#it’s complicated but he’s like a tired older brother

[chloesimaginationthings]

So why is Vanny so determined to get on Michael's good side?

It’s mostly because every one on one interactions they’ve had so far has been negative pff

#ask reply #there’s more to it too #I think Vanny in some part feels bad for Michael #She knows him and his family through video games and whatever Glitchtrap put in her head #so in a sense she has a need to make it up to him #She’s just really bad at it BAHA #which isn’t entirely her fault #I consider them almost a boss and worker dynamic #one day Vanny will have a good interaction with Michael 🙏🏾 #how does Michael feel about Vanny? #it’s complicated but he’s like a tired older brother

[bohbee]

Genshin characters reaction when someone's creeping you out

Part 2

Part 1

Masterlist

Characters: Zhongli, Xiao, Kaeya, Diluc. Ayato

Warnings: Creeps, Creeps touching you, sexual connotations [Diluc, Zhongli] Violence [Xiao], empty threats [kaeya]

Notes: if they're immortal you're immortal!!

Ayato

Your relationship with Ayato hasn't been released yet. People did know he had proposed to a person, though. This allowed both of you to complete your moving process without people bombarding you. You walked just outside of Kamisato Manor after you had just finished emptying your old house. Now, it was time for relaxation. Or so you thought.

Being such a renowned family meant people were always waiting outside of the building, ready to ask questions. They were often moved by the guards, but a few stragglers would always stay in place. You walked along a slightly glowing path, enjoying the fresh air before you walked back. "Uh- excuse me!" An unfamiliar voice called out to you. You turned around, "Hello?" The man smiled at your response. Usually, people would just ignore him. "Why, hello! I - uh happened to see you walk out of the Kamisato Manor.... are you perhaps Mr.Kamisatos lover?" His response was blunt and straight to the point, causing your blood to drain from your face.

"No, no, of course not, haha, I'm just here to visit an old friend." You did a little victory dance in your head at the quick lie you made. The male nodded. "So that means you're single... are you not?" His body got closer to yours. "Well, I- uh- it's complicated!" You stumbled over your words, a pink hue from embarrassment flushed your face. "Seems to me that you are blushing~" he got even closer, causing you to walk backward, but you bumped into something.

You go to turn. However, a familiar sturdy hand placed itself on your hip. The males face drained from any blush it had, his eyes widening. "Why are you pushing yourself on this person?" The noble voice rang out through the air. The man bowed down "S-sir I promise I wasn't. We were just about to go on a date." The creepy male was stumbling over his words, Ayato held an amused smile. "Really? Well, I didn't think that my fiance would get tired of me that quickly" Ayato stated.

The male looked up, shocked. He apologized far too many times and ran off like prey. Your fiance knelt down a little and kissed your ear ever so slightly. "Don't worry about it. He won't say a word, " You nodded and turned around, softly kissing his lips. "You're truly amazing, Mr.Kamisato." he smiled at you, giving you another kiss, leading you back to the manor. "As are you, soon to be Kamisato"

Diluc

Clicking and clacking glasses could be heard all around the tavern. Tonight was particularly rowdy. People were celebrating the 'fall' of Dvalin. This was definitely the most filled night this Tavern has seen. You turned towards your husband, smiling softly. He walked over to you softly, placing his hand on yours before turning back to his work. Whenever it got busy, you would help him make drinks while he washed the glasses and made food.

"Hey, hot stuff." A voice rang out. You assumed he wasn't talking to you. I mean, it was often for those to flirt near you, so you just continued to do your job. "I'm talking to you." Finally, you look up only to find an adventurer drunk out of his mind glaring at you with hungry eyes. You shivered uncomfortably, going back to work. 'Hopefully, if I ignore him, he'll go away.' However, when you turned, he grabbed your wrist. "H-hey!" You said causing him to smirk.

"A whiney one, huh?" You pull your arm back only for him to yank you forward, half of your body practically across the counter. Kaeya quickly alerted his older brother, Diluc whipped his head around, watching you struggle against the grasp of the man.

The Tavern got quiet, everyone watching Dilucs Wrath as he marched towards the male. His hand gripped the adventures arm, "Watch it!" The drunken male said. "Out." Dilucs tone was cold, making the males grip on your arm loosen, and you slid away. Kaeya and Venti rushed over to check on you. "You can't just kick me out! Who even are you?!" Diluc smirked, "I'm the owner." He grabbed the male by his collar and shoved him out the door. "Come again, and your consequences will be detrimental."

The Tavern went back to its usual business, and Diluc knelt down beside you. Kaeya and Venti moved out of the way after he thanked them. "I'm so sorry, I would've done something sooner." You shook your head as he grabbed your arm, assessing the bruises you had. "It's fine Luc, it happens, plus now everyone knows not to fuck with my husband" he blushed at your words and kissed your arm. "Go ahead and sit with Venti, I'm going to close early." You nodded your head, pecking his lips softly.

Kaeya

You walked out of your house, making your way to the Knights of Favonius to drop your fiances lunch off. It was a soft breezy day, the sun was out but it wasn't too hot. You made your way up the stairs, carefully not to drop the food. However, as soon as you made it, a fatui member stared down at you. "U-uh hello." You mumbled a greeting and went to walk your way. However, their hand grabbed your arm. "Not so fast," your heart dropped at their actions. People were around, but no one really seemed to notice how uncomfortable you were, so they went on with their day.

"Is there a problem?" You asked nicely, trying to avoid any problems. "Every day I see you, every day you bring food to the Knights, and you ignore my hellos. Why is that?" You were genuinely confused. You knew he never said hello to you. In fact, you made note of him always being stone cold. "There must be a misund-" your voice was cut off by his grip tightening. "You think I'd say it if it was a misunderstanding? Hm?" His voice was filled with fury, you weren't sure what had caused this but you really didn't want to deal with this.

"Listen, I really don't know what's happening. I'm just trying to give my fiance his lunch. " The male smirked."What if I don't let you? " His dark demeanor made your blood drain, and your hands started to shake. However, a hand grabbed your shoulder. "Then I'd have to take you out myself." You fiancé appeared out of the blue, "Yeah, you're not getting away with that. You're under arrest for harassment." He quickly motioned the other Knights to detain him.

He looked back towards you. "You're just irresistible, huh my love? Everyone wants a bite, " he joked around, trying to lighten up the mood, which worked. "Don't worry, my love magnet, I'm off for today."

Xiao

When it came to dating the anemo yaksha, it meant you HAD to be safe, and if there was any situation, you needed to say his name. But in this one situation you couldn't. A knife was held up to your throat, your arm already aching from being slashed earlier. A singular treasure hoarder behind you. He was randomly yelling commands, causing you to start to hyperventilate. The man smiled at your 'weak' reaction. "Who would've thought... I got lucky after all, huh? " His free arm snaked around your waist as the knife slightly pierced the skin on your neck, a small amount of blood dripping down. You winced and whispered a quiet help. "Go on yell, at this hour no one will hear you," he tightened his grip on you. His breath disgustingly touching your neck. "I'm gonna kill you." The knife dug in deeper. "Xiao," you whimpered quietly. The man went to ask what you said but was quickly slashed down.

It didn't end there, Xiao lost it. You turned away, but your ears still picked up on the slashing of the treasure hoarders body. It quickly came to an end, and Xiao ran over to you, his mask now off. His hand lifted your chin, exposing your neck. "Archons," he muttered and quickly lifted you up, teleporting you to his room in the inn.

"Sit." You did as he said and sat on the bed, slowly removing the fabric from your arm. Your hands shook heavily from the traumatic events that you had just gone through. "Hey. Look at me." The calm voice said, you oked up at your beloved, "I'll help you fight, okay? The demons on the outside and in here, " he poked your head softly. You tackled him in a hug, "Thank you so much," he stumbled back but wrapped his arms around you. "It's my duty, now sit down so I can fix you"

Zhongli

You sat at the teahouse with your beautiful husband, Zhongli. It was a calm tradition the two of you had for hundreds of years. After your duties, you would both meet up and sit in silence while drinking some warm tea, most of the time reading a book or draw. He excused himself to use the restroom, you nodded and continued to sketch out some drawings.

However, a red-haired male sat down beside you. "What's that there?" You stared at him, he looked awfully familiar. "Do I know you?" His freckled face turned towards yours. He leaned in a little two close to your comfort, causing you to back up a bit. "No, but I can teach you who I am." You shook your head "That won't be needed." The male smirked and grabbed your pencil "Oh yeah then-" he was introduced by a booming voice "Childe. Leave."

He smirked and bowed down, leaving after blowing you a kiss. You look up at your husband, heavily confused. "What was that?" The geo Archon didn't answer. Rather, he grabbed your shoulders, bringing you into a passionate long kiss. "It was a nuisance trying to take What's mine"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

This highkey sucked💀

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin oneshots #genshin reader insert #zhongli x reader #xiao x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #ayato x reader #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons

[ma1dita]

crazy little thing

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 3.4k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where he spends all his drachmas to make you smile. Sometimes, the Apollo kids are better matchmakers than Aphrodite herself. Everyone’s tired of you two dancing around each other. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: lil valentines day special though im working on more est. relationship fluff after this!! happy season 2 renewal babies

(posted 2/9/24 unbetaed)

—

“Come on, you gotta admit—it’s kinda funny!” 

Luke is met with blank stares at the camp store after he places a few drachmas onto the folding table in front of the Apollo kids. They’re not sure if he’s trying to convince them, or himself.

Because yeah, that’s the excuse he goes for, wanting to spend his savings on having them sing to a certain head counselor instead of admitting his blatantly obvious feelings, so if you ask Lee Fletcher and his half-siblings, it’s kind of pathetic.

“What do we look like, a traveling mariachi band, Castellan?” he deadpans, watching the usually confident boy scratch the back of his neck with his face red like someone who’s been sitting out in the sun for too long. 

“I’m not saying to follow her around all day or whatever, just pick a random time to sing a song and catch her off-guard,” he insists, before meeting the judgmental look of one of Lee’s younger siblings.

Lee chuckles, ruffling his sister’s hair before looking at Luke quite seriously, “She’s a good friend. You’re gonna have to pay us more than that. Special song for a special lady after all.”

The son of Hermes knows he’s gonna regret this sooner or later, but proceeds to throw the rest of his meager earnings onto the table. He has other ways of being resourceful anyway, the box of chocolates he nicked from behind the store counter feeling heavy in his jacket pocket.

“Right…she’s just a friend.”

Luke’s hands fidget at his sides as he stands there, feeling a little stupid.

Lee’s little sister scoops up the coins from the table, her raised eyebrows and light aura mirroring that of her older brother. 

“What song were you thinking?” she asks, “Gotta make sure I know it if I’m singing it to your…friend.”

The 18-year-old boy tugs at his dark curls, getting more embarrassed and wanting to retreat with every minute that passes, but he’s never been one to back down from anything–swordfights, monsters, capture the flag, but this—trying to impress you...is a whole different story somehow.

Why are feelings so damn complicated? 

It feels like being at the butt of a joke, or more accurately—at the sharp edge of a sword, and Luke never lets his fights end in a draw.

“You guys got it covered. Just…surprise me too, I guess,” he sighs, walking off without finishing his sentence. He wishes he could pray a little harder to his dad for luck, even if he’s unsure of what exactly he’s wishing for (or if his dad will even listen).

“Castellan’s hopeless. You think he knows it yet?” the girl asks her brother, to which Lee laughs.

“I don’t think she does either, even though everyone else can see right through them. The new bets are on who’s gonna break first. Chiron’s been keeping track, but don’t tell Mr. D.”

If Luke wants a show, they’ll make sure he’ll get his money’s worth—and hopefully, it’ll push you two along faster. Lee bet on you two getting together before the summer after all, and he’ll be damned if he loses to Clarisse.

—

Valentine’s Day might be the day of love, but for you, someone who’s single (not by choice), and heavily busy with making sure people aren’t so…enamored in public (you’ve lost count of the reports you’ve written out due to indecent behavior this morning alone)---this just feels like another Wednesday, except with more hormonal teenagers with uncontrollable urges than usual. 

Oh, the joys of being the daughter of the camp director, also known as everyone’s favorite narc.

Honestly, love can suck it. With this much love in the air, you can feel it suffocating you like a plastic bag over your head. 

That’s an uncontrollable urge. Too much?

Maybe Silena was right, you do need to open yourself up more to romantic opportunities. But if you have to watch another person swap spit and get pawed at like they’re the last dinner roll at the table….You might commit arson and set this place ablaze.

You just didn’t understand why people had to go all out today of all days. Shouldn’t love be shown year-round? Though you were a person of theatrics and enjoy a good show, it is amazing how much grandiose displays of affection make you cringe. It felt very performative, instead of genuine, and you would know, you’re the best actress at camp. You’ve acted out stories before, knowing all of the greatest romances and tragedies by heart. And you pride yourself on being a decent teacher to the campers, but for some of them, love still translates to a bad rendition of a ballad they heard on the radio.

Nothing gets past you at this point.

But that sucks too sometimes, you know?

Multiple failed flings and a heartbreak or two weigh down on you on days like this one, as you’re stuck being a bystander to outlandish displays put on by the Aphrodite kids being put to work. Love is their domain anyway, and yours…makes you feel a little less undesirable. Each demigod has their own strengths and weaknesses, but perhaps in the name of love, some of them don’t know how to take a hint. Several forgettable prose readings, a Sparknotes version of Eros and Psyche, and too many red roses to count have you reeling from exhaustion and a bit of disgust—-and it’s only lunchtime. 

So yeah, maybe you’re a little jealous; they could call you Nemesis at this point.

The only flowers you got today were from the little kids from along the path to the strawberry orchard, and though it’s sweet—the human side of you misses affection. 

Devotion. 

To be a daughter of Dionysus meant to deal in extremes, obsession or nothing, and there are very few people who can handle that. Always being too much to handle, or uninterested as a defense mechanism. Perhaps that’s what scares admirers away. 

That, or the fact that Luke Castellan is always attached to your hip. To be honest, you’ve always preferred it that way—the both of you working as a pair always gets things done faster around camp and he brightens your mood, whether you admit it or not. 

But you two are just friends. 

Really good friends who look for each other in crowded rooms, hands constantly brushing against the other for comfort, and able to pick up where the other one leaves off. Usually he’s the first person you see in the morning, and the last person you say goodnight to. You know how he likes his coffee and he cuts your apples for you as you two sit together in your unassigned seats in the dining pavilion. You watch each other’s workshops and if one of you is missing, everyone knows to ask the other to get an answer.

Right? That’s totally normal coworker/friend behavior.

If you were ever given immortality, perhaps they’d make you the goddess of denial.

You’re sweeping up confetti from the dining hall floor after an uncoordinated excuse of a flash mob was performed for one of the Demeter kids…and not to sound like a heinous bitch, but maybe next time they should use something biodegradable…or less messy. Sighing deeply, you feel someone’s eyes on you, and when you look up, Luke’s standing there with two full plates of food.

“Take a break, trouble. No one’s paying you overtime,” he jokes, and you roll your eyes as you put the broom aside.

“No one’s paying me at all…” you groan, before taking the plate out of his hands and knocking your head against his shoulder in thanks. He snickers as his hand brushes the small of your back, tickling your spine as he leads you to sit at a table.

“Just another holiday. You know how it is.”

“It’d be nice to have a night off though. Sometimes I regret taking up the position,” you mumble through spoonfuls of soup. He throws his large hand over your shoulder, kneading some tension from your trapezius. Head jerking along with the movements, you giggle as soup dribbles off your spoon, which makes his lips quirk into a small smile. Being around you felt so thoughtless and easy that if you told him to jump off a bridge he’d do it without question, which should be more concerning—the hold you have on him is irrevocable. Feelings are way too difficult for his teenage brain to comprehend at this stage. It’s easier to wash dishes with lava or fight off a dragon (bad example, he knows, but there’s something about you that already makes him feel like he’s losing before anything’s even happened).

Luke is someone who fights until the end, a soldier who’s always trained and so ready that sometimes it makes you wonder what war he’s preparing for. Infatuation, or the scarier, four-letter word was not something he was ever briefed on.

“No, you don’t. You’re a control freak,” he says with a grin. 

Luke watches you play with the pendant on your necklace, the dragon scale he fashioned into your favorite accessory glinting in your hand. Running your fingers back and forth over the smooth surface, your other hand puts the spoon down and you place your head on his shoulder. He thinks if he had to describe the four-letter word on the tip of his tongue, he’d tell whoever’s asking about the way you kissed his healing cheek after you both left the Garden of Hesperides. More than a year later, Luke is still unable to find the right words even if the weakness has made a home in his heart with your name written all over it.

“I swear if I have to hear another person croak out a lovesong I might just drown myself in the Long Island Sound,” you scoff as his fingers trace circles onto your waist.

There’s a low strum of a guitar that reaches your ears and your forehead meets the cool surface of the table as you shut your eyes and grumble. It’s Lee and his half-siblings, beginning to walk through the hall seconds away from singing until they see Luke shaking his head and dragging his finger across his throat to please, gods, stop. The Apollo kids swivel and 180, walking out of the hall as the music stops dissonantly, rolling their eyes and dragging their feet.

“That was quick,” you say inquisitively as your head pops up from the table to see Luke looking off in the distance.

“Heh…I think they were just practicing or something…”

He then had to run off and pay them more drachmas for the inconvenience. 

Fucking hustlers.

—

The sun sets quickly on Camp Half-Blood since it’s mid-February, and Luke finds you trying to calm your nerves as you look at the mess of glitter and paper mache that covers the arts and crafts hall from floor to ceiling.

“I can’t believe this!” you say in disbelief as you look at Luke, and he takes the can of Redbull out of your shaking hand.  

“There’s just no fucking way everyone decided to use glitter. It’s everywhere! I’m—CONNOR, PUT THE SCISSORS DOWN!”

Luke sighs as he holds his hand out for his younger brother to give up the craft scissors, which he relinquishes with a mischievous grin. 

“Guys, go find trouble somewhere else,” Luke mutters, pushing his head away, and where Connor goes, Travis quickly follows, tossing a canister of glitter back at him and not knowing it was still open.

“Oops.” 

Immediately, the both of you are showered in iridescent particles, floating over your heads and stuck in your hair as the older Stoll brother looks at the two of you wide-eyed.

“You've already got trouble anyway,” he says teasingly, and this asshole winks at Luke before bolting out the door.

The room is silent now, and you pinch the bridge of your nose, before speaking, “I don’t care if he’s your brother, Luke. I might just fucking kill him.” You'd say more but your eyes are shut as you try not to breathe in glitter, and then the sound of the doorknob rattling catches your attention. Luke is standing there, finally faced with a door he can’t open, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance–but the effect isn’t as menacing as it should be when he’s covered in red and pink sparkles.

“Not if I get to him first, the little bastard.”

“Just open the door,” you say panicked, running over and forcing his hands off the doorknob.

“I can’t if you won’t let me do it!” He grits, elbowing you and trying to unlock the door with both his inherited gift and brute strength.

“What kind of demigod even are you? Lockpicking is supposed to be your thing!”

“Well OBVIOUSLY, but it’s not working, now is it, trouble?”

Luke finishes off the rest of your energy drink before throwing the can over his shoulder and he swears he can hear you cuss at him under your breath as you berate him about the mess, so he chooses to focus on busting the door down instead of looking at the glitter stuck in your eyelashes and thinking about how the idea of being stuck in a room with you makes him feel weak at the knees. Through the window, his eyes meet the group of Apollo kids staring at the predicament you two are in (and the barricade of chairs the Stoll brothers put in front of the door). He sighs, and Lee’s little sister flips him off as they start to walk away again, instruments in tow.

“You gonna charge him again?”

A tiny Will Solace looks at his elders for guidance as they walk along the path. As one of the youngest in the bunch, he especially idolizes anything his half-siblings do, going along with whatever they see fit.

“No, but we’re close enough to the archery range that I might just shoot them through their hearts myself. Eros and Aphrodite themselves are pretty much begging us to,” Lee grumbles.

“Why are we doing this again?” Will babbles, and his half-sister grabs his hand to help him walk faster.

“A crazy little thing called love. You’ll understand it better someday, kid.”

—

Thankfully, it all starts winding down after dinner. Luke finds you leaning against a tree flipping through your clipboard during the camp sing-along, so he tugs at your elbow to get your attention.

“Wanna get out of here?”

You look at him, slotting your pen behind your ear as you notice faint glitter particles still dotted along his cheeks. As your lips pull into a small smile, you say, "I still have a few things to do after this, don't you?"

"Cleared your schedule for the night," he mumbles, and whether it's the glow of the bonfire or he's actually blushing, a teasing expression crosses your face as you step closer and cross your arms at him.

"You cleared my schedule for the night. How on earth did you do that?"

Instead of a proper reply, he grabs your hand, tugging you out to the docks near the lake.

"Don't worry about it."

He's not going to tell you that he owes Chris and Annie a few favors before the end of the month to make up for the night shift they ended up taking. Instead, you both sit cross-legged at the edge of the dock, a gentle breeze brushing at your clothes and for the first time today, you're able to just exist.

"I hate Valentine's Day," you suddenly say, looking up at the night sky, and he's watching you closely as the gentle shine of the moon casts a cool glow on your face. Luke cringes at your statement, thinking he's already thrown away his shot.

"Why's that?"

"Tell me something Luke, am I unlikable? Like, is there anything wrong with me?"

He looks at you like you've told him you’re secretly a cyclops.

“The fuck? How many times do I have to tell you that everyone thinks you’re great?"

You don't even give him a chance to finish his sentence before you blurt, "I don’t want to be great, I want to be loved!" Reeling back a little, you lean back on your hands to create some distance.

 “Sorry... that was a lot, and I’m just...wanting to be noticed. It's nice to have people's attention sometimes, you know?”

You’ve got all of mine, he thinks, realizing he never stood a chance at fighting it—this four-letter feeling you give him is the first and only battle he’ll back down from, and you're the only person he’ll wholeheartedly surrender to.

In short, he’s fucked.

"I always notice you." He pulls out a dented box of chocolates from his jacket pocket, opening it up for the both of you to share, and the look of amusement on your face makes him glad that at least one thing somewhat went to plan today, even if the chocolate truffles are a bit smushed. You’re popping one into your mouth and his dark eyes follow the trail of your fingers to your mouth, feeling his heart beat a bit faster.

But then you both hear the soft strum of a guitar from near the trees, and the two of you turn to hear some of the Apollo kids singing beautifully along the coastline.

I'll be seeing you, in all the old, familiar places...That this heart of mine embraces...

You gasp, grabbing Luke’s arm to push yourself up so that the both of you can turn and face a small group of your closest Apollo friends singing to the both of you. Luke’s eyes soften further when he feels you grab his hand and squeeze, leaning against his shoulder as you listen.

“Did you do this?” you mumble, still entranced by the performance.

“Only if it makes you laugh.”

And you do, in the way that he loves—a bit crazy and too loud, and it’s perfect.

I’ll always think of you that way…I’ll find you in the morning sun….

Whether it’s fireflies or Will bouncing light off the water to look like small, glowing candles, Luke can’t tell—he’s too busy watching your lips pull into a smile so confectionery his sweet tooth starts to ache. The little kid was never good at archery like his other half-siblings, but as your eyes shimmer under the ambient lights, you think his added romantic gesture shot you straight through the heart.

“You know, sometimes I really do hate you, Luke Castellan,” you whisper, and it couldn’t be more far from the truth.

“No, you don’t.”

His eyes flicker to you again, but you’re already looking back at him.

“I don’t.”

And when the night is new, I’ll be looking at the moon…but I’ll be seeing you…

It’s quiet now, and you’re unsure of where the Apollonian ensemble disappeared to but instead of worrying about if they’ll make it back before curfew, you stand there in front of Luke with your guard down.

Getting a little closer than he expected, your noses brush before you pull the slightly crushed wildflowers from your jean pocket, the only physical reminder you’ve kept from today, and tuck them into his jacket pocket, sitting right above his heart. 

“Thank you.”

Luke doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until he feels your lips gently kiss the marred skin on his right cheek, the blemish having an uncanny resemblance to a stroke of lightning; it serves as a reminder of his weakness. The lines blur as his eyes close to savor it and he doesn’t know if weakness is your kisses or his scar—but he is vulnerable to it all the same, realizing there’s a crack in the otherwise perfect persona that he’s worked so hard on. When his eyes open again, his Achilles’ heel has taken human form.

—

“This has got to be cheating,” Clarisse grumbles as she watches from the distance, hidden behind the trees.

“It’s not cheating if I’m winning. Silena’s gonna get a kick out of this,” Lee chuckles, ushering everyone back towards the cabins. It’s a bit harder to do this in the dark as they try to be quiet and not interrupt whatever will happen next between their favorite counselors.

“Well lucky for you, your gifts are cute and romantic, what am I supposed to do? They fight enough!”

“That’s what got them into this mess in the first place. Come on, curfew’s in 10. We’ll find out which of us wins the bet soon enough,” Chris mutters, pushing them along back onto the main path.

“Easy for you to say, Rodriguez, you live with Luke!”

“Would I ever lie to you, La Rue?” he says with a mischievous grin, and the Apollo kids giggle at the irony.

—

“My body ages,

my anger burns into a seam.

I am so annoyed by love

and still it comes.”

-Kate Baer

ask to be added to luke/general taglists!

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#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #luke castellan x reader fanfic #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan fluff #made by ma1dita ♥︎ #trouble!verse #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[aww-canon-no]

Steddie (Deaf Steve) Pt 2

You asked, so I’m here to give you more.  This time from Eddie’s POV.

First kiss, sequel to Shoot Your Shot.

*** 

Soon Enough

Rated: T

Steve/Eddie

Modern AU, first kisses, Deaf Steve, ASL

(Content warnings: mentions of childhood neglect/abuse)

Eddie has never, ever once believed in conformity.  And he’s not about to start now.

(Eddie’s ASL fuck-up is translated in notes at bottom of this fic)

*** 

Eddie Munson’s life has always been…difficult, to say the least.  Born under a bad sign, Wayne liked to call it, but in a kind of affectionate way.  The way where he’s holding small Eddie who can’t stop crying and wondering why all the other kids in his class have really nice parents who buy them things and, you know, feed them.

Wayne stepped in when he could.  He never failed to show up with food and threats against his brother when he heard Eddie’s tiny, broken voice on the other end of the phone because his dad was too drunk or too high to feed him.  Eventually they struck a deal.  Eddie’s parents disappeared after signing some scary looking paperwork, and Eddie got to pack all his things and move to Wayne’s trailer which was small compared to where his classmates all lived, but nice.

So nice.

Like washing machine and running water nice.

He won’t have to be the smelly kid in class anymore.

He just didn’t realize how reputations clung in small towns.

So suffice it to say that Eddie abhors difficult things—including difficult people.  It’s why, when his little lambs started going on and on and fucking ON about their cool, badass older friend Steve who used to date Nancy, Eddie was determined to never meet him.

It wasn’t just the jealousy.

It was that Steve communicated on a whole other level.  Literally.  He was Deaf.  He went to the Deaf school that wasn’t anywhere near Hawkins and he knew no one, but somehow Steve and his perfect fucking hair was still popular amongst people who weren’t freaked out by the whole, he can’t hear shit, thing.

Yeah, it definitely wasn’t jealousy.

It was the fact that Steve was complicated and he used a whole separate language and Eddie just…had no plans to involve himself in that.

Never mind the kids were over the goddamn moon about being able to know ASL.  They communicated with it during campaigns whenever they didn’t want Eddie to know their plans, and—although Eddie actually did look up stuff online about Deaf people (all that stuff about capital D and lowercase d and the community and culture was all very overwhelming) he was pretty sure his little lambs were technically not allowed to make up sign names for all the creatures in their guides.

But they did it anyway and who was Eddie to stop them.

He ended up picking up a few things by osmosis, whether he liked it or not.

But he was determined, damn it.  He existed over here, Steve existed over there, and they all lived happily ever after.

Until the afternoon he walked into Scoops Ahoy.

***

Eddie had actually gone in to bother Robin.  They were sort of outcast friends.  Two freaky little gays at Hawkins High, though she was younger than him and had absolutely no interest in DnD, but they had a shared trauma bond of bullies and bullshit.

He came to a stop when he saw the absurdly good looking guy at the counter who was staring at him in ways no one had ever stared at Eddie.  The way that said he had no idea who Eddie was and it was always great to have a fresh start like that.

Then Eddie fucked up by not reading his badge and realizing exactly who was there.

And like Dustin had once predicted, the second he met Steve’s eyes, he was a gonner.  There was no resisting him.

He was smitten and the hole was too deep for him to claw his way out of.

He went home and looked up a bunch of videos that seemed suspect as fuck, so in the end he called Dustin who showed up at Eddie’s trailer with an arsenal of websites.

“Can’t you just get me, like, a book or something?”  Eddie had asked, feeling intimated and overwhelmed and already kind of tired.

Dustin had given him the bitchiest bitch face that ever bitched.  “You can’t learn ASL from a book, numbnuts.”  Then his hands twisted into the complicated shapes—all fast the way Dustin kept bragging about—and Eddie assumed he was repeating most of what he’d just said.

Eddie damn-well knew that if he actually wanted Steve to say yes to him, he was absolutely going to have to learn because while the kids said Steve could speak, he hated doing it.  And Eddie was the kind of guy who had been rebelling against forced conformity his entire life.

So yeah, he’d rather die than put that choice to Steve.

He learned enough to feel confident going back to the mall.  And Robin was once again playing the long game with Vickie who would literally drag Robin into the cleaning closet and rock her world if Robin only asked—but he knew she wouldn’t.  But it left the perfect opening for Eddie who walked up to the counter, panicked, and immediately forgot everything he’d learned about ASL in the time he’d been away from Steve’s ice cream counter.

In the end, he remembered a little, then tried to backtrack and tell Steve he’d ask him out when he was a little more fluent.

Which made Steve laugh, and Eddie wouldn’t find out until much later that it took at least seven years of immersion to become fluent so…

Yeah it was kind of hilarious.

For Steve.

Mortifying for Eddie.

The blow was softened when Steve touched him—like actually touched him without reservation or hesitation.  And then he told Eddie he didn’t want him to wait.  Eddie was fine as he was—that patience with his language could be a thing and Jesus H Christ Eddie was pretty sure he could die right then.

Except if he died he wouldn’t get the chance to touch Steve back, and kiss him, and make him laugh, and make him make other noises and Jesus H Christ he wanted that so bad he could taste it.  Because he’d been avoiding Steve for what felt like half his new adult life but he was head over heels smitten in two visits to the ice cream shop.

And he didn’t even like ice cream.

He was lactose intolerant for fuck’s sake.

Anyway, he got Steve’s number and he didn’t wait to text.

But the date did.

They planned for the movies and then…

Wayne got hurt at the plant.  He ended up being fine, but it scared the absolute fuck out of Eddie who staying at the hospital until his back hurt from the small chair, and his phone was dead, and he felt like passing out.

The nurses had to kick him out, and Eddie walked out of the room in a fog, and stumbled into the downstairs lobby where he came to an abrupt halt at the sight of a familiar, gorgeous head of hair.  Steve was facing away from him with big headphones on, bobbing his head to…music?

Eddie totally didn’t get it, but he couldn’t help himself from walking over and laying a hand on Steve’s shoulder.  He felt like shit when Steve jumped half a foot off the chair, but then his face broke out into a soft, sympathetic smile.

‘Hi.’  It was a simple enough sign that Eddie didn’t have to try for that one.  ‘You OK?’  He signed slow, mouthing the words.

Eddie swallowed heavily, then shrugged.  His fingers felt a little stiff and he wasn’t sure he had the emotional capacity to take embarrassing himself by getting signs wrong no matter how frantically he’d been practicing since the day at the mall.

Steve’s face fell a little more, and Eddie was pretty sure he’d never seen anyone look so…so soft at him before.  He walked around the benches toward Eddie, then yanked him into a hug.  It was so unexpected that Eddie just…melted.  His head pressed against Steve’s headphones which were blaring with music, and Eddie had about a thousand questions but instead he just lost himself in the way that Steve hugged.

It was…a lot.  

Of course, it was mostly that Eddie just never, ever got hugged and all the touching he did was imitated by himself and almost never returned, but that was a different trauma for a different day.

For now he just let himself have this.  Have Steve.  Have the body pressed to his and voiceless permission to kind of shake apart after holding it together for hours, and hours, and hours.

When he pulled back, Steve gave him a cautious smile and Eddie reached up, tapping Steve’s headphones.

‘Hurt?’ Eddie asked. ‘Loud?’

Steve frowned, then rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone, turning off his music before pulling them back and draping them around his neck.  He shook his head and shrugged.  ‘Can’t…hear?’  Eddie was pretty sure that was the sign for hear.  Not hearing, which was a little finger twirl under the bottom lip.  ‘Not hurt  Feel it.’

Eddie nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets before remembering—oh shit, I need those to like, talk to Steve, and pulled them out again.

Steve laughed—but he was maybe one of the only people in the world who didn’t seem like he was laughing at Eddie, and wow what a goddamn novelty that was.

Steve tapped his arm and Eddie looked up at him as Steve curled his hand into a C-shape and dragged it down his throat.  ‘Hungry-you?’

He was starved.  He mimicked the sign and remembered the lesson he learned online where he had to exaggerate the sign if he wanted to emphasize what he was saying.  So he ran his C-hand over his throat a few times, then added, ‘Eat, before, work.’  He met his left wrist with his right wrist once with heavy force. He knew that wasn’t right but maybe it was close enough?

Except Steve was suddenly all red in the face and making a choking sound.  Eddie took a step back, but Steve reached out and snagged his arm before he could get too far, shaking his head.

Eddie was pretty sure he was supposed to be mortified but right then he was mostly curious and uh…yeah.  Steve was touching him again so that was good.

Steve touched the underside of Eddie’s chin and he made an embarrassing noise which Steve must have felt because his grin twitched a little wider.  Then he shook his head.

‘H U N G R Y,’ he spelled very slowly.  He repeated his sign, then added, ‘S T A R V I N G?’  He made a little question mark motion with his finger.  It was weirdly cute, and Eddie didn’t describe things as cute very often.

He nodded. Yeah.  He’d been trying to say starving.

Steve made a noisy sort of huffing sound with some rumble behind it, then squared his shoulders and nodded before raising his right hand.  His left signed, ‘Watch.’

Eddie nodded.

Steve made an exaggerated face and dragged his C-hand down his throat with more force.  ‘Ok?’

Eddie nodded.  Okay, yeah.  He could do that.

Steve wasn’t done.  ‘W O R K?’

Eddie smiled and nodded his fist.  ‘Yes.’

Steve tapped the inside of his right wrist against the back of his left wrist.  ‘Work,’ he signed.

Eddie repeated the sign, and Steve nodded, giving him an enthusiastic thumb’s up.

‘Now- go-you-me.’ Steve signed—Eddie was...pretty sure? God he needed to practice more.

But he answered Steve with a happy, ‘OK,’ and didn’t mind at all when Steve took his hand.

Until suddenly he did mind because…

He dragged Steve to a halt and cleared his throat, pulling out his phone with his free hand and typing as fast as he could, ‘What did I say? Before?  What did I fuck up?’

Steve’s eyes got wide and he waved him off, but Eddie tugged on him until Steve let out a small groan, snatched the phone, and began to type.  Eddie had not one single qualm about reading over his shoulder, and in about five seconds, he wanted the earth to swallow him whole.

“I signed what?” he demanded aloud, forgetting himself entirely.

Steve looked over his shoulder, his face kind of…different.  Confused?  Full of pity at how fucking pathetic Eddie was?  Embarrassed to know him?

Was he…

Eddie’s thoughts came to a sudden, screeching halt when Steve cradled his face between his hands.  He leaned forward until his lips were practically brushing Eddie’s ear and he whispered aloud, “I’d be happy to fix that problem too.”

Eddie was already pretty sure spontaneous combustion was a thing, and now he was about to be living proof because oh my GOD.  Oh my... god oh my god oh my…

Steve dragged a thumb over Eddie’s lower lip, then raised his brows like he was asking, ‘Is this okay?’

Eddie nodded frantically and Steve began walking him backward until his back suddenly hit…oh.  It was a tree.  The bark was sharp against his bare elbow, but all of that ceased to matter the second Steve’s lips touched his.  It wasn’t a wild, desperate kiss of star-crossed lovers in the books Eddie secretly read.

No, it was soft.  It was gentle.

It was warm and it was fucking needy as hell but it was also the first kiss in a line of what Eddie was determined to have as many, many, many as he could.  As many as Steve would allow.

For the rest of their lives, God help them both.

Steve gently licked into Eddie’s mouth before finally pulling away, and the stress of Wayne being hurt and then him thoroughly embarrassing himself, he wasn’t hard or anything, but there was definitely a sort of humming desire under his skin which were as warm as his hands were because they...

Oh.

He looked down and realized that he’d rucked up Steve’s shirt and was digging his fingers into Steve’s bare hips.  ‘Sorry,’ he signed, dislodging one hand.

Steve laughed—a quiet huff mostly through his nose, and he shook his head before stealing a last kiss.  Eddie wanted to chase it, but he forced himself to keep his back to the tree as Steve dug into his pocket for his phone again.

‘For now,” he wiggled his phone.  ‘Until we can spend more time together and I can teach you more,’ Steve typed out.

Eddie swallowed heavily, then nodded.  ‘Why are you here?’

Steve frowned like he was confused why Eddie would even ask that. ‘Dustin said your uncle was hurt.  I didn’t want you to be alone when they kicked you out.’

Those words, that simple fucking act of kindness, was almost too much.  The emotions overwhelmed him and he wanted to laugh, and cry, and scream, and fucking sing until his throat seized up and he lost his voice.

He stared at the phone screen until Steve dragged a tender touch across the top of his hand, and he looked up.

‘Come home with me tonight.  Sleep,’ Steve typed before shoving his phone back into his pocket without waiting for Eddie’s answer.  He knew he should probably say no because they hadn’t even had their date yet, but then again, Eddie had never been conventional.

Never would be conventional.

He rubbed a flat palm over his chest.  ‘Please.’

Steve’s eyes darkened, just for a second.  Eddie panicked before he realized that no, he’d gotten the sign just right.  Steve was just maybe thinking of other ways Eddie might use that sign and…yeah.

Shit yeah.

Maybe not now.  Not tonight.  Not even very soon.

But soon enough.

Steve linked their fingers together and tugged…

And Eddie followed.

*** 

(Eddie’s ASL fuck-up.  Common mistake in ASL- Hungry=Horny.  Work=Fuck.  Steve is kind of okay with that idea too lol)

#Steddie #Steve Harrington #Deaf Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #modern AU #Stranger Things #dustin henderson #steve x eddie

[moominsuki]

✎ᝰ ITOSHI RIN ; — he promised he would never make you sad. even new promises can be born out of broken ones.

࿄ ! warnings — gn!reader except for the usage of ‘girl’, angst & lots of comfort. sfw! / note. my first time writing for rin so go easy on me :,} he makes my heart so warm. enjoy lovies <3

arguments with rin were akin to a battlefield. it hurts more than anything when he spits venom in your face, relaying words that should never be said by a man to his woman.

perhaps it’s the fact that you know him so deeply that reassures a hopeful part of you - a part of you that loves the dark, teal-hued haired man. it’s so tumultuous the way rin can go from zero to a hundred in seconds and suddenly, you’re walking on egg shells around him.

this time though, he knows for certain he’s fucked up. he can see it in the way fat tears run down the softness of your pink cheeks, and in the way that you relinquish all your weaponry, baring only a white flag and your soul:

“you’re right, rin. what do i know?”

it’s been a day and half and rin feels like hot garbage. he’s taking advantage of every half time to see if you’d message him first and his fingers always hover and twitch over the keyboard before the screen inevitably turns dark at his lack of activity and all he can see is his own tired and regretful face staring right back at him.

it was always you who'd reach out and, while he would seldom admit this to anyone, you were a constant in his life, the one person who understood him better than even himself. and now, he could feel you slipping out of his grasp, feeling a sense of despair creeping in.

he’s moving like he’s on auto pilot for the tedious remainder of his practice and he’s realised that you both haven’t gone this long without speaking in a long while and it sucks. why wouldn’t you understand that he’s a working man? he - you both knew that this was complicated. he was a professional footballer now - on the precipice of surpassing his older brother, and could you truly understand all the pressures and expectations that came with it?

rin doesn’t even know the answer to that anymore. though, what he does know is that he’s treated a good girl bad. and he’d be damned if he let his inferiority get in the way of loving you like you deserve.

“rin? you good, bro? you look like shit.” says isagi and rin scoffs before grabbing the black haired man by his shirt and pulling him close.

“what the fu-?!”

“tell coach i’ll be right back. something’s come up.”

rin speeds out the building before anyone can protest, taking nothing but his desire for you. he just hopes he gets there on time.

but it’s not like you’re doing anything particularly profound yourself. having called sick from university for a second day in the row, you’re eating leftover curry from the nights before... the nights when you and rin were cuddled up and you were spoon feeding him this exact meal.

you couldn’t stop the tears from dribbling down your face and right into your bowl. you hate that idiot. you hate that your heart beats for him and him only, even though he makes you feel like this on the bad days.

‘but there shouldn’t be any bad days,’ you think and the wrists of your sweater mop up any salty tears and snot from your face.

you can’t help but wonder if this was a sign from the universe - if you were destined to go your separate ways, to become nothing more than distant memories of a simpler time, a time in which rin would’ve ate glass if it meant he’d never see you cry again.

“you don’t have to do that, idiot,” you giggle, “though it would be a good punishment. are you manifesting that for yourself?”

rin shakes his head that’s kneading against your bare tummy, your t-shirt having been ridden up so he could press his cheek against the warm skin of your belly.

“just shut up… i would do a lot of things so that you’d never cry,” he grumbles cutely, ears red and you run your fingers through his hair as he lets out a puff of air.

“i’ll hold you to that, rinnie.”

three hard knocks against your front door throws you out of your reminiscing and you quickly wipe and pat at your face as hard as you can to brush away any remnants of a sadness-fuelled crying session before padding away to open at the door.

“hi - oh.”

you don’t know why you’re so surprised to see him but to see him like this? all sweated up, out of breath and pink in the face were all symptoms that were reserved for his football practice. the rin you knew would never sacrifice his prime training hours just to see you-

“just give me a minute. you - you don’t have to let me in. but i just wanted to say i love you, y/n. and you deserve better than - than, i don’t even want to say it,” rambles rin, who’s short of breath and he doesn’t know if it’s from running all the way over to see you or if it’s from trying not to get distracted by how devastatingly gorgeous you look, even when he’s the reason for your heartbreak. you’re wearing the sweater that he got you and your eyes are all doe-eyed and glassy and your plump lips are pursed together.

“but i’ll say it anyway because it needs to come from me. you deserve better than me. and i’ll still want you regardless, even though i don’t deserve you. and i’m sorry. i’d still eat glass even if you want me to but it still wouldn’t be enough. i’m sorry.”

rin exhales loudly and closes his eyes for a moment so he doesn’t have to see the hurt on your face but all it does it prevent the anticipation of seeing your arms fly over his waist.

“you’re such an idiot, rin,” you sob, face stuffed in his jersey and he all but wraps two strong arms around and rests his face into your hair, wanting - needing to be engulfed by everything that you are.

“i still hate you for making me sad,” you say, all muffled and sniffly and he breathes out a little harshly at that, wincing but he knows he deserves more than a few pointed words from you.

“i hate myself for making you sad,” he murmurs and you sniffle even more.

“you should definitely eat glass after this,” you mumble and rin presses his lips into the crown of your head and hums.

“as long as it’s made by you.”

“shut up… you should, sniff, go back to practice,” you whisper after pulling your face from the comfort of your boyfriend’s warm and toned body.

“you’re sure you don’t want me to stay?” rin frowns and for the first time in almost three days does he see a beautiful grin take up your face and he has to stop himself crumbling into the floor while you nod fervently.

“seriously, you should go. i don’t want to be the reason why bachira and isagi start going off on you,” you giggle and rin’s lips upturn slightly and he lets out a half chuckle.

“yeah, you’re right. but i won’t be too long so… wait for me?”

“…ok,” you bite your bottom lip and rin holds back the dire urge to kiss you but given the circumstances, he decides not to overstep, already elated that you still want him in spite of his behaviour.

he nods again and goes to leave the vestibule of your home when you pull his arm back.

the dark haired man turns to look at you in confusion, “what-” but he is merely interrupted by your hands that grab at his neck and the push of your lips onto his own.

the way rin kisses back in reciprocity is almost instantaneous and too wild for you to keep up as his hands splay themselves across the small of your back to your waist. your mouth tastes like a faint hue of katsu curry and even so, rin can’t help but slot his lips over yours. you eventually throw your arms around his neck to get impossibly closer to the man and even though he’s smells vaguely sweaty, you can’t help but be addicted to the scent anyway. especially when he holds you like he can’t get enough of you and it makes a fire rumble in the pits of your belly.

“i don’t hate you by the way,” you say when you break apart the kiss to whisper on his lips and he hums, all placant and appeased from being in your arms.

“i know,” and rin leans down to kiss at you one last time and you push him away playfully.

“you should definitely go now. they’re gonna be on you when you come back,” you twinkle and rin can’t help but mirror the soft expression that sits on your face.

“i’ll see you later, y/n,” he nods, taking your knuckles to his mouth, and the action makes you roll your eyes and he smirks this time around.

“okay, okay, i’m gone.”

when you finally get to shut the door behind you, you saunter off to the couch to see a notification light up your phone.

rinnie <3: on my way back. i love you.

a salty droplet hits your phone screen but this time, it’s not a cause of sadness; more so, a cause of adoration for the idiot. your idiot.

you: i love you too, rinnie :) have a good rest of your practice!

the striker has missed approximately 30 minutes of practice by the time he languidly strolls through to the pitch and multiple sharp eyes land on him - despite his attempt at blending in to make it seem like he never left.

to say that the guys on the team lambasted him would be an understatement. rin makes a mental promise to never induce sadness in you again, lest he face the wrath of his annoying teammates. though he doesn’t really care what those idiots think.

he’d run out of a million more games if it meant he needed to make things right with you.

࿄ ! — all rights reserved © moominsuki. please do not copy, translate, repost nor recommend my work outside of tumblr. this is strictly prohibited.

#blue lock #not proofread hehe #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #rin itoshi x reader #rin x reader #rin angst #rin fluff #itoshi rin x reader #bllk fluff #bllk angst #✎𓂃stamped: (blue lock)。°˖⌕ #༝˚૮ .♡ rin

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐒𝐮𝐢 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 6.1k

chapter summary: you and joel take your relationship to the next level.

warnings: themes of grief and loneliness, hurt/comfort, fluff, body painting, joel being a very lousy nude model, oral (male receiving), heavy petting, fingering, shower sex, edging, dirty talking

a/n: aaaaand we're BACK-- the hiatus is officially over and I am so ready to focus on this series. I've missed them so much and I hope you guys all did too 💗 also special thanks to @undercoverpena for cheering me on while I was writing this, love you to the moon and back bby xx

Chapter Eleven || Chapter Thirteen

Loneliness had never been a stranger to you. You had your own brand of it, like a homemade fig preserve. Being so close with it, you’ve added something from yourself, and in return, it has branded your personality in such a way that it has become hard to think there was anything but. 

For the longest time that special brand of loneliness had been your closest friend. During adulthood, you noticed how tired you were of asking for people to be emotionally aware of your needs, your wants. You were tired of spelling it out for them. Your parents weren’t like you, neither was Auggie. No one around you was emotional like you were, so you learned to keep it locked tight in your heart. You cried at night. You smiled during the day. You felt off and weird when family members hugged you and wept on your shoulder, you dissociated. You’ve noticed this, especially at your grandfather’s funeral. He was gone and you hadn’t shed a tear among the dark black fabrics. 

Auggie knew you did this, but alas, it didn’t really matter. 

So when you found a family emotionally rich despite not having much, it came as a mild shock to you. Sarah didn’t have these issues. She didn’t care if she was emotional or not, or if what she said came off as needy. The only emotional constipation you noticed was between brothers, but even that didn’t stop them from addressing what they felt during an argument. 

You were no stranger to emotional outbursts. Reading a book and eyes welling before you could finish a sentence. 

Now, you feel less lonely thanks to Joel, Tommy, and Sarah, each filling a different gap in your withered soul. But even that doesn’t stop the old habit of sewing your mouth shut. 

You wake with a heavy weight on your chest. It’s still dark, the sky a dark shade of royal blue. It’s actually a beautiful night. However, your eyes are blind to it. Your skin is damp with sweat. If you saw a nightmare, you don’t remember what it was. You remember going to bed uncomfortable, Tommy’s sad eyes branded into your lids like tattoos you both want to and don’t want to get rid of. 

You gradually rise from the bed, the thin summer quilt sliding off your now cold body. You shudder. It had been a long time since you last felt this way. Empty and lonely. It always feels like you have to suffer through these emotions on your own, your need to smile through it more prominent than anything else. 

You smack your lips together, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. You need water. Ice cold water. 

Going down the stairs you don’t think how dark it is, or how some particular shadows remind you of your childhood when you would wake up thanks to the jarring sound of mosquitos, looking for comfort downstairs where your grandparents were usually up. Fuck, your chest is even heavier now. The muscle in your chest more like a cannonball than heart. You’re hyper-aware of the way your chest rises and falls with every breath and quickly, you make your way to the kitchen. 

The light of the fridge momentarily blinds you but despite your burning irises you manage to wrap your fingers around the familiar handle of the old jug. You pour yourself a big glass and take small swallows.

A soft wind caresses the outer skeleton of the house. The shadows of leaves dance over the walls, again, a familiar sight that drags you back and makes you sick simultaneously. 

“You a’right there, sweetheart?” 

You jump at the sound of a voice deepened with sleep. Tommy is staring at you from the entrance, brows furrowed, the crease between them so much like his brother. Taking another small sip of water, you swallow and place the cold glass on the counter. 

“I’m fine,” you grit out, your voice leveled. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.” 

Before you know it, Tommy’s warm hands are on your face, cradling your cheeks. His thumbs move over your cheekbones, pressing and applying pressure over the bone. Your heart skips a beat. It takes you everything not to lean into his touch, to seek out that comfort only he could give. But you think of Joel, you think of him, and you stop yourself. If Tommy knew about you and Joel, if you were completely honest with him—an open book, you would’ve taken that comfort to yourself, not a worry in your heart but he doesn’t know and that alone makes your stomach clench with guilt. 

“You don’t look fine,” his hands slide down to your shoulders. “Was it a nightmare?” 

You blink heavily, your eyes locked on one another. Two broken people in a dark kitchen. It pains you that a nightmare is Tommy’s first guess. You wonder how many times he’d woken up to the faux scent of gunpowder and screams only to be comforted by the darkness of the ceiling. 

“Something like that. I. . sometimes forget that they’re gone,” your eyes drop to his chest. “And then I remember that no matter what, in the end, I’ll be lonely.” 

“Lonely?” he spits out the word, shocked, hurt and baffled. “What are you talkin’ about? You have Joel—You have me.” 

You know you do. You really do. But after years of going through it all alone, to see your friends have their own support systems and people to protect them, care for them, it’s hard to believe you’ve found your people. It’s hard to believe that years of solitude where you had to take care of yourself was over. Old habits die hard. Your heart shatters piece by piece. Your heart nothing but a heavy weight in your chest. You want to collapse, to scream, shout and cry. Salty tears sting the corner of your eyes. Suddenly you’re drowning in your past like it’s still your present, the thickness of it goes all the way up to your neck and you can’t breathe— 

“Hey—hey,” Tommy cups your cheeks, thumbs running down where tears would be but your skin is dry. “Come back to me, it’s a’right. I’ll always be with you, you know? Even if you move far away, I’ll always be a thorn in your ass.” 

You crack a smile and manage to nod, placing a hand over his own. You think a tear finally falls, maybe even two. You hate feeling like this. Hate it. Tommy doesn’t look convinced by your expression. 

“Do. . .do you want me to call Joel?” 

His words freeze you to the bone. Of course, he would ask that—Tommy Miller, always thoughtful, always putting others first. They both do. You even think to some extent Sarah does the same thing. All of them throwing themselves in front of a moving train in different ways. 

You don’t know if he’s noticed something. Or if he just thinks that Joel’s presence would be more soothing, since he’s used to relying on his older brother. 

Either way, you want him to know that he’s enough. 

And he’ll always be enough. 

You shake your head, “No,” he furrows his brows when you part your arms. “But I wouldn’t say no to a hug.” 

Strong arms sneak under your armpits and broad palms press against your back. Tommy pulls you incredibly close. Holds you indescribably tight. His scent fills your lungs. A bit of sweat mixed with a day-old deodorant. He smells nice. He always had. His skin is warm against your cheek and you smile widely this time but he doesn’t see. 

“Thank you, Tommy,” you whisper into the darkness. “I would be lost without you.” 

“Are you sure you’re a’right?” 

“Yes, Joel.” 

“Hundred percent sure?” 

“Yes, sir,” you declare, your gaze fixed on Joel as you peer from the side of the canvas for a better look. “Now stand still.” 

Joel grumbles something inaudible and straightens his neck, attempting to keep his limbs as still as possible. Your eyes rove across his broad shoulders, the expanse of his chest, you take in the shadows that appear between every sinewy muscle and think about how to convey it into your painting. You still haven’t dared to look further down. Looking down means that you’ll definitely be distracted. 

You sketch a couple of lines that vaguely resemble his shape. You’ve missed painting nudes and when you mentioned it to Joel, he was eager to accept without actually realizing he had to stay still for a generous amount of time. 

“You should’ve called,” he grumbles. “I would’ve come straight over.” 

“I know,” you sigh. “But it was late, and Tommy was there.” 

He doesn’t say anything but you can sense his displease. 

“He’s my friend, Joel,” you answer, observing the thick contour of his neck. “And your brother.” 

“I know that. I just don’t like the idea of not being there for you.” 

“Tell him then,” you say a bit harshly. He doesn’t seem affected by your shift in tone. Another line joins the others. “If it was anything serious I would’ve called, hell, I would’ve come to you but it wasn’t that serious. I was just in a. . . mood.” 

“Tommy sure don’t think so.” 

You don’t say anything and focus on drawing the rest of his torso, he clicks his tongue in frustration, “I hate when you do this, you know.” 

You raise your eyebrows, “Do what?” 

“Downgrade your problems. It’s okay if you’re still grievin’. It’s okay if there are some things you’re still workin’ out. I just don’t want you to think you’re alone, I can be your rock, sweetheart. I’d be happy to.” 

“You are my rock, Joel—and keep still.” He huffs and straightens again, your lips twitching into a smile. “I’ll try to open up more. Promise. I do feel really lucky I have you. And Sarah—and Tommy. Some nights I just wake up feeling bad. Yesterday was just a bit more intense.” Joel grunts in approval and you add. “Also hasn’t Tommy heard of the phrase ‘snitches get stitches’?” 

“He wasn’t snitchin’,” he pouts, you want to take his bottom lip between your fingers and kiss him. “I actually asked how he was doin’ but he quickly brushed it off and told me about you instead.” 

“Of course, he did.” 

He nods but still seems wound up like a toy. His head drops a bit, the click of your tongue reminding him to keep still. 

Your eyes trace the contours of Joel’s body. He’s an excellent specimen, everything about him so human, so raw. Every freckle, every crinkle you want to eternalize onto your canvas. He’s not looking at you anymore. Eyes glued to the legs of the easel. You still haven’t fully taken in the sight of him. Sometimes you’re truly afraid of how strongly you feel for him, how much you’d be willing to lay down just to be with him. 

Honestly, a pocket of time would be ideal. That way you could spend eternity in this peaceful moment, living in bliss. 

You place the pencil down and walk up to him. His gaze is drawn to your once more, “Sorry, sweet tea, did I move again?” 

“Maybe a bit,” you lie, standing an inch away from his naked body. You press your thumbs against his cheekbones then slide them down, feeling the roughness of hair tickling your skin. His eyes flutter shut momentarily, before opening again. 

You don’t say a word. Time is still around you and you believe if you try hard enough this can be your forever. You trace the outer lines of his lips, then trace the seam. His lips part, a bit of tongue showing in between—you touch that too, shallowly dipping one finger before moving on to his neck, “To draw is to feel,” you muster, the ball of your thumb grazing firmly over his Adam’s apple. “Will you let me feel you?” 

“‘Course,” he chokes out. “Whatever you need.” 

His words make your chest swell with affection. Joel’s words make you feel brave enough to allow your gaze to venture down. You press the flat of your palms over the swell of his stomach, something trembles within—life, you think, he’s so full of it. Your one hand dares to go lower, playing with the dark curls that lead to his soft cock. 

However, he doesn’t remain soft for long, it twitches and grows, the head gaining a reddish hue. 

Joel tilts his head, gradually leaning in to claim your lips with his own. He stops when your fingers bite into his bare hips, lodging into that delicate spot between bone and muscle, he swallows thickly, cock raising with attention. 

“Stay still,” you whisper. “And maybe I’ll reward you.” 

“Oh, we’re playing that game now?” he says with a crooked smile that makes your stomach twist delightfully. You only smile as your hand slides lower and lower, until you cup his semi-hard cock. His breath hitches. 

I love you like this, you want to say but remain silent. You stroke him slowly until he’s fully hard, the warm muscle throbbing in your palm, you press your lips against his neck, sucking on his skin until his hips jerk. 

“I’m not playing any games,” you mouth into his skin. “If you let me paint you, I’ll let you fuck my mouth. Does that sound like a fair deal?” 

Joel thrusts into your hand once more, groaning as you lick the vein that throbs under his skin, “I won’t lie, sweetheart, that might be hard if you keep your hand where it is.” He exhales a shaky breath, the warmth of it fanning your skin. “But sounds fair enough, I’ll try.” 

You press a quick kiss to the small patch within his beard and pull away before he can follow the heat of your lips. He’s as still as a statue when you get behind the canvas, but instead of resuming sketching the rough outline of his body, you grab two tubes of paint and a brush; though you have your doubts you’ll be using the tool, you’d much prefer to feel the heat of his skin softening the paint between your fingers. 

When you come back to him, confusion crosses his face. 

“I thought you were gonna be paintin’?” 

Your lips twitch into a sinister smile, “I am.” 

As cliche as it might sound, Joel has always reminded you of a deep, rich shade of red—the color of blood—but he also reminds you of an earthy purple, the type of shade that makes you want to bury your fingers in it as if you might actually feel the earth itself.  

You shake two tubes of paint in front of his eyes. He’s still confused, yet remains still. You pop the red paint open first, squeezing a generous amount over his shoulder. You watch it trickle down, drops of crimson staining his torso, the color so deep that it looks too real. Your heart jumping, you quickly smear it down his chest and all the way to his stomach. Just like you predicted, the brush is forgotten, slipping from your fingers and onto the carpeted floor. Joel shudders, his breath caught in his throat, you see him clench his jaw. 

“Darlin’. . .” he rasps, voice full of gravel, and your hand stops where it follows the V of his lower abdomen.

“Do you want me to stop?” 

“No,” he answers quickly, breathily. “Don’t ever stop touching me. Don’t ever stop looking at me like that—like I’m the most valuable thing you have. Like I’m worth a damn.” 

“You are.” 

Slowly, your fingertip traces an invisible path upward, leaving a trail of red paint in its wake. Joel shudders and gulps loudly. You draw meaningless shapes, circle where his tattoo is, and draw shapes of ancient alphabets you vaguely remember from when you read a book about the Late Bronze Age. Joel shudders, twitches, and tenses under your touch but never actually moves, keeping his stance. 

After the red pigment is nothing more but a fading shade of pink, you pour some purple paint into your palm and apply it directly. You press your hand directly above his heart, leaving your handprint over it before moving to his back, “Fuck,” he groans. 

Looking down, you notice him clenching his buttocks and slightly swaying forward, you smile, his cock must be dripping. You can’t wait to take him in your mouth, for him to use you however he pleases. You need him to be desperate when he takes you, sliding his length down your throat as he berates you for taunting him with sinful touches in the guise of making art. 

You press your hands together and smear the remnants of red with the purple, the fresh paint overwhelming the other. When both hands are fully coated, your cup both his ass cheeks, sliding your hands up, you kiss the taut skin between his shoulder blades. You leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses all the way to his neck and lick the sensitive spot behind his earlobe. 

“I’d wrap my hand around your cock but I’m afraid the paint isn’t edible so you wouldn’t be able to fuck my mouth,” you tease. “Tell me what you want to do to me, Joel?” 

He groans, “Keep this up and you’ll find out, sweetheart. I’m not a patient man, you should know.” 

“But isn’t the wait fun?” you challenge, your hands sliding up to his front, right above his pelvis. “The taste of sex on your tongue, the way your cock throbs with the thought of my warm cunt tight around it? Don’t you feel that tingle. . .” you gradually lower yourself, dragging your tongue down his spine, a choked out sound rips from his throat, “going down your spine, reminding you of how good it’s finally going to feel when you push down my throat, cutting my airflow and taking me however you want?” 

Joel breathes heavily, his stomach clenching with every whispered word, “Darlin’, please.” 

“Turn around.” 

You look up as he does, you gently take his hand and place it on your cheek, your heart dissolving into something thick and sweet like honey when his thumb strokes your skin. His gaze grows soft, the arousal in them dimming, splitting away like waves to show the emotion. 

“Your knees are gonna hurt,” he says, voice dropping. 

He’s right, they are going to hurt. “I don’t care.” 

You lower both hands to your lap, obediently parting your lips, sticking your tongue out. Joel wraps a hand around his cock and jerks himself until he’s fully hard, he holds you by the hair and drags you closer. 

“You want me to fuck that pretty mouth?” 

“Please,” you repeat his own plea from earlier. 

The heft of his cock on your tongue almost feels like a blessing from above. Your eyes flutter shut. Joel slides himself torturously slow, inch by inch, as he fills your mouth, your lips stretching wide to accommodate his width. He moves down your throat, awakening your gag reflex, you hold it down, choking around his cock. 

“Fuuuuuck, that feels good,” he groans, throwing his head back. With shallow thrusts, he works your throat open. Your one hand slides between your thighs as the other braces against Joel’s thick thigh. Right now, you’re relieved you’re wearing your favorite flannel pajama shorts instead of something uncomfortable like jeans. “That’s it, touch yourself, sweetheart. I want you to come while I’m fuckin’ your throat.” You whine filthily at his words, pressing your fingers between your clothed folds, you stroke your aching clit. Joel doesn’t stop running his mouth. “You must be soaked down there, poor thing.” 

Tears sting the corner of your eyes and you manage to slip your fingers down your shorts. His thrusts become rougher, sliding all the way out before fucking himself even deeper into your mouth, down your throat. You swallow helplessly around him and the groan that slips from between his lips forces the clench of your cunt, you breathe heavily through your nose and draw vicious circles around your clit. 

“Look at you—you like me fuckin’ your mouth, honey?” You nod, his lips curling in the most devastating way. “You gonna come while rubbing that pretty pussy of yours?” 

You nod again, this time accompanied by a moan. The reverberations of the sound trembles against his sensitive cock and he rocks into your mouth harder—this time tears do slip past your fluttering lashes. You can’t breathe, your vision is blurry, yet this is everything you’ve ever wanted. Your heart feels so full, so content. He fucks every thought out of your head, overwhelming your senses.  

“Shit, shit, shit—Don’t look like that, sweetheart, don’t cry, if you do I—I’ll—” Spit trickles down the corner of your lips, everything a wet, sopping mess. With every thrust, he manages to go down your throat, his mouth constantly muttering words you can barely hear. More tears flow freely down your cheeks, mixing with the saliva and precome going down your neck. His hips move in a constant stammering motion, balls heavy on your chin as he snaps shallowly into your throat without pulling back. 

You look up to him. Your eyes shining and glimmering, Joel meets your gaze, his eyes going wide, hips stilling—

He spills down your throat, hard. 

You swallow, swallow, and swallow, gulping everything that he gives. But it’s still not enough, there’s too much, some of it spilling from the sides from where his cock stretches your lips. Your body jerks, your fingers move slowly around your clit and you press harder, your feel the warm slick dripping down your fingers, making a mess of the rug underneath. 

“Sorry, sorry—” Joel mutters over and over again almost like a chant. His voice hoarse as his chest raises with quick shallow breaths. He then lets out a deep exhale, his cock throbbing in your mouth as he pulls out. “I wanted to last longer.” 

You kiss the tip of his spent cock, “Come here,” you mumble and he quickly drops down, you take his hand, pulling it between your legs. His eyes snap to yours, pupils eating away the color as he presses two fingers into your soaked cunt. Your eyes roll and your hips immediately grind down. “I came too. I came from you fucking my mouth, Joel. That’s how good it felt. You don’t need to apologize.” 

“Fuck, you’re really makin’ it hard to stay soft darlin’.” You smile as you cup his flaccid cock, feeling the weight of it in your palm, he hisses. “You’re gonna pay for teasin’ me, neighbor. ‘Should take you on my fuckin’ knee as punishment.” 

A fresh gush of wetness spreads around his fingers, “I think I would like that,” you say, kissing his neck. “But now I think I should actually finish sketching you for my painting.” 

“I don’t think I have much strength left in my legs,” he says with a chuckle. 

“Who said anything about standing?” you stand up, taking him with you. “I’m going to paint something else and for that, I want you on the bed.” 

You hadn't realized how much paint you managed to cover yourself in when you were pouring purple and red down Joel's shoulders.

He actually managed quite well when you asked him to lay on the bed instead of standing, and you’re fairly certain he dozed off for a moment or two. You didn’t mind. You loved how the painting had ended up, a sensual silhouette of a working man sleeping with sun cascading down his skin. 

“Surprise surprise, pourin’ paint on me got you dirty too,” Joel coos playfully, following you into the dimly lit bathroom. He stuffs your bedsheets into the washing machine, your eyes catch the smear of red and purple paint. “Want us to take a shower beautiful? We still have time until Sarah comes back from school.” 

“Someone’s cheerful now that they’ve taken their nap.” Joel holds you by the waist and pulls you close, unlike him, you’re still fully clothed—dirty, but clothed. His cock presses against the swell of your stomach. 

“I’m mighty tired of bein’ the only one bearin’ my naked ass,” he tugs off your shirt, the motion so quick that your protest dissolves on your tongue before it can materialize. “Also you owe me a nice back scrub with all those fancy soaps you have.” 

“I thought I paid my depth when you came down my throat.” 

“I don’t recall sayin’ exactly how much you owed me for this.” 

Your lips split into a grin. Without moving away, you bend over and slip out of your shorts, throwing them towards the washing machine. The flickering lustful specks in his eyes make your heart jump, they look like gold. Despite coming down your throat about forty minutes ago, he still wants you. He’s not tired of spending time with you, talking to you, humoring you in your endeavors— he’s not even mildly annoyed, which is something you thought everyone would feel eventually if they spent enough time with you. It was only a matter of when. 

You suddenly slap your palms softly against his cheeks, cradling his scruffy cheeks. His eyes rip away from your naked body to meet your gaze. You take in a slow breath. And out. Your heart rams painfully within your chest. Joel’s eyes widen slightly as he takes in your expression, observing you slowly as if he’s tasting what you’re feeling like aged wine. His fingers slither around your wrist and sliver down your forearms. 

“Darlin’?” 

“I love you, Joel.” 

His lips part, not with surprise, but with relief. You’re smiling giddily now, not a feeling of worry in your bones, just happiness, eagerness. You don’t care if it’s too early. Too late. It’s what you feel. And all you feel is love love love. 

“I love you too, Tea.” 

Joel brings your palm to his lips and kisses the curve of it slowly, he moves up to the middle, his mustache tickling you when he lays another kiss, “I love you so fuckin’ much.” 

You close the distance, slanting your lips together, you drink him. His lips move to the beat of the moment, tickling down tenderly and smoothly like molasses. Joel’s tongue traces the seam of your lips and you open up for him. He tastes you quickly before pulling back. He exhales deeply, his breath fanning your swollen lips. 

“Let’s get cleaned up.” 

You grin, raising an eyebrow, “So you can get me dirty again?” 

“Somethin’ like that,” he huffs. 

Joel leads you to the tub, acting as if you’re his guest and not the other way around. He turns on the shower, allows the water to run down his fingers until the temperature is just right, and then carefully helps you step in. You moan happily at the way warm water moves down your skin, softening your body and chipping away at the paint. Joel stands right behind you. You want to turn around, clean him of the colorful mess, but he doesn’t budge. His hands touch your shoulders, then skims down. 

“You first,” he murmurs, fingers washing away the paint. You lean back. His hands follow a trail to your front, kneading your breasts. 

“I don’t have any paint there,” you hum. 

“My bad, these eyes aren’t what they used to be.” 

He gives them another squeeze before going lower and lower. . .  until he’s pushing his hand between your pressed tighs. You laugh, “I definitely don’t have any paint there.” 

His teeth suddenly sink into your shoulder. The blossoming pain makes you gasp and your body reacts by bending over, rolling your hips towards him. With a soft growl, Joel grips your hips and pushes you up against the glass panel. You moan with your breasts pressing firmly against the glass, the constant shower of water making you slip. 

Joel’s lips touch your ear, “Gonna fuck you with my fingers,” he rasps. “Want you to come all around them, sweetheart.” 

Your body flushes from the inside out, “What if I can’t?” 

“You don’t have a choice,” he pushes forward, notching his cock between your folds, you whimper. “If you want me to fuck you with this cock, you better show me how desperate you are for it by makin’ a mess, honey.” 

When you don’t answer he grips your neck and forces your head back, he kisses your forehead, “Are you gonna be good for me?” 

Your stomach bottoms out, “Y—Yes, I’ll be good.” 

He kisses your forehead once more before releasing you. You fall forward with a whimper, bracing your hands against the slippery panels. Joel slides two fingers inside of you with embarrassing ease, “You like it when I’m rough,” he states, thrusting the digits in and out. You nod. “I love you,” he then says, catching you but surprise. You clench around his fingers and he chuckles darkly. “God, you’re gonna make me go insane—I love you—” 

You clench again, a loud moan dropping from your lips. The sounds you make are drowned by the water, yet he can hear you crystal clear. Your body reacts viscerally to his words, a flame that won’t ever go out burning wild in your gut—between your legs. He whispered the words into your skin, into your mouth, against your tongue. You push against his fingers, urging him to go deeper. He does. He holds you by the neck while fucking you with thick fingers, you cry out his name, whimpering those three little words that make him go inside just as much as it does to you. 

“Come for me,” he grunts. “Come for me so I can fuck you for real.” 

“J–Joel, fuck—” 

Your back arches, your orgasm rips from you, he takes it. It’s violent, earth shattering. 

Your jaw drops as he squeezes your throat lightly, the pressure adding to the intensity. You can vaguely hear him muttering ‘That’s it’ over and over, but you can barely hear the rasp of his voice. 

Joel kisses your cheek, drags his lips down your neck, “How’re you feelin’?” 

“Good. . . great actually.” 

Pulling out his fingers, he pushes them between your lips, you lap at them hungrily. While you’re busy devouring your own taste, Joel buries himself deep in your cunt. You whimper around his fingers, brows furrowing with pleasure. He pulls the digits out and grips your chin. His chest heaves as he pulls almost all the way out before snapping forward again, burying himself into the tight warmth of your pussy. 

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he mumbles, rocking back and forth. With every thrust, your lungs convulse. You desperately grip his forearm, but your fingers slip thanks to the water droplets that surround his skin, him letting out a sudden chuckle before pulling you towards his mouth. “Sorry, sweetheart, I don’t think I’m gonna last long now either. You make me feel like a teenager again.” 

Throwing your arm back, you tug the damp locks and force your lips together. You lick hungrily into his mouth. Joel moans loudly and you swallow every little sound he makes, your cunt fluttering and clamping around his length. He pounds into you sloppily, no coordination, no calculation—just need. 

To be wanted. To be devoured. What a wonderful feeling it was.  

Joel pulls out with a grunt, you hear the slick sounds of his fist as he jerks himself over the curve of your spine. You shudder when you feel it. Warm spend trickling down your skin, mixing with the water. He spreads your ass cheeks and pushes them together with his cock between them, he grinds once—twice, before heaving and dropping his head between your shoulder blades. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, but you hear no regret behind the apology. It makes you glad. 

“Don’t be,” you turn and pick up the shower head, holding it right over his shoulders, you wipe the remaining paint away. Your stomach growls in protest, your lips twitch into a crooked smile. “God, all that worked an appetite. I’m starving.” 

“Want me to cook you somethin’?” 

Spraying the water over his other shoulder, you meet his gaze. He’s so sweet like this. His hair wet, curling at the ends. His body finally relaxed. You can’t help yourself and quickly press your lips into the corner of his jaw. 

“I have a watermelon in the fridge, you can cut that up for me.” 

“‘Course, darlin’. Anythin’ for you.” 

Crickets chirp loudly. The wind pleasant, yet a bit too warm for your liking. You fan yourself with a hand as you lean back into the chair. Despite just taking a shower, you’re nearly dry. Summer is definitely not a good season for you. 

“Should I be offended you look so miserable right now?” Joel asks, sitting next to you. He bites into one of the watermelon slices and when a drop of sweet nectar escapes, he makes quick work of licking himself clean. You swallow, your insides pulsing. 

“No,” you sigh. “I just don’t like the heat very much.” 

“Well. . that might be a problem considering summer is basically here.” 

You groan and throw your head back, “Don’t remind me.” 

“Here,” he says, extending you a slice. “Eat.” 

You take the slice without objection, biting into the fleshy fruit. The cold juice of the watermelon feels good as it goes down your throat. You look over to the lawn, thanks to the heat most things have dried out. 

“I helped him a lot you know,” Joel says, his voice soft, as if afraid to spook you. “With the garden that is. He talked a lot about you.” 

“Did he now?” you muse, you chew the watermelon thoughtfully. Your eyes are glued to one of the butterflies in search of a flower. “I miss him.” 

“I know you do, sweetheart. I know. I wish I could ease your paint, but truthfully I have no idea how to do that.” 

“You do enough,” smiling, you turn to him and find that he’s already looking at you. “The silver lining is that I met you.” 

He parts his lips, eyes glossed over with emotion but before he can, both of you hear small steps approaching at the same time. 

“Oh, watermelon,” Sarah chirps, throwing her backpack to the floor. “Don’t mind if I do.” 

She takes a slice and sits down, eyes flitting between you and Joel. You try not to look at Joel then, your heart beating a bit too loudly for your liking. Sarah raises an eyebrow and locks her eyes with Joel, their expressions are similar when they’re about to wreak havoc. 

“What?” Joel snaps, angrily sinking his teeth into his watermelon, finishing it off. Both you and Sarah laugh, your heart feeling a bit lighter now. 

“Oh, nothin’,” Sarah rolls her tongue, mimicking her dad. “What have you two been up to?” 

“Your dad was helping me with the kitchen sink,” you answer quickly. “It’s been leaking all morning.” 

“If my dad is good at anything, it’s fixing stuff.” 

“I’m good at a lot of things,” Joel grumbles. 

“How was school?” you ask. 

Sarah’s shoulders fall a bit, but she quickly shakes it off and smiles, “It was good, nothing interesting happened.” 

You raise an eyebrow but don’t pry. Joel doesn’t seem to notice Sarah’s mood change. “We should better head off,” he says.

“But I’m still eating,” Sarah whines. “Can’t we stay a bit longer?” 

“We don’t wanna overstay our welcome.” 

You almost laugh at such an absurd thing. Him, overstaying his welcome? Never. But you also understand why he does it. Sarah is smart and by the looks she was giving you and him, she’s probably already suspicious. 

“You guys should take half of it,” you say, standing up. “I’m only one person anyway. If I eat this much watermelon I’ll end up growing one inside of me.” 

Both of them look at you deadpanned, you laugh, “You both have no humor!” 

Sarah turns to Joel, “Dad, I think you might wanna check if her water is laced with something.” 

“I think you’re right, baby girl,” Joel nods seriously. “There’s no other reason she would find that funny.” 

“If you guys keep that up I’m not giving you squat.” 

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am,” they say at the same time. 

You shake your head, snorting at the father and daughter duo. Both of them were ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. 

However, you can’t seem to stop smiling as you head inside to get them a container to put the slices into. 

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #joel miller smut #stay in bed series #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #scheduled

[elissanatok]

-𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄

pairing: Aemond targaryen x velaryon! (strong!) reader

summary: Aemond has loved and secretly claimed you for himself since the day you were born. losing his eye changed him, but maybe it did not affect his feelings for you as much as he thought it had

warnings: english is not my first language, angst, fluff, shy reader, unclexniece, possesive aemond, everybody adores reader in this

wordcount:

might do more parts to this

let me know what you think!! reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback are highly appreciated <33

You and Aemond always had a complicated relationship. Growing up together there had been nothing he thought he could ever love more than you. He had always been possessive in a gentle way.

He loved to hug your smaller body until you smelled like him. He wanted to sleep with you, in the most innocent way a boy could think of. He wanted to twirl your brown locks in his fingers and see your eyes when you woke up. He loved to teach you all the things you didn't know yet. You were his and he was yours. That was the end of the story- to him. 

You had always been a shy girl. Your lilac eyes often looking at the ground instead of the people. Being with people stressed you sometimes and letting them near you even more. But you knew Aemond, he was family after all. And he had never, one day in his life, treated you like anything but the future queen - that you weren't. 

It had been a warm day, your red dress had felt entirely too warm. The hand holding Daemons had been sweating, making you rub it on the fabric of your clothes repeatedly. Still you were grinning up at him, giggling when he playfully shoved you again and again. He had never bothered treating you like anything but his own. You were his little sun. 

But not only he and Aemond thought of you highly. Your brothers loved you like they thought no one else ever could. They were always protecting you, always touching you in a comforting way - and the white haired prince hated it. 

He hated it when you were a little girl, and you only belonged to him in his mind and in the soft jokes of the royal family, who could see how taken the boy was with you, and he hated it years later, when you had returned to him.

Never had he thought a single look at you could still have this effect on him. He remembered the night things changed, when he lost his eye, when you left, crying and clawing at his Uncle's back, because you did not want things to change. That night you woke up to yelling in the halls. The sound of many voices frightened you, but you still followed them, hearing the names of your brothers and uncles. Your brown haired head glanced around the corner, your violet eyes searching for anybody you could cling to. But your eyes had fallen on the now one eyed prince instead. You gasped, tears already pooled in your eyes. “Come here little dragon.”Daemon called softly, but your feet took you straight to Aemond. He remembered how he turned his head away from you, from the look on your face that showed him you didn't understand anything. The next thing he remembered was the Queen coming at you with a knife. You screamed, trying to hide behind Aemond and Aegon.

You could see the regret on Alicents face the moment she realized she was going to hurt you. “Aemond.”, you cried after Aegon softly, quietly explained what had happened. The older prince looked ashamed, tired. But the younger prince, your Aemond wouldn't even look at you. And he regretted it shortly after, because he would not be able to look at you for a long time.

#aemond targaryen #aemond imagine #aemond x fem!reader #aemond fic #hotd #aegon ii targaryen x you #ewan mitchell #jacerys strong #aegon ii targaryen #aemond stannies #aemond x y/n #aemond smut #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond x you

[somerandomdudelmao]

I just- I just love how mikey went from a young man who was being worn out by the war.

You showed a young looking Mikey, who was able go keep young as long as he had his brothers and then, he lost half of them and then war became hevier, their home was disappeared, everything was going worse faster and faster and he was on survival mode, he looked everytime more tired and older.

And then, in his death bed, he feels old, tired, broken, but he goes in protective mode because no one is going to hurt the last of his family without realizing he was too hurt to do anything because it really didn't matter. But they came to save them, to save him, and he feels a little more like a child, and he looks casey and he tellshim the complications and he's as old as he feels, knowing what he's gonna do to save them both because leo would never leave him behind and neither would he, and then, he wakes up, with fear and fight, just to be hugged like a child by his big brother.

I just love this so much, I did went back to read read the entire chapter again and I got all of these feelings. I do not know if I capture something that wasn't meant but I really loved this. Thank you very much

I'm really glad you caught this..feeling? Vibe? I don't know how to call it, but yes. I'm happy that you can see it:3

[misguidedasgardian]

The Winter Sun (EPILOGUE 1)

Into the Future

MASTERLIST

Summary: Years went by in Winterfell 

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Fem!Targaryen Reader 

Warnings: Cursing, medieval and asoiaf customs, AGE GAP, Cregan is 12 years OLDER than reader), arranged marriage, mentions of SMUT, childbirth, complication in childbirth, might contain triggering content, might miss some warnings

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3 k

Notes: Well… Sara did say she saw six puppies

The vibe around the Lords and Ladies of the North wasn’t nice when you returned from King’s Landing, with your white haired baby in your arms

Many started saying that you had returned to Aemond willingly, and you had given birth to his child, since Jonaerys was clearly a Valyrian like you, and like the Kinslayer.

But things stopped and improved when you gave birth to your third child, a year after you came back to Winterfell, also a boy, who looked very similar to his brother, only with the colors of his father, dark locks of hair, and icy gray eyes. A true looking Northerner.

You named him Torrhen

Torrhen Stark

Cregan would walk proudly in the hallways of Winterfell and all over with his sons in his arms, Rickon trotting behind him as he grew up, and three direwolves following close behind.

But only one dragon hatched from all the eggs Vhaelar bring forth, Jonaerys’ egg. it took months after you came back, and a dragon keeper had to move in Winterfell to take care of Vhaelar and her hatchling.

Jonah’s dragon was so different from everything you had ever seen before, it was black, with silvery white markings, and big gray eyes. his flames were icy blue, as Vhaelar’s were bluish with purple flare 

When Torrhen was 1, you suffered through another winter by then, and as it became some sort of “tradition”, Cregan got you pregnant with what you truly wished was a girl…

But it wasn’t 

You bring forth a baby with dirty blonde hair, and when he opened his eyes you saw with amazement he had one purple eye and the other gray, he was like Alyssa, your grandmother, who had similar features, you often wonder where he came from, he looked nothing like you or Cregan, but your husband was ecstatic 

You wanted a Valyrian name for your peculiar child, and Cregan compromised in naming him Orys, like the rumored bastard brother of Aegon the Conqueror

Orys Stark 

So Rickon was 5, Jonaerys 4, Torrhen two and a half, and Orys 1 year old, when you got pregnant again.

After Cregan’s begging

You believed you were done, you loved your children very much and you were begging for a little girl, that never came, so you believed you were done, you had four beautiful children with your loving husband

But you couldn’t deny anything to those beautiful Gray eyes 

So you held your big belly as you awaited Sara’s arrival.

Sara had fallen in love with Cregan’s best friend, who had come to Winterfell four years ago to grieve for the loss of his wife, and he fell in love with her. Ben Tallheart, so they married, Sara became a loving stepmother to a beautiful little girl who was now five years old, and they lived happily in Torrhen’s square, hence the name of your baby boy.

“Sister!”, she screeched, hugging you tightly around your belly

“Sister”, you whispered happily in her ear, Cregan just stood there, amused that Sara would always greet you first, but then he hugged his sister dearly

“Missed you”, it was true, you had missed her so dearly, the castle seemed almost empty without her in it

After warm greetings, Cregan took his friend so both of them could talk, while you took Sara who was so excited to see her baby nephews, who had multiplied in the last years. You went into the nursery, where they were all gathered, the four of your children, it was Orys nap time 

Rickon and Jonaerys hugged her tightly, running to her arms; they have gotten so big, Torrhen followed shortly after.

Sara was playing on the floor with her nephews, with their wooden figurines, as you sat on a long chair, rubbing your belly, you were super tired, you always were

“How is the pregnancy going?”, she asked

“It's different this time”, you confessed, Sara looked at you, gray eyes wide open

“What do you mean?”, she asked, you only shook your head, looking down at your huge belly

“I’ve been so tired”, you whispered, “I can barely eat, I feel awful”, she looked at you determinedly, “my belly is huge”

“What are you saying?”, she asked gently, you only shook you head

“I don’t feel as strong as I did before”, she looked concerned, as she was trying hard to remember something

“I'm sure everything's going to be alright” she said with a calming smile, you smiled back as you caressed your big belly.

You weren’t bluffing, you realized you were pregnant because of how much you threw up, you could barely find something to eat that didn’t make you sick 

Cregan hunted everything he could get his hands on, and Thelma cooked everything with different spices each time, but to no avail, everything made you sick, all the meats, so THelma fought hard to cook you legumes and different pies with vegetables.

Even so…

You still felt really weak.

This wasn’t like all your pregnancies before, and Cregan seemed truly concerned for you. He was over you at all times, tending you, caring for you, like your very first pregnancy with Rickon. 

And now Sara wouldn't take her eyes off of you now, always watching what you ate.

Your baby was restless, kicking you always, and you immense belly, sometimes you felt like you had a real dragon inside you womb, with more than four extremities 

But right after that thought, memories of all those Targaryen women who lost their babies, and what came out of them were truly dragon-like babies, and then you shook your head, wanting to purge those dark thoughts out of your mind.

But you had to be strong, you had to be, you had already given birth to four! FOUR babies, and everything went well, this was not going to be the exception

The night found you in the great hall, holding a feast for your guests, with Sara and Ben, and everyone really in the castle.

“I have an announcement to make”, Ben spoke, as he raised from his chair, raising his cup. “First I want to thank our gracious hosts”, he said, pointing at you and Cregan, who held your hand tightly. “For receiving us, and now… I want to say that the Lady of Torrhen Square and I are proud to announce that we are expecting our first child!”, he said, and the hall broke out with cheers and applause

You hugged Sara tightly

“I’m so happy for you!”, you greeted, and she laughed in your ear

“Thank you!”, as Cregan was hugging Ben, and then he turned 

“My beautiful sister”, whispered Cregan happily, hugging her tightly, you hugged Ben then

That made Cregan’s spirit rise for the coming days, and Sara and Ben agreed to stay here in Winterfell until she gave birth, meaning… six whole months, and you couldn’t be happier

The castle seemed to roar with life since then.

Rickon, Jonaerys and Eddara, Ben’s daughter, played through the hallways, and they were always filled with giggles and laughter 

And your belly got bigger and bigger, and you grew tired and tired 

Everytime Cregan looked at you, it was like his heart was broken, you knew he was afraid, you were becoming paler, and tired by the day.

At night you would beg him to make love to you, and he would, that made you happy, as he spoon you with him deep inside you as he cradled your big belly, he would kiss every inch of your body with devotion, and hugged you through the night. 

“Can’t wait to meet this baby”, he whispered sweetly in your ear

“Me too”, you said back, “perhaps it is finally a girl”, you teased

“Oh what I would give for a daughter that looks like you”, he whispered back, nuzzling his nose into your hair 

“She would be pretty cute, wouldn’t she?”, you kept teasing

“She would”, he whispered, “thank you”, he whispered

“for what?”, you asked back

“For everything”, he said back, “you brought me back to life, you gave me four beautiful boys, you turned Winterfell into a home”

“Well, you are very welcome”, you giggled, you turned around to meet him, and you kissed him lovingly, “thank you too, you did helped in everything you just mentioned”, and he chuckled against your lips

“I did my part”, he kept teasing, as you cuddled into the night.

The very next day, Cregan was outside, with Ben, you believed they went into the wolf’s wood to hunt, when your water broke

Immediately a pain shot through you like a lightning bolt, making you cry out. 

The pain was blinding, it wasn’t a contraction it was something else, something else entirely, and besides, you were certain the nine moons haven't completed yet. Soon people entered the room, maids, followed by Sara, immediately they held you, trying to prevent you from collapsing into the stone floor of your rooms

“It hurts!”, you cried

“Call the midwife, NOW”, screamed Sara, “find my brother”, but the pain was so blinding you couldn’t quite pay attention to what was going on around you

You felt your dress being ripped away from your body, a night shift placed instead, soft and light as a feather, and then you were laid in the bed softly. 

The contractions began shortly after, and it was hurting so much you couldn’t have a real grasp on reality anymore.

A young man, who worked at the stables was sent to find Cregan, he knew the woods by the palm of his hand, so he didn’t have trouble finding the hunting party.

“MY LORDS”, it took only that scream, for Cregan to know it was about you, and considering the state you were in, that you had gone into labor

Nobody could reach him as he mounted his horse and started galloping without stopping. He rode back to Winterfell at an incredible speed, jumped off his horse and ran inside the castle.

He ran  towards your room and he could hear the screams from the second floor.

His heart got tight inside of his chest, and he found you struggling, the bed soaked in your blood, he had never been so scared in his life, not even when the war happened. 

He was at your side in a second, he grasped your hand in his and started at you wide eyed

“Darling, I’m here”

“Cregan”, you called, “It hurts”

“i know my love, I know”, he soothed, looking at the midwives who looked at each other with worried glances

It was bad, he knew it, everybody knew it, at one point, the midwives didn’t know what to do so they called in the maester who gave you milk of the poppy to clear, rather, distract your mind from the pain

It did help, when it took effect, you received the command

“Push my lady”

And you did, gods you did, with all your strength.

It was bloody, it was painful, it was worrying, but after two hours, the room was filled with the cries of a babe

“A little girl M’lord!”, chanted the midwife, receiving the crying child into the world

Cregan sighed loudly, with relief, squeezing your hand back, as he looked at the midwife cleaning a little baby with pitch black hair, he had a daughter.

But this wasn’t over yet, you cried in agony again, and Cregan looked down at you, still grasped in the claws of pain. 

“The afterbirth?”, he asked, but the maester shook his head, seeming horrified

“No, I think…”

“It's another babe”, said the midwife, as he give the little baby girl to his father, who was wide-eyed, not knowing if to be relieved, or scared to death, he looked down at the face of his little daughter and caressed her little head.

But when he looked at you he was so scared, you were shaking with pain, blood oozing out of you, he whimpered

“I think the baby is breached”, the midwife whined, like she was in the same state of horror

Hours went by

You were in a state of such pain your eyes were closed and you couldn’t scream anymore, you just whined softly.

Cregan was in the corner of the room, her daughter in his arms, but he just looked ahead, scared to death, his worry was such that he believed he was going to age centuries.

The maester whispered in the corner with the midwife, as her assistants were each by your side, whispered words of comfort, rubbing your belly hoping to push the baby out themselves 

“You need to be strong My lady”, whispered one, a young sweet girl, “think of your children, they need you, those sweets boy, and your baby girl”

you only got to nod, that phrase seemed to be the only thing that could pierce through the cloud of pain and milk of the poppy. Using the last of your strength, you leaned in, and pushed, again, the thought of your husband and children spurred you on, your baby, still inside of you, needed to make it out.

The midwife saw your intent and was with you in a second

Cregan gave his baby girl to the maester, and was also with you.

“You can do this love, please”, he begged, “please…”

It was another hour, you had been at this for six whole hours, when another cry was heard in the room.

Another little girl

With hair white as ice, and reddened face.

Then it came the afterbirth, but for that, you couldn’t no longer feel anything at all

The maids washed you and changed the sheets, you were breathing steadily, but you were barely conscious.

Cregan had his new baby girl in his arms, his dream came true, she did look like you, but the maester was telling him you had lost a lot of blood, that you could no longer have any more children… if you ever woke up… 

Sara had heard anything, but she was with your other children

“What is happening, where is mama?”, asked Jonaerys, he was a sensitive boy, he felt everything

“She is giving birth to the baby, sweet boy”, she whispered, as she cradled Orys in her arms hoping to made him sleep

“She is taking too long”, he whispered, his eyes filled with tears

Rickon came and hugged his brother

“She will be alright, she is mommy”, he said back, Sara looked as the sweet boys hugged themselves 

“Her vision had never wrong before, you were going to pull out of this

But Cregan was scared, very, very scared

The maids had called in wetnurses from the village, and they took both his daughters with them. 

He just stood by your side

As the maester else him with the promise that if you made it out tonight, you were going to regain your strength

“Please don’t leave me”, he whispered, his tears choking him, “please, I beg of you”, he begged like a prayer, holding your hand, “you give me all I ever dreamed of, you deserve to enjoy it by my side, our beautiful children, our six children you gave me”, he said with teary eyes, “please my love, I will follow you soon after, please don’t abandon me, our children need you, I need you, please”

He was seated on a chair he needed right next to the bed, and laid his head by your side, still holding your hand.

He stayed there all night, right next to you, hearing your faint breaths.

It was early in the morning, when you squeezed his hand back, and he cried in relief.

. . .

Two weeks passed, and you had recuperated your strength. Cregan brought you your girls as soon as you woke up, and spent the night with the four of you, after eating plentifully. 

One of your daughters had the northerner features, while the other was a Valyrian just like you, you named them Robyn and Rhaenys, the latter in honor of your dear aunt, who had been like a mother to you. 

“They are in very good health, My Lords”, said the maester, you smiled widely, looking at your daughters, who were both of them awake, laid on your bed, and wiggling happily, “although”

You and Cregan both snapped your head to look at the maester

“Although?”, you asked fearful, you then looked at your babies

“Little Rhaenys, I think there is something wrong”, your eyed immediately filled with tears

The old man showed you, he clapped his hand near Robyn, and she blinked her eyes and squirmed because of the loud noise, but he repeated the same thing near Rhaenys, and she barely reacted

“What does it mean?”, you whined, Crregan held you

“She might be deaf, my lady”, he whispered, Cregan held you against his chest. As you cried, scared of what that could mean. 

“Does that mean she can’t hear?”, asked RIckon, you wiped your tears immediately, and your two eldest sons entered the room. Torrhen still didn’t know what was going on, and Orys was still a baby.

“That is right boy”, Cregan was strong, as he smiled to his eldest son

“We will create a cool language with our hands so we can speak to her, then”, Rickon said like it wasn’t a big deal. And you laughed wholeheartedly, hugging and kissing your son. 

Now you had your six puppies, everything was going to be alright. With your growing family, and Sara, and Cregan’s best friends

And a huge feast they threw in King’s Landing in your honor. 

taglist!

@severewobblerlightdragon @missusnora @stargaryenx @poppyreader @chainsawsangel @court-jester-stuff @batprincess1013 @eddiepicker 

@lyannesworld @arujee @kamisunshine @​​mss-nthng @partypoison00 @grimistangel @elleclairez @may-machin @prettykinkysoul @justagurlwithships @champomiel 

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#misguidedwinter #cregan stark x reader #cregan #cregan x you #cregan x reader #cregan stark #hbo house of the dragon #house targaryen #house stark #house of the dragon #targaryen!oc #targaryen!reader

[ladykailitha]

Grief (A Friend Indeed) Part 3

Hello, hello. I am so grateful for the amount of support this story has gotten. It's been plotted out, it just needs to get written up. I'm not sure how long it's going to be, but if I know anything about myself, LONG.

Part 1 Part 2

***

Pulling into the truck stop was the hardest thing Eddie had ever done and he faced down dozens of demobats. He slowed to a stop, tires crunching on the gravel.

Thankfully Wayne was already there and waiting for them. He gently shook Steve awake.

“Hey,” he murmured. “You need to get up and walk around. Get the blood flowing again.”

Steve blinked at him blearily. “Yeah, okay.”

Eddie shook his head and climbed out the car. He walked over to Wayne as Steve stumbled out and onto the dust filled gravel.

“Your boy okay?” Wayne asked, watching Steve walk into the bathroom.

Eddie looked back at his friend and then back to him. “I don’t think so. But I don’t know how to fix it.”

Wayne just shook his head. “Don’t you be thinking about fixing shit, son. He’ll let you in when he’s ready. Just be there for him. That’s all you need to do.”

Eddie sighed. “I’m the one on my way to a fucking funeral but Steve seems like he’s grieving more than I am.”

“You told me last night that he had family in Kentucky?” Wayne asked.

He nodded. “I don’t know if any of Steve’s mom’s family is left, but his grandma used live in Lexington before she died when he was little.”

Wayne hummed. “Your dad went to school with Clint Harrington, a pleasure I thankfully missed out on, having already graduated by the time our parents moved to Indiana. I stayed in Kentucky until a social worker showed up on my doorstep with you. You were used to living in Indiana at that point so I moved out there. Went back to the town your grandparents raised Al to raise you.”

Eddie frowned. “Then how did Grandma move back to Kentucky?”

“After your grandfather died,” Wayne explained, “he wanted to buried in the family plot. She fully intended to move back to Hawkins to help with you, but she fell and broke her hip.”

Eddie sighed. “And since you were already taking care of me, it was Aunt Penny that took her in?”

Wayne nodded. “All this to say that family is complicated. And grief is a funny thing. You can think you’re over it and something: a smell, a piece of a song, a person walking down the street and suddenly it’s as fresh as the day it happened.”

He knew. He felt that way about his mom all the time. Sometimes it was as simple as picking up her old guitar and strumming a note. Sometimes it would something one of the kids did or said. He knew.

“I wish I hadn’t asked him to come,” he groused.

“I don’t,” Wayne said fiercely. “I think we all need this trip for one reason or another.”

Steve walked back out of the gas station looking a little more lively. Eddie waved and Steve smiled, breaking into a jog to join them.

“Hey,” he said a little winded. “You didn’t have to let me sleep like that.”

Eddie smiled back. “Nah, you needed it.” He pulled Steve’s keys out of his pocket and tossed it to him. “It’s your turn to drive.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, okay.”

“Eddie was just telling me your mom came from Kentucky,” Wayne said gently.

Steve smile faltered a bit. “From Lexington. She’s a Lexington Kincade.”

Wayne blinked a moment. “Holy shit, son. When you said you were wealthy I didn’t realize you meant that kind of money.”

Steve shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t like talking about it. I haven’t seen that side of my family since I was little. Her two older brothers, one got the business, the other got the house, but my mom got all the money. They never forgave her for that.”

Wayne nodded. “Even though the house and the business were worth more than the cash, money makes good people go mad.”

Steve looked him in the eye. “I know.”

“Never said you didn’t, son,” he assured him. “I’m sure you know better than most. I’m just commiserating.”

“Thank you,” Steve murmured. “Most people try to tell me to stop whining about it. I can have whatever I want, so that means I can’t miss the simpler things.”

“Go get gassed up,” Wayne said with a smile, “and then we’ll hop back on the road.”

Steve nodded.

“And stay close behind me,” he warned. “I don’t want you getting lost. Ed knows the way but it’ll be better if you don’t beat me there, okay?”

“Outsiders get met with shot guns,” Steve muttered darkly. “I’m aware.”

He pounded Steve on the shoulder and slipped back into his truck. He watched as Steve and Eddie chatted as Steve filled up the car. They walked in together and were back out with more sodas.

When they were securely nestled in Steve’s BMW, Wayne pulled back out into traffic, Steve following close behind.

Every time he glanced in his review mirror, a small smile crept on his face. Those two boys were good for each other.

*

They pulled into a old white house with a large front porch. There was a beat up brass colored 1972 F150 on the lawn and dark blue Chevy Cavalier in the drive way.

The steps sagged and the paint was peeling. Steve was in love. He adored places like this. Because it was someone’s home and not just their house.

There was a woman standing on the front porch, leaning against the supports at the top of the stairs. Her hair was dark and straight, she had brown eyes and a round form. Steve could tell she had worked hard her whole life.

And without a doubt she was going to judge him for not having done the same.

Wayne and Eddie were by his side in an instant though, closing ranks against the woman on the porch. Which meant this was the fabled Aunt Penny.

Steve couldn’t help but wonder how in the hell did Wayne turn out the way he did with siblings like Penny and Al.

“Penny,” Wayne greeted.

“Wayne,” she greeted back dryly. “I wasn’t too keen about you bringing a stranger along. Still can’t say I am on the sight of him.”

Steve popped his hip. “Oh bless your heart, I didn’t realize that I had to be blood-related to want to be there for Eddie and Wayne in their time of mourning.”

Wayne’s eyes went wide as he slowly turned to Steve with his whole body.

Eddie’s jaw dropped before he began cackling.

Penny looked him up and down again. “You’ll do.” And walked back into the house.

“Boy, you got a death wish?” Wayne asked after his sister went inside.

Steve scoffed. “No, but I wasn’t going to let her set the tone for this trip. If I didn’t stick up for myself now, she would spend the trip walking over me, and I haven’t been through hell to have some woman completely unrelated to me be that fucking rude.”

Eddie clasped his hands to his chest and fluttered his eyelashes at Steve. “My hero!” He swooned against the car causing Steve to laugh.

“Come on, you menace,” he said shaking his head fondly. He held out his hand to help Eddie up, but he popped up like a daisy and swanned past him.

Wayne gripped Steve’s shoulder again. “She’s a tough old bird, my sister, but I think you’ll get along with her kids just fine.”

“You want to give me a rundown before I go charging into the hornets’ nest?”

He cocked his head to the side and then cheerfully chirped. “No.” He turned on his heel and walked into the house without preamble.

Steve shook his head. It was looking like it was going to be really long week.

*

Steve walked into a room that would have barely fit in his kitchen. But the furniture looked comfortable and the room itself, inviting.

What wasn’t so inviting was the glares he was getting from half the people in the room. These must be the cousins. There were three girls and a boy.

The oldest of the girls was a curly-haired redhead about his age or a little younger. But unlike the orange color of Max’s hair it was more like a rich auburn. It was piled on her freckled head in an untidy mass to try and beat the last of the summer heat. She wore a pair of cutoff jean shorts and a white t-shirt tied up under her chest.

The younger of the two girls and clearly the youngest, had dark hair and eyes. She looked to be Holly’s age. She wore a rainbow shirt and coveralls that had been drawn and colored on. Her hair was in two braids that did remind him of Max.

The only boy wore an expression that would have put Mike’s surly sneer to shame. Like his younger sister, his hair and eyes were dark, but his hair was curly like his older sister’s. He was in that awkward middle stage of growth where everything all at once too big and too small.

His style matched that of Eddie’s, ripped black jeans and band shirt that Steve couldn’t read the name of because of the swirling font. He knew Eddie would scoff at him about that later.

Eddie bounced up to Steve with a grin. “Let’s get you to a phone so you can call Robin.”

Steve nodded as Eddie led the way to the kitchen. They came back out a minute later and Eddie waved his arm at the assembled family.

“Stevie, these are the Nelsons. The Mike wannabe is Oliver, the cutie-patootie is Abigail, call her Gale, not Abby. She kicks.” Steve snorted. He could believe it. She reminded him a bit of Erica in that way. “And the eldest and smartest of my aunt’s brood is Lauren. She is the best person you’ll ever meet.”

Steve scoffed. “I think Robin would fight her for that title.”

Eddie laughed.

Oliver glared at him. “Who’s Mike?”

Steve looked him up and down. “He’s one of the kids I used to babysit. Smart kid with a barbed tongue. He’s in Eddie’s old club, Hellfire. Plays a level thirteen paladin.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, impressed.

Oliver rolled his eyes. “Yeah and just how old is this wizkid?”

“Fifteen,” Steve said with a shrug. “But I’m not sure he’s the smartest of his Party. Dustin built a CV tower from scraps in his basement. Then there’s Will who is a DM like Eddie. Really creative. Can paint and draw. And there’s Lucas. He’s just as smart as Mike, but he also helped his basketball team win the championship as a freshman. They all are in Hellfire, in fact.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes. “I don’t believe you. You just made them up.”

Eddie licked the top of his teeth slowly. “Nope, they’re really real.”

Steve pulled out his wallet and took out a picture. He handed it to Oliver. He pointed to each one in turn, naming them and then snatched the picture back.

“Why would you need to babysit?” Oliver asked, knowing he couldn’t win the argument about them being real. “I know designer clothes when I see them. You clearly don’t need the money.”

“I like kids, but especially those kids.”

Eddie smirked. “They like you, too.” He paused and tapped his lips for a second. “Well...except Mike.”

“Comes with dating his older sister at one point,” Steve said with a shrug.

“I still don’t know why you guys never could make it work,” Eddie said with a frown. It was something he couldn’t get out of... well, any of them really.

Steve looked down at the picture. He put it away and then pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed the end. “Her best friend died in my pool while we were dating. It was a party at my house. She blamed herself, but I think she mostly blamed me.”

The room went deathly silent. A pin landing on the soft carpet would have sounded like a bomb going off.

“Aaaannnddd...” Lauren said bouncing up from her chair, “that’s about enough of that.” She smacked the back of Oliver’s head. “You were begging for trouble with that one, dipshit.”

She grabbed Steve’s arm and started dragging him over to the sofa. “You’re going to come over here with me and tell me all about Robin so I can be the judge of who is more awesome and why it’s obviously me.”

Eddie breathed a sigh of relief as Lauren defused the situation. Because holy fucking shit. Now he knew why no one wanted to talk about it.

Wayne came up beside him. “Who’s he talking about, son?”

Eddie chewed on his lip. “I think he’s talking about Barb Holland. Nancy and her were pretty tight before she died.”

“Another bullshit cover up?” Wayne murmured.

Eddie nodded and Wayne nodded back.

“A boy that young shouldn’t have seen as much death as he has,” Wayne murmured.

Eddie could only agree. Especially from white-bred middle America.

***

Pt 4|Pt 5|Pt 6|Pt 7|Pt 8|Pt 9|Pt 10|Pt 11|Pt 12

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @gutterflower77 @genderless-spoon @hel-spawn

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #minor character death #dealing with grief

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Comfortable With You (Inexperienced!Painter!Choso x Black!Fem!Reader 18+ One Shot)

"I feel so comfortable with you."

Pairing: Choso x Black!Fem!Reader (Established Relationship)

Synopsis: Choso has never been anyone like you before: so confident and sure of yourself yet so sweet and compassionate. He can’t stop thinking about you. So to make this Valentine’s Day one you’ll never forget, he’ll show you just how comfortable he is with you and how desperately he wants to make you feel the same…even though you’re his first everything. [Based on the song “Comfortable” by H.E.R.]

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Inexperienced!Choso; Experienced!Reader; First Time PIV Sex; msub Switch!Choso; FDom Switch!Reader; First Time Blowjob; First Time Eating Pussy; Deepthroating; Facefucking; Girl on Top/Cowgirl; Fucking From the Bottom; Creampie; After Sex Snuggles

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: Something romantic & nasty for my baby Choso & for V-Day. Happy Valentine's Day, y'all!! 🥰🥰❤️❤️ -Jazz

**********

Choso has never met anyone like you before. 

You’re just so confident in the way you speak; the way you move; the way you carry yourself. You know exactly who you are and you aren’t going to let anyone tell you differently. You’re so sure of yourself, something he has never been about himself. You’ve inspired him to be more like you, gently encouraging him just because of who you are. 

And you’re so sweet. So compassionate. You care so much about others, even a stray cat that happens across your apartment whom you feed every day. You understand Choso and all of his quirks which he more than appreciates. And you’re so damn beautiful. Even now, months after meeting and going on your first date, months after your first kiss, he still can’t even over how breathtaking you are. From your glowing skin to your pretty, brown eyes to your luscious body he can’t get out of his mind. 

He still can’t understand for the life of him why you would want him. He isn’t like his younger twin brothers. Yuji is more of a golden retriever out of the three of them with how bubbly and adorably clueless he is, but he’s also excellent at sports and loves to have fun which any girl loves. And then there is Sukuna who is all tattoos, piercings, and a bad attitude that gets panties wet. He can sweet-talk any girl into his bed. 

And then there’s Choso. Although older than his twin brothers, he is the awkward one. The shy one. The artsy one. He is the one you’ll usually find with his nose stuck in his guitar or up painting in the apartment that he shares with his brothers, staining his fingers with oil paints. He has his own tattoos and usually, the artsy guys are adored, but his tired, bored look usually makes women steer clear of him. 

Choso had gotten used to it. He told himself he was happy to not be romantically involved with someone as it makes life too complicated and messy…until he met you.

He was working a Friday night shift at a bar which he usually does to make extra cash, strumming along on his guitar and singing covers. Your eyes met when he looked out into the audience and that was it. He still can’t describe what happened. It was like the world stopped and he very nearly forgot the words to the Summer Walker song he was crooning in the mic. 

You sat in the middle at the table with a couple of friends, your smooth, shapely legs crossed over one another, manicured hands folded in your lap. He could just see the space where your thigh met your ass under the mini dress you had on that hugged your body the way he wanted to. Your braids, black and perfectly twisted at the bottom like coiled snakes, were pulled back to show off your gorgeous face and plump, glossy lips parted slightly as you intently watched him sing. You never took your eyes off of him and he didn’t want you to. In his mind, he sang to you, but to the audience, he sang to everyone else. 

He didn’t expect you to come up to him during his break, body absolutely all over the place. He could barely focus on setting his guitar up next to the stage when he turned and saw you. “Hi,” you greeted him, giving him a beaming smile that made his brain stop working. “I don’t mean to bother you, but I wanted to tell you how good you were up there. You can really sing.” 

Choso didn’t say anything at first, not sure how. You were the first girl to ever talk to him first, especially about him and not about his brothers. “Uh…thanks,” he finally said, swallowing harshly. He did his best to not look down at your delectable cleavage that sat invitingly in front of him. 

“I’m Y/N,” you said, holding your hand out for a shake. He noticed how long and pretty your acrylics were and envisioned them gripping his shoulders or snaking down his muscular back. “I’m a regular here, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.” Hesitantly, he took your hand, noticing how small it was compared to his. “Choso,” he replied. “I don’t work here full-time. I take shifts now and again.” 

You nodded understandably. “I was about to say,” you giggled, “I would’ve definitely remembered a voice like yours…and a face like yours too.” There wasn’t anything funny about the way you said it. You were dead serious, your tone soft and flirtatious. Choso swore he nearly combusted. You were flirting with him. Him! All he could was blush, but you pretended not to notice. 

You stood there talking for the majority of his twenty-minute break and he didn’t mind one bit. He loved getting to know you, placing and storing all of your features into his memory for later. When you asked for his number, he flipped it and asked for yours, smiling fondly at the cute emoji you put next to your name. He left that night feeling like he was floating on cloud nine, prompting Sukuna to ask him what pussy he got when he came into the apartment that night. 

That was six months ago and you’re still here. Despite his flaws and his quirks, you have stayed. He has never been happier than with you…or more comfortable. There are things he’s told you that he hasn’t even told his brothers or closest friends. He feels like he can tell you anything and you won’t run, from how stressful it is to be a parental figure since his parents died when the twins were toddlers or how sometimes he’s afraid that he’ll lose interest in his art or how he doesn’t feel good enough. 

He feels like himself when he’s with you. He feels free. Relaxed. You bring him peace. He wants to give you something to show you that. Though he isn’t familiar with the “rules” of Valentine’s Day because he’s never celebrated the holiday, he knows he wants to make the day one you will never forget. 

So the week before February 14th, a Wednesday, Choso spends his time making his gift for you, closed up in his room with his equipment, and forcing his brothers to bring him meals.

That weekend, he invites you over to his place on Friday. When he calls and asks you if you’re free after work tonight, he feels his pulse jump and his body grow warm. What’s the big deal? You’ve been over his place so many times before, playing video games and shooting the shit with his brothers. 

‘But this is different,’ he thinks. This is for Valentine’s Day. This is to spend the night, with no one around for once. This is for more. “You want me to sleep over?” you ask, sounding surprised yourself. “Are the boys gonna be there?” 

“No,” he replies, smiling at the slight intake of breath he hears you make. So you’re just as excited as he is. “They won’t be here. I have a surprise for you.” 

“A surprise?” you giggle softly, the sound like music to his ears. “Can you give me a hint?” He hums a no, earning a groan of disappointment. “You’ll just have to wait and see, but I think you’ll like it.” 

On Saturday, he kicks his brothers out, telling them to bunk with Megumi for the night. Yuji and Sukuna are more than happy to do so, wanting to see Megumi’s dogs (though Sukuna acts like he isn’t). Then Choso spends the whole night cleaning, wiping down the entirety of the apartment until it sparkles. Before he starts cooking the V-Day dinner, he jumps in the shower and lathers himself in the vanilla and lavender-scented soap you love so much, making sure every part of him smells like the soap. 

Once finished, he picks out a casual yet presentable outfit––a black tee that sticks to his toned body, jeans, and the Armani boxers Sukuna got him for his birthday telling him he has “no taste in nothing”––and lets his black locks fall into a mullet over his head rather than applying gel to put them into his usual ponytails. He usually doesn’t put too much effort into his looks but for you? He’ll do anything to turn you on with his appearance. 

You get off from work at 5 PM and he already ordered an Uber for you to arrive on time to pick you up, telling you to not worry about paying him back. “I don’t want your money, baby,” he tells you, hopping right off of texts when you start to argue to call your phone. “I’ve got money. People love my shit, remember?” 

He remembers you telling him that at his winter art exhibit in December. He took you as his plus one and you took it upon yourself to wear his favorite color on your sinfully tight dress. All he could think about was bending you over as you walked around admiring his work of the city in the wintertime––white snow on the roofs of houses; the park glinting in white; schoolchildren in their colorful coats; citizens with red noses and steams billowing from their takeout cups of coffee. Many of his paintings were sold that night, including one of himself, Yuji, and Sukuna decorating their Christmas tree. “You capture things so well!” an art critic has gushed to him. “I feel as if you’ll do so many amazing things, young man.” 

Choso had squeezed your hand, trying to not blush. That was only the tip of the iceberg of praise he received that night. He felt that he had achieved what he went to art school for at that moment. And he was so happy to spend it with you, his number one supporter, who also purchased a painting of a little schoolgirl in a red coat smiling at the person behind the photo. He made bank off of that exhibit and, after doing commissions on his IG page, he is able to save up enough for the next month. 

After taking out the ingredients for miso ramen and spending the next hour preparing it, you arrive in your Uber. After bringing the broth to a simmer, Choso wipes his hands off on a dish towel and guns to the door to answer it. You stand behind it in a red sweater and hip-hugging jeans that he’d like to replace with his hands. In one hand, you have your work bag while in the other, you have your overnight duffle. “Hey, you,” you greet him, looking oh-so happy to see him. 

You inch closer to him and he wraps an arm around you as you lean into him. “Hey yourself,” he greets, feeling relaxed the minute he has you in his arms. He stands aside, letting you step into his apartment. He eyes your swaying ass as you do, unable to stop his cock from hardening at the sight of your cheeks. “Nice outfit. You have a date with your boss too today?” 

You look back at him and smirk. “Oh, yeah, and he loved these jeans on me.” You slide a hand down your behind to which he shamelessly follows, blushing. God, how he wants to see that ass without anything over it. He wants you naked. But in time. You close your eyes at the scent of spices and herbs wafting in from the kitchen. “Mmm, somethin’ smells good,” you hum.

You put down your bags and follow him into the kitchen, grinning at the broth and noodles. “You’ve been sayin’ how much you wanted me to cook with you,” he chuckles. “It’s almost done. You go relax and I’ll take your bags upstairs.” You nod and stand up on your toes to peck him on the cheek before doing as he says, leaving him rock hard and blushing a bright red. 

After the broth is finally done and the noodles are soft, he sets the two bowls of ramen aside before taking your bags upstairs to his bedroom. There, on the bed, is your gift, wrapped in a gold wrapping paper. He feels nervous butterflies flap around in his stomach. Will you like your gift? Will you accept it? Will you think he’s too cheap to have gotten you something better or more expensive? 

He puts these thoughts on the back burner as he walks back downstairs to see you sitting upright on the couch, shoes off and looking relaxed. He presses a kiss to your forehead as he walks past you to fetch your dinner. When he returns, you’re wearing a giddy smile. “So where’s my surprise?” you ask, pretending to be impatient. 

“Damn, baby, you just got here!” he laughs as he sits down next to you on the couch. “You can’t wait till we eat?” You bounce on the couch, making your breasts jiggle and Choso hard enough to fuck a hole into the wall. Why are you so fucking hot? “I’m too excited to eat!” you groan. “You know how much I love surprises, Chosi!” 

He blushes at the nickname only you’re allowed to call him. “Relax, mama,” he coos, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “You’ll get it soon. For now, just enjoy the lovely ramen I made you. I even added extra ham.” You look up at him with big, wobbly lips, touched. “You love me,” you coo. 

‘Yes,’ he thinks. ‘I really do.’ But he’s never said it. He figured it was still too early in your relationship to do so. Not to mention that one elephant in the room: you haven’t had sex yet. You’ve been dating since September and it hasn’t happened yet, mostly because it would be Choso’s first time doing so. 

He has kissed a girl before and has touched some titties here and there, but he’s never slept with anyone before. He never thought it was a big deal until he met you and fell so deeply for you that he wants to give all of himself to you. He has never told you and hasn’t tried to push things any farther during makeout sessions or heavy petting, but he’s hoping tonight that all of that will change.  

He sits and watches you eat, asking you about how your work week went and what you did today. He watches your glossy mouth as it moves, transfixed and wishing his cock was between them. It takes everything in him to finish dinner like a normal person though his body is itching to get this thing going. It is a peaceful dinner regardless, a comfortable silence settling between you both that neither one of you fills. His knee brushes against yours and sometimes, you reach over to wipe broth from his lip. Little touches like that drive him insane. 

By the time you finish and he forces you to wait until he loads up the dishwasher, you’re dying of impatience and anticipation. “Chosiiii,” you whine, lying on the couch. “I can’t wait any longer. Please can we exchange gifts now?” He pauses from turning on the dishwasher, slowly turning to you. “You got me a gift?” he asks, shocked. 

“Well, of course!” you giggle, sitting up. “It is Valentine’s Day after all and last time I checked, you are my boyfriend.” Your boyfriend. Choso has never been more proud of that in his life. As quick as lightning, he finishes up in the kitchen and hurries to fetch your gift, doing his best to not seem nervous when he returns. 

You both sit on the couch, face to face, knee to knee, both shy yet excited. You pass him a small box wrapped with a bow. “It’s something small,” you shyly say, “but I hope you like it.” With shaky hands, he unties it, revealing two gold chains, one with a C hanging from it and the other with the first letter of your name. 

You pick the chain with your initial, handing it to me. “So I’m always close to you, even when I’m not there. I bought one for myself too.” Gawking at the chain, Choso nearly bursts. He’s never gotten a gift so thoughtful before. “Why are you this fucking cute?” he sighs dreamily, earning a cute giggle from your luscious lips. “This is perfect, baby. Thank you.” 

Now it’s his turn. He smiles at you, taking your hands in his. “Close your eyes first. No peeking.” You pout but do as he says, closing your eyes. He then takes the gift from behind him and places it into your hands. “Now open.” You do so and tear open the wrapping paper to see what lies inside. When you finally do, your smile fades and you are speechless as you stare at your face on the small canvas. 

He copied it from a picture he took of you one day in the park, the autumn sun on your sleeping face, the sunlight in your lashes. You looked like a Goddess slumbering for the day. He chose the colors carefully, wanting to capture the right tone of your skin in the sunlight and the way your braids lit up from the sun’s rays. He used more defined strokes for smaller details like the coils of your braids, your eyelashes, and the blades of grass beneath you. He used larger strokes for the background, blurring it together so only you stood out. He truly believes that this is the best piece he’s ever painted. You gape at the painting before looking up at him. “Did you paint this?” you squeak. 

He nods, smiling proudly. “This was when we were at the park on one of our dates. You fell asleep in the sun and I couldn’t resist not taking a photo.” He gently runs a thumb over the canvas, admiring your painted face. “I love seeing you like this: so at peace. So comfortable. That’s how you make me feel every time I’m with you.” 

You continue to stare at him, mouth parted and eyes wide. In the silence, he finds his confidence and the will to speak. “Y/N,” he begins, nervously so, “you make me feel something I’ve never felt with anyone. I feel so comfortable with you, like nothing and no one can hurt me when we’re together. You’re like my personal diary—I can tell you anything and can trust that it won’t ever leave you. I wanna be that for you too, baby. I just hope this painting says it more than I could.” 

Now you finally crack and your eyes well up with tears. You lower the painting onto the coffee table beside your gift before leaning into Choso’s chest, wrapping your arms around him. “It does,” you sob. “And you are. You’re that and more. I love you, Choso.” As soon as he hears those three little words, Choso is aglow, nearly jumping for joy at the fact that you feel the same way. 

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close. “I love you too,” he whispers, pressing a hand to the back of your head. All is right with the world. All is even better when you lean up and press your lips to his. He falls into your sweet, soft lips immediately, pressing a hand to your face to caress your cheek. It doesn’t take long for the kiss to grow more passionate and heated, leading you to slip into his lap and straddle him. 

Choso groans when he feels the heat in between your legs rub up against his crotch where he can already feel the blood rushing to his cock, especially when his hands find your ass. You wrap your arms around him and bring yourself closer to him, pushing your delectable breasts up against his chest as you slowly grind your hips into his hard-on. He moans at the same time you do, the act of moaning into each other’s mouths making him even harder. You pull away, looking dazed. “Is this okay?” you ask, breathless. He nods, speechless. “I only ask ‘cause you’re so hard.” 

He blushes scarlet, realizing he’s been caught, but then again, it isn’t like you haven’t felt it before. You’ve made out dozens of times before and he sprouted a hard-on but never did anything. You both agreed to give it some time and move slowly. “I mean…you feel really good,” he sheepishly chuckles, earning a proud, beaming, pretty ass smile from you. “But if this is as far as you wanna go, we can.” 

You’re thinking differently though. You hold his face between his hands, forcing him to look into your eyes. “Choso, I’ve been wanting you to fuck my brains out for months,” you boldly say. “I’ve just waited because I thought it was still too early for us.” Choso swears he nearly busts a nut hearing that. “But are you okay with this?” you ask, looking worried. 

He pauses, thinking to himself. Is he okay with this? As fast as the question appears in his head, the answer is there: Yes. He knows he wants this with you and no one else. But he also knows he’ll have to tell you the truth. “I-I am,” he stutters. 

You look at him sideways, your brows knitted. “Are you sure you’re okay, baby?” you ask worriedly. “Did I do something wrong?” Fear and guilt strike within him. No, no, this isn’t what he wants! He doesn’t want to make––his baby––you feel bad. “No,” he instantly replies, taking your face in his hands. “No, Y/N, you’re doin’ amazing. This is me just bein’ a fucking coward.” 

He looks down, ashamed. What will you ever think of him if he tells you? “Cho,” you coax him with your sweet voice. Seeing the worry in those pretty, brown eyes, he gains the confidence to tell you.  “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way,” he sighs. “I do want you, Y/N. I want you so fucking bad, but there’s something I need to tell you.” At the sight of slight fear in those perfect, big eyes, he feels himself wither. He doesn’t want to scare you, but he can’t lie to you either. “I want us to have sex, but…I wouldn’t know what to do,” he confesses. 

You pause, the new information processing in your pretty head. Then your lips part in realization. “Choso, you’ve never had sex before?” you ask, sounding just as surprised as you look. Though blushing red, he slowly shakes his head. “With any type of sex, right?” you continue. “No oral? Nothing?” Once again, he shakes his head, feeling like he will die of embarrassment. 

You exhale softly, stroking up his chest. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me?” You sound oh-so disappointed by that, making him feel even more guilty. “I was afraid you’d laugh or think I was a loser or somethin’,” he admits. “I’ve just never gotten to doing any of that stuff. You’d be the first.” 

At that moment, something in you shifts. He sees a fire flicker behind your eyes which excites him. “So I’d be the first woman to see you naked?” you ask in a soft, sultry voice. “And wrap my lips around this?” Your hand snakes down between you and him to cup his bulge, making him tense and softly moan at the foreign yet pleasurable feeling of someone else’s hand on his cock besides his own. “Y-Yeah,” he whispers, staring deep into your eyes. “The first. I want to give myself to you tonight, Y/N, if you’ll have me.” 

Though there is a part of him that feels afraid of being so vulnerable, he knows deep down he can trust you. You practically melt at his sweet words. “Chosi,” you coo, stroking his cheek, “of course, I’ll have you. I want us to have each other tonight.” You lean in to kiss him, coaxing him to open his mouth and swirl your tongue with his. His eyes roll back into his head at the taste of you. “Just relax and let me show you what you’re missing,” you moan into his mouth. “Let me take care of you tonight, baby.” 

As you continue to kiss him, you begin to palm him through his pants. “Will you let me do that?” you teasingly ask. He gasps into your mouth, your touch so magical. He can’t imagine how it will feel on his naked cock. He can’t take much more and begins to grind into your hands, desperate for relief. “Yes,” he groans. “Yes, baby, please, just touch me!” 

You giggle against his lips, giving him a peck on the chin before doing what he wants and needs of you. You stand up and begin to strip for him as he lays back against the couch, legs spread and cock twitching in his pants. His eyes drink in every part of you as you take off your clothes: your soft, brown skin; your slender back; your legs, calves, and thighs; your breasts that jiggle in your bra; your ass in your pink, lace panties. You’re beautiful. 

You put your hands on your hips, pursing your lips at him playfully. “Well?” you ask. “You gonna join me, stud?” He doesn’t need to be asked twice. He stands before you and strips with your insisted help. You take off his shirt while he works off his pants, pulling them down his muscled thighs and legs. Finally, he is in his briefs, the rest of his clothes left on the floor. You begin to feel him up, your hands and eyes greedily indulging in his body. “Fuck,” you whisper to yourself. “You’re so sexy, Cho.” 

He shivers in delight at your reaction to his body. “Not as sexy as you,” he hums. He wants to squeeze your ass or play with those gorgeous titties, but his hands don’t seem to want to move. Noticing, you giggle and coax him back onto the couch. “You can touch me too, you know,” you purr. “Or are you just gonna stare and leave me aching like this?” 

You take off your bra to show him just what you mean, exposing your hard, brown nipples to him. Choso has never seen such beauties in his life and he can’t resist wrapping his lips around one of the hardened peaks. The sounds you make only encourage you to continue sucking and lapping on your nipples, switching between each like a hungered man in need of milk. He fondles your breasts two, gently pulling at a nipple that isn’t between his lips. He pays close attention to your reactions, each one sending tingles into his dick. 

“Fuck, Choso, just like that,” you moan, gripping his shoulders and arching your back, pushing your tits farther into his face. “That feels so good!” He looks up at you from your chest, loving how your lips part and your eyelids flutter from the pleasure that he’s giving you. “Yeah?” he asks. “That feels good?” You hum in enjoyment as he nipples on your tight nipples, using his hand to fondle your other breast that his mouth isn’t occupying. 

He continues to indulge your delectable, wonderful, heavenly titties until you’ve finally had enough. You pull his mouth away from your nipple, a string of saliva dangling from his bottom lip. “I wanna taste you,” you whisper. “Can I do that for you?”

Choso’s eyes widen in both shock and excitement. Oh, ho he’s wanted to feel those plump, soft lips around his cock for so long! “Yes,” he agrees. “Just be gentle…please.” You give him a warm smile and kiss him softly before moving off of him. You get on your knees between his thighs and slowly take down his boxers, freeing his cock from its trap. 

“Fuck, Choso,” you gasp. “You’re so big…and you have a dick piercing! That’s so hot!” He flushes at your reaction. “It was a dare by Yuji and Todo,” he admits. You grin up at him and lick your palm before wrapping a hand around him. “Just tell me if it’s too much or if you need me to slow down,” you instruct. He nods and leans back, urging you to continue. 

You first begin to stroke him, coating his dick in your spit in the process. He can’t explain how good yet different your hand feels. Yours is soft and much smaller compared to his, your brown skin and bright-colored nails contrasting with his paler skin. Not to mention the tight grip you have on him. It feels better than all of the times he’s fucked his hand or his trusty fleshlight. “Fuck, Y/N,” he groans. “Your hand feels so good.” 

“You’ll like my mouth even more, I think,” you giggle. “And you can fuck my throat if you want to. I love it rough.” You give him a wink to which he blushes a ruby red. “R-Really?” he stutters. “Are you– oh, shit!” His questions are halted when you wrap your lips around him and begin to gently suck on him, getting him used to your mouth. His mouth forms a pleasurable O as he watches you take his cock on your knees, sucking on it like it’s your own personal lollipop. 

Your warm mouth and wet tongue feel so good against his cock, caressing every sensitive part of his shaft. You even take your hand and fondle his balls while your other strokes him in time with your mouth, twisting this way and that as if you’re trying to drain the cum out of him. 

“Oh, my God, baby,” he moans, gripping the couch for dear life. “Your mouth feels so fuckin’ good!” He’s never felt anything so wonderful in his life. 

You briefly pull away to breathe, your mouth coated in spit. It only makes him harder seeing you––his pretty girlfriend––look so slutty for him. Then you put that mouth on him again, swallowing him whole. “Yeah?” you ask, your voice muffled by his cock stuffed deep inside your mouth. “You like my mouth, baby boy?” You go deeper, taking him into your throat with ease despite his girth, and he nearly jumps off of the couch from the sensations. “Fuck yes!” he whines. “P-Please don’t stop!”  

He can feel his hips moving on their own beneath you, gently bucking into your mouth the more you gag and flex that throat around him. Your plump lips look so good stretched around him, dripping in your spit as lewd sounds of you gagging all over him fill the air. You then pull away to take a breath and recover, but not for long. “Fuck my face,” you say, your eyes pleading. “Give me that dick, Choso. I can take all of it.” 

He blinks at you, not sure if he’s just hallucinating from the pleasure, but the eager strokes of your hand around his cock make it very clear that this is real. You plan that throat on him again and, after ensuring that you’re okay, begins to fuck your face the way you pleaded him to. He grabs your hair and thrusts up into your mouth like it’s his own personal fucktoy. He starts to see it as such, not wanting any cock in your throat but his. “Fuck,” he groans, “fuck, fuck, baby, fuck!” He can’t keep quiet, too overcome with lust and the pleasure he feels as he pistons into your throat again and again. 

It doesn’t take long for him to feel that familiar tightening in his balls, signaling his end. “Shit, Y/N, you’re gonna make me cum,” he warns. “I-I can’t stop! You need to get off of me if you don’t want me to–” 

You shake your head and he loosens his grip on you so you can breathe. “Cum for me,” you plead. “Cum deep down my throat, Daddy, please.” Choso nearly busts right there. Again, he grabs you and thrusts into your throat, focusing on the way your tight, wet walls flex around him until he can hardly take it. “Oh, shit!” he groans loudly. “I’m gonna fucking cum, baby! Don’t stop, please! Fuck, I’m…I’m…” 

He can’t finish his sentence because his orgasm erupts inside of him, spilling out into your throat. You moan around his cock as he cums, his sexy groans of release echoing throughout the apartment. He spurts rope after rope of warm, creamy cum into your mouth which you eagerly, your mouth sliding off of his cock. You sit back and swallow it all, some of it dripping down your chin. Once the fog of his orgasm finally fades, Choso looks down at you and feels embarrassed. “Sorry,” he shyly apologizes. “That was…a lot.” 

You giggle, wiping at your chin and the corner of your mouth. “Yes, it was,” you agree. “Mmm, you gave me such a big load, baby. You must’ve needed that.” He blushes again though you seem like you enjoyed it. You then look up at him with those big eyes and a warm smile. “So how was your first blowjob?” 

He doesn’t even have all of the words to describe such a feeling. “Incredible,” he sighs happily. “But now you need your turn, don’t you?” At the mention of this, your smile grows wider and you stand up so you can lie down on the couch beside him. He faces you and gently moves your thighs apart to reveal your panties. “You may have to guide me though. It’s my first time eating pussy.” He gives you a sheepish smile, staring into your pretty eyes between your thighs. “Can you show me where you like to be touched? And how?” 

He keeps his eyes on yours as he slowly drags your panties down your legs that he stops to coat in wet kisses. You moan and run your hands through his black locks of hair, gripping them when he begins to gently run his finger up and down your slit, feeling how hot and wet you are. “C’mon, mama, show me,” he coos. “Guide me. Guide my face.” 

And so you do. You lift your hips as he slides down your panties, whimpering softly as he stares at your pussy. He’s never seen anything so soft and beautiful. As he encouraged you to do, you guide his face to where your clit is and instruct him to gently suck on it while using the flat of his tongue to slowly lick up and down your slit. He does so, enjoying your taste and the sounds you make. 

“That’s it, baby,” you softly moan. “Lick that pussy. Lap up all of me…it’s all for you.” Something inside of Choso bursts at those nasty words falling from your pretty mouth. Something like a wildfire blooms inside of him with no way to put it out until you’ve cum too. 

He goes slow, letting you get used to him and himself used to you. After a few minutes, he’s got it down and knows just how to make you squirm under his hands that stay planted on your ass, angling your hips so he can reach that spot that makes you let out that voice even more. “Oh, my God, Choso!” you gasp, gripping his locks of hair. “Fuck, that’s so good! Please keep going!” 

“You taste so good,” he moans into your pussy. “So fuckin’ wet…so tight…I need all of you.” He’s so pent up that he begins to fist his cock that has begun to harden again at the feeling of your wetness dripping down his chin. He loves eating your pussy. He could get drunk off of you. 

Before he realizes it, he has started to move his tongue faster, his jaw beginning to ache. But he keeps going, encouraged by your loud whines and sobs that bounce off the walls and caress his ears. “Fuck, Choso!” you whine. “You’re gonna make cum!” 

Like a dog reacting to Pavlov’s bell, Choso continues to eagerly lap at your cunt, encouraging you to cum. “Mmm-hmm,” he hums, lips still wrapped around your perfect little clit. “Cum for me, pretty girl. It’s okay, I’ve got you.” His words become pleas and begs, needing you to cum for him. Needing you to soak his face. “Cum for me, please! I need it! I fucking need it!” 

And you do. “Fuck, Choso!” you moan at the top of your lungs, arching your back and gripping his hair as you finally cum in his mouth. All over his chin. All over the couch. It’s the hottest thing he has ever experienced. Hearing you sob in pleasure and watching your body contort like you’re being exercised is better than any porn. He nearly cums watching you, still pumping his cock as he laps up every bit of your cum along your sensitive pussy and twitching thighs. 

Finally, he sits back and takes a breath while you lay there, eyes closed and chest rapidly rising and falling. “Oh, my God,” you sigh. And then, again, laughingly this time, “Oh, my God!”. He smiles at the little breathless, delirious giggles that leave your lips. “I guess I did a good job?” he asks, giddy at the fact that he made you feel that good. You open your eyes and smile up at him, noting but sedated lust and adoration there. “That was amazing, baby,” you happily sigh. “You sure that was your first time eating pussy?” He laughs at this, his stomach flipping with joy. “I don’t think my dreams count, so, yes.” 

Noticing your eyes have fallen to his hard cock, he begins to soothingly stroke your thigh, not wanting you to feel obligated to continue. “You need to relax for a minute?” Silently, you shake your head and sit up to straddle him, forcing him onto his back. “You sure?” he asks, concerned. “What about your–” 

“I’m fine,” you interrupt. “I’ll be even better when I get you inside of me.” His eyes widen as he stares up at you, not used to such impatience. The same fire inside of him has grown inside of you too. “Hold onto my hips, okay? I’m gonna guide you in.” Wordlessly, he nods, swallowing hard as your hand wraps around the base of his cock and guides him down to your entrance. He feels himself getting harder as the anticipation and the sight of you on top overtakes him. 

Finally, after running his cock up against your slit, emitting soft moans from both of you, he finally slips inside of you. “Fuck!” he gasps at the same time as you release a moan of pure pleasure. “B-Baby, you’re so tight!” Your soft, wet walls flutter around him and squeeze him at the same time, making him feel like he is being tightly embraced. 

You slide up halfway, grasping his shoulders for leverage. He keeps his hands on your hips to help guide you though he trembles as he does. “Too much?” you breathlessly ask. He shakes his head, nearly groaning when you move black strands of his hair out of his face. “I’ll move slow, okay? Just feel me, Choso. Don’t fight it.” 

Choso doesn’t. He couldn’t even if he tried. The way your wet, spongy walls squeeze around him so tight, slowly stroking his cock the same way your mouth did but way more intense, is driving him further toward the edge of insanity. You begin to alternate between rolling your hips and bouncing on him by balancing on your knees, making him plunge his cock into you again and again. You wrap your arms around him, pressing your tits flush against his chest. “That feel good, baby?” you coo into his ear. “You like this pussy?” 

Choso can’t take any it—the wetness of your pussy; the slow rocking of your hips; your soft body moving up and down against him as you slowly bounce on his dick. He holds you closer to him, needing more. “Fuck, Y/N!” he groans. “N-Need it…need it faster!” 

He feels you grin against his ear as you nibble on his earlobe and kiss down his neck. “Faster?” you chuckle. “Is that what you said?” He frantically nods as you pull away to stare into his eyes. “Then grab my hips and make me go faster,” you purr. “Take what you want. I’m yours, Daddy.” 

That fire inside of Choso damn near explodes. You just gave him confirmation to fuck you up completely. So he grabs your hips and begins to fuck up into you, driving himself deeper and deeper into you. Your walls begin to flutter around him more intensely as lewd, squelching sounds begin to emit from your wet pussy the more his cock fucks up into it like it’s his personal fleshlight.

You’re loving it, your arms tightening around his neck and thighs tightening from the pleasure he is giving you. “O-Oh my G-God!” you moan, each word shaky from being bounced so much on his cock. “F-Fuck, Choso! Sh-Sh-Shit!” 

He grins, proud to be making you feel this good and act this slutty for him. “Yeah?” he chuckles breathlessly. He grabs your ass and gives into a smack as he drives his cock into you, his slamming up against yours. “That dick feel good? Tell me, mama. Tell me how good I feel fucking you.” You grip him close, pressing your face into his shoulder. “Yes, like that!” you sob. “You feel so good, Chosi! You make me feel so fucking good!” 

He can’t explain the way that makes him feel. He is overwhelmed and flooded with waves of lust, love, and everything in between as he feels you; hears you; tastes you. He wants to make this count. He needs to make sure you understand how you make him feel.

“Come here,” he demands. “Down here, right against me.” He pauses and lays back against the couch, pulling you against him. There, he begins to thrust up into you again, gripping your ass as you slide a hand between your thighs to frantically rub your clit. 

“You deserve this,” he groans. “You deserve every minute, every second of this. I wanna give this to you all the time. Can I do that for you, baby? Please?” He holds your face between his hands, staring into your pleasure-stricken expression and lust-blown eyes. “Can I give you my cum?” he whispers. 

Biting on your bottom lip from the pleasure, you nod your head, gripping one of his hands and pressing it closer to your cheek. “Yes,” you whimper. You begin to push yourself down against him, slamming your pussy down onto his cock again and again to bring you both closer to the edge. “Yes, baby, give it all to me! Please make me cum with you!” 

Choso then presses a rough, passionate kiss to your lips as he slams into you, gripping you closer to him. “I love you!” he growls. “I love you so fucking much! Let me show you how fucking much.” The more he thrusts in and out of you, the more it feels like your cunt is trying to suck him in. You soon begin to move against one another, swallowing your shallow breaths and desperate moans as the couch squeaks beneath your bodies. He can feel himself edging closer to his end, his balls swelling and that fire growing. 

“Tell me you love me,” he demands. “Tell me right now.” You sink your nails into his pecs, giving him a bite of pain that sends his cock into a frenzy. “I love you!” you damn near scream. “I love you so, so much, Choso!” You stare into his eyes, pleading for him to give you what you crave. “Please cum with me,” you beg. “Please, please, baby, fill me up!” 

Your sobbing wet pussy does the same, begging for his cum the more he pistons into you. Finally, he feels it building and can feel your walls tightening, signaling that your end is near too. “Cum on that cock,” he moans. “Do it for me, baby, c’mon, please!”

Your jaw falls slack as does his and a small lull of silence swells around you as the pleasure builds. When that damn finally breaks, neither one of you can hold back. Moans, cries, and gasps fill the air as you both cum against each other, you gushing around his cock and him filling you up.

“Fuck!” he groans, sloppily thrusting his slick cock into you again and again as he rides out the last of his orgasm with you. You fall slack against him, your moans dying down to soft gasps and tiny whimpers as your pussy twitches around him. 

Finally exhausted, Choso’s thrusts grow sloppier and slower until he finally stops and lets your mingled cum drip down his balls, not even caring if it stains the couch. He feels you twitch slightly against him, but he holds you close to him. “No, don’t move,” he murmurs, tightening his grip on you. “Just stay here for a minute with me.” 

Silence falls upon you as you lay in your afterglow, you on top of him. He stays inside of you, his cock growing soft, but he feels so at home there. So…comfortable. He breathes in your scent, stroking your clammy skin, back, and ass. He can feel his eyes fluttering closed from the sedation of the sex and that amazing second orgasm. “Babe?” you ask. 

He lifts his head to look down at you. “Hm?” 

You peel your head off of his chest, smiling up at him. “I have to pee,” you giggle. Blushing, Choso quickly releases you. “R-Right, sorry! You need me to walk you?” He watches as you carefully slide off of him, his flaccid cock flapping against his lower stomach. You slowly plant one foot on the floor and then try to stand. “Uh, I think I’m–oh, shit!” you gasp as your leg wobbles. You slide the rest of the way off of Choso and nearly fall to the ground, but he catches you. 

He wraps one arm around your waist and sits you back down on the couch. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckles. “Don’t worry, I’m not too tired to carry you.” Slowly, he stands, butt naked, and scoops you, also butt naked, up against him bridal style.

“What a gentleman,” you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck as your feet dangle off the ground. “You paint and cook for me, make me cum my brains out, and carry me to the bathroom.” He softly laughs at your compliment, blushing mad hard and secretly beaming with pride. He is so happy you feel this way about him. 

After taking you to the bathroom, he waits for you on the couch with some water. When you return, you both lay on the couch face to face, front to front. “So how was your first time?” you gently ask, stroking his chest. 

He takes a moment to think about this, wondering which words will satisfy you. “It was amazing,” he sighs, earning a pleased smile from you. That was obviously the right answer. “You were amazing.” He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. 

“So were you,” you sigh, mirroring his actions. It causes him to lean in to kiss you which only makes his cock twitch against your thigh. Noticing, you giggle against his mouth. “Again?” you whisper. 

“Y’know, we’ve got plenty of time before my idiot brothers come back,” he murmurs against your lips. “And I’ve always wanted to have shower sex with you…if you’re up for it.” He adds this sheepishly, not wanting to see like a sex fiend when you just got done one round. After all, you need the rest. 

But you seem to be on the same time as your hooded eyes stare into his and your hand gently caresses his cock pressed against you. “Lead the way then, stud,” you purr. 

Choso has never moved so fast in his life. 

THE END.

#smutty smut #black fanfic writer #my works #black writers #black coded reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader #choso x black!reader #choso smut #jjk choso #choso x reader

[dulcewrites]

Fire & Desire

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader (mentioned) , Aegon ii Targaryen x reader (wc: 2.2k)

Summary: Many sacrifices have been made to get Aegon on the throne. Including ones made by you

A/N: this had been sitting in my drafts for sooo long. I thought I’d revise it a bit, give me a bit of a break from fool me once. Hope y’all like it ��🏽🫶🏽. Sorry if there is lots of typos this was sort of posted on a whim

When Aegon becomes King, it is up to us to guild him in the right direction. To have the ear of your husband is ever important…. That may mean giving things up in return.

The words had been ringing in your head all night. Along with the image of Alicent’s uncomfortable grimace. Your instinct was the ask her what she meant by that; play silly and confused. Easily moldable and docile, the way most people like.

But you know your good mother too well for that. She knows all. You should have seen this moment coming.

The next thing you wanted to do was apologize. Tell her that you do not know how you got yourself in this predicament. But Aegon has never been one to apologize for his indiscretions, so why should you. All you can give her a curt nod.

You know she advices you without any malice. The bolstering hate you sometimes saw in Queen Alicent, the kind you see in all her children in different dosages, had cooled to a melancholy resentment over the years. She’s grown older, a bit wiser. Or maybe she is just tired.

The type of debilitating exhaustion that only women would get. Women forced to do the bidding of those around them.

It was never going to be simple. It is never easy with this family. An heir that is never around, a dead King that was never suited from the job, and a circle of scheming noblemen. Recipe for chaos and destruction.

Alicent does not have the hope to be disappointed anymore. Everything is for survival now. So much has been given up for this, and now comes your time to pay the price. Just like Alicent has.

If she knows, you can assume that means Aegon does too. He is more observant than anyone would give him for.

There are days he looks at you, and you think he can tell what you have been up to. He can look right through you and see what his brother did to you that morning, or late the night before.

Does he wonder where you run off to, the way you did with him at the beginning of your marriage. When there was a blinding and painful need to make it work. If he does know, you are surprised he has not said anything to do… or to Aemond. Aegon’s emotions flow hot and wild. Being on the opposite end of it is a sight. But then he levels off, normally numbs whatever he feels with wine or whores. He is simple in a complicated way.

If he has any inkling about what you have been doing, he has not made it known. You don’t know if that is a relief or if it hurts. None of that Targaryen madness dealt out for his wife.

Your thoughts are broken when he stalks in. Freshly washed, slight bruises on his face, and wrapped in despair.

He does now acknowledge for presence, just climbs into bed after blowing out the few candles on his side of the room. The two of you lay in silence before you feel like you will crawl out of your skin if you do not say anything.

“I will stop seeing him… in that way,” you say into the darkness, voice stronger than you thought it would be. “If that pleases you.”

You turn from your back to your side to face him; you are greeted with a eyeful of silvery hair that seems to glow in the dark. His back facing you, rigid and uncomfortable.

“Aegon, did yo-“

“I heard you the first time,” he sighs, interrupting you.

There is more silence. You continue to stare at his back, till he slowly turns to face you. Even in the dark you can see the frown on his face. The moonlight illuminating him It is like speaking with his mother all over again. Does Alicent look at Aegon and get frightened? To give birth to someone who looks so much like you but disappoints you so deeply must be haunting. A terrible mirror to have.

“I am surprised you are even admitting it,” he mutters.

You decide not to tell him that the admission comes at the behest of his mother. There is no need to add to the list of things that splitter that relationship.

“We are going to need each other, now more than never. I am willing to admit… wrongdoing and repent for it. But we both have to do that for it to work.”

Your tongue feels heavy calling whatever Aemond, and you have wrongdoing. The proper term for it does not come because you don’t know what you two are. Lovers, confidants, prisoners. It’s all the same.

The frown deep softens a bit.

“Aenar is mine.”

It comes out like statement, but you suppose it is meant to be a question. Aenar is all Aegon is best and worst ways. Sweet cherubic features and a rambunctious spirit. They even pout in the same way when they do not get what they want. They are so alike that it stupidly makes you wonder at what age he will let you down. The way his father has before him.

“He is yours,” you whisper. “A tiny terror.”

Aegon lets out a short fit of playful laughter. The affection Aegon has towards the kids is something you were constantly taken aback by. When he was around, and in his right mind, he is electric with them. It made you a bit jealous. You pushed your body to the max, and Aenar follows him like he is a god. A Targaryen God.

“But Valaena…” he trials off bitterly.

You do not answer immediately. While Aemond barely even looked at you by the time you became pregnant with Aenar, things were different by the time you had your little girl. Your relationship with Aemond sweet and syrupy. The glow of intimacy neither of you had experienced before.

“No, she is yours.”

It is easier to say that, her features still soft and indiscernible. You think she is his. You hope for his sake she is. Aegon becomes extra warm around her. Baby talk and soft looks of love.

Perhaps you hope he is for her sake as well. If Aemond thinks Valaena is his daughter, he makes no effort to show it. At first, you thought it was him being smart. Knowing that taking too much of a liking would be suspicious. Then you quickly learned he just has no interest in that part of you. Sometimes you fear he sees that extension of you, your kids, as obstacles instead.

Living and breathing embodiments of the duty you put first.

“You would really stop,” Aegon rips you from his thoughts. “Tell Aemond that it is done?”

His voice lifts intrigued. A different conversation you had with Alicent floats in your mind.

Their want for different things keeps them from expressing their love, but it is there.

“Will you stop fathering flea bottom bastards?”

Aegon scoffs at your question, but nonetheless shuffles closer to you. He smells like lemon and roses.

“This is going to be so bad,” his voice wobbles a bit.

You want to agree, because it will; it is going to be blood spilling amounts of terrible. Instead of expressing that you lean forward too.

It is how the two of you fall asleep. Foreheads pressed together, noses brushing, and slow breathes mangled together.

Is that what having your husband’s ear is like?

You know you are staring, unabashedly and grotesquely.

The only saving grace being that you are not the only one. Everyone in the dragon pit has their gaze on Aegon. Small folk watch on in confusion or admiration. Everyone on the stage hold more somber or stoic faces. Everyone accept Otto that is, who looks as pleased as you have ever seen him.

Alicent’s face is serenely flat. Helaena cannot look at her brother for too long, looking away at times. You do not dare turn to see Aemond’s reaction. Especially not after avoiding him all morning. There was a sinking feeling you got when your lady in waiting told he was outside of the door. Cowardly, you told her to tell him you were occupied. You did not know what to say to him yet.

Now all you can do if stare, and fiddle with the crisp fabric of your mute pink and gardenia dress.

It is terribly quiet in the pit. It only makes the affair even more uneasy.

There is something so devastatingly beautiful about his tear-stained face. You enjoy Aegon like this. Needy, helpless, and metaphorically flat on his back with shock and despair.

When he finally rises, Conqueror’s crown on his head, his eyes darts to everyone on stage. When his large, watery eyes finally get to you, you try to give him an encouraging smile. You are sure it reads more painful than reassuring or comforting. You bow your head expectedly.

King Aegon, Second of His Name. Gods helps you all.

The tides change once he turns to face the crowd. When the cheers start, there goes your meek Aegon. He lifts Blackfyre with a vigor you have never seen from your husband. There is a satisfaction that radiates off him. It’s stunning and terrifying to watch.

Despite everything, your eyes tear themselves away long enough to briefly glance at Aemond. If Aegon’s feeling burn fast and dissipate to light fizzles of hate, then Aemond’s resentment simmers for years, and flares when the flames are fanned.

His eyes never leave his brother’s back. Everyone enraptured by Aegon’s attitude change for different reasons.

The cheers reach their peak, and foolishly you think maybe things will be alright.

Then everything goes black.

This is going to be so bad

It is only in the comfort of his own chambers, where Aemond feels like he can finally let out the breath he has been holding in for days.

His stomach has been in knots for days, waves nausea fluttering in certain moments. It reminds him of after he first lost his eye. He would get such painful headaches that it made sick. 

Now it is not his lack of an eye ailing him, it is you.

He should have known something was wrong when you would not allow him to see you. The necklace was missing too. The sterling silver locket with a sparkling sapphire in the middle of it. You had not taken it off since he gifted it to you… till today.

Aemond knows what it means.

You could barely meet his eye, as if you think your rejection would break him. He would rather gouge his other eye out than give Aegon the satisfaction of that.

The only time you seemed aware of his presence is when you squeezed his arm when they were all face to face with Meleys. The squeeze was surprisingly strong. Though it was not a scared squeeze, it was almost reassuring. You were ready to die. You had told him one night; whispered it in the dark. You knew it would be coming, and sooner than you wanted.

“Of course, we are going to die young,” you smile with little mirth. “Think of family we are in.” 

You had only expressed sadness for your children. That you hope when that time comes someone kind will take care of them and prayed, they would remember you as a gentle mother.

What a way it would’ve been to die at the fire of dragon. You, him, his siblings, and his mother… one big happy family.

Aemond decides not to tell you that sometimes he goes in Valaena’s room and just looks. He waits for the paternal instincts to kick in. One day he expects to look and see flashes of himself. As of now all he sees is your eyes. He supposes that is the next best thing. He already must see his brother, and mini version of him that hides behind your skirts.

He has no desire to take care a child right now, and he is not even sure she is his. But to be bound to you another way would be so lovely. So many parts of him are now yours, and vice versa. What is one more?

Aemond is not mad. He finds the whole idea of a mad Targaryen a bit macabre, even for his taste.

But he sees visions of Aegon sitting the throne with you at his side as queen and thinks it would be ok to see King’s Landing up in flames. Even better if he is the one to light the fire.

He saw the way your demeanor instantly shifted. Tending to hurt small folk, telling guards where to go and what to do. There was not a lick of fear in your eyes when someone addressed you as the queen. In fact, Aemond was sure he saw a flicker of glee run through your eyes. He cannot fault the self-serving side of you. He wishes to devour it the way he wishes to devour every other part of you.

You would have never agreed to marry Aegon if this outcome was not a possibility. Giving up a chance to have your name in the history books as Queen and your son as future heir is not an opportunity you would give up. Certainly not for him. Aemond knows Rhaenyra is coming. If not his half-sister, then his uncle will be plotting and planning. So, he will do what he always does. Sit and wait. One eye firmly on his clever girl.

When the spark is finally set, he hopes you two will burn together.

#Aegon… girl dad? #so true #obsessive Aemond? so true #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd imagine

[detshin]

Do you think Shinichi is also putting a facade?

Hmmm. I think that with Shinichi it's complicated.

The way I see Kaito, he is just a normal guy who CAN have normal relationships up to a certain point, he has his own safe space, he has his normal every day to day routine... So his life is not THAT different, he has these extra things he has to add to that, like planning for heists, pretending ignorance and innocence in front of his close ones and shutting people out if they try to cross his limits, which is added to the fact that his social circle is very small too. But even if he's got to be alert because of these things, he still has the structure of his routine life and safe space, which makes it easier for him too to be alert when he needs to be. The fact that after all this time he sTILL refuses to accept or comply to Hakuba telling him more or less directly that he's Kid kinda proves that. He still has energy to keep that mask on at all times he HAS to have it on.

For Shinichi... It's much more complicated. He doesn't have a safe space. He doesn't. He has to be wearing the mask CONSTANTLY. If he had in the end let's say lived at Agasa's house, maybe it could've been a little easier for him mentally because as soon as the door closed, inside of Agasa's house he could act like himself, but he can't do that, and it's gotta be... Exhausting. The people who KNOW and he can act normally are, sadly, sort of out of his routine, he doesn't see Agasa everyday (not now that he's Conan, he probably did before though), he doesn't see Heiji every day either,... He sees Ai at school, but it's not completely safe either because the kids are around, they meet mostly at school, again, not a safe space either... It's complicated. I feel like Conan's mask cracks easier for two reasons: one: he's not specially good at lying and he doesn't like to do it (he's got his moments). Two: he's tired. It's gotta be EXHAUSTING to act completely different as you would normally at all times, that's why he cracks, that's why he messes up more, that's why when with people who KNOW he indulges so much and then of course messes up too. So is Shinichi wearing a mask, is he putting up a facade? Sure, but not completely. His personality bleeds more through his mask than Kaito's imo, because he has to keep it on all the time and THAT is not easy. For example, he falls comfortable at times with the kids and takes this more mature stance with them, took the role of the older brother even being the smallest child on the group, and they let him, because they're kids.

And of course he takes EVERY opportunity he can get to take the mask off (he takes antidotes when possible, he wants to go on dates with Ran and take her to a nice restaurant and tell her his feelings, he wants to go on a school trip with the rest of his mates and with the love of his life...) because he's tired.

Shinichi and Kaito have similarities but are also very different, it's interesting to explore!

#detective conan #dcmk #ask me! #shinichi kudo

[stop-talking]

So I guess I should do an intro post / fanfic masterlist

Hi.

• I'm 20 yrs old, she/her, and obsessed with Josh Hutcherson. (Mike & Futturman especially have my heart)

• I'm new to writing, but I read like crazy and spend 90% of my time daydreaming up little stories about my favorite characters. Just using Tumblr as an outlet to get those little stories to the world.

• Feel free to request any fanfic related to a jhutch character. I'm most comfortable writing for Mike, Futturman, and Derek, but I'm willing to try to write for other characters. (Minus Peeta. Thinking about the Hunger Games makes me unreasonably sad & I'm not sure I know his character well enough to do him justice.)

My Works

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✩ Mike Schmidt:

You're his ex, but he's desperate for a babysitter. (18+)

Exactly what it sounds like. His babysitter goes missing, but he can't leave Abby home alone. Unfortunately, he's broke as fuck, and can't afford to pay someone to watch her. So... he calls you. He'll endure your bitchy attitude and relentless teasing if it means his sister will be safe. Somewhere along the way, endure turns to enjoy.

Fem reader; 10k words (total)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

No Abby, we're not getting ice cream.

Silly little one-off about the average shopping trip for Mike and Abby. He's just trying to get things for dinner, but Abby has other plans. Just Mike being the single mother that he is.

Mike's POV; 1.2k words

Read here

Open wide (18+)

Mike hasn't been to the dentist since he was a kid, but with his new job, and health insurance... he really has no excuse not to. One problem, though. He doesn't remember the experience being so... erotic? Is he insane, or is the attractive, young, dental assistant... hitting on him?

Gender-neutral reader; 2.8k words

Read here

Sleepless Nights

Abby is sure something's up with her brother. He's always been tired, sure, but ever since the events at Freddy's... well, he's gotten a lot worse. The stubborn man won't let her help, so she convinces him she's the one in need of comfort.

Abby's POV; 500 words

Read here

Gender-neutral reader; 2.8k words

✩ Derek Danforth:

So I'm stuck on this shithole island, and I can't even have a smoke? (18+)

You're hired by his mother as a last resort to try and get him sober. Alone with just him for three weeks, your job is to rehabilitate him.

Unfortunately, Derek sees you as his personal chef, maid, and whore. You flat-out refuse at first, but well, after so many days of only interacting with each other... The lines are a little blurred. something-to-lovers. It's complicated.

Fem reader; 22.9k words total (so far)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 (Part 8 coming soon)

Derek sending you nudes while you're at work (blurb) (18+)

Read here

Older; not Wiser (18+)

Derek isn't the type to entertain 20-year-olds. Really, he's not. That is, until one falls right into his lap. Literally.

You're just so sweet and fun, how could he ever dream of saying no when you ask him to show you a good time?

Part 1 (Part 2 coming soon)

fem reader; 2.5k words

✩ Josh Futturman:

Win for me ♡ (18+)

You're tired of your boyfriend paying more attention to his stupid game than you. So, late one night, you take matters into your own hands. Literally. Hopefully his little gaming buddies don't mind hearing him moan into the mic...

Gender-neutral reader; 2.3k words

Read here

✩ Clapton Davis

Saturday School

(Request) "Imagine listening to music with Clapton while in detention... like sharing earbuds with him while y'all sit in silence. Then a cringe song comes on at the wrong time LMAO"

Gender-neutral reader; 2k words

Read here

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

#fnaf movie #jhutch #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #fnafmovie #mikeschmidt #josh hutcherson x reader #mike x reader #fanfic #abby fnaf #derek danforth x reader #derek danforth #no use of y/n #fanfic masterlist #masterlist #josh futterman

[eoieopda]

menace (pjm) — pt. vi

Pairing: Park Jimin x Kim!Reader Type: 6/6 (Mini Series) ⇢ Previous Chapter | Masterlist Genre: Smut + Fluff Rating: M (18+) Word Count: 6k+ Summary: This Valentine’s Day looks a lot different than the last one. AUs: Older brother’s best friend, fuck buddies that hate(d) each other CW: Reader is AFAB & queer, Jimin is so soft omg, ✨vulnerability✨, so much kissing wtf who am i?, nipple play, fingering (v), unprotected sex (p in v), DID I SAY SOFTNESS? A/N: Thank youuuuuu to everyone that stuck with me and these two idiots until the very end 💕 If you get lonely now that this is over, check out the rest of my masterlist. ⚠️ 18+ only ⚠️ minors and ageless blogs will be blocked. my content is not for you. i do not want to interact with you. please respect my boundaries.

It was odd, starting over with someone you’d known longer than nearly everyone else in your life. Jimin wasn’t a stranger by any means; he’d always been present, life running parallel to yours, but you’d never truly seen him up close. 

Not accurately, anyway.

When you were younger, the pedestal you put him on kept the sun in your eyes. You’d have to squint to see his shortcomings, but you never did. Maybe that was one of yours, willful blindness. As far as you knew then — or, rather, as far as you bothered to look — Jimin had none. All he had was a bright, white light.

After that pedestal crumbled and Icarus took a swan-dive to the sub-basement of your expectations, the shadows down there warped the flaws you finally recognized. A trick of the light, they exaggerated every shitty thing you thought you saw and made them all worse. Scarier, even. Worth hating.

Once you finally allowed him to exist on equal footing, you realized that Jimin wasn’t made to be viewed in such high contrast. He wasn’t the monochromatic figure you’d mythologized, not two-dimensional. In reality, he was a prism refracting a thousand different, complicated colors that you hadn’t been giving him due credit for.

The first shade you discovered was the one that broke your brain the most.  Jimin — the only person you knew that never responded to anyone’s calls or texts — wasn’t actually as solitary as he seemed. Really, the only thing he hated more than being by himself was having to admit that fact to anyone, especially you. 

So, instead of calling to invite you along on his errand runs, he started showing up at your door to ask, “You’re not busy right now, are you?”

And just like that, without meaning to, you learned his routine. Another shade.

Every other Sunday, you’d wake up a little earlier than usual. No matter how tired or hungover you were, you would crawl out of your bed, into your well-functioning shower, and make yourself presentable. Then, when you no longer looked like a hobgoblin, you’d sit on your couch with your tea.

None of it was a conscious decision — waiting in the nearest seat to your front door, angling yourself so you could keep an eye on the driveway — at least, not at first. In fact, you didn’t even notice what you were doing until your newly-acquired therapist pointed it out.

“It sounds like you’re making space in your life for him, brick by brick.”

You laughed it off when she said it, but as weeks flew by, you finally had to concede that she was right. She was right about something else, too: you hadn’t been viewing yourself fairly, either. 

“Cellophane can be iridescent, too, if you hold it right.”

Whatever shades of your own that you uncovered, you gradually learned to let Jimin see, too. He picked up on all of your intricacies much faster than you did — because of course he did — and unlike you, he didn’t stumble upon revelations by surprise. He didn’t muddle through your less-pretty shades by trial and error, like you did. To the contrary, he had an unexpected knack for anticipating your reactions, and he planned accordingly.

Everything he did was purposeful, from his choice of words to his actions. Like exhuming his phone from his pocket — “only because it’s you” — to let you know if he was running late to plans you’d made. It was rare that he didn’t show up on time, but whenever he couldn’t, he’d call to promise that he really was on his way. And he always was, no matter how shitty the weather was, or how much he might’ve wanted an extra hour of sleep.

Jimin and all his shades showed up for you.

On Christmas, when Seokjin’s part-time girlfriend threw a dinner party without knowing what the fuck she’d signed up for. You were three-quarters through a bottle of wine before you were pulled in to take over meal preparations with Seokjin; and although Jimin was mostly useless in front of a stove, he was good at fetching whatever you’d need next without you having to point to it. He was even better at keeping your respective glasses full, which felt even more important. Washing dishes after the fact wasn’t all that bad with him there, also drunk off his face, drying them.

On New Years’ Eve, when Jimin was too sick to join the bar crawl but still set an alarm to wake up and call you — right at midnight. You stepped out onto a snow-slicked sidewalk in order to hear him, disappointing the hell out of the girl whose lips wanted to kiss you into the new year. You ignored her pout, ignored the chill in the air, and focused on the way Jimin’s raspy voice had dropped an octave. He was asleep when you swung by shortly after with a box of tissues and a bottle of decongestants, but that didn’t matter; his spare key wasn’t well hidden, either.

And again — now — on Valentine’s Day, when you both decided to blow off Seokjin’s deranged, annual Parent Trap scenario.

Sprawled out on his couch like you owned the place, you scrolled idly through Netflix’s home page with your face scrunched. The hand not holding the remote dipped down into the bag of kkokalcorn chips resting on your chest.

“You’ve got an identity crisis in your watch history, Jimin,” you yelled out to him, hoping he’d hear your teasing clearly from where he stood in his kitchen. “I’m having trouble believing that you’re not actually a middle-aged white woman.”

At this, he stopped rummaging through his refrigerator and stood straight up to glare at you. His eyes and mouth all flattened into matching, straight lines.

You rattled off your findings, nudging him further. “The Notebook, Sleepless in Seattle —”

With every title you dropped, so did one of Jimin’s heavy footfalls. He was halfway to you, scowl growing, in the blink of an eye.

“10 Things I Hate About You?” You snorted. “Little too on the nose, don’t you think?”

Standing at the other side of his coffee table, he parked his hands on his hips and scoffed. “My choices are being criticized by an entire adult with corn-chip witch fingers? Are you kidding?”

Sheepishly, you pulled your hand from the kkokalcorn bag. He was correct; you had stuck your fingertips in the openings of the funnel-shaped chips. You wiggled them at him with a coy smile that made him roll his eyes. Satisfied, your mouth claimed the chip perched on the tip of your index finger.

If you didn’t know better, you’d say that the flash in his eyes just then was fondness.

You held the bag out to him, careful not to disrupt the rest of your manicure, and smiled to yourself when he accepted your offer. He tilted the bag and dumped a few of the chips into his open palm. With a small smile, he mused, “Haven’t had these since we were kids.”

That wave of nostalgia must have caught him in a riptide because he went quiet in a way that made you pause. You were about to speak up — to say what, you weren’t sure — but you promptly shut your mouth. Index and middle fingers now extended, he held out his hand to make a peace sign. Each fingertip had a small cone sitting crooked on top.

Jimin laughed unexpectedly, which almost made his already-crinkled eyes disappear completely. “Kinda look like little wizards.”

If you didn’t know better, you’d say that the thumping in your chest just then was fondness.

After shaking your head to clear those thoughts, you realized that the little wizards weren’t holding the glass of hard cider he’d gone to his kitchen to refill. You pushed yourself to your feet with one hand and a playfully exaggerated groan, popping the remaining chips from your fingers into your mouth at once.

“Leaving already?”

He should’ve known better than to ask you a question while your mouth was full, but he didn’t. The explanation he received was therefore unintelligible. Head cocked curiously to the side, lips slightly parted, he tried to connect the dots. Just as soon as he started, he gave up and trailed after you.

Jimin didn’t stop until you did, right in front of his refrigerator. He was so close, in fact, that you accidentally hit him with the door as you pulled it open.

“Oh, shit!” You muttered, shutting the door again quickly.

Wincing, your gaze flitted over to assess the damage you’d done to the outside of his bicep with the metal corner of the door. On instinct, you reached out to run the pads of your fingers over the faint red mark blooming there. Goosebumps spread in the wake of your touch, but you didn’t feel that same phantom chill. Just something electric that sparked against your fingertips.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He said gently. “I don’t bruise like you do.”

In the moment of silence that followed, you felt compelled to lift your eyes but not your hand. Unless you were imagining things, he leaned into your touch, just slightly. Not enough to see, but enough to feel.

It’d crossed your mind a thousand times since you walked through his front door. With that throwaway statement, Jimin confirmed he’d been thinking about it, too — about who you both were on this date last year. About the way you’d only ever let him treat you roughly because anything sweeter threatened the distance you were trying to keep. About the bruises given with no chance to kiss them better.

You weren’t that person anymore, and neither was he.

“Jimin,” you started.

It was the farthest along in your sentence that your voice would let you go. 

After the million baby steps you’d taken in his direction and the healing you’d allow yourself to do, you were still scared to show your cards. Now, you’d seen him in technicolor. Now, if you fucked things up, you’d never be able to go back to black and white.

What if you fuck things up again?

Jimin sensed your hesitation, but he didn’t accept it. Instead, he closed the distance so slowly that your hand wasn’t disrupted from where it rested on his bicep. His hands found you just as easily. One made its home at the small of your back while the other cupped the side of your face. 

With a whisper lighter than air, he asked, “If I kiss you, will you let me?”

His eyes flitted from yours, to your lips, then back again.

“Or will you kamikaze dive into my kitchen table?”

Your reply was even softer than the question posed. “Only one way to find out.”

If the uptick at the corner of his lips told you anything, it was that he intended to.

Cautiously, as if sudden moves would startle you, he pulled your body flush against his. His other hand tilted your face upwards, thumb gently tucked under your chin while the rest of his fingers rested in the space just below your ear. His touch kept your body present even when the sensation of his kiss threatened to sweep your feet out from underneath you.

Plush pink and delicate, his lips molded to yours like they were specially designed to do just that. Like cracks giving way to let the light in, you opened yourself up for him. Licked into his mouth, eager to learn the parts of him you’d missed in all the time you’d shut him out.

And if you listened — really listened, over the moan he swallowed from you — you could’ve sworn you heard all the silly pages of your childhood diary flipping furiously. Scribbled to hell and back with a glitter gel pen, each one noting that this is what you wanted, this is what you wanted, this is everything you wanted.

The eternity in that kiss wasn’t long enough. Eventually, he broke the contact, pulling a disagreeing gasp from you when he pulled away. Your lips buzzed from the sudden loss of pressure — that, or they trembled without the warmth of his mouth. Either way, he was gone too soon. 

The hand you had resting against his bicep slipped down to the center of his chest to tug at the fabric of his t-shirt. Unable to nip that growing neediness in the bud, you frowned. 

“Jimin,” you sighed. You had nothing to follow-up with. His name was the totality of that thought.

Several moments of silence came next. His brow furrowed, like he was trying and failing to find something less vulnerable to say. He couldn’t. When it slipped out, his eyes searched your face for a reaction.

“I want to be soft with you.”

Any time you’d been together before, it was carnal, dripping with unarticulated hurt. He didn’t want that, not this time. You didn’t have to guess why.

Though the level of desperation you both felt now was familiar, the underscore had changed. Jimin wanted to touch you carefully because he felt fragile — so did you. If either of you moved too quickly, too roughly, you ran the risk of upending the balance you’d found. Like you, Jimin seemed to know that this was delicate.

You lifted your hand from his shirt and placed it on top of his where it sat above your jaw. Gently, your fingers wrapped around his and lowered them so you could intertwine them properly. Then, without a word and without letting go, you led him out of the kitchen into the small hallway.

This was the first time you’d crossed his house without sprinting and violently shedding your clothes as you went. It felt like you were seeing it all for the first time because, in a way, you were. 

You’d never noticed the framed photos lining the walls of the hallway, or the subtle notes of grey in the white paint behind them. In all the time you’d spent there before, it’d never clicked that this house was a home. Everywhere, there were hints of him — his interests, his achievements, the friends you’d never met — sitting so blatantly in places you’d previously ignored. 

Jimin apologized when you stepped over the threshold into his bedroom. “My plan was to clean it tomorrow.”

He smiled sheepishly as his free hand carded through the hair at the base of his neck.

“Doesn’t do you any good today, though.”

“I don’t mind,” you hummed in reply, shutting the door slowly behind him. “My plan was to do laundry today, and — well, you’ll see how that worked out for me.”

You kept your fingers interlocked with his while you surveyed his room. Like the rest of the house, you’d been in there countless times before without truly seeing any of it. Apart from the bare minimum clutter he’d needlessly apologized for, every surface was thoughtfully decorated. Even the absence of some keepsake or trinket on his shelf was purposeful. 

He keeps space.

Propped on a stand near his dresser was his guitar, which you didn’t even know he still played. Of course he does, you thought, he’d have been an idiot to throw that talent away. 

You were smiling long before you noticed you were doing it, even more so when you clocked where it sat. Just like it did in his childhood home, the guitar was positioned directly across the room from his doorway — the first and last thing he’d see when he came and left. 

Carefully, you reached out and trailed one finger over the tuning pegs. It all felt forbidden, but stupidly, you felt compelled. You spent a lifetime aching to touch him. For reasons you couldn’t explain, his guitar was no different.

Watching you caress his guitar made his pulse race harder; you could feel it where your wrist aligned with his. If nothing else had changed, you suspected that he still didn’t let anyone lay a finger on it. Jimin always insisted that he did all the maintenance himself because he didn’t trust the technician at the local music shop to be careful enough. 

To your surprise, it didn’t appear to be anxiety spinning circles in his stomach as he watched you. He spun you around, and it was clear from the look in his eye — the unshakeable desire he felt to touch you that same way.

You wondered what he was thinking while he studied your face in silence — if the months he’d spent trying to teach himself to hate it had blurred your features; and if he saw them clearly now.

The smattering of freckles across the bridge of your nose which swept over the tops of your cheekbones — even though it was winter, and you hadn’t seen much of the sun for weeks. 

The small scar interrupting your eyebrow, which you’d gotten when both of your families went camping together a million years ago. He’d sprinted across tide pools to help you back to your feet, reaching you long before Seokjin could catch up.

You didn’t know if it was a conscious decision now, but he leaned down and placed a kiss there the way you wished he had back then. 

“This isn’t still illegal, is it?” He murmured against your skin.

Unable to breathe, let alone speak, you shook your head so subtly that it couldn’t reasonably be counted as movement. Your next move was bolder, though: You unzipped your sweatshirt, shrugged your way out of it, and let it fall at your feet. 

With a quick glance down, you remembered what you were wearing and cringed with your whole body.

Neither of your socks matched; your sweatpants had a hole near the crotch; and your sweatshirt’s sole task had been to hide the ratty, old MapleStory t-shirt that you stole from Seokjin when he went off to college.

A certifiable mess in a self-imposed dry spell.

Jesus Christ.

“Laundry day,” you blurted out in explanation, though he hadn’t asked. He wasn’t laughing, either — not reacting in any way to roast you the way you expected him to. Still, the tips of your nose and ears burned with embarrassment. “I didn’t plan for… this.”

His index finger dipped under the hem of your t-shirt and his thumb mirrored the way it traced the stitching. 

“I kind of forgot that you own shit like this.” He replied softly, looking more pensive than usual. “Never see you in sweats.”

It was a fair point.

Jimin had slept next to you on three occasions — when the rules permitted — and you always woke up the same way you’d fallen asleep: completely naked. Somehow, it felt even more intimate for him to see what you wore when you went to bed without him. The silly, branded t-shirt probably said more about you than your bare chest did.

You realized that you’d never seen him in his current state before, either, with black joggers hanging low on his hips. His fluffy, air-dried hair didn’t sit smoothly the way it normally did. You wanted so badly to run your fingers through it, but there was a stronger compulsion to reckon with:

His shirt was ripped at the hem, not quite covering the lower inches of his torso.

Unthinkingly, your hand reached out so your fingers could rest against the skin there, midway down faint the trail of hair that dipped under the waistband of his pants. So much warmer than you, he shivered at your touch. You paused, self-conscious, then glanced up at him with eyebrows raised.

Is this okay?

You didn’t have to ask out loud to get an answer. It came as a whisper — “cold hands” — and it was accompanied by a smile that made your knees weak.

He nodded towards the other side of his room and said, “C’mere.” 

The hand that previously held yours found it again. Fingers slipping easily into the spaces between yours, he led and you followed. 

The crisply folded sheets contrasted completely with the effortless coziness of the rest of the space, but they didn’t stay that way for long. With his free hand, Jimin gripped the comforter and tugged it loose. It fluttered and fell freely back down over the bed.

Sighing reflexively, you slipped into the opening he’d created within the blankets. Every fiber smelled like him — clementine flower, orange blossom, water lily and orris — and now, so would you.

Jimin waited for you to scoot over before filling the space next to you, tilting his body inward to keep his eyes on you. His bent knee pressed against your outer thigh. It was chaste, especially when you considered the thousand other ways he’d touched you, but it had you vibrating in place, nonetheless. He probably felt it when he leaned in and kissed you for the third time, fingers sliding into your hair.

Tangled in him, your intrusive thought won out. Loose, it flew like a ping-pong ball around the inside of your skull: He can probably feel all that dry-shampoo, too. 

Like he was begging you to focus, the tip of his tongue flicked across your bottom lip and stole a whimper. Your lips parted eagerly against his to accommodate him; both of you starving for every bit of tenderness you’d refused to let him give before. 

As he poured more of himself into that kiss, the hand in your hair ran slowly down the length of your neck, over the slope of your shoulder, and down the curve of your torso. It stopped on the top of your thigh, warming you through to your bones. For the first time, his fingers didn’t dig harshly into the doughy flesh he found there. Now, his feather-light touch left you buzzing instead of bruised.

With every second that passed, your tingling spine struggled more and more to hold you upright. Noting the slight shift in your posture, Jimin guided you — still lip-locked — to rest your head on his pillows. It wasn’t until you tilted your head slightly to the side that his lips left yours; dipped down below your jaw to pepper the exposed skin there with unbearably soft kisses.

Each one made your pulse race harder than the last, pulled needy little breaths out of your mouth.

“Sound so pretty when you sigh like that,” he hummed against your throat. “Might have to kiss you like this forever if this is what it gets me.”

You’d been underneath him more times than you could presently recall, but never like this. Until now, you never understood how a person could say they loved you without any words at all, but you heard it. More than anything, you felt it in every brush of his lips — in the static crackling around you, charged with every little, languid line his tongue left behind.

The only thing distracting from your swelling heart was the wetness pooling in the bikini bottoms you’d hastily thrown on in the absence of clean underwear.

Fucking laundry day.

The sole consolation was the fact that the blend of polyester and elastane was better suited for a flood than any lace you would’ve consciously selected.

The breath behind his words tickled and surprised you, derailing your train of thought.

“Is it against the rules to tell you how beautiful I think you are?”

The circles he drew against the fabric of your sweatpants had you hypnotized, but you still managed to reply, “No more rules. Except — Oh, fuck.”

You mewled at the sensation of him suckling at the spot where your neck joined your shoulder. 

“Except that you can’t ever stop.”

His lips curled into a smile against the love bite he’d so carefully crafted. 

“I won’t,” he murmured before placing a kiss in the same spot he’d marked. “But I may need an intermission to get these incredibly chic clothes off your body. Kind of feels sacrilegious, though, I’ve gotta say.”

Your eyes flickered over to him, eyebrows raised. He pursed his lips to keep from smiling, forced the straightest face he could muster, then traced his fingertip over the rip in the crotch of your sweatpants. Sounding downright reverent, he explained, “They’re holey.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” You dropped your head back against the pillows with a groan that didn’t outgun your laughter. “Straight to jail for that. Seriously, that’s a federal crime.”

When your eyes stopped rolling and settled on him, Jimin was already looking down at you with amusement sparkling in the deep brown of his irises. He said nothing, opting instead to kiss you — for the fourth time — as a farewell before pulling away entirely. 

The spot next to you went cold as soon as he sat up, but — bravely — you didn’t complain. You watched with your bottom lip pinched between your teeth. He grabbed the end of his haphazardly, perfectly cropped t-shirt and pulled it off over his head. 

Your only instinct was to reach up to his bare chest and trace every plane of it. To your dismay, Jimin intervened. Fingers at the hem of your top now, he stared expectantly at you until you stretched your arms above your head. That stupid, stolen shirt was guided up and off before it was discarded somewhere unseen.

Jimin’s pupils dilated immediately, gaze sweeping over your bare chest like he was beyond grateful that all your bras were at home, drowning in your washing machine. Uninhibited, he leaned forward. The delicate, cuban-link chain of necklace tickled the skin of your stomach while he placed an open-mouthed kiss in the space between your breasts. Cool to the touch, you shivered for more reasons than one.

When his tongue flicked out over one erect nipple, all you could offer was a breathy sigh, brain scrambled to hell and back. He seemed to draw inspiration from this — him and his goddamn mouth promptly switched tactics. Mimicking you, he looked up at you from under his lashes and blew a warm stream of air over your other nipple.

You were full-out whimpering underneath him. “Shit.”

“Yeah?” He smirked before taking the pebbled bud into his mouth and sucking softly, eyes still locked on yours. 

Can I cum from this?

Oh god, I really might cum from this.

His mouth’s ministrations continued while his hands swept gently down the curves of your waist. That is, until they reached the elastic waistband of your sweatpants. Abruptly, Jimin stopped and sat back onto his calves.

You didn’t have to ask. Jimin’s eyes widened in tandem with the grin on his face; and you knew what he’d discovered. Smiling now with all his teeth, he tugged playfully at the knotted tie sitting above your right hip, keeping your bikini bottoms in place.

He snorted incredulously, “Be fucking for real.”

“Stop.” The word was elongated as you whined. It was useless, but you swatted at his arm. “I told you — ”

“I know, I know. It’s laundry day.” Fuck, his affection for you was written all over his face. “Incredible — truly, I have no notes.”

You buried your face in your hands to hide from him, but he didn’t let you. Just like he did that time on your couch, Jimin pulled your hands away from your face and held them in his own. This time, when he kissed you, you didn’t tear yourself away from him. Instead, you did the opposite. You grabbed the sides of his face in your hands and leaned into him.

With his hands now free, he was able to push your sweatpants down the rest of the way without extricating his lips from yours. Those fucking bikini bottoms went with them when he slipped the fabric over your ankles and tossed them blindly over his shoulder.

Mouth moving hungrily against yours, his hand hovered over your cunt, radiating warmth. You fought to keep your last shred of patience but lost, shifting underneath him to beg wordlessly for his touch. He obliged. His middle finger dipped between your sopping folds until it found the swollen bead of your clit and spiraled over it.

“Fuck,” you moaned into his mouth. He swallowed it, kissed you so deep your mind went blank.

The slow pace he’d chosen normally would have driven you mad, but instead of coming across as a taunt — or a punishment — you got the impression that he was basking in your arousal. That he was taking his time, savoring you and the million ways your body craved his.

When you pulled back, your lips were kiss-bitten and palpably swollen. He must have felt your quickened breath against his own lips. They autonomously curved into the tiniest sliver of a smile. 

Watching him watch you, it was clear that Jimin loved you like this — wide-eyed, unguarded, inviting. He loved you generally. You knew that much for certain as he gazed down at you, and you were so fucking thankful that neither of you had to keep pretending otherwise.

Whatever trance he’d fallen into ended when you whispered, “Please.”

Though your plea wasn’t much more than an exhale, he didn’t need to be told twice. Momentarily, he stood; and as he did, your own hand dipped down between your legs. He stepped out of his joggers with his focus trained on you, staring spellbound while you touched yourself in his absence. Wet enough to drip.

If you had to wager on it, you’d bet that he could’ve stood there all night observing, listening to the way you moaned as you slicked your own fingers, but the darkened tip of his cock was weeping like he wanted you badly enough to ache. Completely incapable of spending any more time as a bystander, he fell to his knees between your legs. There, he guided them further apart with his hands.

Desperately, you grabbed one of his hands from where it sat on your knee and pulled him so that he was leaning over you once again. You wanted to feel the way his breath caught as he entered you, bare chest pressing into yours while he filled you. Needed him — just him — all the time.

Forearms now pressed to the mattress and fingers in your hair, he caged you in. His forehead came to rest against yours when you reached into the space between your bodies and dragged his tip through the mess he’d made of you. That faint squelch was obscene enough in the quiet of his room. It couldn’t hold a candle to the groan that escaped his chest when he finally entered you.

“Holy shit.” He exhaled sharply through gritted teeth. Your walls enveloped him, squeezing tight enough that no question remained about where he belonged. “Fucking missed you.”

That initial, perfect ache threatened to blind you, but it wouldn’t have mattered with the way your eyes screwed shut — too overcome with want to do much more than breathe. Slowly, inch by inch, his cock stretched you until he bottomed out. It was the closest thing you’d ever had to an out-of-body experience.

“Missed you,” you mumbled.

Well beyond fuck drunk, you bordered on incoherent. A kiss on your forehead lassoed you, brought you crashing back down. It was redundant, but he murmured, “Come back to me.”

You blinked up at him in a haze.

“Want you to look at me.” 

He sounded shy, more vulnerable than you’d ever heard him, and you didn’t need any further explanation.

Eye contact had never been on the table before, deemed early on to be far too fucking intimate. If this is what he wanted, you decided, you’d never take your eyes off him again. Especially not when he looked at you the way he did then, like you hung the fucking stars in the sky.

You countered, “Kiss me.”

And he did, like he might never get the chance again.

No amount of closeness could’ve been enough, but you settled for wrapping your legs around him. With his range of motion now limited, he grinded against you; the curve of his cock rubbed against that secret spot behind your pubic bone. 

Bones? Do you still have any of those?

Every tantalizing, slow thrust made it harder for you to remember why you’d ever required harshness when his gentleness now was infinitely more intense. It was so much better — being loved by him rather than hated.

Desperate fingers left half-moon imprints on his back, which was beginning to slick with sweat. The spaces between your whimpers lessened while the pressure in your abdomen began to build. Jimin had you teetering at the edge of the world, and you told him so with your lips at his ear, “Please — I’m so close.”

His forehead creased, and you watched in real time as determination etched itself into his features. He was perfect — beautiful — and he was close, too. You clenched; he cursed, “Fuck.”

You looked up at him through fluttering lashes, silently begging him not to stop. Not now, not ever. Stay.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted,” Jimin murmured, burying himself deeper with every thrust. “You know that, right? How much you mean to me?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

He watched your face as you came — when your eyes rolled back, and your head tilted against his pillows. Your legs loosened their binds around him as they shook, gasping moans tumbling out of your open mouth. His pace didn’t falter; his presence deep inside of you only elongated your orgasm.

Bliss.

You were still fluttering around his length when your eyes finally drifted open again. Not even through your first aftershocks, his panting breaths alone could’ve pushed you headfirst into a second orgasm.

His gaze had dropped at some point to see the way your cunt clung to him with every backstroke. He must’ve felt you staring, though; he looked back up at you, pupils blown wide. That was all it took to dot stars along the edges of your vision.

Back arching up off the mattress, you gushed around him once again. Mindless babbling — consisting only of his name and expletives — fell clumsily off your tongue. It caught both of you off-guard when your shaky voice managed to plead, “Wanna feel you cum — please. Want you to let go for me.”

Only after you begged him did his thrusts become desperate, reckless. There was the unmistakable sound of your wetness and skin colliding with skin, and then there was the low moan that built in the seat of his chest and broke free. Face buried in the crook of your neck as he came, the heat of his breath on your skin was rivaled only by the dizzying warmth of his release spilling into you.

He struggled to hold himself up while his spent cock still twitched inside of you. If you were being honest, you adored the way his weight pinned you against his mattress. Maybe, you thought, you could stay there forever.

Eventually, an exhausted voice came from the curve of your shoulder, almost too muffled to hear.

“How is it —” Jimin panted. “— That in the hundred times we’ve had sex, it never felt like that?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. Tingling fingertips ran lightly and lazily across his shoulder blades. The hint of hesitation bubbling in the pit of your stomach cautioned you not to speak your thoughts out loud, so you stared at the ceiling above you and willed yourself to be brave.

Your voice threatened to give up on its way out.

“Nobody’s ever fucked me like they love me before.”

He mustered all the energy he still had to turn his head and look at you. At first, you couldn’t tear your eyes off the ceiling to look back. Make space, you begged yourself; and so, you did.

With his chest resting heavily on yours, you wondered if he could feel the way your heart skipped a beat at that eye contact alone. The glimmer in his eye informed you that, yes, he could. 

“Better get used to it, then.” He punctuated his thought by pressing his lips to your temple. “‘Cause that’s what you signed up for.”

You smirked, “Oh? Was there a contract?”

You might’ve kept teasing him if he didn’t tilt your head to kiss you properly — and fuck, you were melting all over again.

“Sealed with a kiss, no less.” He leaned down to nip affectionately at your earlobe. Mouth at the shell of your ear, he purred. “Like any deal with the devil should be.”

“Goddamn.” You whistled. “Promoted from menace to devil already. Congratulations.”

With a roll of his eyes, he pulled out of you and forced himself upright to his feet. Before you could even ask him to, Jimin leaned down to kiss the lips you’d poked out into a pout. Your voice was uncharacteristically needy as your question slipped out.

“You are coming back, right?”

“Nope,” he hummed against your lips. You leaned away from him with your jaw dropped incredulously. “I’m taking a shower and I’m taking you with me.”

That was the only warning you got before one of Jimin’s arms slipped under the hinge of your knees, and the other disappeared behind your back. You screamed. Instead of flailing — a one-way ticket to the floor, you imagined — you threaded your arms around his neck and clung to him as if your life depended on it.

“Pardon me,” you sputtered. “But what the fuck is happening right now?”

“Shhh — pipe down. I’m keeping a promise.”

You stared at him expectantly. For a moment, he ignored you and continued quietly on his way towards the bathroom. It wasn’t until he reached the threshold that he paused with a sigh.

The look he shot you then was far more earnest than you could’ve expected under the circumstances. One that said he saw you, not through you, and he wasn’t going to look away.

Jimin said it breezily, like it cost him even less than the air it took to vocalize it: “I am not letting you down again.”

A pinprick of tears stung the corners of your eyes. You fought like hell to keep them where they belonged. It was such a stupid joke — made so lightly — and it still held more weight than anything you’d ever heard.

Eyes swimming despite your resistance, you sniffled and laughed. “Not, like, literally, though — right?”

“Aw, baby.” He kissed your temple again, cooing. Part of you hated it, but the rest of you swooned. “Don’t test me.”

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#jimin smut #jimin x reader #jimin angst #park jimin smut #park jimin x reader #park jimin angst #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts angst #bts smut #park jimin #jimin #pjm #jade writes #re: menace #micdropnet #btsafterdarknet

[diabolik-art-blog]

Moni's Ships Ranking

Inspiration by @callmeklair and @its-irsaa-fyp

OK let's go with my ranking for all DL ships. All these ranking is my personal opinion and nobody have to be agree with it. So be respectful and don't impose your opinions to me. Thank you ^^

1_ Shu Sakamaki x Yui Komori

This ship is my comfort ship. From all stories even out of DL fandom. Their relationship is so adorable. Shu is so loyal to Yui. And he improved a lot just because of Yui. He learnt to love and care for people who are important to him. And even when Yui was blind Shu didn't give up on her and continues his love to her. He afraid of fire but jumped into fire to save Yui. And even in Ruki's lost eden bad ending Shu protected Yui after she lost her mental health. This man is great. His love to Yui is so adorable.

2_ Ruki Mukami x Yui Komori

I love Ruki so much and in my opinion he can be best boyfriend for Yui in some ways. Ruki and Yui both love books and I can see they spending their times on reading books and sharing their ideas together. Ruki really improved so much. When he found out that he doesn't want to be snake and he wants to love Yui and betrayed Karlheinz shows that he can change so much because of Yui. And I love how Ruki calls Yui Angel. Because she really is.

3_ Carla Tsukinami x Yui Komori

I guess you all see that I have a soft side for older brother T_T . Carla is Victorian king to me and I really love historical and Victorian stories. Even though Carla started very rough but we see how much he improved. He always said that Yui taught him kindness and I really adore their ship. Carla learned to Love just because of Yui.

4_ Subaru Sakamaki x Yui Komori

I think this ship is already enough popular. Both in Japanese and western fandom. After Shuyui this ship is second in Japan and I don't blame them. Subaru is so adorable and he really loves Yui to the point he can't live without Yui. His tsundere and soft side towards Yui always make me cry so loud T_T. Pure angel with another angel is best.

5_ Kino Sakamaki x Yui Komori

After reading lost Eden I suddenly trapped by Kino. He is just a cutie and he needs more attention by fandom. When he said he loves Yui even more than his own life I felt my heart was going crazy. He is my baby boy. And I love his ship with Yui.

6_ Yuma Mukami x Yui Komori

Baby bear with his tiny girlfriend. Shut up their relationship is God. They are so fucking adorable together I can't T_T and let's accept Yuma has saddest bad endings. Whenever he loses Yui, he apologize for failing to protect her. This boy is really angel and nobody can change my mind.

7_ Laito Sakamaki x Yui Komori

Let me be honest guys. I have a very big dirty mind and Laito's completes it so well. TBH I didn't like Laito's HDB route. It was too cruel for my baby girl Yui. But let's accept Laito improved almost more than all characters.

8_ Kou Mukami x Yui Komori

Well Kou is kinda like Laito. He was so sadistic at first. But he saw Yui as his blue sky and I adore it so much. If he tries more he can be a really good boyfriend.

9_ Shin Tsukinami x Yui Komori

My feelings towards them is a little complicated. I need to know them more but still I like them so much.

10_ Reiji Sakamaki x Yui Komori

Don't blame me. Reiji is always against my baby Shu so I can't love him that much. But his ship with Yui is so fucking hot. Really daddy.

11_ Azusa Mukami x Yui Komori

Azusa is literally an angel. I almost love him as much as I love Yui. But you know his ship with Yui is so soft and cute. I can't help my dirty mind but I need sexy ships more. Still in my personal opinion Azusa is the only one who really deserves Yui.

12_ Kanato Sakamaki x Yui Komori

Kanato is not my type. Most of the times he scares me and I think Yui has very hard time with him. Of course Kanato grows but poor Yui is really tired. I hope Kanato grows more.

13_ Ayato Sakamaki x Yui Komori

Sorry not sorry but I even don't ship Ayato with Yui. Because I don't like him. He always gets on my nerves and he is not really my cup of tea. I still respect his fans and I know he has a lot and I ask them to respect me too. I think rejet completely forgot about other boys and everything is about Ayato just because they wanna make him look popular and big????? Sorry but Ayato really doesn't need this attention by rejet. He already has enough attention and rejet is making other boys to be forgotten. I really don't like it. His personality is not my type. Sorry.

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #yui komori #Shuyui #reiyui #ayayui #kanayui #laiyui #subayui #rukiyui #kouyui #yumayui #azuyui #carlayui #shinyui #kinoyui #shu sakamaki #reiji sakamaki #ayato sakamaki #kanato sakamaki #laito sakamaki #subaru sakamaki #ruki mukami #kou mukami #yuma mukami #azusa mukami #carla tsukinami #shin tsukinami #kino sakamaki #moni issues