wanna cum with you, please Joel cum inside me with me??!” I beg him, “Alright… alright princess, you can cum with me but you better be ready when I am.” He says, “I will be I will be Joel just pelase make me cum daddy.” Something in Joel must break, or maybe it was already broken because the pace he sets now is body breaking. My knuckles are white, and my mouth is just hanging open. “Come on princess squeeze my cock like a good little girl, and then I’ll give it you. Pump you full with my seed.” His words push me over the edge and with that my second orgasm rolls over my shoudlers. Joel pumps a few more times deep inside before he slips out and falls gracefully to the tubs floor.

We sit in silence for a moment. Joels words are the first thing that hit the sex smelling air. “This by the way sweertheart. Is NOT a one time deal.” he says grabbing my hips and pulling back down into his hold. We sit until the water goes cold, and or skin is wrinkly. “I’ll clean up after we get you somethin’ to eat missy.” He says wrapping the towels around my tired frame. I only nod unwilling to disturbe the peace of the moment.

Completed on: 04/10/24

Posted on: 04/13/24

Joel Miller-

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sazayaki · 7 months

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Absolute bangers I conjured up during an RP session in which I was writing Jhin for a friend:

I find it fascinating to depict Jhin in emotional scenarios he'd likely never be canonically written into, honestly. As shown here, I imagine his brand of manufactured empathy is quite convincing despite his undeniable callousness!

#jhin the virtuoso #jhin league of legends #khada jhin #jhin #jhin lol #headcanon #rp #fanfic #oneshot

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carlplsrailme · 2 years

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𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬

summary: after a stressful day, the only thing you wanted to do was collapse on your boyfriend and maybe start riding his thigh

carl grimes x fem!reader

cw: thigh riding, softdom!carl, comfort. everyone is fucking aged up.

word count: 800

request: Could you write thigh riding with softdom carl?

today was exhausting.

a run where you almost got nipped on by a walker and what do you have to show for it? a couple of bruises and some scraps of food.

you were so disappointed. in yourself and in the run itself, Carl comforted you and put on a hot shower, he rubbed the soap bar up and now your beaten body while kissing up your neck. you melted in his arms, his dripping brunette hair landed on your shoulders as he came down to kiss your cheek

"you know, how after the walker-" he choked on his words, the thought of your getting bit, it breaks him, just a simple conversation but those words stun him.

"...yeah" you whisper, looking back at the memory as the water rains down on both of you, he wraps his arms around you, pulling your back flush against his chest, and he leans to kiss up your neck again, up to your ear as he whispers...

"well, for the record, you looked fucking hot killing it" you snort at his rendition of the memory, a few laughs escaping your chest as Carl grins in satisfaction of hearing your giggle again

"Why are you always so horny?" You ask whilst laughter slips in your tone, he tilted his head and gave you a knowing look but you still stared up at him

"with you constantly around me? with a girlfriend this hot? how could I not be?" he asks as you playfully hit his chest

"Oh come on, you know it's the other way around!" "Oh, so you're constantly horny?"

"I- Carl!" you scold, tho he notices how you don't say no

"Alright, alright, let's just wash up and head to bed, yeah?" he asks and you nod, swaying back and forth with him holding you as the water pours on you both

"can we shush go to bed?" you slur, Carl has been all over the place as you wait on the bathroom counter, in his shirt -that is way too big for you, falling down to your thighs- you don't even know what he is doing

"I-" he turns back to explain how he has things to do before seeing your sleepy state, adorable

"Alright, we can go to bed, baby" he softens as he grabs your by your thighs, picking you up as he walks over to the bed

he sat down with you on his lap, he leans back as he fails his arm around -searching for who knows what as you just lay your head on his shoulder, scooting up to be comfy as you slightly shake from the jolt of pleasure you received

To be completely honest, yes, you have been 'constantly horny' all-day -that might even be the reason why you slipped up in the first place, if your head wasn't so fuzzy from thinking about carls cock you might've not had that scare today

and this, fuck, it's perfect. your panties rubbing up on his sweats is all you need right now, he probably won't even notice if you just roll your hips again-

"baby?"

fuck, ok, maybe not

"mhm?" you answer simply, hopefully, he'd think you were just getting comfy and not humping his thigh

he sighed, tho not in annoyance, how can his sigh sound cocky? you'll never know.

his hands laned on your waist, dipping one down to your hips and you dug your face deeper in his shoulder, too embarrassed to even face him

"baby? it's okay" he whispered, you can feel the smirk he has on as he manually rolls your hips on his thigh, you let out a staggered moan in his shirt some of it from shock but most of it from the unbelievable pleasure

"feel good? I know you had a rough day today baby, go on, let it all out" he whispered, placing his hand back on your hips as he let you take control

you moved back and forth, choked moans leaving your lips with every thrust, tears brimming at your eyes as you felt the embarrassment of riding your boyfriends thigh, but it just felt so good you couldn't stop, not for that anyway

you felt Carl cock grow hard from your movements, applying the perfect friction for him to start groaning in your damp hair,

"fuck, your so pent up, huh? just so needy, baby, you're taking anything you can get" he groaned as you sped up, feeling all this pressure on your clit, rubbing it beautifully as you humped him faster and faster

"I- I think I might cum" you admitted shamefully, he kissed your forehead as he thrust up to match your grinds

"good, I want you to fucking cum on my thigh, baby" he hissed, and you wailed as you came down your panties and soaked his sweats

you huffed for a minute, coming down from the intense pleasure as your pussy twitched and calmed down

you looked up to Carl as he only petted your hair and lean in to kiss you

"I think we need to shower again"

an: ahh omg I had so much fun writing this! thank you for the request anon! -and for the others, they will be out soon!! ugh, thigh riding always gets me, completely melted while writing this <3 anyway, mwah bye love you guys!

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hollowdeath · 4 months

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

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

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

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

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

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

word count: 12.6k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the anger was stronger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

worse than that, harry was vengeful.

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

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

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

but nobody was as upset as you were.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but it was already far too late.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and all he wanted was you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"can we talk?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"yes ma'am," harry responds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"open," you tell harry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"and you love it."

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osakigitsune · 8 months

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Seeing the one-shots and how some of them are shorter... maybe I can accomplish that... But I start something and then more ideas always begin flowing and I want to make it into something more... I'm not sure... I haven't been getting what I've been wanting out of NaruHina roleplay... the people I find I enjoy writing with, but my obsession has always been on a whole other level so.

#naruhina #naruto x hinata #uzumaki naruto #naruto #naruto rp #naruto uzumaki #hinata uzumaki #hinata hyuga #hyuga hinata #hinata hyuuga #hinata #fanfic #smut #oneshots

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http-finnick · 1 year

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𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝

finnick odair x onesided love!fem!reader

summary: as you sit in the cold hospital room of finnick odair in 13, you hear him talk about his one true love, and everything clicks.

request: Hi! I’ve been in my feels lately and I was wondering if you could do an x reader where Finnick and reader are best friends and he talks about how he misses Annie in district 13, and y/n is forced to listen as a best friend should even tho she doesn’t want to? It’s up to you whether he notices that she’s uncomfortable and asks about it and she tells him, or he doesn’t notice at all. I love your work!! ✨✨

you bring your knees up on the fitting white chair that matches equally with the white-out room.

your hospital gown flowing to your calves as you listen to Finnick rant about his laughable hatred for one particular nurse in the district.

you giggle that he's already hating people when you've barely settled in 13 -even though refusing to get him juice isn't a reason to hate someone, he's pumped up on pain meds that make him slightly woozy

"I wish they had seafood here." okay maybe not sightly woozy...finnicks high out of his mind.

"Finnick we are so far from any ocean" you giggle as he playfully pouts up at the ceiling before sighing

"Annie would've gotten me seafood"

you froze at her name. you hated freezing, but you seemed to stop everything when she was mentioned. it seems like in the best moments you two have together it circles back to her. like it would've been even better if you were only her.

"I really miss her. Like, horribly. I don't think I've ever missed anyone so much before"

you sniff uncomfortably as you push back pieces of hair that fell out of your tie.

you're jealous. you can't deny that. you're a horrible friend and you're that girl. that girl who's the best friend and you should always worry about. because that girl is terribly in love with him and would either take him down with her or just take herself out.

you never wanted to be that girl. and you aren't gonna drift away from him or tell him about your feelings to make him decide. because he's already decided. and you accepted that.

but you accepting that doesn't mean moments like these are less uncomfortable, they just leave a dull pain in you that you have to swallow down.

"That whole time I was in the arena, I couldn't stop thinking about her. no matter what was happening I was wondering what she was doing, where she was, if she was safe...happy" you saw him rub his lips together as he was getting emotional,

shifting slightly as you bit a little chunk of your lip to gnaw on it, You need to be the best, best friend you could right now. always.

"you love her so much Finnick" you say, cursing yourself as you can hear the strained way you're talking from the way you feel your throat closing with tears

he sniffs and wipes tears that were still swirling in his eyes before staring back blankly at the ceiling

"yeah, I do"

you do the same motion as him and thank goodness for him being so high he didn't notice you getting emotional yourself

when you moved back to your room that night you felt so alone, so dull and stale as you realize you were just never meant to be. no matter how great a friend you were, he loved her.

sitting on your stale bed you confessed to yourself that if Finnick were to run in here and say he's in love with you, you'd kiss him immediately. and that isn't okay. you think back to the paths you had, share your feelings or drift from his life. you thought you could sit in the middle, content and happy with keeping to yourself. but that never works.

you hate yourself for ruining this friendship. so you decided you weren't gonna feel bad for yourself anymore, you were gonna let finnick live. let him love, finally.

that night, you got up from the middle and chose the path that lead you to your own. and you never walked back.

an: ahhh it feels like forever since I've written angst!!! I really like this one because there's not way around it expect realizing and moving on and that hurrrrrtts. thank you so much for requesting! ilysm <333

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair angst #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair #finnick x y/n #finnick x you #finnick x reader #finnick x annie #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair oneshot #thg finnick #thg rp #thg x reader #thg headcanons #thg fanfiction #the hunger games imagine #the hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games rp #the hunger games

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those-late-night-feels · 1 year

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Right Place, Right Time

Part 1

Summary: When Loki saves your daughter, the bond you start to form takes you both by surprise.

Warnings: Slow burn, near death experience.

A/N: Readers, your feedback is always appreciated. As a mother, I wanted to play around with how a relationship could develop in that scenario. More to come.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

The first time your heart skipped a beat because of him, there was no warning. In fact, your heart had been pounding incessantly and the jolt you felt was like a heart attack. Distracted, running along the sidewalk chasing after a toddler who thought running away from mommy was a new game, even though you'd sat her down multiple times to explain that it was not a fun game for mommy. One minute you watched as she ran out of the playground, the next you had face planted, tripping over the broken sidewalk as she made her way closer and closer to the busy intersection.

"Someone help!" you yelled, pointing to your little girl. Startled, two men on the corner turned toward your cry, and then to the toddler next to them who had just stepped off the curb. It felt like your soul left your body as you watched the bus barrel down the road in slow motion, one man running in front of the child to stop the bus, the other clutching the little one just in time and bringing her over to you.

Sobbing and shaking, your eyes were only on her, your pride and joy, wiping your cheeks from tears you didn't know escaped.

"Sara, you gave mommy such a scare," you shakily said in between sniffs, arms out, taking your little girl from the man holding her as the other man approached. Your mind was clouded and when you turned to the blonde man to thank them both incessantly, you did a double take. “You’re…you’re…”

“Thor, and this is my brother Loki," he said with a smile, placing his hand on the other man's shoulder. "And we’re happy to have been of assistance. You certainly have your hands full.”

Adjusting the squirmy toddler in your arms, you directed your eyes up to the taller man. He prepared himself for a scream, for an angry shove, for any sort of reaction at all. But you took him by surprise, giving a nervous huff and grabbing his hand.

“It's nice to meet you both. And thank you.” Your eyebrows crinkled in earnestness as he nodded. It felt incredibly silly thinking how gorgeous he was after what you just went through, with other-worldly eyes and deep cheekbones, and his brother interrupted your thoughts. “We do need to get back, will you be ok?” You turned to Thor, shaking your head at your own silliness. Of course, they probably had incredibly important things to attend to.

“Oh yes, we'll be fine. Thank you, again.” Loki slipped his hand from yours, but not before squeezing it in return and giving you the briefest of an understanding look.

They disappeared, and you thought that would be the last time you ever saw the avenger and his alluring brother.

The second time he made your heart flutter, it had been months later and you hadn't thought about him for weeks. The fantasy of the mysterious god was exciting for a time, but the reality of a full-time job and single motherhood made you forget those frivolous thoughts. Weaving through the congested New York crowds, you'd almost passed by him without realizing it, but something in the back of your mind told you to look back.

"Loki?" He turned mid-stride, not placing you immediately, but when the recognition hit, it was evident on his face. "You're back."

He smiled warmly as you adjusted your shoulder bag. "I, uh, didn't get a chance to thank you properly for saving my daughter. Could I, um, buy you a coffee?"

He was quiet while studying your face. Did you have an ulterior motive? He didn't think so. And just when you thought he might not have heard you, he replied, "Yes, I'd like that."

The little cafe around the corner had French bistro chairs and softly played Pink Martini on repeat. Sitting at a table in the corner by the window, a latte for you and a black tea for him, you talked incessantly about yourself, your daughter, your job, while he sat there quietly listening, sipping his tea. A little embarrassed that you had just rambled on and on like a nervous teenager, you drew circles on the rim of your coffee cup. "You don't talk much, do you?"

He chuckled to himself, your words amusing him. "I like listening to you."

Your face turned pink as you looked at your hands, the remnants of your latte sitting at the bottom. "Are you staying here for a while? On earth?"

"For a while, yes."

Nodding, you quietly said, "Good."

He tilted his head upon hearing you. "You might be the only Midgardian to think that."

You shrugged your shoulders in response, not knowing what to say. You weren't dumb, you knew exactly who he was, what he had done, had watched in horror the aftermath of the destruction on TV. The glares, the whispers of others, they weren't subtle. But you also knew he was trying to make amends for his mistakes.

"It's getting late. I need to pick up Sara from daycare."

Adjusting your bag, the two of you walked toward the door. He held it open for you to pass by, taking in his intoxicatingly warm scent. Pausing on the busy sidewalk, you turned toward him. "Um, I know this is kind of silly, but Sara's birthday is next weekend and we're celebrating at that park. If…if you aren't busy…"

His smile was kind and genuine. Were you really asking Loki, god of mischief, to your child's birthday party? But he said thank you, and as you said goodbye you felt his fingertips brush against yours.

The third time your heart fluttered, you hadn't actually expected him to show up to your little girl's birthday party, but a small part of you had hoped, just maybe. Sara was full of smiles, playing on the jungle gym with neighbor kids and snacking on strawberries and pretzel sticks. The squeals of delight when she unwrapped a present and pulled out a mermaid Barbie warmed your heart, exactly what she had wanted. It was thrilling as a mother to hear those happy sounds, see her smiling face on her day and it was a good distraction from wondering if a certain someone would show up. But as you sang "Happy Birthday" and helped her blow out the few candles, the thought gnawing at the back of your mind was that he wasn't going to show. And while you felt the disappointment in the pit of your stomach, it was the nagging thought you had completely embarrassed yourself that truly bothered you. Why in the world had you invited Loki, an ancient god of the universe, the brother of Thor, to your daughter's birthday party? You groaned at the idiocy of it, imagining how he must have been so amused by you, a simple mortal in awe of the Asgardian god. Sighing, you cut slices of birthday cake, handing them out to guests. Holding a forkful of the frosted vanilla cake, you paused mid-bite as clouds rolled in and turned dark. The weather app hadn't mentioned a possible storm. First, there was rumbling thunder, and then the clouds opened up and hundreds of aliens flew out from the opening in the sky.

"Sara…" you called out in warning, picking her up from the picnic table and walking backwards from the activity in front of you. Lasers began to emit from them and your heart thumped in your chest. We need to get out of here. We need to hide.

You turned to run towards the entrance of the park, Sara covering her ears and starting to cry, when you heard your name. Looking up, you saw Loki dressed in a full green and black leather ensemble, running up to you. "What…what's going on?"

"Come with me," he said and grabbed your hand. Clutching on to Sara, the two of you weaved through panicked crowds. Don't let go of his hand!

He dodged falling objects, swerved through oncoming traffic, all while keeping you close. Your legs burned, your feet started to rub raw, but you kept with his pace.

“Only a little farther, darling,” he yelled over his shoulder. “You’re doing great.”

You couldn’t get a word in to reply, your lungs burned and your throat felt like sandpaper, but soon the massive Avengers Tower came into view among the smoke and debris. He took you through the lobby, into a back room, and you tried to catch your breath again while adjusting Sara in your arms. He spoke to a few security guards and then turned to you, never dropping your hand. “Alright, you’ll be safe here. They will take you to a room below and get you settled.”

You looked at him quizzically. “You’re not coming?”

He leaned over to look you in the eye, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Not until this invasion is stopped. I'll come check on you both soon."

The feeling of being left alone somewhere unknown was unsettling, but there was a reason Loki took you here, and that was reassuring. The security guards took you down an elevator to what you could only assume was a safety bunker. Sturdy walls, entertainment units, a full kitchen, and multiple bedrooms, but no windows. You chose a room, laying Sara down on the large mattress as she started to yawn once safely inside.

“Well bug, it's just you and me again.” You rubbed her head and sang soothing songs as she laid down to nap, heart palpitating with every loud blast outside, and soon laid down next to her, the adrenaline of the afternoon wearing off.

When you opened your eyes again, it wasn't from another resounding blast, but to gentle strokes of your hair. Eyelids fluttered as you took in your surroundings, then all at once as he came into focus in front of you, his touch delicate. Opening your mouth, he set a finger to his lips and motioned to your little girl, curled in a ball. He draped a blanket over her, then pulled you up to leave the room and allow her to nap in peace.

"You're hurt," you said when he quietly shut the door and reached up to brush your thumb under a cut on his cheek. "Do you need to have that looked at?"

A smile played on his lips as you looked at the wounds on his face. "I'll heal. Are you hungry?"

You nodded as he reached up to clasp your hand and his fingers latched on yours, pulling you into the kitchen. "Let's see what we can find."

Twenty minutes later, the two of you were eating from a big bowl of spaghetti. He told you about what had happened, how he learned about the coming invasion from Thor, and had instantly thought of you and Sara at that park.

"You've saved Sara twice now. It's like you're her guardian angel."

He smiled to himself, twirling the spaghetti with his fork. "You might be the only creature in the universe to compare me to an angelic being, y/n."

He focused more on the bowl of pasta than you. "I don't really care what people think," you said quietly, resting your hand on his.

He lifted his eyes to yours as you drew circles on his hand with your thumb. Your breath slowed and his jaw relaxed, but you broke contact first, stretching with a sigh. "I should probably get going, wake Sara up and get out of your guy's hair."

His mouth went slack jawed as he hastily got up from the chair. "I wouldn't advise that. You must stay." You paused as he rushed his words. "At least until tomorrow," he said quickly. "They could come back…and I'd be beside myself if I didn't know Sara was safe."

"Loki…thank you, but–" He cut you short, coming up to you and resting a hand on your arm.

"Please," he said softly, looking from one eye to the other. "Just so I know that you…and she…are safe."

His eyes were pleading and you swallowed the lump in your throat, pulse beating faster from his touch.

"I…" you stammered, words lost on you while drowning in his eyes.

"Mama!" You pulled your eyes away, his touch receding as you picked up the little girl running to your arms.

"Hey baby girl," you kissed her cheek and she snuggled into your embrace. "You have a good nap?"

She gave an exaggerated nod, looking around the bunker. "We go home now?"

You could almost swear you heard Loki hold his breath. Looking from her to him, you shook your head. "We're going to stay here tonight, like when we do sleepovers at Grandma's house. Does that sound like fun?"

Again, she gave an exaggerated nod, making curls in your hair with her fingers. "Where's mermaid girl?"

Your lips pressed into a line, remembering the Barbie that was left on the picnic table, along with all of her other birthday presents. "We'll have to get her later, sweet pea."

Sara stuck out her bottom lip. "Did I hear it was someone's birthday today?"

Sara turned her head quickly to Loki, an open mouth smile on her face.

"Watch," he whispered, and placed his hand out in front of her. When he opened his palm, tiny fireworks played among his fingertips. Sara giggled joyfully and clapped her hands. "Now close your eyes–you, too."

He looked at you expectantly, and you gave him a what-are-you-up-to look, but did as you were told. A few seconds passed, and then he said, "Alright, open them."

You heard the squeal of delight before you could open your eyes. "Mermaid girl!"

Before her was the blue and pink plastic mermaid, and she hugged it tightly, wiggling to crawl out of your arms and play with the doll.

"How did you even…" you whispered, but he only gave a smug little grin and watched the little girl explore the room with her new friend. He kept you company that afternoon, him a little more open as he told you stories of growing up on Asgard, the tricks he'd play on Thor, and of course, stories of his mother. Lounging on the couch with your legs tucked under you, you imagined him as the little prince, and how he grew into the man sitting in front of you, and the fluttering in your heart moved down lower to your core.

This new feeling was startling. Yes, you had found him wildly attractive, but it was like staring at a piece of priceless art. It was meant to be displayed in a museum to be marveled by all, not to hang in your living room next to a pile of laundry. You were lost in your own head as he talked, and then there was silence when he cocked his head. "Did I lose you?"

Eyes blinked rapidly as you returned to the present. "Why us?"

"Hmmm?"

"During the invasion today, why did you come back for us? You barely know me…"

He leaned forward and reached for your hand. "Y/n, you don't give yourself enough credit. You've shown me more kindness in the little amount of time I've known you than most of these Midgardians have since I've been here. If anyone deserves saving, it's you."

Your stomach tumbled, your eyes turned down, watching as his palm found yours, fingers slowly weaving together. He saw you and it was all so overwhelming. Feelings like these hadn't been present since Sara's father, and those had long since flown away. No one had truly occupied your mind but Sara for years… Sara…

You looked around the large room to find her playing under a table with her doll and a few items she had gathered while exploring the room. "It's getting late. I should give her a bath and put her to bed."

"Would you like me to go?"

Nibbling your lip, you shook your head, and as you turned to find your daughter, Loki smiled.

Sara was always an easy one to put to bed, like she was just as eager to go to sleep when you said it was time. She laid in bed after playing in the tub and listened as you made up a story about a young boy who lived in a far away land and was different from everyone else, giggling when you told about the tricks he would play on others, but really all he wanted was to be loved.

"I like it here," she whispered and you gave her little kisses on her nose and forehead and eyes, her breathing soon growing heavy with time.

Fifteen minutes later, you quietly shut her door, finding Loki lounging with a book in his hand. The massive hardcover book was propped open on his chest and you tilted your head to read the title.

"The whole world is divided for me into two parts: one is she, and there is all happiness, hope, light; the other is where she is not, and there is dejection and darkness…"

He paused, considered your words. "You are full of surprises. You know your Tolstoy."

You smiled, maybe a little proud that you could impress him. "I took some classes on Russian literature in college."

It turned your conversation into a new direction, on books and favorite authors. He pulled a book out of thin air, holding it out to you. A worn green cover and brilliant gold font, you took it, slowly cracking open the cover in your lap. "I think you'll enjoy this one."

You drew your finger over the beautiful script, the delicate pages.

The warmth of his hand met your cheek, drawing your eyes up to his. "Y/n," he paused, his body leaning in, your heart beating so hard you were sure he could hear it. "Can I kiss you?"

Lips parted, the answer on the tip of your tongue, and then the clobbering of footsteps down the hall, the bellowing of Loki's name, his hand sliding away from your face, the moment gone.

"Loki, there's been another invasion," his brother announced when he found the two of you. "We're needed in London."

Loki sighed, looking from his brother to you. "Please stay here tonight. I'll be back as soon as I can."

He left with a kiss to your hand and more questions swirling in your mind.

Part 2

Buy me a coffee

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