#None of my close friends have played or finished the game yet | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

runningmunson · 1 year

Text

Can You Show Me?

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: Rafe finds out that you have never finished during sex. What happens when you ask him to show you and he is more than willing to be a good friend and help?

Warnings: 18+, fanon!Rafe (?), smut (f receiving), fingering, nipple play, teasing

It was a typical summer weekend in OBX; another party and another drinking game played at the Cameron household. The current game was a classic- never have I ever. Basic ones were thrown around like every party, such as drunk called an ex, snuck out of the house, or slid into someone’s DM’s. After several rounds and drinks, it got spicier.

“Okay, my turn!” yelled Abby, a girl from your school, “Never have I ever had an orgasm during sex.”

Everyone took a drink, even Abby. Kelce looked over at her, “What the hell Abby? The whole point of the game is to say something you haven’t done to get everyone else to drink!”

The group was so preoccupied with giving her crap that no one noticed you failed to take a drink; well, everyone except Rafe, that was.

Not long after, the party started to dwindle down. The last few people left Tannyhill, leaving you and Rafe to clean up the mess. It wasn’t uncommon for you to stay the night and crash at Rafe’s, considering you two had been best friends for as long as you can remember.

You had a system in place for cleanup, Rafe took the living room, and you took the kitchen, trying to throw as many cups and bottles away as possible before you went to sleep. The only sound coming from the house was music playing as you were too tired to have a conversation wanting to get finished.

When you were finally done, you made your way to Rafe’s room where he tossed you a t-shirt and shorts to change into. Once dressed, you left the bathroom and walked out to find Rafe shirtless in bed with your side ready for you. You climbed in and got on your phone to scroll through Instagram.

“You didn’t drink,” he stated bluntly; he locked his phone and set it on his side table.

“What?” you questioned, locking your phone and getting comfortable.

Rafe placed his hands behind his head and looked over at you with a smirk growing on his face, “During the game, you didn't drink about having an orgasm during sex.”

You could feel your cheeks grow warm, “I don’t know what you’re talking about; yes, I did.”

“Uh, no. I watched you, and you definitely didn’t,” he cocked his head and threw you a look, knowing you were lying. You refused to answer.

“Wait, you’ve really never had an orgasm during sex?” he questioned while letting out a small laugh out of disbelief.

You angrily turned around and pulled the covers closer to your body “Please don't make fun of me, Rafe. It’s embarrassing and-”

“I’m not making fun of you, alright? I'm just surprised is all,” he interrupted.

You turned around to face him, “It’s not like I've had plenty of experience with sleeping around. I can count on one hand how many guys I’ve been with, and none of them really cared enough about me or how I was feeling during sex to make sure I finished.”

“Fuck them then,” He said,” you don't deserve that, and I promise not every guy is like that.”

You didn’t know how to answer, so you both stayed quiet. You couldn’t help but notice the growing tension in the room nor stop the thoughts of wishing Rafe would be the guy who did care enough.

You could tell Rafe wasn’t asleep yet by the way he was breathing. “Rafe, can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?” he turned on his side to face you.

“Actually, never mind. It’s really stupid,” you tried to shake out the thought.

“I bet it’s not. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” he coaxed, attempting to get you to continue.

“Can you show me what it’s like?” You let the words flow out too fast and slurred for Rafe to fully understand what you were asking and closed your eyes tightly to avoid his reaction. If he said no, you could easily pass it off as having too much to drink and not thinking clearly. Rafe quickly sat up in bed.

“You- you want me to show you?” he stuttered out uncharacteristically of his usual confident and cocky self.

“I don’t know why I said that. I probably drank too much, so just forget it. I think I'm gonna sleep in Sarah’s room tonight,” you tried to get out of his bed but failed as he stopped you by gripping your arm.

“I’m not just gonna forget you said that. You and I both know you barely drank anything,” objected. “Fuck, did you really mean it?”

“Maybe…” you trailed off, looking around at anything in his room but his eyes.

“Hey, look at me,” he demanded.

You took a deep breath and turned to face him, your eyes meeting. “It’s just- I know you're experienced and the person I'm most comfortable with.”

“If this is what you want, I’ll do it. I need to hear you say it,” he emphasized.

“I want you to, Rafe,” you confessed with a shaky voice. Your hands found your shirt to remove it, but he stopped you.

“You don’t need to do that, at least not yet. This is gonna be different than the other times you’ve had because we won't actually be having sex,” he stated. He sat higher in bed and placed a couple of pillows behind his back.

You looked at him confused, “Then how is this supposed to work?”

“You do know there are other ways to achieve this, right? It’s not about me tonight, but all about you,” his signature smirk made its way onto his lips. “Come sit with your back facing me.”

Your legs felt heavy, and your heart was pounding. This is Rafe we’re talking about- you’re best friend, the guy you’ve been in love with for years. Was this just a dream? The sound of Rafe patting the place next to him drew you out of your thoughts. You walked over to the bed and sat down. His hands found their way around your waist and pulled you flush against his bare chest.

“Relax, okay? I’m gonna ease you into it, and if at any point you want me to stop, you let me know, and we stop,” he whispered in your ear. You shook your head in agreement.

You felt his warm breath on your neck as if he was hesitating- and maybe he was. Maybe he’s just as nervous as me. He placed a kiss on your shoulder and slowly began to trail upward.

When his lips finally met your neck, you felt a shiver run down your spine. The sudden movement made his lips curl up, knowing damn well the kind of effect a simple kiss was having on you. You felt yourself sink deeper into his chest and tilt your head to give him better access. His right hand moved from your hip and crept under your shirt, placing it on your stomach. His touch burned your skin.

Rafe continued up to the sweet spot behind your ear and back down, settling right below the nape of your neck. His lips felt like velvet against your skin, and slowly but surely, you felt him begin to suck on your skin, claiming you in what you’re sure will be a mark in the morning.

You were so caught up in the feeling that you didn’t notice his hand moving further up your shirt. The same time his teeth hit your sensitive skin, his thumb brushed against your sports bra-covered nipple, causing a soft moan to escape your lips.

“That feel good, baby?” He teased. He called you baby. You nodded in response despite knowing he didn’t need an answer.

He raised his other hand and placed both on your breasts, kneading the plush flesh. Every time his fingers ran over your nipples, your pulse picked up. Not wanting the thin fabric of your bra to impede Rafe’s touch any longer, you leaned forward and threw your shirt and bra over your head and onto the floor. Your nipples pebbled at the sudden coldness in the air.

Rafe chuckled at your sudden outburst and let his hands wander back up your chest. His fingertips circled your areolas and inched toward your now bare nipples. He ran his thumbs over them and began to toy with them, gently rolling and tugging the sensitive buds.

He dropped one hand to the waistband of your shorts, silently asking permission to continue. When you didn’t protest, his fingers slipped under. His index finger lightly brushed past your clit and to your folds slick with arousal.

“Shit, babe. You’re already so wet for me,” he removed his hand to get a look at his finger.

“Oh,” You tried to close your legs in embarrassment at his comment, but he grabbed onto your thighs. It wasn’t something you ever heard the other guys say.

“That’s not a bad thing, it’s supposed to happen if you’re a guy taking his time and not just trying to get a fix. Let's make the next part a lot easier, take your pants off,” commanded, and you complied, lifting slightly off the bed so you could pull your pants down your legs and onto the floor. He hooked his feet under your ankles so your legs rested on his to spread your legs apart.

Rafe’s hands roamed around your body and trailed down to your slit. He repeatedly ran his finger from the front to the back slowly, ensuring his finger was wet enough before his fingertip made contact with your clit. He started lightly circling your clit, causing pressure to build in your core.

Hearing your breathing grow louder caused him to speed up and apply more pressure when he stopped. You were about to protest but stopped when he slipped one finger inside you and pumped it in and out.

“Feels so good,” you whined, enjoying how his finger felt.

“Can you take another?” he questioned.

“Please, Rafe!” you begged him. He inserted a second finger going deeper and faster. If his fingers felt this good, you couldn't help but wonder how his tongue would feel. His thumb brushed against your clit, causing pressure to bloom in your lower abdomen.

“Fuck, Rafe! I'm so close!” you let out a loud moan. It was hard to ignore the growing bulge in Rafe’s pants.

“That’s it. Come for me, baby girl,” he demanded in your ear. The pressure built until you finally let go. You threw your head back and pushed further into Rafe, feet digging into the bed as you rode out your high.

Your breathing was fast and heavy as you collapsed against Rafe. He removed his fingers and wrapped his arms around you, holding you close.

“You okay?” he asked, kissing your shoulder blade.

“More than okay,” you let out a laugh. Once you calmed down, you rolled over to your spot in the bed, throwing your discarded shirt back on.

Rafe looked over and met your eyes. He reached out his hand and placed it on your cheek, leaning over to give you a soft kiss on your lips. His head rested on yours before pulling away. “Didn’t know hearing you moan my name would turn me on so much.”

“Do you want me to take care of that for you?” you motioned toward his obvious erection.

Rafe smirked and shook his head, “Nah, I got it. Tonight was about you, remember? Besides, you can just make it up to me next time.”

Next time?

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #outer banks x reader #obx x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x female!reader #rafe cameron #outer banks #obx #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks imagine

2K notes · View notes

lovelybeesthings · 6 months

Text

Bad idea right..?

Coriolanus Snow x fem reader

warnings: Smut I try okay😭

Word count: 2.3k

Context: Au where it's in a normal college no Hunger Games.

At Pilth College, it was known that Y/n L/n and Coriolanus Snow were in a on and off relationship and if you tried to get between the two you’d only get your feelings hurt, the two were made for each other but they had their problems.

Coriolanus was a jealous monster, While y/n was too oblivious sometimes they’d break up because y/n felt suffocated by Coriolanus's love and he’d state how she let guys hit on her on purpose just to make him mad which wasn’t true.

Both were gifted with looks like hand-crafted marble sculptures made for one another, though as much as Y/n tried to find someone else to be in a romantic relationship none could compare to the way Coriolanus loved her and ended up always going back to him.

As word of Sejanus throwing a house party since parents were leaving for the weekend to go to Italy. Everyone was invited and her friend's group was planning to go Coriolanus was attending since he was Sejanus's close friend, they had just broken up again this time much messier, and Y/n's friends were encouraging her to dip her toe on the dating scene.

Y/n was near finishing getting ready. She had already finished her makeup her hair was straightened and her outfit was a black mini skirt, paired with black stockings and black boots, her top was a black tank top, pulled off with a navy blue Jean denim jacket and some jewelry. Once her Lyft got to the house she was done and headed out out.

As Y/n gets out of the car she enters the party she sees her friends immediately and a smile spreads on her face “There’s the infamous Y/n” her friends joke as she bows and all together they laugh.

After a while y/n goes to the kitchen to get a drink holding the red cup in her hands, just as Sejanus walks threw his whole house and spots y/n and quickly sneaks his way to Coriolanus who was standing in a corner siping his drink from the red plastic cup not interested in anything bored.

“Coryo guess what!” Sejanus says trying to play with Him but Coriolanus just raises his eyebrow in response “Y/n is here at the party and is redeeming her cup in the kitchen and is alone” he says smiling telling his friend.

Catching the ears of Coriolanus and in the blink of an eye, he leaves to go find Y/n in the kitchen chugging what's left of his drink to have. A proper excuse to be there and stand next to Y/n “Hey missed me?” he says towering over her smirking seeing how good she looks right now she turns her head and gives him a sweet smile “I did what have you been up to Snowball?” she says.

After a while of catching up, the conversation changes to flirting as Y/ns friends start to look for her becoming worried about why she hasn't come back one of her friends spots her on the counter eyes locked in Coriolanus’s her ex of all people.

“Y/n L/n get your ass over here!” her friend call out for her firmly as a parent would to their child who doesn't know better “I have to go now nice talking to you again croyo”

Y/n soon walks off with her friend being lectured by the rest of the friend group for what feels like 10 minutes telling her she shouldn't be trying to get back with Coriolanus “Yes I know he's my ex but can't two people connect! He was telling me how he's trying to change” she says trying to plead as they shake their heads in disapproval.

“You were practically drooling over him and didn't He say that last time to you last time you broke up?” her friend says not impressed “he's just trying to be my friend and then maybe more…” Y/n says the last part under breath.

“Well, I'm gonna go home tired and don't think I'd like to be hungover in the morning,” Y/n says to her friends as she enters the Lyft dropping her home.

I haven't changed clothes yet and just lay in bed phone in my hands watching TikToks to cure my boredom as I get a message “Wanna come over 💗” from the contact name “Goldy locks Snowball” I bite my lip thinking if I should be logical “whatever its fine” I think as I sent him a text back a thumbs up with a kissing emoji.

I head out with my Keys driving to his apartment complex I knock on his doot on the second floor he opens the door standing and smiling at me as I try to think if I should leave last second but my mind is fuzzy seeing him look so sexy in that wife beater and his blond long curls in this light.

I smile pushing him inside take off my shoes and lock the door as his lips crash onto mine pushing me against the wall my legs wrapping around his abdomen as our tongues explore each other and my hands reach his blond curly locks.

“Someone sure did miss me,” he says smirking “Shush goldilocks take me to the bed!” I say using one of my many nicknames for him and grunt horny as he takes us to his bedroom as we take off our clothes until we're both bare naked.

Coriolanus eyes are attached to your round juicy breast as he presses his lips against my nipple, his teeth moving along the peaked bud. He extended his hand to grip and tickle my other breast, not wanting to leave one neglected.

I moaned loudly into the room as he lifted his hand to grasp and amuse my other breast, moving between the two, not wanting to leave one ignored.

"God dam it," he moaned as he continued away. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." he says in between his kisses on my breast and the licks causing me to whimper.

I want to return the favor so I started handing at his covered cock with my hands. Coryo closed his eyes and pushed himself closer to my grasp. I had a strong desire to show him how much I missed him while enjoying the way I was making him feel.

he released every last drop of his cum into my mouth as he pulled out his face ridden with blush “You look so beautiful right now” he says breathing rapidly.

He wasted no time and began inching his way into me. He rocked himself into me, grunting. “Coryo!” I moan to the feeling tears slipping out

"Shit." He whimpered "You're fucking tense. Just rest out for me, hmm, love? You're doing wonderfully well "You're a good girl, my dear."

Desperate to feel his fingers burying into my hips, his nails grazing my skin, and his lips bruising my flesh as he fucked so passionately “I'm close so- close!” I moan out.

I cum on his cock as his hot seed fills me as he collapsed above me, his eyes closed, his forehead resting against yours "It's okay, I'm on the pill" I say as I try to breathe as we lay under his covers.

I'm now staring at the roof of his bedroom his arm over me tucking his head into my shoulder and falling into sleep as I think “Was this a bad idea?” I turn my head and close my eyes letting myself feel the love in the moment.

#coriolanus snow x reader #reader #coriolanus snow #fanfic #tom blyth x resder #hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #smut #tom blyth #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus x reader

267 notes · View notes

eyesthatroll · 1 year

Text

how many drinks? | luke hughes

pairing; lh43 x fem!reader

warnings(s); none really, fluff? lowercase intended, not edited. also written in like 15 minutes so kinda bad (might rewrite/re-edit it at a later date idk)

word count; 0.6k (blurb!)

summary; luke approaches reader at wedding reception

"do you want to dance?" you lift your gaze from the game of candy crush that you were currently enthralled in.

a tall brunette is staring back at you. he looks down at you expectantly, rolling on the heels of his feet. "do i know you?"

the boys cheeks tinge pink, and he runs a hand through his slightly curly hair before speaking again. "n-no, i just, i don't know. you look bored."

his awkwardness brings a smile to your face. you ponder his offer for a moment, the song 'skin' by dijon playing through the speakers.

the dance floor had a few couples on it, the other guests scattered around the room, eating cake or loitering near the bar.

you flip your phone screen side down, and chug the rest of your drink. "sure pretty boy, let's dance."

you lift your hand up, and he take it in his, easily pulling you out of your chair. he leads you to a small corner of the dance floor.

your arms rest on his shoulders, hands crossed behind his neck. his hands finding home on the small of your back.

"i never got your name." you state, the two of you swaying softly.

"luke." he answers sheepishly, seemingly embarrassed that he hadn't already told you his name.

"so, which side are you here for, luke?" you asked, your fingers beginning to absentmindedly play with the hair that coiled at the nape of his neck.

"oh, um, the groom. he's on my team."

you brows raised in confusion. "i didn't know you were a player for the devils, not sure i've seen you on the ice. though, i've only watched maybe a few games so i could be completely wrong"

"i haven't-well not yet, at least. i just signed my contract a few weeks ago." he says.

"that's exciting," you begin. "leaving college, i presume?" you're not sure if your questions are too personal, but luke makes no moves to ward them off.

luke gives you a bittersweet, close lipped smile. "yeah."

"that's got to be hard, leaving your friends?"

he tilts his head, thinking a moment. "i mean, yeah, but i'll still see them. plus, i have jacky, and the rest of team-they've been pretty nice and welcoming."

you nod in understanding. "so jacky, she your girlfriend?"

" oh god no!" luke sputters, his cheeks painted crimson again. "that's my brother-jack. he plays for the devils, too."

your eyes widen, and you kick yourself internally for your assumption. why would he of asked you to dance if he was in a relationship?

" 'm sorry, i shouldn't have assumed." you apologize, shaking your head slightly to yourself.

"no, it's all good! i'm single, by the way."

"professional hockey player gets no bitches?" you tease, feeling more comfortable with him by the moment.

he lets out a breathy laugh, his hands tightening around your waist. "i think i do okay with..the ladies." he trails off.

you mouth an 'okay', and dramatically nod your head.

"just looking for the right girl, i guess." he finishes.

"that's understandable." you agree.

"and you?"

"looking for the right girl?"

you laugh at your own joke.

"no-no, i mean, beautiful girl like yourself must have..suitors."

luke's face contorts into one reminiscent of pain.

you followed suit, cringing at his choice of words. "suitors?"

you laugh at him shamelessly, a big bellied laugh that draws attention to the two of you on the floor, not that either of you noticed, too engrossed in your own world.

luke pulls you closer to him, burying his head in your shoulder. "stop laughing."

—

mari speaks! again, like mentioned in the preface, wrote this super quickly so not edited/kinda bad but i might re-do it or make a part 2 idk. also, luke’s playing in his first playoff game tmro so make sure to wish babyboy some luck <3

#luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes imagines #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes fic #nj devils #new jersey devils #umich boys #umich hockey #hockey #nhl

709 notes · View notes

iwritefandomimagines · 1 year

Text

THIS ONE’S FOR YOU — JAMIE TARTT

masterlist

request: Hello! Can I request a Jamie Tartt imagine where the reader is also a footballer (maybe she plays for Chelsea?) and Jamie comes to see the match. After she wins, they reveal their relationship and everyone is SHOCKED. Thanks a lot!! xx

warnings: bit of swearing, otherwise none just a bit of fluffiness. you’re a chelsea player !

“I’ll see you later baby,” you sing-songed, putting on your best brave face to pretend you weren’t stressed to the core about the game ahead of you, “I’ll look for you, yeah?”

Jamie curled his hands around your waist, pulling you close to him and pressing a kiss to your lips, “You’re gonna smash ‘em, babe.”

You pulled away a little to look at the confident grin on his face, biting your lip as he dipped his head to kiss your cheek, “You’re literally their Jamie Tartt, love. How could you not win?”

You scoffed, pressing your palm to his chest at his usual cocky remark about himself.

“Thank you, superstar,” you teased, stepping back to adjust your kit as his eyes scanned your body, “Nobody else is even in here yet, we’ve got time…”

He licked his lips, once again pulling you flush to his chest — but much to his dismay you pushed him away, “Later, J, later. I’ll meet you out back so we can sneak out? Then you’ve got me all to yourself.”

Jamie didn’t say anything for a moment, glancing around the room for a split second before looking back at you with a sigh.

“I don’t think we need to be so, like, secretive anymore Y/N,” he shrugged, “I mean, two of the best footballers in England are dating… It just makes sense, if you’re asking me.��

Now it was your turn to ponder that thought.

It wasn’t that you were ashamed, or embarrassed, but you were only just getting used to the attention that came with being Chelsea women’s star striker.

It was overwhelming, and with that pressure already on your shoulders, you weren’t sure how ready you were for the paparazzi storm to swirl around your relationship.

You’d been together for months now, somehow managing to do so in secret — mostly behind Jamie’s effortless pretence that he was still fucking around — and so maybe he was right, and sharing your relationship with your friends at least seemed less crazy now.

“OK. Yeah — maybe you’re right,” you nodded, hearing noise coming down the hallway, “We’ll talk about it after, alright? ‘Might explode from the stress right now, and them lot freaking out over us won’t help. I’ll see you later, babe. Love you.”

“Like I said, you’re gonna smash ‘em. Good luck babe,” he grinned, sincerity in his features as he admired you turning to open the door for him, “Love ya too.”

—

And yes, just like he said, you did smash them.

Not only that — but you scored your first hattrick of your professional career so far, in a fucking cup semi-final against Liverpool!

As you scored your third goal and your teammates swarmed around you to celebrate the 3-0 score, your eyes flickered through the crowd to find your boyfriend again.

As your eyes met his, you broke free from your teammates and mimicked his usual goal celebration, watching the crowd go wild and your whole squad too as they saw just who you were looking at.

The adrenaline coursing through you was giving you unmatched levels of confidence, and suddenly your worries about the reaction to your relationship dissipated entirely.

“Do my eyes deceive me or did Y/L/N just do Jamie Tartt’s classic celebration, whilst looking at the one and only Jamie Tartt himself in the crowd?”

So everyone noticed, commentators included.

Your best friend on the team returned to your side, then. She gripped your shoulder, pulling you close and leaning into your ear, “You’re so in trouble for leaving me to find out you’re fucking Jamie Tartt like this. You have so much to tell me.”

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, yeah, later!”

The game finished 3-0, Liverpool’s defence proving stronger in the final 20 minutes of the match despite the fact that you’d dominated for the majority of the game.

As the final whistle was blown, you looked over at Jamie again, who was sat between Ted and Sam who’d accompanied him to the game.

He’d asked them to join him because he knew they’d say yes, and he made the excuse that he knew someone who scored him free tickets — which wasn’t actually a lie, obviously.

Despite the conversation going on, Jamie was zoned out just watching you.

It was crazy how much Jamie had mellowed since meeting you.

Of course, to some degree he was still the cocky fucker you’d fallen for when you met at a mutual friend’s party all those months ago. But since meeting you, he seemed to finally grasp that not everything revolved around him.

In fact, if anything, these days he seemed to find everything in his life revolved around you.

You drew in a sharp breath — everyone had seen your celebration, seen you fluttering your lashes at your boyfriend every time you looked into the crowd, seen the proud smile adorning his face as he watched you.

And so once you made your rounds with some of your squad to say hi to some fans, you clambered up the steps to where they were sat.

“Hi, Ted and Sam, right?” you grinned at them both as they nodded eagerly.

“‘S a pleasure to meet ya,” Ted nodded as he stood to shake your hand, “You were absolutely fantastic out there, Y/N. Better than our Jamie over here, maybe,” he saw Jamie’s glare and laughed, “I kid, I kid! You’re both stars, hey!”

Oh, you were so gonna rub that in Jamie’s face later.

“You really were great,” Sam chuckled, “It’s great to meet you, Y/N. Big fan.”

You were flattered, blushing at the compliments coming your way, and Jamie took this opportunity to interject. He stepped in front of Ted, leaning forward.

“Told ya you’d smash it. Good celebration eh,” he smirked, and as you felt your skin prickle with goosebumps at his intense gaze, he gritted his teeth and leaned in to your ear, “Can I kiss you?”

You felt your body shiver under his touch and at his breath fanning in your ear as you thought about his request.

His words were so gentle, but you could hear how desperate he was for you to say yes and it made your heart flutter.

With adrenaline from the win coursing through your veins, accompanied by the fact that you could hardly say you wanted to hide things after your big display on the pitch, you uttered a breathless, “Please.”

He didn’t waste any time, scooping you close to him and capturing your lips with his victoriously.

When you pulled away from the kiss, you were acutely aware of the fact that all eyes in the stadium were still fixated on you.

“Well I’ll be damned!” Ted grinned, hands leaving his pockets to rest on his own cheeks, “Talk about a power couple! How long have y’all been keeping this from us?”

A few of your teammates swarmed behind you too, all hooting and hollering at what they’d just witnessed.

You glanced across at Sam and noticed he was seemingly on a group FaceTime call with a load of the other Richmond players — all of whom were equally as shocked.

“We’ve been together about seven months?” you looked across at your boyfriend, whose arm was rested around the base of your back protectively, “I was funny about us telling people but then… I got so excited seeing you in the crowd and couldn’t help myself.”

“You were fuckin’ amazing, babe,” Jamie grinned as you all began to leave the seats and they followed you into the tunnel, “Looked fuckin’ hot out there too. As always.”

You blushed again, rolling your eyes, never having gotten used to his compliments.

“Thank you babe. We’re gonna have a looot to deal with when I get out of here, aren’t we?” you sighed, glancing around at the stares and whispers surrounding you.

“Definitely,” Sam interrupted your moment, turning his phone in your direction, “You and the rest of your team are welcome to come to Ola’s tonight,” he offered, “The boys are all desperate to meet you, and you can celebrate there if you’re free.”

“How the fuck did he pull Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Seven months and you never told us?”

“Hey! You knew how much I fancied her!”

The shouts from down the phone all made you giggle, but you suddenly felt shy at the attention.

Jamie had told you about Ola’s before, and you were delighted to finally be able to visit now without the secretive circumstances causing any problems.

“It’s well worth it, now I get to make everyone aware you’re me girl,” he smirked smugly, throwing an arm over your shoulder and kissing your forehead, “They all fancy the fuck outta you. But you’re all mine.”

“Down boy,” you laughed, nudging his side and leaning up to kiss him, “I’ll see you in a bit, yeah? I’ll ask the girls about tonight. I’d love to finally come to Ola’s,” you added, smiling over at Sam and Ted too in appreciation for the invitation.

“See you in a bit gorgeous.”

As he turned to walk away to wait for you, you heard him grumble, “I know she’s like, the hottest woman alive and a bit out of my league. But is it that hard to believe she’s me girlfriend? I’m Jamie fuckin’ Tartt!”

You stifled a laugh at his comment, before swallowing thickly as you approached the changing room doors.

Time for an onslaught of questions from your teammates — all thoughts of your victory somehow gone as the news of your secret relationship overtook all conversation.

——————

i hope this was okay !!! sorry i feel like it’s a bit messy but i hope you liked it. would anyone want a part two of you acc meeting the richmond squad?

feel free to keep requesting as requests are open and i’m still v excited to write haha!

in the meantime, here’s my masterlist!

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #ted lasso #ted lasso imagines #ted lasso imagine

710 notes · View notes

kyber-kisses · 2 years

Text

Oblivious

Steve Harrington x Bestfriend!Reader

Summary: Steve finally realizes he’s fallen for his best friend. . . With a little of Dustins help

Warnings: none

A/N: this was just a little blurb I came up with when listening to Springsteen by Eric Church, I hope y’all enjoy!

“I swear dude, I’ve never seen someone pitch a ball so fast. I’m surprised it didn’t catch fire or some shit.” Steve explained, talking around the mouthful of food he still had.

“Yeah Steve, I know. You’ve told me the story several times already.” Dustin sighed, sliding down further in his seat in the food court of the mall.

“So what? It’s a good story!”

Playing with the straw from his Orange Julius, Henderson gave Steve somewhat of a tired glare. “Do you have any stories that don’t revolve around Y/N? I’ve been gone a month dude, there has to be something.”

Steve opened his mouth to respond, the gears in his head turning as he tried to remember everything that had happened over the past month. . . But each interesting story always had you involved in some aspect.

Watching as his friend opened and closed his mouth clearly trying to think, Dustin let out a groan, his head falling back as he did.

“What am I supposed to say?!” Throwing his arms intro he air, Steve leaned back in his own seat, “I’m sorry that I have a lot of fun hanging out with my best friend?”

At that, Dustin let out an amused laugh, earning a confused look from Steve.

“What’s so funny?”

“You are such an idiot.”

“Ok first of all, rude. No I am not.” Bracing his elbows on the small table, he jabbed his finger at Dustin, “and two, what the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that you are so clearly in love with Y/N!”

“Woah, hey! No I am not!” Jabbing his finger yet again in Dustins direction, Steve stood from his seat. He had to get back to work or Robin was going to beat his ass.

“Just hear me out!” Rushing to follow Steve back across the food court, Dustin slings his backpack back over his shoulders.

“No!”

“Yes!”

Steve had to stop himself from stopping into the shop as he made his way back behind the ice cream counter. “Henderson, I said shut it!”

“Not until you admit the truth!”

To this day, Steve still had no clue how he hadn’t strangled this kid by now. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair, “I’m not in love with Y/N, Dustin.”

“Guess again. So you want me to list off the reasons for you?”

“No, please don’t—“

“One,” Dustin starts, holding up his pointer finger, clearly showing he’s about to start listing reasons. “You are always talking about her.”

“So, that doesn’t me-“

“Not finished. You are constantly gushing over how amazing and cool she is. It’s like never ending. Two! People constantly think that to two of you are dating!”

“Wait, Wh-“

“Three! You are always the happiest when she’s around and you are constantly trying to make her laugh and smile and when she does you literally light up!”

“No I don-“

“I’ve literally seen your cheeks turn pink!” Dustin jabbed a finger in his direction, nearly knocking a jar off the counter. “Don’t lie!”

“Jesus dude, keep it down-“ Steve rushed, seeing that several people had turned to look at them.

“Four,” Lowering his voice, Dustin leans over the counter top. “Whenever she compliments you, you forget how to act for like a solid minute. I’ve witnessed it. And five—“ he leans in even closer, a new glint in his eyes. “You’ve thought about kissing her.”

“How the hell could you have possibly—“ Steves eyes widening in shock as he looked at the kid across from him.

“Ah-ha! I was right!” Dustin jumped, pointing yet again at Steve, “I was honestly just guessing but you just proved my point!”

Stepping back from the counter, Steve let’s his body fall back against the back wall of the ice cream shop. As he took a deep breath he let his mind walk backwards and go through all the times he had hung out with you in the past few months and how they felt different from all the years before. He hadn’t missed a single one of your softball games this summer, and he always brought you food afterwords as a small gift. He had found himself watching you more and more even if it was you doing the most mundane of things like tying your shoes. . . And now that Dustin had said it- he does remember several times where he randomly caught himself thinking about what your lips would feel like against his own.

“Holy shit.”

“Told you.”

“Holy shit!” He repeated, standing up straight once again, eyes now wide. “I gotta go!”

His body was moving before his brain was and all of a sudden he was vaulting over the cash register and running across the parlor. It wasn’t until he had reached the entrance that he suddenly stopped, shoulders dropping before awkwardly backtracking to Dustin and ignoring all the stares of the people around him.

“Ok, ok but just one little problem-“ he whispered, “I can’t do anything about it because there’s literally no ways he likes me like that. Like, if I told her she would look at me like I needed to be taken to the hospital and then our whole friendship would be thrown in a dumpster and set on fire.” He rushed, watching as Dustin gave him somewhat of a concerned look.

“Ok first of all, I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say any of that and two, you’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, so you’ve told me several times now.” Steve nodded in annoyance, “but why am I still an idiot.”

“Because clearly you’re too wrapped up in looking at her that you don’t notice how’s she’s looking at you.”

“I. . . Am not following.”

“Oh my god.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Dustin sighed yet again. “Steve practically everyone sees the way she looks at you. It’s like you hung the damn star themselves. You’re always making her smile and when you crack a joke she always laughs the loudest. She clearly likes you back dude.”

“She does?”

“Yes! Now for the love of god please stop asking me questions!”

“Ok, ok-“ Steve breathed, nodding as he began back stepping the way he had ran earlier. “Uh, tell Robin I had to go run and errand.” He lied, fishing his car keys out of the pocket of his uniform before turning and rushing full speed out of the ice cream parlor, dodging people as he did.

“Go get her Tiger!”

“I’m gonna try!”

*. *. *. *. *. *. *.

When Steve finally reached his car, the sun was beginning its decent, bathing everything around him in a golden light. It’s late June and he can already hear the crickets starting up beyond the mall parking lot.

The drive to your house feels like an eternity even though it couldn’t have been more than five miles away. He can’t help but glance at the dashboard clock every few seconds.

7:30

You should be home by practice right now, and he hopes beyond anything he didn’t show up while you were having your usual family dinner. As he past street after street he kept trying to rehearse what he was going to say, but the second he pulled up to your families house, all words left his mouth.

You were standing out on your front lawn- well not standing, more like dancing as you moved your body to the music spilling at of the radio sitting on your front porch. A pair of discount shades were perched on your somewhat sunburned nose as you threw your head back and forth to the beat of the music. You were wearing a simple plain white t-shirt and a pair of cut off jeans, a pair of discarded flip flops lay a few feet away in the grass.

You seemed so carefree and happy.

Between the setting sun giving you a golden outline and the smile on your face- you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

After a few seconds, his body decides to finally move, his eyes never leaving you as he slid out of his car. At the sound of him slamming the car door shut, you finally look up, pausing your yard party as you lift your sunglasses above your eyes, squinting at him as he walks across your lawn.

“Stevie? I thought you worked until 8 all week?”

“Uh yeah,” letting out a shaky breath, he runs a shaky hand through his hair, “Robin said she could finish up and let me dip out early.”

“Oh did she now?” You weren’t buying it. You knew Robin, like hell she’d be fine with closing up alone.

“Yep, crazy I know.”

“Well what are you doing here? We don’t usual hang out on Tuesday nights since I have practice and you have work.” You explained, closing more of the distance between the two do you as you let your bare feet lead you across the freshly cut grass.

“I have something to tell you.”

“Oooh?” You quirked an eyebrow, a playful tone in your voice, “are you professed your undying love for me?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“. . . What?” Your voice getting suddenly very quiet.

“I’m in love with you.” He spoke quietly, almost as if he was trying to match your own soft voice.

“Steve-“

“I am.” His eyes never left yours as he stepped closer, “and I’m not gonna deny it because one, it’s true. And two. . . Dustin might actually murder me.”

“Wait what has Dustin got to do with this?”

“He Uh,he kinda helped me realize my feelings for you.” Letting out a breath he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Ah gotcha.” You smiled again, amused by the information. Of course it was Dustin that had knocked the sense into him. Letting out an awkward hum Steve rocked back on his heels, hands shoved deep inside the pockets of his vest in hopes of hiding his shaking hands. He had never been nervous around you.

Ever.

“Can I tell you a secret Steve Harrington?” You suddenly whispered, stepping even closer to the point where your chests practically bumped against eachother.

“Yeah, I’m pretty good at keeping secrets I guess.” He shrugged, slightly forgetting how to breath with how close you were.

“I’m in love with you too.” And with that you closed the remaining distance between the two of you and softly kissed your best friend Steve Harrington square on the lips. Time seemed to stop as Steve felt your lips distinctly on his, and then he was pulling you closer, eyes fluttering shut.

This is Y/N He thought, this is Y/N- oh my god.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things x reader #stranger things #chevys writing again

2K notes · View notes

gyusfavlibra · 1 year

Text

STRESSED | VERNON HANSOL

Pairings: idol!vernon x afab!reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, unprotected sex, profanity, angst, fluff. Sexual language.

Word count: Idek

Proofread: nope :)

……………………………………………………………………………….

“Vernon?”

Your feet drags you through the hallway. The same furnished tunnel that separated your shared bedroom from your living room, kitchen, and the front door you just entered.

You had just finished another double shift at work. Missing hours a few weeks back because of a vacation you have previously took.

Your feet were sore, you body ached with not only pain, but tiredness if that makes sense.

Working as a coffee shop manager wasn’t easy. You had to keep track of times, workers, products, etc. It’s a heavy duty. And it’s every day of the week. So the first thing you wanna do during this weekend break you were approved of, was go straight home and rest. Preferably with your partner of two years.

“Vernon, you home?”

None of the calls you make of his name get a reply. Which was weird considering he texted you right before you left your work place saying he’d be down to have a movie night to make you feel better.

His idea.

The silence was loud until you reach the entry of your bedroom. Pushing open the rectangular door that blocked you.

Inside sits not only your clean room, but Vernon. Sitting at his desk playing video games. With headphones.

That explains the silence.

“Vernon, you hear me?”

The closer you get behind him, the more you can hear the screaming voices of his friends through the foamed ear muffs. You throw your tote bag onto the bed and flicker the light switch on the wall to get his attention.

Vernon’s body turns at lightning speed. When his brown orbs lay upon you, he can’t help but smile. He raises from the the black and green gaming chair, pulling the headphones off his head.

“Hey,” he greets you. His soft pink lips peck your temple right as a hand slips around ur waist to pull you close. “How was work?”

“Fine, I guess.”

Your response is followed with a shrug. Vernon takes note upon this and sighs. But he doesn’t say anything more. “I’m just tired.”

“Rest.”

“I will. Gonna make something first. Have you eaten yet?”

He shakes his head. “Wanna order something? It’ll be easier.”

The thought of ordering out instead of cooking a whole meal hadn’t even crossed your mind for some reason. But now that it has, the latter is definitely the way to go. Vernon whips his phone out his pocket. Opening a delivery app, then passing it to you.

“Get whatever you want. My treat.”

He kisses your lips, lightly, before turning back to the gaming station to continue. “You don’t wanna hangout?”

��Oh, uhm-“

The way his eyes travel to look at the computer shows he had forgot about the plans to relax together tonight. It totally slipped his mind the second his best friend messaged for some gaming time. “How about when food gets here?”

“But you said-“

“Just a minute, Dino,” he speaks over you. “When foods here. I promise.”

And then he’s gone. All his sense put back into the electronics with his friends. Leaving you to fend for yourself. Entertain yourself. All on your own.

You aren’t even gonna try to hide the disappointment that waves over your system. It was Vernon’s idea to have a night together when you got home from the stressful day of chaos you’ve dealt with.

And you appreciate his effort because you know he cares. But actions speak louder than words.

After putting in a order for not only yourself, but Vernon as well given that you know what he likes, you toss his phone on the large shared bed. Removing the converse on your feet, you grab a set of clothing to replace the uniform on your body. Heading into your bathroom to run yourself a nice bath. It’s the least you could settle for right now, but it works.

You make sure the water is more in the colder side to awaken your muscles. The fruity smell of your body soap fills the bathroom space. As well as your nose.

It doesn’t take long for you to finish, your bathing time followed by your nighttime routine. Vernon’s still in the game Even after the half hour you spent in the bathroom, settling yourself for the night.

Setting your dirty worn clothes of the day into a basket, you put away all your products and duck out the bathroom.

Vernon’s still in the same spot as before. You only push aside how upset you feel instead of prepping a whole big deal out of it.

You pull the dark comforter that lays on top on your mattress upwards so you can slide yourself under it. For minutes, you tried to occupy yourself watching his game that flashed on the desk monitor. Vernon speaking every few seconds to communicate with his teammates.

But that wasn’t enough to not feel bored and alone. Your hand flips your phone upwards so its screen is connected to your eyes. Of course you gotta adjust the brightness considering it being later in the night so the bedroom itself isn’t even bright enough to match how vibrant the display was.

You open Netflix in hoping to find a show or movie that’ll keep you interested enough to stay awake until food got here.

It definitely upsets you that you have to spend this time to make yourself feel more relaxed when Vernon usually helps you. You understand completely that he wants to play games with his friends, very understandable.

But you wished he had sorted his time and schedule a lot better. Instead, everything for the night has been switched around.

Of course there’s always tomorrow but after a good nights rest, you’ll probably feel better already. You wanted to spend time with him now.

Your saddened thoughts are interrupted by the sound of your home’s doorbell. Of course Vernon’s not gonna get the door so you retrieve yourself out of the bed and out of the bedroom.

Setting the given meals onto the kitchen counter, you call out Vernon’s name. Maybe if you’re loud enough, he can actually hear.

“Vernon! Foods here!”

You pull the containers out the plastic bag. “Vernon!”

A sigh leaves your lips. Now you have to drag yourself all the way back to your room just to get his attention off the screen and into yourself.

“Babe,” you call while tapping his shoulder. He pulls one of the headphones off and behind his ear. “Food’s here. Wanna go eat?”

“Oh, yeah give me a second.”

“Are we gonna watch something?” You ask. Your finger play with the hemming on the hood of his sweater.

“You still want to?”

The brows on your forehead, furrow. “Of course I want to. I’ve been waiting this whole time to watch a movie with you. It was your idea.”

“Why’re you getting mad?”

His hands raise from the keyboard. Almost like he was trying defend his own self.

“I-I’m not. I’m just saying.”

“Okay, why don’t you set up a movie for us and I’ll be right out there. Hm?”

You nod with hesitancy. Questioning whether or not he’ll actually be out there anytime soon. But watching him leave the game lobby was A answer on its own.

“Guys, guys, I got to go. Y/n’s not having the best day and I promised I’d spend time with her.”

You set up Netflix on the living room tv. Setting the plates of your food into the cute coffee table that sits on this vintage rug Vernon’s mother gifted you at Christmas the previous year. You also grab a large fluffy blanket from the hallway closet.

The bedroom door opens with a squeak. Vernon comes marching out in a new set of clothes. Just a tshirt and some pajama pants.

“Food smells good.”

You nod in agreement. Vernon pretty much collapses onto the dark grey L shaped sofa. Adjusting the blanket to lay across his man spread legs. “Want a drink?”

“Mhm. Thanks.”

You hand him one of the two cokes from the fridge, settling next to him. Usually you’d be a lot closer than what it seems, and Vernon noticed the distance between you two.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“C’mere,” he pulls at your elbow. Using it against you to pull your body into his own. Your knees prop onto the couch. His arm swoops around so it lays across your chest. And you cling to it like you never wanna let it go. Because you really don’t. “Talk to me.”

“Huh?”

“Did I do something?”

“No- it’s not like that. I’m just tired,” you speak softly.

“Then why are you mad at me?”

The debate between letting this go now that your together or actually telling him why you’re truly upset with him. Either way the vibes will be ruined in your eyes.

“I’m not mad, I promise. It’s just- todays been super stressful. And you told me that when I got home, we could watch a movie and spend time together.”

“I did, yeah.”

“But I come home and you’re playing video games, leaving me to wonder whether you actually wanted to be by me, or not.”

His heart breaks. He understands exactly what you’re saying. Because he did say he’d be right there to make you feel better when you got home. And he won’t deny that. But he hadn’t noticed he had been leaving you out.

“And then you say we can hangout when foods here.“

“Y/n-“

“…and I had to practically beg you to come out here when it was you, who told me we’d have this time together.”

“Hey, I know. I hear you.”

“I know this is probably dramatic. But I’m stressed. And I want to be by you. It makes me feel better. But I want you to want to be by me too.”

All of this open his eyes. He made you feel so alone. And in no way, shape, or form, did He find any of this to be dramatic. Far from it. You find Vernon as your home. Your comfort. You are just as well for me. And you’re always there to hear about his stressful work days. Holding him when he feels like crying, hugging him when he needs to comfort. It’s only fair to him, that he does the EXACT same for you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you alone. It sorta slipped my mind. But that’s no excuse.”

You lift your head so your eyes meet.

“I’m sorry.”

He bends his head forward to peck your soft bubbly cheeks. Once, twice, three times. Each kiss followed by another apology. It only makes you giggle. “Okay, okay!”

You try to pull away but he calls your name which pauses your movements. “Hey, I really am sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re here right now and I’m feeling so much better already.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, cause I got food,” you joke. Vernon jerks your body against his which make you giggle.

“Oh really?”

“No, no. I’m kidding. I promise.”

He only hums in response. Instead of giving any word, he leans down to kiss your smiling lips. You reciprocate. It’s passionate at first. Slow. And super soft. You can feel the love in it. Both of you can.

But the second he mumbles “I love you” against your lips, it starts to get more heated than the passing kisses. The pressure of your mouth are a lot more compressed and hard than the softer and peck-like ones from before. And it grows more heavy by each second.

The position isn’t all that. Both of your necks are craned so its not all that comfortable.

You pull away to sit on your knees, turning to his body so your face to face. You lay a leg over his thigh so you can set yourself in his lap.

A hand of his holds your waist, but under your shirt so he can feel your skin. You pull him so your chests touch, reconnecting your lips.

Your hands trace his biceps and up to his shoulders where you grip on them tightly.

Vernon’s bulge is so obvious in the pajama pants he’s wearing. You can trace it with just your mind and the feeling between you. You lift yourself just a tad bit. But it was more like a grind. So you both could feel the desperate feeling that was racing in your veins.

His hand on your waist guides your hips at this point because your too focused on his lips that doing it on your own, its a little sloppy.

His covered erection rubs so perfectly against your wet heat. And for a second you think Vernon isn’t enjoying this because he stops kissing you, stops your hip movements, and places his head against your shoulder.

“Wait, wait. Stop,” he whispers. Moving his head right away to look you in the eyes. “We dont have to have sex tonight. We can just watch the movie.”

“No- I want to. I really want to.”

“Are you sure? Because we can just cuddle now and do this another time.”

Your stomach turns. “Do you not want me?”

“No, of course I do. I do. But I don’t want you to do this because of me. I know you had a bad day so if you wanna just relax, we can just relax.”

“Vernon, I really want you. I really do. Okay?”

He chuckles, “Okay.”

Vernon holds your waist even tighter so he can flip you on the couch. That way your pinned into the sofa while he hovers above you. He presses his lips even harder than ever on yours. Lifting your (his) t-shirt so your stomach is revealed to him. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah,” he says with a smirk.

Vernon trails a hand from your covered breast to the waistband of her pajama shorts. Your breath shudders. You couldn’t even remember the last time Vernon touching you made your breath hitch the way it is right now. To be fair, you haven’t been TOO intimate lately because of your busy schedules so maybe that just the reason. Its been just quick morning sex and then you both go on in the days like nothing happened. Obviously still affectionate but again, its the in bed affection that makes this so intimate right now.

Vernon’s lips trace the outline of your jaw just as his hand slips into your bottoms. Under the shorts AND your under wear, right to the place thats needed the most.

“Relax baby.”

His finger slide in between your soaking desperate walls. Your thighs twitch. The direct contact already making you feel so overstimulated.

He rubs circles right on your clit. At the same time as sucking little marks behind your ear. Its your sweet spot. He knew that better than anything. “Can I put them in?”

“Please.”

Not another word needed before he slips his pointy and middle finger inside you. Pumping them in and out at a pace that satisfies you enough to already feel your high coming. Thats how great Vernon made you feel. He thrusts his bulge against your opened up thigh. Giving himself some friction while focusing on making you cum.

Vernon knows to listen to your body. The language, the speed of your breathing, the height and volume of your moans as well as the space in between each of them. For example, when he angles his fingers just perfectly that your moans are now higher pitched.

So when you finally reach your climax, Vernon’s already ripping your bottoms off your body along with his own. He presses two quick kisses to your mouth before grabbing his rock hard cock into his hand and slapping your plumped lips with it. You body jolts at this sudden action.

“You sore?”

“No, no. I’m feel great. Just still coming down.”

He pauses all his movements. “Want me to wait?”

You hum with a shake of your head. “I still want you.”

“You sure. We can stop now if its too much,” he says with assurance. Thats one of your favorite things about Vernon is no matter how certain you sound, he’ll always continue to make sure thing okay. He’ll never push you to go any farther if you were sure.

“I dont wanna stop. I’m okay, I promise.”

Vernon kisses your temple. And holds his lips there as he sinks himself into you as slowly and sweetly as possible.

You moan into his shoulder while gripping his biceps. The stretch gets you every time. Not super painful but when slips in so slowly, you can feel the curve of every vein on his cock. “You okay?”

“Perfect.”

Vernon grips your thigh to lift it over his waist. Giving more access to your center to thrust more easily. He hits a spot so quickly that your nails are creating moon crescents into his skin even with the short sleeves covering his skin.

Your gummy walls suck Vernon in so nicely that now his own breath is shuddering against your skin. This dint even fucking in either of your eyes. This is your way of making love to each other. And you loved being able to do so with someone who cares so much for you.

He places a strong hand onto your breast and squeezes it through the green bra that covers your skin. The contact makes your high approach even faster than before.

A echoed moan travels through the room and it hits his ears so magically. “You like that? When I touch you?”

“I love it. I love it so much.”

Vernon can feel his high approaching rapidly. With every kiss, every touch, every thrust, it makes him wanna come undone. Smashing your lips together to swallow every moan you expose because of him is like taking a pill. You’re his drug. Everything he needs.

“Fuck- I love you so much, Y/n.”

“I love you too.”

“Say it again.”

And you do. And when asks you to say it again, you do. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. You’re gonna came me cum, Y/n.”

“Me too, Nonnie.”

His hand leaves your breast to circle your clit once again. “Oh, I’m-“

“Do it for me.”

You hold his lips to your own as you climax subdues your entire body. And just the sight on your beautiful body shaking over your orgasm has Vernon cumming as well and painting your insides with white liquid strings. “Fuck, fuck.”

His hips don’t stop until your high are long over and done. Vernon kisses your lips once more before pulling out of you while resting his head on your own. “You okay? You feel okay?”

You smile. “I feel amazing.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely,” you nod with a little giggle escaping with your words. Vernon retrieves both of your bottoms from the floor and put them back on your bodies. More gently for you than his own self.

“I’ll warm up the food and we can watch that movie.”

Those words make your heart flutter. You nod while Vernon stands from the couch, bends down to peck your lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

And then he’s off to the kitchen warming up your dinner while you start the movie.

#kpop imagines #vernon #hansol vernon chwe #seventeen fluff #vernon smut #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #vernon seventeen #vernon x reader #vernon fanfic #seventeen vernon #vernon chwe #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine

383 notes · View notes

jaimeslanisters · 1 year

Text

the pawn in every lover’s game (part twelve)

Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!Reader

When you’re ten, your father sends you to King's Landing to befriend a princess and woo a prince. A lioness growing up amongst dragons is a dangerous thing indeed.

crossposted on ao3 masterlist word count: 8.2k notes: i live!!!! so sorry this chapter took so long - i got a new job, had relatives visit, my college friend visited, i saw taylor swift omg omg omg - but i’m still here working on it!! trust that it will be finished bc i have big plans for our little pack of greenies (: enjoy part one of the helaena/aegon wedding day!

Your hunger pangs wake you long before the sunrise ever does. For a few moments, you lie there, listening to the quiet sound of Helaena’s breathing. After the dinner that was more a test in restraint than anything else, you had dutifully followed the princess up to her room and, just like the pair of you had so many times as children, you had curled under the covers together, not touching but just close enough to feel each other’s heat radiating through the thick covers. As little girls, the two of you would always whisper and giggle throughout the night and you would fall asleep to Helaena eagerly lecturing you about whatever insect had caught her attention, your mind spinning with her passionate words and all the little facts and details she had learned from her books.

There had been none of that last night. Instead, the two of you had crawled into bed and, after a final prayer that you didn’t think either of you believed, had fallen asleep.

A part of you wishes you had kept her awake, that you could have made her laugh with jokes about the septas that had trailed the two of you all day or about all the ceremonies the pair of you had to perform. Maybe you could have asked her about Aemond and his unerring desire to push boundaries and your own willingness to let him, let her tease you in that kind way she always did where there was no bite to her words, no hidden meanings for you to puzzle out. Maybe you could have comforted her, maybe you could have lied and said everything would be alright.

But you hadn’t. You had slept instead.

You feel a flash of relief that you didn’t eat anything last night. That means there’s nothing to throw up.

As quietly as you can, you creep out of the bed, careful not to make any noise or shift the bed too much. Helaena has always been a heavy sleeper though and, aside from a whine of displeasure, she doesn’t stir, simply turning on her side and curling into herself.

You look at her for a moment, taking in her white curls poking out from underneath the blankets, her pale hand lying limp on the side of the bed. She looks so terribly young like this, more the girl she used to be rather than the woman she was and had been for some time now. You wonder when the switch had happened, when the girlish features of Princess Helaena Targaryen had faded away and been replaced with the ones of the woman who would turn into Queen Helaena, sister-wife to King Aegon, second of his name.

Try as you might, you can’t find that version of herself in her sleeping form, can’t make a crown on her seem like anything more than when you had played pretend as children. She’s a girl. You can’t make her anything but - can’t pretend you have any desire to.

Yet this is the final day when you will have that girl. Tonight, she will be married to a brother that she only loves as a brother. She will be wedded and bedded and that girl will only exist in your memories. Maybe sometimes you’ll see her in echoes in the future, in the children Helaena will bear or even in Helaena herself, but you will never see her, not truly, again.

Today was a funeral as much as it was a wedding and you want to scream and scream until your throat rubs raw and no more noise can escape you.

Today should be happy you remind yourself, forcing yourself to remember the songs you had sung only yesterday underneath the watchful eyes of the septas and the Maiden statue, the beautiful songs about the grace and strength that came inherent in marriage. You even try to remember the songs that the singers sung, the ones that promised that marriage was beautiful and kind and good. It isn’t the end of anything. Nothing will change.

Nothing would change, not physically so. Helaena’s chambers would move to border Aegon’s, of course, but the two of you spent your time in her mother’s sitting room or the gardens anyways. She would remain in the Red Keep, just like you would, and things would be like they were. You would still have tea together, you would still read your books and go riding and dig with her in the dirt to find whatever shiny bug had caught her attention. Nothing would change.

Maybe if you repeat it to yourself enough, you’ll eventually start to believe it.

With a quiet sigh, you pull yourself away from the side of the bed, heading towards the plush chaise that bordered the massive window in her room. You clear off the cushions, gently placing Helaena’s glass terrariums on the ground. Inside of them, insects slither and writhe, clearly upset by you disturbing them, flailing wildly in protest, but once you move them, you promptly settle on the chaise, curling up so you can stare out at Blackwater Bay.

This early in the morning, the sun hasn’t even risen yet but you know that much of the castle must be awake. By now, servants must be running through the halls, hastening to finish whatever tasks they had to complete before the ceremony today. Perhaps even the Queen was up by now, already managing the preparations, no doubt worrying herself to excess with all the little details that made up a royal wedding.

You already know, without a doubt, that Aemond is awake. He’s always been an early riser - a fact that you had often bemoaned to your uncle in your first years in the capital. Before Driftmark, he would always use the early morning hours to study in the library and you would usually accompany him, hiding your exhaustion behind copious amounts of tea. After Driftmark, however, he had used that time to train in the yards, dragging Ser Criston along with him before the sun ever got a chance to rise in the sky. He never told you why he changed his schedule, merely informing you that the pair of you would need to meet at a different time, but he hadn’t needed to. It hadn’t been too difficult to figure out.

He trained as early as he could so people wouldn’t see him fumble with the loss of his eye. The injury had taken away all the skill he had worked for years to attain, leaving him no better than a green boy who had never touched a sword in his life, and his pride would not allow him to suffer the pitying stares from everyone else in the yard, not when he already had to deal with them as he walked through the hallways of the Red Keep.

You know for a fact that it had taken a better part of a decade for Aemond to rejoin the typical hours that the knights occupied the yards, having preferred his early habits so he could continue training with only Ser Criston as an instructor. Occasionally, other members of the Kingsguard had joined, in order to keep his training from getting repetitive against only one opponent even if the opponent was widely considered to be the greatest knight living.

His years of training, however, had paid off - when Aemond had finally deemed himself ready to reenter the training yards with the other men, he had famously knocked even some of the most seasoned knights into the dirt, something that he had never bragged about to you but you had heard from the gossip that spread like wildfire throughout the castle. His victory did not mean his habits changed, however. Even now, having long since made up for the lack of an eye, Aemond kept to the same schedule, rarely, if ever, straying from it.

Somehow, you can’t picture him in the training yards right now, though, not when the entire city was preparing for his siblings’ wedding. You’d be surprised if the yards were even open for usage - no doubt some form of wedding preparation had taken advantage of that large and relatively empty space. No, if anything, you imagine Alicent has placed him and Daeron on Aegon duty, to both ensure he ended up where he needed to go and to ensure that he was sober - A difficult task that you’re not sure even the most experienced Kingsguard nor the most grizzly man of the Night’s Watch could handle.

Kingsguard swore oaths to protect the king against all of his enemies and the men of the Night’s Watch were supposed to be the shield that guarded the realms of men and, somehow, you doubt that either could handle Aegon at his worst.

This past week, poor Daeron has been tasked with serving as his brother’s keeper, trailing behind him to prevent him from becoming too embarrassing in public. Aemond, no doubt, would have been tasked with the same impossible demand if only his attention hadn’t been stolen away by the tourney.

You can only imagine how exhausted the two princes had to be if they spent the night with their wayward brother. Aegon had left the dinner looking distinctly queasy, even more sway in his steps than when he had first arrived even though Alicent had purposely kept the wine carafes out of his reach. Daeron had immediately followed behind him but Aemond had only moved when his mother had shot him a glare, sharply jerking her head in command. Aemond hadn’t complained or even said anything in return, merely getting up to trail behind his brothers, looking as if he’d rather be anywhere else than there.

With any amount of luck, hopefully, the two princes would have reined in Aegon’s indiscretions. Aegon tended to steamroll Daeron, typically able to get away with more than he ought to, but with Aemond, the dynamic always seemed to flip. Out of everyone, save maybe the Lord Hand, Aemond alone seemed to be most capable of forcing Aegon to bend to his will for the sheer fact that he was unafraid to physically manhandle his older brother, uncaring of his brother’s position as the presumptive heir in the eyes of most in Westeros. In turn, Aegon tended to follow his brother’s commands even if he usually did it while arguing fiercely or causing as much trouble as he could.

If there was anyone who could ensure that Aegon would turn up to the wedding in a state at least resembling sobriety, it was Aemond.

You settle into the corner of the chaise, staring out at the Blackwater. The sun still hasn’t risen but soon - the sky is lightening more and more by the minute and already, pink and yellow clouds soften and blur the horizon like paints on a freshly finished portrait that someone had run their hands through.

It will be a beautiful day - more than the wedding deserves.

Taking deep breaths to steady your nerves, you watch the shifting sky, thinking about watching Vhagar feed with Aemond only two nights earlier. In the daylight, with no dark skies and empty waters to hide her, she would look even more monstrous, even more like an impossible spectacle that could engulf all of King’s Landing in her shadow.

You wonder where she is right now. Whether or not she’s resting or if she’s hunting in some other part of the world.

Maybe the sunrise will summon her.

You keep staring out of the window, a part of you hoping that Vhagar will fly back from wherever it is if only so you can see her in the morning light, when the doors to the chambers fly open and you twist your upper body towards the source, slightly frowning at the loud interruption.

Immediately, a stream of handmaids enter the room, each of them laden down with something that they’re carrying whether it be all the silks and lace Helaena will be dressed up in or trays and trays of food for the pair of you to snack on while they prepared you for the day. In the middle of all of the almost militant movement, Queen Alicent stands, deep in conversation with her handmaid Talya.

The Queen is already dressed, an absolute marvel in emerald green with her red hair nearly glowing in the warm sunlight streaming in from the windows, and you wonder what time she would have needed to get up at in order to prepare herself.

Did she even sleep? You think, completely baffled by how put together she already looks. You were in your nightgown still and Helaena was still in bed, completely covered by blankets, and here she was, already ready to ride down to the Dragonpit for the ceremony.

Before you get the chance to say something or even stand to greet her, she gestures for the handmaids to put down the food where they can, taking over a good solid half of the bedchamber. On the other side of the room, the other handmaids clear space, laying out Helaena’s wedding gown on a table, her maiden cloak neatly folded next to it. From here, you can see glimpses of the red thread that you and Helaena had used to painstakingly embroider her House’s sigil and something in your chest squeezes tight and fierce at the sight of it.

Alicent gives you a small smile and nod before she sits on the side of the bed, staring down at her daughter for a moment, her hand reaching out for her daughter’s curls. Helaena shifts in the bed, rolling over on her side, staring up at her mother.

You watch them, heart in your throat, and the only thing you can think is that you shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be here to see this moment. This should just be for Alicent and Helaena. A mother and her only daughter.

I want my mother.

You look away sharply, staring down at your lap, twisting your hands up in the white fabric of your nightgown.

If Lady Johanna were here, nothing would change. Helaena would still be marrying Aegon. Her girlhood would end to the cheers of a watching King’s Landing. The night would end in blood-stained sheets. There’s nothing your mother could do to stop it nor would she.

But she would be here, with you. She would be sitting by your side just as Alicent was sitting with Helaena. She would be brushing her hand over your hair and she would tell you that even if everything changed around the pair of you, that didn’t mean that the two of you had to change with it.

You’re the blood of the old kings, a lion of the Rock, Your mother’s voice echoes in your head. The world bends to your will, not you to it.

Taking deep breaths, you calm your pounding heart and lock away your longing deep inside of you, where it couldn’t hurt you. When you look up, Helaena is sitting up in the bed, her hand curled around her mother’s.

Alicent isn’t crying but her eyes are shining in the light.

“Are you ready, my sweet girl?” Alicent asks. Behind her, a handmaid steps forward as another one carefully lays out brushes and oils and strips of ribbons onto the vanity.

Her question hangs heavy in the air.

After a moment, Helaena nods. She doesn’t shake or tremble. She doesn’t tear up or frown. She simply nods.

Helaena has always been stronger than anyone has ever given her credit for.

Alicent doesn't say anything. She merely raises Helaena’s hand up to her lips and presses a kiss on her knuckles, closing her eyes as she does.

You did this, a part of you wants to accuse. You and no one else.

But then again, who were you to judge someone for marrying their family off? You sent Cerelle into the North, away from everything she’s ever known. At least here, Helaena would remain in her home, would remain surrounded by those who love and support her.

Alicent was marrying Helaena to Aegon to protect her, to protect their lineage. You married Cerelle off for your own ambition.

You swallow back your protests, all your complaints and accusations. They weren’t meant for the Queen anyways.

Alicent guides Helaena to the vanity where a handmaid immediately descends upon her to start rubbing oil in her hair as another begins to brush her thick hair back. Helaena flinches back, startled by their fast movement and their intimate touch, and Alicent swoops forward, gently pushing the handmaids back slightly so that they’re not pressed up against the princess’s back.

You watch for a moment longer, eyes trailing the way the handmaids are beginning to work together to braid elaborate patterns into the hair at the crown of her head, their hands moving nearly impossibly fast, before you turn to the spread of food that has been laid out. Most of it is light food - various loaves of bread and cheeses and hams - so that the pair of you could break your fast and not keel over in the middle of the ceremony.

None of it, however, feels particularly appetizing right now. The bread looks unbearably heavy, the meats look salty. You don’t want any of it - not now when your stomach is still rolling with anxiety and worry for not only the upcoming day but for all the days that would follow after.

Still, if you didn’t eat now, your next chance wouldn’t come until well into the evening, during the wedding feast. You’d be just as liable to gnaw off someone’s arm as you would be to pass out and disrupt the ceremonies.

With a small frown, you stand from the chaise to walk towards a small end table where servants had laid out small slices of bread with little jars of assorted jam placed carefully all around. You look down at the food with a sense of trepidation, trying to figure out which fruit would be less likely to upset your stomach, when someone clears their throat next to you, calling your attention.

You turn to face a short servant girl, one you’ve seen often trailing behind Talya and, in turn, Alicent. She smiles nervously at you, no doubt terrified to have called your attention towards her, and, after a beat, holds up a tray of lemon cakes in front of her.

“Prince Aemond asked me to save some from the feast for you, my lady,” she says, a small tremble in her voice telling you that she’s wholly unused to being the one to address the nobles she served.

You stare down at the tray, your cheeks feeling impossibly hot.

The absolute nerve of him…

“Thank you…” You flounder for her name, feeling a flush of embarrassment that you can’t recall it, but the girl only smiles, clearly desperate for any reason to leave your immediate vicinity. She moves the tray of bread and jams slightly to the side, placing the lemon cakes right next to them, before she gives you a quick curtsey, scurrying off to join the other handmaids waiting patiently by the door for any one of your commands.

You turn to face the lemon cakes, feeling your stomach turn for a completely different reason.

Aemond and you rarely toed the line of impropriety, the past few days aside. The most you had ever gotten to doing something decidedly improper with him was when you had snuck into his room at Driftmark. Your intentions had been entirely pure though, if someone had spotted you, you doubted that they would have accepted any explanation you could have put forward. In the years after, though, the two of you had kept your careful distance from one another, conscious of the rules of etiquette that ruled your every move.

Of course, that didn’t mean you obeyed all of them - neither of you had ever bothered to get a chaperon for your meetings in the library or even raise the question of it. Maester Dustin, the old man in charge of the library, was asleep half of the time and was deaf the other half. If ever questioned, you would have cited his presence but no one but the most lenient and generous would count him as a true chaperon and the court at King’s Landing was anything but.

Despite ample opportunity, however, the two of you had never tried anything improper. You hadn’t even tried anything proper. Aemond had never requested a meeting with your uncle, had never made a formal request for your presence that would indicate he was interested in a betrothal meeting. Things had been as they always had been.

Until the tourney. Until Victor Florent had tried to claim you, forcing Aemond’s hand in revealing his intentions or risk an attachment between you and another man in the eyes of all of King’s Landing.

Things were different now. You didn’t know where the line of acceptable transgressions was and, if Aemond’s words last night at the dinner that was not quite a dinner were any indication, he was very interested in pushing it as far as he could.

It wouldn’t be a problem if you knew where the line even began. Aemond’s ‘hint’ about the bud between your legs was the first time anyone had ever told you something concrete about your body and the pleasure that could be derived from it, the pleasure from which you were supposed to abstain. Your septas only ever spoke about the act of bedding in the most clinical of terms; he’s meant to get on you and his member will enter you. It will hurt. You must bear the pain. You must take it. This is your duty as a wife and as a mother.

None of it had ever sounded appealing to you, had never called your attention. It was easy to restrain yourself when the actual act sounded like a tortuous thing to suffer, something you would have to endure rather than enjoy.

Aemond promised pleasure though. He promised that the prize was something you would want, something that would be difficult to hold back from. Something that you would long for just as you had yearned for the lemon cakes last night.

You stare at the lemon cakes for a moment longer, your eyes lingering on the candied lemon slice placed delicately on top of the soft yellow sponge. The sugared delicacy gleams in the light, the glaze incitingly beautiful, and all you can think about is the way Aemond had licked the sugar off his fingers, the way his mouth had gleamed after.

You’ve never been one to pray to the Maiden but you pray to her now, asking for her forgiveness.

Perhaps if you met Aemond, you would understand, you tell her even as you reach for a lemon cake. Perhaps you didn’t know what you had to abstain from either.

——————————–

Somewhere in the middle of the handmaid weaving flowers into your hair, Helaena starts to scream.

You nearly knock the poor handmaid over in your attempt to rush to the princess’s side, tripping over your own feet slightly, but you right yourself quick enough, nearly blind in your panic to reach her. Alicent is already standing next to her but, when she tries to touch her daughter, Helaena jerks away, shaking her head and curling into herself, wrapping her arms around her stomach.

“Helaena,” you cry out as you slow to a stop in front of her, hands trembling from the restraint of stopping yourself from reaching for her. “What’s wrong? What is it?”

She shakes her head again, eyes gazing ahead without seeing. You’ve seen them go empty and glazed when she tells her strange riddles but this is something else. Her amethyst eyes are so dark you can no longer see the color as she stares at the table in front of her. She’s shaking so badly you would think it was freezing inside of the room if it wasn’t for the sun’s blazing heat coming through the windows.

“Shadows in the wall,” she sobs, sounding as if she’s gasping for air that just won’t enter her lungs. “Shadows in the flame. There will be no choice. No choice at all.”

Helaena lets out a loud keening cry, finally ducking her head down as she curls into herself even more.

“Clear the table,” Alicent hisses, waving her arms wildly, and immediately servants move forward, taking away the trays of jams and cheese and bread with even more speed than when they had put them down. The Queen is shaking, terrified and helpless, and you’ve seen this look in her before and it stings now just as it had at Driftmark.

She could do nothing then and she can do nothing now.

You kneel in front of the princess, close enough that you can reach out for her but far enough that there’s no danger that you’ll touch her by mistake. “Helaena,” you try again, a note of desperation entering your voice. You’ve never seen her like this, so out of control, so hysterical. “Helaena, I’m right here. Your mother is right here. You’re ok. You’re safe.”

You almost scream yourself when Helaena’s hands fly out, grasping your face. Her grip is tight, almost painfully so, but you bear it because it’s her. She stares into your eyes, searching and begging, and you wonder where she begins and where the prophet that replaces her does. You wonder if there’s even a difference. “A lioness,” she begins, her voice soft like a prayer. “Will burn blood to protect her pride.”

You nod, almost dumbly, and she leans again, nose nearly brushing yours.

“Feed well the land,” she insists. “Drown the stone. Burn the sea. Fell the sky.”

You nod again, your heart pounding so hard in your chest that it reverberates in your skull, a marching tune for no one to follow.

Helaena’s eyes bore into yours for a moment longer, a moment that reaches into eternity and traps you within it, until finally, she lets go of you, leaning back until she sits perfectly straight, a statue for all to see.

Helaena comes back.

And she begins to cry.

It’s soft and gentle cries as if she’s already exhausted herself and this is the only noise she can produce. Next to her, Alicent settles on the bench, hesitantly reaching for her daughter’s shoulder. When Helaena leans into her touch, the Queen lets out a shaky breath, pulling her daughter into a tight hug, cradling the back of her head as she rocks the two of them back and forth.

You sink to the ground completely, leaning forward to rest your head against Helaena’s knees as you take a deep, gasping breath. Your quick movements have completely unraveled all of the handmaid’s work and, even now, you can feel the delicate poppies she had braided in falling all around you, landing on the cool stone floor.

You can’t bring yourself to care, however, not when Helaena’s desperate words are running rampant through your mind. Two of them are her most repeated prophecies, ones that always send her into hysterics. You wake up in the middle of the night thinking about them, about what they could mean, what you could even do to prepare. Her last prophecy was a new one but no less nonsensical.

None of it meant anything yet it all meant everything.

An eye has been closed Helaena had promised that night in Driftmark and Aemond had been scarred forever and the war between the two branches of the Targaryen family had started in a crowded hall with a brawl between children.

You couldn’t decipher her words, not until it was too late. There was no one you could talk to, no one you beg for answers. Helaena herself never knew the meaning behind her riddles for all that they haunted her every movement.

There was no easy answer here, no solution to puzzle out, and it made you want to weep for the unfairness of it all.

You feel a hand touch the back of your head and, after a moment where you forcibly pull yourself together, you lean back, resting your chin on Helaena’s knee so you can look up at her. Helaena’s eyes are redrimmed and her face is impossibly pale. She doesn’t do anything like smile but something in her gaze is soft, comforting.

Tears rise in your eyes and you press your face against her knee, taking deep breaths to try and calm yourself. Her hand rubs down the back of your hair, gentle and kind, and soon another hand joins to touch your shoulder and you know that Queen Alicent is reaching for you as well. You press your face even harder into her knee, fighting the urge to sob.

None of you say a word.

You don’t have to.

——————————–

You’re late down to the courtyard because of course, you are. Even the handmaids’ top speed was not enough to prepare you and Helaena in time and Alicent had waved you down to the courtyard in a bid to at least start the ceremony slightly on time. It’s a verifiable hive of people, more crazed and hectic than you’ve ever seen it. A small army of servants is racing to prepare wheelhouses and horses while golden cloaks from the City Watch take up a good bit of the crowded space, all of them listening attentively as Ser Harrold belts out orders to them. Behind you, the same red cloaks your father had assigned to watch you at the tourney trail behind you, their hands on their swords as they carefully scan the only slightly organized chaos around you.

The tourney will seem almost like child’s play compared to the pageantry the Queen had planned for the wedding proper. Even arriving at the Dragonpit will be a chore - while the majority of the court will ride in their wheelhouses to reach the ceremony location, you and the other attendants will ride on white chargers, out in the open for all of the smallfolk to see you. The route would be heavily guarded, of course, but the idea was for the people of King’s Landing to witness the strength, the might, and the beauty of the royal family of Westeros.

These are people to be loved. These are people to be followed.

It was a show - a crucial one. The smallfolk would have little say in who would next sit the Iron Throne but having their devotion would certainly make things easier.

You scan the hordes of people and almost immediately, you spot Aemond and Otto Hightower, standing tall even next to the massive white horses that would serve as your ferry to the Dragonpit. As you approach them, weaving your way through the moving masses, you can start to make out Rhaenys and Daeron and Aegon, their silver hair a beacon in the crowd.

Surrounded by soldiers and servants, the extravagant luxury of their clothes stands out starkly, a marked difference from all the silver armor and the grey uniforms. Otto’s outfit is the most understated - it was a darker green than he normally wore, so green that it was nearly black, but the velvet was rich and it shone in the sunlight, the golden flame of House Hightower outlined in actual golden thread. Similarly, Rhaenys’ dress is a tribute to her family, paying respect to House Velaryon. It is a dark blue, the silk moving like the water that surrounded Driftmark whenever she shifted. In her hand, she casually swings the Crone’s lamp though the flame was not yet lit.

The Targaryen princes were a marvel to behold.

Daeron, standing between his two brothers, has some of his curly hair pulled up and away from his face, braids keeping the rest of his hair from falling into his eyes. His tunic was a rougher fabric than either of his brothers but it was hardly anything to scoff at with its golden trimming and brilliant sheen. Around his neck, a necklace of golden hammers hung and, whenever he moved, they would clink together like bells in the wind.

Someone, more likely than not his own brothers, had likely held Aegon down to be scrubbed at and cleaned since you haven’t seen Aegon look nearly this alert in years. His curls are neatly maintained rather than the stringy mess they normally were and an iron coronet was nestled neatly on top of them. It wasn’t a crown, no true crown by any means, but it was dangerously close to being one. There were no heavy arches, no bold jewelry, but it was a distinction that only few would make. No one but the Lord Hand could have been the one to decide for Aegon to wear it since you doubt the prince himself would make that bold of a decision and there were few that could force him to do it anyways. It was a reminder to the realms that this was the next King of Westeros, the only true heir that could be by all the laws and traditions that governed the kingdoms.

It’s a testament to how striking Aemond looks that you’re able to tear your attention away from the political moves Lord Otto is making to focus on him.

Unlike most depictions of the Warrior, he wasn’t in a suit of armor but whichever tailor had designed his outfit had clearly drawn inspiration from one nonetheless. He is dressed in a dark, velvety green, similar to his usual dark clothing, but, in ode to the Warrior, black chainmail has been laid over it. It was far too fine to be made out of actual metal, the twists in it too delicate and careful, but it shone in the sunlight, gleaming dangerously and swallowing the light. The mail was cinched at his wrists by black vambraces and around his waist by a heavy belt, pulled tight to showcase his slender build. Off of it hung a sword and, encrusted onto the pommel, the seven-pointed star formed out of dark rubies.

This is what the Warrior was meant to look like. This is who the songs were about.

You reach them soon enough and, when all their eyes turn to stare at you, you realize why the smallfolk whispered about the divinity of the Targaryens, how they were closer to gods than to men.

All of them, from Rhaenys to Aemond, are otherworldly, too beautiful and odd to be real.

If you were a lesser lady, you would be frightened to stand in front of them, too scared to draw their attention and mar their vision with your own imperfection.

As it is, you drop into a curtsey before rising up to stand tall and proud, tilting your head up to look them all in the eye.

Rhaenys smiles at you first. “You look lovely, my lady,” she says, her eyes crinkling at the corner from her smile, and you duck your head in acknowledgment, murmuring your thanks.

Unlike the rest of Seven, the Maiden didn’t have a symbol that denoted her holiness. She wasn’t like the Smith with his hammer or the Warrior with his sword. She wasn’t the Father or the Mother where her virtue was the service she had done for the world. Her beauty was her grace instead.

You’re dressed simply to accommodate that - a white linen dress that is tailored exactly to your figure, so perfectly starched that it’s nearly blinding in the sun. The handmaid had worked deliriously fast to weave red and yellow poppies into your hair, braiding your hair to keep them in place, and, unlike everyone else, you weren’t laden down with gold to showcase your wealth and power - your only accessory is a garland of parchment that annoyingly crinkles whenever you move.

You’re almost ridiculously plain next to all the Targaryens with their silver hair and amethyst eyes but you try your best not to let it get to you as you nod your thanks to the chorus of compliments that come your way from all gathered.

A chorus that one voice does not join and, when you look up, Aemond is already standing by your side, looking you over carefully.

You raise an eyebrow when he meets your eyes, suppressing the urge to laugh delightedly when Aemond refuses to be flustered, simply quirking his head instead and offering you a real smile.

“Please don’t commit an act of blasphemy through your compliment,” you say when he opens his mouth, grinning when he shakes his head.

“I was simply going to say that the Maiden herself would be envious of you.”

Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire even as you mockingly frown. “That feels borderline.”

“You’ll have to forgive me then,” Aemond murmurs, his arm brushing yours. The chainmail feels cold even through the thin layer of linen and you fight the urge to shiver at its cool touch.

You smile then. “I may be dressed like the Maiden but I don’t think I’m qualified to forgive people for that. You’ll have to ask a septon.”

“Good thing there will be plenty of those at the Dragonpit,” he says. He picks his head up, having spotted someone in the crowd. “In fact, here comes one now.”

When you glance over, the first thing you see is the High Septon’s crystal crown gleaming in the sun. It’s almost blinding the way it shimmers and reflects the light but still, most people stop and gape at the rainbow streaming through the stones and how the colors dance on the cobblestone. It’s the most beautiful crown you’ve ever seen in your life, completely peerless and without compare.

What a shame that the man beneath the crown was not.

To be fair to him, you’ve never spent much time with the High Septon. You’ve only ever seen him at a distance during his weekly sermons that the royal family all attended. But the times you have been near him have been uncomfortable, to say the least.

The High Septon has these pale gray eyes, so pale they seem almost colorless up close. Those eyes always latched onto you, staring so deep into you that it seemed like he was searching for the smallest hint of sin and blasphemy within you. His eyes would trail any bit of skin you had on display and it didn’t feel like when men in the Red Keep would stare at you with lust in their gazes, when they were attempting to peel back your layers of clothing with their stares alone. His gaze felt burning, scornful.

Like with his look alone, he could damn you to one of the Seven Hells.

Even dressed as the Maiden, you feel sorely lacking as his pale eyes seek you out from underneath his rainbow crown. The dress feels too tight, the fabric too thin. All the beautiful poppies in your hair suddenly feel like vanity rather than a prayer for fertility.

You shift awkwardly, wishing you had insisted on a shawl or something to cover yourself with. It would have been more of a hassle than anything, especially considering the spring sun beating down on your back, but it would have been worth it just to have something to pull closer to yourself, to hide away even the smallest scrap of skin.

You only meet the High Septon’s pale, cold eyes for a moment before Aemond moves in front of you, casually and seemingly without purpose. His back is broad enough that he neatly covers you up and, when the High Septon looks over at him, he bows his head in acknowledgment even as he stands his ground, concealing you from sight.

Your heart pounds loud in your chest as you stare at his back for a moment, wishing you could reach out and grab him. Instead, you stay rooted to your spot, carefully sidestepping the High Septon as he walks past you to the carriage that will carry him to the Dragonpit. Behind him, a few septons trail behind, heads bowed as they murmur prayers under their breath, and, behind them, looking frazzled, Alicent speeds past her two youngest sons, heading directly for Aegon, stopping right in front of him.

She doesn’t say a word as she cups his face with her hands. She doesn’t say a single thing. Instead, she stares at her oldest son, her first child, and Aegon stares back.

The courtyard is crowded, people streaming past you, pushing and jostling to get to their spots quicker. All around, there are servants yelling and, even now, you can hear Ser Harrold’s booming voice speaking to the knights surrounding him.

But none of it matters. Not when Aegon looks like a little boy again, his eyes wide and vulnerable. You don’t even remember him looking like this when you had first come to the capitol - even at thirteen, he had never seemed like a child. There had always been this world-weariness to him, this anxiety that he wrapped around himself like a cloak. The worst thing to ever happen to Aegon Targaryen had been his own birth - with it, his fate had been sealed and the noose had been tied around his neck. Since the days when the First Men struck down the Children of the Forest and lifted themselves to power, there had only ever been one thing that the firstborn sons of Kings could become.

He had never been a boy.

But he is one now as he stares at his mother.

You want to look away, you want to give them their privacy but you can’t. You can only stare at them. Hesitantly, you move closer to Aemond, your hand coming up to grip the edge of his sleeve slightly. He rocks towards you but, in your periphery, you can tell that his eyes are also focused on his mother and brother.

Alicent opens her mouth, to say what you’ll never know, since Aegon shakes his head slightly, finally looking down, looking away from his mother. Even from here, you can see that he’s shaking.

The Queen pauses for a moment, staring at her son’s face in her hands. You wonder when’s the last time she’s held him - when’s the last time she tried and the last time he let her. You pray it wasn’t long.

After a moment, she presses up on her tiptoes slightly, pressing a kiss against Aegon’s brow, lingering for a breath.

Aegon doesn’t move, doesn’t react, but, when his mother pulls away and his eyes open, they’re glistening with tears.

Is it worth it? You want to ask even though you already know the answer you will surely receive.

Otto Hightower pauses for a moment by his daughter and grandson, gazing down at them with his usual stoic expression. Not for the first time in your life, you’re desperate to peer inside his mind, desperate to know what he’s thinking.

He doesn’t give you even the slightest opening, the slightest hint of what is running through his mind. “We must begin if we’re to finish anywhere near on schedule.”

Alicent tears her eyes away from her son, dropping her hands from his face. She nods, her own mask coming back onto her face. “Helaena is waiting for you inside. The rest of the attendants must leave with Aegon. Only you will ride with her.”

Otto looks at his daughter for a moment longer, clearly looking into her for something. The Queen stands steady as she looks at him, her brown eyes hard as steel as she stares into the eyes of her father. Whatever he was seeking he must find since he nods his head and begins to walk back into the Red Keep, some members of the Kingsguard trailing behind him.

The instant the Lord Hand moves, it seems like the chaos in the courtyard finally has a focal point: all of the attendants. Immediately, servants begin to bring the massive white horses to each of you, the grand beasts in question neighing loudly as their fragile peace is disturbed. The chargers move slowly, heavily, and you eye them as a pair of them slow to a stop next to you and Aemond. You’ve ridden horses before - every Westerosi noble worth anything was skilled in horsemanship - but never one close to this size. The horse looms over you, snorting air out through his nose aggressively as he stamps his feet, and you reel back slightly, stepping closer to Aemond and pulling the fabric of his sleeve closer to you.

“You control him,” Aemond reminds you, his voice low, as the servants swarm around the white chargers, securing the straps of the saddle soundly. “He’ll listen to your commands.”

“I should hope,” you respond, glancing up at him. “I feel like it's an awful omen if the Maiden gets carried away on a runaway horse.”

He shakes his head. “Surely no more bad luck than a Maiden being tempted during her fast.”

You smile despite yourself. “There’s no abstinence without temptation. I’m sure my sacrifice means more that way.”

“Perhaps the Seven will reward your faith. Surely they know that Aegon and Helaena will need it,” Aemond responds, shaking his head at a servant when he takes a meaningful step towards you. The servant in question falters slightly, looking at a loss for words, before he quickly steps back, nodding his head as he folds his hands behind his back.

You’ve done this song and dance before. You don’t ride often with Aemond but sometimes he would accompany you and Helaena whenever the fancy struck him. Sometimes servants would help the pair of you climb onto your horses. Sometimes he would. You’ve done this countless times before.

Somehow, this feels different. Maybe it’s that he’s dressed as the Warrior and you’re the Maiden. Maybe it’s that you can hear the gates slowly begin to open, hear the screams and cheers from the waiting audience of King’s Landing filter through the air. Maybe it’s how he grips your waist harder than he ever has before as he picks you up high in the air, your hands flying to steady yourself at his shoulders.

He places you on the horse, sitting you side straddle, and you stare down at him, letting go of his shoulders so you can twist one of your hands up the reins of the horse. He looks back and you know that he can see straight through you, can see the scream that is building up in your chest, buried so deep so that none of it can slip out.

Aemond lets go of your waist and you lean down, your hair falling all around you, as you lean over him, his face turning up towards yours. A poppy knocks itself loose from the breeze and he reaches up to grab it, catching it by its cut stem.

It’s golden.

In front of you, by the gates, you can see Alicent and Aegon begin to move forward, can hear the screams of the crowds reach a feverish pitch as they catch sight of the royal family, but you ignore them as you reach for the flower in Aemond’s hand. You brush his fingers as you pluck it from his grasp and for a moment, you hold it between the two of you.

It’s beautiful. More beautiful than anything has a right to be on this day.

Carefully, you lean down even more and you tuck the flower into the links of his chainmail, the yellow startling against the black. Your hand lingers for a moment and he captures it, pressing it to his mouth gently.

It’s a promise. It’s an apology. You want to laugh. You want to cry.

Finally, he lets you go, pulling away to his own silver charger, mounting it with an ease that only a warrior could have. In front of you, Daeron and Rhaenys begin to ride out and, as you turn your head slightly to watch them go, you can see the flame in Rhaenys’s lamp has been lit. As she rides through the gate, she lifts up the lamp in front of her, her arm steady and sure even as the flame flickers and sways from the canter of her horse. She’s a guiding light, wisdom and strength personified. You’re supposed to follow her.

But you can’t imagine wanting anything less.

Somewhere behind you, Helaena waits with her grandfather, her maiden cloak pinned around her neck. Somewhere ahead of you, Aegon rides with their mother, a crown that was not quite a crown placed in his silver curls.

This is it. This is where it all ends. This is where it begins.

Servants begin to gesture you to move forward and, after a moment, you shift your weight forward in the saddle and, without missing a beat, the massive charger moves forward with a shake of his mane. You glance to the side and meet Aemond’s amethyst eyes blazing in the light.

Together, you ride through the gates.

#aemond targaryen x reader #Aemond x Reader #aemond x you #i wrote this in my notes as no one has fun at a westerosi wedding #and the actual wedding hasnt even happened yet sdkflasdlfkasdf #hopefully the next chapter wont take as long im so sorry babes!!!

157 notes · View notes

loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year

Text

Just to kiss me (Part 5)

pairing: Finnick Odair x reader

(AO3 mirror)

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part 4, My Hunger Games Masterlist

summary: Life goes on. You get a message from Finnick.

warnings: some light angst, but other than that, none.

required reading: The song "We'll never have sex" by Leith Ross <;3

a/n: ....I'm gonna stop making promises I can't keep lmfao. It's exam szn rn and uni wants me dead tbh. But I promise I'll finish this fic if it kills me sooo… enjoy!

taglist (comment if you'd like to be added <3): @agent-grey-fics, @starhastoomanyfandoms

wc: 3.8k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You look perfect, you look different

I don't wonder about your indifference

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You arrive to a quiet house.

Not that it was out of the ordinary. Whilst you weren’t the type to party from dusk till dawn, arriving home after a late day at work, or a night in with Vonnie, was fairly by-the-by. You liked the routine: kicking on your slippers and closing the front door with a quiet click . Your mother, of course, nowhere to be seen. Not that you’d complain.

This morning, however, feels different. Your body burns with the aftermath of the night before; and you practically float into the house. Your heart is heavy with what’s left after Finnick’s touch - you can’t forget him whether you wanted to or not. And you didn’t want to forget, the last couple hours on replay during the journey. You feel like a teenager again - giddy with the thought of seeing him again. You had given Finnick your number, as promised. Waiting for the buzz of the comms on your wrist would be agony, you’re sure of it.

You pad through your house absentmindedly. Past the grand double staircase, through the pristine rugs and floors of a parlour not oft used, and into the kitchen. You place the bag Finnick gave you on its floor, rummaging through the cupboards. Murmurs from your mother’s office, a room just beyond the parlour, break the spell. It stops you in your tracks: the distorted mumble behind the door. Your mother’s voice is distinct but you can’t hear what she’s saying. Is there someone else? Yes, you think, a man. There’s rustling, the swish of people standing up and then you hear it: a gravelly voice.

Plutarch Heavensbee - Uncle Heavensbee - opens the door and you duck behind the counter, just in time. Your mother follows close behind him. There’s no predicting what your mother would say if she saw you like this - clearly in someone else's clothes after an eventful night.

“...and we need to move faster than anticipated.” Plutarch says. Your mother shuts the door to her office and shakes her head, seemingly frustrated.

“You know that’s not up to me.” She chews her lip - like you do when you think. “I’ve moved up the dinner, putting as many resources as I can afford into the campaign. I’ve been forced to recruit an idiot from Snow’s court, for God’s sake. I’m going as fast as I-”

“-Snow’s court?” He interrupts. “You don’t mean…?”

She brings a hand up to pause the white haired man. “...I know what it sounds like. You need to trust me.”

He nods. “I have my reservations, but I suppose-”

“We don’t have a choice.” She slaps a hand on his back, good-naturedly, and you almost keel over from your vantage point. She laughs - a genuine, hearty laugh - in the white and bronze of walls dripping in paintings. She walks him towards the door. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, old friend.”

“If anyone could do it, it’s you; Arachne.” He nods, warmly. They move out of earshot. In the distance, you hear the click of the door.

You flop against the cool counter’s side, in relief. You know better than to internalise her words, curious; but knowing better than to pry. It had become second nature: flattening, playing the fool, turning a blind eye. Better blissfully unaware than dead.

You brush yourself off, rummaging through drawers yet again. You look for something, stashed in the crevice of a drawer long ago. When you find it, you almost leap for joy - the silvered charm of a necklace heaped against the side. You clutch it in your palm and its stings, bittersweet.

~~~

You wait for a while, locked up in your room for the rest of the day. You’re restless; bouncing on the walls as you desperately try to fill the time. At first, it was the paperwork piled high on your desk - work you’d been putting off for a couple of weeks now. Steadily, you chip away at the files.

Trawling through them like the net of a fishing boat - some of it was for your own personal project, the rest were pages and pages of notes needing to be processed and uploaded. Your job was hardly exciting; preening in front of a desk for 8 hours. But, it was a job done all your own. It was the one thing you and your mother had agreed on fresh from the Academy - that you’d make your own way. Top marks, an early graduate, a brilliant academic record: you’d turned down other offers in lieu of a stunning career as a… glorified secretary. Not quite the plan, but it would do for now.

A buzz comes and you leap towards the comms long placed on your desk, out of sight. You shift in your seat to adjust your hair. If Finnick calls now, you want to look like you’ve slept a full 8 hours. Fumbling, you accept the call.

Vonnie’s face materialises on the desk in front of you. She's outside; an obnoxious hat flopping in front of her face. You recognise her background: the manicured back deck of Vonnie’s home and the buzz of her younger siblings clattering through rosebeds.

“On a scale of 1 to 10, how hungover are you?” You groan at her glee. “1 being fresh as a field of daisies, and 10 being doubled over, shitfaced-”

“I heard you the first time, Von. I’m choosing to ignore it.”

She laughs, flashing pearly white teeth. Something mischievous brewing behind her smile, your sure of it.

“How was last night, then?”

You pick at the pens on your desk. “Nothing special, I suppose.”

“...Is that all you’re gonna give me?” She’s exasperated at your nonchalance. “I’ve seen the videos! I want to know everything - who was there…”

“It was a masquerade-”

“What everyone was wearing…”

“I don’t know all the designers like you do-”

“The guy you spent the night with…”

That one catches you off guard. “T-That’s not… there wasn’t a guy … Von, c’mon-”

She tilts her head and gives you a look that says you should know better. You’d known one another for more than a decade and she can read you like a book: your facade was paper-thin and peeling, frankly. “Then where were you this morning?”

Fuck.

“I called, and no-one answered. You always answer.”

“I was… asleep?” You offer. She rolls her eyes.

“...and I’m best friends with Finnick Odair.”

You splutter. “It doesn’t… it’s not like that.”

Vonnie almost leaps out of her chair. “But something happened? There’s someone you’ve got your eye on?”

“...maybe.”

She whoops and hollers so hard it makes you laugh. She’s up on her feet, dancing on the concrete, pulling one of her brothers to join her. Their joy is infectious - melodious giggles ringing around your own room. It’s like an old nursery rhyme: some-one’s-got-a-booy-friend, some-one’s-got-a-boooy-fr-

“It’s a dream come true! God, you’ve mean-mugged every single eligible bachelor this side of Panem,” The gap-toothed giggle of her brother comes through the call and she darts out of frame.

“That’s unfair…”

“ Shut it, Val, or I’ll tell Dad you’ve been eating his-” There’s rustling on the other side as she pops back into view, flushed and panting. “D’you remember the guy you humiliated in Upper 6th?”

“He was a prick!”

“He was flirting ! That’s what people do, nowadays - they flirt.”

The Incident, as you’ve come to know it, happened a couple years ago. You were both in your last year of school, invited to your very first houseparty. Well, Vonnie had been invited - easygoing and friendly. You were like her shadow even then - sticking close to her in the pulse and thrum of the sprawling grounds. Too much money and time, you’d thought, dressed quite plainly in comparison to everyone else. Eventhough she had talked you through it on the pod there - who to look for, how to make small talk, the best places to avoid Jupe and his boneheaded antics. And it was going well, at first - you ate and laughed and drank - feeling like a normal teenager for the first time in years. Like people enjoyed your presence and didn’t shirk at you like they would in class. Like most things, the reality was much more mundane. It wasn't cruel, cold-hearted malice. They simply hadn’t noticed you were there.

Back then, in the kitchen of your classmate’s house; someone had pulled you to the side. Confident and sidling up to you with a glass of something in his hand. He stinks with the air of entitlement, the first son of such-and-such: attractive, sure, but not enough to warrant the reaction from Vonnie across the room, you think. You can barely remember the conversation; something about how good we’d look together and a clammy hand kneading at your thigh. The rest was a blur: a sharp right hook, and he’s on the floor clutching a bloody nose. You don’t regret it, honestly. You do regret the storm stoked by his asshole father, however.

“Did your mystery guy flirt? No, no. Not your MO. I bet he’s funny. Smart. He probably said something snarky and you fell head over heels for him.”

“Von-”

“You two, in the corner, whispering about how much everyone sucks, I suppose. Have you replaced me? Found someone else to talk shit with-”

“Vonnie!” She stops, eyes wide and innocent through the screen.

“If you want to shut me up, you need to give me something. Or I’ll keep going - and you know I can talk for the houses,” She threatens.

“We’re just friends, right now. I-I think.”

“...you think?”

“He’s funny, of course he is. And kind. Perceptive, as well. I like being around him.”

She swoons, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead in faux shock. “You like him. In all my years …you like him.”

You groan again, head in your hands.

It’s nice, like this. Laughing with Vonnie about boys again. Like the last 24 hours were the plot of some soap you’d watch on the network when you were younger. She has a knack for this sort of thing; putting you at ease.

~~~

The first message from Finnick comes at work. You spend the first half of the day convincing yourself it doesn’t bother you; that you’re not at the beck and call of the chime of your comms. Not that you had many suitors vying for your attention, but there had been a few too many false alarms you'd jumped at.

You're dropped off at Hadrian's offices; buzzed into the building by the Peacekeepers keeping guard by its entrance.

"Mornin' Miss." You're greeted as you step through the doors, handing your keycard through the gaps of the glass by a desk.

"Good morning, Dill." You nod as they scan it through. Dill, beaming in a crisp grey jumpsuit (standard issue), was the first person you met when you started the job 6 months ago. They were the closest thing you had to a friend in here - warm and kind as they took you around the office. You were quick on your feet but the unexpectedly fast-paced nature of the council had caused you to stumble, at first.

"Didn't realise you were at the party."

You shrug.

"I saw the pictures. How'd you get in?"

"Hadrian invited me personally."

Handing back your pass, they snigger at your theatrics. "Must've lost my invite, then."

"Such a shame, Dill. You missed quite the party." Laughing over your shoulder, you tap your nose as you walk away.

Your cubicle is simple, stationed at the mouth of Hadrian's personal chambers. He wasn't here yet, of course; oft preferring a 'graduated start to the day' . The speech he gave you on your first day sounded just as ridiculous as it did in the subsequent months: nattering on about responsibility and duty whilst he twiddled his thumbs for the best part of a couple hours. On the other hand, you were privy to his every move: every meeting, every phone call. On paper, you were responsible for data processing and handling: intending to overhaul his systems and software, like you had gone to the Academy for. In reality, you waited on his every whim and whine. A glorified secretary with the meagre wage to match.

You were one of the lucky ones. As District 2's overseer, Councillor Hadrian had the workforce to match - most employed as security, button-pushers, or data entry. The man himself had the temperament of a spoiled cat, fancying himself a general, a commander, Snow's right hand man. A fool failing upwards, you thought.

You perch at your desk, adjusting the tight collar at your neck. Your employer had strict standards and you were dressed as such: grey pencil skirt down past your knees, a starchy blouse with a straight collar and modestly heeled pumps. You itch at your stockings and stew at the screen, tapping away.

When a buzz comes at your wrist you don't think anything of it. It's probably Vonnie, with a message about her dress; or your mother, stark and cryptid about her whereabouts. Another buzz comes. And another. And another. You tap at your comms and almost jump at messages.

From: unknown

hey!

From: unknown

think u forgot to return my sweater :p

From: unknown

this is finnick btw

From: unknown

not some creep or anything

Sent: You

You probably should have opened with that :)

From: unknown

probably

From: unknown

what r u doing rn?

Sent: You

I'm at work, haha.

From: unknown

the fancy office one, then

From: unknown

shit. is this a bad time?

It makes you giggle, imagining Finnick on his comms somewhere. You can hear it in his voice: teasing, lilting. You peep out from your desk, hands darting to respond.

Sent: You

I’m doing a whole lot of nothing right now.

Sent: You

So no, not really.

From: unknown

slacking already…its pretty early, no?

Sent: You

It’s mostly fine…

From: unknown

mostly?

Sent: You

Nothing’s exploded just yet.

There’s a rapping on the floor from the corridor over, which makes your head snap up. Hadrian, sharp and lithe, grey donned chin first into the room. You tuck away your comms, scrambling for his itinerary on the pad in front of you. He knocks on the lip of your desk.

“Anybody home?” His face curls into a grin: oozing pomp and ego.

You force a smile, its edges terse and tight. You stand, tapping at the screen that's made its home in the crook of your elbow. “You’ve got a meeting this morning about arrangements for this years’ reaping, I’ve got the minutes for your call with Elland and-”

He gives you a wave as he makes towards his office. “I need you to push it back a couple of hours, I’ve got other… uh… business to attend to. And I needed those minutes yesterday, the situation’s changed: we need to double peacekeeper presence in 8-”

“With what money?” You scoff. He pauses, hand wavering over the handle of an ornate wooden door. It’s heavy, and takes up the span of half the room - gilded and embossed with glossy script. He cranes his head towards you like you’ve asked him to compete in the games, instead.

“With t-the… we can find money. Move things around.” He strides through the doors into a plush office. "It's what I pay you for. And I expect a revised budget by the end of the day."

He closes the door in your face and you scowl at the wood. Your skin crawls with the thought of the minutes you'd have to rewrite, the hours you'd need to spend sifting through the accounts. Move things around? On whose authority? The new budget would have to be approved by Snow, and there'd be questions, not to mention the tight turnaround-

With a deep sigh, you take a breath and unclench your jaw. You take a seat at your desk: Finnick's last message blaring at the band of your comms.

From: unknown

famous last words, love

~~~

It sets the tone for the rest of the day, you think. You barely get a minute to yourself, putting out fires left and right. There's a stack of paperwork on your desk that grows and grows in your absence; it peers at you like a small mountain whenever you walk past, guilty.

You send Finnick small messages here and there; the broken bits of a conversation spread between any spare moment. That ends up being a handful of times within a couple of hours; even less as you rush to finish a budget plan you've been expected to pull out of your ass. He makes you laugh. Between the haze of exhaustion and anger you find yourself wandering in and out of; it's a much needed break from your own head. He stops you from clattering about like the tinny ricochet of a pinball. You're convinced; if you shook your head around, it would rattle.

But Finnick is there, grounded and steady, to stop you from floating away.

You don't expect it, when it comes. Later at night, after you've rubbed your sore feet and propped them up in the comfort of your own home. Swallowed by blankets and the comforter; plush and warm and swaddled like a newborn. Almost dozing off as you hear the dull buzz of your comms. A call. From Finnick.

You don't hesitate to accept. It's voice only, and he speaks clear and calm between the walls of your bedroom.

"Hey,"

"Hi." Your own voice is heavy with sleep, but it feels good to hear him.

"This isn't a bad time, I hope? I know you were busy with work and everything-"

"God, no. Like I said before, a whole lot of nothing."

"Good." He sighs. "I-I mean not good , per se, I just didn't know if you wanted to talk or-"

You scrunch your brow. He can't see you of course, but the way he's stumbling with his words, it's almost like he's… "Are you nervous, Finnick?"

"No." A pause. "Maybe… a little. Just a bit."

You giggle. "Why? I don't bite."

"...this isn't weird? Not too much, too soon?"

"I don't know what it's like where you're from. But around here, if you can believe it, friends call each other. They catch up over the phone. It's allowed." You say.

"Fuck, okay. Okay," You might be going crazy, but you think you can hear him smile. "Then, as your friend, I don't believe you. For the record."

"What did I say?" You laugh.

"That you did nothing all day. Don't believe it."

"Slanderous accusations, Mr Odair. Where's your proof?"

"Well… the first is that you barely responded to me all day-"

"Maybe you were boring me, Finn."

"Highly unlikely." He waves it off. "I was doing all the work, by the way: riveting conversation - provoking, really trying to make you think -"

"With such stunners as: 'Did you miss me yesterday?' and 'I'm so hungry I could eat a horse' -"

"-absolutely gripping stuff, like I said. But that's not the point. The point is that you gave me nothing to work with. One word answers: brief, snarky - quite discouraging, honestly. And the only possible explanation is…"

"...is?"

"You were swamped at work." He seems pleased with his conclusion. "Up to your neck in paperwork, probably, putting out fires left and right. And, stop me if I'm wrong, left to clean up Hadrian's mess-"

"-that's all?"

"Of course not. My second piece of evidence, ladies and gentleman, is: Hadrian's a prick. A self-righteous, pompous fuck who doesn't know up from down. There's no way he's got someone a-as competent and brilliant as you are, and not putting you to work."

You hum into your blankets, feeling your face flood with warmth.

"And taking you for granted, stealing your ideas, etcetera, etcetera…"

"...but that's more implied." You finish for him.

"Exactly. The third thing, the really important third thing, is… that you sound… tired."

Your eyebrows shoot up. "I sound tired?"

"I've got a hunch." He sounds more sincere. "You okay?"

His gentleness catches you off guard. You're stumbling over your own words when you finally manage: "Y-Yeah. Just had a long day, s'all."

"You can talk about it, if you need to let off some steam."

"Not… not today. But thank you." You sink deeper into the covers. "What did you get up to, then?"

"Not… much."

You squint. "Don't believe you."

"Wasn't very eventful, I promise." He clicks his tongue absentmindedly. "I just helped out Mags, not much else. "

"Mags?" It sounds familiar, but you can't quite place the name.

"She's, w-well, she was my mentor." In the games was silent, implied. "We went over strategies and then I helped move some furniture. Fixing things up, doing what needed doing."

He didn't know where to put his hands all day. Restless, unable to keep still.

"Like what?"

"It's boring stuff, you don't want to hear it - trust me."

"Don't be stupid, I'm curious. Didn't take you for a handyman."

"Haha. It wasn't like that, anyway. She had these rips in her curtains, made from a while back. I spent most of my afternoon sewing them back together."

"...you can sew?"

"Of course I can sew. Needlework, crochet, knitting. It's like tying a knot on a fishing hook; or making nets."

It's like breathing, you're sure of it. As simple as walking up and down stairs for him. Skills that stay with him well into adulthood; that outlines every step even this far from the sea. Rich with community and stories, and you envy him. In your house with stark white walls, you envy him.

"I'm not really good with my hands - can't sew or anything to save my life."

"I could teach you."

"....really?"

"Only if you want. But we'd start off slow; maybe some knots first, and then simple weaving patterns," You can hear the gears turn in his head. He's completely serious and the thought makes you dizzy, for some reason.

"You don't have to, you know." You say, quietly.

"I want to. It'll be fun, give me something to do instead of sitting around all day."

"Fun? That's one way to phrase a couple of hours with me." You laugh.

"What does that mean?" His tone makes your voice die in your throat.

"Just," you chew your lip. "A joke, mostly. I know I'm not the easiest to be around. So you don't have to… pretend or anything."

He doesn't speak for a bit. You check to see if he's still there, your only indication light breathing in the background.

"I know what it's like to pretend, but this isn't…"

There's rustling, the creak and bustle of something, like he's sitting up.

"Fuck… I wanted to see you again. I want to spend time with you. I mean it."

Soft, you whisper. "Okay."

Shakily, he repeats it: like a chant, a prayer, a spell.

"I mean it ."

#finnick odair #finnick x reader #finnick x capitol!reader #finnick x y/n #the hunger games #the hunger games fic #angst #slow burn #Spotify #thg #thg x reader #kat_writes😼#hurt/comfort

132 notes · View notes

gloomyswritings · 9 months

Text

the ties that bind | joshua rosfield x fem!reader

chapter I - the beginning

Read this instead story on hiatus

warnings : none

note : this story will have nsfw content at some point. story will have spoilers for the game and the game lore will be changed some as to fit the story i want for the reader. the reader will have some traits i give them just for the sake of making the story flow better (ex: eye color, hair length, etc). please ignore spelling and grammar mistakes i’ll at some point probably fix it all. this is a slow burn fan fic

◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦

Mornings were always dreaded by you, it meant that you had to get dressed and attend the boring classes that royals were forced to. Etiquette, politics, foreign affairs, literature, and the most dreaded mathematics. But today was different you’d be taking a break from your usual routine and instead you’d be going to Rosaria with parents. It was on the pretense of it being for solely political matters but of course you’d be taking advantage of it fully being able to see your most bestest of friends—Joshua Rosfield. Oh, and of course there was Clive and Jill there also but then we’re just your friends no one had the bond you and the Phoenix shared. It didn’t take long before the maids fluttered in quickly pulling you out of your soft warm bed.

“Lady _____, must you sleep so crazily? I had braided your hair to perfection last night and now your hair looks like a wild chocobos nest!” The middle aged maid scolded as she began to run a brush through your tangled hair. Wincing as the brush got caught on a knot you whined, “Miss Tatiana you’re being too rough!” You cried but the maid known as Tatiana ignored your pleas. “You’ve always had the wildest of hairs ever since you were a baby, so you should be used to it by now.” She clicked her tongue. Finally after some more pain you were relieved from the torment of having your hair brushed, “You need to look presentable for the Rosfields _____.” Tatiana said as she finished your pigtail braids tying a dainty white ribbon to the ends. Jumping out of her grasp you spun on your heel facing her, “It’s a three day wagon ride anyways! My hair well look like a mess by tonight.” You said matter of factly a proud smirk playing your plump lips. But the greying maid ignored you as she began to pull out a dress from a wardrobe, “Come child put this on.” She said motioning you with her hands to come to her.

Finally you were dressed in a simple yet elegant pale pink dress that fell a few inches below your knees paired with leather boots it was time to go find your parents. Tatiana waving you off so she could finish packing for the trip. Humming contently as you walked down the halls searching for your parents. “Excuse me, have you seen me father and mother ?” You asked a branded man. “O-oh yes Lady _____, they are outside in the courtyard!” The nervous branded man said. You never understood why branded acted so scared of you. Surely you weren’t that mean or ugly, right? You nodded a frown replacing your smile, “Alrighty thanks! Also I don’t believe I’ve seen you around before. What’s your name?” You asked curiously. The man shifted uncomfortably his eyes darting across the corridor as knights watched him closely from afar though you were oblivious to it all. “It’s..it’s Da-“ but before he could answer you shouting was heard from down the hall.

Your mother’s screeching echoed through the corridor, “_____ get here this instant!” She stormed towards you placing a strong grip on your arm as she yanked you away from the branded man, “And you why are you just standing around! Go you have a job to do!” She shouted at the branded who quickly scurried away bowing and apologizing the whole time. Your mother’s grasp was tight and you let out a cry, “Mummy stop you’re hurtin me!” You whimpered pulling away from her grip. Your mother turned to face you a look of fear on her face, “He didn’t hurt you right or say anything to upset you?” She asked leaning down to wipe the corners of your watery eyes. Her intense amber eyes stared into yours thin black brows knitted together in concern. Shaking your head you pushed her hands from your face, “I’m okay mum, I was jus askin him his name and where you two were. Please don’t punish him he didn’t do nothin’.” You pleaded with your mother. She sighed standing up, “Nothing will happen to him. But you shouldn’t speak to bearers dear it looks bad.” She scolded you half heartedly. But why was it bad weren’t they just people also?

~•••~

You laid your head against the glass window of the carriage, pale grey eyes staring absentmindedly out the window eyelids heavy due to boredom. You hated road trips and wished you could just teleport to Rosaria. traveling from the Crystalline Dominion all the way to the other side of Storm was boring all the scenery looked the same, the random Imperial checkpoints the caravan would be forced to stop at it was boring. How much longer was it until you’d arrive? Until you could see your dear friends. Then without notice the carriage abruptly stopped, your head bouncing off the window. Wincing you rubbed your temple your mother already quickly wrapping her arms around you, “My dear are you okay?” She asked. Reaching over she slid down the window sticking her head out, “You bearer, conjure some ice for me.” She commanded snapping her fingers. “Yes Lady Marianne!” the bearer soldier said quickly conjuring a small shard of ice and handing it to your mother. She placed the ice against your temple, the sudden coldness sending a shiver down your spine she replaced her hand with yours telling you to hold it in place and stay put while she investigated.

Muffled talking was all you heard, you looked out the window once again looking at the scenery. Huh this was a knew route…you thought to yourself. Curiosity took ahold of you as you slid the carriage door open, your bare feet hitting the rough gravel road. Turning your attention towards your mother and father talking at the front of the caravan you then noticed there seemed to some hold up. “…I don’t care that a carriage was overturned were already a day behind let’s move on. Leave some soldiers with them and we get a move on.” Your mother said obviously annoyed at whatever had happened up ahead. Your father smiled rubbing the back of his head as he took on your mother’s wrath, “My dear Marianne we can’t do that…” you stopped listening at that point uninterested in their banter. It seemed like you’d be here for some time so you might as well walk around for a bit, you wouldn’t wander far. Grabbing you boots with one hand you used your feet to slip the shoes on your hand still grasping the slowly melting ice shard. Glancing around you made sure now one was looking before you trotted off just barely out of sight of the caravan.

You sang quietly to yourself as you rummaged through the foliage near a riverbank. You could still faintly hear chattering and cooing from the chocobos from the caravan so you weren’t too far. The ice had completely melted now leaving your hands wet but you didn’t mind as you plucked a few wildflowers from the ground. It was then something caught your eye from further down the riverbank, a shiny object glistening in the sun. Quickly you rushed towards the object, paying no mind to the lingering danger just beyond the brush. “Ah ha!” You mumbled under your breath as you came upon the shiny object. It looked as if it was something from the Ancients whatever it was you were pleased quickly shoving it in your pocket. Joshua is going to be so jealous! You thought to yourself a content smile playing on your lips. As you turned around to make your way back to the caravan before anyone noticed you heard a twig snap catching your attention. Goosebumps littered your skin as you froze in place. “Hello?” You called out quietly scanning the tree line. A primal like fear overtook your senses but before you could run away a wild lone hound raced out from the tree line making its way towards you. A scream left your mouth just as the hound pounced on your swiping it paw across your cheek but just as quick as the hound jumped on you it was thrown off of you.

“______! Are you okay?!” You heard your father shout as he finished off the hound he rushed towards you dropping his sword by his side as he wrapped his arms around you. “Fuck ______ your face!” He grimaced pulling a handkerchief out of shirt pocket dabbing your face. It was then you felt the stinging sensation and then warm liquid run down your cheek. This truly was an unlucky trip for you.

next chapter ->

70 notes · View notes

prettyinpurplelights · 1 year

Text

II.

You stood outside the cinema nervous, as you waited for your date. You’d had to lie to your parents about your plans, there was no way they’d let you leave the house if you told them what you were really doing. You’d told them you were meeting up with your best friend, Mia to hang out, instead of going on your first date with Julian, a boy from your physics class that had asked you out earlier in the week. The two of you had kissed previously at a friend’s party a few weeks ago, it was a brief and short kiss, your first kiss actually, but you’d felt a small flutter of butterflies in your stomach, something you’d only felt when you were around one particular person, so instead of closing yourself off to Julian, you’d accepted his invitation to the local cinema; you owed it to yourself to explore something new with someone else, someone who actually wanted you. You couldn’t wait for Kylian forever, he was barely even here anymore anyways.

You rubbed your hands together, shivering slightly in the bone-chilling early-March wind as you continued to wait for Julian. It had been 45 minutes after the time you’d agreed to meet, and you gave it another 15 minutes before giving up. You felt stupid, and heartbroken as yet another boy had ultimately rejected you.

Am I that repulsive? you were thinking as you walked away from the cinema, back towards your house. You were so deep in your thoughts, you didn’t hear your name being called from behind you.

“Y/N! Stop, please!” You turned around to see Julian running towards you. He gaze fell to his feet he got closer to you.

“Look, Julian, you’re the one that asked me out. I don’t know if you did it out of pity, or whatever, but I’m not going to play your games-“

“No, no Y/N it’s not like that.” He looked up and you noticed a cut on lip, dried blood around his nose and a nasty purple bruise beginning to form around his left eye.

“Oh my god, Julian what happened? Are you okay?”

“Look, I like you okay? I really do, but…I don’t think I’m right for you. Sorry Y/N.”

“You don’t think you’re right for me?” You echoed, and he gulped, his eyes darting around nervously, as though someone was watching him.

“Y/N, I’m sorry okay, but I can’t date you.” He blurted out, but there was no emotion in in voice, almost as though someone was forcing him to say these words.

“Why? Julian who did this to you?” He shook his head as he started to walk backwards in the direction he came in, and with the way he looked at you, it clicked, you knew exactly what happened and who had hurt him like that.

“My brother.” And his eyes widened. He didn’t have to confirm it with his mouth, you had your answer right there.

“He hurt you right? And told you to leave me alone?” You were growing angrier with each word that left your mouth, practically seething with fury by the time you finished your sentence.

Julian shook his head again. “No, no not him-“

“Julian, I’m so sorry this happened to you. I’m really really sorry. I will deal with my brother. I’m so sorry.” You apologised, before turning around, practically marching down the road towards your house. It was a 10 minute walk, and within that time, you’d come up with 500 ways of torturing your brother. How dare he mess with your life like that, hurt someone who only wanted to take you out on a date, acting as if the guy had slept with you or something. And even if you’d had sex with Julian, it was absolutely none of Elliot’s business. You reached boiling point by the time you opened your front door and stormed into the living room, ready to scorch the hell out of Elliot when you got your hands on him. Your mom was lying on the couch, face buried in a book as the radio played softly in the background.

“Mama, where’s Elliot?”

“Elliot? He’s next door. Fayza called him over because-“

You didn’t stay to hear the rest of your mother’s sentence as you made your way over to the house you could basically call your second home, collecting yourself briefly before knocking on the door calmly.

Fayza answered the door, smiling as she greeted you.

“Hi auntie,” You said as she released you from her hug. “My mom said Elliot is here?”

“Yeah, he’s up in Kylian’s room.” She opened her mouth to say more but you stopped her, apologising for interrupting her sentence.

“Sorry auntie, I really have to ask him something, it’s urgent, but I promise, I’ll come down and chat after.” You quickly removed your shoes and rushed up the stairs towards highest point in the house, Kylian had the attic room. You saw your brother, sat on Kylian’s bed, scrolling through his phone when you entered the room and closed the door behind you.

“You fucking dick!” You yelled, walking over to him and slapping him, your hand hitting his right cheek. You were glad to be in Kylian’s room, his was in the farthest corner of the house so it was very unlikely anyone could hear you.

“Elliot how could you! How dare you!”

“Owww Y/N, what the hell?” He stands up from the bed, holding onto his cheek.

“You have no right Elliot! Telling Julian to stay away from me? I am 17! I can date whoever I want!”

“You sure mum and dad would agree with that?”

“Screw you. You’re such an asshole.” You say on the computer chair at Kylian’s desk, and sighed, trying to calm yourself down before you strangled your only brother. “You’re apologising to Julian when school starts again Monday morning.”

“The hell I am. I’m not apologising to that dickhead for protecting my sister.”

“First of all, I don’t need your protection, I am 17, not 7. And secondly, yes you are. Did you see what you did to his face? That’s not cool El.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh cut the bullshit Elliot. Who else could’ve given him a black eye and busted his lip? Do I have another over-protective brother I don’t know about?”

“It wasn’t Elliot.” You heard the voice before you saw its owner and you almost fell out of the chair, flat onto your face when you finally laid your eyes on him. You didn’t even register what he said out of shock, he was the last person you expected to be in front of you right now. He looked different, taller, more manly and adult-like.

Good. He looked good.

“Kylian?? You’re back?” You asked, hoping you didn’t sound over-excited.

“Yeah, um, I got a week off, and I came back to surprise my parents.”

“Bro…” Elliot started, noticing it first, pointing to Kylian’s fist. He was currently stood infront of the door to his bedroom, holding a bloodied tissue to his nose, and his knuckles were bright red. “You went back to Julian after I left?”

“What?” You shook your head, trying to understand what was going on. “What do you mean went back?”

“Kylian got home, just after you had already left to meet Mia. Anyways, I told Kyks you were going to watch a movie with Mia so we were going to come and meet the two of you. I texted to see where you guys were at and she texted me back saying you were meeting up with Julian so I got pissed off and went to the skate park where Julian chills with his friends with Kylian and I told him to leave you alone or else. I swear that’s all I did.” He raised his hand in surrender. “Mom then called me about getting her something from the store for dinner and Kylian said he’d just meet me back at the house. This idiot must’ve gone back to see Julian.”

“Gee, you didn’t leave out any details huh? Thanks for outing me, bro.” Kylian rolled his eyes.

“I think your bleeding nose already did that for you man.” Elliot replied, smirking.

“Wait..wait.” You turned to face Kylian. “So you went back and what? Beat the fuck out of him? Someone likes me and your first thought is to beat the fuck out of them?” You felt the anger you’d pushed away start to simmer again, your hands were shaking as you stared at him.

“Y/N…”

“Y/N…” Kylian and Elliot said simultaneously and you raised your hand to silence them.

“Elliot, you’ve done enough, leave, I need to talk to Kylian. NOW.”

“Bro…she’s really pissed. She slapped me, good luck.” Elliot said to Kylian as he patted his shoulders and slid past him, down the stairs and out of sight. Kylian shut the door and walked further into the room, holding the bloodied tissue in his hand as he approached you.

“It’s good to see you Y/N.”

“Don’t. Don’t do that.”

He stopped, about a metre from you, but his eyes didn’t leave yours as he spoke.

“Look. I’m not going to apologise for beating that little shit. And I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

“You’re not my dad or my brother Kylian!”

“Yes, I’m not, but that’s not going to stop me from looking out for you regardless, you’re my best friend.”

“I’m not even sure you fit that description anymore. We don’t speak Ky, you don’t call, you don’t text.”

“I’ve been busy-“

“Yeah, I know!” You raised your arms and laughed. “We all know! Kylian Mbappe, the football superstar! Is that why you think you have some sort of right to go round punching people in the face? Because you’re some big shot now? You’re better than the rest of us still left in Bondy?”

“Y/N, that’s not fair.”

“FAIR?? You want to talk about being fair?? You show up out of no where and ruin my chances with a nice guy who actually likes me and you want to say I’m not being fair?”

“You weren’t there Y/N! You didn’t hear what he was saying, the way he was talking about you, and your body, and your-“

“Oh because God forbid somebody finds me attractive! Someone thinks I’m worth looking at, worth kissing-“

“Wait, you kissed?”

“Yes Kylian, we kissed. And I liked it. I liked it a lot. And now I wish I had let him do more because God knows he’s never coming near me, even with a ten foot pole now.” You noticed his jaw clench, his hands curling into fists at his side. You took a few steps closer to him, your voice was barely above a whisper as you were merely inches apart now.

“Maybe I should’ve let him touch me a little bit more, let his hands roam a little bit lower-“

“Y/N, that’s not funny.” He said through gritted teeth, the fists his hands were forming into growing tighter. His brows were furrowed, several frown lines strewn across his forehead. He was absolutely fuming.

“That’s the thing Kyky, I’m not joking.” You whispered as his nostrils flared.

“You’re not touching him ever again Y/N.”

“I will if I want to. And you wanna know why?” You raised your finger to his chest, pressing it into him with every word that came out of your mouth, as though you were punctuating them. “You. Don’t. Get. To. Decide. That. For. Me.”

“So what? You’re just going to spread your legs for that idiot?” He seethed, unable to control the words that came tumbling out of his mouth. He didn’t want to hurt you, he’d never ever want to hurt you, but the words were out there now, he couldn’t take them back. He heard you gasp, taking in a sharp breath and he immediately regretted what he had said. He opened his mouth to say something, apologise, but you beat him to it, the sadness that he had momentarily seen in your eyes transform to a fiery, burning rage.

“Fuck you Kylian! FUCK YOU!” You stepped back again, your whole body was now shaking with anger, your voice back at its elevated volume. You had no other choice but to yell, let everything out through this emotion or else you would cry.

“HE’S NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU Y/N!” He shouted back, the both of you furious with the other. You don’t think there’s ever been a moment in your friendship when things have been this bad between you.

“How would you know? How the fuck would you know that he’s not good enough for me? You’re never here! You haven’t been here for MONTHS!”

“He doesn’t care about you! Not like-“

“Not like what? Like you do? Don’t make me laugh Kylian, because trust me, I’m not in the fucking mood. You don’t care about me! You only care that I sit here, pinning after you like some lovesick puppy with a school girl crush. Well, I’m not 11 anymore, I can’t stay stuck here in the exact same spot, waiting for you to notice me, while you’re out there doing God knows what with God knows who. You’re living your life, let me do the same. I want to move on with mine.”

“Y/N-“ He reached out for you as you neared to door to leave the room, but you quickly snatched your hand out of his grasp before he could, the other one hovering over the handle as you turned to speak to him one more time.

“Stay out of my business Ky, or I swear, I will cut you out of my life. Completely.”

With that, you slammed the door behind you, leaving Kylian completely alone with his thoughts and your revelation that you had had a crush on him all this while, and been entirely oblivious to the fact he had also felt the same. You both knew you didn’t mean the harsh words you just said to each other, but in that moment, your emotions as high as they were, neither of you were too sure of that anymore.

You didn’t talk to Kylian for the rest of the week after that. You had planned to ignore him the whole time he was home, you’d even blocked his number so you wouldn’t see all the numerous calls he was making, but his grandmother had organised a big meal in honour of him before he went back to Monaco and unfortunately for you, you could never say no to her. Or her incredible food. So that’s how you find yourself next to Kylian at the dining table. You knew you couldn’t ignore him in front of everyone, both your families knew how close you were, it would be odd to them if you weren’t talking and you didn’t want to answer any questions as to why because that could lead back to Julian, whom your parents had no idea about and you wanted it to stay that way. So you instead opted to simply forget what had happened, neither of you said a word about your argument in his bedroom, rather preferring to just fall back into your natural rhythm with each other than acknowledge the hurtful words you’d both said to each other earlier in the week.

“I missed you gummy.” He whispered in your ear earlier, after you’d taken your seat by him at the table. Your eyes met, and you felt yourself already falling for him all over again. “I came back for you, more than anyone else.”

You hated the way your body reacted to his voice and his words, you hated the way all he had to do was smile that lopsided grin and flash his dimples and you were putty in his hands, you hated the way you really couldn’t hate him, but most of all you hated yourself, for still holding a torch for him, your heart still crying out for him after all these years of nothing back from him.

“I missed you too Kyky.” He reached down to take your hand and squeezed it, and grinned.

And that was that. It was simple with Kylian, not fighting with him was easier than fighting with him; it wasn’t long before you were laughing and joking with him again, his arm around your shoulder where it always was when you were sat next to him, the both of you choosing to totally turn a blind eye to the massive elephant in the room.

———

Again lemme know ur thoughts <33

Link to main post

#kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian mbappe fic #kylian mbappe fluff #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe x you #mbappe fic #mbappe x reader #football fanfic #footballer x reader #kylian mbappe imagine #mbappe fanfic #mbappe imagine #mbappe #kylian mbappé #mbappé #football imagine #kylian imagines

211 notes · View notes

hamofjustice · 11 months

Text

I don't want to just painstakingly copypaste my triple-layered self-QRT thread about it on Twitter and any other ones floating around but

I am very emotionally invested in seeing Penny, Arven, and (personally) especially Nemona again in the Scarlet/Violet DLC, after GF followed up the best 3 hours of Pokemon game story ever by having to abruptly cut it off the second these lonely kids finish opening up to you and say you can hang out with them anytime. Which you never do. It was some pretty painful whiplash, and I was sure the main point of the DLC was to relieve that, especially when their arcs don't seem quite complete yet. Very clever, evil marketing! But uh... well... about that...

It is very worrying that aside from a little "the story so far" montage, they have not been seen or mentioned in promotional material/footage whatsoever. Y'know, DLC for the game that's about how the real treasure was the friends you found along the way (literally, in Nemona's case), and even if your family and support systems fail you, you still have each other? Written from the heart by someone who said Arven's story is inspired by their own life? With the sappy Ed Sheeran song about reaching out for connection with others, that also seems to be named after Team Star? The game where one of the features the devs seemed most proud of was going on adventures and into boss fights with 3 of your friends? The game that ended with a fully functional and quite immersive bonding adventure with these characters you'd gotten to know and care about, that basically everyone thought was the best part of the game by a mile, and were left wishing the whole game was like that?

Yeah, I (and everyone else) have been driving around alone in that game for 8 months ever since finishing that story. 8 months of minor updates with a ton of the beloved characters functionally or literally gone, while we go around doing online stuff with nothing else to do in the world, with a single player postgame more barren than we had on Game Boy Color (thank god for mints and bottle caps though). I'm left just... wanting to go back to the way things were before I beat the game. Not to be overly dramatic, but this world I supposedly saved feels like one I failed to save. And I'm getting really frustrated. (The framerate hasn't gotten any better, either, but this isn't about that.)

It's like Game Freak (or whoever forced this thing out a year early, or both) never expected you to boot the game up again once you got bored of the Ace Academy Tournament, which the game acts like is the entire total of what you could want from being friends and "rivals for life" with your squad (I mean I'm the sicko that loves Tera Raids, so I'm not that bored, but still). It makes a bunch of implications that your adventure is just beginning, and then it totally just... isn't. Why is the E4 building closed? Why do you only rematch the gyms once? And most of all, for me personally: Why did we get access to our friends' rooms if there's nothing to do or talk about there? (Besides look for character study clues, which they have lots of)

All they could come up with when asked to write a newsletter email about what you can still do in S/V and why you should still be playing it was Raids. That was it. Remember when you had an endless challenge in the Tower/Maison that you could optionally take on with a bunch of story characters as your partners instead of alone, that motivated you to keep getting stronger bit by bit? Remember rematching gym leaders multiple times and watching their teams grow and evolve each time? Yeah, there's none of that here, because that would take more than a week to implement. If you want friends and you want battles, you'll have to do it yourself online now. They're not allocating any budget for that.

Your rival for life, who's so excited you're on her level now, who seems to have the passion and skill to be the your Battle Tower gameplay loop by herself if she wanted to, who battles you for hours offscreen with multiple teams, whose whole character arc is that she finally has someone she can do this with... is fully static, with one kinda mediocre team that never grows or changes. She can't keep up with you and doesn't know what items or EVs are. You have to get lucky to even see her at all. She is no more your rival than your Home Ec teacher is (no offense Saguaro, you're cool too). I think it's really, really sad.

I'm left nostalgic and pining to go back, having to cope through fanfic because my character can't spend the day with - or even so much as take a new trainer card photo with - the girl who said they might be her greatest treasure, without resetting my save, because she and the others are standing somewhere that the camera and internet features are both disabled.

Like, legitimately, I want to keep being friends with these kids the way we were before, and have the ability to do post-game stuff with them, like being able to go out and adventure together whenever in some basic, non-story capacity, or just, I don't know, maybe give them more than one line of dialogue in their rooms? I don't want a new region or new characters. Not yet, anyway.

I thought I was preordering the continuation of their story and rewarding the company for making me care about Pokemon so much again.

But, uh... I'm really worried that the people who own these characters do not care. And as I said on the trailer's comments before they turned them off (lol), I'll be pissed enough to not buy any more games if I'm right, and we're forced to abandon these poor kids. At the very least, it's some pretty garbage marketing to leave the possibility of that up in the air. If nothing else, that is a frustration that I'm going to keep talking about for a while, even if it ends up being fine.

I thought it was impossible, and I was being silly. Why not have our friends in cute new outfits as promo art when the DLC was first announced, and all they had was promo art? Seems like an easy slam dunk. Oh, they didn't yet? Well, I'm sure it'll happen eventually.

And then they weren't in the trailer either, months later. Are they trying to sell us on it or not?

The whole reason I want the DLCs. Still not a single word acknowledging them, just that little opening montage. Still no hints of how the DLCs have anything to do with Area Zero's ongoing story, either. How is a sea turtle linked with a landlocked crater?

So like... At this point I have to assume both DLCs start with you making your friends cry as they're left alone again, arbitrarily excluded from events they're more than qualified to be invited to, to make room for some new dweebs we don't need, who won't be given nearly enough time to be as compelling as Nemona, Arven, and Penny were, because that makes the trailer look more like a new game, and that's the only way they know how to advertise. More. New. Buy. Consume. Throw away. Buy. Consume. Throw away. I should assume this so that whatever we get can't be worse.

But they're probably not (self-aware enough / allowed / both) to write that. Your lonely / orphaned / anime-binging friends might just cheer you on for getting to go do something cool like being forced to train a new legendary because the story said so, then go back to being statues with as much relevance to your life as an NPC in a third story apartment that tells you what a hold item is.

Can't I just live in Paldea with my friends, in the version of the game we would have gotten if it was finished, instead of being pulled into these adventures for the sake of looking good in a trailer? (which it doesn't btw lol) It's not an unrealistic thing to want when that's what it briefly was, and I was so excited that it would keep being that I've been thinking about it this entire time.

...

I hope I'm wrong about all this, and next year I can look back on this post, happy that the DLC did actually allow us to continue to take care of these characters, conclude Area Zero's mysteries in a satisfying way, fix up some technical issues, let us relive some things that are currently once-only (including letting us see that photo album our character made but we had to screenshot ourselves), and make it fun to keep playing for years afterward, and let that be the model for games going forward, but uh...

They really are not showing me anything I care about in the game I desperately want to care about, that I saw - and wanted to defend - the heart in, despite the circumstances it was produced under, and that really worries and frustrates me. The surprisingly many great things about this game got my hopes up for an awesome postgame full of warm fuzzy feelings and cool things to do 8 months ago that just didn't deliver, and now, I'm not sure if they'll even let me pay for one, at this rate, because they're not advertising one.

Just throw us a scrap. If whoever's in charge here stops caring about this story, I won't care about the next one.

Anyone else feeling this?

54 notes · View notes