#Market Storage Bags | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stellewriites · 2 months ago

Text

simon is a he/him lesbian in this fic. he’s a gender nonconforming cis woman & prefers using a masc name and pronouns

huge thank you to woolie, birdy, gougie, báir & three for being so encouraging and helping me with this fic and to kitty for making all of my oc names as always :3

this is a love letter to butches <33

Riley (he/him), 31, female.

Looking for a roommate ASAP. DM for details, don’t fuck me about.

you’d found the post on an online forum asking for a roommate and hadn’t hesitated to reach out immediately when you saw you were in the same city. your current roommate was only a few weeks away from moving in with her boyfriend, which would leave you with an apartment you couldn’t afford on your own.

although the post left everything to the imagination, the options for roommates were slim pickings and the single room apartments on the market were no cheaper, meaning you were getting desperate.

after a brief back and forth online with riley, he explained that his own roommate was moving out which was why he was looking for someone new to fill the spot. the apartment was cheap for the area - not that he told you where it was- and you’d have your own bedroom but you’d share the living room and kitchen, there were two small bathrooms, and storage in the shallow loft since it was the top floor apartment.

standard stuff but it sounded perfect.

riley was a blunt texter, but you assumed he’d maybe had his fill of people messing him about so far and just wanted to get down to business and find a roommate before he was stuck in the same position as you; paying double rent for a place that wasn’t worth it, digging into savings to stay afloat.

after covering whether you smoked (quit last year), had any pets (allergic), or liked frequent house parties (too shy), he offered to meet up to go into more detail about the place and you’d jumped at the chance, naming a cafe you liked to frequent near your work.

you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting when you arrived and found a table near the window - or more accurately, what you’d been picturing riley to look like - but you’d had to school your features into something less flustered when a tall woman in a baggy hoody and a pair of black work out shorts walked in and bee-lined for your corner.

as he walked your eyes glued themselves to his nike shorts as they rose up his thighs, indecently tight, showing off the thick muscle covered in a smattering of soft, unshaven hair, light enough that it glistened in the afternoon light. as he got closer you noticed a smattering of scars leading up his shins to his knees and stretch marks curving around the inside of his thighs.

you felt the urge to reach out and touch when you felt the weight of his own gaze taking you in for the first time.

“riley?” you’d asked hesitantly, when you finally managed to lift your head up to face him, cheeks ablaze. beneath his hood you could see that the scars continued on his face; almost prominently one ran from mid chin through his lips and up his cheek, another, smaller but thicker, ran from his hairline to two inches down his forehead slightly off centre.

you were mesmerised.

“prefer simon,” he’d corrected but nodded, his voice lighter than you’d expected but thickly accented.

he pulled down his hood with a scant look around the cafe to reveal a short cropped haircut, a little shaggy at the top. he took the seat opposite you and you sat up straight when your knees bumped accidentally. you snatched your legs back beneath your chair and clenched your thighs tightly together as the warmth of his bare skin throbbed through your jeans.

christ what was wrong with you? you had the attention of one hot, tall butch and suddenly you were a bag of nerves and fumbling all over the place. get it together.

“oh! yeah ok, cool,” you said and tried to smile normally. “simon.”

“not what you were expecting?” he asked wryly.

“uhm, no,” you admitted with an embarrassed little huff. “not exactly; i don’t really know what i was expecting though to be fair.”

“want to back out? no ‘ard feelings,” simon offered indifferently. guarded.

“no! no, i’m still very interested,” you insisted, biting your cheek when he raised an eyebrow at you in amusement. “i ordered already, uhm. got here a little early after work so i figured why not? i just got you a latte, i should’ve maybe asked.”

you felt wrong footed in front of his confidence. his legs were spread wide beneath the table, feet planted on the outside of yours and suddenly this felt less like a first meeting for a roommate and instead like your ideal first date.

you looked over at the counter and tapped your leg impatiently when you couldn’t see your drinks.

“that’s nice of ya.”

“i wanted to make a good first impression if we’re gonna be roomies,” you joked.

“mm.” he looked you up and down. “you messy?”

“excuse me?”

“i like to keep the place clean. deal breaker if you’re messy, it’s why soap had to move out.”

“soap? i don’t— yeah, i’m clean. tidy. i can keep my shit tidy,” you insisted. a waitress brought your drinks over on a tray and you thanked her quietly.

he smiled. “good, then this should be fine.” his foot tapped yours under the table. “relax. you said you came here after work?”

“yeah, i work nearby. sales calls, nothing interesting,” you shrugged and took a big sip. “pay is shit, but it covers half of the bills. what about you?”

“construction,” he said simply and your eyes drifted without permission to his hands wrapped around his mug then up to his arms hidden beneath his hoody.

“nice,” you choked out, visions of simon in a sweaty tank top throwing back a sledge hammer, not at all helping with the heat on your face and between your legs. “long hours?”

“sometimes,” he conceded. “s’why i asked about parties. don’t need to be coming home from work to an ‘ouse full’a dick’eads.”

you snorted.

“i can promise no house parties. well, maybe one around my birthday but i mean does inviting four people around for pizza really count as a house party?”

simon squinted his eyes playfully. “guess i can allow a little leniency here and there.”

you grinned behind your cup.

“what about your own friends? they swing by often?”

“not if i can help it,” simon huffed, a smile pulling at his scarred lip as you chuffed a surprised laugh. “tend to go to gaz’s or price’s house if his bird in’t home.”

the idea of a bunch of lads around the flat wouldn’t have necessarily been a deal breaker, but it was a relief to know it wasn’t going to be often regardless.

the pair of you stayed long enough to order a second drink while you discussed rent prices, tenancy agreements, and simon showed you photos of the area it was in.

“can show you the place now if you don’t need to head home yet?” he’d offered. “not too far to walk from here. could get an idea of the place and see if it fits.”

you’d nodded eagerly and followed him a couple of blocks away to a cosy, hidden away flat near the centre of town. you were surprised it was as cheap as he’d said given the location, but when the water refused to get hot in the kitchen sink when he went to wash a singular mug you soon caught on.

“boiler goes every other month, but i know how to fix it,” he’d said with a sigh, popping the kettle on instead. “taps, radiators ‘n shower all go cold.”

you winced, but it wasn’t enough to put you off. “landlord refuses to get it sorted?”

“landlord doesn’t answer my texts or calls anymore, think he got pissy w’me after i complained about him doin’ fuck all about the single glazed windows to the council few winters back.” you pursed your lips in order to not laugh but simon saw your expression and shrugged unrepentant. “arsehole needed tellin’, di’nt he?”

“i think this place will be perfect,” you settled on saying. you looked out of the nearest window and noted the working locks; the traffic was loud outside but you’d always preferred the constant buzz to send you off to sleep, the few times you’d been camping you’d not slept a wink in the silence.

he told you about the few other residents and explained the shortcuts you could take to get to work or for the shops and by time simon had finished giving you the tour of the place - a deceptively long space towards the back, hiding its double bathroom and bedrooms - you’d noticed it had gotten dark outside. when he noticed your furtive glance however, simon offered to drive you home without a second thought.

and again, not thirty minutes later when you were about to climb out of his truck with one last deep breath of his cologne, he offered to help you move in next week.

if that works for you, he’d said.

you’d started packing as soon as you got inside.

the only issue with moving in with simon - an issue you’d only noticed after having lived together for 6 months already, an issue your friends had to point out to you - was that the dating pool in manchester suddenly seemed a little drab. a little pathetic.

“i really don’t think si has anything to do with the fact that i can’t find anyone i’m interested in when we go out anymore, i think it makes more sense that all the hot women are just no longer single now,” you’d laughed when your friend had suggested it.

sure you thought simon was insanely hot, and that opinion had only solidified after spending the last half a year with him; seeing him braless more often than not beneath his muscle shirts when he lounged around the flat on his off days, pressing closer than necessary after a shower when you tried to pass by in the hallway, working out in the living room grunting and groaning as he hit his push-up goal, sweating and stretching obscenely as you tried to keep your eyes respectfully locked on your phone or the tv.

you were well aware that simon was sexy but more importantly off limits, so you didn’t let it affect your dating life. or so you thought.

“doesn’t help that you barely come out on a night with us,” emma pouted. “even less now that you hang out with simon most evenings.”

“when was the last time you hooked up with someone? even just kissed someone?” ash asked before you could defend your lack of social life, their eyebrow raised as if to prove their point.

you sighed. it had been a while, and taking care of things by yourself wasn’t really working out too well. simon always seemed to come home just when the frustration peaked enough for you to grab your vibrator, and you knew from the girls he’d taken home in the first few months that the walls were in fact thin enough to hear everything. with gritted teeth and wet panties, you always had to put it back in your drawer and wait for another day for some ‘me time’.

quotas for no nut november were being accidentally exceeded so much so that you were heading into catholic nun absolution. it was almost mid may; you needed to find someone to break you out of your funk sooner than later. get over by getting under or whatever.

“we’re not trying to guilt you into coming out with us,” emma added kindly, wrapping her arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. “we know you don’t always like the crowd and that’s fine. but we just want you to be getting the dick or pussy that you deserve.”

you snorted and rolled your eyes. “what do you suggest then?”

emma shared a look with ash. “well…”

it hadn’t taken much more convincing from your friends to set up an account for you on tinder after that.

you spent some time on your profile, trying to find the right blend of funny but not too snarky, sexy but still approachable. it was a nightmare but the thought of getting your tits kissed and played with by someone else after almost half a year was enough to keep you on track. you just needed to focus and get it done.

——

as you walked back to your flat with ash after grabbing lunch together, you flicked through the options in your area.

“oh, she’s cute!” ash scrolled through the photos before cackling. “she’s funny too, listen, ‘if you google top places to eat out in the city, i’m the number one spot. better make your reservation quick’.”

you laughed. “oh that’s bad, si would find that funny.”

ash sent you a deadpan stare before going back to the profile. “so swiping right?”

you hummed and glanced at the phone again. “i don’t know, i don’t think she’s my type.”

“the last ten profiles ‘haven’t been your type,’ admit you’re just being picky,” ash pointed out.

“i’ve got standards is all,” you huffed. “i’m not just going to say yes to everyone.”

“she was exactly what you normally go for; strong build, blonde and funny in a dumb way according to the bio, aka you catnip,” they said. “hell, i’m surprised she’s not one of your exes.”

“fuck you,” you laughed and elbowed them. “i don’t even have a type, i don’t know why i said that.”

“oh please,” ash guffawed. “i can and will list the many attributes your exes all share if i have to.”

you sent them a scathing look and they held up their hands in defeat, a smug smile ruining their supposedly conceding pose.

“the only outlier was that weird austrian that i told you not to give the time of day to,” they continued. their face crumpled into a look of disgust, nose wrinkled and eyes pained. “could tell as soon as he opened his mouth that he doesn’t wash his dick.”

you pouted and ground your teeth in a grimace, unable to disagree on any count. he was certainly a lapse in judgement, you wouldn’t deny it.

“i’m just not feeling it, ash. i don’t want to waste her time when i don’t see the attraction. it’s not fair on her.” you shrugged and took back your phone to swipe left. “maybe my type has changed.”

ash stayed quiet a moment, looking contemplative as you both continued walking.

“ok you have a point. there’s no need to waste people’s time, but - and hear me out - everyone on there is just treading water trying to figure out who they want to fuck. she might spend a week talking to you and then ghost,” ash explained.

“great, cheers for that,” you chuffed.

“you know what i mean,” they rolled their eyes. “everyone’s figuring out if they want to go on a date or jump in bed with each other on there, you’re not wasting anyone’s time by giving them a chance. let yourself be wooed.”

“‘wooed’, i’m not looking for a mr darcy,” you joked.

“then actually give these people a shot, it’s not like they’re looking for marriage either,” ash countered. “or maybe you’ve got a specific person in mind distracting you that you’re making unfair comparisons to.”

you glared as you entered the apartment building. “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you sniffed. you opened the app up again and bit your lip before swiping right on the first five profiles that appeared, showing your friend as you did. “there, happy?”

your phone buzzed and you looked down with wide eyes as all five accounts matched you back. the app directed you to the messaging centre and you looked at ash sheepishly.

“don’t you dare unmatch them,” they warned teasingly, pointing their finger at you with squinted eyes as you waited in the elevator. “go on a few dates and be spoiled for once. if nothing else, you get a good meal and some fresh air.”

you laughed as you finally reached your floor. you unlocked the door to your flat and dropped your coat on the back of a dining chair before slumping on the sofa with ash joining a second after sans their boots and coat.

“fine, fine. i’m on here for a reason, right? i might as well give them a chance,” you agreed a little reluctantly.

“give who a chance?” simon asked as he came from the back of the flat, passing through to the kitchen.

“my lovely bestie is finally on tinder,” ash said with a sharp grin aimed at simon. “hoping to find someone to fuck out the last six months of—��

“yeah thanks, ash! feel free to shut the fuck up, i don’t think simon cares about the details of my sex life,” you interrupted, cheeks hot with embarrassment.

“no?” ash asked playing dumb. they pouted and turned back to simon. “my bad.”

you hadn’t noticed simon had grown reserved and quiet at ash’s outburst, too busy trying to save face and distract yourself with thinking of a decent opening message.

“and anyway, i’m just going a few dates first,” you corrected and looked at simon. “so don’t worry about me inviting anyone around to the flat or anything.”

simon nodded tersely before swallowing. “s’fine.” he looked shiftily over to the kitchen before moving to lean over the back of your seat, arms resting behind your head as he peered over your shoulder.

“show me,” he ordered softly. you shivered at the feel of his breath on your neck as he spoke and immediately opened the app again.

you chuffed an unimpressed laugh at the profile that popped up first. “‘want to surprise my boyfriend with a threesome for his birthday, any takers?’ jesus christ, the dating pool is so dire,” you whined.

simon chuckled behind you. “bloke looks like he’d barely be able to handle ya either, look at ‘im. he’d ruin his pants before you even took ya bra off.”

“at least i’d be able to concentrate on the girlfriend then,” you snickered along with him.

“nah, best you’d get from her is a bit o’ tongue for show,” simon said. “can tell by the profile ‘er heart’s not in it.”

you swiped left and simon was immediately ready to point out the failings of this profile too, and then again when you swiped left after laughing along, and again after that.

the way he leant over you blocked your friend from your view, but simon could see the knowing look ash was giving him directly in his peripheral, but he chose to ignore it. especially when he lowered one hand into your lap to start swiping left himself.

you let your free hand rise to play with simon’s long shirt sleeve before you suddenly took in his attire and frowned.

“why are you dressed for work?” you turned to sit on your knees facing the back of the sofa as he rose up to his full height to see him wearing his work trousers and steel-toe boots, his hi-vis vest tucked into his waistband.

“john rang, asked me to cover soap’s shift when he went home sick after lunch. i’ll be back from the lot later; might be late in the evening if i have to go grab a few things for ‘im from b&q before it closes for tomorrow,” he said, contrite.

you pouted heavy and exaggerated. “movie night’s cancelled? fuck you, john price.”

simon snorted, his scarred lip lifting at one side in obvious mirth. “i’ll tell ‘im y’said that, shall i?”

“fine with me, i’m not afraid of him,” you goaded.

“he’s ex military you know,” simon winced jokingly.

you rolled your eyes. “no duh. so are you.”

he hummed a low single note.

“and you wouldn’t let him touch a hair on my head, right si?” you continued shamelessly.

“i’d tell him there’s no point wasting time trying to teach you manners. any time i try to knock some sense into ya noggin it just echoes,” he huffed, holding back a smile as he tapped his knuckles on your crown for emphasis.

you swiped at his fist with a hiss.

“you can piss off to your job already then if you’re going to take the mick,” you laughed. you kept your hands to yourself otherwise, knowing better than to try and push him away after one too many failed attempts. his stomach was always firm enough to keep your best efforts from moving him, but topped with a thick and soft enough layer that it gave way beneath your prodding fingers and roaming palm.

“i’ll make it up t’ya. another night,” he promised lowly, bending down close again to whisper. as your pout lessened he nodded before heading out.

“wooow,” ash exaggerated and lengthened the word sarcastically as they sat watching you slump back to sit normally now that simon was gone. “it’s somehow worse than i thought.”

“hm?”

“does he always fold like a cheap suit when you flash the puppy dog eyes at him?” ash laughed.

“you’re seeing things, he literally just cancelled on me,” you argued and turned to the tv to channel surf. “are you staying for tea? think i’ve got the stuff in for a curry, could pirate that new horror with kyle gallner.”

ash rubbed at their chin. “don’t think i didn’t notice the subject change… but i’m listening.”

——

you got your movie night with si a few days later with the pair of you lounged on the couch, simon’s heavy, long legs draped across your lap as you waited for the take out you’d ordered to arrive.

your phone buzzed with a notification and simon perked up. “food here?”

you took a moment to respond, looking at your phone and tapping away for a second before shaking your head. “no, just a message.”

you phone buzzed again just before you could put it back down and you unlocked it again with a growing smile.

“oh, ‘s emma asking about dog sittin’ again?” he guessed.

“it’s not emma,” you said easily, without further detail, distracted by your phone.

before simon could ask, a knock at the door had him swinging his legs down and heading to grab the bag of food. he grabbed some cutlery from the kitchen on the way back before slumping heavily down next to you, spreading his thighs wide enough to press against yours.

he frowned when he saw you were still engrossed in your phone, a little secretive smile pulling at your lips. at the smell of the food you looked up and your eyes brightened, you put your phone back on the table and ignored it when it buzzed, helping simon instead, sitting back when you had your share and pressing play on your movie. when the phone buzzed twice more in quick succession you bit your lip and glanced at it.

“answer it,” simon said bitingly, having figured out who’d be messaging you by that point. the stupid, bloody app. “but tell ‘em you’re busy with a woman already.”

your eyes widened and you coughed out a surprised laugh. “si.”

“tell ‘em you’re not hanging out with ‘em next week either, you can’t make it. you’re busy with me instead,” he continued, the weight of his hooded gaze heavy and stifling.

“but i’m not busy, we don’t have plans next week,” you said weakly, confused.

simon huffed heavily through his nose. you’d almost think it was bordering on angry but for the entire time you’d known him, simon had never gotten angry at you, even when you accidentally shrunk his brand new sports bra on a too-hot wash.

you both tensed when your phone buzzed again.

“let me turn off my notifications,” you said and reached for the phone furtively. you skimmed your notifications and felt something bloom in your chest at the mention of a date from one of your matches, but you didn’t mention it to simon. “there we go, now we can focus on movie night,” you said with a grin, scooping another forkful of sweet & sour chicken into your mouth.

simon’s shoulders dropped and he nodded. he looked to your half empty glass and stood up. “want me to grab you another drink?”

you smiled, mouth closed and cheeks full of rice, and nodded as he chuckled. he turned away before the urge to poke your puffy cheeks won out and you accidentally spat rice out on the rug.

——

>> any new matches? 👀👀👀

you pursed your lips as you read the text from emma.

<< a few. might have a date next week

<< depends if she plays her cards right

>> lol is it the librarian or the electrician?

<< electrician. might give me mates rates if i ask her to check out the faulty leccy wiring in the flat :p

>> more like dates rates ;)

>> she was cute 😍 where’s the date?

<< she mentioned getting dinner, a new place that just opened up that she said was meant to be cool

>> the thai place? omgggg i’ve been meaning to go! give me ur review after pls and ty

>> and i mean the food, but any dirty deets are welcome too 👀👀

<< ???

<< i haven’t agreed to go yet

>> 🙄 girl…

>> what happened to giving them a chance, ash said you were on board

<< idk si was acting really weird the other day

<< he got really moody about it all, practically told me to fob it all off and just hang out with him instead

<< i think he’s worried

you had been watching a few murder documentaries lately, and one too many of them had started off as innocent dates or first meet ups that ended in tragedy.

>> i think he’s jealous

you stared at the text as your stomach flipped.

<< ???

>> he’s literallyyyy had a huge crush on u since forever

>> this is not news 😐

you scoffed but felt your stomach clench and hesitated to text back.

>> don’t believe me? just watch how he acts around you over the next few days and see if he does any of these repeatedly

emma sent a screenshot from a website listing ‘things she does if she likes you’ and you snorted. it felt trivial, like you were a teenager again, but you decided to play along.

<< fine. but he won’t.

you sent your quick affirmative back before putting your phone down and finishing your break.

the idea of simon liking you was an impossible one in your mind. simon had brought home women from the moment you’d moved in, it had never been a deterrent and he’d always said you were welcome to do the same as long as they didn’t stick around when he had a day off.

recently though, you thought, there’d been less and less women traipsing out of si’s room giggling and flushed, staring adoringly up at the tall butch woman. sadly, you knew exactly how good simon was in bed from the enthusiastic sounds of his previous partners over the months, so you couldn’t blame them for tripping over their feet as they were ushered towards the exit, an eager ‘call me, yeah?’ breathed out just before the door was closed forever.

that was another reason you’d never made a move. even if sometimes there had been moments where you had thought simon’s gaze lingered too long or his touch couldn’t be excused as just friendly; you couldn’t take being a one night stand. not with him, and not when you’d have to move out when your feelings inevitably bubbled over.

you bit your lip as you cooked that evening. simon was chopping the veg for your bolognese as you were left to watch over the pasta - last time you’d burnt it when you’d turned away and gotten distracted and you refused to let simon hold that over you for any longer.

“you know i can go stay at ash’s or with emma and her partner for a day or two if you want,” you offered out of the blue.

simon stopped cutting and looked at you.

“why the fuck would i want tha’?”

you swallowed. “i just noticed you haven’t had many people ‘round recently and thought maybe it was because i was home,” you said, barely meeting his eyes. “so i can make myself sparse for a few days, it’s no bother. i don’t mind.”

“i had johnny over just the other day,” simon said as though you might have forgotten. the boisterous scot had managed to fondly wiggle his way into gaining your friendship the few times he’d popped by for simon. “and gaz and the lads are all coming by next week. y’dont need t’ leave.” he went back to chopping though much more forcefully now, the chopping board dully thumping with each downward cut he made through the courgette.

“yeah… but what about other visitors?” you hedged. “the walls are thin, si, so i thought maybe you’d want the place to yourself again temporarily so you can—“

“no. i don’t want the place to m’self. i like havin’ you here, like hearing you move around in the night and in the mornings,” he interrupted without looking up. “you stay.” he paused for a moment, doubting himself even as you nodded along. “unless you want to go?”

“god no! no, i just thought i should offer,” you laughed a little awkwardly.

he frowned deeper.

“do you want me to go?”

you paused, you mouth flapping like a fish. this was an option you’d not considered. you noticed simon’s eyes grow more and more desperate, his grip on the veg in front of him tightening as he waited for your response.

“no. never, si,” you said.

he watched you a moment more before nodding. “good. wouldn’t have anyway.”

you snorted a laugh and looked back to the spaghetti, hissing when you saw it had stuck to the bottom of the pan. “shit.”

“…tell me you haven’t managed to burn it a second time.”

——

your conversation with simon reminded you of the article emma had sent you. it took less than a week to notice how differently simon acted with others in comparison to how considerate he was with you.

he made the effort to hold eye contact at the start of your conversations, and if you ever paused too long in your reply his eyes would flicker back up from where they’d drifted to his food or phone to check why. you’d never doubted he was always listening, but seeing it first hand reassured you that he was without fail. and it only highlighted, now that you looked for it, how closely he kept to himself when strangers tried to pick up a conversation with him, how he used as few words as possible on the off chance he did reply.

you wouldn’t hesitate to consider simon tactile, soft-handed and gentle. but you knew that was a privilege. the same with his smiles, spotted in flash of crooked teeth or the slow crinkle of his dark eyes paired with the pull of his scar on the occasion he wore his mask.

at your realisation, you began to check the list religiously each night in the safety of your bed as though trying to convince yourself that you hadn’t noticed the way simon mirrored your own behaviour. how he’d lean opposite you in the small kitchen, tilting his head a second after yours as you complained about work, boiling the kettle for a cuppa after a long day.

you’d pretend not to notice him on the phone twenty minutes later, cancelling going out with his friends, again, so he could stay with you while you relax for the weekend.

you found he’d swapped the brand of peanut butter you usually bought after the last one gave you a tummy ache without mentioning it, he’d asked about your grandad’s birthday even though you’d brought it up offhandedly weeks before, he let you run your hands through his hair near his scar when he napped on the sofa. the list went on.

but you’d already agreed to that date with the electrician.

——

“i don’t know if i’ve come down with something, my stomachs not right. i don’t think think i should go,” you complained as you got ready for your date, your phone propped up on your dresser with ash and emma’s faces on screen as you video called. “i feel queasy.”

“that’s just the nerves, you’ll be ok once you get there,” emma soothed.

“want us to meet you afterwards?” ash asked.

“maybe, yeah,” you hummed. “or maybe call me an hour in just in case it isn’t going well so i can have an excuse to leave?”

“how does ‘your long lost brother just woke from a coma and you’re the only one he remembers’ sound?” ash asked.

“dramatic enough for me to make my escape,” you laughed.

“you won’t need it,” emma reassured. “you’ll be too busy flirting and fawning over her muscles to even answer the phone.”

you laughed harder and the ache in your stomach faded ever so slightly as you pulled on your shoes and got ready to leave. simon was still at work, pulling some extra hours to get the job back on schedule after johnny’s time off, which meant the flat was empty as you left.

you bit your lip and headed to the restaurant, waving shyly from the entrance when you saw jessi, the electrician, already seated and waiting on you.

“hey, been here long?” you asked as you took your seat.

“barely five minutes,” she reassured you with an easy smile. “you look stunning, by the way. worth the wait.”

you thanked her, and took in her styled hair and half unbuttoned dress shirt from across the table. you felt a little underdressed in comparison but hid your insecurity when you smiled at her across the table.

“are you always this shy?” she asked when you stayed silent a beat too long, her grin turning sly and teasing.

you laughed a little self depreciatingly and shrugged. “it’s been a little while since i went on a date,” you admitted, butterflies starting to flutter at her sharp gaze.

“i’ll go easy on you then,” she promised and winked before handing you a menu. “what looks good to you?”

——

you’d thought the date was going fine, good, even. the thought of leaving hadn’t crossed your mind and when emma had called you’d screened it and smiled at the winky face she’d sent a moment later.

jessi was fun to talk to; her humour was maybe a little more forced than what you liked but it wasn’t a deal breaker. you’d thought she was enjoying herself too given the flirtatious comments, the lingering looks and how her ankle kept brushing yours.

but just before you could suggest ordering desserts, she stood and grabbed her coat.

“this has been…” she trailed off. “maybe you’re not ready for dating, you know?”

she’d dropped a few twenty notes on the table and left before you could ask what the fuck that meant.

you called over the waiter, covered the rest of the bill and made your own downtrodden exit soon after, dessert suddenly not seeming so appetising.

“tell me you’re going to her house to stay the night and that this is a safety call,” ash said as soon as they answered.

you huffed a sarcastic laugh. “nope.” you popped the ‘p’ and scuffed your toe along the pavement as you walked.

“fuck, this isn’t a good sign then. no dessert?” you heard emma mumble in the background.

“put me on speaker if you two are still hanging out,” you said and hugged your thin jacket tighter with your free arm as you started heading down the dark street towards your apartment.

“how’d it go?” emma asked a moment later.

“i thought it was going good,” you whined. “she was nice, we were chatting, i was engaging! but she just… left?”

“what were you chatting about?” ash asked.

“just the basics; work, friends, hobbies, roommates,” you listed.

“oh god,” emma groaned on the other end of the line. you heard her voice become muffled as though her face was in a pillow as she grumbled, “you didn’t.”

“what?” you asked with a frown. “it was good, she was being flirty.”

“yeah no shit, it was a date,” ash snorted. “how many times did simon come up?”

“don’t start this again—“

“because you were literally talking about him other day when we walked by a black and white cat just because it had little ‘socks’ and it reminded you to do laundry when you got back.”

“i promised to do simon’s while he’s been picking up extra hours,” you defended yourself. “he literally had to walk around shirtless the other week when i forgot to add them in for him.”

“oh, the grown woman who can and often does do his own washing just had to walk around with just a flimsy little sports bra and boxers on all day? sure, sure.” you could practically hear ash roll their eyes. emma snickered in the background and there was a slight shuffling which was never a good sign. “yep, here it is. and i quote ‘the way he’s built… like a damn chew toy. need to sink my teeth in to him, it’s like my jaw buzzes every time i see him with the urge to clamp down on his bicep.’ those are your texts to our group chat from that same day.”

“the texts i send when im ovulating should never be repeated out loud,” you hissed. “and do we really need more evidence that he’s synonymous with my wet dreams now, i’ve already admitted that i like him.”

“so you know this is a safe space,” ash said facetiously. “answer the question: how many times do you think you managed to bring him up in conversation?”

you chewed your cheek in frustration. ash would know if you lied but thinking back on it you didn’t really want to admit how many times you managed to bring up simon for your own dignity.

“look they had the same boots on, ok? and when she talked about her work it was the only way i could try to relate if i told her how simon had mentioned the same things,” you reasoned.

ash cackled on the other end of the phone and suddenly emma was talking while their laughter grew faded.

“have you looked at that list i sent you?” she asked, her tone oddly low and sobering.

“yeah, i can’t stop thinking about it,” you huffed. you paused to cross the street. “but it feels like i’m just making them up because i like him and he’s just being a normal roommate.”

“you’re not and he’s definitely not,” emma chuffed. “and i think you know that too.”

you were silent as you walked, your steps slow and careful even as the bitter cold wind snapped at your cheeks.

“he likes me?” you asked softly.

“no duh,” ash’s voice rang from the background making you laugh. they got closer and you could picture your friends crammed on emma’s shitty little couch as they spoke to you. “why do you think he’s always walking around flexing his muscles like that, huh? we’re in manchester, i don’t care if it’s almost summer, it’s not bloody warm enough for it!”

“and simon has you as his lock screen,” emma added like a 1-2 punch before you had chance to try and explain any of it away. “he always cancels on his mates to see you instead, and don’t get me started on how touchy he is with you.”

“he’s tactile…” even as you said it you didn’t believe it. though you couldn’t keep count of how many times this week alone si had let a warm hand land on your shoulder, knee, back, wrist, neck; you knew he barely touched anyone else.

"girl. simon?" emma snorted probably thinking the same thing as you.

“he likes me,” you said more confidently into the phone.

“oh thank fuck, she’s finally caught on,” ash said as emma laughed.

“i could literally be swapping spit with him right now and instead i’ve just wasted like two hours on a shitty date, oh my god,” you bemoaned.

you don’t know when you’d stopped walking but in a second you were speeding up to a jog as you said goodbye to your friends and hung up, fumbling to put your phone in you bag. eager to get back home and to see simon.

——

you crammed your key into the front door’s lock when you got home and groaned exaggeratedly when it didn’t turn. simon must’ve left his key in the door, again. of all the bloody times.

you knocked hurriedly, loudly, impatiently.

“siiiimon, open the door, come on i’m cold out here, you wouldn’t leave me shivering and lonely just because you forgot to put your key on the keyhook i specifically bought for—“ you cut off your joking whine when the most stunningly beautiful woman you’d ever seen opened the door to you, a knowing smile on her plush lips.

“oh,” you croaked. almost reflexively, your throat closed up and your eyes started to sting. “i must have the wrong flat.”

“what? no, you’re—” her smile dropped slightly and her dark eyes grew curious, but you didn’t stick around long enough to see.

“sorry, my fault! i’m meant to be on the floor above,” you rushed out and pretended to laugh. “silly me. sorry again.” tucking tail you turned to the fire exit at the top of the small staircase without waiting for a reply.

you knew the short staircase lead to the roof, simon had shown you one time and there were enough signs pointing it out. on the other side of the door was a small, flat balcony that stuck out of the slanted roof, and had old metal ladders that dropped 3/4 of the way down along the side of the building, in between the detached restaurant next door.

given you were the top flat in this little rinkydink building the woman at your door had probably thought you were an idiot and you couldn’t blame her. you decided to stick it out for ten minutes outside before sneaking back down and heading over to emma’s with your heart in your hands ready to be mended with the power of friendship and alcohol and food.

you sat down on the shitty little balcony and groaned loudly, desperately holding back your tears lest you fell into a despair and ended up accidentally falling asleep out of exhaustion and dramatics up there instead.

you’d finally realised your feelings and it was too late; simon had clearly taken your previous offers on board and moved on. you’d given him a free night while you went on a stupid date, what else was he going to do since you’ve been continually - though not purposely - pushing him aside like he was disposable.

“fuck,” you sighed shakily.

“date that bad you’re thinking of jumping?”

you swore in surprise and span in your spot to see simon leant in the fire exit doorway.

you couldn’t help but huff a weak laugh. “yeah it was,” you said before looking back down to your hands. “sorry, i didn’t know you were busy or i’d have gone to a friend’s instead.”

simon frowned and stood up straight. “stop saying you want to go somewhere else,” he said stiffly, swallowing thickly before taking the few steps to sit next to you. “when i’m here.” he knocked your shoulders together. “gaz said you freaked out at the door?”

you looked up at him in confusion. “gaz? that was ky— she’s called kylie, not kyle isn’t she?” you asked with wide eyes. simon’s accent had hidden her real name and convinced you all his mates were men and you’d never thought to second guess it. “christ, i thought she was— never mind.”

simon tilted his head as a knowing smile grew on his face.

“you thought i’d brought someone round for a shag?”

“well, she’s very fucking gorgeous,” you said defensively, crossing your arms. he leant his weight further into your side.

“mm. haven’t noticed.” at your unimpressed look he shrugged. “got my eye on someone else, ‘aven’t i?”

you nodded but avoided his eyes. seeing an unknown woman answer your door - gaz or not - had knocked your confidence more than you’d have liked to admit.

simon snorted.

“talk t’me, thought i was meant to be the quiet, brooding one.”

you looked across at him for a moment before leaning in to hug him tightly. you let the scent of his aftershave soak in and sighed when his own arms automatically wrapped around you too.

“you’re an amazing friend, si,” you whispered. and with how close you were pressed together, you easily felt how he stiffened at the title. you squeezed him harder in response, garnering yourself some more confidence at the same time, and sucked in a cold breath to speak. “and i think i’m a little bit in love with you.”

you felt a whoosh of air against your neck as the breath left simon’s body; he went loose in your hold and you buried your head deeper into his shoulder.

he tried to catch your eyes, ducking his head as best he could, but you’d thoroughly tucked yourself in against him as you felt a stinging heat spread from your cheeks outwards, your heart kicking its way through your chest and likely thumping noticeably against his own.

with gentle and patient cajoling, he managed to nudge you back up to face him and you offered up a wobbly smile.

“are you serious?” he asked breathlessly.

you nodded. “i’m sorry it took me so long to reali—“

simon coughed out a wet and surprised laugh and pulled you in for a kiss, his scar catching against your dry lips before you were able to slip your tongue out to wet them briefly. his hands were firm as they cupped your round cheeks, not letting you break for a breath until the very last second, determined to take all he could get before it came crashing down on him.

“y’r an idiot, so fuckin into ya. been a nightmare living with you, unable t’touch,” he mumbled against your lips and suddenly it was your turn to laugh into the kiss.

“unable? all you do is touch me,” you giggled, gasping when he took the chance to flick his tongue against yours.

“yeah?”

“yeah,” you huffed. “drives me mad, si.”

“only gonna get worse here on,” he promised. “never taking my hands off ya, off your fat arse and soft tits.”

you sucked in a shaky breath. “fuck.” you’d be dripping like a tap at all times if that was the case and going by simon’s smirk, he knew it.

“i’ve had to deal with your dumb mate fucking teasing me about liking ya for months now too,” he grumbled.

“they’re not dumb.” you leant in to bite his lip meanly. “and i’m sure your friends will be teasing me for what just happened too, never mind me being so blind to be on dating apps while we were practically already together.”

simon groaned. “i fucking hated those apps.”

you kissed him sweetly in apology, a soft peck to the lips then each cheek as he greedily chased your lips.

“they’re gone now. my date was ruined because i could only talk about you the whole time. all i want is you.”

“yeah?” his eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them as he tugged your jacket openand slid a hand under your shirt. his rough fingertips teased at the thin material of your bra and your nipples stood to attention under his ministrations and from the chill of fresh air biting at your tummy, bared when his arm rumpled your shirt. “want me right now?”

“always,” you panted. “but…”

you furtively glanced to the door.

“no one comes up here. i can be quick.”

“your friends are waiting,” you reminded him.

“fuck my friends,” he scoffed and tweaked at a nipple, grinning at the squeak you let out.

“would rather fuck you,” you joked weakly even as he pulled his hand back to pluck at your jean’s button and zipper.

“then what are we waiting for?” he asked.

you moaned and gasped when he slipped his hand down the front gusset of your jeans and into your panties before you gained the cognisance to pull it back out with a groan. “later, later,” you promised. “wanna get you naked.”

simon stared at you for a second and you worried he was annoyed at you for putting your foot down. he nodded however, licked his lips as he glanced back to the door and then dipped down to kiss you lightly.

“i’m kicking the lads out then, gimme five.” he stood and took few broad strides to get back to the stairs inside.

you laughed and called after him as he darted back down, taking two at a time as you followed with a grin, struggling with your jeans. “si, don’t be daft.”

“smartest move i’ve made in a long time.” he said as he walked back in to your flat. “everyone out. want some time wiv my girl.”

“ayy congrats!” soap called from the couch.

“that means now, soap.”

“don’t hafta tell us twice,” the scot stood with a slap to his knees and saluted simon on his way out. “ye coming, ky?”

“it was nice meeting ya,” gaz said as she wandered past, winking. you hid your hot cheeks in your shoulders but couldn’t help the flustered grin that spread as simon barely waited for the door to be closed before shedding his shirt, leaving him in a sports bra and his baggy trackies.

“get comfy. not letting ya leave til i’ve had m’fill.”

“funny you think it won’t be me dragging you back for more. let’s see if you can keep up, si. i’ve been told i’m pretty demanding.”

“always loved a challenge.”

you grinned wickedly. “come and get me then.”

butch/stud masterlist

updated mood board below (kept working on it after seeing kitty’s absolutely fantastic oc mood board and felt inspired by them!)

#BWUH IF U SEE THIS I HOPE U ENJOY FELLOW BUTCH SI LOVER #i was thinking of ur butch art when i said reader ruined simon’s sports bra lmaoooo like let the girls go free simon please!!!#this is so self indulgent but i loved it. like we’re sooo back you guys #of course the title is inspired by a raleigh ritchie song bc i’m obsessed like that #oh EXPECT more of butch simon from here on out #bc this might be the only way i want to fuck him lmaoooo #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #fem ghost #butch ghost #fem simon riley #female simon riley #female ghost #think that’s covered all the tags #female reader #fat reader #butch x reader

444 notes · View notes

velvetures · 2 years ago

Text

Vulnerable pt.1?

A/N: A not-so-little thing I've had for a few weeks, and wanted to see if a part two was something anyone would be interested in reading. If so, please let me know. Summary: You try and get Ghost to relax after a harsh mission and find a bit of a quiet moment. T/W: not proofread :)

Bad intel led to you and your Lieutenant being nearly hunted down and killed by a not-so-small group of arms dealers who caught on quickly to the pair of foreigners lingering just a little bit too close to their sheltered storage garage right in the middle of a market district in the South East. The task force assumed sending in an entire squad would be overkill just for some simple recon information and decided that you and Ghost would be the perfect pair for the job. ��In and Out…’ Price had said quite offhandedly, sliding the prepared information in two files across the table to you. Only Price’s sources hadn’t double-checked if the area was secure enough for them to enter without full backup on standby. Not necessarily a lethal kind of mistake when bringing you and the Lieutenant into the equation, but there were too many close calls and stray bullets that were clearly heard for either of you to feel super confident in getting away unscathed.

Your only savior was a small farmhouse that had been recently abandoned due to the illegal and dangerous activity that had been surrounding the small city. Modest in size with two bedrooms and running water. Perfect for a makeshift safe house to keep the trackers off your asses until an extraction could be arranged and put into motion. Contrary to belief, the 141 didn’t have the bottomless pit of resources everyone believed they had at their disposal. Which included access to evac and trained air-support teams. This wasn’t a big mission that had a lot of working parts and multiple organizations involved that had enough liquidated funds to through out for a helo and heavy gunners to rescue two operators from the middle of who-the-fuck-knows-where.

That means with busted equipment, inoperable comms, hardly enough ammunition to fight out of a wet paper bag, and zero way of knowing when and if you’d be rescued, there was nothing left to do but try and relax in one of the most difficult predicaments. It left you searching through cabinets for maybe some kind of food to keep the both of you while Ghost did one of his favorite things. Pacing the house from window to window looking for the slightest bit of movement. The trouble being, there wasn’t anything for at least two miles in any direction. The people who owned this place were farmers of some sort, and had placed their home right in the middle of crop fields that gave a very advantageous sightline. While that information gave you quite a bit of comfort, it was not effecting Ghost positively in the slightest.

Your relationship with the Lieutenant was complex, to say the least. When you were first introduced it was for a succession of short co-op missions that were nothing if not brief and very impersonal leaving you with more questions than answers about the man who stayed hidden under the mask. Through some talks that you hadn’t been privy to being in the room for, John Price decided that your skills would be more useful to Task Force 141 than for the U.S. Division of Clandestine Service and offered you a position that you couldn’t possibly decline.

By day-in and day-out contact with Ghost, you got a lot more comfortable with him and learned much of his little idiosyncratic behaviors. Maybe a little too well…. He didn’t particularly act much differently towards you in the grand scheme of things, but something in you felt like trust had been developed to where he could depend on you when the situation called for it.

“Go hit the rack, I’ll take first watch.” He called gruffly from the living room where he had moved a chair from the kitchen to sit facing the front door head on with his MP5 resting lazily on his chest.

You couldn’t help but notice just how damn tired he looked under all that gear and through the black smeared around his eyes. He couldn’t be carrying less than one hundred pounds on him right now; even sitting in that chair with it wasn’t a good enough solution. Let you take a moment or two for yourself, stripping out of your tac vest and heavily weighted gear to drop it on top of the kitchen counter with a little grunt. Two days ago you both got the luxury of sleeping, and since then it’s been nothing but being on the run.

This would be the safest place for you that wasn’t in the belly of an evac bird, and the thought of Ghost not taking the time to sleep sat in your mind like a lead sinker. Leaning against the doorway and watching him for a long moment, you start having thoughts. Dangerous thoughts. Ones that normally wouldn’t surface if you’d been able to separate working with Ghost from the more personal aspect of literally sharing almost every part of your life with him. Thoughts about how you could make him feel better… even if just for the night. That no one was around for miles and whatever happened could safely stay between the pair of you.

By utter carelessness of your position with the team or lack of fear about how the Lieutenant might respond, you walk into the living room and kneel down right in front of him with your fingers reaching out to unlace his dusty boots. Off instinct alone, you expected and watched as his foot flinched away from you. His whole body jumps and stiffens at the contact and sight of you kneeling on the floor. He quickly pauses and collects himself, taking several moments before his gravelly voice breaks the silence.

“What’re you doin’ Sergeant?” His eyes grew heavy and showed more expression than the rest of his massive body as they flashed with confusion and a little swell of anger. That aloofness didn’t hide that slight guardedness of something that made him uncomfortable in one way or another.

“I’m perfectly capable of takin’ care of my fuckin’ self.” He adds with zero discernible sign of either offense or gratitude. You can’t help but smile tiredly, feeling like you’re attempting to soothe a feral wolf into letting you pull it’s paw out of trap.

“I never said you couldn’t L.T.,” You reply gently, reaching back to start unhooking the laces from their claws on his left foot. “Just thought you couldn’t use some affection.” Smirking to yourself, you can’t help but think something this small being considered ‘affection’ didn’t fit anyone save for Ghost. He was just too hard to approach. Walls so thick and tall that it would take someone with patience beyond that of a human to break through and see what rested behind all of that brash posturing and icy disposition.

“You know affection is something I’m averse to,” he utters, watching yet making no effort to stop you. “What you’re doin’ is unnecessary.” A small sound close to a growl escapes from behind the mask when my hand reaches to the back of his leg to help aid my effort of pulling his boot off.

Chuckling softly and sitting the boot down at your side you respond, “I know you don’t like affection,” You’re already working on the other one, purposefully moving slowly as not to overwhelm or spook him. “That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it, L.T..” You can’t help but look up at him almost exhaustedly yet still trying to be reassuring.

“M’fine without it.” He spits out quickly, looking away from your face back down to your progress on the laces, his masked face otherwise unreadable. “Didn’t ask you for this shit, Sergeant.” Tinged with an undercurrent of irritation his deep voice sounds near the bridge of turning to anger.

“Mothering me isn’t in your best interest.” He growls low and threateningly in your face as he bends down to grab the boot sitting next to you and giving it a quick look of observation before sitting it back down closer to him. You just finish taking off his other boot and sit it down next to the other without much more of a verbal fight and put a hand on his thigh to steady your sore legs as you get back up to your feet.

“I’m younger than you Ghost, I can’t mother you.” You reply, holding out your hand for him.

He doesn’t make note or stop you from using him to help yourself up, however, Ghost follows your movements carefully… closely. He’s doing everything in his power to hide his emotions, but there’s still a faint twitch of his lips when he looks down at his boots sitting at his side. You’d done something very unusual, and he knew berating you was what he should’ve done. Yet a flinch of a smile was what really moved Ghost’s mouth. It’s gone before it even surfaces, pushed down by the sight. of you holding out your little hand in front of him. The sounds of his deep breathing fill the quiet house as you both sit there unflinching of each other. The Lieutenant shifts in his chair, readjusting his rifle on his chest.

“Go to bed. It’s late.” His repeated command felt softer now. Wavering a bit with you hand still held out and your fingers wiggling a little.

“Come on,” You hold steady and patient.

Reward comes in the form of feeling Ghost’s heavy and large hand falling into yours and gripping just hard enough to allow you the phantom sensation that you’re actually helping him up from the chair, hearing a short grunt as his back straightens up. Without explanation, you lead the Lieutenant through the small house back towards the only bedroom in the house with an actual bed left behind by the owners, pulling him to the center of the room and turning around to face him.

“Put your arms up for me.”

“Excuse me?” Ghost’s frown can be heard from behind the mask. Despite his apparent bewilderment, he hesitantly obeys, extending his arms above his head with an exhale of a tense breath, looking down at you with dark and questioning eyes. “What are you doing now?”

You just smile and hum to yourself softly, reaching out to begin unclipping and unzipping the sections of his tac vest holding it on his upper body and the multiple ammo belts. Carefully draping them over you shoulder as you release his body from them one by one. Seeing the way Ghost’s body sinks into itself with the weight being pulled off after days without rest. You feel his eyes scan over you, over your hands finding ways to take off his gear for the first time in your life, feeling your way through sunch an unusual yet careful act.

“Bein’ fuckin’ ridiculous…” He growls, covering up the feelings of not being so concealed by barking at you a little.

“Shhh.” Your hush does enough to stop his quiet and brooding complaints.

Long enough for you to kneel back down at his feet and work at the thigh straps over his pants and even remove the ankle holster you’d left alone while taking off his boots. He doesn’t resist this part, just watching you undress him bit by bit with half a mind questioning just what had happened for you to start acting so strangely. You’d always been sweet. Much nicer than your job allowed for. Yet even this was quite off the edge of the character Ghost had built for you over the years. This felt downright intimate for just two operators to be doing.

Then again your shared situation wasn’t exactly one of professionalism at this point. You’d been improvising for nearly a full day just trying to stay alive. Once back on your feet, you take hold of his hand again, this time with a little less caution since you’d already touched him there, and begin pulling at the fingertips to slide his sand and dirt-cakes gloves off. Even seeing his bare skin under his gloves be seen in the dim lamplight of the house, Ghost doesn’t do more than flex his fingers once you’ve rid him of the stiff material.

Purposefully avoiding his mask, you get Ghost down to nothing more than boxers and a t-shirt, even with his help at certain parts without him growling more or acting like you were irritating him. While he still gave off a feeling of all-around grumpiness and more than a little confused as hell, you paid it no mind as you led him towards the edge of the bed and pointed to it with a short yet polite command for him to ’sit’. Right away you noticed his hesitation and the way that his shoulders and arms tensed, his attention solely on you, flashing between your eyes and mouth like he was trying to reassure himself that he’d heard you correctly. But with one small tug on his hand, he turns around and sits on the bed with his feet resting on the floor and his arms braced on both sides of him a little stiffly.

“Now what?” His voice held a bit of rasp to it as he tracked your movement from his side, seeing you climb up into the bed and position yourself on your knees behind him. The close proximity didn’t go unnoticed by the Lieutenant as he cleared his throat, once again interrupting the calm silence in the house. His tension filled the small space between you, heating the gap of air, almost electrifying it.

“Just relax Ghost.” Easily touching his shoulders, you begin working your palms flat against the slopes of his muscled neck.

Purposefully but gently rubbing at the stiff cords of muscle and introducing the sensation to him as easily as possible in the case that it was a bit too overwhelming for him all at once. You knew you’d pushed the boundaries with him much further past anything you’d expected to achieve in one night. But now that he was sitting here in front of you, it was hard not to smile brightly that he was trusting you so much. Allowing your hands to be on him. Accepting that you had positioned the both of you in a very vulnerable position that could lead to a lot more violent options than affectionate ones. Torture and nightmares had given more than a fair share to Ghost, yet he was patiently staving off his own clear hesitation so that you could play out whatever this was turning out to be.

Your command went unacknowledged just like all of Ghost’s from earlier had; His breathing steadily slowing down into a deep and rich, relaxed sort of rhythm. Power of your hands and calming attitude worked faster than you anticipated, leaving the massive man sitting between your thighs begin to release. Tension falling out of his body not only under your hands but by sight of his jaw loosening. You’re even lucky enough to spot him trying to take glances at you from the corner of his eye, only to look back ahead since you were in quite the blindspot. Taking your thumbs in a sweeping motion from the edges of his shoulders inward, you apply pressure on the back of his neck and experimentally reach higher up under the hem of his mask. A dangerous game to play. Rumbling sounds of appreciation filling your ears are better than any sort of medal you could earn or bet you’d ever cash in. His head rolls back slightly with each small circle of your thumbs and fingers, pushing against you. Silently asking for more pressure.

“Feel good?” You ask at just a whisper, not wanting to disturb the warm sort of feeling the room has right now by speaking too loud.

Under the safety of his mask, Ghost’s mouth curves into a smile hearing you. He rolls his head back again, arching slightly to accommodate your small hands struggling to find good purchase to keep working at the intensity he’d been hinting at. A much less controllable sound escapes his mouth when you begin working at a very sore spot he didn’t even know was present right at the base of his skull.

“Keep going,” His sleepy-sounding mutter makes your chest ache.

Grinning at the feeling of his harsh accent and sudden domestication you work away diligently down his back carefully and methodically so as to not miss a single thing. And while it’s not necessarily going to help him much, you go ahead and use your fingernails to gently scratch up and down. It’s then a groan interrupts your focus and you see Ghost shift on the edge of the bed. Believing you’d found the end of your time, you leaned back on your heels and expected him to get up and leave you in the bedroom alone. Watching him tug at his t-shirt and pull it over his head to toss it somewhere across the room was how you were told that Ghost did indeed want more. Only his shirt was getting in the way of something he wasn’t getting.

Hearing him give a deep sigh when your fingertips returned to his now bared skin gave you a rush of adrenaline and nearly caused you to wiggle happily that you’d been able to share this with Ghost. He leans back into you a little more, letting your hands and arms take more of the weight as he groans out;

“You’ve done this before.”

“Yeah, but not for a long time.” You answer, eyes smoothing over the muscles rippling as your hands work at them.

“You’re good,” He grunts, closing his eyes and zeroing in on how to focus his attention between your small hands working so efficiently and the conversation he’d begun. “How’d you get so good at it?” His head turns a little, trying to get at least one good look at you. He keeps shifting now, allowing him to keep you just in the edge of his periphery.

“Had a good teacher for a few years,” You answer, working in tight circles over a large ball of muscle fibers all collected just at the edge of his shoulder blade, earning another growling sound from the Lieutenant.

“Teacher? When?” He asks, giving a slow release of a deep breath giving a short indication that the muscle you’d been working to release was getting a bit uncomfortable. Pulling back for a moment just to give him and your hands a break, you hear him make a noise then lean back a little further, pressing his back against you almost like a dog wanting to be pet more.

“Don’t stop.” He requests in a husky tone. You chuckle aloud, returning your hands and taking a less aggressive approach by smoothing your palms over him in less-than-planned patterns, just enjoying feeling his tattooed and scarred skin under your hands as you think about how to answer him.

“A woman in London taught me,” you start, using your nails again on his skin softly. “In the year or so between my U.S. military discharge and acceptance into the task force with you.” You see the effect of your touch on Ghost as it takes him longer to respond and the way he keeps leaning more and more weight back into you, unable to keep himself from subconsciously trying to get closer. Wanting more whether he’d ever admit it or not. There’s no mistaking it between either of you, he’s enjoying this.

“I assume she was special to you.”

It was your neighbor just across the hallway from you. An older woman named Sarah. Eccentric in modern times, you’d always believed she must’ve been a force to be reckoned with when she wasn’t hindered by an aging body and an even more ailing mind. A massage therapist by trade, and a pianist by heart there wasn’t much that Sarah could accomplish without someone helping her once she became limited in movement living on the eighth floor of the apartment building you shared. Back then you didn’t have much in the way of contacts after leaving the country, and it led to a friendship with the old woman living across from you. Sharing stories, eating dinner together, grocery shopping together when she felt like going out, and trading some skills between each other. After telling Ghost this much with your fingers tracing out letters and shapes over his back, you can sense he’s listening carefully. And Ghost is feeling a slight fuzzy sensation building in the back of his brain, spreading out in a warm wave down to his fingertips and toes.

“She taught me massage since at the time I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with my life.” Your head falls to the side, examining how the lamplight shines on ghost and deepens the already significant definition in his physique.

Ghost falls against you even more, and this time he lets his head fall back against you. Trying to counterbalance his weight and keep both of you from falling backwards with just him limp he’s becoming, you wrap on arm around his neck and hold his head in the bend of your arm. He gives another sigh, and settles against you heavily. He. looks at you in silence out of the corner of his eye listening to your explanation.

“Why was she your only friend?” You can’t help but chuckle at his question, resting your chin on his opposite shoulder and bringing your other arm under his to begin scratching and rubbing at his chest, feeling deep and puckered scars littering nearly every inch of him.

“I didn’t know anyone else. And you know me well enough to know that I’m not exactly extroverted.” You smile, tracing lightly up and down his well-defined arm. Ghost couldn’t be more comfortable laid against you.

“Sorry to hear that.” His voice low and husky with his mouth so close to your ear. “She must call or ask about you…”

You shake your head. “No. She died just before I joined you all. Her mind was… failing her. And there was some kind of accident in the middle of the night The police told me she was likely trying to get to the bathroom and fell. She apparently died on impact… they didn’t say what, but I think her head hit something.” You explain quietly. “And you and I both know that means lights out. So she didn’t suffer.”

“Sorry to hear that,” he answers as softly as he can manage after hearing the darker part of your happy memories. “How did it become… intimate, like this?” He asks, nodding to the way you were leaned up against his back with your hand tracing over every inch of him that you could reach. The longer you’ve both let this go, the more boundaries get pushed further out of reach, making it hard for either of you to really know where it could end.

You smile with a blush creeping up your neck onto your cheeks, thankful you’re somewhat hidden out of sight. “This isn’t really what she taught me,” You mutter a bit quiet. “When i was massaging you… yes. That I got taught. But this, it’s… just me.”

Out of your sight Ghost’s face flushes slightly as well, his cheeks a warm rose-color. You’re touching him in a way that he’d never expected. But hearing that you’re not just doing it for… relaxation, it’s a heavy but welcome thought. And Ghost can’t help that his body reacts to it with chills raising all over his skin despite the house being perfectly warm. He lets out a deep breath focusing on your words, repeating him over just to ensure that you’re not saying it one way and him interpreting it differently due to your hands being all over him, making him feel so good. Mind racing, heart pounding, he truly realizes just how vulnerable he is under you at this moment.

“I can stop if you’d like?” You offer, preparing to move away from him.

“No,” His hoarse voice gives away his sudden dry mouth. No matter how much your touch is affecting his body, he’s not willing to stop you right now. You’ve crossed into a level of trust that he can’t think to make you abide by anymore. It’s a foreign feeling for him, but he wants to push through it. Hoping he can feel more of you if he just holds on a little longer to this.

“Don’t stop."

Comments & Reblogs are Appreciated <3

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #velvetures writes #velvetures

1K notes · View notes

gyubakeries · 2 months ago

Text

❆ 𝐠𝐲𝐮𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 : 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐬! ❆ | 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐮 - 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 <𝟑

❆ 𝑑𝑎𝑦 7: christmas playlist | l.jh

a/n: welcome to day 7! this one took me the longest to write, because i wasn't sure of how i wanted it to go, but i hope you like it nonetheless!

word count: 894 contents: jihoon x gn!reader , established relationship , producer!jihoon , fluff, making playlists , dancing , reader's love language is streaming jihoon's music , short and sweet

you've spent the entire day cleaning.

after the week-long break you had devoted to deep-cleaning your entire flat almost six months ago, you decided that it was time for a deep-clean before christmas as well.

from changing the curtains, vacuuming the floor, dusting your giant bookshelf, and clearing out all sorts of junk from your storage room, you busied yourself with making sure your house was spick and span.

around eight in the evening, when you were finally done with all of your tasks and you settled on the couch to relax, you realize that you missed something fundamental.

a christmas playlist.

as if on cue, the front door swings open, and jihoon walks in. he sets his gym bag down by the door and heads over to you to kiss you.

"hi baby, did you change out the curtains?" he mumbles, and you smile against his lips.

"i did! i didn't think you'd notice it," you tease, and jihoon sighs, reminded of the time you'd dyed your hair a completely different color and he hadn't noticed until two weeks later.

"hey, i was busy and running on 4 hours of sleep, collectively, for those two weeks," jihoon defends himself for the nth time, and you simply laugh and pat his chest as consolation.

"i was just joking, ji. anyways, i just realized that i missed out on something," you huff, leaning your head against his chest.

jihoon furrows his eyebrows. it's highly unlikely of you to forget anything, primarily because you always make a systematic list of everything you need to get done. in fact, he can see your little list pinned to the fridge from where he's standing.

"i forgot to make a playlist for christmas cleaning," you complain. "and that makes me sad, because i'll just have to redo the entire house after making the playlist."

"babe, you don't need to do it all over again," jihoon chuckles lightly. "let's just make the playlist now, hm? we'll figure what happens with it after we're done."

"this is why i love you so much," you grin widely, pressing another kiss to jihoon's lips.

—

after jihoon's shower, the two of you snuggle up on the couch, your phone cradled in jihoon's hands as you scroll through spotify to add songs to your playlist.

"okay, we have to start with queen mariah," you say, swiftly adding 'all i want for christmas is you' to the playlist with a solemn expression.

"i swear she's monopolized the christmas song market with that one," jihoon remarks amusedly, his fingers typing out the name for the next song.

"ah! 'the first snow'! i almost forgot about it," you gasp when you see jihoon adding the infamous song by exo to the playlist.

"i think 'santa tell me' needs to be here too," jihoon says, adding the song to the playlist as well.

you both go back and forth with various song titles, till the playlist is almost five hours long and filled with the warm vibes of christmas that you adore.

"i think we outdid last year's playlist," you point out, and jihoon playfully rolls his eyes.

"that's because you added my new album in there," he says. "it's not even closely related to christmas."

"well, forgive me for wanting to support my producer boyfriend!" you gasp dramatically. "plus, you know i have the album on repeat all the time."

"that means you're paying for half our bills with how much you're streaming it," jihoon jokes, swooping to press a kiss to your temple. as you two joke and laugh about other funny things, your stomach lets out a loud grumble.

"let's get some dinner in you," jihoon decides, and you unwillingly untangle yourself from him so he can get started on dinner.

just as jihoon sets a pot of water to boil on the stove, you interrupt him with a loud cry of his name.

"wait! stop!" you declare, and jihoon freezes in place, expecting the worst-case scenario, like that one time a giant spider was dangling above your head while you were doing the laundry.

"is it an insect?" he asks, barely moving his head to the side to face you, but his face shoots you an unimpressed look when you successfully connect your phone to the speakers and put the christmas playlist on shuffle.

"i almost dropped the water all over myself!" he groans, and you laugh cheekily, coming up behind jihoon to wrap him in a hug.

"sorry, baby," you apologize. "i just couldn't handle the thought of doing another task without blasting christmas songs in the house."

"it's literally only my songs playing," jihoon raises an eyebrow, and you shake his questions off with a wave of your hand. he doesn't need to know you just put on the playlist containing all the songs he's ever released. he also doesn't need to know that the top artist on your spotify wrapped for the last five years has been woozi.

(at some point after dinner and washing the dishes, jihoon switches the music over to the real christmas playlist, and he drags you into the living room to dance.

the night is spent with his hands on your waist, your hands on his shoulders, both your eyes locked on each other's, and the steady love you've built over the years engulfing you both.)

- fin.

divider made by @bernardsbendystraws !

main taglist: @tychebaby @min-imum @sousydive @livelaughloveseventeen @unlikelysublimekryptonite

@theidontknowmehn @t-102 @aaa-sia @cixrosie @baseball-dokyeom

series taglist in comments!

comment on this post to be tagged on the upcoming fics!

head to the series masterlist - here <3

head to the masterlist for more!

#gyubakeries <3 #mansaenetwork #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen drabbles #seventeen x reader #svt #svt fluff #svt imagines #svt drabbles #svt x reader #lee jihoon #woozi #svt woozi #woozi fluff #woozi imagines #woozi x reader #woozi drabbles

127 notes · View notes

funnyjb · 16 days ago

Note

Can I get a Joe Burrow imagine where his wife works in a hospital as a doctor and she had a tough day. Joe sees it when she comes home and he’s by her side when she tells him that she lost a patient at work.

You are an amazing writer!!!!

Hi yes of course!! Thank you🩷

……………………………………………………………………….

16 hours. 16 hours in the hospital. 16 hours running around and checking on patients. During those 16 hours you lost a patient. One that you have know for a pretty good time. It was hard. You had a moment in the storage closet, but you decided to finish out the work day and come home to Joe. All you wanted was to cuddle up in bed.

You locked your car and closed the garage door. Your feet ached. You were carrying your big bag, your lunch box, water bottle, and some files to look over. Your arm felt like it was about to come off.

As you stepped inside you took off your shoes disregarding them next to the cabinet near the door. Set your bags down and took your lunch box and water bottle to the kitchen. Then you saw Joe. He was sitting on the couch in his cream hoodie and Nike sweats.

Joe turned to look at you.

“Hey! How was your day?”- joe said as you sat your bags down.

You didn’t answer. As he asked that question you felt tear prickle in your eyes.

“Babe?”- Joe

He stands up and comes over.

“Hey, you ok?”- Joe opens his arms

You start to sob into his open warm arms.

“Shh…it’s ok. I’m right here.”- Joe

He runs his fingers through your hair.

“I..I lost a patient today.”- you

“Oh…I’m so sorry y/n. No one should experience that. What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”- Joe

“Um..she uh..she seized and it was too late.”- you cry

“I’m so sorry. It’s not your fault, you know that right? You did everything you could.”- Joe

You nod

“Let’s get you out of scrubs. Maybe take a hot shower? Then we can cuddle.”- joe

“Yeah. ok.”- you

You head upstairs.

Joe decided you need some space but also needed to do something to cheer you up.

Right when he heard the shower run he ran out the door and into his Porsche. He drove to the market not too far from you guys. He picked up some beautiful flowers that he thought reminded him of you. Some baby’s breath, pink roses, peonies, and some carnations. Along with a “it will be ok card” and obviously some chocolate.

He checked out and headed home.

When he stepped inside he could hear you upstairs. Probably finding some comfy clothes.

You came downstairs not shortly after to see a beautiful arrangement on the kitchen counter.

“Joe, did..did you do this?”- you ask

“Yeah. I wanted to cheer you up after such a hard day. I know this might not fix all the feelings about today but hopefully it will help out.”- joe smiles

“Joe. This is beautiful. Thank you, truly, thank you.”- you come up and give him a big hug

“Anything for my girl.”- joe kisses your head

………………………………………………………………………..

Hope you enjoyed!🩷

#joe burrow #joe burrow imagine #joey burrow #joe burrow bengals #joeyb #cincinnati bengals #joeyb9

103 notes · View notes

urbancreative · 1 year ago

Text

Our 100 % pure hemp drawstring bags are versatile bags and can be used in the home ot outside for a low waste and plastic free lifestyle. These bags are available in a range of sizes to suit a variety of needs. Use these bags for plastic free vegetable and grocery shopping and storage, as a bread bag, as a travel accessory, a laundry bag, a gift bag or to even store toys.

These durable bags are made in 100% pure medium weight ( 230 GMS ) hemp fabric in a variety of sizes and solid earthy colours. The draw strings are made of 100% durable cotton tape.

#drawstring bags #pure hemp #versatile bags #plastic free #Market Storage Bags

0 notes

serxa · 2 days ago

Text

THE PRINCE HAS TO LEARN THE HARD WAY—PART 3—THIRTEEN

PART 1 PART 2

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: It's Telemachus' last day with Y/n. Yet he absolutely failed making his time with her worth.

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Telemachus

Sorry if this took SOOO long to post, Wattpad has been bugging recently, and yes, I write in wattpad but post it here. Thank you for all the support:)

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐖 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂�� Telemachus had been working for Y/n's family business. When Y/n's father started to notice that he was finally getting good at pottery, even learning the clay animals thanks to Y/n, he decided he'll let him work for one more day until he sends him off.

But Telemachus doesn't know that today was his last day of work. He happily walked towards the market, with his bag of scrolls and parchment that had all of the sales he had made the past few weeks he has been working for Y/n's family business.

When he met up with Y/n, oh God's how he thought she was absolutely drop dead gorgeous. But Y/n doesn't know anything about Telemachus' feelings. Hell, not even Telemachus knows for himself. He denies it, saying she's just a work colleague... She's a lot oblivious than she really is. "Morning, Tel." Y/n waved at him while he walked over.

He felt a weight on his shoulder suddenly disappear and waved back. "Morning Y/n." He smiled softly and they started walking to the shop to open up. Telemachus choice to work early and to get off the same time Y/n does too, which did make Penelope and Y/n's parents cock an eyebrow at him, but they just agreed.

"Could you open the shutters for me?" Y/n sighed, stretching a bit. She's different from the normal girls here in Ithica. Almost every woman is wearing chitons and doesn't help in shops, yet, Y/n is an amazing person with pottery and sculpting, working at her parents shop, and wearing a tunic and their long sleeve uniforms.

"Yeah, of course." Telemachus murmured before opening the draped and shutters. They started unpacking the stuff, putting them back onto the shelves, tracking what's the hottest deals, counting how many left are in stock and if they need to sculpt. "I'm so.. Tired." Y/n murmured, yawning as she stretched back once again.

"What time did you sleep?" Telemachus asked as he carefully unpacked the glass swan he was holding. "A bit late than usual.." She answered as she rubbed her eyes with the back of her palm. Telemachus smiled softly at the look of her sleepy state. "Need, I don't know, coffee? After unpacking we could get a cup and go back here.." Telemachus offered as he put the storage box away. Y/n thought about the offer and smiled, nodding. "Yeah, sure.." She agreed, as she started to help unpack.

As the two did their own business, Y/n's father appeared and started to have a bit of small talk with them, before he looked over at Telemachus. "Boy, it's your last day, me and your mother agreed on it. We saw that you have been a good help here in the shop, and I think you've paid much more than enough for your debt here." He smiled at Telemachus.

When Telemachus heard her father's statement, he suddenly felt a weight of his shoulders add, his shoulder sagging a bit. When he was finally getting attached to the shop, loving pottery, enjoying waking up early, and being her, oh especially being with her. He glanced over at Y/n who was also staring at him. "O-Oh, uh.." He turned his eyes back to Y/n's father. "Yeah, thank you for letting me know." Telemachus forced a smile.

Once Y/n's father left, ne continued to unpack. "Is there anymore boxes?" He asked Y/n, who was starting to open the drums of clay. "Uhh.." She turned her head to see nothing but empty storage boxes. "None, so.. About that coffee." She smiled at Telemachus, that practically made him weak to the knees and toes.

"Oh, still want to grab a cup?" He smiled, and she immediately nodded, taking her small pouch of money. As they walked through the market, since the coffee grounds and coffee shops were at the very end, Telemachus noticed how weary Y/n was today.

She was limply walking as she counted her money. "Everything alright?" Telemachus asked, putting his hands in his pocket as they walked with a small distance between them. "Yeah, just tired.." She murmured, which Telemachus still didn't believe, but didn't want to push her too much.

He started to lean closer as they continued walking, and Y/n catched on. She hooked her arm around his and rested her head on his shoulder, which made Telemachus feel a sort of giddy inside him, but he quickly shoved it away. 'This is just to help her..' He reminded himself as they reach the small coffee and tea shop.

Y/n took her arm away from Telemachus' and ordered two cups of coffee for them. As they waited Telemachus was whistling, a new skill he actually learned a day ago. "Didn't know you could whistle." Y/n suddenly commented, which made him stop and smile sheepishly. "Yeaaah just.. Learned a new trick."

"New trick? Are you a dog? It's skill." Y/n corrected him. Telemachus was used to Y/n correcting him like this, but there are times where they both act dumb which they ask her parents for help then. "Right, skill." Telemachus nodded and they got their cup of coffee.

They sat on the small tables outside of the standee and started to drink their coffee. "I love their coffee, it a different flavor." Y/n admired the cup of coffee while she kicked her legs from under the table. "It has a zest to it." Telemachus stated as he blew the coffee to cool it down. "I know! That's why I love it." Y/n said happily, her charismatic and energetic side showing again.

"There's that energy." Telemachus raised his eyebrows, smiling at Y/n as he watched Y/n get her energy back. "Well, a good cup of coffee is what a simple person like me needs to get the day started." She said proudly. "Woah woah, too many syllables." Telemachus teased as he raised his hands playfully, making Y/n scoff and chuckle. "I'm sorry that your teeny tiny brain can't comprehend more than 16 syllables in one statement." She retorted with a teasing smirk.

Telemachus sipped his coffee and rolled his eyes playfully. "Hey, I can comprehend! I can comprehend good." He laughed and Y/n couldn't help but laugh also. Once they finishes their cup of coffee, and started walking back to the shop, they saw the other standee's and shops start to open also, restocking, opening shutters, all of that.

When they were back in the shop, up and running, Telemachus was practicing how to mold clay animals as Y/n read a book, both of them waiting for rush hour, where all of the sales pile in. Y/n looked up at Telemachus, watching as his eyebrows knit together as he carefully sculpted the play, wearing their uniforms and his hair tousled. He kept a serious expression, really all his attention on the sculpting clay in his hands, carefully holding it, not squeezing it or anything, just carefully holding it so it would turn out good.

Y/n turned her attention back to her book, shaking her head a bit as to remind herself about what she was reading. After a while, the customers started to pile in, and the two worked diligently with their tasks. Meanwhile, in Telemachus' head, was just one thing. Today was his last day of work. He won't be able to see Y/n unless he goes to the market, but he doesn't want to be obvious also!

He served one customer and once they left, he started to turn a plan in his head, the years turning with a crinking sound with each turn, trying to form a plan on how to spend time with her. It's already twelve in the afternoon, Y/n's parents giving the two food and as they ate, Telemachus was trying to find a reason to continue working here. It's hardest to explain to his mother, Penelope, especially that he doesn't want his mother to know or at least expect he likes someone now.

Does he even like her? He was in a spiral, not even getting his own feelings, how is Y/n able going to comprehend them? He sighed before taking a big bite of food before looking up at Y/n, who was starting to talk about her book. Telemachus smiled softly, humming after every statement, indicating that she was listening to her yapping. "But the author only made this book! It's annoying, only this? Their writing is ethereal!" She rambled, making Telemachus chuckle softly as he watched her grumble over the book.

"Maybe I could read it also once your done.." He murmured. "I mean, sure, you can. Only if I'm done." She smiled and Telemachus nodded in agreement. "Deal?" He raised his hand for a hand shake, which she gladly took. Telemachus couldn't help but think about how soft her hands were, like you just put ten pounds of lotion on their hands, and how warm her hands were.

Y/n on the other hand, couldn't help but think how soft his hand were also. And how bigger they were compared to hers. His hand was skinny and lean also, just like him, but his fingers were long and could easily clasp around her entire hand. Once they pulled away and continued eating, Telemachus could feel his cheeks burn a bit, indicating he was blushing. He quickly got rid of it before Y/n could notice his blush.

"The delas set, you're reading the book after I do and you're going to talk to me all about it!" She giggled, making Telemachus smile, knowing that Y/n also wants to continue talking to him even though he wouldn't be working there anymore. "Mhm." He took another spoonful of food, bringing it up to his mouth and ate it, watching as Y/n did that same. The two were finally starting to warm up to eachother..

Once the clock ticked three in the afternoon, Telemachus knew it was time for his out from work. He hadn't formulated a decent plan that wouldn't get him into too much trouble, so he just decided to let go and stop working, his contract was off and he wasn't sure if they we're even finding a new employee. And gosh, how shy he was to go back here everyday just to spend time with Y/n, its a stupid thing, really. He's just making it look like he likes her...

As he took the boxes from the storage room to unpack all of the vases and animals, he looked over at Y/n. "So how's your last day? Feeling happy that you're finally out of this hell hole?" She smirked as she leaned on the table, watching as he unpacked, placing the work of arts in the boxes for future sellings.

"Actually, I might miss it." He shrugged. "I know I don't get paid, nor I haven't even stayed here for more than 2 months, but I gotten used to how we do stuff around here. And our morning coffees. Lunches with you.. Free time with you. Y'know?" He chuckled awkwardly after realizing that he was rambling about you, wishing you don't catch on and think that he likes you, cause even he wasn't sure if he did. "Huh, really?" She said, propping herself on her palms, her tone dripping with tease.

"Hey, don't tease me now." He chuckled, making her grin. "I apologize, Prince of Ithica." She said softly, knowing she would have to start using that title once again. "Pssh, hearing that from you is a new thing." He chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. "What? It's true though." She giggled as Telemachus put the boxes back in the storage room.

"But hearing it form you is new.." He hummed, taking his bag, knowing that this might be their last conversation before he hides himself in his room, too scared to even look at her, knowing his feelings would just drive him into the biggest spiral mess he has ever been in before. Simply just by looking at her, makes him think that he likes you. But he also knows that he doesn't. But knowing that he likes you, also makes him remember he doesn't like you. It's really confusing, for him also.

He just wanted to nestle inside of his room and never look at her ever again. How is he going to ever explain this to her is he decided to confess? Does he need to get his shit and thoughts straight? He doesn't want to hurt her with false hope.. Suddenly, a snap made him shake his head, coming back to reality. "Huh?" He blinked, as he saw a confused Y/n in front of him, still leaning on the table she was leaning to earlier.

"You going home now?" She asked, tapping the table as she had a soft frown on her face. "Oh.. Uh-.. Yeah, I do. I-I am, sorry." He turned pink as he stumbled on his words. Y/n smiled softly and nodded. "Alright, so.. Let's go and close." She said softly taking the keys and her bag. As they closed the shutters and put back the drapes, Y/n suddenly felt a sense of longing. She didn't want to see Telemachus leave yet. Everything was so confusing.

"Uh.. I'll see you... Whenever I see you?" Telemachus said awkwardly, making Y/n's shoulders sag a bit as she realized that Telemachus wasn't planning on seeing her tomorrow. "Ah.. Uh, yeah.. Yeah, see you whenever I see you." She repeated, forcing a soft smile he normally gives him. Telemachus nodded and looked around before his eyes travelled back to you. "Bye.." He murmured.

"Bye."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

After a few days after Telemachus' last day, it was all so boring, no one to hang out with any more, and no more reason to wake up early again.

"It's been a while since you and Y/n have talked. You aren't going out of the house much again." Penelope said as Telemachus was hanging out in his parents room, as Penelope weaved a shroud. Telemachus suddenly froze at the mention of her name.

Y/n, the girl who was messing with his head. He never knew what love felt like. Is it supposed to make your her at ache or make you confused? Is it supposed to be annoyingly stubborn and never leave your head? How he feels about Y/n, gosh he just admits it, he likes her. He likes Y/n. How he misses his mornings, noons and nights with her, how the two talk about their interests and later on find out that you two both like that one topic. He loves how her eyes lights up when she see's him walking towards the market, how she leans on a nearby wall, table or chair as she watches Telemachus work...

How... Pretty she is.

Telemachus cleared his throat and started. "... I just... I just w. Have something in my head about Y/n." He started off, making Penelope curious. "That is..?" She waited as she continued weaving. "... I may or may not be developing big feelings for her, like big big, like big that I want to he with her. As a.. Partner.." He rambled. Making Penelope raise her eyebrows. Seeing Telemachus in love is not normal, he had always been busy protecting his mother from the suitors, being by her side as they longed for Odysseus to get home, so seeing him Inlove, is a crazy scenario.

"It's just.. She's so diligent. So hard working, she could serve up to 10 customers at once and could do pottery and sculpting. Gosh, in a span of short weeks, she managed to teach me how to do pottery... And how pretty she is, her eyes soften when she looks at me, her smile is so perfect with every crease and dimple forming on her cheeks and chin, even the side of her eyes creases when she smiled, her nose scrunching up when she's focused,she's like a rabbit, I swear, she's adorable." He rambled to his mother, covering his face as he groaned in his hands.

Penelope chuckled softly and hummed, looking at his now, lovesick son. "... You know... You could take the risk to be with her.. See if she likes you back." Penelope reassured her son as she counted the strings and skeins of yarn for her shroud. "I just.. I need time. I can turn my face towards her just yet, I need to let my feelings straight. Thanks mother." He sighed, standing up. "It's a good idea for making sure first." She hummed. When she saw Telemachus stand up, she cleared her throat. "Bye now, Telemachus." She smiled softly and he just waved goodbye. "Bye mother."

Fun fact, I wrote the last paragraph half asleep, so I apologize if it sounds nonsense

#𝄞♩♪serxa posts #epic the musical #epic the musical x reader #telemachus epic the musical #telemachus x reader #telemachus #legendary epic the musical

59 notes · View notes

galaxysupreme17 · 3 months ago

Text

An Unexpected Visitor (part 1 of 2)

Y/n = Your Name

AgathaRio x daughter!reader!

The Westview farmers' market was alive with vibrant energy, the sound of cheerful chatter mingling with the scent of fresh produce, baked goods, and blooming flowers. Agatha strolled leisurely with Rio and Y/n, savoring the rare moments of peace and quiet their lives allowed.

Y/n's dark brown curls caught the sunlight as they bounced with her every step. She looked effortlessly ethereal in a flowing, earth-toned dress that swirled around her ankles. A shawl embroidered with delicate floral patterns draped loosely over her shoulders, lending her an air of timeless elegance. She had returned home for spring break from college, missing home more than she thought she would.

"Mama, I think we've bought enough honey to last us until the next millennium," Y/n teased, her arms laden with a basket overflowing with jars and small bags of herbs.

"Don't be ridiculous," Agatha replied, inspecting a bundle of lavender at a nearby stall. "It's not just for tea. Honey is a key ingredient for many spells, you know. Versatile, magical, delicious—what's not to love?"

Rio raised an eyebrow, smirking as she adjusted her sunglasses. "You said the same thing about the rosemary you insisted on buying last week. Have we even touched it since?"

Agatha gasped, clutching the lavender dramatically. "How dare you? Rosemary is sacred—an essential component of—"

"—of spells, you haven't cast yet," Rio finished, laughing softly.

Y/n rolled her eyes but smiled, clearly used to their playful banter. "You two are why we always need extra storage in the kitchen." She adjusted the strap of her basket and stopped at a stall selling handmade jewelry.

"Don't get distracted, cariño," Rio said, her tone teasing but warm. "We still need to find those herbs for your potion practice."

Y/n waved her off with a grin. "I can multitask, Mom. Besides, if I don't get this shopping gene from one of you, I'll break the family tradition."

Agatha chuckled, reaching out to pluck a piece of fabric off a vendor's table. "Oh, darling, it's not a gene. It's an art form. You'll learn."

The three meandered through the market, often chatting with vendors or admiring handmade goods. It was a perfect afternoon, the kind of day that made Westview feel like a sanctuary.

But peace, as always, was fleeting.

As they rounded a corner near a stand selling potted herbs, Agatha froze. The jovial conversation around them dulled in her ears, replaced by a sudden, sharp awareness.

Rio noticed immediately. She placed a steadying hand on Agatha's arm. "Sweetheart, what is it?"

Agatha's lips parted, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the crowd. "A presence," she said quietly. "One I haven't felt in... centuries."

Before Rio could press further, a voice drifted through the air, silken and cold.

"Agatha."

The three of them turned toward the sound, and there he was—Magnus. He stood a short distance away, his piercing gaze fixed on Agatha. Time seemed to have barely touched him. His dark hair was slicked back, his angular features sharp, and his long black coat tailored perfectly to his lean frame.

"Agatha," he said again, stepping closer. His voice was smooth, almost disarmingly so. "It's been too long."

Agatha straightened, her body rigid with tension. "Not long enough."

Magnus's smile widened, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Is that any way to greet an old... acquaintance?" His gaze shifted, falling on Rio, then Y/n. His expression faltered briefly when his eyes landed on Y/n.

"And who is this?" he asked, his voice taking on a curious lilt. "Your... daughter?"

Y/n stepped closer to Rio, her shawl slipping slightly off her shoulder. She tilted her head, studying the stranger with cautious curiosity. "Who's asking?"

Magnus chuckled, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. "Fiery. Just like your mother." He turned his attention back to Agatha, his smile sharpening. "She's quite the image of you, Agatha. Except for those eyes... and that smile. Those aren't yours."

Rio stepped forward, her posture protective and her voice low. "Keep her name out of your mouth."

Magnus raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking to Rio. "And you must be the infamous Rio Vidal. The one who stole Agatha away from her coven, her destiny."

Rio smirked, though her eyes were cold as steel. "And you must be the ex who didn't know how to take a hint."

Magnus's jaw tightened briefly before he forced his smile back into place. "Funny. I seem to recall Agatha and I having a bright future ahead of us before you meddled."

Agatha's voice was sharp as a blade. "Don't rewrite history, Magnus. You were a pawn, just like the rest of them."

Magnus's expression darkened. "And now? You've traded power and prestige for... this?" He gestured around at the bustling market, his disdain evident.

Agatha took a step forward, her chin held high. "I traded manipulation and control for freedom and family. Something you'll never understand."

Magnus's gaze flicked back to Y/n, lingering too long. "Freedom and family," he murmured. "How quaint. Tell me, Agatha, does she know who she is? What she's capable of?"

Y/n narrowed her eyes, stepping in front of her mothers. "I know enough. And I know I don't need to listen to you."

Magnus chuckled darkly. "Such spirit. We'll see how long that lasts." He looked at Agatha one final time. "This isn't over."

With that, he turned and disappeared into the crowd as suddenly as he had appeared.

The car ride home was heavy with silence. Y/n sat in the back seat, her shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Finally, she spoke, her voice breaking the tension.

"Who was that guy?"

Agatha sighed, glancing at Rio before answering. "His name is Magnus. He's... someone from my past. Someone I hoped I'd never see again."

Rio added her voice firm, "And someone who doesn't matter now. He's a relic of a life we left behind."

Y/n frowned. "He seemed pretty interested in me. Why?"

Agatha hesitated, her voice softening. "Because you're my daughter. And that makes you a target for people who think they can use you to get to me."

Y/n sat up straighter, her expression resolute. "I'm not scared of him. He doesn't know me."

Rio reached back, squeezing Y/n's hand. "Good. Because we're not letting him get near you. Ever."

Agatha glanced at Y/n through the rearview mirror, her voice trembling slightly. "I won't let him take anything from me. Not this time."

Rio's free hand found Agatha's, squeezing it tightly. "He won't. We won't let him."

And in the quiet strength of Rio's voice, Agatha found the courage to believe it.

That night, after Y/n had gone to bed, Rio found Agatha sitting in front of the fire, staring into the flames. She approached quietly, handing her a glass of wine before sitting beside her.

"You're blaming yourself," Rio said softly.

Agatha didn't look at her. "He's here because of me. Because of what I was. What I did."

Rio reached out, taking Agatha's hand in hers. "He's here because he's a bitter, entitled coward who doesn't know how to let go. That's not on you."

Agatha's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "He looked at Y/n like she was a prize. A way to... to claim the Harkness line."

Rio's grip tightened. "And we won't let him. You're not fighting him alone, Ags. I'm here. Always."

Agatha finally met her gaze, her voice trembling. "I don't deserve you."

Rio leaned in, pressing her forehead against Agatha's. "You deserve every bit of this family. And Magnus will learn the hard way that no one messes with what's ours."

The firelight danced in Agatha's eyes, and she felt hope for the first time that day. Together, they would protect Y/n. No matter what it took.

#x reader #reader insert #agatha x daughter! reader #agatha all along #agatha x rio #agathario x daughter!reader #rio vidal #agatha harkness #agatha all along season 1 #agatha harkness x daughter!reader

56 notes · View notes

tobylix-blog · 7 months ago

Text

Gratitude - Aragorn x f!Reader

Content & Warnings: platonic, fluff(ish) Word count: 3.6k Summary: Aragorn returns to become a king and pay back for the kindness of a merchant's daughter, whom he has met during his past visit to Minas Tirith.

You open the store once again. The city is wrecked. The siege was barely three days ago. But the market is the first place to come back to life. As long as it's loud and busy the city lives. Your storage is filled. By some miracle no fire or stone has touched your street. You fix the door open and hang out a long piece of cloth - a sign that the store is working. You turn back to tidy up the shelves behind the counter when someone steps in. Judging by the sound of voices several people come in at once.

"A minute, gentlemen, I'm almost with you," you say over the shoulder, not quite looking at them yet.

The voices are quiet, and for a moment all is silent in the store. Then a loud thud comes. You turn to see a whole bag of coins on the counter as a rich, melodious voice sounds from among the men.

"My friends will need the finest clothes for the coronation and so will you, miss".

Your eyes slowly rise from the counter to the man speaking. His familiarity strikes as a low blow. His appearance changed drastically and yet hardly noticeably. He stands proud and is wearing fine clothing with the White tree of Gondor on it, but the gaze of his gray eyes is as piercing as before.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The street is busy with people. Morning rush in the market doesn't fade until noon when the sun gets just too high. Through dozens of conversations unfolding between merchants and customers bargaining over the goods, old friends who suddenly met in the middle of chaos and servants figuring out how to get it over with sooner, you hear a distinct male voice saying. "Get lost, outlander! Northerners are out of their mind if they think I will sell them even a piece of shit! Damn rangers."

You recognize the voice. The trader from the armory a few doors down the street. As threatening as he appears, he isn't usually that hostile to customers. From your point of view, two steps above the ground you can only see the dark hair of the man he scolds. Man is saying something back but his voice you can't quite hear. Instead a loud response comes from the inside of the armory.

"Put your silver up your thin arse! Get away from my store before I put a hammer through your head," this time it's the smith himself. You shiver a bit hearing his rough voice.

Stranger only stays in front of the armorer's shop for a moment before moving on. You finally see him fully when he appears from the crowd. Tall and dark-haired he doesn't seem all that different from men of Gondor. His clothes give away the fact that he is indeed a Ranger. You hear more sneers following him from the other side of the street where old men sell leather. Their tannery is actually a few streets down from here, but they still keep a display in the busiest part of the market. Unpleasant fellows. They even got in a quarrel with your father a few times trying to steal his customers. Probably that's why you take a step down from the door and call out to the stranger. There's no other explanation at all.

"Ranger! Come look at our fabrics. Best broadcloth in all Minas Tirith! Vast selection and best prices for you."

The Ranger stops, looks around for a moment, and seeing the wares through the open door makes his way down to look over them. He looks at the materials laid out on the counter over, fingers them, and seems intrigued by the selection. He reaches out to examine a particularly colorful one.

"You have a very good selection here. Are these local, or imported? They look very fine."

You may be only 13 years old, but you know the goods well. "These wools are gondorian. Look at the quality here. There are none like this anywhere in Arnor. I also suggest these linen fabrics delivered from Linhir," you say imitating your father's manner of speech.

The Ranger smiles faintly at seeing you so assured in your speech and so young. He looks over the wools and linens.

"Linhir, eh? Impressive that you get such high quality goods from so far away." He looks back at you with visible curiosity. "Are you the shop owner's daughter?"

"I am," you confirm and after a little pause pull a length of dyed linen from underneath the counter. "This one is rarely to anyone's liking but you seem to be fitting the description of 'not anyone', if I'm not mistaken. Take it. There's enough for a good shirt."

The Ranger smiles more broadly this time, and picks up the length of linen. He examines it thoroughly, and nods slowly.

"You've got a sharp eye, to guess that I'm someone who doesn't blend in, lass," he says with a touch of humor in his voice. "And this is definitely worth the coin. How much are you asking for it?"

You name the price. He rummages his pockets for a moment before cold coins drop heavy in your palm. "There's more than needed. I'll be right back…" you say and rush into the house. For a minute only some shuffling is heard. Then you return to the counter.

"Here," you tell the Ranger. "Change and well… everything."

You pass him a coin of change and a small bundle. The Ranger pockets the change, and then takes a look inside the wrap. After a moment, he smiles faintly again.

"Is it common practice for you to throw in a meal with your sales?" he asks, amused.

You feel blush creeping up your face. "If the tavern owners are half as hospitable as the blacksmiths are, you will need it."

The Ranger laughs at that, and his smile remains afterwards. "You've an excellent point, lass. The hospitality of tavern owners seems to be in constant decline. And I'm not sure about the blacksmiths either."

It's clear in his voice that he's jesting, though he is obviously remembering his earlier confrontation with the blacksmith. You watch him put on the hood of his cloak as he walks away blending in with the crowd. You don't remember much from the rest of that day, except for occasional sidelong glance from the leather men. No wonder you don't. It's been over eight years since then.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Many thoughts arise at once, clouding your mind like a swarm. Yet they all are silenced by one phrase, that a dwarf says. "What is the meaning of this, Aragorn?" He says something else about how it's not the king's duty to walk from stall to stall, choosing fabrics, but it doesn't matter.

You slowly slide off the stool you were standing on, by some wonder landing on your feet and not gashing your knees against the wooden floor. The words are pounding in your head. Yes, that's right. People surrounding him are.. not exactly people. An elf, a dwarf and two hobbits. Just as the rumor has it. The king has friends of other races and folks.

Your body is stiff when you muster a bow to him. This tall man, Ranger you once met, turned out to be the last living heir to the throne. Some absolutely mad joke of fate that might be.

"It's an honor to see you here, my king. Though I must apologize for the disorder and lack of manner," you manage to utter finally.

He smiles faintly at your bow. "It's good to see you again, lass," he says, raising a hand to forestall any further apologies. "And there's no need to apologize. Your manner is fine, especially given the circumstances."

He leans forward a bit, eyes still sparkling with the faintest hint of mischief. "You seemed surprised just now when you saw me. As if you've seen a ghost walk into your shop."

"It isn't everyday that a faintly familiar ranger pays a visit… and happens to become a king, your majesty," you say. Your eyes dart from one of his companions to another until you settle with the image. From there on your steps are fast and words are even faster as you fall into the usual pattern of work. It helps to set all worries aside.

"Midnight blue and ink black broadcloth for Gimli, son of Gloin," you arrange the fabrics on top of the counter before the dwarf. "Goes well along with both gold and silver."

"Bright wools and soft satins for brave hobbits," you speak pulling out lengths of colored textile and showcasing them to Merry and Pippin.

"Silver silk brought all the way from Lorien for honorable Legolas of Mirkwood," you suggest, unsure yet if smuggled wares could meet the request of an elf.

"Linen from Linhir and hemp from Dale for your majesty," you offer a multitude of colors to the future king.

Aragorn's eyebrows rise in mild surprise at the speed with which you handle the various requests. You clearly know your craft, and well. You pick out the colors and patterns with ease. He runs his hands over the soft fabric of the broadcloth you picked out for Gimli. After a moment, he nods slowly.

"Excellent choice for my friend," he says, glancing at the dwarf. Gimli grins back and nods in agreement.

"It's an honor to meet your expectations, my king," you bow slightly under Aragorn's somewhat disapproving gaze.

You watch as the others look through the selected fabrics and nod in agreement, choosing the best fitting ones. Aragorn himself looks rather delighted by the wares. He picks out a length of hemp cloth, turns it over in his hands a few times, examining the weave and texture, and finally gives a satisfied sigh.

"I'm still a Ranger at heart," he says, glancing up at you. "My taste in clothes runs toward the simple and practical. This hemp is just the thing."

He sets the hemp down on the counter and smiles back at you. "I do wonder, though… which one will you choose for yourself?"

Your heart skips a bit at the question. "For myself?" The words leave your mouth before you get a chance to think them through.

Aragorn smiles at your surprised expression. "Of course," he says. "I doubt I need to tell you that the coronation will be a grand event. There will be people, nobles especially, with all the fashion sense and more coin than sense. You will be the only one in something plain and unadorned if you stay away from the occasion."

He looks down at your clothes. You're well-dressed for a trader, a clear sign that the store's profits stay high despite any turmoil, but it's clear that your dress is ordinary, suitable for an ordinary day. "You deserve something better than that."

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand, your majesty…" you mutter. "I might be able to watch the coronation from among the crowd, or standing on the parapet if the luck is good. But my dress makes no difference in that luck."

Aragorn lets out a small huff and shakes his head. "No, lass. You have seen me before, and you weren't among those sneering and showering me with cheap mockery. As far as I'm concerned, you're entitled to a seat of honor at the ceremony. And I'm not letting you take that seat while you've still got your old clothes on."

You look at him in disbelief. This idea seems absolutely mad. You have probably lost your mind during the siege, and now you're imagining the whole thing. That the King, Aragorn, would be in your store personally inviting you as a guest to his coronation and willing to pay for your dress because of some decade old encounter. You shake your head and blink a few times trying to get back to reality. And yet he is still here. The same smirk on his lips as he leans on the counter.

Aragorn's smirk grows a bit wider when he sees your reaction. "Don't doubt your eyes, lass," a hint of humor is present in his voice. "I am standing here. And I am inviting you."

He looks you up and down, taking in your current clothes and appearance. "And if you don't pick something suitable, I'll do it myself, and you won't like it."

At that you only shake your head yet again and turn around facing the many shelves behind the counter. You know the wares like the back of your hand and don't waste much time picking out the more delicate linens and a length of silk from southern Gondor in light blue hues. Aragorn only looks them over once and gives a nod of approval.

"An excellent choice," he says, looking up at you with a smile. "You have an eye for color."

You nod slightly, unable to speak anymore. It all seems so impossible and unreal. Aragorn pays for everything he and his friend choose as well as for the lengths for your own dress; he also leaves behind enough to pay any seamstress in the city for the gown. It's only a few minutes before you're left behind. Alone and bewildered by the meeting.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the next couple of days you pay a visit to a seamstress that once had sewn your mother's wedding dress. She takes the order readily and in the next morning a boy brings back a bundle with the finished gown. It's light and flowing like water in the river. You wait patiently until the day of coronation to finally put it on.

The dress seems to be enchanted somehow. You don't feel like a merchant's daughter walking through the crowd at court, being accompanied by a guard. You don't feel alien standing in the front rows among noble ladies and just a few steps away from lady Eowyn — niece to the late king of Rohan — and lord Faramir — son of the last steward of Gondor. You feel as if this could be some other life prepared for you by fate. And still you can't quite place why the king would step out of his way and do something of that sort for you.

Throughout the whole ceremony you can't tear your eyes away from his silhouette. You recognize the familiar color and texture of fabric, hugging his neck from beneath the armor. You watch him walk regally and at the same time very openly among the guests. Many are his friends. The ceremony ends with his grateful bow to the hobbits as the whole court follows his example. And with that begins the feast.

The great hall of the palace is decorated and festive. The long tables are filled with food and drinks. People flood the hall, taking their places. You watch the whole Fellowship find themselves close to the king. And your own place is somehow not that far away as well. Just among the members of the few remaining noble families of Gondor, blending you in with them.

As the feast progresses more wine bottles are opened. So far you managed to avoid the many cups of wine being offered by neighbors at the table, but it was getting noticeably harder. Some surely mistook you for a daughter of some less well-known, but clearly wealthy family, that would make for a good bride for one of their many sons. Before the direct confrontation becomes unavoidable you get away from the table and into a side gallery. Unsure as to where you should be going, you escape onto a balcony. It's empty and the scenery is beautiful. Fresh air is soothing against the heated skin.

You lean onto the parapet of the balcony, taking this chance to immerse in peace of the early night. Judging by the music, the dancing must have started, and that sounds like another perfect way to excuse yourself from the table later. But before you even decide to head back, you hear the sound of the balcony door slightly creaking at being opened and slow footsteps approaching.

You turn around and recognize Aragorn, who must have found a great time to sneak out of the spotlight relatively unnoticed. Back in the hall he looked nothing like the Ranger you once met, but here in the faint moonlight and subtle orange hues casted from the windows you can spot more similarities than before.

"Good evening, your majesty," you greet him politely with an appropriate bow.

Aragorn smiles faintly at your bow. He steps forward and leans on the parapet next to you. After a moment, he speaks, his voice more casual than it was earlier.

"You know, you don't need to call me by my title. Especially not while we're alone like this."

The suggestion catches you off guard. "I don't quite understand what should I call you then… or why that would even be possible," you confess your doubts.

He looks over at you and raises his eyebrows. "Why would it be possible to call me by my given name? Because I'm allowing it. For the time being, at least."

Aragorn turns to you completely so that he's leaning against the parapet, with one arm resting on it. The simple action bringing color to your face as you get to see him fully. "You met me before I was king. As far as I'm concerned, that means you still have the right to call me something other than 'your majesty' when we are alone, like this."

"There're many people in this city and beyond its walls who have met you before, Aragorn," his name feels almost alien on your tongue. "But I doubt that they all receive the same… treatment."

The king lets out a small huff and smiles faintly. "No, I suppose not. I doubt I'd be able to recognize any of them, for starters. You, however, were more memorable…"

He gives you a brief once-over. "You were more memorable," he repeats, his gaze fixed on you for a moment before he looks away and back out at the city. "It could be a mere coincidence, but I trust my fate and its signs. My visit to Minas Tirith eight years ago was the last one. It was the time when I attempted to make the final decision of whether to follow the path of an heir or give up. The way I was greeted with dozens of insults and many more curses in the streets of the White city was the sign that I assumed to be an advice against pursuing my right for the throne. You showed up before my eyes right when I was ready to give up. So young and eager, so welcoming and confident. I couldn't tear my eyes away from you. You seemed as the very essence of the new Era. You singlehandedly charged something within me with this new will to fight for such future."

You stand there too stunned to say a single word, your mind racing with thoughts. You would never expect to hear something of the kind. The way you acted during that first encounter was a surprise to you as well, as if… well, as if fate pushed you to be more hospitable and welcoming to this stranger.

The more you keep thinking about his words the brighter the scarlet tone on your cheeks turns. You try to get rid of the definitely wrong ideas you got, but they just keep reappearing in your troubled mind.

Aragorn glances over at you and takes notice of the shade of red creeping over your cheeks. He can't help but give a small chuckle. "And now you're blushing again. I wonder why?"

He reaches forward and carefully takes your chin, his hand tilting your face up towards him slightly. "What could possibly be going through that mind of yours, I wonder…"

Your eyes dart to his with righteous indignation. "You know what!" you exclaim rather impolitely, but continue in a much calmer, quieter manner. "How could you be speaking of fate so easily…"

Aragorn lifts an eyebrow in amusement as your voice rises then falls off again. His grip loosens a little, his fingers now resting on your cheek, still turning your face to look up at him.

"You don't like the concept of fate?" he asks, with a faint smile. "You don't think the right people can meet at the right time?"

"No, that's not what I meant. However, you sound so sure of the way you interpret those signs of fate. As humans we are only able to follow the path prepared for us, not knowing what lays ahead, aren't we?" you say trying to explain your mind's confusion. "But you seem to understand more, and that seems impossible to me. Especially, when," you pause for a moment searching for the right words. "When I somehow get involved in your fate."

He looks at your expression, studying your eyes and face, his fingers still touching your skin as he speaks.

"You are involved in my fate," Aragorn says, his voice low and serious. "You have been for a long time, whether you knew it or not. But I knew it. Not long after we first met. I knew there was a greater purpose to that encounter, even if you did not. And I made sure to be grateful for your timely appearance. Though I must admit there might be more than just gratefulness…"

He removes his hand from your face and makes a few steps towards the door back into the hall before turning around and facing you once more. "Dancing will continue for another hour, but it would be a shame if the king doesn't dance even once because a beautiful lady decided to spend her whole night on a balcony, right?"

Your gaze glides over his hopeful gray eyes and faint smile until it finally lands on his outstretched hand.

#aragorn x reader #lotr #lotr x reader #aragorn #oneshot

92 notes · View notes