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snowballseal · 2 months ago

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How they react to you having a lot of tattoos

LaDS X Reader

Anon Request: I was curious if you would be willing to write the boys reacting to a partner with a lot of tattoos? I feel like MC is pretty covered up and as someone with full sleeves and a large back piece, it’s always interesting to see how people react to seeing them.

Note: Y’all killing me with these fun requests 🥺 I love this. I only have a few minimalist tattoos, but I want MORE. Thank you for the lovely request, anon. The scenarios were fun to think of.

Word Count: who’s to say 🤷about 1000 each

---

Rafayel

The first time Rafayel sees your tattoos is when you go on a date to the beach. You’re not even thinking about it as you change in the bathroom. When you decided to become a hunter, you knew you would have to cover up your tattoos. The policy, while being outdated in your mind, isn’t all that bothersome since you prefer to wear long sleeves anyways.

So it never occurred to you that Rafayel had never seen the full expanse of the ink on your body.

Which is why, when you step out and his eyes go impossibly wide as he looks at you, mouth dropping open, you’re first and foremost confused.

“What?”

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you feel an inkling of insecurity curl in your chest as you look down at your two-piece. It’s nothing immodest, just a blue bikini that you thought was cute and also met your standards for support. It’s a little frilly, but a part of you thought he’d love that.

“Do you not like it? I don’t uh, I don’t have anything else to wear…” Your voice comes out uncharacteristically meek.

That seems to snap Rafayel out of his daze. The artist shakes his head, the tips of his ears going positively red, as he still can’t rip his eyes from the lines decorating your skin. He reaches out, tracing the gentle petals of a flower on your waist.

“How come you’ve never shown me these, cutie?” He asks, voice touched with awe.

Oh. Heat creeps up your neck. So that’s what he was on about. You glance down at your body. You suppose it is a little jarring. It’s not like you’re covered head to toe, but you’re definitely a well covered canvas. Both of your arms have partial sleeves that curl up around your shoulders and continue along your collarbone. A large collection of flowers adorns the right side of your waist, traveling down your hip and turning into a pattern of vines down your leg. You have a few other ones, some silly, some heavy with meaning.

“Sometimes I forget I have them,” you admit a bit bashfully. Rafayel gives a low hum and your breath catches as his fingers continue to trace the lines on your waist, his touch warm and ticklish. “I’ve had some of them since before I started training.”

“I have to say, I’m a bit jealous that another artist has touched your body,” he murmurs, voice dropping to something low. His hand slips around your waist, drawing you closer so he can trace his lips over the intricate ink on your collar bone, ocean eyes glinting up at you with something possessive yet overflowing with adoration. “But even I have to admit this is beautiful work. Befitting my queen.”

Your cheeks go warm. As red at the tips of his ears. There’s something so reverent about his touch and it makes your heart flutter wildly, but you’re all too keenly aware that you’re still in public.

Not that it stops you from poking the fish.

“Would it make you feel better to know my newest one is for you?” You ask, reaching to touch his cheek with a teasing smile.

Rafayel’s face lights up. He draws back immediately, looking over your tattoos like an eager child until he spots the fresher ink on your left leg. You stifle a giggle as he drops to his knees, fingers curling around your ankle to pull your leg off the ground so he can get a better look.

“Rafayel!” You bark out a laugh, balance stolen away. It forces you to lean on him just so you don’t fall over. “Geez, I could have just sat down, you know!”

“This is for me?” Rafayel, oblivious to your complaints, grazes his fingertips tenderly along your skin.

Shaking your head, you give his hair a playful fuss, “Yes, you impatient fish. It’s not done yet, but it’s about us.”

It’s the beginnings of an ocean scene. A beach circles right above your ankle, depicting the silhouettes of two younger kids, their hands clasped in a promise. As the ink continues up your leg, it transforms into what looks like a night sky, but instead it’s water, swirling lines of blue and purple, full of schooling fish, one in particular standing out, bright red among the cool tones. A familiar symbol. And on the back of your calf swims a graceful looking figure, reaching for the light, edges blurred between fish and man and water.

A lump forms in Rafayel’s throat as he touches the red fish, a familiar warmths spreading across his chest as the same symbol glows faintly. Seeing it on you fills him with an emotion he can’t quite explain.

“You do realize what this means, right?” Those ocean eyes flicker up to you. They glint like dark pearls, iridescent and beautiful, yet carry a depth of emotion that makes your breath catch.

“I do,” you answer unwaveringly.

Rafayel’s lips pull into a small smile. He never expected someone to do something like this for him. Though, of course you would. And it’s beautiful.

“It’s a stunning piece,” he murmurs eventually, leaning forward to press a kiss to your knee, right above the ink, his hair tickling your thigh, “Though I still think the canvas is the most beautiful thing of all.”

A snort escapes you and you bite your lip, heat rushing back to your cheeks, “You’re ridiculously corny, Rafayel.”

“I know.” His smile shifts into a wolfish grin as he stands up, scooping you into a hug. You squeal as he spins you around, holding on tightly despite knowing he’d never drop you. It’s only when you’re positively red that he stops, his mirthful eyes watching your face. “It’s worth it if I get to see this face. I swear, cutie, if you do more things like this, I might become unbearable.”

“You never could,” you giggle and loop your arms around his neck, “Though, I was thinking maybe next time, you could come with me?”

Rafayel raises an eyebrow, “Oh? You want to get matching tattoos? I’ll admit, I’ve never considered it…but if it’s with you, I can’t think of anything more fitting.”

“You’ll have to design it, of course,” you hum, tone turning a little more excited, “Oh, I can’t wait! It’ll be so fun! We can do it the next time I take a break, and after swimming season, obviously.”

Leaning in, Rafayel gives you a short kiss, laughing against your lips, “Anything you want, my lady. As long as it’s with you, I’ll enjoy every minute of it.”

---

Zayne

The first time Zayne sees your tattoos is when you reunite at Akso. You’re not sure how long it’s been, having only seen him every so often at Grandma Josephine’s for dinner. All you know is that he’s been busy, and is now one of the most remarkable young doctors in Linkon.

And also your new primary care physician.

“Knock knock.”

You rasp your knuckles lightly against the door to his office, eyes lingering on the nameplate displayed prominently beside it. A strange sense of pride swells in your chest. To think, your childhood best friend would reach such heights.

“Come in,” Zayne calls, voice as aloof as ever.

You slip into his office and let the door shut behind you. The doctor sits at his desk, flicking through a file on his tablet. You hesitate on the edge of his peripherals, not sure exactly what to do or how to act. It’s been a long time since you two have been truly close, not since- But you’ve missed him.

A lot.

“My apologies, my previous surgery ran longer than expected so I am still collecting your records.” You blink, his voice drawing you back out of your thoughts. “You may take a seat if you’d like.”

“Okay.”

Maybe you’re the only one who feels weird about it. He seems completely unaffected, like you’re a normal patient, ever the professional. You awkwardly drag a stool a little closer to his desk, just far enough to not seem weird and so it doesn’t feel like you’re looking over his shoulder.

After the silence goes a tick too long, you can’t help but break it, fingers fiddling nervously with your sweater, “How have you been, Doctor Zayne?”

A faint smile ghosts across his lips. You haven’t changed one bit.

“I’ve been well, thank you for asking. Work has become quite constant, so I’m afraid I haven’t been able to accept many of Josephine’s dinner invitations.” His eyes dart over to you briefly before focusing back on his screen. “You look like you’ve been doing well since we last saw each other.”

“I have,” you chirp, anxiety easing up a bit, “I’m really close to being finished with training and finally joining the Hunters Association. You should try to make it to dinner this week though! Grandma really misses you. She talks about you all the time.” You falter, cheeks warming a little. “...We’re all really proud of you, Zayne.”

Zayne’s fingers freeze against the tablet. An indecipherable look crosses his face, but he schools his features quickly and gives you a small smile.

“Thank you…you both have always been so kind to me,” he murmurs and finally turns to face you, “I’ll try my best to make it to dinner this week.”

Your face lights up, excitement sparking in your eyes. “Okay! I’ll let her know! She’ll probably make all your favorites. They haven’t changed, right?”

Zayne shakes his head, and you can’t help but kick your feet giddily. It’ll be nice to catch up. You have so many questions, and also so many stories to tell from your training days.

“Now that those plans are made, shall we proceed with your exam?”

“Right, right.” You almost forgot that’s what you’re here for. Nerves coming back, you shuffle on top of the stool. “What do you need me to do?”

“First, if you would remove your jacket, I’ll take your blood pressure and listen to your heart,” he instructs, voice settling back into something professional and neutral.

As Zayne turns away to fetch whatever tools he needs, you make quick work of taking your jacket off. The room is a little chillier than you expect. You wrap your arms around yourself to chase away the goosebumps that erupt across your skin. Your eyes stay glued on Zayne though, watching as he pulls a stethoscope and blood pressure monitor from one of his drawers.

“Do you usually do exams in your office?” You ask offhandedly.

“Not usually. As a cardiothoracic surgeon, I don’t often conduct general exams,” he hums, cleaning off the blood pressure cuff with a sterile wipe.

“Am I special or something, then?”

“With the rarity of your protocore syndrome, I thought it would be most effective to handle your care myself, yes. Though if it makes you uncomfortable we can-”

Zayne’s words cut off as he finally looks back at you. Surprise flickers across his face.

You freeze like a deer caught in headlights, though you don’t know why. Is there something on your face? A stain on your tank top? You glance down, finding nothing of the sort.

“What? What is it? Do I have something on me?” Your hands flicker up to your face, but you don’t feel anything.

Zayne blinks and shakes his head as if coming out of a stupor. The lightest blush warms his ears.

“My apologies. I just wasn’t aware you had so many tattoos.”

Oh. Holding out your arms, you look over the expanse of ink on your skin. You guess it’s a lot. It has taken you a few years, but you’ve effectively covered your arms and shoulders in art. Most of it is florals, with small, meaningful symbols or items hidden in the foliage. You also have a few others, though they’re covered by your clothes.

“I guess you wouldn’t have seen them,” you hum thoughtfully, “I wear a lot of long sleeves to Grandma’s dinners. And work requires us to cover them up.”

“They’re quite intricate.” He sets his tools aside, drawing his chair closer to you. His hand reaches for your arm, but pauses, his eyes darting up to yours. “May I?”

“Go for it,” you whisper, feeling a little bashful now that his attention is focused solely on you.

His fingers graze your wrist lightly, as if he’s scared to press too hard. You watch as he silently turns your arm over, taking in every minute detail of your tattoos. He lingers a little longer on the small, anatomical heart at the center of it all, surrounded by gentle jasmines. They’re incredibly well done, even he can see that, and they all look like they were done some time ago.

Something melancholic and sentimental settles in his chest.

“I remember when you were just a little girl, crying over her popsicle…You truly are all grown up now, aren’t you?” His voice is thick with something you can’t quite pinpoint, his touch turning impossibly tender as he traces the lines up your elbow.

Your heart flutters a little too wildly for your likings. “You’re all grown up too, mister chief cardiac surgeon. That’s a lot bigger than some tattoos.”

Another smile pulls at his lips, breaking his impassive facade.

“These have all healed well, though,” Zayne says, a spark of mischief flickering in his eyes as that strange emotion recedes, “You must have taken good care of them, and that alone is an impressive feat for you. That’s how I know you’ve grown up.”

A mock gasp escapes you and you pull your hand away to press it against your chest. If only to break the contact so he doesn’t notice your racing pulse.

“Doctor Zayne, I am deeply offended at your insinuation,” you insist vehemently, “I am a responsible person, soon to be an amazing hunter! I know how to take care of myself.”

“Says the woman who walked on a sprained ankle for a week out of pure stubbornness.”

“How was I supposed to know it was sprained?”

“I told you it was.”

---

Xavier

The first time Xavier sees your tattoos is after a mission that doesn’t go quite right. You come home with a bandage wrapped around your shoulder and chest, and the added instructions to change the gauze once a day. Which, of course, you can’t do yourself.

“Xav?”

Xavier glances up from where he’s sitting in the sun, a book long forgotten in his lap. Those sleepy blue eyes land on you questioning. You shuffle awkwardly in the doorway, a roll of gauze in your hand.

“Would you help me real quick?” You mumble, a soft blush warming your cheeks, “I can’t uh, I can’t change them myself.”

“Of course,” he hums immediately, standing and stretching languidly, much like a cat. “I am at your service, my lady.”

“Thanks,” you sigh, shoulders sagging, which sends a twinge of pain down your arm.

It was a nasty cut. You had been so focused on fighting one wanderer that you hadn’t noticed another smaller one appearing behind you. It was your fault, and thankfully it didn’t hit anything serious, but it was in just the right place to make moving your arm difficult.

Xavier silently leads you back into the kitchen. Taking the bandages from your hand, he pulls out a chair and motions for you to sit. You do so carefully, not wanting to jostle your body too much. The hunter sets the gauze aside and kneels down in front of you, his fingers finding the hem of your sweater and pausing, placid blue eyes turning up to you in question.

Ever the gentleman.

A tiny smile pulling at your lips, you offer him a small nod. That’s all he needs to pull it off, his hands moving slowly, with the utmost care. Thankfully, the room isn’t too cold, the setting sun pouring through the window and warming the space. The fabric musses your hair as he slips it over your head, and you instinctively reach up to fix it.

Completely missing the way Xavier’s eyes go wide as he looks down at you.

There aren’t a lot of things that catch the hunter off guard. But the ink covering your skin certainly does. Even with the bandages, he can tell it’s expansive, curling around your shoulders, dipping down your upper arms, painting the entirety of your back. It’s reminiscent of Starry Night, hundreds if not thousands of strokes forming delicate lines that follow the natural curves of your body, flowing so beautifully that they practically beg his fingers to trace them.

And as always with you, Xavier has a startling lack of self-control.

You blink at the feeling of his fingers grazing your uninjured shoulder. His touch is so light, you could almost mistake it for a breath. Almost like he’s worried he’ll hurt you.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, voice twinged with concern as you try and twist to look at where his touch lingers against your skin.

“Stay still,” Xavier orders gently, and you freeze, brows arching in confusion. Realizing you're panicking a little, the hunter leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, offering a soft explanation, “You never told me you have so many tattoos. I simply want to appreciate them.”

“Oh.” Your nerves fizzle out, replaced with an embarrassed tinge of excitement. So that’s what this is about. “I forgot I haven’t shown you them yet. I guess I’m so used to them that I forget they’re there, especially since I have to cover them for work.”

Xavier shifts behind you, fingers following the lines over your shoulder. They bleed into a wash of color, dark blue and purple and pink splashes across your back. A small planet of light sits between your shoulder blades, numerous stars dancing around it. His touch lingers on the planet, a flicker of light spilling from his fingers as his evol reacts unprovoked.

“What made you choose this?” He asks, voice wavering imperceptibly.

“I’m not sure,” you hum, shrugging your good shoulder, “I’ve always liked space. My grandma used to take me to the planetarium a lot when I was young, and I used to have dreams about it, of floating between planets and exploring the stars. I always felt drawn to this one planet, it was so pretty and it looked like it was made of light, but I could never reach it…”

Philos.

Something twinges in Xavier’s chest. How strange. You don’t remember the planet, that’s for certain, yet some part of you was still connected to it. To your home. To him. All this time…

“It’s beautiful,” he all but whispers.

Heat tinges your cheeks. That’s not usually what people say. It’s not for everyone, you know that. It’s a lot of ink, but you dreamt for so long about getting it. Still, most people usually just make offhand comments, not exactly rude, but not exactly compliments either. Like, oh that must have hurt a lot. Or, you must have saved a lot of money, huh?

Never beautiful.

And yet Xavier traces your ink with what almost feels like admiration. It makes your heart flutter with an uncharacteristic shyness, shoulders jolting up to your neck.

That’s when you remember your injury.

Letting out a low hiss, you drop your shoulder quickly as pain sizzles down your arm. Both of you had practically forgotten about it, caught in the moment. Xavier’s brow furrows again, an apology floating past his lips as he draws his fingers away - much to your disappointment.

“It’s okay,” you breathe, offering him a weak smile, “I just pulled it a little funny. We should probably check it, though.”

“Alright, I’ll be gentle,” he murmurs as he reaches for the edge of your bandage.

“...Thanks, by the way.”

You’re not sure what exactly you’re thanking him for. Helping you or his sweet reaction to the art decorating your skin. Maybe both.

And Xavier must know. He leans down, lips ghosting over your shoulder is an adoring kiss.

“Of course, my star.”

---

Sylus

The first time Sylus sees your tattoos is, of course, on the night you attend the auction. There’s no hiding the ink covering your body when you’re wearing a dress, after all. If anything, though, you think they’ll help you fit in a little better in the N109 Zone.

And you love the reaction Sylus gives you when you step out into the foyer.

For the briefest moment, his eyes go wide. Shock, perhaps the rarest emotion you’ve never had the pleasure of seeing on him, flashes behind those carmine eyes. In an instant, it disappears though, hidden with his usual cocky expression, one of his fine brow ticking up in amusement.

“I’ll admit, sweetie,” the man hums, “You’ve surprised me.”

You flash him a cat-like grin, satisfaction burning deep in your veins, and give a little theatrical spin, “Not what you were expecting, huh?”

Hardly a single part of your body remains untouched by ink. Most of the designs are artistic. Flourishing lines twisting and curling around your muscles, strangely reminiscent of the form his evol takes. They form a network of delicate webs across your body, sometimes forming shapes, sometimes with words written along the fine linework.

It’s hauntingly beautiful. Sylus can’t help but let his eyes slowly rove over your form, taking in every detail. They’re like a map, and his fingers are itching to explore every part of you, to see just how far the ink slips below the hem of the dress. A dress which he bought for you yet can’t be bothered to even notice now, not with such a dazzling sight set before him.

“Who knew the kitten would turn into a tigress at night,” he murmurs, voice going low and teasing as he slowly circles around you, a predatory glint in his eyes.

Your boldness wavers.

Sylus always seems to have that effect on you. Like a lamb straying from the herd and being found by the wolf. Prey before a predator starved, maw open and hungry, as if he could consume you whole. And all you can do is hold your ground, even if your legs shake, like that little lamb’s.

“Careful, Sylus,” you whisper, trying to appear unshaken by not following him with your eyes, despite the unease you feel not knowing exactly where he is, “This tiger has claws.”

You feel more than hear his presence come up behind you. A shiver traces down your spine when his breath skates over your ear, warm and far too intentional. In the same way, his fingers trace reverently down your arm, following the path of your ink, until they can intertwine with yours and draw your hand up to his lips.

“And that’s how I prefer you.” His voice is low, a mere rumble against your skin as he kisses your knuckles. Another shudder. “After all, it would be a shame to declaw such a beautiful creature. Even if she likes to scratch.”

God, you hate him.

You hate that it takes everything in you to rip yourself away from his enticing warmth. You hate that your heart is racing against your ribs, like it’s trying desperately to escape. And you especially hate the absolutely smug grin that plays on his lips (and the fact that you want to kiss it so badly).

“You’re teasing me,” you breathe unsteadily, putting space between the two of you.

Something dark flashes in his eyes, “Whatever do you mean, sweetie? I was merely giving you a compliment.”

“Then you give weird compliments,” you fire back, arms wrapping around yourself. “It sounds more like you’re making fun of me.”

Sylus pauses. Those ruby red eyes narrow on you thoughtfully, his lips pressing into a thin line. A tick of silence. Then his expression smoothes into something almost soft, and he takes a few measured steps towards you. Long fingers graze your palm again. A question.

And you give in far too easily, not fighting as he intertwines your fingers once again. His other hand skirts along your exposed shoulder, following the lines of your tattoo as they fade at your neck. You’re frozen under the sudden tenderness of his touch, your pulse racing against his fingertips.

“My apologies, kitten. That wasn’t my intention,” he murmurs, eyes boring into yours with an unnerving genuineness, “I simply meant that your tattoos are...befitting of your character. You are truly…” He looks you over once more, his gaze leaving a tantalizing heat in its wake. That dangerous smile curls his lips again. “Captivating.”

You inhale shakily.

No one has said something like that to you before. Not that you can remember, at least. It would sound cheesy from someone else, but from Sylus? The intensity of his tone leaves you feeling as unsteady as your heart. Lightheaded.

All you can do is blink up at him, eyes wide and doe-ish. No smart retort or comeback. Your mouth, in fact, feels remarkably dry. It fills the man with a touch of pride, rendering you so speechless.

Not one to let you stay dumbfounded for too long, though, Sylus lets out a smooth chuckle and taps your chin, “Careful, sweetie. If you look at me like that, I might just think you’re falling for me.”

Which of course works. Because he knows you better than you know yourself.

“I am not!” You squawk, face going up in flames. “You just surprised me, that's all! I didn’t know you were capable of such niceties.”

Sylus grins, drawing away as you swat at his hand, “Then it seems that we’re even.”

You scowl at him. So not fair.

“Now, would you like to accompany me to this auction, sweetheart?” He offers his arm. You keep your pout up for only a few seconds before giving in and slipping your hand around his elbow begrudgingly. Sylus hums in amusement, leaning in to press a ghost of a kiss against your cheek. “Looking like this, you’ll have no trouble getting the results you’ve been searching for, tonight. You’ll be the perfect distraction, my dear.”

“Well then, let’s not keep them waiting, shall we?”

---

Not gonna lie, Sylus' was probably my favorite. In my head I was kind of picturing the tattoos that Anthony Padilla has (from smosh, yes, sue me), and I just think he would totally call you a tiger since he likes calling you kitten.

Hope y'all enjoyed!

I'm really feeling some angst next possibly...

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mirensiart · 3 days ago

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Old meme I decided to make it LU lmao

Explanation of the each phrase under the cut, since I know some are difficult to understand without context

Chef’s kiss? Do they really? -> thinking the chefs kiss each other instead of the chef’s kiss 👌🏻gesture to say that something is great

The bird flu? Yeah they do that -> mishearing flu as flew

So you’re telling me a shrimp fried this rice? -> shrimp fried rice being interpreted as the shrimp frying the rice

What’s upstairs? They can’t talk! -> thinking the person is asking “what is up?” as in “how’s it going?” to the stairs instead of “what is upstairs?” (As in what is physically up the stairs) which is why they reply with “they can’t talk!”

Based? Based on what? -> thinking the usual “based” reply when u agree with someone is literal lol

Apartment Complex? I find it quite simple -> thinking they mean the apartment is complex (as in difficult to understand)

Road work ahead, I sure hope it does! -> from an old vine lmao but basically thinking the “road work ahead” sign means the road is in working order instead of works being made on the road

Wood fired pizza? How is pizza going to find a job now? -> thinking the wood fired the pizza from its job instead of being a way to cook pizza

you’re telling me a ginger bred this man? -> gingerbread man being heard as ginger bred man, I personally put twilight here cause he does have ginger ancestors lmao

Anyway this is super dumb lmao

#this is so dumb lmao #also using my own art for this #miry’s yapping #please read under the cut to see the explanations 🙌🏻💖

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loveshotzz · 1 year ago

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My name’s Elvira, but you can call me tonight

steve harrington x eddie’sbestfriend!reader

Melt With You

summary: A cancelled movie night, Steve’s first high, and a realization you weren’t expecting.

wc: 2.7k

warnings: my blog is 18+ but this will be pretty safe for work. takes place in 1988 when Elvira Mistress of the Dark came out. post season four but no mention of the upside down, fem!reader, mentions of weed smoking, mentions of being stoned and being high for the first time, mutual pining, cuddling.

A/N: first I want to dedicate this to @bewilderedbunny for pointing out that Steve Harrington is Bob coded which made me fall even more in love with him. You can also thank @dr-aculaaa for putting this brain worm in my head where it spiraled and then she entertained it again and it spiraled some more. p.s. I know her movie macabre was cancelled in 86 but brought back in the 90’s but let’s pretend.

mini series masterlist -> chapter two 🎃

Steve was close. Too close.

His thigh is warm pressed against yours, long legs spread wide taking up most of the room on the couch. The cedar that clings to the threads of his maroon sweater mix with the old spice that he’s almost sprayed too much of, and you’re surprised at how much you actually like it. You blame it on the joint you both shared, and you do it again when his socked foot touches yours from under the blanket draped across your laps and your heart rate kicks up a few beats. This was just Steve, your new friend. Eddie’s new unlikely friend.

The living room in your apartment is dimly lit in a mess of Halloween colored string lights strung up along your walls that Eddie helped you hang up last week on the first official day of fall. They fill the small space in bursts of warm orange pumpkins and tiny purple bats while Elvira Mistress of The Dark glows from the screen of your TV in front of your couch. The couch where Steve is still sitting too close.

The flicker of your candles dances across your walls and you’re tempted to blow them all out when they keep catching the corner of your eye. Maybe that's why you can't focus on the movie you were so excited about. The movie you raised a big fuss over when the group canceled your weekly night in favor of dates and work. The movie Steve still offered to watch with you saying he had no plans anyway. You really contemplate it when you realize it’s filling your living room with the kind of smell that’s eerily similar to the one embedded in the leather of the BMW you recently started getting more rides in.

When Steve laughs you can smell the berry on his breath from the Red Vines he can’t stop eating, his fingertips glisten from the half finished tub of popcorn on the coffee table. His arm brushes the length of yours when he leans forward to toss the almost empty pack of candy with the rest of the snacks and your stare immediately finds the sliver of tan skin revealed to you when the maroon hem rides up. Stomach flipping when you spot more freckles than the ones that seem to dot the endless expanses of his perpetually sun kissed skin.

“Wow, she’s funny!” He snickers like he just got a good surprise, leaning back into the cushions. “I didn’t know she was so funny.”

The shift in his weight makes the couch dip, bringing you closer to him. Shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. Why is your chest tight?

Turning your head, you meet his blood shot, heavy lidded gaze and lazy smile that pushes up his pink cheeks. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Steve Harrington so content. So relaxed. It might have something to do with the fact that the joint you both shared was his first.

“Beauty, humor and brains? How could you go wrong?” You grin and it makes the amber in his eyes light up.

“Yeah,” He stares at you for a second longer than he’d have the guts to on a normal day before adding with a sigh “tell me about it.”

There was something different about the way he was looking at you tonight, and it makes your palms sweat. The fly away honey strands that stick out wildly by his ears look softer than normal too. Why do you want to find out? Clearing your throat, he raises his eyebrows up at you in an unphased offering of his attention.

“How are you doing big boy? You coughed quite a bit earlier.” His gaze narrows at the nickname letting you know that Steve was still very much in there.

“I think it’s perfectly normal for someone who hasn’t smoked before to cough when they take an accidental big hit,” he challenges, his sock covered toes finding yours again seemingly on their own, “and to answer your rudely asked question, I’m having a very nice time.”

He tries to keep his face straight but the smile that stretches a mile wide across yours makes him snort, the whites of his perfect teeth blinding in the dark when you wiggle your feet with his.

“Good, I wouldn’t want Robin to come hunt me down or something.” You giggle leaning back letting your own high relax you into the couch.

Your eyes find Elvira’s generous cleavage on the screen as you try to ignore the feeling of Steve’s hand touching yours when he scratches his thigh and again when he leaves it there.

“Robin won’t care, it’s Nance you gotta worry about. Worry wart Wheeler.” The nickname rolls off his tongue too easily and makes you both stop, letting the sounds of the towns committee trying to get Elvira out fill the silence before you both fall into a fit of laughter.

It was the kind of laughter that left hot tears streaming down your faces as you leaned even further into each other trying to catch your breath, only for one of you to mutter ‘worry wart wheeler’ when the other would finally be holding it together just to start all over again. By the time it was done, and the last few chuckles subsided, his head had found a new home on your shoulder with his forehead buried in the crook of your neck.

The smell of his hairspray, and the soft flyaways you’d wondered about tickle your nose with his hair pressed to your cheek. Your socked feet stay tangled together as you try not to think about the size difference and that stupid saying you’d heard in middle school, and you definitely try not to think about how the tip of his pinky bumps into the side of your hand and how you don’t hesitate to hook it with yours.

Cozy. Too Cozy.

There’s a comfortable silence that falls between you both when your attention is finally brought back to the movie and you wonder if he’s having the same existential crisis as you at how good this feels. Eddie would never let you live it down. You and the hair?! Steve’s amused hum breaks you out of your train of thought and you already know you’ll have to watch this again when you aren’t so…distracted.

Elvira and Bob are fighting with a monster she accidentally concocted inside of a pot instead of the casserole she was trying to make, and his finger tightens around yours when Bob almost loses the fight before he shakes against you with a chuckle. The longer the movie goes on, the more you start noticing Steve’s similarities to the hunk who stole the Mistress of the Dark’s affections, mumbling an ‘oh my god’.

God dammit, you have a crush on Steve Harrington.

The weed makes the realization floor you more than it probably would on a normal day, because you aren’t blind, anyone could tell you how handsome the former king of Hawkins is. But no one could have warned you about how soft he is, especially right now with sleepy eyes and messy hair that smells like pine and too much hair product. They wouldn’t be able to tell you how big of a dweeb he is, or as Robin affectionately calls him a ‘dingus’. They also don’t know how good of a friend he is to anyone who’s lucky to have him, like refusing to let you spend the night alone and watching a movie he knew you were excited about just because he’d actually listened when you talked about it for weeks, even saving you the first copy in Keith’s possession.

Too bad you’ve barely retained any of it.

As if he could hear your thoughts, you feel the slight turn of his head and the heavy weight of his stare on the side of your face. You try not to give yourself away and keep your gaze locked on the TV where the town has Elvira ready to be burned at the stake, and Bob has to rescue her. You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, the universe just rubbing it in now.

The side of your body he’s been leaning against starts to go numb, and no matter how much you want to stay exactly like this for whatever is left of the night, the need for circulation becomes too much. Your eyes flick down to his that haven’t haven’t wavered and that slow happy smile spreads across his pink lips when they meet.

“You doing okay, honey.” The nickname he’s called you sarcastically in arguments sounds different when it’s wrapped in affection like this.

“Not that I’m not enjoying -,” nerves make your throat close up and you have to clear them out before you finish, “not that I’m not enjoying this. My arm is just kind of going numb.”

Heat rises to your cheeks with embarrassment that you know is misplaced, and his eyes go wide when your words click. His reaction is fast despite the smoked joint that's snuffed out in an empty coke can on the table when he pulls away. The warmth of his body that’s invaded what feels like every inch of yours for the last hour is gone and the tightness in your chest worsens now that you miss it. Stupid crush. Stupid blood flow.

“Oh my god, sorry, sorry, I was just so comfortable I wasn’t even thinking.” There’s stress in his tone that you haven’t heard all night and you decide that you hate it, he’s always stressed.

“Hey,” Your fingers curl around his bicep, and it flexes under the thick material of his sweater when his eyes meet yours, making you forget how to speak for a moment, “if we lay down on our sides we’ll - we’ll be more comfortable?”

Your heart beats loud in your ears after you throw out your suggestion fully knowing there’s gotta be less than twenty minutes left of the movie at most.

“Yeah, we can do that, like, big spoon?” He points to himself, with eyes as red as his cheeks before pointing to you with a small grin, “little spoon?”

You bite your bottom lip to contain the smile that threatens to break across your face, and it only makes his grow.

“Yeah, just like that Harrington.” You giggle and you don’t miss the kind of glint in his eyes that sparkles because of it.

“Harrington? I thought I was big boy?” He mocks with fake offense, clumsily clambering back onto the couch letting himself fully extend.

His socked feet almost hang off the armrest but the problem is quickly solved when he turns onto his side leaving just enough room for you. One of his big hands patting the cushions in an invitation that makes you both laugh.

“I thought you hated that nickname?” you tease, butterflies that never existed before erupting when he watches you with soft eyes climb into the spot next to him.

Your head lands in the crook of his elbow, amber and spice enveloping you while one of his long fingers curl around your hip not hesitating to pull you flush against his chest like he missed you. Maybe you weren’t the only one with a wandering mind tonight.

“I don’t,” he agrees, lips coming up right next to your ear and you wonder if he can feel the shiver that runs down your spine, “but I kinda like it when you say it.”

Your body curls into him when you giggle with a throb in your core that makes your thighs press together. Steve chuckles, hooking his chin over your shoulder and his feet find yours at the end of the couch like they did under the blanket. Grabbing the throw off the floor, you drape it back over the two of you when you both finally get situated.

He feels like he’s everywhere and it’s even harder to concentrate like this, especially when all his fingers are laced with yours now. The pad of his thumb rubs circles on the top of your hand, and you can feel the way his cheeks push up into a grin every time something makes him laugh. You spend the last bit of what’s left of the movie tangled up with him like this, and neither one of you try to move when the credits roll or when the screen goes black.

The air buzzes with the kind of tension that’s laid dormant until there’s nothing to distract you from it anymore in the new silence. His breath fans hot across your neck while the strokes of his thumb get slower, adding a little more pressure to the muscle there, and feels good enough to have your eyes flutter closed.

Maybe it’s the darkness of your living room, or the way the tip of his nose starts to trace the shell of your ear but you get the surge of confidence you need to turn around and face him. Steve doesn’t protest at all, letting you move with the kind of ease that makes you wonder if he was waiting for it all along. The small smile on his face tells you he absolutely was.

The new angle has you looking up at him from under your lashes, while his hand that held yours all night covers the middle of your back bringing you to his chest, getting you just as close as before. Your legs slot together while warm lights flicker across his face, they bounce and reflect off the lingering glaze that coats his eyes. Embers burning in a mossy ground.

It starts to feel like Steve Harrington wants to kiss you, and you’d be lying if your said you didn’t want him too.

“Hi” You whisper, the corners of your lips pulling up because they can’t help it when he looks at you like this.

“Hi” the rich honey of his voice comes out low as he dips his head down to rest on his forearm right above yours.

The tips of your noses are dangerously close to touching, and you swear you hear his breath hitch when your feet find his again. Holding his gaze, you silently dare him to read your mind so you don’t have to say it out loud. You do it first.

“I had a lot of fun tonight.” You try not to think about how it sounds like something you’d say at the end of a date.

“Me too, I’m uh -“ a puff of hot air fans across your face when he laughs, and you notice his first sign of nerves all night, “I’m glad I didn’t make a fool of myself or anything.”

“I have to say I’m impressed, you handled your first joint like a pro.” Your hands dare to run up his chest, plucking a piece of lint from the threads of his sweater. You feel the way the muscles in his stomach flex for you, and you have to bite back your smirk.

“I had good company is all.” He hums, the blunt ends of his nails scratching along the dip of your back, before whispering “Is this okay?”

Your eyes flutter shut with contentment you haven’t felt in a while, your whole body melting into his with a mumbled ‘mmmhm’

“Does Elvira have any other movies we could watch sometime?” His question makes your eyes pop open, and he tries to look as nonchalant as possible before adding, “you know just me and you.”

“Not a movie, per say but she has a show I like to watch where she does funny commentary on B rated horror films.” Your two feet trap one of his between them playfully to try and ease the nerves he shouldn’t have, earning you that megawatt smile that’s made half the ladies in Hawkins swoon.

So, Steve Harrington wasn’t a mind reader.

“That sounds like fun,” He lets out a relieved sigh that you didn’t know he was holding, close enough now for your noses to touch.

“Yeah? You wanna come have fun with me?” You tease, but it comes out sounding like a double entendre that makes your skin heat up, especially when Steve closes his eyes and groans. The nails that scratch your back freeze as he tries regaining some semblance of self control. Licking his lips, he exhales a breath out of his nose before he speaks,

“Abso-“

His answer gets cut off by the sound of your front door slamming open, followed by the bellowing voice of the only other person who has keys to your apartment.

“I’ve come for boobies and I brought beer! Better late than never am I ri- Whoa, whoa, WHOA, what is going on here?” Eddie’s shock is quickly replaced by amusement, dimples poking deep holes in his cheeks when he grins wildly as he takes in the two of you on the couch.

What was going on here?

#my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington thoughts #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x fem!reader

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spiicii · 23 days ago

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jey uso / possessive

x fem!reader word count → 3.7k summary → it was a cute skirt, but jey had made it clear it was too short for you to wear without him. you promised him you’d wait until your next date night to wear it, but it’s just too cute to leave in the back of your closet. surely he wouldn’t be mad if you wore it while you visited him at work? tags → jey likes to spoil you, possessive behavior, hickies, hair pulling, spanking, dirty talk, light choking, jimmy is a d1 instigator, not beta read

“Whoa, whoa, where you think you’re going?” Jey’s tone was playful, his arm snaking around your midsection and pulling you closer to him beneath the sheets.

“Babe, I gotta get ready,” you groaned, though you didn’t struggle as he pressed your body to his, his arm now securely fastened around your waist.

“Nah, you ain’t going nowhere.” He rumbled in your ear, though you could hear the smile in his words.

“Jey, please, I promised the girls…”

You trailed off as he reached up and captured your chin between his fingers, pulling your face close to his so he could kiss you. You melted into the kiss, allowing his other arm to wrap around you and press you even tighter against his toned chest.

He chuckled against your mouth, his grip on you unyielding as he kept you close.

“Whatchu even doin’ today? Why can’t you just stay here all naked and sexy for me until I come back?”

You rolled your eyes. “Keeping your bed warm isn’t my only job, you know.”

He leaned back to stare at you incredulously, though he was still smiling. “Oh, but wracking up my credit card bill is? That’s all you doin’ with your girls today, isn’t it? Shopping?”

You offered him a cheeky smile. “Maybe. They just wanted to check out that new store downtown.”

Jey shook his head. “Yeah, yeah, sure. New store. Next thing you know you’ll be going to the store next door. Then the one beside it. Then the one beside it…”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” you laughed, still making no effort to leave the warmth of his embrace, your legs still tangled together under the sheets. “But you don’t have to give me your credit card. I mean, if it’s really that big of a deal…”

“Whoa, now. Ain’t nobody say all that.”

“No?” You raised an eyebrow at him. “I got my own money.”

His frown at you was playful. “No girl of mine is gon’ be spending her own hard-earned money. It’s my job to spoil you.”

“You spoil me then complain that I’m spoiled,” you giggled, watching as a goofy smile spread across his face.

“You are spoiled,” he laughed, leaning forward to press kisses against your neck. “But you right. I do spoil you. Probably too much.”

You let out a sigh as his hands roamed your body, his lips warm and gentle against the hollow of your throat.

“Take back the credit card then.” You breathed, goosebumps rising as his beard scratched across your exposed skin.

“Never.” He murmured, his mouth beginning to latch onto your throat, his fingers curling into the soft flesh of your thighs. His breath was warm behind your ear, his long legs wrapping around yours like vines.

“No hickies,” you pleaded, even as you continued to bare his neck to him willingly, not even trying to push him away.

“Just one.” He gasped against your neck, his fingers digging deeper into your flesh as he struggled to resist the urge to mark you.

It was a game the two of you often played. As much as you adored his marks on you, it was too hot for turtlenecks and they were a pain to cover. He always begged you anyways, some deeper, more primal instinct inside him itching to mark you as his. It was getting harder and harder to tell him no, especially when you enjoyed wearing them so much.

“Just a small one. Not too noticeable. Please, Jey…” But your plea was cut short by the feel of his lips closing around the delicate skin behind your ear, grill nipping against you as the bruise blossomed beneath his mouth.

You wanted to tell him to go easy, but you felt your body relax in his hold, even as the bruise deepened and his grip on your thighs became punishing.

You whimpered and he finally let you go, his eyes dark as he stared at the bruise rapidly forming high on your neck, half hidden by your hairline. His grip on you was still tight and you knew it was taking all of his willpower not to give you another one.

“Jey…” you breathed and the intensity of his eyes meeting yours made your body feel weak, butterflies now in your stomach. “I…I have to get up.”

His gaze was unblinking at you, almost as if he were weighing his options. You knew him too well. He was thinking about rolling you over for round two, adding more hickies to the one behind your ear and pounding into you until you were seeing stars.

You softened beneath his gaze, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “I have to go. And so do you. You agreed to meet Jimmy early this morning.”

At the mention of his twin, you watched as Jey blinked, seemingly shaken from his faraway thoughts. His face broke into a smile.

“He can wait.”

You shook your head, a breathless laugh on your lips. “You’re ridiculous. Come on, let me up.”

You moved out of his embrace and was surprised that for once he didn’t resist, allowing you to untangle yourself from his long limbs. He stared at you adoringly.

“You’re lucky I care about my job, little girl,” he growled, watching as you stood and stretched your arms above your head. “Or else we wouldn’t be leaving this bedroom all day.”

You giggled, shaking your head again. “If you had it your way we’d stay here forever. Except maybe to go to Waffle House.”

You tried not to laugh as he perked up at your words, the move far too similar to a golden retriever who just heard the word walk. “You wanna go this morning?”

You picked up his discarded shirt from the floor and threw it at him. “With what time? Besides, aren’t you on that juice cleanse with Jimmy?”

Jey scowled, sitting up in the bed to lean back against the headboard. “That was his dumbass idea, not mine.”

“You’ve barely even started it!” You chided, moving to the closet to pick out some outfits for the day. “Besides, he’ll know if you cheat.”

Jey scoffed. “No way. And I’ll bet he cheatin’ on his own anyway! That fool can’t ever say no to Whataburger.”

You laughed as you got dressed, watching him in the full-length mirror as you moved around the room. His posture was relaxed, legs sprawled out beneath the white sheets, his arm slung lazily behind his head as he leaned back to stare at you with hooded eyes.

“Whatchu gon’ wear today?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. What do you think of this?” You held up a simple sundress and he whistled. “Girl, you better not wear that shit ‘round me. I’ll be hiking that thing up and fucking you raw.”

“Jesus, Jey!” You admonished, though you couldn’t hide your pleased smile. “Fine. No sundress. But are you gonna get up? You’ve got like ten minutes max to get out the door before Jimmy starts blowing up my phone.”

Jey scoffed. “Pshhhh forget him. I wanna see my girl try on some outfits for me.”

As if on cue, Jey’s ringtone shattered the peaceful air of the bedroom, the sound muffled beneath the sheets. He cursed as he fumbled to look for his phone.

“Why the hell you callin’ me, fool?” Jey answered and you heard Jimmy’s laughter echo through the speaker phone.

“Because I know you ain’t up, fool. You gon’ be late. Again. If I didn’t call you’d be curled up in bed with yo’ girl all day.”

“He’s right, babe,” you teased, clasping on a bra. “You need to get up.”

Jey scowled as Jimmy laughed at your words. “See? Now get yo’ ass up. I’m five minutes out.”

“Man, I’m done with y’all,” Jey grumbled, but you were happy to see that he was beginning to climb out of bed.

“And before you even ask, no, we’re not stopping for breakfast.” Jimmy continued, undeterred by his brother’s grumpiness. “I know you wanna cheat on this cleanse but we gotta stay strong, uce.”

“Get outta here with that bullshit,” Jey groaned. “My girl already said no to Waffle House.”

“Good! We still got a week to go! If you cheat you gotta start all over.”

“Like hell.” Jey muttered, grabbing some of his discarded clothing from the floor and heading towards the bathroom. You could still hear Jimmy’s voice as the two of them continued to bicker.

Meanwhile, you were still trying to decide on what to wear for your day out. The weather was mild enough for a thin long sleeve, but not for pants. After some thought, you decided on one of the new skirts you’d bought last week. It was short, much shorter than you usually wore, and you knew it would drive Jey crazy knowing that you were out and about with it on.

You had just finished pulling the skirt above your hipbones when you heard Jey conclude his conversation with Jimmy and walk back into the bedroom. He was dressed now, his face freshly washed and a toothbrush hanging from his mouth.

“Hey, babe, I-” He stopped mid-sentence at the sight of you in front of the mirror. You flashed him a cheeky smile.

“What do you think? I bought it last week. Isn’t it adorable?”

He seemed to have trouble speaking, his eyes glued to your body, a dollop of toothpaste falling from his still open mouth onto his shirt.

You giggled and twirled, just to tease him. “I was going to save it for date night but today’s the perfect day to wear it, don’t you think?”

He finally removed the toothbrush from his mouth and tried to speak.

“You…where you think you goin’ looking like that?”

You pouted. “What do you mean? You don’t like it?”

His eyes darkened. “You know exactly what I mean, little girl. Ain’t no way in hell I let you out this house with your ass hangin’ out.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “It is not hanging out. It’s not even that short.”

“Not even…?” He scoffed, grabbing a towel from the bathroom to wipe the toothpaste from his shirt. “I know you ain’t for real. You know damn well that skirt is too short.”

You did know, but you liked getting him riled up. You turned your back to him to sit down at your vanity mirror. “Well I’m wearing it today. It’s cute and I like it. I’m sorry you don’t.”

His phone rang from his pocket again and he cursed, returning to the bathroom to rinse out his mouth. When he returned you heard Jimmy on the speaker again.

“Uce, if you don’t get yo’ ass downstairs I swear to god I’m coming up there.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” Jey grumbled, quickly grabbing his things. “I’m coming.”

You watched as he fumbled around the room, phone still in hand as Jimmy continued to gripe on speaker. You watched him in the mirror with a raised eyebrow, unmotivated to help him find his wallet and keys. Your eyes met in the mirror and his gaze was hard.

“You listen to me,” he growled, his finger pointed at you menacingly. ”You ain’t going out in that. You take that shit off and save it for date night. Understand?”

“Oh, shit. What she got on, uce?” God, Jimmy was nosey as hell.

“Man, shut up!” Jey snapped. He looked back at you. “No arguments, little girl. You go out lookin’ like that I’ll bend you over my knee when I get home. You understand?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, okay. Fine.”

He seemed satisfied with your response, still frantically searching the room for his belongings.

“Uce, we already late.” Jimmy sounded annoyed. “Our trainer’s gon’ kill us, man.”

Jey was still frantically searching the room. “Fuck, babe, where my keys at?”

You sighed. “They fell behind the bedside table, remember?”

“Shit, you right.”

Once he finally retrieved his keys, he sprinted to your side, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “See you later, baby.”

You smiled as you watched him run back towards the door, throwing one last goofy smile over his shoulder at you. “Love you!”

You chuckled. Jey was always a whirlwind. “Love you too!”

***

He forgot his juice in the fridge. Of course he had. He’d been so frazzled this morning you weren’t surprised. But you hadn’t expected him to text you asking if you could bring him something from the local juice bar downtown. And normally this wouldn’t be a problem. You and the girls were done shopping anyways and you already were downtown, but there was just one problem…

You hadn’t taken off the skirt like you promised.

After Jey had left, you’d considered listening to him. You really had. But ultimately it was just too cute to put back in the closet. You tried to tell yourself that was the only reason why you were flouting Jey’s wishes and going out in the shortest skirt you owned. It definitely had nothing to do with the small thrill you felt knowing you were being bratty, directly disobeying him just to get him riled up.

As you picked up his juice and drove to the training center, you started feeling nervous. He was normally used to your antics, but what if this had been a bad idea?

It was too late to turn back now. You’d already parked and forced yourself to make the walk to the twin’s locker room. You tried to push down your nervousness, but by the time you made it to the locker room, your heart was fluttering in your chest. It took all of your courage to push open the door and head inside.

At first, the room looked empty, but then you heard a low whistle, your heart instantly in your throat.

“Damn, girl. Jey let you leave the house like that?”

You let out a breath. It was only Jimmy. He was sitting in the corner, wiping his sweaty face with a towel as he watched you with a raised eyebrow.

“Or is that the skirt he told you not to wear without him?” Jimmy’s tone was far too smug for your liking.

You scowled. “Leave it alone, Jimmy,” you hissed, quickly moving across the room to shove the juice into his hands. “Here, give this to him.”

Jimmy took the juice from you, though a knowing smile was beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth. “What? You don’t wanna give it to him yourself?”

You glared at him. “You know damn well I don’t. I’m going home. Not a word to him about the skirt. Promise?’

“And what am I supposed to tell him when he asks why you left?”

“I don’t know! Figure something out.”

Jimmy laughed, but thankfully he didn’t seem too bothered. “Whatever, girl. You crazy though. Better hope he don’t catch you on your way out.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, turning away. “See you later.”

Before you could make it to the door to leave, you heard Jey’s familiar voice on the other side and your heart dropped at the sound.

“Yeah, yeah, give me two seconds!” He was yelling at someone, presumably one of his trainers, before you watched in horror as the door opened and he entered.

The second his eyes landed on you, his eyes lit up, a goofy smile already forming on his face. “Hey babe!” He sounded excited to see you. “Did you bring the juice?”

He moved towards you, as if to give you a hug, but stopped in his tracks as he noticed what you were wearing. His eyes widened in realization, his smile quickly dimming as his gaze raked across you. You felt your ears burn, subconsciously reaching down to tug at your skirt, as if that would help cover the tops of your thighs.

“Oh shiiiiit,” Jimmy, ever the instigator, couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “You got the worst luck, girl. If you’d left just a few seconds earlier, you woulda missed him.”

Jey’s gaze at you was positively fiery, his smile gone, as if blown away by the wind. His dark eyes simmered, his lips now set in a tight line. He took a step towards you, and you instinctively took a step back in response, unable to meet his eyes.

“I know you not wearing what I think you’re wearing,” Jey’s tone was dangerous, but you couldn’t deny the small thrill that ran down your spine at his words.

You cringed at Jimmy’s laugh behind you. “Damn, uce. You let yo’ girl leave the house like that?”

God, couldn’t Jimmy mind his business for once? Jey seemed to agree. “Man, get the hell outta here.” He hissed, his fiery gaze now directly at his brother.

Jimmy laughed again, clearly amused. “Fine, fine! I’m leaving.”

He sauntered past, a towel slung over his shoulder as he threw you a wink. “Good luck, girl.”

You wanted to strangle him.

When the door slammed shut behind him, Jey turned his full attention back to you. He motioned to your skirt. “What the hell did I tell you about leaving the house dressed like that?”

You looked down at the floor, chewing on your bottom lip in nervousness.

When you didn’t answer, Jey’s hand shot out to grab your wrist, tugging him roughly towards him. You let out a gasp, colliding with his exposed chest, his skin still slick with sweat from training.

You didn’t have the courage to meet his eyes, so he reached up and threaded his fingers into your hair, tugging to force your head up to meet his gaze. Being this close to him, his eyes dark and smoldering as he stared down at you, you felt sparks of arousal shoot down your spine, your thighs instinctively closing as you felt wetness beginning to form between them.

Jey’s hand curled deeper into your hair and he tugged again, your lips parting at the delicious feeling and a small moan escaping. He quirked his eyebrows up at the sound, his other hand still closed tightly around your wrist.

“You fucking serious right now?” His tone was low, but you could hear the dangerous undercurrent beneath it, the sound going straight to your core. “Why’d you wear this shit? I told you not to. Answer me.” His tone brokered no room for argument.

“I…” You weren’t sure you could find the words, not when his hands felt so good on you, the tugging in your hair bordering between pleasure and pain. “I wanted…you to see me like this.”

Jey’s grip on your hair tightened. “Why?”

He knew why, the fucker, but he wanted to hear you say it. Wanted to hear you beg for it.

“I wanted you to punish me.” The words were barely a whisper passing your lips, your cheeks turning red in embarrassment as he glared down at you. “I wanted you jealous.”

Jey curled his lip at your words. “What’s the matter, little girl? I don’t give you enough attention? You gotta wear this shit out and about to get it?”

You shook your head vehemently. “No, no! I wanted you to-”

“And now every man who seen you today has seen this ass.” He released your wrist to reach around you and hike up the skirt, grabbing a handful of your ass still covered by your panties. “My ass. This belongs to me, doesn’t it, girl?”

You nodded, leaning into him as his fingers curled deeper in the flesh of your ass. He tugged on your hair again, forcing your head back so he could press a possessive kiss to your parted lips, his tongue a hot brand inside your mouth as he claimed you. You relaxed in his hold, even as he tugged your panties down and placed a smack across the exposed skin.

“It’s mine.” He growled against your mouth, the grip on your hair unforgiving. “All of it. And what do you do? You flaunt it all over town, letting any horny motherfucker see what belongs to me.”

Tugging you by the hair, he dragged you across the room to the nearest chair, taking a seat and throwing you across his knee without warning.

“Please, please,” you heard yourself begging even though you weren’t sure what you were begging for. “Please, Daddy…”

“Don’t even try with that sweet talk, girl.” He snarled, his hand colliding with your ass with such a force that you yelped. “I told you I would bend you over my knee if you wore this shit so that’s what imma do.”

“Please, Daddy, I’m-” He spanked you again, this time on the other cheek. “Please, I’m sorry!”

“Too late for sorry, girl,” He snapped, continuing to abuse your ass. “You knew whatchu was doin’. You wanted this. So shut up and take it.”

It hurt, but he doesn’t slow down, his large hand covering both sides of your ass with stinging hits. You feel tears prick at the corner of your eyes, beginning to squirm in his lap until he reaches around and uses his free hand to close around your throat, keeping you still.

“You got a safeword,” he gritted out, continuing to administer blow after blow against your reddened ass. “And you know how to use it.”

He was right, of course. You could stop this if you wanted, but right now that was the last thing on your mind. The feeling of his hand on your throat felt too good to even think about stopping, no matter how much your ass stung.

“But we both know you don’t want me to stop, don’t we, baby?” Jey’s words were scalding you from the inside out and an embarrassed whimper slipped past your lips. Jey let out a mocking laugh, even as he continued to spank you. “You making a mess between those legs. I can feel it. You love it when I do you like this, don’t you?”

You wanted to protest, just to save some of your pride, but you couldn’t find the words. Not as the tears started to stream down your cheeks, small huffs of breath escaping from parted lips as he continued to rain down smack after smack against your ass.

“You won’t be able to sit tomorrow without remembering this, girl,” he growled, his fingers still wrapped deliciously around your throat to keep you still. “And maybe then you’ll behave.”

#jey uso #jey uso x reader #jey uso fic #jey uso imagine #jey uso fanfiction #main event jey uso #wwe #wwe fanfiction #wwe fic #wwe imagine #jimmy uso #jey uso x you #jey uso x y/n

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yan-lorkai · 27 days ago

Note

I’m not sure if I can request this and I don’t know much about Halloween but I can totally imagine the first year gang starting a little pumpkin farm at Ramshackle. They’d carve pumpkins together and maybe sell some of them to earn a little pocket money

If it’s too much, no worries. just ignore this. Have a great day

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: This is such a lovely idea tbh, now i kinda of want to do something like this with my friends aaaa. This was supposed to be posted at 6am as always and i forget to queue it lol. Anyway, enjoy it darling!

The Ramshackle Dorm had never been busier nor more vibrant than now. It all started with a simple idea from Ace: “Hey, why don’t we grow some pumpkins here?” he had said a sunny afternoon, eyes glinting with mischief as gestured to the dead garden of his dorm.

“We can carve them for Halloween, and maybe even sell a few. Easy money, right?” He turned to Epel, who, just as mischievously, nodded.

With a few enthusiastic nods from Jack and Deuce, the plan was set in motion. Soon, even Sebek, who had initially scoffed at the idea as "a frivolous waste of time," found himself secretly invested when Malleus found out and praised him for having a hobby with a bunch of friends.

Days turned into weeks, and the once dead, wild yard of the Ramshackle Dorm was transformed. The first-year gang tilled the soil, planted seeds, and tended to their patch diligently. They took turns watering the sprouts, pulling out weeds, and shooing away curious crows. It was hard work, but there was a certain joy in it.

Jack took special pride in watching the tiny green shoots grow into fat, round pumpkins, while Epel appreciated the physical labor - he said that in that way he could gain muscles. Ace and Deuce made it a game, challenging each other to see who could grow the biggest pumpkin, which led to much bickering and laughter.

The yard was filled with the warm, earthy scent of pumpkins, and the air was filled with laughter. Each carved pumpkin was a reflection of its creator, scattered around the steps and windows of Ramshackle, glowing with flickering candles as the sun dipped below the horizon.

As the pumpkins ripened, the dorm's front yard slowly turned into a sea of orange, each pumpkin unique in size and shape. On one particularly crisp afternoon, as Halloween approached, they gathered around to start carving. Carving tools in hand, they sat in a circle, some humming, others chatting about what designs they’d make.

Ace boasted that he would create the scariest face, while Deuce shyly admitted he wanted to make a pumpkin with a cute smile so he could take a photo and sent it to his mother. Epel’s was, of course, carved with incredible detai l— a miniature masterpiece of intricate patterns, as he was used to carve apples. Jack’s was simple and classic, just like him. And Sebek, determined to outshine the rest, carved an elaborate dragon that he claimed was a tribute to his master, Malleus.

“Not bad, huh?” Ace said, admiring their work. “I mean, I could probably sell mine for way more than any of yours, but still.” He smirked, dodging a playful punch from Deuce.

“We’ll see about that,” You shot back, wiping your hands on your overalls. “Who wouldn’t want to buy one of mine?”

Throughout the day, the first-years ran the stand, chatting with students and selling their carved pumpkins. Sebek was surprisingly the best salesperson, his loud voice catching everyone’s attention and his pride making each pumpkin sound like a royal treasure. Epel made sure every customer left with a smile, slipping them a little extra vine or a perfect pumpkin seed as a token. Even Grim, though not directly involved in the growing process, found himself helping out, lured by the promise of sharing in the profits.

With their pumpkins carved, the group turned to the next phase of their plan. They set up a small stand by the gate, decorating it with the leftover vines and smaller pumpkins. A hand-painted sign read, "Pumpkins for Sale! Buy 1, Get 1 Free (if you can guess who carved it)!" It was Ace’s idea, of course, to add a little game to attract more customers. They were soon joined by curious students from other dorms, many who had heard about the little farm project and wanted to see the fruits (or rather, gourds) of their labor.

You still were surprised that their idea really attracted people. Even Sam was there, examining the pumpkins.

By the end of the evening, the pumpkin patch looked a bit emptier, but your pockets were a little heavier. All of you were tired, but it was the good kind of tired, where your cheeks hurt from smiling and your muscles ache in a satisfying way. As you sat together on the steps of Ramshackle, trapped between Deuce and Ace, watching the last of the daylight fade, there was a warm sense of accomplishment between them.

“This was a good idea,” Jack said, breaking the comfortable silence. “We should do it again next year.”

“Yeah,” Epel said, stretching out his arms. “Maybe we’ll even beat the big guys at their own game. Imagine if this little patch becomes the talk of Halloween.”

"What if other dorms try to do something like this, though?" You asked them.

You had so much fun those past few months, working at their side after clubs ended and the homework was made. You laughed, you chased them when they teamed up to tease you. Overall, it was the most fun you had since coming to this world.

Ace, who was using your left shoulder as a pillow, leaned up so he could see your eyes. "If this happens..." he looked at the other boys before catching your eyes again. "Then we'll crush them, no doubt."

"Figuratively speaking, right?"

Deuce smiled spread through his face as Epel laughed and Sebek and Jack tried to hide their face from you.

"Yeah... Figuratively speaking, of course, Prefect."

The others nodded, their eyes bright with ideas about what to do if the other students tried to do something like that.

As the night settled in, the carved pumpkins flickered warmly, casting playful shadows across the yard. And you felt as if, for just a moment, like you were back home with your small, happy family — gathered around a shared project, their laughter and camaraderie filling the air with something brighter than any candle could provide.

If you were here the next year, then you wanted to do the same thing with them again. And if you aren't... You wanted them to continue that little tradition.

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lialacleaf · 1 year ago

Text

To Care For A Woman

Chapter 3

Simon Riley X Reader

Summary: You join the army as a last-ditch effort to avoid destitution, but when you sustain an injury protecting Lieutenant Ghost and earn yourself a medical discharge, you're stuck all over again. Or maybe not...

Warnings: Tension, Simon wants to care for you, small reader, a little bit spicy but not NSFW, man worrying about a woman's safety, typical cannon violence, deception, I'm sorry it's unedited...

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 chapter4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Reader’s POV

You weren’t sure why Ghost had to drive you out to your new home. He’d been insistent on seeing you there safely rather than letting quite literally anyone else do so. In fact, he’d almost seemed jumpy, stating that Simon wouldn’t like strangers near his home, and that you ought to keep that in mind.

How you were supposed to feel like this was anything but an elaborate plot to murder you and scatter your remains in the woods was unfathomable to you, but Ghost trusted Simon. While you weren’t entirely sure where you stood with the Lieutenant, he’d been the only one to stay back with you and ensure you got out alive.

“When will he be home?” You asked as Ghost focused on the road ahead. He’d given no indication how far the drive would be, and you’d left base about forty minutes ago.

“Tomorrow,” Ghost answered plainly, giving no indication as to what Simon was doing that would have him preoccupied elsewhere.

You let out a soft hum and leaned back in your seat. The humvee would occasionally jostle you, and you hissed at the pain in your knee. The pain medicine was beginning to wear off, but you were too afraid to bring it to Ghost’s attention.

Instead, you closed your eyes, and focused on your next steps. You would need to get some new clothes, having little more than the clothes you’d been sent off in. Maybe if Simon wasn’t too opposed to taking you into town, you could visit the second-hand store.

When you were young, your mother used to take you to pick out patterned tablecloths that had been donated, and would take them home and see you little sundresses.

You recalled a white one with frills that you wore down to the neighbor’s strawberry field, and hadn't lasted the morning before it was an unfortunate mess of red strawberry juice and mud after you had burrowed beneath the strawberry patch and clawed the fruit off the vine like a little, white mouse taking refuge in the cool dirt.

Your mother had called you a little troll for your bad behavior, and made you wear the stained up dress to school anyway.

The Humvee jostled you again, knocking your knee against the vehicle, and you nearly choked on the breath of air you inhaled. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Ghost was anything but gentle, even in his driving.

Simon’s POV

He left you settled on his large, plush couch, your only bag on the floor by the door. The cabin was a single story, so he doubted you’d have much trouble maneuvering around as long as you had your crutches.

He’d given you his cell number, not that you knew it was his. You looked…lost as he walked out the door, and if he didn’t have work to finish for price before his leave, he’d have been tempted to tear the mask off his face and assure you that you wouldn’t have to spend the night alone.

It was still hard for him to comprehend that he was now a married man, even if this had been entirely his plan. It didn’t occur to him until you were seated on his sofa, looking as if you felt out of place in your own home that he didn’t know what he was doing.

He had a rough idea of how he wanted things to be. You’d get to know Simon, a second chance for him to redeem himself in your eyes as someone more patient and gentle, and with time you’d forget about the harsh treatment of Lieutenant Ghost. He didn’t try to fool himself into believing that you could ever love Ghost, but maybe he could convince you to love Simon.

The hour drive back to base didn’t feel real. It was still early, and he needed a cup of tea, something he would have preferred to indulge in alone, but alas…

“How’s married life?” Soap asked with a poorly disguised grin, and Ghost glowered at him from the sink.

“Not now, Johnny,” he warned, rolling his eyes. He hadn’t necessarily wanted Soap to know, but he’d also wanted a second opinion on his decision to offer you a bloody marriage contract.

Johnny had thought he was pulling a joke, until he’d seen it with his own two eyes. Once Simon had rather stiffly explained that he had some very confusing feelings for you that wouldn’t allow him to abandon you, the Scotsman had patted him on the shoulder and told him he was a good man. A bloody mad one too, but that was besides the point.

“Difficult drive with the Mrs.?” He asked, that grin still ever present on his face.

“Something like that.” Not at all like that. More accurately he simply didn’t want to leave you there all alone.

“Cut her some slack, L.T., one minute your her boss, the next your her husband, probably a real doozy for the lass.”

“She doesn’t know,” he said softly as Johnny popped a biscuit in his mouth.

“Doesn’t know what?” He asked over the food in his mouth.

“Doesn’t know she married me.”

The Scottsman choked on his biscuit. “Bloody hell!” He exclaimed, wiping a palm across his face. “Ghost, you’ve gotta be yanking my leg here, mate!”

Ghost shook his head.

“Who does she think she married?” Johnny asked, eyes blown wide.

The Lieutenant shrugged. “Simon Riley.”

Johnny sputtered for a moment and shook his head. “That’s so wrong, Mate. She’s gonna be bloody pissed when she finds out-“

“She’s not gonna find out, Johnny,” Ghost hissed. “She’s gotta forget about all of that. Move on with her life.”

“People don’ just forget that kinda trauma, Simon. She nearly lost her leg,” Johnny said.

Simon sighed, pushing his mask up over his nose so he could sip his tea. “Let me worry about my wife, Johnny.”

It was six in the morning when Simon was finally relieved from his post. He found himself spacing out all too often on the road home, pulled out of his thoughts only when the asphalt turned to gravel.

He liked having his home so secluded. He hoped you liked it too. He’d stopped for groceries shortly after leaving base, planning on having breakfast ready before you woke up. He probably should have paid attention before to how you liked your eggs, but it was too late for that now. He’d just have to guess and go with it.

He pulled up to the cabin, the gravel beneath the car grumbling a greeting to his return as he slowed to a stop.

Simon took a deep breath, hooked his fingers beneath his balaclava, and pulled the mask off before stuffing it in his duffel bag. He unpacked the groceries, storing most of the meat in the deep freezer in his garage before finally entering his house.

He kicked off his work boots at the door, his eyes scanning over the room as if he expected things to be out of place. He paused, however when he noted your small form curled up right where he’d left you, your bag still by the door and your crutches against the wall. You were curled in on yourself, likely trying to keep warm as he’d forgotten to turn on the heat for you.

Shit. He’d left you alone for hours in a cold, unfamiliar place. You were supposed to have slept in the bed. He’d expected you to acclimate yourself over the past twenty-four hours, and instead you had curled up on the couch and succumbed to an uncomfortable sleep.

That wouldn’t do.

He moved to your side as quietly as possible, kneeling next to you on the tan rug. His palm gently brushed the side of your head as he watched you closely. “Y/n?” he murmured, his hand moving to squeeze your shoulder.

You gave no sign that you were awake, and Simon sighed, lifting you up as carefully as he could. Once you were properly tucked into bed, he let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

His shoulders sagged, and with a soft groan he leaned back into the mattress, only just now noticing that he only had one pillow and you were using it. Not that he minded. He needed to take stock of just how unprepared he was for this endeavor.

He switched between staring at the ceiling, and staring at you. You didn’t move much in your sleep, which was a relief. You did, however, let out a soft whine, alerting him to the fact that he’d rested you on the side of your bad knee.

He frowned, internally scolding himself for not thinking of it sooner. It was easy to roll you onto your back, but the action caused you to stir, and Simon stiffened.

It must have been early when you woke, because the room was bathed in a soft glow from the sun barely rising outside the window.

It took you only a moment to realize you no longer dozing on the couch. Your eyes settled on the massive figure beside you, traveling up his waist to his chest and shoulders, before finally finding his face.

Simon, or rather you assumed it was Simon, had ruffled blonde hair, with deep set brown eyes and a strong jaw. Handsome for a soldier. You’d expected him to be plain. You were very wrong.

You sat up slowly, and he watched you like a hawk. You expected him to greet you with something, anything, even if it was just snapping at you for crawling into his bed, not that you remembered doing so. Instead he simply stared at you.

“What time is it?” you asked softly, your voice hoarse from sleep.

“Almost eight,” he murmured, and you blinked in surprise. He had an English accent, very mancunian, just like Ghost’s. The similarity was actually rather uncanny. “You can go back to sleep, or I can make breakfast.”

This felt very strange. You were in a stranger’s house, in their bed and said stranger was offering to make you breakfast as if you weren’t an intruder. You felt tears prick your eyes, suddenly feeling very out of place.

Simon’s brow dipped, a look of panic crossing his face as he tried to figure out what he’d done this time as tears spilled from your eyes.

“Y/n?” He asked, a shaking hand brushing your hair behind your ear.

“I’m sorry, this is just…really overwhelming-“

Simon was quick to pull you against his chest, pulling a soft gasp from you.

“You’re safe, I promise. M’ not gonna let anything happen to ya,” he murmured, those deep brown eyes gazing at you as if he’d loved you for a lifetime.

You blinked in surprise, taken aback by his response, your body slumping as your head dropped onto his heavily muscled shoulder.

“Why…why are you doing this for me?” You whispered.

“You made a sacrifice for one of my mates. You could have gotten killed. He felt responsible, wanted to see you taken care of, and…I wanted to help,” he said gently, stroking the back of your head.

You sniffled softly. “Is Ghost important to you?” You asked, gazing up at him curiously. Simon stiffened, unable to hold your gaze.

“Let’s leave the topic of Ghost alone for now, yeah? Give you some time to recover from what happened.”

You tilted your head at him in confusion, but nodded in agreement. It was his house after all. If he didn’t want to bring up work then so be it.

“You’re in good hands here, I promise.”

Two weeks went by, and you found that it wasn’t as difficult to adjust to Simon’s presence as you expected. He worked on base twice a week when he wasn’t on mission, and spent the rest of his time caring for you.

You couldn’t help but feel like a pet that was being spoiled more than it deserved. He’d bought you one of those nice, memory foam pillows, despite your insistence that you could just sleep on his large, plushy couch.

Truthfully you were a little frightened at the idea of sharing his bed, but he kept a respectful distance away from you, and there wasn’t even the mention of sexual expectations.

He slept on his back, or facing the door, something you assumed was an ingrained behavior.

He let you sleep in the mornings, but once you’d had breakfast he was practically dragging you out of the cabin to take a walk with your crutches, encouraging you not to stay in bed all day.

You supposed it was a good thing, as you’d likely become depressed if left to your own devices. He took you to town only once to find some new clothes, and gave you a very displeased look when you tried to insist on the thrift shop rather than the department store he pulled the truck up to.

“No wife of mine is walking around in a stranger’s hand-me-downs”

With that, he’d helped you inside and gotten you an array of loose pants and comfortable tops to spend your recovery in.

He was certainly committed to his promise of taking care of you.

He didn’t talk much, and you still found that a little unsettling, but his lack of words was matched by his aptitude for actions, making sure you didn’t so much as lift a finger unless you adamantly wanted to.

You hadn’t told your parents about the arrangement, and had been worrying just how you were going to go about keeping the situation on the down low. They’d call eventually, and you had to think of something to keep them from going into a panic.

You watched Simon from the corner of your eye as he started the truck, having helped you into your seat and gotten you buckled moments ago.

You weren’t sure if he was anxious about your check up, or if he was simply displeased at the thought of having you back on base. He seemed to dislike the idea very much if his hesitancy to bring you back to Dr. Radcliffe was anything to go by, but the doctor had insisted on it as he was the one to handle your knee surgery to begin with.

“Simon?” You called as the gravel road disappeared and gave way to paved asphalt. “Do you think Ghost will be available today? I never got to thank him for everything,” you said softly.

Simon tensed, and you couldn’t help but frown a little. “I’ll ask him,” he assured you, taking your hand in his and giving it a light squeeze.

A smile lit up your face, the first one he’d seen since the ordeal at the warehouse, and his heart aches for it. “Thank you, Simon.”

He nodded in response, but his stomach was in knots. He didn’t deserve your thanks. Not as Ghost, and not as Simon. Maybe someday, when you had forgotten all about what had happened to you, and lived a carefree life. Maybe then he could deserve it.

“I’ll be honest, I’m not entirely pleased with the results so far,” Dr. Radcliffe said as he looked over your x-rays.

“What does that mean?” Simon asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Is it bad?” You asked as you sat on the paper covered table.

“It means unless we get you set up with a physical therapist you’ll be on those crutches for the rest of your life.” The doctor explained.

Your eyes widened, and you were about to exclaim that you couldn’t possibly afford that when Simon cut in.

“What are her chances with the physical therapy?” He asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Slim, but better. Might have a limp, but definitely more mobility.” Radcliffe assured him.

“I can’t afford Physical Therapy,” you cut in, and the two men glanced down at you.

“Yes, we can,” Simon said gently, brushing your hair behind your ear. You simply gaped at him in astonishment. PT was expensive, especially for such an involved injury. You couldn’t expect him to pay for that, but the warning glance he sent your way said that the two of you would not be discussing it now.

“I’ll send out a recommendation for the practitioner closest to you.” Radcliffe said. “However I’d still like to see you back here a month from now.” You nodded, and Simon ‘tisked’ in response.

Thanks, doc,” you said, offering him a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Simon left you to your lunch in the mess hall with the excuse that he had some paperwork to do, and you didn’t question him once he set a burger in front of you. He was quickly finding that a good meal was all he needed to keep you in a good mood.

He felt ridiculous, slipping into his office and shucking off his civilian clothes in exchange for his uniform and mask, before turning around and thundering back to the mess hall.

He didn’t plan on this double-life mess, but he was going to put an end to it. His eyes landed on your little form happily munching away on your lunch, and he let out a deep sigh, clearing his throat as he approached you.

“Ghost?” You looked up in surprise, wiping the condiments off the corner of your mouth on a napkin. He always saw you use your shirt sleeve, and he felt a swell of pride that you liked the little green sweater he’d gotten you enough to preserve its newness.

“Simon said you wanted to see me?” He asked gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest.

You nodded vigorously. “I wanted to thank you for your help. I don’t know what I would have done otherwise-“

“This is what you called me down here for?” He asked, and your face fell. He felt the absence of your smile as an ache in his chest.

“I…I just thought…you’d want to know that I’m safe,” you said.

Simon felt his heart swell at the words. It was a relief to hear you say it, and it made what he was about to do even harder.

“One less thing to worry about then,” he stated grumpily, turning on his heel with a roll of his eyes and leaving you to gape at his back.

He felt like a kid in a play, switching costumes depending on his role in the moment. Price raised a brow when Simon passed his door four separate times in two different outfits.

He could have sworn he heard Johnny mutter “you don’t want to know.” To his captain. They were going to give him hell for this.

He was nearing the mess hall when his phone chimed the very specific sound he’d set for you, and was quick to open his messages.

I want to go home.

He wasn’t sure if he should be glad you viewed the cabin as home, or worried about the damage control he was going to have to do.

He entered the mess hall, preparing himself for whatever state of disarray you’d be in, only you weren’t there. His head whipped around the room, looking for any sight of you, but you had seemingly vanished.

Shit.

Where are you?

He rushed out of the mess hall, looking for any sign of your presence. He didn’t see your crutches, so he could only assume you’d left on your own.

I’m in the truck.

He let out a breath of relief, pulling the keys from his pocket. He probably would have put the whole base on lockdown if you hadn’t replied.

He made quick strides to the parking lot, opening the door to the driver's seat and hauling himself in as quickly as possible.

“Everything alright?” He knew it wasn’t, but it felt polite to ask anyway.

“M’ fine,” you mumbled, leaning your head against the door.

Simon bit his lip as he watched you wilt. You looked as if the life had been sapped out of you. Maybe he’d been too harsh.

“Y/n?” He called, placing a hand on your shoulder. You didn’t acknowledge it and he sighed. “Let’s go home,” he mumbled.

You were silent the entire drive back, and Simon was genuinely starting to question if he’d broken you. You had just gotten some rather bleak news.

“We could stop at that bakery in town,” he offered, glancing at you to gauge your reaction.

“I’m not really in the mood.”

Simon pursed his lips, his brow ticking slightly. He was trying to make things better, why were you fighting against him? Ghost was supposed to be the villain here, not him.

Your mood only seemed to worsen as the day went on, and Simon couldn’t wrap his head around it. At least until you snapped.

“Can I please just do one thing for myself!”

He’d just wanted to take up your dinner, shooing you out of the kitchen so he could do so when you decided you’d had enough.

“You do everything for me. I’m not a child, I’m a grown woman! For fuck’s sake it’s like I’m a prisoner or something!”

Your tirade was followed by a pathetic hobble down the hallway and slam of the bathroom door. He was fairly certain he heard muffled sobs before the tub faucet was turned on to drown them out.

Simon crossed his arms and leaned against the kitchen counter with a frown. You weren’t just upset about Ghost, he realized. You were upset about your leg, about the feeling of losing your autonomy, and his dismissal of you in the mess hall had been the proverbial cherry on top.

You had said you felt safe, but what you really felt was stifled.

He let out a deep sigh, running his hands through his hair. It seemed while keeping you in bubble wrap suited him just fine, it was slowly eating away at you.

This wasn’t what he had wanted for you. He’d wanted you to be able to do things that made you happy, not be stuck doing nothing at all.

You may have been small, and fragile compared to Ghost, but you had still been a soldier, and it was something you took pride in. He hadn’t meant for you to lose purpose, but if you were really going to be happy here, he needed to help you find a new one.

You felt terrible. You shouldn’t have snapped at Simon. You should have just calmly explained that you needed him to give you some space, but after Ghost had reminded you just how useless, how much of a burden he saw you as, it had triggered the rage that had been building in you for a while now.

None of this was fair. You had done your job well, despite being at a higher risk, you’d put the well being of your teammates above yourself to the very end, and your mind was still just as sharp.

Despite all this, it seemed both Ghost and Simon thought you were useless. The difference was Simon didn’t seem to tack worthless onto the list of things you were as well.

You didn’t feel right sleeping in his bed that night, or taking advantage of any of the kindnesses he’d given you for that matter. You were tempted to go sleep outside but it was freezing. Instead you curled up under a blanket with one of Simon’s chess books and read until you fell asleep.

At some point you heard him get up and put on a kettle for tea, before venturing out through the back door. You pretended to still be asleep if only to avoid the impending confrontation.

You eventually heard the telltale sound of a saw in his work shed, and supposed the coast was clear to make a cup of tea.

You went back to reading your book, not sure what else to do, until Simon’s footsteps sounded on the back porch, followed by the door opening. You tried not to stiffen when he stopped right in front of you. Maybe he’d been out there making the coffin he was going to bury you in for being an ungrateful little-

“Could use a hand if you’re not busy.”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his. “With what?” You asked skeptically.

He held out a hand to you, a gentle smile spreading on his face. “You’ll see.”

He walked slowly, acting as a crutch so you wouldn’t need to get them out of the kitchen. He led you to a portion of the yard that had been sectioned off with wooden planks. There was a chair seated beside it, along with a small shovel and a rake.

“What’s this?” You asked as he helped lower you into your seat.

“Garden box. Gonna start growing stuff,” he explained. “Fresh tea is good for you, especially in the colder months.”

He pulled a pair of gloves on and handed you a slightly smaller pair, along with the handheld shovel. “You can start pullin’ dirt out of those bags and droppin’ it in here,” ge explained.

“Wouldn’t this go faster if you just dumped these in yourself?” You asked as he picked up the rake.

Simon shook his head. “You could use some fresh air, and you might as well accomplish somethin’ instead of sittin’ like a bump on a log.”

You could tell he was excited about his little task by the way his accent got thicker, and you had to admit it was a little cute.

“Fair enough,” you murmured, shoveling dirt into the box for him to spread out with the rake. It was a little mindless, but the sound of the birds was nice, and the sun slowly rising in the sky casted a warm glow on your face.

Once you’d emptied two bags of dirt Simon went inside to grab you both a bottle of water before planting the seeds. He handed you the bottle, and a little packet of electrolyte mix, but he didn’t mix it for you, and instead went about opening the little seed packets after having downed his own water.

You had to admit that Simon was quite the sight in that tight gray shirt with a shovel in his hands. You bet he looked even better with a rifle.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” you murmured as he passed you a small packet of seeds. Simon paused, looking up at you in surprise, before nodding at you.

“I…I’m sorry that I wasn’t paying attention before,” he began, taking a step towards you and cupping your cheek with his large hand. “I see you now,” he murmured softly, bending down to place a kiss on your forehead.

You let out a sigh of relief, leaning against him as your arms wrapped around his middle. “Thank you, Simon,” you whispered as he returned your embrace.

AN: wow this ended up being long~ Lots of drama to come!!!

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#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader

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the-moon-files · 5 months ago

Note

Wait, quick idea! Twilight looks like the only hylian in his village because everyone else has round ears, so what if he wasn’t as surprised as the others to see their human companion so resilient, but still fairly impressed because of the fact that most if not all people in his village don’t put themselves in as drastic situations as the reader? Or is this just humans from our world?

get out of my head lmao /lh - you, me, and wayfayrr are actually the same person on diff accounts LMAO

im of the belief that (blame @wayfayrr, my beloved) that he knows of humans bc of some in his village but yeah, just not the type of human in drastic situations

(ALSO they wrote me a fun, long, glorious, male reader human space orc au fic for winning their raffle a bit ago, and it brings up their headcanon abt this and i Adore It actually, check it out here pls if u wanna know🤲)

(also if u see this wayfayrr, sorry for the ping, also should i be calling u moss? or wayfayrr?? idk which, i hope thats even ok to ask 😭 i assumed u would call my ass Moon)

Moon: Male-Masc Reader (he/him)

Orbit: short headcanons-ish, rambling mostly

Stars: Twilight Princess Link (Twi/Twilight), mentions of other Links

Comets & Meteors: CWs: none known, & TWs: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

to reiterate what i said up there, in case u skipped it for the bullet points,

i like the headcanon he knows humans, knows some of their quirks, and how they were the first ppl the other hylian villagers called on to help stuck cows or downed wagons, lots of heavy lifting stuff

but he really hasnt seen the extent of real humans, bc the humans who were in Ordon, well, they lived in hylian society,

why would they need the adrenaline to lift a car when hylians have set up whole tools and systems in all their towns to help lift just a full bucket of water out of the well??

not to mention, i think all the humans in his village were older adults? like at least not the age theyd be doing things like parkour or going to any trampoline parks type of age,

id imagine its more like stories talked about amongst hylians how hard humans can go, and even the humans themselves talked abt things like,

“well compared to u hylians, we have stomachs made of molten lava to you guys really, but we never have to use it, bc u know hylian food works just fine”

when Twi asked they would say stuff like that, but as soon as he saw ur human ass just picking wildflowers and berries off the side of the road to snack on? even random grasses/vines at some point (kudzu)?? easily eating Wild’s Dubious Food that's DEFINITELY got monster parts in it???! gnawing on the bone of a cucco and it just breaks??!!! and you look surprised too, thank fuck finally a normal reaction from u- oh my goddesses u were just curious (damn the elders were right abt human curiosity too) **and are now sucking out the marrow and eating the bone-!!!!!!!!!!!!

Twilight’s perspective of you is actually the equivalent of like, reading stories about vampires all ur life, then this new friend you made starts to get allergic to garlic, crave blood, has crazy strength and advanced senses, etc

and he’s just watching those honest-to-Hylia human mythological feats play out in real time in front of him, like he’s the only self-aware character in the story that immediately clocks the really obvious vampire as a vampire lmao

is the first to either 1. start choking on his laugh as he theoretically knows ur about to jump on the back of a lynel/hinox to ride it around and watch as the others come to the same conclusion OR 2. try to Stop you from jumping on said big monster in an attempt to ride it around bc he gets used to ur human BS quicker than the others and can see it coming a mile away now lol

very much so this meme:

(ur welcome i made it myself <3)

anyway id love to rant abt this dynamic

abt both Twi’s shock at you eating peppers like a god has come down from the sky to prove their immortality,

but also poor rancher esstientally humansitting you too lmao

the Chain/Time/Wars absolutely put him down as the resident human expert like: “ok he just drank like, 5? No- Four stop him from drinking more at least- (dual sighs). okay, 6 stamina potions, will that kill him??”

Twilight, saviour of Hyrule, of the Twili, Link from Twilight Princess himself,

has to keep a record book of all the new shit he’s heard/learned about humans in Ordon, what he has actively learned abt ur ass just fucking around and finding out, and the few bread crumbs of information u give him abt ur species

(that rlly just come off as kind of cryptid statements abt u/humanity, or don't apply in this scenario bc ur only comparison is Earth Rules, which honestly scare every single fucking one of them in the same way as walking on Ganon’s lawn or something, like straight up view ur home planet as enemy territory, the Amazon jungle, the Hyrule wilds if you will-)

Twilight also gets involuntarily volunteered for human-sitting duty too

tbh the only person Not allowed on human-sitting duty, when u guys go new areas esp, is Wild/Hyrule

you’d tell him you wanna get inside the guardian robot to operate it and ride it around and he’d probably be in shock you even fathomed something like that, yet also now EXTREMELY intrigued to watch it play out

(they’re both more of a “u wanna jump off a cliff?? that's actually crazy, wait for me please.” he seems to think he can somehow protect you if he joins you? its worked sometimes to be fair to him ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯ just not really conveniently when the rest of the Chain are around lmao)

☆

i live btw, ive been writing/updating fics along with life updates (moving states/new job/online class) so a few asks will hopefully be answered over here in the next 2ish weeks

no promises, my life is kinda girlbossing at the moment too close to the sun and i am Nervous abt disappointing u guys

i already feel like im disappointing my other blog bc i haven't posted in forever bc im writing a fic instead of asks during any free time i dedicate to writing for it so :/

pls excuse my super slowness like a package ur waiting for in the mail or smth type of slow

AGAIN thanks for the ask!! i hope this was at least entertaining to read as some addon to what u said, you guys have gotta check out some of wayfayrr’s stuff if ur into this, bc they're the only other place i can think of that's talked abt humans not just being the same as hylians

have a great week!!

Peace out hugs and chaos,

🌙

#male reader #link x reader #lu x reader #linked universe x reader #linked universe reader #lu x male reader #loz link x reader #linked universe male reader #moon asks #lu x masc reader #lu guide reader #lu humans are space orcs au #lu humans are Not hylians au

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puffcap-factory · 7 months ago

Text

Of Vines and Grapes (Diluc x Reader)

Diluc x fem!reader; fluff, a bit of hurt/comfort, established relationship (marriage), heartwarming. Diluc is a gentle sunlight.

You had small arguments this past few days with Diluc, and since he was busy with work and hadn’t got the time to sort it out, you planned on giving a little gift for him to lift his mood.

Kaeya appeared as a cameo btw

Words: 2.6k

Notes:

It’s been a while! The draft of this fic had been resting since like a week ago, but yesterday I decided to continue it, only to realize that April 30th would be his birthday lol. And the funny thing is his birthday art somehow falls perfectly to the setting of this story purely by coincidence xD

Anyways, enjoy the story! :D

•~•~•~•

You twirled your cup with one hand, the sweet aroma of grape juice filling your senses as your eyes shone towards the purple liquid. You could tell the freshness and the sweet scent emanating from your glass, a freshly handpicked grape juice.

“No wonder Diluc dotes on you so much, huh…”

You looked up at Kaeya, who was sitting casually in front of you, one hand supporting his chin as he smiled at you.

“Well, it’s just pure coincidence that I prefer grape juice rather than wine.”

“That’s not my point…,” he exhaled amusedly. “How unfortunate that you miss out on the fun in wine tasting, though.”

You were never a fan of wine in the first place, as you had always preferred something sweeter – like fruit juice. Although Kaeya sometimes teased you about your childish preferences, you were really keen on these drinks.

This wasn't the reason you initially grew close to Diluc, though. However, upon discovering your likings towards grape juice, he granted you the liberty to manage your own section of the vineyard, specifically cultivated for grape juice rather than wine. You took the opportunity to try experimenting with different soils and fertilizers – much to your own curiosity, hoping to yield a slightly different taste with each attempt.

And now, one of the freshly picked grapes rested in your hand—sweet, velvety, with a hint of sourness, just as how you liked it.

“Mm, I'm sure I'm not missing out on anything,” you smiled as you stood up from your seat. Kaeya shrugged playfully in response.

You had been working as a librarian alongside Lisa in the Favonius Library, although you were not a member of the Knights of Favonius yourself. Though your works – well, practically circulating among them. Just like this evening, you were seated in Angel's Share, as Kaeya had requested some documents from you.

Business matters aside, you lingered a bit longer, planning to craft your own drink from the new batch of grapes you had brought to the tavern, intending it as a gift for your beloved.

You went up to the counter, where Charles had allowed you to enter. Kaeya followed you and sat across you on the counter seat.

“So, how have things been lately?” Kaeya mused, observing as you gathered your mixtures.

You sighed at his question, shifting your gaze from Kaeya to the table. Truth be told, it had been somewhat tense these past few days. Diluc had been occupied with his immense work, and you two did have some petty arguments – mainly fueled from the work stress. While most of them ended with either of you giving up on the argument, you hadn’t had a proper talk with him.

“Well, it’s... alright, I suppose,” you attempted to downplay it.

Kaeya raised an eyebrow, sensing your change in demeanor. “Your expression suggests otherwise.”

Ah, right, he was good at reading people.

“…I mean, he’s pretty busy lately, and we had few disagreements in these past few days, so…,” you reluctantly admitted, lowering your voice as you added fresh mint leaves into the glass as a finishing touch. “That’s why I’m preparing this drink for him as a small gift. There’s a new batch of freshly picked grapes this morning. I hope he’ll like it.”

You then handed the mixture of drink you had mixed to him – a fizzy, sparkling grape juice. “Try.”

Kaeya’s gaze lingered on your face for a moment, before taking the glass and took a sip of it. A playful smile appeared on his face as he set the glass down.

“Too sweet for my liking.”

You shot him a sulking glare, which he returned with a grin.

“…But, I’m sure he’ll love it,” he reassured, his tone lower than usual. “He can be a bit of a pain in the ass at times, I know, but he’ll definitely appreciate your effort. I know his taste.” He winked playfully at you.

You let out a small laugh at him. “Okay, I’ll believe you this time, Kaeya.”

•~•~•~•

You made your way back, carrying a selection of ingredients from Angel's Share, having obtained Charles' permission beforehand. Upon entering the manor, Adelinde greeted you with a warm smile.

“Welcome back, my lady,” she said warmly, helping you with some of the items you had brought. “Oh, and what’s this?”

“Some ingredients for a grape juice mix,” you explained, removing your jacket and hanging it on the rack. “Diluc’s been pretty occupied lately, so I thought making him a drink might give him a little boost.” You grinned sheepishly.

“How thoughtful of you,” Adelinde smiled, though her expression faltered momentarily. “…Unfortunately, the young master will be home pretty late today, as far as I know.”

“Oh,” you replied, unsurprised. It wasn’t uncommon for him to return home late or become absorbed in his work until the late hours in his study. “That’s alright, I’ll just prepare it when he’s back.”

“Of course, please feel free to come to the kitchen anytime,” Adelinde bowed before excusing herself. After dinner, you made your way up to your shared bedroom.

As you showered, your mind drifted back to the events of the past few days. The arguments you had few days ago was pretty trivial, honestly, with the recent one being two days back. Yet, as you attempted to assert your point, Diluc’s cold dismissal of your concerns stung. The tension that followed had left you feeling upset, but you chose to let it go rather than push the issue further.

Yesterday, you didn’t have the chance to talk through about it as the interactions were limited to brief exchanges of good mornings and goodbyes, leaving the unresolved tension to linger. By the time he returned home, you were already fast asleep.

Though you were no longer upset now, you wanted to clear the tension between you and him. Hence, you had prepared a small surprise for him today: your original crafted grape juice drink. With the start of the grape harvest season yesterday, you wanted him to try the grapes that you had tended yourself.

Settling comfortably onto the bed, you took out a book you had been reading, waiting for Diluc's return. Around 11 pm, you heard footsteps approaching from the hallway. The bedroom door creaked open as Diluc entered.

"I'm back."

"Welcome home," you replied, remaining seated on the bed as he went changing clothes near the closet and then heading to the bathroom.

"I'll be continuing my work in the study after this. It might get late, so you can go ahead and sleep," he informed you before disappearing into the bathroom for a shower.

As expected, he still had work to attend to. Seizing the opportunity, you swiftly made your way to the kitchen to prepare the drink. It didn’t take much time as you had prepared it previously at Angel’s Share.

You went back up to his study, placing the drink on the side table near his work area carefully, before another idea struck you. Instead of interrupting him mid-work, why not leave a note for him to read anytime?

Grabbing a piece of paper, you quickly penned a brief message:

“Here’s a drink for you, made with freshly picked grapes! I know you have been busy lately, and I’m sorry about the day before. Hope this can get you a little boost for your work :) Love, y/n”

Neatly folding the paper, you placed it beside the glass before slipping out of the room. Walking on the hallway, you glanced downstairs from the second floor and saw Diluc – already out of the shower, talking with Adelinde. Good, he didn’t seem to notice your presence in the study. With a sense of relief, you returned to the shared room to continue reading your book, before falling asleep not long after.

•~•~•~•

The next morning, you stirred awake to the gentle sunlight filtering through the curtains, warming your face. With a soft groan, you shifted toward Diluc's side of the bed, only to find it empty. Your heart sank momentarily, assuming he had already left for work, but then you heard the sound of him emerging from the bathroom. Moments later, Diluc appeared, his eyes immediately finding yours as he noticed you had awoken up. He approached the edge of your side of the bed and sat on the side.

“Good morning,” he greeted you with a tender smile, settling beside you.

“Morning,” you replied, still groggy from sleep. “Did you even get any sleep?”

“I did. Don’t worry, love.”

Love. The word, spoken after a period of tension, reassured you, melting away the lingering tension. It seemed he had read your message, after all.

His hand reached out to caress your head, and you leaned into his gentle gesture, a smile gracing your lips. His smile was tender and warm like the sun, a sight you had missed dearly.

Not long after, he withdrew his hand and spoke softly. “I wanted to apologize for the previous day. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

“Oh, um... I'm sorry too, Diluc. I let my frustration get the best of me.”

“But that doesn't excuse my behavior. I wanted to talk to you yesterday, but my work wasn't finished, and I thought it was already late night. I made you wait... I'm sorry,” he confessed, his expression weighted with guilt.

Diluc was never an expressive person, though he had opened a lot more since you two became a couple. By nature, he was private, and a rather prideful man, too – but you knew his intentions were always genuine. Sometimes, in moments of disagreement, patience was key; he, too, was striving to find common ground. After all, that was what partners should do, and despite his reserved nature, your love for him remained unchanged.

You took a moment to see his face from the side, before you reached out to cup his cheek gently, meeting his eyes with understanding. “Oh, Diluc, it's alright, love.”

His eyes closed briefly, feeling the warmth of your touch. With the sunlight casting a golden glow on his figure, highlighting the contours of his face and the soft strands of his still untied velvet hair, you couldn't help but marvel at his beauty.

Without realizing, you found yourself momentarily speechless, mouth slightly agape, as you admired the scene before you. Diluc noticed your reverie and raised his eyebrows in confusion. “Hm?” he inquired, his expression puzzled.

“Oh—” you chuckled shyly, realizing you had been caught in a moment of awe, “you’re just too beautiful.”

He was a bit taken aback by the sudden compliment and let out a low chuckle. He then shifted slowly to join you on the bed, resting behind you.

“I love you.”

He murmured as he hugged you from behind, his head nuzzling behind your neck.

A warmth spread through your body as his breath tickled your skin. Like the comforting rays of the sun during the day, his displays of affection always had a way of melting your heart, even after all this time.

“I love you too, Diluc,” you whispered softly, gently holding onto his arm and closing your eyes, savoring the moment.

Before long, Diluc, still nestled behind you, spoke up. “The fruit juice was really delicious. I liked it very much. Thank you.”

“Oh, I'm glad you enjoyed it. We can make more together,” you suggested. “…if you're free today, of course.”

“I’m free throughout the day. I've delegated the work to Elzer and the others.”

“Really?” You turned to face him in surprise. It had been weeks since you spent the day together, and you practically couldn’t hide your excitement anymore. Diluc had known that it was a day off for you today, and maybe he had planned this all along.

He nodded, returning your excitement with a smile of his own. “It's a beautiful day. We can pick some grapes if you'd like.”

“Absolutely! And we could have a picnic outside too!”

“Sounds wonderful,” Diluc chuckled, amused by your sudden burst of enthusiasm. “Let’s have breakfast outside, then.”

•~•~•~•

Under the shade of a tree, the picnic sheet was laid out, sunlight warming your feet near the section of the vineyard you tended. A basket overflowed with freshly picked grapes was placed on the mat. Beside it, your much-loved grape-jam pie which Adelinde had brought – apparently it was requested by Diluc yesterday night, according to Adelinde herself – rested atop a small foldable table, accompanied by cups of tea.

You plucked a grape and tasted its sweetness. “Sweet and fresh, just perfect! But this one…” You fed Diluc another grape. “A bit more sour, isn’t it? I had used another fertilizer for this one.”

“Mhm,” Diluc agreed, his gaze filled with adoration as he accepted the grape from your hand.

“Perhaps the sour ones would be better suited for a different type of drink,” you mused as you thought to yourself.

“I’d happily try any creations you come up with,” Diluc remarked as he shifted to the back, leaning back comfortably against the tree trunk, inviting you to rest your head in his lap. “Come here, love.”

You beamed a smile at him before settling onto his lap, his hand moved to cup your cheeks, caressing it gently.

“Hmm, I could easily fall asleep like this…”

“Then maybe you should,” he said, his tone soft and reassuring. “You don’t get many chances to sleep peacefully outside.”

“But you’ve slept less than me for sure, you should rest too, you know?”

He met your gaze with a gentle smile. “I will, I will.”

As the wind whispered through the leaves and Diluc’s caress lulled you into a drowsy state, you closed your eyes. Just for five minutes, just five–

–Huh.

You opened your eyes, only to realize that you had indeed fallen asleep. It hadn’t seemed too long, though, but you were not sure. You carefully gazed upwards, only to find Diluc sleeping peacefully, his breathing steady as he slept against the tree.

Smiling at the serene sight, you decided to stay still, not wanting to disturb his peaceful slumber. Your gaze drifted to the trees and skies above, and before you knew it, you shifted your head to the side, inadvertently waking Diluc up. He was always a light sleeper, wasn’t he?

Stretching his body with a yawn, Diluc checked his wristwatch. "One hour. That was a nice nap."

"An hour??" You sat up, surprised by the length of your unintended rest, while Diluc smiled lazily.

You wanted him to rest more, but spending the entire day sleeping outside wasn't exactly what you had in mind.

“I had a nice nap, thanks to you.”

"Anytime for you," you replied happily, moving to sit next to him and facing him. A gentle breeze played around you, and you reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear. Diluc tenderly took your hand and pressed a kiss to it, earning a shy smile from you before his hand moved to gently cup your chin, locking eyes with you.

You recognized the familiar longing in his gaze and leaned in, closing the gap between you until your lips met in a tender, blissful kiss.

“I’d love to get more of these from you from time to time,” he murmured softly against your lips.

“The picnic or the kiss?” You teased, a chuckle escaping your lips.

“Both.”

“Maybe you should try delegating your works more,” you joked.

“Well, that’s been on my mind, for sure,” Diluc replied, his tone thoughtful.

You didn’t expect him to take your joke seriously and frantically explained that he didn't have to do that.

But Diluc laughed tenderly, knowing that the time you spent together was far too precious to skip.

#diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x fem!reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact fanfic #genshin fanfic #diluc x reader fluff #genshin fluff #diluc x you #diluc x y/n

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huramuna · 11 months ago

Text

growing on you - oneshot.

modern aemond x (ex) girlfriend reader

content: smut (specifics under the cut), afab reader, angst, unhealthy coping mechanisms, descriptions of depression and its effect on the body, probably an unhealthy relationship, aemond being an idiot, probably ooc aemond, reader not described, no use of y/n, targtowers seek therapy: the story, fluff at the end bc hehe

work is 18+, minors do not interact or you shall be smited.

word count: 7.4k (oops)

a/n: i've had this one in the drafts for a while. tweaked to be a fun 'lil angsty end of year holiday fic. as is my motto: fuck it we ball. a/n 2: i pivoted from a third person pov fic to a second person pov fic 3/4 through writing this using the find and replace tool, so if there are grammar errors, i apologize! also my first time doing second person pov, weehee.

monsters - all time low ft. blackbear • why do i - set it off ft. hatsune miku

warnings: p in v, creampie, cockwarming, slightly tipsy sex

Everything in your life was enveloped by him. your clothes smelled like him, small strands of his hair were woven into every nook and cranny of your apartment together, his fitness regime protein powder and ketogenic supplements were littered in your kitchen cabinets.

You couldn’t get rid of him, not even if you tried. Aemond was all you'd ever known— you have known one another since the age of seven, and have been in a relationship since fourteen. You were both now twenty-six. Twelve years you’ve been together romantically (longer, even, but you were both too stubborn to admit it) and nineteen years you’ve been in each other's lives in some capacity or another.

You’ve been involved together longer than you’ve not known each other. You hardly knew who you were without Aemond— a thought that scared you deeply.

It’s been two weeks since he moved out, only temporarily he’d said. He needed space. He would still pay his share of the rent and you didn’t need to worry about that.

But what about everything else? What about him warming you at night? Comforting you when you had nightmares? What about his items in the fridge, surely you’d spoil if he didn’t use them soon. What about Vhagar? Their— no, his geriatric cat that he took with him to God knows where— she must be terrified, surely.

Was he giving Vhagar her medicine before bed? Of course he was— he was the more responsible one anyway.

You paced back and forth until the soles of your feet ached and then some. Knowing Aemond for so long, you had intimate knowledge on everything about him, you were woven into each other's DNA like vines on a trellis, growing and expanding until you swallowed all of the other plants whole.

That is what happened, wasn’t it? You grew too large, too comfortable and became stagnant. You weren't unaware of his rising workload at his firm, but he had always been a workaholic— throughout their teenage years, through college and grad school. It never slowed him down so you didn’t understand the change in behavior.

Aemond was closed off. He always was a bit emotionally stunted due to his upbringing or lack thereof from his father and everything that happened surrounding his eye, but he had a soft side for you, always for you. You could retrace every part of him perfectly from memory, always could make him laugh, could comfort him when he recused himself, and the rare times he did cry, you were there.

But the last few months there was a shift— a change in him. Where he had been hard to open before, like a rusty hinge just requiring some oil, he was now padlocked, ironclad and impenetrable. Attempts to talk were shrugged off, ignored or diverted.

“Please, just talk to me, Aemond,” you said one night as you sat on the couch. You were watching your collective favorite show and he wasn’t even commenting on it like he usually did, he was silent and deadpanned. “I don’t understand what’s wrong if you don’t talk about it.”

“There's nothing wrong, therefore, nothing to talk about. I’m just tired from work,” he responded gruffly. “Stop whining.”

His tone was clipped and harsh, sending a wave of hurt trickling through your body. you were overly emotional, where he was under emotional— usually, you balanced each other out and struck a good middle ground, but in times like these, during fights, things would get explosive.

The tears started right away, your little sniffling cries stifled by a hand over your mouth. You turned away, wrapping yourself in the blanket.

“Seriously?” he growled, “I didn’t even say anything and you’re fucking crying again.”

“I d-don’t appreciate your tone, Aemond— you’re being mean,” you sniffed, wiping away tears that were soon just replaced by new ones. “Please, don’t be mean to me.” you were always soft hearted, and it was one of the things Aemond loved about you— or he had loved at one point.

“I’m not being mean,” he pinched his brow, “you’re overreacting and I do not have the capacity to deal with your antics anymore.”

Of course, your mind hit the panic button. ‘Anymore’ meaning that he didn’t want to deal with you at all, ever. The tears increased and you recused yourself further into a ball.

“Fucking hell.” he cursed, getting up from the couch and stomping outside to the balcony, lighting up a cigarette. He was out there for about an hour— you had cried yourself to sleep.

It was many situations like that for weeks that finally just… broke him.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said one day, slamming his keys down on the kitchen table, “I seriously cannot deal with your childish shit anymore— I’m working my ass off at the firm, actually bringing in money and I still have to come home and tend to you. you’re twenty-six, grow up and stop crying at every little thing. It’s fucking infuriating.”

“You know I can’t control that part of me!” you screamed back, your temper rising immediately to match his. The words flowing out of your mouth didn’t feel like yours, but some sort of defensive mechanism. “You can’t do this anymore? You’re not doing anything Aemond, except pushing me away. God, you haven’t even touched me in weeks.”

“Oh, so this is about sex?” he countered, getting closer to you, nostrils flaring. “You’re mad because I won’t fuck you? Are you that desperate?”

That one stung, to be sure. Aemond had been your first and only— you only ever knew him, only ever had him. “No, not just sex,” you murmured, “you haven’t even… just touched me normally. No hugs, no little caresses, nothing— it's as if I’m an aversion to you.”

He backed up from you, “Maybe we’re just too close,” he admitted, “We’ve been together too long. It's not fun anymore, it’s not new— it’s the same old, same old, going through the motions for release, not because I actually like it.”

“I don’t understand.” you said, your voice sounding disconnected from your body. The tips of your fingers felt numb, the numbness spreading through your body, your heart pounding in your chest as if it wanted to escape.

“I need space. I need to think about this.”

“This?”

“Us. I need to think about us and if this is something I really want,” he paused, “You’re… too much and not enough right now.”

“Wh— Aemond, please,” you whispered, your voice broken, “What can I do? I’ll… I’ll change, I won’t cry or whine anymore— please.”

He stared at you, his prosthetic eye unmoving while his remaining one bored into you, “I will think about it.”

“What… does this mean?”

“We are taking a break, alright? I’ll have my essentials out and I’m going to stay with Aegon.”

“Please— don’t go. I need you.”

That was the end of that conversation. That was the last time you spoke, two weeks ago. You expected him to text you at some point, to check in on you, to maybe try to talk things out.

Nothing. There's been nothing. Radio silence.

You felt isolated— you had no family, as your parents were estranged from you. you couldn’t go to Aemond’s family, as close as you were to them all, it just simply wasn’t an option.

You didn’t have friends. All you knew was Aemond.

It was early in the evening and you were in a deep pit of self-loathing. You decided to text him.

You swallowed thickly— the green meant he either turned off his phone or blocked you. You hoped that it wasn’t the latter.

The next few weeks were a blur. You felt like you were barely living, merely going through the motions to stay alive— not that you really were.

You woke up, went to work, came home, scrounged up food and then went to sleep. Rinse and repeat.

Weeks become months of your monotony, and no word from Aemond. He still had half of his stuff left in the apartment, you felt like you could barely breathe. At every turn there was something to remind you of him.

You’d lived in this apartment together for four years, the evidence of your relationship etched into the very walls. It was like the space was closing in on you and you couldn’t catch your breath, barely keeping your head above water.

You had to move out— you had to get away.

You managed to find a place, a cheap studio above a coffee shop downtown. The landlord was an old lady who was sympathetic to your situation and agreed to let you take the space quickly.

There was still the matter of your and Aemond’s current apartment— or, rather, it was just Aemond’s now.

Saving yourself the embarrassment of seeing if you were still blocked, you called Aegon. He was a better messenger than none.

“Hey, Egg,” you said, sitting on the couch. you bounced your knee up and down, biting at the skin of your lip. You and Aegon were amicable, not necessarily as close as you and Aemond, but you grew up together. Aegon ran in different social circles than you and you were somewhat polar opposites so you never really stuck— you did have your phases of friendship, though– which pissed Aemond off to no end. “Um, I don’t know if this is the right way to go about things but, do you mind relaying a message to Aemond for me?”

“Yeah, ‘spose I could. What’s up?” Aegon replied, his tone nonchalant like usual.

“I’m moving out of the apartment into my own place, so I guess he can go back. I’ll have all my stuff out by tomorrow.”

“Fuckin’ finally,” Aegon said, “He’s been driving me up the wall with his tidy, feng shui bullshit. He rearranged my whole place like five times and has taken up all the space in my cabinets with that nasty no-carb shit,” he paused for a moment, “I… didn’t mean that in a bad way to you, ‘course. I’m sorry it had to come to this. He’s a fucking idiot.”

That made you laugh, genuinely. Your first laugh in months. “Yeah– he… tends to do that. He left half of his stuff here, it feels like I’m living in the twilight zone. I just… gotta get away, you know?”

“Hey, I get that– you don’t have to explain yourself to me. He’s a dickhead and doesn’t understand how good he has it. If you want, I can bring my truck over tomorrow and help you move stuff.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Egg.”

“I want to– please.”

Your brow furrowed– Aegon usually wasn’t so persistent on anything unless it involved drinking or drugs. But, you hadn’t had real human contact in eons besides at work so… maybe it could be good.

“Okay, see you tomorrow. Thank you, really.”

–

It was rainy the next day– nasty and wet, droplets pouring down like tears. It felt somewhat familiar.

But, Aegon showed up like he promised, rolling up in his old, fading yellow pick-up truck. His hair was much shorter than you remembered and he looked actually well kept– Aemond must’ve been whipping him into shape.

He waved and ran through the rain, standing under the eave, “So– it’s raining.”

You snorted, “I think I can see that,” you teased with a tiny smile, “Not sure when it’ll let up.”

“I brought uh…” he paused for a moment to think, stretching out his arms in a square shape, “Y’know?”

“A tarp?”

“Yup– that,” he gave a lopsided grin, inviting himself in through the open door, “you aren’t going to kick me out if I don’t take off my shoes, right?”

You glanced down at his boots– they were a bit muddy and definitely wet. Aemond wouldn’t have let him step two feet through the threshold without taking them off. But– you weren't Aemond. “No, keep them on if you want. It’s not my problem if you track dirt through the place anyway.”

He nodded, taking his phone out of his pocket for a moment and shooting a quick message to someone. “Sorry I haven’t been around, it’s just… he’s my brother. It would be kind of… I dunno, crossing some sort of unsaid boundary if I visited his… girlfriend?”

“Ex-girlfriend. I guess,” you corrected softly– but you didn’t really know yourself what it was. He wouldn’t talk to you, “It’s fine. I didn’t expect anyone to really reach out anyway, because of that… unsaid boundary thing.”

“We should’ve. you’re a part of our family with or without Aemond. Me, Helaena and Daeron have a whole group chat about it. Even mom asked where you’ve been,” he scratched the back of his head absentmindedly as he sent out another text, “Someone should’ve checked up sooner.”

“You’re acting like I’m some sort of neglected puppy, Aegon,” you turned to him, “... do I really look so terrible?”

Aegon glanced up at you, his mouth formed in a hard line. He cracked his knuckles, shrugging his shoulders. “I won’t lie to you. You look half dead.”

You blinked. Hard. Moving towards a mirror in the hall, you looked at yourself. Dark circles under sunken eyes, your skin was a pale pallor and your hair needed a trim desperately, your split ends curled and fettered. You were gaunt, as well– having lost a bit of weight over the months. “Jesus,” you muttered. Glancing over at Aegon, he was texting again. “Sending an update to the group chat, I guess? ‘Good news, she’s still alive, barely’?”

He snorted, “Yeah– something like that,” finally, he locked his phone and slipped it in his pocket. “I made sure to text Aemond, too.”

Your mouth felt dry at the mention. “Why?”

“He asked.”

“Asked?”

“He asked me to… make sure you were okay.”

Goosebumps prickled at your skin, the ever familiar feeling of nausea and despair swirling in the pit of your stomach. Nibbling at your lip more, you turned away, feeling a bit too exposed. “And what’d you say?”

“I said you were alive but you are not okay.”

Your lips pursed into a line as you tasted a bit of copper in your mouth from chewing on your lip. “I guess that’s right,” you muttered, “Why would he ask?”

“Aemond is… complicated. you know that better than anyone. I don’t know what kind of bug he has up his ass these last few months but… even through all of this, he still cares.”

“Like hell he does,” you snapped, feeling the sting of tears, “If he did, he would’ve given us a chance to talk it out, to… to try, maybe even go to therapy, I don’t fucking know– he would’ve reached out– anyone should’ve reached out,” your hand went to your hair, right at your hairline at your scalp, picking at the hairs there– another self-destructive habit you’ve picked up in your months of isolation, “I’m so fucking alone, Aegon. He knows… you all know I have absolutely no one else. I’ve been going through this on my own. I have no friends, no family– no brother to go live with when I need space, no family group chat. I don’t have shit, Aegon. All I’ve ever known in my life is him and you and Helaena and Daeron and mom. Why… why does it feel like I was cast off the island without even… a tribal council or something?” you sniffed, the tears coming in full force now.

Aegon was silent, coming up behind you. “I’m… sorry,” he murmured, putting his hands on your shoulders, as frail and skeletal as you were, “We should’ve been better. We… will be better.” he turned you around and pulled you into his chest, enveloping you in his arms. “We thought you would’ve been… fine without him. He made it seem like that– that you were strong enough. I only figured it out yesterday when he was up my ass about texting him as soon as I saw you. He needed to know if you were feeding yourself, if you were keeping up with your medication, if you still had nightmares. A fuckin’... laundry list of questions– I told him to stick his questions up where the sun don’t shine and to see for himself,” he took a breath, “He settled on one question– if you were okay.”

“I think he got his fucking answer, then,” you whispered, “I am not okay. I haven’t been okay in months. I… I need help.”

“I know,” Aegon shifted you slightly to look at your face, “We’ll help you– I promise, you won’t be alone anymore. Look, I’ll even add you to the group chat, okay? I’ll rename it to ‘Aemond Sucks’, how does that sound?”

You cracked a tiny smile, sniffling. “Yeah… I’d like that.”

–

You ended up moving your belongings to your new place the same day, effectively ridding yourself of the constant shadow of Aemond’s memory.

Aegon even took you to Michael’s and HomeGoods to get stuff for your little studio, so you could really make it yours. It was a bit intimidating at first– you weren't used to being able to decorate things the way you wanted, as Aemond always opted to keep things simple and minimalistic.

You, admittedly, went all out. Your new studio looked like a Pinterest board titled ‘cottagecore’. You were incredibly happy with it all, practically jumping up and down at it.

“It looks so good! I love these little mushroom chairs you picked out, Egg,” you hummed, patting some plush felted stools in the shape of mushrooms, which you put near the window. “I bet Helaena would love it.”

“Let’s take some pictures for the group chat, Hel will literally be all over this. you two always love that cottagecore, fairycore, fantasy… shit.” he grinned, stooping down to take some very out of perspective pictures of the mushroom chairs, making them look fifty feet tall.

You settled into your new place quickly, having Helaena, Aegon and Daeron over quite often for drinks and movies. Your health steadily improved until you were mostly back to normal physically– there would be a lot of scars internally, however that would take longer to heal, if you ever would. You had developed a trust issue complex since Aemond’s unceremonious exit from your life and hadn’t gone on any dates, you didn’t know when or if you would ever be ready. They did you the courtesy of not mentioning Aemond, until Daeron said something odd.

It was about four months after you moved in, and almost a full year since you’d last seen Aemond. You were all a few mixed drinks in, Aegon had made them and you were heavy on the alcohol, light on the ‘mix’, and you were all kicked back on the couch, with Aegon laying on the mushroom chairs stacked next to each other, lazed back like a cat.

“Mom says she wants you over for Christmas dinner,” Daeron said, taking a sip of his drink, “She figured it’d be fine with Aemond going off with his new…” he blinked, catching himself.

Helaena nudged Daeron in the ribs as a warning, staring at their friend warily.

“... his new? His new what?” you asked, your voice so quiet that it must’ve been like a squeak.

“... new girlfriend.” he finished.

You were silent for a while before sighing. “I figured it would happen eventually. I can only hope that it… wasn’t too soon after we broke up– or whatever… happened.”

“We all told him it was fucked up that he just left and ghosted you, lovey. Even mom got on his ass about it, and he is her favorite child who usually can do no wrong.” Helaena put her drink down, wrapping her arm around you. “You should come to Christmas dinner, everyone would be super happy to see you! And Aemond won’t be there, so even more reason to come. Please.” she whimpered, using her best puppy-dog face.

You mulled it over in your mind for a few moments. You couldn’t think of anything more painful than being alone during the holidays, so you nodded.

–

It was snowing on Christmas day, the flurries coming down and melting against your skin as you waited for Aegon to pick you up. You were wearing a red checkered tapestry dress with a flannel jacket, a white fluffed scarf wrapped around your neck and lower face. As soon as you saw the familiar color of Aegon’s truck, you practically booked it into the passenger seat.

“Merry Christmas, you look fantastic,” Aegon mused, ever the charmer. “I’ve got the heater on full blast, I promise– but y’know my old boy’s puttering these days. We’ll need to get some speed for it to really warm up.”

“Mmm,” you murmured, your teeth chattering, “S’cold.”

He reached back and grabbed a well-used blanket, draping it over your legs. “Better?”

“... yeah– but,” you blinked, raising a brow. “What do you have this in the truck for?”

Aegon laughed as he began the drive to his family’s estate. “I think you know.”

“Please don’t tell me you’ve fucked someone on this blanket, Aegon.”

“Someones– not just someone. But I keep it clean, no worries!”

The drive to the Targaryen estate was about an hour and a half from town, nestled deep into an expansive forest where there weren’t any other homes in at least five miles. It was a gorgeous, Victorian style mansion and according to Daeron, was most certainly haunted. You had been here numerous times, of course, but it’d been a while. As you pulled up in the driveway, you saw Alicent standing outside the door dressed in a gorgeous red and green festive dress, hair curled to perfection. Nothing less was expected of Alicent, though.

“Oh, my darling,” Alicent cooed, holding her arms out to caress who she thought of as her fifth child. “It’s been too long, I’ve missed you.”

Your heart warmed under Alicent’s caress, someone who had become more of a mother figure to you than your actual mother. You sniffed, pressing your forehead into Alicent’s shoulder. “Missed you too, mom.”

“Come on, you both can cry inside in the nice toasty house, yeah? I’m freezing my balls off here, mom.”

Alicent huffed, ushering both of you inside. “Don’t be vulgar, son– it’s Christmas.”

Helaena and Daeron were already there, as well as Otto, who gave you a stiff nod as a greeting, as was his usual means of communication.

You settled into the kitchen, Alicent pouring everyone apple cider and dishing out at least six types of holiday themed cookies. About an hour after arriving, there was a knock on the door.

“Oh, that must be Rhaenyra and Laena. Can you answer the door, darling? I need to take the roast out of the oven. I’m sure they would be happy to see you!”

“Mhm!” you mused through bites of cookies. You loved Rhaenyra and Laena, who were technically married with husbands, as was Alicent, but the three of them were in a secret, not so secret to anyone with eyes, polyamorous relationship. It always amused all of their kids when they tried to hide it.

You turned the doorknob, fully expecting to see Rhaenyra and Laena. It was not.

Aemond.

“Fuck.” you blurted out, eyes wide. It had been the better part of a year since you had last seen him. His hair was longer now, gathered into a low bun at the nape of his neck, his cheeks a bit more gaunt. He still wore his earrings and his rings– including the one you had given him almost a decade ago.

“Shit.” he responded, seemingly caught equally off guard by seeing you again. The pupil of his non-prosthetic eye dilated until the iris was almost consumed in black, before he flexed his hand and reeled himself in.

You couldn’t help but notice he was alone– no ‘new girlfriend’ as Daeron had put it. “Aemond,” you breathed, feeling like you were outside of your own body, your head filled with fluff and static. “Merry… Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” he responded gruffly, “Can I come in?”

“Oh– yeah, duh,” you chastised yourself, stepping aside to let him in. “Sorry.”

“Mm.” he grunted in his usual manner. That seemed to be a habit he hadn’t dropped.

You all but retreated to the kitchen, the expression on your face telling everything. Aegon, Daeron, and Helaena gathered around you.

“I didn’t invite him, I swear.” Aegon whispered.

“Well, neither did I!” Daeron professed.

“Don’t look at me, I didn’t invite him. He left me on read three weeks ago when I sent him a picture of a bug on my windowsill.” Helaena sniffed.

A new voice chimed in. “I invited him,” Alicent spoke, breaking up the little posse, “I told him to come over or he would be grounded for three months.”

All four of you stared at Alicent, deadpanned.

“Mom– he’s… almost twenty-seven. you can’t ground him,” Daeron said, confused. “And moreover, why? Wasn’t he busy?”

“Well, first off, he is my son, so I wanted to see him for Christmas. Two, I believe we have someone here who has some unresolved issues with him.” Alicent responded, staring right at you pointedly.

“... I don’t know… I… I don’t know if I can talk to him. It’s been too long… I feel like I was just getting over all of this.”

“Well, do I have any say in this?” Aemond barged into the circle, his hands in his pockets.

You suddenly felt overwhelmed, the familiar bubbling of everything being too much rising in your stomach. You were teleported back to months ago when you were barely alive, trapped in your own mind. “I… I need… I need a minute.” you muttered, your voice sounding distorted as you made your way to the bathroom, turning on the faucet. Chest heaving, you were already crying, the waterworks starting somewhere between the hallway and the sink.

“You’re always fucking crying, I can’t take it anymore.” Aemond’s voice from months and months ago echoed in your head, causing the tears to flow more. You bit against your lip, tasting blood right away as you willed yourself to stop crying.

“S-stop… stop crying,” you whispered, fingers messing up your hair as you held fistfuls of it. You couldn’t catch your composure for the life of you, sliding against the bathroom wall onto the floor.

Vision blurring, you don’t know how long you were incoherent for. When you came back to yourself, Aemond was in front of you, crouched down.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, the door closed behind him, “It’s okay.”

You swallowed, still numb as he pried your fists from your head, out of your hair, smoothing it down.

“Look at me, can you do that? Nod if you can hear me.”

You nodded slowly, the feeling coming back to your extremities in a sprightly tickling sensation. You blinked tears from your eyes, the liquid smearing your vision.

Aemond rasped a thumb over your eyes, effectively clearing the obstruction from your vision. “Just breathe,” he continued to whisper. It was ever reminiscent of when he would calm you down after a nightmare, voice low and scratchy in a way that comforted you. He was so close now, closer than he’d been in forever. He still smelled the same, the scent triggering a deep aching within your chest. A scent that took you forever to get rid of, but you never truly could. “Can… we talk?” he asked then, his voice sounding more vulnerable than ever.

It felt like whiplash, visions of your previous fights plaguing you, where he had been so closed off, so far away, so distant that you couldn’t reach him– and now, he was here. In the present, in the flesh. In front of you, opened. Not opened completely, but you could see it, like the slit of a cracked door, the light bleeding through. It was there.

“... yeah.”

“I… I’m… I’m sorry. What I did was fucked up. It was fucked up and wrong and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

“You’re right about that,” you muttered, pulling your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. “I didn’t deserve it.”

Aemond’s mouth twitched slightly before he sat down next to you, propping up his legs in a criss-cross. He opened his mouth to speak a few times, before closing it. His hands flexed and unflexed in quick succession– he was clearly thinking very carefully about his next words. “... I’ve… got issues. You know that better than anyone. I don’t know what was going through my head those months that we fought. I can hardly remember it now, it was like… I was in a fog, a haze– I was working myself half to death, I just wanted dad to notice, to fucking… appreciate me,” he put his hands on his head, “I was so… tied up in this illusion that if I made junior associate at the firm so young that he would congratulate me on my achievement and…” Aemond let out a sigh, “And… in the process… I pushed you away.”

You looked at him, feeling your gaze soften ever so slightly. You knew that his father was a sore spot for him and that trauma ran deep. “You didn’t just push me away, Aemond,” you sighed, reaching out a shaky hand to pry one of his from his face. “... if you would’ve just talked to me, I could’ve helped. You didn’t push… you… you shoved, you shoved and ran in the other direction.”

His one violet eye danced towards you. “I know. I’ve been kicking myself for it. When Aegon told me you weren’t doing well… I almost left work to see you.”

“... you did?”

“Yeah. Aegon basically told me not to– that… this was something you needed space for. Kind of like I did but… maybe in a more healthy way.”

“A text wouldn’t have hurt.”

He reached into his pocket and took out his phone– his wallpaper was still the same as it was, a picture of you, him and Vhagar very unhappy in an elf costume. He scrolled to his notes app, which was filled with messages addressed to you. “... I thought it might, after what Aegon had said. I was… ashamed of how I acted, how I handled the whole thing– how I left you alone without a word. He told me how you looked… dead. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

Your eyes scanned the messages, picking out some words. The main ones that caught your gaze were ‘sorry’, ‘love’, ‘regret’. A huge breath left your lungs, feeling as if everything had been knocked out of you at once. You felt like you were being whipped back and forth in the wind, trying to grab onto anything. If you both weren’t so stubborn and just messaged one another– well, no. You did message him, one time. “I thought you blocked me.”

“... for five minutes, maybe.”

“God, we’re so fucking stupid, Aemond.”

“You aren’t– don’t say that. I’m literally a dumbass. All of my siblings told me so, even my own mother, and you know she never curses.”

The tiniest of smiles cracked onto your face as you jostled his shoulder. “Yeah… you are a dumbass. I am allowed to say it at least once. So, um,” you shuffled slightly, “Daeron kind of let it slip that you had a new girlfriend?”

Aemond pinched his brow. “Of course he said that. He is twenty-one years old and still doesn’t know how to use his goddamn ears. I said I was seeing a new therapist, not that I had a fucking girlfriend.”

“A therapist?”

“... things got really dark for me after I moved back into our… no, my… place. After you officially moved out. It felt lifeless, all of your things were gone, the fucking warmth sucked out of the place. It felt like it’d been sterilized of anything… good. I feel into something– I don’t know, a depression? I guess, that’s what Aegon called it. He suggested I see a therapist, citing me as ‘an emotionally stunted asshole who needs more therapy than him’.” he exaggerated the last bit with air quotes, rolling his eye.

“... he isn’t wrong. I mean, I love your family, but all of you are all kinds of fucked up. Maybe I am too, practically being a part of it.”

Aemond chuckled, giving a tight lipped smile. “We are fucked up. I realized that… I really do not give a shit what my dad thinks, because nothing will ever be good enough for him. He’s so far gone now that he probably doesn’t even know we exist. I’ve come to terms with that and honestly… it feels like a weight has been lifted.”

“I’m glad you could… work through some of that, Aemond.” you say sincerely, resting your cheek on his arm absentmindedly.

“... I want to talk about us.”

“... us. Okay.”

“I don’t expect you to want to jump right back into things. It would be unfair to think that– but… maybe we could try?”

Your chest feels a bit tight at his admission– he wanted to try. Every fiber in your being wanted to say yes and jump back into it like you’d never left. But you knew you couldn’t. There were still parts of you scarred by this whole experience, some parts that may never heal. It would take a long time and a lot of talks like this to even get some semblance of what the both of you had. “Well… before we were together, believe it or not, we were friends. Could we… try that for right now?”

His chest visibly deflated a bit, but he nodded. “Whatever you need, okay?”

–

The days following Christmas, leading up to New Year’s were… different. You and Aemond were back in contact, going out for coffee and lunch a few times.

On the day before New Year’s eve, you texted him.

Turns out, timing the movie to sync with 12 am on New Year’s day to Toby Maguire saying ‘Pizza time’ was difficult. Well, it wasn’t difficult for normal people– but you and Aemond were a bit tipsy, as Aegon had left some hard apple ciders in your fridge, to which you both indulged.

“Okay, okay,” Aemond stared at his phone, “5… 4… 2… wait, no, fuck, 3… 2… I think we fucked it up– just go, go!”

Quickly, you started the movie. “Maybe we should’ve practiced– can we start over?” you plopped on the couch, sinking into the sofa and taking a swig of the cider.

“Doesn’t work like that, sweetheart. Can’t turn back time.” he mused softly, squatting down on one of the mushroom stools. “Pretty comfy.”

“Aegon picked those out, nifty, huh?”

“Nifty.” he parroted.

The movie continued on, but as it went on, there was an unspoken tension growing. Aemond hadn’t sat on the couch, but rather, the stools that were on the other side of the room. It felt like a chasm had formed, the strain almost palpable.

You chewed on your lip anxiously, contemplating whether or not to say anything. But, you had both been trying a new technique called ‘communication’ – a pretty cool and helpful thing that Aemond’s therapist had taught him. You remember laughing when he posed it that same way– but it was extremely important. You cleared your throat. “Why are you sitting all the way over there?”

“... um. I wanted to try the mushroom seats, I guess.”

“You don’t want to sit next to me?” you countered, feeling especially brave.

“Is that… alright?”

“Um, duh. I invited you over for pizza and a movie so we could… sit together. Not for you to be half a mile away sitting on a mushroom.”

“As long as it’s alright with you.” he murmured, sitting up from the mushroom stool and making his way over to you, sliding onto the couch, still a few feet away from you.

You weren’t sure if it was the atmosphere, the pent up emotions, the small buzz of alcohol, or a destructive cocktail of all three, but you inched closer to him. Closer, closer… until your thighs were touching. You glanced up at him beneath fettered lashes. “Hi.”

“Hey.” he responded, his voice low and warm. It caused a balmy and comforting vibration to go through you, reverberating in your chest.

You became all too aware of your movements, your closeness to him, the skin of your thigh grazing against his jeans as you got as close as you could. Your lips parted slightly as he stared back down at you. “Can… we?”

“Can we, what?” he murmured, lacing his fingers through your loose hair, gently grasping it at the nape of your neck. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“... kiss. A little bit.”

“Just a little bit?”

“Mhm. A teeny bit.” you leaned up, Aemond meeting you halfway as your lips came together. The culmination of your year apart, all of the emotions, the sadness, the frustration and anger, the passion, love, tears– all of it came together at this moment as the two of you melded together perfectly, as if you’d never left. You couldn’t help but let out a sigh of contentment, followed by what could only be articulated as a moan.

It caught both of you off guard, Aemond pulling away for a moment, his lips still ghosting over yours. “Fucking hell,” he breathed against your skin, sending goosebumps tingling from your tailbone up to the nape of your neck, the hairs on your body standing on end. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you,” you responded before latching onto him once more. It started off loving and slow, your lips moving against one another like two old lovers dancing together– then it began to heat up, your mouth parting to accommodate his tongue, gnashing against yours as their dance turned up a notch. Your hands roamed his body, everything you committed to memory for so many years still in its same spot. It felt good, it felt like home. “Please, Aemond– I… I need you. It’s been so long… too long…”

“Too long since I’ve had you, had this,” his hand reached down, cupping your mound still hidden beneath your panties. Somehow, you foresaw this moment before it happened and thankfully wore a light dress. “Let me in, love.”

You parted your legs, feeling the ever familiar crook of his fingers slide down the front of your panties, testing the waters. The pad of his thumb and middle finger locked on instantly to your clit, swirling the sensitive bud, sending electric shocks through your extremities. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, pressing your forehead against his. “Need you inside, now.” you all but growled as you peppered little kisses along the soft flesh of his neck.

He wouldn’t keep you waiting long, as it seemed he needed this as much as you did. He parted your panties to the side, propping you on top of him and sliding you down his length, earning a hissed gasp from both of you. It took all of his strength not to burst in you right then, as you enveloped him in your tight, wet heat. “You were made for me,” he breathed, biting down on your shoulder, leaving red marks. One of his favorite things to do was to mark you, leaving hickies in his wake as he worshiped every inch of exposed skin he could reach. “Melded so perfectly, just for me.” he grabbed the flesh of your bottom, squeezing gently at first, then landing a smack on it as he began to thrust up into you.

You nodded fervently, hiccuping little moans as you dug your face into his shoulder, biting him in turn. Your nails sunk into his skin, indenting against his spine as they always had, as they always were meant to. It felt much like a pianist resting their fingers on the ivories after a long break, the pads of your fingers sinking into the ridges of his very being. You were meant to be here, he was meant to be here. You could feel your end coming on all too soon, his cock filling every nook and cranny of you, bullying that spongy, delicate sweet spot just right. You began to clench, your tell-tale sign to him that you were close.

“I love you,” he whispered, panting slightly, using one hand to push your face back so you could meet his gaze. His wild, pupil-blown out gaze, cheeks reddened, mouth parted, brow furrowed. “I love you, I fucking love you. I missed you– fuck.”

“I l-love you,” you responded before he parted your lips with his thumb, “Love you so much– p-please, s’close.” you whined into his mouth.

“Let go, sweetheart, c’mon,” he grinned against your lips, nipping and biting at them. “Come for me.”

That was all you needed, the twine of your climax coming undone right in your core, snapping like a taut thread. Your usual habit was to hide your face in his shoulder when you came, whimpering and panting– but he didn’t let you this time. He held your face, staring at you intently as if you were a piece of fine art on display, and he was a connoisseur.

You clenched around him tightly, spurring him to his own end. His hard wrought fingers gripped your ass like it was a lifeline, grunting as he found his release deep within you, where it was always meant to be.

Coming down from your high, you slumped against his chest, mouth parted. Embarrassingly enough, a little drool wetted your lips. You were fully and thoroughly fucked out, not even registering that Tobey Maguire said “Pizza time!”

“Happy New Year, love,” Aemond murmured against your hair, nestling you tightly against him. He didn’t pull out– he preferred it this way, having you warm him through until you both fell asleep.

“... Happy New Year,” you whispered back.

–

Two and a half months later, it was Valentine's day. You and Aemond were officially dating again as of January 2nd, much to the surprise of no one.

You both took things as slow as you could, keeping separate apartments for the time being– but you’d given him a key to your place about two weeks in, and he was there all the time, taking much needed leave from work.

Unlocking the door to your apartment, you walked in, seeing Aemond lounging on the couch with a scruffy brown furball on him.

“Oh, Vhagar! You brought my baby,” you mused, dropping your items (with some grace, so as not to scare the geriatric cat), walking over, “Oh, I hope she remembers me.” you frowned, kneeling down and offering your hand to her.

“Of course she’ll remember, she yelled at me for a good three months at Aegon’s when we were without you.”

Vhagar sniffed your hand for a good minute before blinking her sleepy, lazy eyes at you, then promptly rubbing her scraggly cheek fur on your hand. You were elated, scratching her cheeks, hearing the tinkling of a little bell.

“A new collar?”

“Mhm, take a look.”

You swirled the collar around, looking for the name tag– only to find… a ring. An opal and moonstone ring. Your heart stopped in your chest as you stared at Aemond.

“I would get down on one knee– I was intending on you coming home and Vhagar running to you and then you finding it… but she’s on me, and I can’t get up. Cat rules,” he mused, unclipping the collar from her neck and slipping the ring onto your finger. “I know we’ve only been dating for… a month and a half, so stop me if it’s too soon.” he grinned, his toothy smile.

Vhagar gave a croaking meow, promptly jumping off of Aemond’s lap. As soon as the old cat was off, you threw yourself at Aemond, blubbering. “This… this…” you sniffed, unable to form words.

“Just so there isn’t any confusion… will you marry me?” he asked, wiping your tears away with his thumb.

“Yes, yes– I will,” you sniffle, burying your face in his chest and sobbing.

He let you sob on him, getting his shirt all snotty and wet, all while smiling.

After crying for at least ten minutes, you manage to take a picture, sending it to the group chat, with the caption: “I think we should add him to the chat now, guys.”

Ding.

“Is this group chat named ‘Aemond sucks’?”

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fic #aemond fanfic #aemond fluff #aemond smut #modern aemond smut #modern aemond #aemond targaryen smut #hotd smut #aemond angst #my writing

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howisjoostfanfictionforfree · 4 months ago

Text

Stop Sending Me Fruit Pics

Joost Klein x reader fanfic 18+ MDNI | RPF!!!

Joost hears something you don’t exactly want him to...

Reader: established relationship, f!reader, tried not to be too descriptive with physical characteristics but I’m sure I slipped up somewhere

CW: 18+ NSFW, RPF, smut, consensual but consent is not explicitly stated so be warned if you care about that, kind of rough, unprotected piv, cream pie, filthy onomatopoeia, cringe dialogue?

Words: ~1,900. Just a lil blurb.

A/N: Ayy you know when sometimes you’re so wet you realize you can hear your pussy makin’ little *schlick-smack* noises when you walk? No? Just me? Dang. Anyway, here’s Wonderwall.

No I did NOT listen to WAP when I was writing this…

🍌🥝 🍌🥝 🍌🥝 🍌 🥝 🍌🥝 🍌🥝 🍌 🥝 🍌 🥝 🍌 🥝 🍌 🥝 🍌

You just got home.

You had been at Tantu’s all day with Joost and you had been so worked up the whole time. You tried to play it cool, keeping to yourself on the beanbag in the corner while they worked, pretending you weren’t thinking about choking on that dick.

Sometimes you think the fact that you don’t have a dick makes you a little too bold. Since you don’t have to worry about boners there is literally nothing to stop you from having wild fantasies in public and you rarely fail to take advantage of this. There have never been consequences so far, you’ve never been rendered unable to act normal when people engage with you. Still, you wonder if one day you’ll slip up and say something like ‘oh hey, how’s it boning?’. The possibility hasn’t stopped you yet.

You sit there all afternoon thinking fairly depraved thoughts with no one the wiser and try to look busy on your laptop while discreetly watching Joost work.

When evening rolls around they decide they are done for the day and you are happy to see there is no wet spot on the upholstery when you get up. You gather your things and say your goodbyes. Then, as you’re heading out the door, you realize you can hear something strange. There is a little *schlick* with each step. Schlick...schlick… Oh. That is definitely your pussy. Guess you got a little carried away. It seems quiet enough that no one will put two and two together though. You just hope if Joost does notice something he will chalk it up to the bouncing click of a zipper or the back and forth of the synthetic material of your coat. You resolve to change your underwear as soon as you’re home.

You’ve arrived and you’re taking off your shoes by the door when you look over and see Joost’s brow furrowed, looking at you curiously. Fuck. You’re not sure when it caught his attention but it has now and you try to walk into the living room slowly to dampen the sound. Maybe you can keep him from zeroing in on it. He puts down his bag and slowly pads after you.

You’re halfway through the main space now. Act casual, act casual. The bedroom door is right there. Be cool, be cool. You look behind you to see if he’s still following and happen to catch the moment it clicks for him because his eyes go wide.

FUCK

His strides are swift as he bridges the gap between you and grabs your wrists when you turn and try to backpedal, palms raised in defense. He’s got a disbelieving look on his face and it’s turning into a shit-eating grin.

“Are you….wet?”

“No, definitely not.” You don’t even know why you’re lying. It’s not like you’re not super down to get it on. You’ve been lusting after him since this morning. Just, something about arousal to the point of being audible is embarrassing. What did that one guy in the vine say to his mom when she was making mac ’n cheese?

“I think you’re lying schatje.”

He spins you around and bends you over the arm of the couch before you can think of an excuse.

“Joost! Come on!”

You try to stand up but he has a hand on your back and his other one immediately works to shimmy your pants down.

“Dude!”

He’s ignoring you. As soon as he’s got them down far enough he presses his fingers to your panties and swears violently at how obviously little they are doing to contain the situation. You suck in a breath. The gig is up. He rips them down to join your jeans and you can feel the string that connects them to your pussy break and stick to your thigh. God. He brings his hand back up quickly and dips his fingers in. He runs them through your folds and huffs out a laugh in awe.

“Joooost” you whine. You can’t believe he’s laughing at you.

“Schatje, what has you so fucking wrecked?”

“Shut upppppp” You groan.

“Is this all for me? You’re so wet I can’t believe it.”

It is in fact all for him but your tongue is now stuck to the roof of your mouth with the way he starts tracing around your clit. He teases little circles around it. Not right where you need him but close enough to keep you arching into his hold. His huge hand on your back feels like a brand.

“Aww that’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.”

You do your best to make an indignant noise into the cushions.

Continuing his investigation he drags the tips down to your entrance and teases around it lightly. You squirm a bit, it almost tickles, but his pin is firm. Suddenly he drives two fingers in to the knuckle and you choke. It makes the most filthy squelch. He pumps them in and out a few times slowly, repeating the noise.

“My god schatje”

Your face is on fucking fire.

You want to make some quip, tell him if he doesn’t like it he can stick his damn fingers somewhere else, but you know that it isn’t an actual criticism. No, not with the way he is deliberately plunging his fingers to get the loudest possible *smack-slurp*. Not with the way he’s withdrawing every few pumps to run his drenched fingers through your folds, making equally obscene noises. It feels good but you can tell his entire focus is on reveling in the sheer quantity of your arousal rather than actually driving you higher. You start chasing his fingers, rocking back into his touch.

Then, just as suddenly, he whips his fingers back out, undoes his belt, rips down his pants, lines up, and sinks in in one go.

You scream.

Not in pain, but at the intensity of sensation. Things never usually move this fast. You were already so turned on that it felt perfect though. You have no idea if he’s saying anything to you because you white out for a moment. He holds there as deep as possible for a few beats, letting you adjust, but he can't help himself and soon he pulls back and starts building a rhythm.

“Mmmmmmnn, baby, you feel so good. Were you waiting for me today?”

“Oh my god oh my godohmygodohmygod” You don’t know why he thinks you can talk right now.

Having done the bare minimum to not absolutely murder your cervix he begins picking up the pace. Soon he is jackhammering you into the couch as you scrabble for purchase on frustratingly smooth cushions. You can feel yourself dripping down his balls as they slap against you. The noises are worse than ever. The endless *slap-slap-schlap-shlup* is doing something to your brain.

Your hurtle towards orgasm alarmingly quickly. As soon as he reaches around to massage at your neglected clit you can’t even choke out a warning before your eyes roll back and you’re spasming around him in wild pulses. You whimper his name over and over in a way you will probably find embarrassing later.

At the feeling he grips your hips that much tighter, thrusting savagely as his gasps gain a breathy quality. Just as you start to go boneless he hooks an arm around you, pulling you back up into his chest before you can face plant, making your back arch sharply as he slams home and stays deep, spilling inside of you.

“Ohh fuuuckk....Schatje!”

You’re not sure you can actually feel his cum but there is some sort of twinge of warmth and it has you twitching around him once more. He groans at the feeling and bucks into you again lightly, teeth coming to gently press into your neck. You whimper and let yourself soak in the feeling of him in and around you. The weight of him still inside you and his bruising grip holding you so sweetly.

After a minute he removes his teeth and brushes his lips over the spot. He kisses over your shoulders, gradually letting you both come down. Eventually he loosens his hold, releasing you from the somewhat contortionist pose. Once you’ve got your hands on solid couch again he pulls out slowly. Immediately his cum runs down your legs and you can’t help but let out another little noise. You try to close your legs to stop it but he grabs your thighs and holds them open, leaning back to watch. One of his thumbs moves to spread you open just a little, admiring his work. He gives a happy little sigh.

“Jooooost” You complain, but you really don’t have it in you to stop him.

He groans and pulls away finally, taking off his own shirt. He wipes up your thighs gently. When he’s done he wraps his arms around you and drags you up into a hug, your back pressed against his chest. He kisses at your temple a few times and then turns you around so he can finally kiss your mouth. You sigh heavily in his arms. As nice as it is to get dicked down you had missed his mouth. You always crave his kiss. You feel your strength returning and you bring your arms up around his neck so you can deepen it. You make out languidly for a few minutes but you are tired. All of that kind of made your back hurt. When you part from his mouth he is looking at you appreciatively.

“Was that okay?” he asks. “I know it was kinda fast. I could’t help it, I had to feel your pussy.”

“Yeah, that was really hot, even if it was kind of embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing that you were so wet I could hear it?” He leers at you.

You look away, shy all over again. He chuckles and kisses over your face.

“What made you so wet schatje, hmm? I still want to know. What is there to think about in the studio?”

You bury your face in his shoulder now, groaning.

“Come on babyyyy what has you so hot that I could hear it?”

“Hhhhhh…..the fruit.” You finally mumble into his skin. You still can’t look at him.

“Hah? The fruit? Oh!! Really?”

You remember the moment you received the selfie with the kiwi. He had left for the studio earlier than you. Later, when you were on your way to join him, he sent you a picture of his snack with the words ‘babe my cum is gonna taste so good’. A few minutes after that you received another one with a banana. You sent a simple tongue emoji in return. Your relationship was no stranger to sexting but something about this made you blush. You spent the whole train ride to the studio flipping through your mental catalogue of the many times you had blown him. The weight of him on your tongue and the feeling of him in your throat. When was the last time he actually finished in your mouth? Oral always turned into fucking. God you want him to come down your throat. By the time you made it to the studio you were feeling more than a little warm.

“Yesss fuck you it was hot okay”

“Ohh? Do you wish we did something else? I can give you a taste next time kay?”

You can feel his grin pressed to your ear. You sigh as dramatically as you can manage.

“Okay, I guess I can wait.”

You pull back to look at him.

“In the mean time, we do have blueberries in the fridge.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Cues door de Kirk* ~chap die poenie als bosbessen!!! 🫐✨

But like, the other way around,

eh you get it

#my writing #joost #joost klein #joost x reader #joost klein x reader #joost klein smut #joost smut #joost x you #joost klein x you #joost fanfic #joost klein fanfic

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