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h1ghoffu · 1 year ago

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WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW — Toji Fushiguro

dad!toji x mom!reader

summary : celebrating baby megumi's first birthday as toji remembers the day he fell in love with you.

content warning: fluff, fluff, fluff! toji being a big softy for reader, megumi being a cute baby, mentions of foster care, reader knowing her worth.

word count: 2.3k

notes: I saw this video of a mom celebrating her daughter's first birthday like this and it made my heart absolutely melt. also, my obsession with toji is growing, especially soft dad toji like UGH GIVE HIM TO ME. i also think about the fact that he did change and the reason being a woman who showed what life could be like. my true roman empire fr. but to add a little more to the context of this fic, i chose the title because firstly the song, 'margaret' by lana del rey is about finding your person and the feeling of finding them. so i sggest listening to the sone while reading! anyways, enjoy!!!

It was currently 6 a.m. and both your husband and baby were fast asleep still. You on the other hand were wide awake putting together a special surprise for your baby, Megumi, who was turning one.

You felt yourself get emotional as you get flashbacks of when he was just a tiny little thing. He still is your tiny little baby but he’s growing so fast it makes you wanna cry.

As you’re tying the ballon’s up to his crib, you hear him stir in his sleep. Your heart jumps for a second but then see his little eyes flutter open. Your gaze softens even more and a smile spreads across your face, “Good morning, baby,” You coo at him sweetly, and he smiles immediately recognizing his momma. His hands reach up wanting you to hold him and of course you could not say no to him.

You lift him up in your arms and hold him close to your chest. You press a kiss against his cheek, closing your eyes and swaying back and forth with him in your arms.

Toji groans as he feels himself wake up from his deep slumber. He rolls around in bed and reaches for something that isn’t there. His eyes quickly shoot open and he sees that you’re not in bed. *Did the baby start crying?* No because he would’ve heard it.

He then gets up leaving his room and making his way towards the babies room. He noticed the door is already open and when he peaks inside he sees you holding your baby swaying back and forth with him in your arms. His eyes then scan the room and notices the balloons above the crib along with the birthday decorations.

It was Megumi’s first birthday, of course. His eyes go back to you and Megumi and his heart accelerates. The sight was beautiful, he wanted to cherish it and keep it locked up in his head forever. God, you were so beautiful and you absolutely glowed with Megumi in your arms. He never knew how love could feel so amazing and how easily it stared him in the face when it came to you.

It was never easy for Toji to love especially since he’d never felt real true love for anyone. Not his mom and certainly not his dad, he was alone for as long as he could remember.

Of course he didn’t care, he could have any woman he wanted in a matter of seconds. No women could change him and he was fully convinced of that.

But boy was he wrong when he met you, everything changed. When you met you didn’t immediately flirt with him. You just saw him as a regular guy walking into your diner because that’s what he was. You treated him normally, not throwing yourself on him like other women. It was refreshing to say the least.

But he knew why, he could tell by the way you carried yourself that you knew you deserved something special. So when he first asked you out, you immediately turned him down without explanation. At first he was a bit offended but he brushed it off telling himself he liked a challenge.

He continued to ask you out after and still was met with the same answer. He did this for 4 months until he finally sat down at the diner and asked you, “Why won’t you go out with me?” You stare at him wide-eyed as you place a cup of coffee in front of him, “Well, you’ve never actually tried having a conversation with me, nor have you tried getting to know me, you like me because I’m pretty not for who I am,” She says cleaning up the area around him then leaving him there to think about what she said.

As she comes around to serve some costumer their food he stops her, “But I want to get to know you, that’s all I’ve been wanting these past couple of months,” Your face is blank, a bit irritated that he’d step in front of you like that, “Then prove it, actions speak louder than words,” You step around him continuing to do your job.

He let your words marinate for a second before he paid for his coffee and left.

It was now the end of your shift and all you wanted to do was go to bed. You sigh as you open the back door to leave, “Hey,” You jump at the sudden noise, feeling your soul leave your body. You look over at the noise, feeling a wave of relief that it wasn’t some freak, “Toji, you scared me!”

He was leaned up against the diner’s wall. He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, “My bad,” You shake your head before taking a deep breath, “What are you doing here anyway? The diners closed,” He shrugged leaving the wall and beginning to walk over to you, “I wanted to talk,” You raise your eyebrow in confusion, “To who?”

“To you,” He has a light smile on his face which causes you to smile, “About?” He laughs as he puts his hands in the pockets on his jeans, “I want to get to know you,” You narrowed your eyes at him, “How long have you been waiting out here for me?” Your question makes him tongue tied and red with embarrassment, “I-…since I left the diner,” He mumbles, but you heard it clear.

“That was 6 hours ago…you’ve been waiting here this whole time?” He nods looking away from you, already feeling so much embarrassment, “I didn’t know when you got off, so…I waited,” You didn’t understand why but you felt your heart flutter a bit, but you quickly shook it off. He noticed you think for a bit but quickly spoke up again, “Can I walk you home?”

Your snapped out of you thought, staring up at him blankly, “Sure, why not,” you didn’t feel threatened by him at all, you felt more safe around him then anything. One thing about Toji is that the many times he’s asked you out he’s never made you uncomfortable. He’s never made weird comments about you, he was cocky when you first met him which was off putting.

But after you shot him down the way you did he wasn’t so cocky after, “Would you like me to carry your bag?” He asks, noticing how tired you look, wanting to lift a weight of your shoulder, literally, “Oh, sure,” You handed him your bag then stretched your arms over your head and yawned, “I’m tired,” You say as you begin to walk, Toji hums before he asks, “How long have you been working there?”

“Mmm since I graduated high school,” Toji’s eyes widen a bit, you’d been working there for years and he’d never seen you, “Seriously? How come I only met you 4 months ago?” Toji had been going to that diner for a while now, ever since he graduated high school, “Well I recently graduated university, like 6 months ago but it’s been hard to look for a job so I asked to start working full time.”

Toji did take you for an educated woman, as whenever you were disrespected at the diner you never took it, always standing up for yourself, “Wow, what did you study in university?”

“Social work, I want to be a social worker for foster kids,” Toji felt his heart jump out of his chest, Toji was a foster kid. After he’d left the Zenin clan, he got into trouble shop lifting which let him to get put into the system. Which he was salty and angry about at first, it was as if he was just going back to where he was in the first place.

But to his surprise he was assigned a nice family and a great social worker who looked out for him, “Really? You know I was a foster kid,” his words make your ears quirk up turning your head towards him, “seriously? Was the system good to you?” The hope in your eyes is telling, he could see that you wanted to change things that went on it the system that were awful, “Fortunately yes, it was,” I smile spread across your face that made him melt instantly, “That’s great, I’m glad.”

The rest of the walk he learned more things about you, your favorite things, what you enjoyed doing on your free time, everything he could. You were right, getting to know somebody is so much more important than whatever they’d look like. Of course you were beautiful, no doubt about it but it was just a bonus to the beautiful personality you carried within you.

You soon arrived to your apartment complex. Toji scanned the area, it wasn’t the safest part of town but he knew it was affordable, so he couldn’t judge. “So, where do you see yourself in the future? You said you’re 22 right?” You nod as you both stop in front of the complex and sit on a nearby bench, “Well, I’ve always wanted a family, small or big. An amazing husband with a baby in a small house in the suburbs or by the beach, just living happily and peacefully.”

He noticed the way your eyes sparkled when you spoke. When you continued to describe what you wanted he couldn’t help but picture it. You, him, and a baby. His heart pounded in his chest at the image, when you stopped talking you looked into his eyes as he did you. That’s when he knew, he wanted to be everything you needed. He wanted to be the man for you.

So watching the sight of you and Megumi swaying back and forth, happily as ever is a sight for sore eyes. He felt emotional, never thinking he’d get to this point in life, this happy. Even though he was partially raised well he still had his flaws but you saw those flaws and mere things willing to stay and work on them with him.

You were his angel, his peace, and his everything. He finally decided to fully enter the room, placing a hand on the small of your back making you jump slightly, “Oh my gosh, Toji! You scared me!” He lightly chuckled before placing a kiss on your lips, “You weren’t in bed so I came up to see what was up,” You hum rubbing circles on Megumi’s back.

“I was going to wake you but you seemed exhausted last night,” He looks at Megumi, placing a hand on his head and giving him a kiss on his forehead, “Thank you, honey but I’m okay. Besides, it’s our little guys birthday, I could never miss that,” boy did this man have you wrapped around his finger, you fell in love with him over and over again every single day.

“Well since you’re here, can you grab the cake and candles that are in the kitchen so we can sing him happy birthday,” He nods giving you another kiss, “Anything for you,” You giggle as you watch him walk out of the room, you look at Megumi staring up at you, “happy birthday, my sweet boy,” you bring him up pressing your cheek against his.

Toji comes back with a cake and a single candle in his hand. Little Megumi coos at his dad causing Toji to laugh, “patience little guy,” he sits down placing the cake down as well, you follow first placing Megumi down then sitting yourself next to Toji.

Toji places the candle on the cake then lights it. Little Megumi’s eyes widen as he sees the small flame but then giggles and claps. You lay your head on Toji’s shoulder watching the sight that made your heart melt.

You began to sing happy birthday to him and he’d never smiled more, swaying back and forth to the sound of his parents voice. Megumi’s was only one but he felt the love that radiated off of his parents and how much they loved him, “Happy birthday to you, okay baby, now blow out your candles.”

Megumi’s face tilted in confusion, causing you and Toji to chuckle, “Like this,” you said as you blew softly, he copied your movement but no air came out of his lips. Toji laughed, “Okay try again,” he whispered but instead this time Toji blew slightly causing the candle to go out, little Megumi clapped thinking he had done it. You smiled at your happy baby, then at your husband, you lifted your head off of his shoulder giving him a kiss.

“Thank you,” You whispered lovingly, “For what?” He asked confused, “For this, for it all, for giving me the life I’d always dreamed of,” His heart swells at your words causing him to shake his head, “No, thank you, you accepted me knowing I had so many flaws…and you changed me…you’re the reason I am this way. You are my reason, Y/n.”

You look over at Megumi for a second, who moved himself to crawl, “Oh Toji,” You coo, cupping his face and giving him a passionate kiss, “I love you, I love you so much,” He whispered wrapping his arms around your waist and bringing you closer, “I love you, Toji,” You nuzzle your face into his chest holding him close, but in the corner of your eye you see something.

“Toji, look,” you tap his chest and point over to Megumi, who stood up. He always did that but what you didn’t expect was for him to take a couple steps forward. You both gasped, quickly sitting up as you watch your baby make his way to you. You feel your eyes well up with tears and you begin to clap excitedly, “he’s walking!” you cheer excitedly. Little Megumi makes it all the way to his parents. Toji is quickly to scoop him up and kiss him excitedly.

You both celebrate your babies big step in growing up. Which makes you so proud but so emotional, Toji is quick to wipe your tears. He kisses you once more and smiles, down at you then at his son, “My blessings,” He whispers.

h1ghoffu - i do not allow my work to be reposted. please do not plagiarize my work or theme. reblogging and comments are welcome! much love! thank you for reading!

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endless-ineffabilities · 2 months ago

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be young, be dope, be proud

dynasty heir Aemond x heiress reader

a/n: randomly and carelessly drafted after a night out, so don't even ask me what this is. title obvi from Lana. also, I feel like the setting here is an acquired taste. so, enjoy? 💁🏼‍♀️🤍

themes/warnings: spoiled rich assholes, New York/modern references, language, clichés galore, Targs are like the Kennedys if that whole family was pure evil and Rep, SMUT, angst between brats who clearly want each other, also—you're kind of a hypocrite

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The estate reeks with old money: marble columns, ancestral portraits, and a long dining table loaded with crystal and silver. Chandeliers try to warm the place, but it's all cold opulence. Outside, the gardens are cut and tamed to show that even nature has a price.

Your father always brings the family along to stately dinners up there in Westchester, with the usual crowd in attendance—the Targaryens, the Velaryons, the Lannisters—the whole lot.

Between them, they could probably purchase every building in Manhattan without creating a single dent in the bank.

Hell, maybe they already have. Generational wealth truly is the gift that keeps on giving.

You've tried to distance yourself from it. From people whose words drip poisoned honey and condescension. Being waited on like new order royalty.

But who are you to talk, when your father's lineage traces back to the fucking Mayflower? You and them are one and the same—filthy rich and borderline insane.

It is nearly impossible to maintain a steady sense of self, to have ample room for personal growth, when everything, every single thing, is handed to you on a silver platter. There is no tension there, no struggle, no need to exert any effort.

Failed your courses? Your father donates a building to the university. Aemond gets several DUIs? His great-uncle is a Supreme Court Justice. Aegon nearly burns his friend's house down while throwing a bacchanal-themed party? Let's just say that friend is grounded. For a week. Oh, the horror. Their family had many other estates, in many other places anyway.

When there are no real repercussions to your actions, you will feel like you can do just about whatever you want.

Burn the world down, for all you care. You can just buy a new, better one.

Granted, not everyone in your circle is an entitled egotist. There's Helaena, who strangely enough, does not possess a single self-important bone in her body, unlike her aforementioned brothers. Jace, who spends most of his time getting involved in political activism, for the side that his magnate grandfather Viserys steadfastly opposes.

You'd always sit beside either of them in these dinners, for the sake of your sanity. Unfortunately, Aemond and Aegon are never far. Especially Aemond—who occassionally stares you down as he sits across the table. Aegon, seated to his left, whistles at you. "Hey. Hey so... are you still slumming it with the art crowd?"

"I'm sorry?" You narrow your eyes at him. He didn't even say hello or mind if I cut in? as Jace was telling you about attending the DNC rally.

Aemond watches you again, so closely it raises goosebumps along your arms. He's been stealing glances at you ever since you arrived with your family. And you've been openly shooting glares at him when you sense it. Him and that steely one-eyed gaze of his always gets under your skin.

Aegon sneers, and you think how it's so in character of him. "You still live in Brooklyn? Cosplaying as a normie?"

"Fuck off, Aegon."

You've been living in Brooklyn for the past year, trying to finish up your Masters from Barnard. You would never hear the end of how this is the most redundant and useless thing, especially from people like Aegon. It does seem contrived, daddy's little heiress playing at being a scholar at Columbia, but at least you are doing something.

Besides, you have no desire to take over your family's empire. If anything, you want to branch out, maybe take on Jace's proposal on starting a charity foundation together.

"Aegon! Do you know how messed up that sounds?" Jace comes to your rescue, but you know it'll be for nought. Aegon's brain is too warped, too silver-spoonfed, to recognise his folly. You used to feel sympathy for the guy—this life is all he's ever known, and it isn't as if the adults around him ever set a good example, so can you blame him?

Used to. Now, he just annoys you. You grew up the same, but you are not like him, aren't you? So did Hel and Jace. So did Aemond. And Aemond, while still an asshole, is at least someone you can tolerate. He's vicious when it comes to his ambition, but he's genuinely smart.

He's cold and aloof, but he is also capable of tenderness.

You would never readily admit to anyone how you know this about him.

And he's staring you down, once again. You immediately know it's him when you feel someone nudge your shin under the table.

You eye him warily. What do you want?

He raises his eyebrows. Nothing. Just missed you.

At least that's what you're picking up from him. Why wouldn't he miss you? You're probably the best thing in his life right now. He should be so grateful you're still giving him the time of day, especially after everything he's done.

Aemond nods ever so subtly, the gesture meant for only you. You already know what he's getting at, but you don't feel like caving just yet.

It's another long moment of tuning in and out of your conversation with Jace, but Aemond's unspoken question lingers. When you deign to look at him again, he tilts his head to the side. Let's go.

He knows to leave first, and he stands and excuses himself from the table. Barely anyone gives him any mind, the adults debating passionately at the farther end.

You wait one whole minute, your heels tapping impatiently under the table. Then you follow suit.

"I need some air. Might have a smoke or something," you mumble to Jace. He wouldn't want to tag along, the scrunch of his face revealing how much he loathes the habit.

"Just the one," he tuts, raising a finger.

You roll your eyes fondly. "Okay, dad."

Aemond has just lit a cigarette when he hears you come in. The door to the private library lets out a tiny creak then shuts without a sound. He faces the window, his back to you. But he knows it's you. He can almost hear the derision in your exhale. A hint of your unmistakeable Guerlain scent is present in the room.

When you draw closer, he sees the ghost of your reflection on the glass, a mirage perched atop his shoulder. He thinks of the age-old visual of having an angel and a devil on either side. You would be the angel, and the devil... would probably be his own self.

The side he fights to keep buried. He knows you see it, and hate it, but you want him anyway. You let him have you anyway. And these stolen moments with you are the only times when he is truly free.

Without a word, he offers a cigarette to you, his hand moving with a smooth, practiced form that makes it feel like he's not just offering you a smoke but issuing a silent challenge. He lifts his lighter, an intricate, expensive thing engraved with his family crest, flicking it open with a soft metallic click, then holding the flame steady as you lean in.

He can't help but admire how beautiful you are as the glow illuminates your face.

"Do you ever get bored?" you sneer, folding your arms as you lean against a shelf. "Sitting there all night with that smug, 'yes, I agree with all of this' look while your family drones on about the 'sanctity of tradition.' Like a good little heir."

Aemond raises an eyebrow, barely looking up from his cigarette as he takes a drag. You sure have a habit of getting right down to business. "Funny," he replies smoothly. "For someone who 'hates' tradition, you play the part of Daddy's obedient little princess pretty well. I saw you batting your eyes at every gray-haired councilman at that table."

"Oh, please." You roll your eyes, heat flaring in your cheeks, though whether from anger or the way his gaze always seems to pin you in place, despite your best efforts, you can't say. "I'm not doing it because I like it. I don't sit there pretending I'm better than the rest of the world."

"You don't?" He cocks his head, his lips quirking into a wry, infuriating smirk. "Could've fooled me, princess. All I ever hear from you in these dinners are 'Oh, absolutely' and 'Oh, that's so interesting'—like you'd just die if they didn't think you cared."

"Wow, okay, says the guy who spent twenty minutes nodding along while they debated the tax breaks for HNWIs. Planning to cut yourself some more slack there, hotshot?" You take a quick, sharp puff, the smoke billowing out of your lips as you continue your tirade. "You're a damn statue, Aemond. Most of the time, you don't even say a word, and yet somehow you sit there looking like everyone should be grateful you graced them with your presence."

He takes a step closer, and his voice drops. This is something only you can do—you get to him, you hit him where it matters. Or, you're the only one he allows the privilege of doing so. "And you hate it, don't you? You hate that I don't care what they think. That I'm not actually here to impress anyone."

Your laugh comes out bitter. "Please. You don't care because you're so convinced they already think you're perfect. You don't have to impress anyone because you're Aemond Targaryen, right? The perfect heir to a glowing legacy."

"Better that than playing the poor, tortured rebel." He's so close you can count the facets of the sapphire in his socket, a dangerous gleam flashing behind them—another outlandish, excessive thing only a billionaire's son would think to do. "At least I'm not pretending I want to burn it all down while running around in the same circles as everyone else. Tell me, do you actually care about the policies Jacaerys painstakingly explains to you? Or is it all just for show?"

"You don't know me, Aemond."

"Oh, but I do. In fact, I think I'm the only one who knows the real you."

You clench your jaw, craning your neck up to look at him. How ironic that he literally has to look down on you too. "Unlike you, I actually feel something about all this. You sit there like you're above it all, and it's pathetic."

"Pathetic?" He lets out a low, humorless laugh. "You want to talk about pathetic? The only thing pathetic is you standing there acting like a revolutionary when you're just like the rest of us."

"At least I want to get out. At least I want to make a goddamn difference and—"

"Then do it," he says, his tone mocking, as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your face. "Get out. Run off, make your big escape. Show everyone how different and special you are, princess."

"Oh, right," you shoot back, trying to regain some of your moxie after his unexpected retort. "And leave you to taint my image after then?"

He scoffs, the gesture dismissive, almost cruel. "You wouldn't be here if you actually had the guts to go through with it."

Aemond may be a pretentious asshole, but he's right, and you know it. "You know what, Aemond? What if... I tell you that I like it. The power, the status, all of it. Is that what you want to hear?"

He smirks. "You'd be adrift without it. You'd be lost without all this to complain about." His gaze drops to your mouth, as if he could already guess exactly how a rendezvous like this is going to end.

How it always ends.

You feel your breath hitch, your pulse racing even as you grit your teeth against the draw of him.

"Don't look at me like that," you snap, trying to keep the upper hand. You should leave. You know this, know you should storm out and leave him here with that damn arrogant smirk on his face.

Call it a truce, and do it all over again next time.

"What's wrong? Afraid you'll do something you'll regret?"

The challenge in his tone has you seething, heat blazing up your neck. "You're insufferable, you know that?” You try to sound as furious as you feel, but your voice wavers, and the corner of his mouth tilts in a dark, smug smile.

"Then leave, princess." His eyes flash, daring you, mocking you, yet he doesn't move back. "Go on. Show me that strength you keep talking about."

The words are meant to push you away, to test how much you can take, but they do something else instead. They push you over the edge, sending you surging forward before you even know what you're doing, fisting the front of his pristine shirt and yanking him down to you.

Your mouth meets his, all anger and fire, biting at his lips as he smirks against you, welcoming the aggression. His hands find your waist, pawing at your gown, pushing you back until you stumble against the bookshelf.

You try to hold onto the anger, to use it to keep yourself in control, but the way he kisses you—rough, possessive, familiar, with a hunger that seems to match yours—makes it impossible. His hands slip to your hips, fingers digging into you with a desire that you both pretend doesn't exist anywhere but here, in the dark corners of your little meeting places.

"Stop," you gasp for breath, pulling away for just a second, trying to steady yourself, but he follows, his mouth trailing down your jaw to your neck, biting down just enough to make you groan.

His fingers slip beneath the slit of your dress, finding bare skin. "Then tell me you don't want this."

Your head tilts back involuntarily, the blissed hitches in your breath becoming frequent. You should tell him to stop, but the words never come, not with his fingers tracing up your thigh, the pressure of his lean body against yours, the electric shiver that races through you as his mouth tongue dances with your own.

You give in, letting your anger melt into something messier, something that's been building between you both for so long you don't know how to unravel it. Your hands move to his white-blonde hair, pulling him closer. His hand slips higher, while the other is braced against the bookshelf behind you.

There's nothing careful about it—gone are the dynasty heirs who are unfailingly curated and perfect and genteel in the public eye. It's all frantic, hands grabbing, mouths clashing, neither of you willing to let the other take control but both of you giving in to the heat. He yanks your dress up, lifting you and positioning himself between your legs, his breathing rough as he makes quick work of his belt. Then he lets his trousers and underwear drop halfway down his thighs, and his cock springs free, pressing on the draped material of your gown, which you hurriedly bunch to the side.

It's like a sick power play when he takes two fingers and plunges them past your soaked entrance, right to his knuckles. All without breaking eye contact.

But neither has the upper hand. You and Aemond are one and the same.

"Seems like you're ready for me, princess."

"Mhmm, aghh—" He hooks his fingers inside you, hitting that damned spot. "Just fuck me already."

And when he does, his cock practically propping you up against the bookshelf, it's fast, chaotic, your movements nothing short of needy and desperate, as if you're both trying to prove something to the other. You don't care about the priceless first-edition books that rattle precariously behind you, nor about the way his fingers dig into your flesh that guarantee bruises that will show tomorrow. Right now, you're past caring, past pretending that you actually ever cared about anyone but yourself.

And maybe... Aemond.

His groans come out unrestrained against your neck, his tongue flicking over the droplets of sweat, as if he can't bear you being any less than perfect.

Only he can taint you, only he can see you broken in and fucked out like this, your lipstick smeared to the side of your mouth. That same shade of rouge littering his cheek, his jaw, the collar of his shirt.

No words are exchanged, as if they've been used up in your twisted version of foreplay from earlier.

All he offers is, "Fuck, baby, I'm close," as his hips continue in its assault, his hands buried in the softness of your arse, keeping you in place.

"So am I," you counter.

He falls apart inside you, his cock sputtering while lodged deep in your clenched walls. The near-animalistic growl he lets out brings you to your climax, your forehead falling against his as your entire body is rendered limp in his arms.

When you finally pull away, flushed, your heart still racing, he looks at you with that same arrogant smirk, and you can't help but feel the distaste rising back up.

"Still think I don't know you?" he murmurs, smug satisfaction written all over his face.

You glare at him, pulling your dress back down, refusing to let him have the last word even as his expression uncharacteristically softens as he gazes at you, making you want to pull him close and kiss him again. Gentler, this time.

"This can't happen again," you force out your usual lie.

"That's what you said last time, princess."

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#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen smut #hotd #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell x reader

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fictionismyreality3 · 4 months ago

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Before You Go (18+)

Warnings: romance and everything that come with it, SMUT AT THE END

Notes: thank u lana del rey for giving me this title 🫡 he’s so lana coded. we love our emotionally stunted bbg simon

Kisses with Simon weren’t always as easy as they had become over the years of you being together.

There was a time when Simon wouldn’t even let you touch anything but his hands or his arms. It took coaxing him like a scared animal, gentle words you offered again and again for him to finally take his balaclava off. That was a good night. You can still remember his shakiness, hands that had been so steady taking a life now quivering at the act of being known.

“Just fuckin’ hurry up.” He snapped, but the anger tasted more like fear when it left his mouth.

“You aren’t gonna want-”

The words of self-loathing barely met the air before you’d leaned down, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth. You held his hand as his breath heaved, not commenting on the way his whole body trembled when your lips finally connected with his.

Then there were kisses of maintenance.

At least, that’s what Ghost thought of them as. Keeping you as his slowly became the most important part of his life, the need to have you weaselled its way into his soul. He had no fucking clue how to how to make sure you stayed. He didn’t even really know why you showed up in the first place, but whatever gods that still thought he was worthy enough had given him you, and he wasn’t going to damage the opportunity.

You were his girl.

But Simon was oblivious to how to keep a woman happy. Yeah, he fucked you raw every chance he could, he beat the shit out of anyone you frowned at, but the gentleness you exuded existed nowhere in himself.

It was only when he’d been cleaning his guns, not on the kitchen table because you didn’t like that, that he got a little spark of understanding.

He had to take care of you.

Never letting you go without a reminder that he was always around. It started with morning and night kisses, making sure you were stuck with the taste of him even in your dreams. He’d find you when you were cooking, pressing his lips to your cheek or the top of your head without saying a word. It was nothing intense, just a subtle way that he made sure you were real.

“Si? You okay?” The weight of Ghost hugging you from behind made your heart warm, and you put down the wooden spoon you were holding.

“Yeah.” A kiss to your temple. “M’okay now.”

Marking you up with hickeys that even one of your oversized hoodies couldn’t cover was his way of maintaining your relationship, and knowing you had a visible memento of his claim on you every time you looked in the mirror helped him feel a little more secure.

And then there were the fervent kisses.

Lips colliding in the dim, warm light of your bedroom, Simon’s large hands holding your hips down as he kept you on his lap. He’d swallow every sound you made, knowing he had to leave in the morning. Not being able to see you for months, or even longer, spurred him with the urge to leave you with a lasting memory. He could have you forget him when he was gone.

It didn’t matter if you were tired, he’d force you down onto the bed, drawing mewls and gasps from your lips as he tried to memorize every detail of your body before he went off on his next mission. Latching his lips to the inside of your thighs, he’d suck hard enough to leave a hickey that would take weeks to fade.

“Not gonna leave ya.” He’d echo, kissing your clit like it would offer some form of protection for wherever he was being sent to.

“Gonna keep you all t’myself.” His soft lips would kiss at your even softer cunt, devouring every twitch and shudder that went through you. “Si. Si, I can’t-”

It didn’t matter if you’d been up all night, trapped under the weight of his hands while he ate you without faltering. “You can take it. C’mon, dovie, be a good girl an’ give me one more.” He wouldn’t stop until you were limp on the sheets and he was nose deep in your pussy, permanently engraving his name on your clit with his tongue.

And when he left in the morning, he left knowing your lips were sore.

#simon ghost x reader #simon smut #simon riley #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x female reader #simon riley x f!reader #ghost x f!reader #ghost x female reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #simon ghost x you

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lilja4ever · 1 year ago

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You know Lana Del Rey? In um, her song Venice Bitch the first line is "fear fun fear love / fresh out of fucks forever", and it's the third song on the album Norman Fucking Rockwell so it stands out. And Venice Bitch is as the title because - well it's a play on Venice Beach in um, California and California is a big part in Lana Del Rey's backstory, Del Rey is a town in California, but Lana Del Rey was born in New York. Her real name is Elizabeth Grant and her dad is a realtor, um, or he was, he makes music now. But Venice Bitch is a play on Venice Beach and the opening line mentions "fear fun" which is also the name of an album by Father John Misty and that album is also about California, and he's also not from California. But he's from Maryland not New York, and he's not a priest and isn't religious but he was raised Christian though and his real name is Joshua Tillman. And he has this song called The Night Josh Tillman Came to Our Apartment, but it's not on Fear Fun it's on the album after that. And there's a lot of lines in that song that make it sound like the unnamed celebrity the song is written about is Lana. The song is about um, how he slept with some famous woman and her best friend and hated her but she was really similar to him and all the things he complains about are things he does himself in the song. And Lana and Father John Misty get compared a lot because they have similar childhoods and um, really similar careers. But Father John Misty and Lana know each other and have known each other since 2012, and he was in the Freak music video which is one of her songs. But he's married but there's rumors that he has an open marriage because he said that in an interview in 2015 and his wife and Lana are best friends, so people think "fear fun fear love" is because her and Father John Misty are secretly dating, and the album is about dating a musician who is kind of an asshole. Norman Fucking Rockwell I mean, that album. Um, am I dreaming?

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godmadeaterribleerror · 2 months ago

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I Want You Only - A No Love Lost Bonus Chapter

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note:Whatever costume designer put Jensen Ackles in that Giants jersey in S3 you're a hero this one's for you.

Title from Chemtrails Over the Country Club by Lana Del Rey

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary/Warnings: You and Ben go shopping. Usual warnings.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, tooth-rotting fluff, pre-established relationship, smut (fingering, mirror sex, semi-public sex)

“I’m not fucking wearing that.”

You sigh, turning the fabric of the shirt between your fingers. “It’s a nice shirt, Ben, and it’s good quality, so it won’t tear-“

“I don’t give a fuck about it tearing.” Ben grumbles, half hanging around your body as his chin rests on the top of your head, glowering at the shirt. “It’s pink.”

“It’s light red-“

“It’s fucking pink, Sunshine.”

You try again, angling your head back to press a kiss to his jaw. “Stained white-“

“Pink.”

“Fine, pink. But,” you lean to the side, holding Ben’s glare with your sweetest, most innocent expression. “Why is that bad?”

He narrows his eyes, like he knows it’s a trap but isn’t quite sure how yet. He’s right, it is a trap—Ben’s not dumb, he’s just old and paranoid and grumpy—but, if he listens to you, it could result in an excellent new shirt, some ice cream, and a reward blowjob.

You’re not worried. Ben always listens to you.

“Girl color.” He grunts, and you wrinkle your nose at him.

“Girl color.”

“That’s what I damn said-“

“And why,” you drawl, leaning your head back onto his shoulder as you give a look of mock thought. “Is a girl color bad?”

“It’s not bad-“

“But you won’t wear it.”

“I’m not a fucking girl!” Ben snaps, and you can feel the sore, hot feeling of something like embarrassment covering his skin.

You let out a long, slow breath, tapping your fingers on his arm as you figure out how to work with this. You know Ben isn’t opposed to women as whole anymore—you being a stronger supe than he is and the tenth half-lecture half-joke about real gentlemen respecting that women are better at things sometimes had gotten the message through—but there are still these small remnants of the past stuck in his head. Small reminders that he is indeed a dinosaur, and the change is slow and long, but effective. And you know how to move with these ideas, how to point out that they’re, logically, kind of fucking stupid in a way he’ll understand, but it takes gentle words, an unmoving will, and a flat expression.

Luckily, you have all three.

“It’s a color, my love.” You say, holding his gaze. “And if I’m trying to buy it for you, do you really think you’ll be any less of a man to me because you’re wearing it?”

He scowls, muttering, “No.”

“And are you going to look bad in it?“

“I look good in damn everything,” he grumbles, and you can’t stop your small giggle.

“You do, you grumpy old ass. And do you think anyone,” you reach your free hand up, tracing your fingers over his beard. “Is going to look at you and think you’re not an overly masculine testosterone factory-“

“I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks-“

“You give a fuck what I think-“

“That’s not the same, I fucking love you-“

“Well I,” you give him a soft, adoring smile. “Think you’ll look very handsome and strong in pink. I think I love you because you’re you, not because you’re a man. I think you should wear the pink shirt, dumb dumb, because it’s just a color.”

Ben frowns, his jaw clenched, but you can feel his concrete resolve fading and crumbling, rebuilding back into pure care and rough affection as his hands start to rub on your hips.

“Fine.”

Your smile grows wide and bright, and you grab one of his hands in yours, moving it to the shirt. “Look, it’s soft, feel it-“

Ben doesn’t get to feel the shirt, because he rips his hand from yours, grabs your jaw, and tilts your head full back for a kiss. It’s long, and hungry, and leaves you dizzy as he holds you against his chest.

I’ll get the fucking shirt, brat. For you. Stop trying to damn convince me.

You nod, a little stupidly. Yeah. Okay.

Ben pulls back with a smirk, and scans over your open features, the pride and love glowing in his body as he swipes a little bit of drool away with his thumb. You’re hungry.

As if on his command, your stomach growls, and you just groan, closing your eyes as he chuckles.

“Stop doing that, Ben-“

“I’m not doing a damn thing, beautiful.” Ben nips at your nose, his grin growing. “Not my fault I know my fucking wi- woman. Let’s get you some food.”

You hum, and grab the shirt to add to your small basket of Ben clothes. Mostly jeans and solid color t-shirts, as well as one Hawaiian shirt to rub in Butcher’s stupid face and a pair of gray sweatpants that you’d been incredibly adamant be added to the collection. It all fits in one bag, adding to the collection of lingerie that’s all going be ripped off your body before the week is over, boring men’s boxers, and the makeup you don’t need but had fun explaining to Ben.

He’s carrying the rest of it—your clothing—because there’s more of them. The lingerie and makeup fit in tiny paper bags barely bigger than your forearms, and Ben’s boxers get stuffed in his still-small bag of clothing, but you have at least five bags of mostly cheap, poor-quality shirts and shorts and pants and skirts. It’s by design—clothing tends to be the most frequent victim of the fire aspect of your powers—but you still don’t love it. You don’t love how nothing in those bags feels like you. You don’t really need anything expensive or permanent, but you’d like to feel like you, at least a little.

You always feel like you with Ben. Under his attention or trading teasing words or tucked into his side. He guides you out of the shop, and you let him lead you through the mall, find a place that serves what he deems to be acceptable food—even if there are no burgers—and sit you down at a small, fancy table. He keeps some part of himself on your body the whole time, whether it’s a hand on your waist, or an arm over your shoulders, or a knee pressed a little between your legs. It’s a little intoxicating, and does absolutely nothing to help you focus on anything but Ben.

But you don’t need to focus on anything but Ben right now. This week is just for you both to do stupid things like shop and touch each other and eat. All you need to spare thought to is Ben, big and warm around you, certain and attentive across from you, so fucking handsome and strong and always good. Grumpy and old, but good.

All yours, and good.

“I’m proud of you,” you hum, watching him all but inhale the restaurant’s largest available pizza. “You managed to get through all the underwear shopping without fucking me.”

“You didn’t fucking wear any of them.” He grumbles, a large glob of sauce falling onto his chin. “All you’re wearing right now is my boxers, and that’s fucking-“ Ben cuts himself off, his love and hunger starting to pound at your chest. “That’s fucking hot. Let’s find a bathroom-“

“You are not fucking me in a public bathroom, Benjamin-“

“I’ve already fucked you in a public bathroom, Sunshine.” He winks at you, and you flush. “And it doesn’t have to be a bathroom, we can find a changing room-“

“No. No public sex, you horny cunt.” You glare at him, but your voice has lost a lot of its authority, because Ben’s grinning at you, and his knee is pressed to yours, and he’s swiped away the sauce from his beard and he’s licking his fingers clean just like he does after you cum on them-

“Seems like someone,” Ben drawls, and you can’t really think outside of his deep, teasing voice or handsome, insufferable, smug grin. “Has a real damn horny cunt, and might need me to fuck it before she starts drooling again-“

“Shut up.” You mutter, glaring at your plate of meatballs as Ben laughs. “You're such an asshole.”

He shrugs. “You love it.”

You sigh. “I do.”

Ben’s smile turns wide and smug, and you can feel something glowing and devout glowing along his ribs as he gives a satisfied nod and returns his attention to the pizza.

“I can call the taxi when we’re done.” You hum, poking at your plate with a fork. “It might take a minute to get here, so I can do it now-“

Ben freezes, frowning at you. “Why.”

“To go home? I mean we could walk, but it’s really far and we have a lot of bags-“

“I understand the fucking taxi,” Ben drawls your name, still frowning. “Why the fuck would you call it now.”

You blink at him, tilting your head. “So we can get home sooner-“

“We’re not done here.”

“I mean we’ll pay the bill-“

“No, Sunshine, the mall. We’re not done at the fucking mall.”

“Oh.” Your brows draw together as you try to figure out why his words are so firm, why there’s no ache or soreness in his body, but still stone-like care wrapped over your skin. “What?”

“You need more clothing.”

You look between the large bags—spilling out from under the table—and Ben, your voice becoming dry. “I really don’t think I do, Pretty Boy.”

“You hate all that shit.” He snaps, waving his hand to the same bags. “We’re getting you something you like. And don’t,” he raises one finger, pointing at you with a stern glare that makes your gut warm. “Try to fucking tell me you’re fine, or it doesn’t matter. I can fucking feel you, darling, and you hate it.”

You swallow, forcing words out as your whole world dissolves to Ben. “I don’t, I don’t love it, but it’s not worth getting more, I just burn through everything so it would be a waste of money-“

“If it makes you happy, it’s not a waste of fucking money.” Ben grunts, holding your gaze in that way that makes you feel entirely vulnerable and stripped apart for him to care and adore, and yet so incredibly safe. “We’re not leaving the mall until you get one damn thing you like. Got it?”

You don’t really have anywhere to be, or anything to do. You still have a disgusting amount of arguably stolen CIA money. Ben’s knee has somehow wedged itself fully between your legs, and you can feel his ardor roaring in his chest as he pays your bill, as heat starts to grow in your core, where Ben is just too far to touch.

“Got it,” you whisper, and Ben nods, grabbing your hand as he stands and helping you out of your seat.

“Good.” He kisses the side of your head, grabbing all the bags before you can protest or insist on carrying at least a few of them. “Let’s go.”

It takes two hours and four shops to find something. Ben is, predictably, incredibly unhelpful in making choices, because while the man is full of countless opinions about what he’ll wear, he has next to no thoughts on what you should wear.

“What about this?” You extend what might be the fiftieth dress from the rack for his to survey, and Ben—the dickhead—just shrugs.

“Get that.”

“Well, I don’t know if I want it-“

“Why the fuck not.”

“I don’t know if it would look good on me-“

“Everything looks fucking good on you, beautiful.” Ben grunts, and you sigh.

“That’s not helpful, Benjamin-“

“It’s the damn truth-“

“It’s your truth.” You lean your head on his shoulder, continuing to frown at the dress. It’s a nice dress, and it is a color that usually looks good on you, but it’s revealing and expensive and fancy, and you haven’t worn anything like it in four years. “You’re incredibly bias in my favor, my love. Other people who aren’t in love with me might think I look bad in this.”

“Nobody with fucking eyes is going to think you look bad,” Ben says your name in the shell of your ear, and you might have whimpered. “Get the damn dress.”

“But I might not-“

“You’re going to look fucking hot.” Ben doesn’t waver, moving to cage your path away from the dress. “You like it?”

You swallow, and nod. “I do, but-“

“If you try it on,” Ben mutters. “And prove me fucking right, will you buy the damn dress?”

“Yes-“

Ben’s moving before you can protest any further, somehow holding every bag on one arm so he can grab the dress, shove it into your hands, and guide you to the dressing room.

You’ve never seen him pout more than when the saleswoman hands you a key and tells him he can’t go in with you. You can feel it, sour and soft around his heart, and it would make you sad if you didn’t know he just really wanted to see you naked.

I’ll be right back. You lean down to where he’s dropped on a bench, kissing over his beard with a gentle smile. I love you.

I love you too, Ben mutters, pulling his violent glower away from the saleswoman to kiss you fully, tangling his hand in your hair and almost making you collapse onto his lap. Be fast.

You try to be. You don’t really love leaving Ben out there anymore than he likes it, mostly because he’s either going to start interrogating anyone else who tries to enter the changing rooms—where you are, where he can’t go, which to his overprotective, paranoid head, means where you’re in danger—but a little bit because this place is cold, and Ben is warm, and this is his stupid idea so he should have to help you.

Are you almost done.

It’s been three minutes, Pretty Boy. You frown at the mirror, readjusting the fabric and turning at awkward angles to try and see yourself better. Give me a minute.

There’s a pause, and then, Do you look hot.

I don’t know, Ben, I’m not the best judge of my own appearance-

Let me see it.

You roll your eyes at your own reflection. How.

I don’t fucking know, come out here.

You flush, glancing at your discarded clothing on the bench. I, um, I can’t.

Why the fuck-

I had to take off your boxers. They were too long.

Ben doesn’t respond, but a wave of hunger so powerful it almost knocks you off your feet crashed through your body, and suddenly the instinct of Ben, Ben, Ben starts to grow in your body. Everything feels sharper, and smells like pine, and there’s a feverish glow rioting in your chest only moments before the door to your changing room bursts open. Ben stomps in, his eyes on yours almost feral and blown out with lust, and he kicks to door closed without sparing a look behind him.

He scans you up and down, nostrils flaring as his throat bobs, and you feel the hunger grow insatiable as he gives a short, rough nod. Before you can open your mouth, ask how the hell he got in or remind him of the no public sex again rule, he’s moving, and you don’t really care about anything else anymore. Ben’s walked you backward, pressing you against the mirror and caging you between his arms, and when his mouth crashes into yours he’s ravenous. The kiss is brutal and long, stealing your breath in barely a moment and ruining you with just bruising lips and a tongue down your throat.

Ben-

Fucking Christ. He groans, and the sound rolls through your body, making you whimper. You’re so fucking perfect.

Please, Ben, fuck, please. You’re not sure exactly what you’re begging for, but you know you need Ben. That he’s big and strong and warm around you, and his mouth has dropped to suck and bite on your neck, and you’re grinding down onto his thigh but it’s not enough, it’s never enough, you need Ben and you’ll never have enough-

He spins you around without warning, wrapping an arm around your waist, trailing a warm hand down your stomach until it’s under your dress, and starting to rub your clit with two expert, broad fingers.

You’re a goddamn marvel, he mutters in your head, grabbing your chin with his free hand and forcing your gaze onto the mirror. Prettiest thing I’ve ever fucking seen, darling, so fucking wet and good for me.

Ben-

Look at you. His mouth starts to trial over your collarbone, smirking at your breathless, needy sound as you squirm in his hold. So fucking beautiful, all the damn time. When you’re getting smart with me, he nips at your shoulder, his eyes finding yours in the mirror. Bossing me around, his fingers leave your clit, but before you can moan in protest they’re shoved deep inside you, pumping and scissoring as his thumb continues to play with that bundle of nerves. Getting fucking wrecked on my hand. Always so perfect, Sunshine.

God, you let out a loud moan, unable to care who might hear you as Ben’s fingers crook against the sweet, spongy spot inside of you. Benjamin, fuck, please-

Want to cum, darling?

Yes, yes please-

His fingers are gone in a second, and you make a desperate noise of protest that turns into a half-scream as his cock shoves into you from behind. You’d have fallen over if Ben hadn’t pinned your body upright, and fuck this is everything, Ben is everything, he’s splitting you open and groaning and kissing over your shoulders and throat and jaw, and Ben-

Fuck, he grunts your name in your head, setting a brutal, skin slapping pace that makes your eyes roll back in your head. You’re fucking perfect, strangling my fucking cock, taking me so good, so fucking pretty, Sunshine, so fucking wet and good for me-

Please, you reach behind you, trying to angle his face to yours. Ben, fuck- Please-

Ben’s hand trails back up your stomach, pulling one tit out of the dress and rolling your nipple between his fingers. Cum for me, beautiful, soak my fucking cock-

You spasm around him, shivering and shaking and making lewd, needy sounds as Ben fucks you through your orgasm, his thrusts growing erratic as he watches you in the mirror.

Good girl, so fucking good, fuck- He pinches your nipple as you grow slack in his arms, taking everything he gives you as your body grows sensitive. Fucking beautiful, so fucking perfect-

Ben, you whimper, your body already overloading as he drags you back to the edge, his cock hitting every right spot in your cunt. Ben-

He buries his face in your neck as he cums, muffling his groan on your skin as he spills into your body. It sends you over the edge with him—everything hazy and your vision blurred with the pure, blissful feel of Ben—and when you both come down you’re panting and flushed and squeezing around Ben’s softening cock, still twitching inside you.

“Buy the stupid dress, Sunshine.” Ben mutters, kissing your neck and holding your gaze in the mirror. “You look like a fucking work of art.”

You’re going to have to buy the dress now, because Ben’s fucked you in it and it smells like his salty, heady cum. But he’s also not lying, because you look a little wild and dazed, but you are beautiful. It’s easy to believe that when Ben says it, because his voice is always borderline stern, and he doesn’t lie. Ben could tell you anything about yourself, about how good and perfect and beautiful you are, and as long as he’s like that—his release dripping down your thighs, his head buried in the crook of your neck, and his hands tracing patterns on your hips—you’d believe him.

And you think there are worse fates than that, so you smile, and nod, and give in.

Ben makes it so impossibly simple to smile, and nod, and give in.

End Note: She crumbled under 0 pressure to have sex in public (again). Same.

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eee-lordy · 1 year ago

Note

Hiiii! Can you write about jacob elordi x fem reader who is in charge of the makeup and outfits on saltburn or elvis?

Maybe there is a video going viral where he is looking at her (WITH THOSE PUPPY DOG EYES HAHSHAJDVDSJ IM GONNA EAT HIM) while she is doing his make up and she is clueless, yk those videos where the music is lana del rey and the caption is like "me when im literaly obsessed with her" or "when hes completely in love with u>>>>>"

And when that goes viral, the cast teases him and they go on a date?

Idk i think its cute :3

───※ ·❆· ※───

You were never one to get star struck. In the year and a half you'd been professionally applying makeup to the mugs of many stars, you'd been unfazed by celebrities captivating auras. You hardly blushed when Chris Pine tried asking you out as he sat in your makeup chair. You'd laughed in understandable assurance as Billie Eilish apologized for almost knocking your powder kit from your grasp; when her brother burst in the room to surprise her. You saw your clients as just that, people who trusted you to properly apply blush and fake scars.

But all the composure you'd been proud to claim went out the window when you'd been assigned to work with the cast of Sofia Coppola new film. You hadn't expected to lose your cool. In fact, you'd been rolling your eyes as the hair stylist that shared your caravan had droned on and on about this new Elordi fellow and how dreamy he was. Some of the other workers in the hair and makeup department parroted her yearning for the guy. But you were certain you'd remain calm and cool in this supposed deities presence.

And then he sat down in your chair. And he looked up to you with an intriguing set of droopy dark eyes. And you knew Jacob Elordi was about to be a real problem for you.

It wasn't his fame. You weren't swept up by his essence because of the collective crowd on the internet drooling over the guy. It wasn't even his magnetism. Because he did have a lot of that, you wavered it was necessary to survive fame. But it was more the way he would look up at you from that make up chair. With those dumb stupid big beautiful eyes. And his smile that followed. And then the infuriating way he'd start conversations with you, those first few days on set.

"What'd you have for breakfast this morning?" Jacob would wonder, watching as you readied a sponge. You would answer and ask for his in return. He would mention stopping by a cafe earlier and go on to ask you where you grew up and if you liked it there and what the best book you've ever read was called.

"You've got to stop chatting away, makes it hard to do your touch up's." You'd smile, reaching out to adjust Jacobs perfect fucking face so you could work on his brows.

"Sorry." He breathed out, seemingly genuinely guilty. He went on explaining himself still, slowly as you continued to do your job. "Don't like awkward silence. Or bullshit small talk. Getting to know you seemed like the safest route. Since you'll be covering the dark circles under my eye's this whole shoot."

You laughed in understanding before announcing that you got it, and waved over the hairdresser on site today.

"Wait, before you go, that book you mentioned..." Jacob pointed your way as you turned for closing up your kit of brushes. Then you watched as the guy wrestled his cellphone from his jacket pocket. "Here," Jacob said, extending the device your way. "Write the title in my notes app. I will forget, but I don't want too. It sounded properly readable."

"Oh." You turned your lips down in a twisted grin of surprise. As you took the device from Jacob's grasp, you felt a surge of gratification that the guy trusted you enough with his phone let alone wanted to read a book you mention not having read since uni.

Not missing the way the hairdresser rolled her eyes, you grinned and found Jacobs notes app with ease, straining not to glance beyond your means. With the press of a few buttons you wrote down the title, and fought off the impulsive urge to include your very own phone number as well. That would be embarrassing, knowing full well this man would never call or text or probably even dare to glance your way beyond the makeup chair.

///

The next few weeks went by the same. Jacob would yammer away until you almost had to hold his mouth shut to finish his makeup. And you would fill the silence by telling stories of your own, because he'd mentioned he wasn't fond of silence and you knew your job went beyond applying lip liner, it was also to keep celebrities happy as royalty.

And all the while you blinked away thoughts of how funny he was. How beautiful Jacob was. You wouldn't let yourself realize he was exactly your type. You wouldn't let yourself dream that you might be his. You simply relished the times you made him laugh. Once you made him laugh so hard he cried, tear tracks ruining the powder you'd only just applied.

The hairdresser who was the leader of fawning over Jacob as soon as he left the room had taken to frowning in your direction most days. You reckoned it was because she'd never been able to make him laugh that hard, or at all, ever. And the stories she told him when he asked her to seemed to lose his interest halfway through every time. Try as Jacob might, you saw his eyes glaze over as the hairstylist droned on about her retirement plan or the grocery list she'd put together that day.

After acknowledging her sorry excuse for conversation Jacob would stop you from packing up and heading to lunch so he could ask you for more books to read, more films to watch, more stories from you. Then his assistant would interrupt, or he'd be called to set and you'd be left to head to the craft table with dangerous feelings of lust and intrigue to push away. You would not let this boy break you of your career long streak of professionalism, damn it.

///

One night, in the middle of a week break from set, you spent an evening scrolling mindlessly. When a tiktok with Jacob's name in the tags popped up, you scrolled away at the speed of light. You didn't let yourself linger too long on posts with him there, not wanting to know anything good bad or otherwise so long as you were assigned to work with him on this project. But it wasn't long before another tiktok popped up featuring the guy in a very familiar setting. He was too famous at this point. You watched as you saw leaked footage from behind the scenes of Priscilla, but weren't too shocked. The stars of the film were occasionally being interviewed by publicists between takes to document their experience, beginning to promote the film.

And maybe you let yourself keep watching out of a sense of entitlement, you'd been working on this set. You could watch a video of Jacob from work, right? You couldn't tear your eyes from him no matter how hard you tried now anyway. You watched as the person holding the camera zoomed in on the guy while he adjusted his suit jacket. You watched as he seemed to talk to the costars at his side. You watched as he looked up and smiled. And you couldn't help but melt a little at the sight, he seemed so happy, so at ease. And then you watched as Jacob's grin widened as he waved someone closer. And much to your horror, you saw yourself step into frame.

You remembered that day, where you waited on the side lines to fix Cailee's eyeliner. While the director was storming up a new camera angle, Jacob waved you over to mention the last chapter of your favorite book he'd almost finished reading. He was laughing over a bit that you'd warned him about the week before. And you were laughing over how excited he was about it, finally having someone to gush over your favorite plot with.

Now, huddled beneath the blankets of your bed, you slammed your phone down at your side, bewildered to know someone had caught your interaction on camera. Raddled to have just seen Jacob lighting up at the sight of you. Angry at yourself for hopping you'd read his body language in a way that suggested he really liked you that much.

When you picked your phone back up, you watched the candid moment over and over, trying to debunk Jacob's smile. Trying to convince yourself he was only being friendly, only cared because he had to find someone to mingle with during down beats.

And then you read the comments.

"If Jacob smiled at me like that, I would die."

"Imagine making him laugh like that she's so lucky."

"Who is she??" One comment read. "Her last name will be Elordi if he hasn't married her already, calling it." Someone replied.

You shouldn't have read the comments.

///

When you were due back on set you swallowed away the excitement bubbling up in you at the prospect of seeing Jacob again. This was so unlike you, to be awaiting the arrival of your client with an embarrassing giddiness. As you reminded yourself that this was your job and Jacob was simply a guest in your makeup chair- the man himself eased into the caravan, ready to get ready for the day.

"Hey, you! I had a bunch of points earned up to get two free coffees so I brought you one. I remember you said you like almond milk so I asked for that." Jacob was all smiles as he extended a latte to you. Awe fuck.

"Thank you, Jacob." You struggled not to sigh with angst as you accepted his very generous surprise. Luckily, he seemed none the wiser that you'd answered through gritted teeth. He just kept smiling as he headed to your chair.

"Oh, me first today lovie. Need to start your dye straight off, you're little makeup girlfriend will have to wait." The hairdresser announced, daring to grab Jacob by his sleeve, yanking him toward her end of the trailer. The other workers around rolled their eyes, sick of her endless commentary. You bit your tongue as you leaned against the counter, shaking your head when a coworker scoffed in the hairdresser's direction. Luckily, Cailee waltz in, ready for you before anyone else. You thanked God for the distraction, readying your brow pencil and chatted to the girl about her break from set.

All the while, your least favorite coworkers voice demanded to be the loudest in the room. She made everyone listen to some boring ass story and practically whinnied when Jacob got up to trade Cailee places.

"No offence, you're fine and all, just don't have hair as silky smooth as Jacob's." The hairdresser told Cailee but made sure her comment was loud enough for everyone to hear. "Oh wait, silly me,"

As Jacob settled in the makeup chair and began to ask if the drink he'd brought you was good, the hairdresser of your nightmares shoved her way between you and the person you were meant to be working on.

"I left of a bobby pin, how'd I forget," She droned in an annoying pitch, nearly shoving you over in her attempt to get closer to Jacob.

"Can you please get out of my space?" You called, annoyed that she was pushing you away from your station without a single polite excuse.

"Can you please stop being such a jealous bitch?" The hairdresser whipped to face you with a manic smile.

"Oh my God?" You almost laughed in shock at her comment when another coworker dared to reach out and pulled her away, and out of the trailer. Another hairdresser apologized to the room for the previous girl's behavior and stepped up to lead charge of Cailee's wig.

With no time to shake the rage that had been born in you, you pushed it down, biting your lip hard as you went about finding the right sponge for Jacob's foundation.

"Are you okay?" He asked, seemingly worried. And that pissed you off too. Why'd he have to act like he cared so much? Why'd he have to be so damn wonderful?

"I'm fine. Thank you again for the coffee, it...is kind of bitter but it was a really sweet gesture, I swear. Close your eye's please." You responded as calm and cool as possible.

"Bitter... sweet..." Jacob winked, just for you to see. It was the best thing you'd ever witness. And the worst all the same. You were sure you blushed. You tilted his chin and struggling to suppress how much you'd miss when you didn't get to be this close to him. He stayed quiet as you finished his face, and so did you. When his makeup was done, almost everyone else had left the trailer. The last remaining beautician was walking out as you'd closed the case to your kit.

"I thought you didn't like awkward silence." You dared to mention, as Jacob stood to leave. It wasn't like you'd thought to ask. It was just a thought that ended up blurted out. And then you were bold enough still to look up and right at the guy with those perfectly shaped eyes to find he'd already been staring right at you.

"S'not so awkward with you."

You really wish he hadn't said that. You really wished you'd never prompted him too. You really wished he wasn't still standing there looking across the features of your face like he was waiting on you to respond. There was a knock on the door just in time, and a voice calling for Jacob to hurry to set.

"I'll see you after lunch, right?" Jacob wondered as he moved toward the door. You muttered something like "Yeah sure," as you turned to start collecting your things. As far as Jacob knew you were headed to the craft table. But as your feet started marching out of the trailer, you found yourself headed toward the manager of the crew you'd been hired in with. You explained to her that you really thought it was best you turned in your resignation.

You'd never dared yourself to tread the line during work. Never been so enamored with someone you were meant to be professional with. It wasn't in your best interest to see how far this went. And it wasn't in Jacobs best interest that you kept lingering around distracting him with stories and novel suggestions.

So, on a decided whim, you packed your things, swallowed frustrated tears, and headed home for good.

///

You let yourself be mad once your front door was shut and locked. You threw away the stupid coffee Jacob bought you. You turned the telly off and tossed the remote toward the hardwood when Euphoria came on. You muttered and cursed and slammed cabinets as you made a carb heavy comfort meal and called your best friend.

The day went on and turned to night as you tried to stop feeling sorry for yourself. You began getting ready for bed, talking yourself into sleeping off all the weird feelings and events that had transpired today. Tomorrow, you'd find a new job and make sure to decline any with that one awful hairdressers name on the list of beauticians.

As you sat on the edge of your bed and set a reminder for yourself to job hunt tomorrow afternoon, a notification interrupted your typing.

Instagram was alerting you that one certain Jacob Elordi was sending you a fucking message. He'd followed you a couple weeks ago, when you handed him your phone to show him a picture of your beloved childhood pet. He scrolled away from it and found your handle to promptly pull up on his very own Instagram, following you with a smile.

Your eyes widened and your thumb worked faster than your brain, clicking the popup before you could talk yourself out of it. Oh, shit now he was going to know you opened his fucking stupid ass message. You really wished you hadn't met this boy. He wasn't even here and he was torturing your every thought.

"You were NOT there after lunch as promised. Call me? xx"

Before your eyes displayed a row of numbers that if pressed would call Jacob Elordi's cell phone. You tried really hard to talk yourself out of it. But being away from him for the last ten hours had really done a number on your heart. It missed him more than your brain was afraid to admit. Your thumb clicked the numbers. Your phone started to ring.

After one buzz he answered.

"I got off set to hear you'd quit and left me to bear that horrid hairdresser without you? Was the coffee really that bad?" Jacob's voice crackled through the line, soft and saccharine. You chuckled morosely at his coffee joke before responding.

"No pleasant greeting. What if it wasn't me calling? What if it was some crazy fan girl?" You dared to venture.

"Are you saying you're not a fan of mine?"

You wanted to assure him that you were probably his biggest, but sighed in place of a response, struggling to choose your words.

"What happened? That hairdresser should be fired. You shouldn't've left." Jacob spoke, as you watched the traffic out your window and relished the sound of his voice in your ear.

"It..." You couldn't help it. You couldn't hide it any longer. "It wasn't really her. I quit because of you, Jacob."

"Me? I- I'm sorry I thought we-" He sounded too worried, and you realized you'd spoken a little too cryptically.

"Not because you did anything wrong." You hurried to explain, interrupting his unnecessary apology. "It's me, not you."

"Is this a break up? I never even got to ask you on a proper date." He laughed a humorless laugh.

"That's the thing." You said. "I like you way more than I should've ever let myself. It's too unprofessional for me to work with you and have these feelings. I'm sorry, I shouldn't even be telling you this. Everyone treats you like a piece of meat, I hate that I-"

"So... what I'm hearing..." Jacob's voice rose a bit as he interrupted you, catching your attention off guard. "Is that I can actually ask you on a proper date? And this doesn't have to be a break up at all."

"Oh! I- wait are you joking?" You blurted, shocked by the tone of his voice and the fact that it seemed like Jacob Elordi was asking you out.

"I like you too, dummy. I've been doing my damnedest to make that clear. You know I don't just follow every wardrobe artist on Instagram and bring camera men cafe treats. I used my free coffee on you! I'm so sorry it was no good though."

"It wasn't the worst coffee ever." You smiled, feeling a calm and hopeful buzz wash over you.

"Well, let me take you on a proper date, for a proper cup of coffee, and talk you back on set."

"I can date you, or be your makeup artist, but I will not allow myself to do both. I have a very strict moral compass as a working lady."

"I'll choose the first option then by a long shot." You could hear Jacob's smile in the tone of his voice. You let him ramble a little longer about the day he'd had and how bad he felt that you'd been moved to quit. He asked you to meet him at the cafe across from the set during lunch tomorrow, and you promised you would in fact show up without a doubt this time.

Fuck finding a new job tomorrow. You were going on an absolute dream date with Jacob. But you were most definitely ordering your own coffee.

#thanks nonny! this was really fun to write #jacob elordi fanfic #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi x fem!reader #jacob elordi

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minluvrz · 8 months ago

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SALVATORE - art donaldson & patrick zwig

cw ; nsfw! smut n handjobs

wc ; 1.7 k

[ notes- i am obsessed with salvatore by lana del rey. the title has no real significance. i also did not proofread this. but anyways, I haven't written in over two years and i actually hate this, but i am so attached to challengers that it's upsetting. take this fic about what happens in the hotel room after tashi leaves! ]

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

The deafening slam of the hotel room door was enough to shake both Art and Patrick from their Duncan-induced trance. Though the room was filled with comfortable silence, Art found his mind racing, trying to rationalize his emotions. He was painfully aware of his throbbing erection, but the source was less than concrete. Making out with Tashi Duncan on a shoddy hotel bed was enough to arouse anybody, but what Art felt was deeper than that.

The slow, teasing feeling of Tashi's lips on his, the scent of her light floral perfume as he leaned in to trail kisses up the column of her neck, Patrick's warmth invading his personal space, the licks of Patrick's tongue against his –

“Holy shit.”

Patrick's voice came out shallow– slightly wrecked as if he couldn't believe what transpired. Which he couldn’t. The Tashi Duncan was just in bed with him. And he had also just made out with his best friend, but that was beside the point.

Patrick looked over at Art, to assess if he too was in the same state. He was met with pink-flushed cheeks and even redder ears. Art was leaning back on his elbows on the bed, his chest rising and falling deeply, labored breaths escaping his mouth. Patrick would be lying through his teeth if he said he didn't feel his dick twitch at the sight. Trying to mask his condition with humor, he spoke,

“Somebody’s excited.” Patrick's signature side-smirk grazed his face as Art turned his head to the left to face him

“Shut the fuck up, Patrick.”

“So what? We’re just gonna sit here until our boners go down?” Patrick reached for the nightstand to grab his box of cigarettes and a lighter. Placing it between his lips, he lit the end and took a long drag. Art's eyes quickly flicked downwards to watch the movement of Patrick's lips against the cigarette, remembering the fleeting feeling of his lips. He painstakingly tore his eyes away and spoke.

“What else are we supposed to do? Take turns jerking off in the bathroom?”

He spoke sarcastically, making eye contact with Patrick. He breathed out a small cloud of smoke and shrugged his shoulders.

“We don’t have to go to the bathroom.”

Patrick avoided Art’s quizzical glance and continued,

“I mean it’s nothing we haven't seen before. And we did it back in the day-”

“That was once.”

Still, Patrick's hand gravitated towards his crotch. He didn't want to cross a boundary, but the pulsing and sticky mess in his boxers begged otherwise. His other hand passed Art the cigarette to test the waters.

“Shit man, I mean you do you.”

Patrick didn’t miss the way that Art’s eyes dug holes into his erection. Taking this as an ‘Okay,’ Patrick's hand finally made contact with his cock through his boxers. He bit his lip to contain the otherwise embarrassing moan that would have slipped out. Art watched the tantalizingly slow strokes he took up and down his clothed dick, feeling his own twitch wildly. He sat up and nonchalantly placed his body closer to Patrick on the bed.

Eventually, Patrick found his pace and his head knocked back against the headboard, a shaky groan coming with it. He kicked his leg out from under him, placing it on Art’s bare leg. The touch set both of their skin on fire, a gasp escaping Art’s mouth. The urge for friction on his dick was becoming unbearable, and he lowered the waistband of his boxers down.

Patrick let out an unabashed, pornographic moan at the sight of Art’s cock and shoved his hand into his boxers to feel skin-to-skin contact. Suddenly, Patrick was reminded of the past, The time at the Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy. When it was pitch black in their shared room, Patrick had to bite back gasps and moans to not wake Art. The time when he showed Art how to jerk off. Whilst Art was thinking about their crush in her all-too-short tennis skirt, Patrick was getting off to the sound of Art’s whines as he finally came.

In real-time, he let out a loud whimper as his hips bucked up towards his fist.

“What are you thinking about?” He plucked the cigarette out of his mouth and shoved it onto a ceramic plate on the nightstand.

Art's voice echoed in his ear, far too close for comfort. However, he liked it, he liked the uncomfortable stickiness on his hand, the uncomfortable heat radiating off of their bodies, the discomfort of him uncovering his true feelings towards Art.

“N- No way man, can’t fucking say it.” A fucked out grin appeared on Patrick’s features as he leaned his head onto Art’s shoulder. Art’s entire body tensed, but his dick couldn't deny how he truly felt as a glob of precum slid down his length.

His original thoughts about the warmth of Tashi’s thighs and the way her tongue felt against his were replaced with Patrick's. The warmth of his body against his own, the smell of cigarettes, the smell of him. His eyes trailed down to Patrick's hand moving furiously over his cock, squeezing at the angry red tip. Art trailed his hand soothingly up and down Patrick's arm, cooling the fire that he felt throughout his entire body.

Patrick tilted his head upwards to look at Art, and suddenly everything felt very real. He couldn’t explain why he was in bed with his best friend and jerking his cock, but he didn't fucking want it to stop.

“You have a nice dick, Art”

“S-Shut up Pat, don’t make this weird.”

Though his sentence was meant to sound assertive, and dominant, the last few words ended up coming out in a whiney moan as Patrick's hand grazed his upper thigh.

“It’s already pretty fucking weird, don’t you think?” He laughed out, slowing the pace on his cock.

Art’s rushed breathing and choked-out moans and gasps were the only sounds he could focus on, other than the slick noises coming from his crotch. He wasn’t sure how or when they got this close, shoulder to shoulder, heads leaning back on the headboard.

“You close, Art?

Though he would’ve usually settled on a snappy response, he was far too desperate to be sassy.

“Yes, yes, fuck– I’m so fucking close.”

He turned his head to make eye contact with Patrick, their noses brushing in the process. They were so close, they were practically breathing in each other's air. Fighting the urge to smash their lips together. Patrick instead gripped Art’s wrist, stopping his movements.

The sound that ripped through Art’s chest had them both pause in silence. It was almost primal, in between a whimper and a sob. Patrick almost came right then and there.

“Fuck.”

Patrick placed his own hand on the base of Art’s cock, and kept it there for a moment, just barely squeezing.

Art’s hips involuntarily chased the heat of Patrick's hands, and then the begging started.

“Please, please, please, I’m almost fucking there– please keep going, I promise I’ll be good–”

Patrick had to rip the hand on his own cock away as he almost lost his composure. But anyways, who was he to deny his best friend pleasure?

He started a brutal pace on Art’s cock, squeezing the tip and occasionally digging a fingertip into the slit. His free hand came to push down on Art’s hips to prevent him from squirming too much. Art’s moans pitched higher and higher, and Patrick was sure that they were going to wake up to noise complaints the next morning.

“You gonna cum for me, Art?” Patrick's voice came out wrecked. “Gonna make a mess all over my hand?”

Art couldn’t even find the time to respond as he felt his abs flex and let out a sob as he came all over his best friend’s hand. Patrick kept going, stopping only when Art's large hand gripped his.

“Fuck– that’s enough.”

Art slumped against Patrick's body, taking a moment to catch his breath. Before he could think about what he was doing, he pressed his lips against Patrick's once again. The kiss was fiery, all tongue and spit. Art pulled away, but not before biting on Patrick's bottom lip with a playful tug.

Patrick interlaced Art’s hand with his own and led it to his neglected cock. He moved both of their hands in tandem up and down his length, taking care to swirl their fingers over his tip. Art took mental notes on what movements gained reactions. He whimpers when he digs a finger into the slit of his cock, moans when he lightly nips at his neck, and nearly cries when he rubs his palm in circles over the tip.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum–.”

Patrick closed his grip on Art, forming a tight circle with their hands. He began unabashedly fucking into their hands – mostly Art’s, and let out a loud groan as he finally came. Art appreciated the warmth of it as it dripped down his fingers, and without thinking, he brought his fingers to his mouth. He licked each of them clean, swirling his tongue around his pointer finger while making eye contact with Patrick.

Without missing a beat, the brunette swung his legs off the side of the bed and stood to his feet. He swiped a sock off of the floor threw it at Art’s face, and grabbed another article of clothing for himself.

“Clean yourself up. I don't want another spilled milk incident.”

“I just made you cum and you're still treating me like an asshole.”

Patrick snorted as he turned his back and walked into the bathroom. He let out a large sigh as he shut the door behind him. The lines of their relationship were starting to blur, and he had no idea what to do about it. He had two options. Pretend this shit never happened, or go to the point of no return. Pushing down the thoughts, he washed his hands and looked up into the mirror. He looked absolutely fucked– to put it gently. However, what gained his attention the most was the red-purple splotches on his neck

“Art Donaldson!”

He stormed out of the bathroom and returned to find Art lying on his back, playing with cards. He sat up as Patrick gestured to his neck.

“We have a fucking match tomorrow, and you decided to give me hickeys?”

Art feigned disappointment and responded,

“You’re a bit of a whore anyways, I thought you’d like it.”

“Do me a favor and shut the fuck up, Art.”

#art donaldson #patrick zweig #challengers #artrick #patrick x art #artpatrick #challengers smut #art donaldson smut #patrick zweig smut #need that #challengers fic

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snoopyhughes · 13 hours ago

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it's you, it's you, it's really all for you (nh13)

Happy winter fic exchange @puckology101 !!! For the plot I had in mind, I didn't think a Swiss Alps trip was realistic but I hope this does the trick. I tried to detail the beautiful Banff scenery as best as I could (especially for someone who has never been!) so I hope you could truly envision that.

As always, @wyattjohnston Demi thank you so much for hosting this event for our community!

This is 2k+ words, I don't believe there's any mentions of any defining traits but I have not done a thorough check to ensure that this is safe for all to read. If you would like me to do that, shoot me a message and I'm more than willing to double check.

Title from Video Games by Lana del Rey (the live version, iykyk) this is loosely edited!

Nico Hischier, in hind sight, was thrilled that Switzerland was not a part of the four nations tournament. His logical, captain sense knows that he should want to play hockey all the time, work on his game, and he does really love international play. However, he needed a break. The high powered, adrenaline filled season had taken a toll on his body and his mental capacity.

But deep down, he was thrilled. Because that means he gets to go on a trip with his best friend, Y/N. When some of the guys who weren't going to four nations decided to get a group together and take a trip to Banff, complete with skiing, the beautiful winter scenery, and two hot tubs on the property, he jumped on the opportunity, even faster when he knew Y/N could come with.

Dawson insisted that he invited his girlfriend because he promised her a trip on the all star break but she ended up not being able to go. Soon enough, almost all of the guys were inviting their partners, save for Luke who insisted on bringing his best friend Dylan Duke, never one for formalities with girls.

Nico was chronically single, but always by choice. He does not have enough fingers and toes to count the amount of times he's tried to show you how much he loves you, more than a friend, but it never works. Either you're lovingly clueless or you don't feel the same way, the latter causing a pit in his stomach. That being said, Nico will always pick you as his plus one to pretty much anything. If you ever suggest that he find a real date, someone who he might want to be romantically involved with, he shrugs it off immediately, letting you know that "he doesn't have time for a relationship right now" and that "you make him happier than any relationship ever could."

Everything leading up to the trip was relatively smooth. The private jet flight (that you'd never get used to) was like flying on a resort, you were able to get time off work with no problem, and even the packing didn't seem like as much of a chore as it usually does. But things started getting interesting as soon as you, Nico, and the group made it to the ski resort. You always knew you'd be sharing a room, that much never bothered you. You'd shared hotel rooms with him before, having not been a first timer on an all star break trip, which is essentially what this was. Coincidentally, all of the people on the trip ended up with rooms right next to each other. When you opened the door, you saw one huge king bed staring right at you.

You and Nico shared a look, assuming that your room may have gotten mixed up with the others. Sure enough, when you knocked on everyone's door, they all had the same set up as you. The only room with two beds on the floor, it seemed, belong to Luke and Dylan. You thought of asking them to switch, but you could only imagine Luke's dramatics and theatrics if you tried to suggest switching rooms.

"It really doesn't bother me, Y/N. As long as it doesn't bother you, I'm fine with it. Besides, did you see the size of that bed? It could probably fit a third person in there also." You really didn't know why you were so nervous. Of course, you had known you had feelings for Nico. But you always felt that Nico could never have any feelings for you. You had watched Nico flirt with girls in the bar after games, even on the trips you went on, awkwardly tagging along on his side. It was the same way he flirted with you sometimes. It made you feel like you were just another girl for him to flirt with. He had a naturally flirty personality, and you were just another person who came in contact with that.

As you opened the door to the bedroom again, accepting your fate, you took a second to look around and truly take in the room. You were amazed at what you saw. When you first walked into the room, you could clearly see the bathroom, with a jacuzzi tub and a waterfall shower, and even a double vanity sink. In addition to the huge bed, there was a massive TV set up across from it, some of the softest towels you've ever countered in your life, and a huge glass sliding door. When you moved the curtains, you couldn't help the gasp that had came over your mouth.

Nico had seen tons of beautiful mountain scenery in his lifetime, growing up in Switzerland. He had seen the mountains, the snow, all of it. And sure, you had seen snow. It was usually tinged with grey and brown, tire tracks and footprints ruining its true beauty. This, this pure, unaltered beauty of the mountain scene in Banff, it took your breath away. Nico couldn't help but smile, seeing your pure joy, watching the breath get stolen from your mouth as you observed the scenes around you.

"Nico this is... wow," you gasped, leaning in when he wrapped his arm around you, feeling him rest his head atop of yours. Your heart fluttered, feeling like you were meant to be here. "You're my best friend," you smiled nuzzling into his side. "Yeah, my best friend."

You should've known with the room situation that the guys were up to something. After all, Dawson insisted on booking the rooms, saying that Nico deserved a break from his "captain duties," causing Nico to rebut that "booking rooms on a vacation is hardly a 'captain's duty.'" But when you turned away from the mountains, you were beginning to discover that it was possible that you and Nico had gotten the "honeymoon suite." You had your own private hot tub on the deck of your room, the first floor patio backing up into a beautiful mountain scene. You imagined snow falling onto your face and hair as you and Nico lounged in the hot tub together. Your cheeks heat up at the thought, causing you to pull away from Nico. You couldn't allow yourself to get too caught up in the what ifs. If Nico really wanted to make a move on you, he would make a move, not the same move he had made hundreds of other times.

You found yourself in your bathroom getting ready with the other girls that were on the trip. Nico had already gotten ready and was downstairs at the bar drinking with the guys. Since you had gotten in to the resort after 5, you knew no skiing would be happening, so you made reservations at a nice restaurant in downtown Banff.

"So, how's it going with you and Nico? Do you like the room?" Dawson's girlfriend giggling, nudging you in the side. "I knew that couldn't have been accidental. Dawson seemed way too excited watching me trying to figure out how to unlock the room door," you laughed, nudging her right back. "It's so foolish. You both clearly love each other, but neither of you will make a move. It makes no sense. If you guys won't do it, someone else had to try it." You sighed, putting the cap on your lip gloss.

"I know what you mean, but I really don't think Nico likes me back. He acts the same way with every other girl he's come across. If Nico really wants to be with me, I want him to make it known, make it obvious. Do something that lets me know that it's me only, not me and the girls at the bar, not me and the girls who wait for him after games, just me." Whether you realized it or not, the other girls were silently taking notes, and as soon as you went to the bathroom at dinner, they told Nico.

When you arrived with the girls at the restaurant, you learned the guys were already waiting at a table. Nico's eyes lit up when he saw you, smiling wide and blushing at your prolonged eye contact. As you came closer to the table, he took a step toward you, pulling you into a hug. His large hand ran along your back as he pulled you in close, causing goosebumps to raise up your arms and on the back of your neck.

"You look absolutely stunning," he whispered in your ear, causing your cheats to heat up, a smile just as big as Nico's. Nico only pulled away to pull your chair out for you, again causing your cheeks to heat up, the girlfriends smiling around you, although you had genuinely no idea because you couldn't stop staring at Nico.

They wondered how you couldn't see how much he cared for you, more than anyone, especially any other girl. Even the guys could see how much he cared for you. The girls understood deep down, knowing how difficult it can be to be able to fully trust a man, especially if you had been hurt in the past by one. Because yes, they were taking notes to share with Nico. But they really didn't need to. And everything they told him, he already knew.

He knew exactly where you'd want to eat, knowing that you craved your comfort food when you were tired. It was the perfect place to eat after a travel day, and getting to the hotel when it was already dark. He knew your preferred seating choice, and of course he knew that you would want a table with a view of the mountains. He didn't care how much it cost him, or that he had to name drop himself (and Luke) to get the table with the view. All that mattered was that he could sit across from you, and watch you admire the view, while he admired you, which was really all that mattered to him.

And nothing felt more perfect than when the rest of the couples started either making their way back to the resort or to the next stop on their drinking trip down the Main Street in Downtown, you and Nico stayed. The two of you stayed, his hand softly brushing yours as you talked, him with his back to the window, taking that spot specifically so that you could see the scenery. And even as everyone left, leaving the two of you at the table alone, all he wanted to do was look at you. The way you smiled, the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you laughed, even the soft yawn you let out towards the end of the night made him smile, his cheeks hurting at the end of the night.

When the uber dropped you two off at the resort at the end of the night, Nico held the door open for you, helping you back into the room. When he moved from the front of your view and you saw what he had done, you couldn't stop the gasp from coming from your mouth. How he had done it while being at the restaurant and you being the last to leave the room, you truly didn't know. But you didn't need the logistics, because it all settled in for you.

It's you. It's always you. It always has been, and always will be. The most beautiful bouquets of your favorite flowers sat around the room, no flower petals on the floor because you both agreed that that was impractical. A bucket of champagne sat cooling right by the glass doors that outlooked the view, the most perfect view. It was then you realized that it was more than Dawson who picked this room, it was Nico, wanting to share the space with you. It was Nico who knew how much you'd love the view. It's Nico. It always has been, and it always will be.

When your eyes locked from across the room, your eyes finally looking up at his, which you knew had been on yours the whole time, you couldn't cross the room fast enough. And when your lips locked with his, everything else floated away. It was like nothing else mattered. As the snow fell in the background just behind you, you knew that it didn't matter where you were, and it didn't matter who came in the way. It was always you.

#nh13 #elle's writing #nico hischier #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x reader #New Jersey devils imagine #New Jersey devils x reader

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m30wk1ttycat · 4 months ago

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kiss me hard before you go

pairing: crank!newt x gn!reader

tw: kissing, use of y/n, mentions of death

note: title is a reference to lana del rey's iconic summertime sadness. this is kinda short, sorry.

you knew he didn't have much time. he knew it, too. but he wasn't scared - not of dying at least.

for a while, you were blisfully unaware of the fact that he had the flare. sure, he yelled at anyone who was too close to him, refused to let anyone see the injury he got when you were driving to the last city, snapped at everyone - yeah, now that you put it like that, it might've been pretty obvious, but you didn't pick up on it at the time. you found out when thomas accidentaly slipped up.

"tommy, what do you mean 'he doesn't have much time'??" you questioned.

he backed away slightly, hands shoved in his pockets. "i said we. we don't have much time," he insisted.

"thomas, i know what i heard, don't lie to me, for fuck's sake," you snapped. "you can't just say that and tell me that i misheard you!"

"i, um- well," he stuttered, taking a few steps back. he waved his arms around, gesturing. "i have to go.. um, talk to him? see ya!! and sorry, really. g'night!"

you watched him turn around, and leave the room, the door shutting behind his back. without much of a choice, you talked to newt that night. if thomas wasn't going to tell you, he definitely was, you hoped.

and he did.

"when were you going to tell me?" you asked, tears brimming in your eyes. he chewed on his lip in contemplation, unsure if he really wanted to asnwer - let's be real, he didn't.

he did, anyways.

"i didn't want to tell you," he confessed. "the plan was to tell you that i died during the mission. shot. burnt alive. something, anything."

"the same mission you're going on.. tomorrow?"

"yes," he confirmed. he fiddled with his thumbs and looked away, unable to look you in the eye. "i'm sorry."

you swallowed, harshly.

"i didn't want you to worry," he continued, "i'm sorry. so, so sorry. you weren't supposed to find out."

"do the others know?" you saw him stiffen. "do they?" you repeated. "newt?"

"i'm sorry" was all he said. slowly, the tears in your eyes slowly slipped down your cheeks. newt's calloused fingers quickly wiped them and he hugged you as an attempt to comfort you - it only made you cry harder.

"it's not fair," you sobbed.

he pressed a kiss to your temple and rocked you back and forth gently. "i know, love. i know."

"how are you so calm about this?"

"death doesn't scare me," he explained, sounding much too casual to be talking about this. "i'd much rather die than turn crazy. i don't want to lose my mind and try to kill my friends. i can't have that. that's the only thing that scares me about the flare - becoming someone who i'm not. i don't want that, even if the only solution is death."

"or a cure. we can always find you a cure, you know?" you said, trying to remain optimistic. there was no cure, though - you both knew that. but you just had to hope, right? maybe, just maybe, there was one.

"of course," he agreed, though unconvincingly. lifting your head up, you kissed him. one last kiss before he had to leave for the mission to save minho. one last kiss before he was gone. with your lips connected, you could both taste the salty tears - both yours and newt's.

he pulled away.

"i love you. remember that, okay? i love you, and i always will."

"i love you, too."

#the maze runner #tmr #maze runner #the maze runner newt #tmr newt #newt tmr #newt x reader #newt the maze runner #newt x y/n #newt

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purplemagics-blog · 3 months ago

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ART THE CLOWN X FEM READER!!

“Baby your not good for me, your not good for me, but baby I want you I want you!”

“Scary? My god you’re divine!!”

WARNING: reader gets kidnapping, attempted suicidal, weapons, please tell me if I missed anything!

Lmao I wrote this laying in bed, listening to diet Mountain Dew and watching 100 days in Minecraft

I put like 2 will wood references in this and there both really close together and if you find them both put it in the comments and what song they are them and you can choose what the theme for the next fanfic! (I literally ran out of ideas so this)

Wow… this is a lot…

You had just put the little pale girl down to sleep and now you and Art were cuddling up on the couch. Well how did you get here? Welllll it’s a long story!

A couple years back you were really close to ending it. You didn’t have family or friends, your band was breaking up and that was your only job you had for income! There you were standing on the edge of a bridge your old looking dress with a flower print on it blowing in the wind, your white cardigan long forgotten on the ground and your black shoes with black bows? They were also forgotten on the ground. As you about to jump you felt something grabbed the back of your legs and forced you backwards! Fell into someone’s arms… a clown? Maybe it was a fan? Your band did have a clown theme to it. But next thing you know the clown with a creepy smile forced a white cloth over your mouth and he most definitely put something on it as you passed out. You woke up in some sort of strange dark place. You where inside of a small cage (like a dog cage) and as you looked around you saw a little creepy pale girl trying to get a tv to work and as you looked up you saw the same clown guy sitting at a desk making a wimp with a knife tied to the end!

••••••••••••••••✰☼✟♡✟☼✰••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••☆☆☆••••••••••••••••••••

Ok so he did try and kill you but every time the little pale girl stoped him! She real liked you and in some short of way she was a like a child to you and after a while Art started to get closer to you like letting you out the cage, sharing “food” with you, and even letting you go outside ones and a while. And well about a year later you just assumed you both were dating at least that’s how you took it when the little pale girl was making drawings with crans with you, Art and her as a… family..? I mean Art gave you gifts, kissed you, you helped him kill people ones and a while, just you guys just acted like a crazy couple!

You took Art and the little pale girl into your house after a while (the police were going to fine you guys so y’all needed to move lmao)

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

So in the president, you had just put the little pale girl to bed and Art and you were cuddled up on the couch watching a scary movie. You were laying down and Art was laying on you with his face buried in your chest and his arms wrapped around your waist. These days he was the biggest simp for you. You both looked so cute together to be fair! Your past left behind and the future with Art is ahead! As you both are cuddling the movie has a jump scare and you finch and Art? He jumps silently laughs and mocks your face! WHAT A DICK! You powdered and he just didn’t care what an ass! As the end of the movie happens the title pops up “love me normally! Why apologize for being blue and cold?” And when the actors and stuff. Art stands up and picks you up bride style and carries you to bed. He plops you on the bed and when he walks over to the other side of the bed and he lays down and pulls you close. You both cuddle close and he kisses your forehead before you both drift off to sleep.

ANYWAYS HOPE YOU LIKED IT!!!

#SoundCloud #art the clown x you #art the clown #Terrifier #terrifer 3 #terrifer 2 #art the clown x y/n #art the clown x reader

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hazymoonlinh · 3 months ago

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6/Atticus

+ To even capture his heart, you really are something.

+ Plus if you are an outsider too, automatically have the respect of everyone on the island

+ He wouldn’t mind a talkative person, as long as you respect his boundaries.

+ This man might not into PDA, sadly, because he have a face to save

+ He would steal some glances at you when you’re working or too occupied with something so you won’t notice. He’s awkward but try his best to understand this new feeling.

+ Very busy but he will try his best to save time for you

+ If loving Getian is a slow burn, you need PATIENCE when loving this man.

+ Best you could get is hand holding in public

+ Everything intimate is in private.

+ Also need you to make the first move.

+ Doesn’t mean you can’t tease him tho.

+ Trace the uncovered area on his chest, he would be flustered.

+ Unexpected kiss will caught him off guard. He might not look like it but he enjoys them.

+ Tho I said respect boundaries but you are the only one that can get away with interrupting his “power saving mode”

+ Let him use your lap as a pillow, massaging his head and comb his hair with your fingers after a long day. A peaceful picture indeed.

+ He’s inexperienced. 22 and no bches( I mean I’m 20 and the same so who am I to judge 😔)

+ His love language is act of service. Gift giving, being a gentleman, taking care of you in every way, worry about your safety.

+ Straight forward but doesn’t mean he’s not romantic. Legit will say “You’re beautiful” to you every day with a straight face 🥹

+ Imagine getting lost in his ocean eyes. Oh to be love by someone so ethereal like him, to able to see your reflection in his eyes, to be able to stare as long as you want to.

+ He would have slender and veiny hands. Now imagine he tracing circle on your hand while you talk about your day to him.

+ Long walk on the shore with comfortable silent.

+ Loving him is like listening to a Lana Del Rey song, it’s like walking on clouds.

+ Rarely kiss but when he does he would have long, passionate kisses. He would gently lift your chin while kissing.

+ He would be the wife in the relationship if I can woo him =)))

+ It’s funny how his crown being snatched by the seagulls every day so both of you would have to find it in those nest every day lmao (it’s canon)

Bonus:

+ After the “storm”, if both of you stay in Vertin suitcase he would have more time for you.

+ He would no longer be 6, but rather your Atticus.

+ I think he would have nightmares of what happened even if he tried to show that he looks unaffected so please comfort him, this poor guy.

+ Would be the one who sleep after you when both of you share a bed. He would give you forehead kisses and a “I love you” whisper

+ He would melt if you call him by his real name rather than the title “6”

+ He’s so pure and innocent like his look I legit cannot think of anything dirty at all 🙉

(Bluepoch please give me 6 and Getian, I need them so badddddd)

I suggest read this while listening to Salvatore

#reverse 1999 x reader #reverse 1999 #6 reverse 1999 #6 x reader

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anthemofgvf · 8 months ago

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Groupie Love: Jake Kiszka x Reader Fanfiction

"you're in the bar, playing guitar, i'm trying not to let the crowd next to me. it's so hard sometimes with a star, when you have to share him with everybody." description: being jake’s groupie was heaven on earth, yet sinful in every desirable way. while the world reveled in his public, entrancing persona, you reveled in the boundaries of reality and fantasy intertwining in secrecy.

word count: 6.9k+

trope: groupie! reader x jake

taglist for future fics

warnings after cut…

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

warnings: good amount of plot, mentions of drinking, alcohol, smut (18+ minors dni), swearing, unprotected sex, hardcore dom! jake, choking, spitting, praise/begging/degrading kink, rough sex, spanking, fingering, oral (male and fem! receiving), bit of fluff, some aftercare

disclaimer: this does not follow the real events of the starcatcher tour for the sake of the plot. thanks!

a/n: would also like to mention that yes, this IS based off of the Lana Del Rey song with the same title. As soon as I heard it, I immediately thought of Jake and writing a fic based off of it. If you haven't listened to the song, now is the perfect time to do so! hope you all enjoy :) <3

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

There was something so addictive about secrecy. To share such vulnerability with someone where no one's eyes could witness, but only you and another alone. To know each other by touch alone if every sense was stripped away, yet hiding the true reason why you could pick them apart in a crowd from that feeling. And while you two were friends with one another publicly, behind closed doors, you were both fucking like animals. There was no better way to describe your relationship with Jake. You were just one of his secrets, hidden in a closet, and you had accepted that.

You had met him after one of Greta Van Fleet's shows when their careers were just about to skyrocket and thank God you were able to catch him then. You hadn't really listened to their music before or even heard of them, but local concerts under 30 bucks as a fun night out with friends was always on the table. If it weren't for their small fanbase and lack of fame, you were positive you wouldn't have become Jake's personal groupie.

After hooking up with him in the venue's bathroom, twice, Jake simply couldn't have enough of you. And you, you were entranced by him and his sexual drive. You both also enjoyed each other's company in the short period of time you knew one another, so, you and he exchanged numbers and kept in contact. Whenever he was in town, you'd be next to him, and when he was gone, you were with someone else. More often than not, you two were spending time with one another purely for sex, but it was rare for you to leave immediately after. After all, Jake cared about you regardless of the label of your relationship with him, and you were enjoyable to be around.

There was no discussion of monogamy, so it was mutually decided that seeing other people was no issue. Sure, no one compared to the guitarist, but there was always someone to run down your time in the day when boredom struck, and you were unable to be at Jake's beckoning call. Even though Jake would always call you his, it was words that withheld no meaning. Only in moments where you and Jake were together alone did they obtain meaning, but you knew never to take him seriously.

Jealousy is a bitch, though, and it possessed you. It rotted you to your unchaste core. You could easily pretend it didn't bother you that other girls have had Jake the way you have or have even looked at him in that manner. Of course, you'd be lying to yourself if you said there wasn't a single sliver of selfishness towards him. How many girls Jake had been with next to you was a mysterious number, but you didn't choose to spend your time thinking about how many girls he's said the same things to as you. But, rather, feel empowered that there were fans in their crowds at shows that desperately wanted your place. Fans that screamed his name, made signs and t-shirts for him, dreamed of being more than just a fan in the crowd. That was something you had over them. That's what made you special. That's what gave you your title of a so-called 'groupie'.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

They had closed their most recent tour with a show in Nashville, and of course you were in attendance. Jake had even asked if you'd be there, knowing well enough that there was no way in hell you'd be skipping out on it, because you knew where the night would take you. Besides, you hadn't seen him in months. You hadn't been with him in months. You had grown a sense of longing for him after a short period of time away from the guitarist.

Before Greta Van Fleet had a larger fanbase, you were able to sit in the seats and get escorted backstage to Jake so you could watch as a fan. But, due to suspicious speculation amongst fans, and you and Jake wanting to continue the secrecy and keep the reputation of "just friends," you were granted a backstage pass and allowed to come into the arena or venue they'd be performing at before fans would arrive. Every place was different, so the execution of reaching him was always tweaked, but no matter what, you and him both knew you'd see one another after the show. You preferred to hang in the sound booth rather than backstage, anyways.

Rarely did you come early to be in attendance for soundcheck. Sure, there would be absolutely nothing wrong with it, but you always enjoyed watching him look for you amongst the fans, and his eyes light up in the slightest that had your heart stopping only for a second at the sign of recognition, feeling as though your breath had been taken from you and forcing your body to freeze. It never got old feeling his eyes latch onto you.

And you never got tired of watching him perform on stage. Now, with the new introduction of 'Mirador,' you got to watch him nearly twice as long. And, God, you never knew he could sing that well. That certainly was a turn on for you. Now your mind was wandering off to the thought of him singing in your ear.

You rarely tore your eyes from him while he was on stage, and he knew that he was hypnotic. He liked knowing that there were people who only cared to watch him and come to Greta Van Fleet's shows to be in his presence. Thrusting into his guitar as he spoke to himself and the crowd, hairs sticking to his cheeks with the accumulated sweat and still breathlessly giving his performance his all. You kept your eyes locked on his stomach and watched as the sweat beads dripped down his tender skin, and his hair whipping around and throwing his head back as he skillfully played on his instrument, exposing his Adam's apple to the fans that kept their eyes glued on his every move while he struck the next few chords of the song. You'd always convince yourself while swinging to the music that he was performing more theatrically for you, but you'd never been proven right nor wrong yet. He was entrancing to watch, and sometimes you found it unfathomable that you were a person in his life. A person who knew things that most didn't, a person who saw things most people didn't.

Your adrenaline always arose as soon as the four boys left the stage, and the lights illuminated the venue. Hearing different conversations from a multitude of fans that surrounded you, shuffling of feet and complaints of exhaustion. But there you were, hanging out in the sound booth waiting for security to come to your aid to escort you to backstage.

You wore a silver halter top that accentuated your chest, with a pair of velvet-blue flared leggings and converse. Thankfully, your shoes weren't shown due to the coverage of your pants, and it truly did not matter what clothes were on your body. They would be thrown on some floor in less than an hour, and that's all you cared about.

Eventually two men from Greta Van Fleet's team made their way to you once the venue was near empty from fans and began leading you backstage to the green room. You always loved that feeling in the pit of your stomach; it excitingly tumbled and twisted with each step closer you were to him. The awkward silence never faltered while the security guards guided you to backstage, but that gave you enough time to collect yourself before seeing Jake.

Your eyes were first met with Sam cracking open a beer, chatting with his girlfriend and keeping to themselves. When they saw you, they smiled without a word, and allowed you to keep moving. While you and Jake became "friends" the more you two saw each other, you had been brought around the band from time to time. More likely than not, it was for some sort of party, large gathering, or simply catching the boys after the show - uncommonly anything intimate. They knew what your purpose was, but they never questioned you. Either they simply didn't care, or they didn't want to ask questions they did not want answers to.

Danny was nowhere to be found, most likely in his dressing room, but the twins were walking into the green room, laughter erupting from Josh as he cracked his large, infamous smile that put his perfect teeth on display. His presence always soothed you when eyes seemed to be peering down your neck from your presence. Both were still in their stage attire, which was usual when you'd come so soon after the show had ended.

Josh had noticed you first, closing his mouth to a smirk that raised with the right corner of lips and pierced his cheek to reveal his dimple. Once Jake laid his eyes upon you, they were already following down your body, finally greeting you with a crack of a smile that told you his mind was already somewhere else.

"Y/n! It's so good to see you again," Josh greeted you with a tight hug, "nice seeing your face after so long." He patted your back and pulled away with a grin still plastered on his face.

"It has been long enough," you huffed a laugh. "Tour was good?" You flicked your eyes to Jake.

He gave you a slow, steady nod. "Was great. I'm sure you'd love to hear all about it, huh?"

"I wouldn't want anything else." You huffed a laugh, sticking your tongue in your cheek at his light sarcasm.

"I expect you'll be sticking around to celebrate the end of Starcatcher with us?" Josh said as he began to walk away. You followed his movements with your eyes as he walked over to a small fridge, turning to Jake who gave you a blank stare. Josh wasn't hinting at your intentions with Jake, but rather what would occur after-the-fact. He shrugged at you suggestively, but you couldn't depict what his choice was.

You chose to be safe. "We'll see, Josh," you directed your attention to him for a moment, "if I don't, I'll be sure to say goodbye to you before I head home."

He sauntered over to you with a beer in hand and patted your back with a soft smile. "Always a pleasure, y/n."

Leaving you and his twin alone, Jake ran his hand to your side and found the small of your back, pressing light enough to signal movement forward and follow him to his dressing room. You dared to look at him, to examine the light sheen of sweat that resided on his forehead that he forgot to wipe away once he exited the stage. And you knew he could feel your eyes lingering upon him, but he liked to be looked at. He liked the attention.

His dressing room door was already open, welcoming your entrance and waiting for your arrival. You eagerly stepped into the neatly decorated room and scanned the area for familiar artifacts of his scattered about: sunglasses, bracelets, necklaces, and his attire to be thrown on after his stage wear was stripped from his body.

He turned his back to you quickly and closed the door, locking it swiftly behind him. And once he turned around, he was wearing a softly cracked smile. It was always so intimidatingly perfect, how his eyes rested into a look that only told you that he was going to devour you.

"Barely said a word to me since I've arrived," you said innocently with your hands behind your back, "what's with the shyness, Jake?" You began to slip off your shoes as his eyes faltered from your own to do the same.

He took slow steps towards you to increase the intensity of your heartbeat in anticipation. He knew you craved the taste of his lips, the feeling of his hands on your figure. He always remembered what made your heart bang against your chest and your face flush into a pink hue.

His index finger cradled your jaw as he focused your eyes on him intently. "Was it so wrong of me to want a more private 'welcome home' from you?" His voice was coarse with the words slipping off his tongue smoothly like butter. Close to a whisper - the tone of intimacy.

You flicked your eyes to his coy smirk, then back to his dark brown eyes that peered at you so attentively. He was always so patient in these moments for an answer back.

"All this is, is private. Doesn't mean I don't enjoy the gesture, though." You wrapped your arms around his neck after motioning your pointer finger back and forth between the two of you, and in return, he pulled you into his chest and squeezed you against his body tightly.

And there he was, breathing softly down the side of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent, and feeling the figure and warmth of your body in an embrace. You buried your face into the crook of his neck that you made room for with your arm to feel the skin that rested there to remember how it feels to be so close to Jake once again.

"You're a good singer, Jake," you said lowly into his ear, "better than I had expected."

You felt him chuckle against you, but his laughter came out in small breaths. He was amused by your playful banter and humbling words that he knew were harmless.

He unwrapped himself from you but kept the close proximity between the both of you. His tongue darted out and ran across the middle of his bottom lip, cracking a coy grin as he looked down at you with half-hooded eyes. He was effortlessly seductive.

"You're lucky I like you, y/n." His hand raised to the side of your face as he slowly began to caress it, watching the motions of his fingers as they began from your temple and journeyed to your jaw. "Because if I hadn't known better, I'd think you were disrespecting me." He gave you a playful, lazy glare.

You gave him a small smile, allowing your fingers to focus on toying with the silver jewelry that hung dangerously low on his exposed skin.

"Well, you and I both know that you love to play that game." You said softly to yourself. Loud enough for him to hear, but quiet enough to showcase your lack of desire for a response.

You took the opportunity to run your hands onto his chest, letting them reach to the waistband of his trousers, and looking to him innocently with a smile. And he smiled back at you softly, waiting patiently for you to be finished reveling in his presence and this moment.

You placed your hands onto his neck, thumbing at the skin and looking at him for direction, for initiation. So, he cupped your jaw and placed a gentle, longing kiss onto your lips. You practically melted into his mouth and encouraged his tongue to begin roaming around the inside of your mouth as you began to dance your own in his. The kiss grew deeper quickly, and you both remembered the addictive taste of each other. The swift routine of throwing each other clothes began, where you're tugging down Jake's pants to leave him in his boxers, and he's tossing off his cropped, black jacket to land onto the ground.

Your hands traveled into his damp hair and tugged him deeper into your lips as his fingers played at the waistband of your leggings. The muscles at your stomach began to tense up at the sensation of the pads of his fingers toying at the idea of diving down into your underwear and satisfying you.

His mouth pulled from yours for a moment to throw off your top, which you assisted him in doing, and allowed it to fall wherever it landed. As soon as he got the sight of your bare breasts, he encapsulated his mouth onto yours, and massaged one in his hand, while the other hand held its place at your waist.

You snaked your hands in between your glued bodies and cupped his hard cock with a light squeeze, eliciting a deep, rumbling groan from his throat and into your mouth.

"God, how I've missed you." He said into your mouth, tugging at your bottom lip. His lips began to travel to your neck, pressing rough, sloppy kisses onto the skin. You contemplated telling him how much you missed him, but you knew that he knew you did - you were like putty under his touch.

Your head titled back to allow Jake more access to your neck. One of his hands ditched your body and tugged at your hair to gain dominance, keeping your neck bent back as far as possible so he could taste your skin. His other hand traveled to the small of your back to keep you on your feet, and you swore you would've fallen to your knees if it weren't for Jake holding you up. With your eyes shut, you tuned into the feeling of his wet tongue trailing its way up your neck and to your jaw, then suckling down to your collarbone. His mouth always felt like a beautiful curse against your skin, while compelling, still so unbelievably relieving.

Your hands stuck onto his hair, tugging and pulling as his lips trapped your right nipple in his mouth. His tongue swirled circles around it, with his index and thumb massaging the other with the movements. Soft moans escaped your mouth, but you were sure to monitor any sound out of you.

His eyes peered up at you as he removed his mouth from your body and grabbed your face with his hands clasped at your jaw.

"Pants off, now." He instructed lowly, and while you slipped off your underwear with your velvet flares, he was throwing off his boxers and revealing his throbbing cock. You could hardly focus on anything other than him inside of you at this moment, with your head dizzy at the thought of his length filling you up to the hilt.

He never got sick of the sight of you naked, running his hands down your waist and to your hips while a deep sigh escaped his mouth. You watched his eyes focus in on your clit, with his thumb dancing around the area and causing your knees to grow weaker and weaker. Your hips bucked forward, and your motion only caused a light snicker to come from his mouth.

"Get on your fucking knees." He demanded as he pushed you down by your shoulder, although you were quick to follow his instructions and obey.

His length rested onto your left check, and his hand reached down to lift your chin to look up to him. He loved how submissive you looked before him. The way your eyes lit up to the sight of him bare in front of you, along with his devilish grin that captivated you.

He held your eyes with his own. "Good to know you're still such a good girl for me." That sentence had sent a shiver down your spine, with how intimidatingly dominant Jake was. There was something about his small, cracked smile, and the light squint in his eyes that always had you feeling shy and overexposed. Yet, you were always so comfortable being vulnerable around him.

He tapped at your jaw, which signaled for your mouth to open, and you allowed his thumb to travel onto your tongue, sliding the finger out and dragging your bottom lip down with the motion. You slid your hands over his thighs, kissing the head of his cock and slicing your tongue onto it. He groaned at the sensation and landed his hand on the back of your head in preparation.

And you grabbed his length, wrapping your lips around it and beginning to bob your head up and down at a slow pace. You took all of him for a moment to elicit a harsh groan - a response you craved hearing from Jake and pulled off his cock to purse your lips and spit onto his tip with your hand aiding you in coating him.

You immediately resumed bobbing your head up and down, while your hand at the base of him began working slowly with a twist of your wrist. He deeply sighed, looking down at you to see his cock disappear into your mouth. You were irresistible to him with the way you took him into your mouth so effortlessly.

"Fuck, just like that, y/n." He winced lightly as your tongue swirled around his tip. His mouth was slightly hung open as he admired the view of you below him. Hearing your name had never sounded better coming from someone's mouth.

The unoccupied hand of his landed at the side of your face with his thumb caressing at your cheek. He was being gentler with you than usual, which could only mean he intended to be rougher with you later on. You didn't mind the lack of degrading, though. It was good to soothe into things after being away from him for so long.

His breathing was deep, and the muscles at his stomach were tensed up as you quickened the pace of your mouth and hand. Your other hand massaged his balls lightly, which evoked a deep sigh from him. Hushed slurs drew from his lips as you worked your way up and down him, spit dribbling down your chin. The back of your throat fought against taking his whole length, but as long as he felt good, you could care less about your own pleasure. You loved to feel as though you belonged to him and were the only one making him feel this good.

His head was thrown back, while the hand that tousled with your hair on the back of your head had a harsher grip. It was as if he was innocently guiding you, but really, it was to steady himself as he cautiously bucked his hips into your movements. Jake had his bottom lip tucked behind his teeth, fighting against his own release so quickly.

He grabbed your hair and held it back for you, tugging you off of his cock and raising you up to your knees by the pad of his index finger resting under your chin.

"Think you deserve something in return, huh?" He said as his hands relaxed from their places and found your waist. The rhetorical question had you pressing your thighs tightly together with a whine trapped behind your closed mouth.

He was slow with his hands, letting them fall down to your hips, then scooping you off of the ground whilst you wrapped your legs around his waist. He carried you over to the long table that sat before a mirror, setting you down and immediately forcing your legs open for him. He was quick to step in between your legs and place a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss on your lips as his fingers traveled down your stomach and to your heat.

His right hand rested at the inner of your thigh, his thumb at your pubic bone and mere inches from your clit. He rested his forehead upon yours and listened intently to your unsteady, choked breaths, while he traced his index fingers and middle up and down your pussy agonizingly slow. Your back arched into him with a whine, closing your thighs together cautiously in hopes his fingers would caress you. But instead, he forced your thighs back open, and removed his forehead from yours with enough space to just barely see the entirety of your face.

"Don't. Fucking. Move. Be a good girl for me, yeah?" He glared at you, practically spitting in your face at your small movements in a silent plea to have him touch you. But you nodded vigorously. "If you want me to touch you, you're going to have to beg for it. Don't act like you have forgotten how this works."

The way he was looking at you was sending butterflies into the pit of your stomach, and it was nearly overwhelming to you how lust-filled his eyes were.

You threw your head back, sliding your right hand onto his bicep and sighing heavily with shut eyes. "Jake," you whined out, "please."

"Please what, y/n?" He urged you further. He loved playing this game.

You brought your head back up and looked at him in mere agony, desperately saying, "please touch me."

A devilish smirk twisted onto his lips as he flicked his eyes down to your pussy, leaning down and pursing his lips to allow spit to dribble from his mouth and onto your folds. As soon as the spit hit your pussy, he was gathering it onto middle and ring finger and locking his eyes onto yours. He captivated your attention just to mimic the way your mouth fell open as his fingers eased themselves into your entrance. He even repeated your deep exhales as his fingers curled inside of you and began to pump in and out of your entrance. You couldn't contain your moans and allowed them to fall out of your mouth while Jake admired your breathless state.

His calloused fingers added an extra layer of sensation to what you were feeling. He began kissing at your neck, humming onto the skin and trailing his mouth to your ear.

"Feel good, y/n?" He asked in a pitiful, mocking tone. He knew the answer, yet he wanted to hear you say it. Just another thing he did to control you and what you said.

"Yes, yes Jake." You moaned. "Please, don't stop."

He tugged at your earlobe and said, "so we do remember our manners, hm?" in a teasing tone.

Your hand reached for the back of his head as he continued to suck at your neck and travel down to your jugular. Your other hand was gripped tightly against the edge of the table to keep yourself upright while Jake meticulously drew every sound possible from you by his touch. His tongue flattened against the skin and slid its way up to your jaw. You never realized how deeply you missed Jake until you were finally with him.

You had your eyes shut with furrowed brows as you allowed your head to hang back. Every movement Jake made with his fingers, his mouth, his hand that found its way to your breast and massaged it - you were in euphoria. Only did he make you feel this good, and you made it known with your lack of words and preferred usage of pleasured sounds.

Then your eyes were shooting open and your fingers gripping harder at Jake's hair as you felt his tongue circle at your clit. You looked down at the sight, seeing him kneeled down before you as he devoured at your pussy. He hummed in satisfaction of the taste of you - sweet like honey, and your mouth hung open in an "O" shape, unable to utter a sound. Finally, an exaggerated groan rolled off of your tongue, and your head was able to be thrown back with your head fuzzy in ecstasy.

Your hand that rested at the back of his head landed back onto the table, clenching and unclenching, which Jake was quick to notice. His hand immediately found yours and folded his fingers into your own, giving you something to squeeze onto you. The small note of intimacy made you crack a small smile, but quickly allowing it to fade away as Jake grasped harshly onto your hip to keep you in place and reminding you where your focus should be.

He lapped at your folds as he kept a steady pace in and out of your pussy while your thighs squeezed tightly around his head. He switched between sucking at your clit and allowing his tongue to do all the work. You were grinding your hips to the motions of his tongue, and while normally you were ridiculed by him with a slap at your thigh, he allowed it after being away from one another so long.

You were clenching around his fingers, which elicited a pleased hum from him. He could tell you were close to your release, and that's exactly where he wanted you to be before stripping it away from you so suddenly. The tightened knot in the pit of your stomach completely dissolving, not unraveling, always had you whining in annoyance.

He flattened his tongue once more and dragged it up your pussy, then pushed himself up by slapping his hands on the tops of your thighs and levering himself that way.

You encapsulated your mouth onto his by bringing him with your hands harshly slapping against his face. He groaned into your lips with satisfaction, while you wrapped your hand around his length and began stroking it. At some points in moments like these, you felt like you just barely had some sort of dominance over Jake, and he was submitting to the pleasure you were granting him. He found it harder to kiss you back, resting his forehead against your own with eyes squeezed shut. As if anything you had asked him to do, he would without hesitation. And his face even showed how resistless he had become under your touch, contorting and softening with his eyebrows pulled in and mouth parted open.

You kept your eyes open to see the way his face shifted emotions, watching him grow restless with your position of being in charge. He wrapped his hand around your own and stopped your motions, looking down at his cock and focusing on lining himself up with your entrance. You quickly propped one of your legs up onto the table to allow easier access for him and impatiently waited. As spit dribbled down from his pursed lips and onto his cock, with a few more strokes, he was easing himself into you and resting his forehead onto your shoulder.

"Fuck, y/n," he drew out in a long breath as he was fully rested inside of you. He was slow pulling himself out, but quick to slam into you.

He raised his head off of your shoulder and met your eyes, seeing yours with the lids of them resting halfway, mouth opened in an 'O' shape with eyebrows softened. You made it known to him that you were all his - and always will be, but in this moment, you were whatever you needed him to be. Through your lust-filled brain you imprinted the memory of how perfect Jake feels inside of you, how he knows exactly where his fingers need to dance onto your skin, or where his hands should rest. He was wickedly talented at the art of pleasure, and he knew what made your body tick. He was in tune with your body, which he oh-so adored, and wasn't going to go anywhere until he felt satisfied enough.

You had one hand sprawled behind your back onto the table and the other on Jake's shoulder, throwing your head back as he slammed into you and rattled the items that lay astray on the tabletop. If anything were to fall, neither of you paid mind to it. What mattered was the sensations that ran throughout your entire being, your heartbeat increasing with every second, and your body accumulating a sweat that began at your hairline.

His breaths were heavy, daring to look at you while his pace increased. The corner of his lips curled into a malicious smirk, forcing your lips onto his by pushing your head towards him after landing the back of his hand in your damp hair. His other hand was placed beside your thigh to keep him up, but every once and a while, it would travel to the outer of your thigh and squeeze tightly.

Your kiss shared with him was a sloppy mess, with both of you breathing into each other's mouth and unable to contain your moans from sputtering out from your lips. His tongue danced alongst your own, toying with it before resting his back in his mouth and pulling from your lips to kiss your cheek. He reached your ear with his lips, tugging at your earlobe, and allowing you to hear his restless, guttural groans that tore at your core with pleasure.

"You're all mine, you know that?" He groaned to you. "Your pussy is for my pleasure only - no one else's. You understand?" He continued his fast-paced thrusts while borderline whispering these words to you.

You swallowed harshly, breathing out a small, "yes," as you were unable to utter anything else. It was already a battle enough to keep yourself quiet to minimize the noise anyone in the green room could hear, but yet, they all knew why you were with Jake. And frankly, Jake didn't care about the noise. In fact, he encouraged your cries of ecstasy. He demanded it from you.

He wrapped his hand around your neck tightly, forcing you to look at him as he withheld your breath.

"Say you understand, y/n. Say that you understand that no one else can have you but I." He breathed, lessening his tight grip around your neck to allow you to speak for him.

"I understand, Jake," you said as your eyes rolled back from the way Jake was thrusting into you, "I'm all yours."

You didn't have to refocus your eyes on him to know he was smirking - you could just hear his lips curl. Now he was quickly pulling himself out of you, and in a swift motion, lifting you off from the table and barely giving you time to land on your feet before turning you around and bending you over. You were face to face with yourself, seeing how your makeup had run, and your lips were swollen and darker tinted than normal.

But then you saw him, and how he looked from behind you. His eyes landed on your ass, and in a near second, you saw his hand raise and swat against the skin. You jumped with a light whimper trapping itself behind your lips as you bit down on your bottom lip. His eyes met yours, and there he was, giving you the smallest hint of a smile, and forcefully pushing himself all the way inside of you.

One of his hands rested at your hip with a harsh grip, and the other was at your shoulder while he watched the movement of your ass each time it hit against his stomach. He was entranced by the way your body moved, how good it felt to be inside of you, how perfect you looked fully exposed to him.

He whispered something near incoherent, but you were able to pick it up.

"Good, good fucking girl. That's it, baby." He said as he kept his eyes locked on your rear. You watched his lips drop open, his hair moving with his motions and his eyebrows softening and furrowing with each sensation that drove through his body. He grabbed at your ass once more, giving you another swat to make sure he would leave his mark on you as if the bruises caused by his mouth weren't already stained onto your body.

You moaned his name, begging him not to stop as he was hitting the spot you craved to be caressed the most. You dared to reach your fingers down to your clit to reach your orgasm, but as your hand began to make its way there, Jake immediately caught on, and grabbed ahold of your hair and tugged you far back enough to where your back arched away from his chest.

"Greedy now, are we?" His hand from your hair released itself to forcefully grasp your throat with his pointer finger and thumb harshly pressed at your jaw to look towards him. You didn't know what to respond with, other than to rest your hands onto the edge of the table and allowing your knuckles to turn white.

You dared to hold eye contact with him, and he squeezed your cheeks with the intent of forcing your mouth open and spitting onto your tongue. You swallowed the substance without thought, looking at him as you raised one hand to hold onto the side of his face. And the grip he had onto your face wasn't harsh enough, because you felt your head turn forward and lean back with a loud moan as your orgasm grew closer, and the pads of his fingers rubbed vigorous circles onto your clit.

"Greedy little whore." He whispered into your ear, looking at you through the mirror. He watched the way your breasts bounced, how your body twitched, how you were nearly unresponsive with the amount of pleasure you were receiving. You truly were all his.

"Jake, please," you begged quietly. There were more words you wanted to say, but they had fizzled and left your mind, and you could only focus on the way Jake was pumping in and out of you at a quickened pace.

Strands of his hair began to stick to his cheeks, and his silver necklaces that he had on left a cold sting onto your back as they would barely graze the skin. Every single sense in your body had become heightened and intensified, along with your entire body tensing up that had your entire body running hot. All you could do was chase your release, to tune into the intoxicating sensation of Jake delivering as much pleasure to you as possible.

"God, I'm gonna cum." He warned as his thrusts became inconsistent, yet perfectly paced to reach his high. "Gonna cum with me?"

There was only one answer to that question, and he knew that. But hearing you say it helped send him over the edge. It helped him feel more in control of your orgasm. Hell, you were surprised your release hadn't overtaken you yet.

"Yes, Jake, just please, don't stop." You moaned.

And as you felt the tight knot unravel in your stomach, you began to fall forward with your legs trembling, and Jake coming to your aid by bracing his arm across your chest as he fucked you through your orgasm.

“That’s it darling,” he soothed, “there you go.”

His head fell forward as he finished inside of you, draining himself fully and leaving himself with a heaving chest. His arm fell from your chest and landed his hand on top of yours on the edge of the table, with the other hand teasing at your sensitive clit once more just to feel you twitch a final time around him.

After you nearly grabbed his wrist to move it away from the overstimulation, he landed his hand onto your waist, and stayed inside of you for a moment. His eyes found yours in the mirror, and he pressed a soft, long kiss onto your cheek.

"You okay?" He said to you.

"Yes, yes I'm okay," you giggled, "more than okay."

He chuckled at your statement. "Just making sure." He said as he looked at you.

His lips traveled onto your neck with soft, relaxed kisses, reaching to the end of your shoulder and stopping there as he pulled himself from you. You tried to turn around to face him, but as he saw your legs nearly give out, he came to wrap his hands around your waist, and keep you on your feet. If it weren't for the warm liquid dripping down onto the insides of your thighs, you would have forgotten that Jake had finished inside of you.

After seeing that animalistic side of him, you had nearly forgotten how caring he was, and how important it was to him to tend to you after practically using your body. And while one hand stayed at the small at your back, the other raised to your cheek, and his thumb softly swiped against it in a back-and-forth motion.

You two allowed each other to catch your breaths, keeping your eyes locked onto his and smiling at him softly in your hazed state.

"Do you want to stay after for a bit before you head off?" He said to you, finally having his breathing under control.

"Don't want me to stay over for the night, or are you already sick of me?" You said to him with a knowing grin.

He chuckled at your response and placed a soft kiss onto your lips. "Go on and get dressed and we'll head back to mine when you're ready to, alright?"

You nodded at him and began to clean yourself up, which he helped with, then aiding him, and getting dressed to make yourself presentable to walk out of the dressing room and accept the stares from the rest of the band and any of their team members who witnessed the sounds that erupted from Jake's dressing room.

But they all knew why you were there. After all, you were Jake's personal groupie. And you enjoyed the lifestyle. You enjoyed Jake, and he enjoyed you.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

taglist:

@hollyco @songbirds-sweet @ageofhearingloss @sacredjake @mountain-in-springtime @ignite-my-fire @gvfsstardust @jakesguitarsolo @gold-mines-melting @digitalcalamity @demolitionndann @lipstickitty @bluee07 @lexii-nv-c @joopsworld @gvfgal @gvfpal @hellowgoodbye @writingcold @stardustcatcher @absolutely--mental @hippievanfleet @gretasfallingsky @dont-go-home-without-me @threadthatssacred @indigofallingsky @audgeppp @sinarainbows @brujamagik @bowievanfleet @laneygvf @idontlikelizards @josh-iamyour-mama @starshine-wagner @lyndz2names @jaketswine @jjwasneverhere @mulberrimouse @starcatcher-jake @lallisonl @jordie-gvf @peaceloveunitygvf

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arkivsantorina · 2 years ago

Text

But if you hold me without hurting me (r. stark)

But if you hold me without hurting me r. stark imagine

Pt. 5 of Oh, all I used to do was pray, Right when I felt the moment stop, And I might be ok, but I'm not fine at all, And the life I gave away

Pairings - Robb Stark x female!Reader

Summary - You have a long-awaited conversation with Robb. It changes things between the two of you.

Word Count - 1,133 words

Warnings - Angst, Possibly unbearable cheesiness

A/N - I broke the Taylor Swift title streak. In my defense, I have been a LDR stan since middle school and Cinnamon Girl makes me sob every time I listen to it.

Songs I listened to while writing: Like Real People Do (Hozier), Cinnamon Girl, Carmen (Lana Del Rey), Me and My Husband (Mitski)

Robb feels his heart start to beat erratically as he watches you and Jon. It is obvious that you care deeply about Jon as he does you. Robb knows that he has walked in on something private, feeling jealous but also wishing that he could be the one to comfort you as such. Your moment with Jon is interrupted when Robb clears his throat in order to make you aware of his entrance into your chambers. The sound startles you and causes you to turn in Robb’s direction. Jon also turns to look at Robb, his expression wary that Robb would misinterpret the scene.

Robb begins to speak slowly but his voice cracks ever so slightly, his heart contracting in his chest due to an onslaught of emotions. “Am I interrupting anything?”

You quickly regain your composure. “No, my lord husband, you are not. I lost a letter earlier today. Jon has calmed me down and agreed to help look for it.” You dismiss Jon from your chambers, assuring him that you will be okay.

Jon locks eyes with Robb as he leaves. Tensions eased between him and Robb once he saw Robb trying to fix everything. However, Jon still continues to be an advocate for you. His brother looks back at him, eyes filled with questions he knows Jon cannot answer. Robb just needs to know that you are going to be okay, regardless of what happened.

Your husband takes a step closer to you. He looks into your eyes, searching for the pain that he knows must be there. You are a strong woman but no one should be subjected to the kind of abuse that the letter contained. As he moves closer, you notice the letter crumpled in Robb’s fist. “Ah. It seems as I I do not need to search for the letter.” You say with a sad smile, “I take it that you have seen what my father thinks of me?”

Looking down at the letter once again, Robb scowls. The fury that had been burning inside of him returns to the surface. His head shakes in disgust and he quickly closes his fist tighter around the letter, as if the action would make the item disappear from existence. Robb nods once in acknowledgment of her question. “I did. It is nothing less than disgraceful.” He draws his eyes up to meet yours. Robb’s voice shakes with thinly veiled anger. “Your father is a cruel, cruel man. To say such things to you, his own daughter…well, it is unforgivable.” He says the last word through gritted teeth.

You motion for Robb to sit next to you. In your almost year of marriage, this is the first time that you have actually asked him to be near you. It seems as if he has realized this fact as well if his hesitancy is anything to go off of. Robb’s nervous movements are in stark contrast to your controlled stillness. A couple moments pass between you two before you begin to talk. Long-awaited and much-needed words begin this conversation. “It’s cruel but what he says is true. I have failed in my duty as a wife. I should have given you an heir by now.”

Completely stunned is how the maesters would describe Robb if they were here to record this meeting. You are still calling him your husband, even after everything he has done, but you are voicing something that Robb would never want to believe. Yes, it is a wife’s and therefore your duty to give him an heir, but he would never, never force you to conceive if you were not yet ready. He turns to face the fireplace, staring into the flickering flames as he realizes how truly damaged you have been from a childhood in the Frey household and the months as his wife. Both of you have tried to do everything that has been expected of you, yet it is you who has suffered the most and continues to endure. Robb is angry at the world. Angry at the cruel words of your father. Angry at himself for the way he has treated you. Sighing deeply, he speaks after gathering his emotions. “Do not let them make you believe that this is your fault. It takes two to make a child. I am just as much to blame for the situation we find ourselves in…”

Robb’s words trail off when he feels you place your head on his shoulder. It seems to be a night of firsts. Much like you never asked him to be near you, you have never initiated any sort of physical comfort. You both enjoy the feeling until you bring Robb back to reality with your voice breaking the silence. “I don’t blame you for anything. I want you to know that. You were forced to marry me, forced to make me your queen, while you still loved Talisa. Why would you want to leave her side for a Frey, especially when Talisa was carrying your child? I ruined your life.”

Feeling a tear soak into the shoulder of his tunic, Robb tilts your head up so he can see you clearly. “You didn’t ruin my life. I made a deal with your father. I knew what I was agreeing to when I crossed the bridge.” He reaches his thumb to brush the tears off your face. “This is not your burden to bear. It is something we must share. Something we must work through so that we can grow together. Something I should have worked harder on at the beginning of our marriage.” Your husband sighs deeply and shakes his head, trying to accept how much he has just spoken. Robb comes to the startling realization that he has never voiced this sentiment to you before, much less even admitted it to himself.

“Thank you. I need to hear those words said to me.” You say and place a gentle kiss on Robb’s cheek. A blush spreads across your face as you do so.

He freezes when he feels your lips brush against his skin. A matching pink tint blotches his cheeks like yours did. This is the first time you have shown affection for him and it feels…good. Robb smiles and leans over to place a kiss on your forehead, wanting to continue this newfound physical affection that you have started. “I’m here for you. I know I haven’t been in the past, but from this moment forward, I will always be here for you my queen.” The increased presence of his Northern accent betrays the emotions that are overwhelming him. Staring into your eyes, his gaze reveals nothing but honesty and sincerity in his gaze. Robb meant every word he said to you tonight.

A/N - Once again, thank you so much for reading. My ask box is always open for requests, comments, or if just want to gush about our lovely Stark boys.

#robb stark x reader #robb stark x you #robb stark fanfic #robb stark imagine #robb stark

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tojisun · 1 year ago

Text

real enough to touch

atwow!jake sully x fem avatar reader

!! angst; there are references to a1; hinted age gap between jake and reader; use of "kid" as platonic pet name // 2.1k words

: based of this prompt; hope you guys would luv it <33; title from blue banisters - lana

you watch as they gather their things, packing up whatever else they could hoist onto their ikrans without the beasts buckling underneath all the weight that they are not used to carrying. the sully’s are silent for a change, their lips pinched close, their eyes refusing to meet each other in an act of full avoidance, hoping that the silence would blanket their breaking hearts.

your hands twitch, muscle memory kicking in when jake stalked away and left the rest of his family for a short moment. neytiri finds your eyes, tipping her head to wherever jake headed and you send her a short nod before turning around to follow the trail that your friend left.

you find him standing before the opening of high camp, alone, his eyes looking far away and his mind lost in thought. not even your loud footfalls could coax him out so you wait, taking your space beside him, basking in the silence as you count down the minutes you have left with him.

“i’m sorry,” he says after a while, his voice thick and only then do you realize that he slipped into english – a pretence of privacy.

“you shouldn’t be,” you tell him, tipping your head up and smiling when you meet his already-waiting eyes. “i get it the most, you know?”

“i know,” he breathes. “i’d love nothin’ more than for you t’come… but the people, they need you more.”

“‘course. they’re still gon’ need the remaining warrior of the jarhead clan, now that y’r leavin’,” you tease, hoping to ease the tension.

he chuckles, shaking his head at your words. your heart stutters at the sound, the realization that this is the last you’ll ever hear from and see of jake has you biting the inside of your cheeks, willing yourself to not cry yet. not when he needs you – strong heart.

he licks his lips, parting them, hesitating, until he finally mutters, “thanks for always being with me: back in hell’s gate ‘till now.”

you roll your eyes at him this time, a huff of short laugh escaping your lips. “i promised, didn’t i?”

(“on me?” he asked, tall and blue and free. he stood beside neytiri, their eyes pleading, waiting, but hardened – if you were going to stand against them, then so be it.

but how could you ever? you would follow him to hell if he asked.

“always, corporal,” you replied, laughing as you shook your head, watching as your answer was rewarded with twin and fanged smiles.

yeah, you thought, i have no regrets.)

but that might have been the wrong thing to say; you watch as jake’s face falls, his body drooping along, making him look older than he is. he reaches out for you, patting your head the way you see him do with his kids – familial. platonic.

your heart bursts at seeing what you are to him. it is love, sure it is not in the way you want, but it is still love. jake’s love.

you shuffle to his side, patting him on the back. “i’m fine, jake.”

“i know y’are,” he says, his hand still resting on your head. “but i want you to live for y’rself, kid. y’ve always been here f’r me and now i want you to be here for y’rself.”

“and what exactly does living for myself mean?” your tone is jovial, light.

“…well, i see the way you are with my kids and i know you’ll be a great mother.”

his words strike you, your mind racing as you stare up at him with wide eyes. no.

“no,” you repeat out loud, chuckles spilling from your lips. “you- no. jake. i, uh, i don’t think i can.”

his brows crease, worry lining his face. “you can’t? why?”

“it’s not like i’ll like anyone else to the point of marriage and mating.” you shrug, hiding your wince with a cough, your tail coiling around your leg as you duck your head away, breaking eye contact.

he holds your arm, quiet, urging you to look at him again. you refuse, hoping he would not insist, not when it’s him.

“anyone else?” jake’s voice pierces through your silence and your lungs burn at hearing him repeat your slip up.

you clench your jaw, biting back anything that can clue him in because jake’s smart. no amount of augustine’s curt dismissal could say otherwise. hell, even spellman had begrudgingly admitted that there’s something good going on in jake’s head. ‘something’ that could easily bite your ass right now.

“oh,” he says.

fuck.

“kid-”

you shrug out of his hold, jake easily letting go of your arm, and you shuffle away, your back turned to him. you rub the back of your neck, chuckling, not minding the fact that you and him could hear just how fake it sounds.

“it’s nothing, jake. don’t. don’t worry about it.” you do not meet his eyes, ashamed of having your feelings unearthed, laid down at his feet for him to see.

he is quiet, unmoving, but you can feel his stare pinning you, tracking the way you shuffle or how you fiddle with your fingers to keep your eyes busy.

you wonder what he thinks, but fear seizes your heart, squeezing, filling you with pinpricks. you are afraid. afraid that if he does give word to what you have always avoided – his rejection, his apologies, his pity – then there’s no turning back. no bridge to salvage. and you would be left with nothing of jake, not even his friendship.

then, amidst your silence, jake finally speaks.

“since when?” he asks. his curiosity is gentle, kind, and you turn to look at him, seeing the beginnings of apologies shadowing his weary eyes.

another dismissal sits on your tongue, ready for you to just move past this because what good would it do to talk about things that could never be?

but-

but how long have you been unkind to yourself? how long have you carried this love? before the war and even now at its return, was it not him who you fought for? was it not jake who gave you the strength to just be?

you feel him step close to you, close but not enough – it would never be enough. you study the contours of his face, every line and every freckle. eywa, he is so beautiful, your heart burns.

“that day before you were gon’ go scouting with augustine and spellman.” the words spill from your lips. “just after you caused so many issues by just running away once your first link was established.”

you laugh, heart easing up when you see jake’s lips tug up in a soft smile at the memory.

“i just finished unlinking from my own when you wheeled towards my open pod, grinning ear to ear, asking how it was. i told you it felt weird, in a good way, and you did this laugh. it was- it came from deep in your belly.” you lick your lips, ignoring the choked up feeling lodged in your throat.

“you were always so detached from everyone, keeping to yourself even on the days we were allowed to let loose and have fun, but it all changed that day. you looked so much happier, lighter. calmer, even. jake, you were – are – so beautiful. and i, well, you know.”

jake’s eyes gloss over like he can see the memory play out before his eyes. “that long?” his voice is vulnerable.

“yeah.”

you take a moment, a quiet breath, then, “it’s always been you, jake.”

tears trickle from the corners of your eyes, spilling onto flushed cheeks. your heart caves as the last of your secrets are laid bare for him to see. the pieces fall from your palms and you know jake could never pick them up for you. you don’t even expect him to.

because this love that you carry is not meant to be reciprocated, you know that at least. not when jake’s heart has finally found its home in the loving arms of neytiri. because while you are in love with jake, you love neytiri just as strongly. and just how you will do anything to make jake happy, you will do just as much to protect neytiri’s joy.

“i’m sorry,” jake whispers, the simple words loaded with so much emotion. you look into his eyes, see the storm raging, and you laugh.

the giggles spill from your lips like your trickling tears – soft, unexpected, and surprising.

jake looks up, astonished and confused at your reaction. you shake your head at him, moving close, reaching to hold his wrists with your smaller hands.

“jake, i know,” you say, smiling up at him. “i’m not hurt or lamenting. i’ve had years to make do, and many more years to realize that us being friends – that’s just as good. i don’t need anything more from you jake. i’m happy as we are.”

jake studies you, his eyes tracking your tears and the soft smile gracing your lips, memorizing the white freckles on your face and the patterns running along your cheeks. he gazes into you, seeing, not for the first time, how much you mean to him and his heart calms. because despite the tears and the heartbreaking confession, jake sees the serenity lining your face, and that is all that he could wish for.

he twists his hands so that he is holding onto yours, your fingers tangled with his. amber eyes gaze at you, heavy with sincere care directed at you. you giggle, a heartbreaking hiccupped sound, as he draws you close and pulls you into an embrace.

the last one, you think to yourself, burrowing your head onto his chest. and then he’ll be gone.

“thank you,” jake murmurs, his voice muted from where it’s pressed onto your forehead. “i- i’m sorry for not noticing. for not realizing, but thank you. thank you for still being with me. for choosing me and the clan. for fighting for us. i wouldn’t have gone far without you so thank you, kid.”

you nod, no longer trusting your voice, your lips wobbling as you stifle a sob. his fingers run along your braids, tickling the base of your ears, before pressing a kiss on the top of your head. then, he is pulling away, his warm embrace leaving you for the cool air to caress.

time has slipped past your fingers, it seems, and now it’s time for him to go.

“take care, jake.” you hold his eyes, willing yourself to be strong in front of him for the last time.

he nods, unable to leave with a pretence of a smile amidst his own teary eyes. but that’s alright. he’s given you enough of his kindness and love to last you a lifetime.

you both return to the edge of the cliff, the clan watching as the sullys prepare to mount their ikrans. neytiri offers you a tight hug, her sobs pressed on the side of your face and you hold her with weak arms, crying as your sister takes her leave.

the children squeeze you as they hug you goodbye. tuk promises to tell you the stories of her journey and you do not tell her that they might not return to the clan anymore, not when jake’s doing this to protect them from the humans, so you nod and tell her that you will wait.

because you will. you will wait for their return. for your friend’s return.

jake meets your eyes once more, raising his hand and waving goodbye, and then they’re all gone.

the clan members return to their tents, quiet and solemn, but you stay at the edge of the cliff, watching as they go smaller and smaller, until they’re engulfed by the colours of the vast sky.

mo’at stands beside you. waiting. silent. then, “come, child. you no longer need to hide.”

your knees buckle as you turn to her, unable to stop yourself from hugging her as you sob, not minding the fact that she is the tsahik as you seek comfort in her embrace. your lungs burn at the weight of your sorrow, and she holds you close, her aged arms holding you up as you weep.

because now, truly, jake is gone. he has left you behind, unable to follow him.

you had been fine not being his beloved as long as he was in your life. but now, you have nothing of him. just memories of him – his ghost.

#suns.f #jake sully x reader #jake sully x you #jake sully x y/n #jake sully x human!reader #jake sully #jake sully angst #atwow jake #atwow angst #avatar the way of water #i truly wanted to gut myself so here it iss #suns

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