#just to come home and keep cleaning up the tree mess for hours at a time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 3 months

Text

Napoleonville [Chapter 5: The Haunted House]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, smoking, drinking, drugs, infidelity, kids, parenthood, Adventures With Aegon, Targ family dysfunction, bodily injury, no Willis this time yay!!! 🥳

Word Count: 7.3k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @toodlesxcuddles @era127 @at-a-rax-ia @0eessirk8 @arcielee @dd122004dd @humanpurposes @taredhunter @tinykryptonitewerewolf @partnerincrime0 @dr-aegon @persephonerinyes @namelesslosers @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @daenysx @gemini-mama @chattylurker @moonlightfoxx @huramuna @britt-mf @myspotofcraziness @padfooteyes @aemonddtargaryen @trifoliumviridi @joliettes @darkenchantress @florent1s @babyblue711 @minttea07 @libroparaiso @bluerskiees @herfantasyworldd @elizarbell @urmomsgirlfriend1 @fudge13 @strangersunghoon

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 🥰🧁

Every house is haunted, not just by phantoms of the past but by the ghosts of what could have been. They live in shadows, in doorways, in the periphery of your vision; you walk through them like smoke or mist. Their blood—pooled and pulseless—is a cold spot in a sweltering room, their fingerprints are the woodgrain swirls of floorboards. If you listen closely, you can hear them at night in the chorus of the cicadas and the owls and the wet westbound wind. They whisper questions you’ve never been able to answer: Have I made the right choices? Have I done the best I could? Is love a myth or does it only exist for other people? Am I a prisoner of the past or the future or myself? Why have I never been chosen?

In the bathtub, you stare at the pale blue walls veined with cracks like the legs of a spider. On the tree swing in the front yard—here long before you moved in, inherited from the effort and care of another family’s hands—you skim your bare feet over emerald blades of grass and watch the lightning bugs appear at dusk. In Cadi’s room, you play the Nintendo when she asks and try to forget who gave it to her; and when she asks about Aemond, you say he’s busy with work, because how else can you explain his absence to a child? In the kitchen, you break eggs into glass bowls of vanilla, sugar, flour, butter, baking powder, but you keep getting pieces of shell in the mix, something that almost never happens anymore. You snap, grab an egg, pitch it against the refrigerator where it explodes into calcium carbonate shrapnel and sterile yellow gore.

Amir looks up, startled. Behind his rectangular tortoiseshell glasses, his eyes dart between you and the viscera that stains the refrigerator door. At last he says softly, seriously: “What is it you liked so much about him?” Implicit in this statement are others: You’ve never liked a man this much. You’ll never see Aemond again.

You study your palms, tools of creation, tools that destroy. “I spend every second of my life consumed by responsibilities. The house, the car, the bakery, the bills, Cadi, Willis, myself, even you. There’s no one to tell me what the right thing to do is. There’s no one who can carry the weight for me. I can’t show it when I’m tired or frustrated or scared. And so to have someone who—even for an hour, even for fifteen minutes—could take care of me, and make all the decisions, and convince me to trust him…it’s the closest I ever get to being at peace.”

Amir gives you a sad, vanishingly small smile. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me too.” And you wet a dishcloth so you can begin to clean up your mess.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Thursday, and you’re coming home after delivering cakes for a birthday party down in Thibodaux. Your car radio is blaring Message In A Bottle by The Police. When you roll into the gravel driveway, the red Audi Quattro is waiting for you: parked right beside the house, like he belongs here, like he owns it. You throw open the door of your Chevy Celebrity and rage up the sloping, groaning steps of the front porch.

The first thing that hits you is the cold. There is an ambient humming, a chill that raises goosebumps on your bare arms. When you rush to the kitchen, you find an air conditioning unit in one of the windows, a metal box that turns the Fall-Down House into a tundra. They’re sitting at the hastily-cleared counter: Aemond leafing through the ledger book containing the financial records for the bakery, Amir beside him sipping a glass of sweet tea. Aemond glances up at you and then back down at the pale green pages, the lines of his face intense, focused. Amir greets you with a nervous titter, hiding behind his sweet tea. Ice jangles in the glass.

“What the fuck is that?”

“Our new air conditioner!” Amir says, overjoyed. “The customers are going to love it. No more waiting around in a stifling kitchen. You know how miserable it gets in here during the summer. We won’t be able to get rid of them! They’ll be purchasing cupcakes by the dozen just to have an excuse to get out of the heat!”

Aemond is still scrutinizing the ledger. “Why aren’t you buying more things in bulk?” he asks Amir. “The shelf life on things like sugar and flour has got to be six months at least.”

“We don’t have the liquid capital. We can’t spend cash if we don’t have cash.”

“And all these business expenses—mixers, coolers, pans, blenders, knives, the gas you burn when you make deliveries, the water you use to wash dishes—those are all tax write-offs, right?”

Amir hesitates. Aemond is aghast, his eyebrows shooting up into the blonde hair that shags over his forehead. The strands are damp with sweat and curling at the edges; he’s been working hard. He’s the one who heaved the air conditioner up onto the window ledge. His Marlboro jacket is draped over the back of his barstool. He’s wearing jeans, a black MTV t-shirt, and his Adidas sneakers.

“Please tell me you haven’t been paying income tax on money you aren’t actually keeping.”

“I didn’t know what we were allowed to write off, I was petrified to make a mistake! I don’t want to end up in Rikers!”

“They don’t put people in Rikers for tax evasion. You’d only go to minimum security.”

Amir rolls his eyes. “Well now you’ve convinced me.”

You are betrayed, furious. “You’re showing him the book?”

“He’s very bossy,” Amir says, slurping his sweet tea. “As you know.”

Aemond asks you, making notes on a legal pad he’s commandeered: “Do you have an IRA?”

“A what?”

“An IRA,” Aemond repeats slowly, emphasizing every syllable. “An individual retirement account.”

Should I? Could I? What the hell is that? “Um. I don’t think so.”

Aemond sighs, exasperated. He jots down another bullet point on his legal pad. “You need one.”

“I need you to get out of my house.”

“Shh!” Amir pleads. “He bought us an air conditioner!”

“Do you know how much that’s going to cost us in electricity? The bill is going to go through the roof. We’re not going to be able to afford this. And he doesn’t care, because he hasn’t even thought of it. Drop an oil rig into a lake and solve the unemployment crisis. Throw an air conditioner in a window and buy someone’s loyalty. He doesn’t understand us. He doesn’t care about us. He’s not capable of it.”

“I’ll pay for the electricity,” Aemond says. Now he’s looking at you.

“Get out,” you demand.

He seems—perplexingly—to be genuinely wounded. “I’m trying to help you.”

“Get out!”

Aemond stands, walks to you, backs you up until your shoulder blades hit the refrigerator. The metal door is cluttered with Cadi’s drawings, secured there with multicolored alphabet magnets: dinosaurs eating people, Rambo, astronauts rocketing to the moon, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Aemond is so close you can smell the cigarette smoke and cologne and sweat on him, see the smudges of ink on his fingers. His right eye travels all over you, defiant and hungry. His left eye—and you only notice when there’s no space left between you—is an impassive, glassy, not-quite-identical blue that never moves. It’s an imposter, and a very good one; but it’s not him. You think, unable to say it: What happened to your face? Who hurt you? Instead you strike out to shove Aemond away with both hands.

“Get out of my house—!”

“You want to get rough with me? Will that make you feel better?” he murmurs darkly, ignoring your palms when they collide with his chest, his collarbones, his jaw. Your flesh can’t hurt him, it can only graze his skin like stray bullets. “You want to hit me? Go ahead. I’ve had worse. I promise you I have.”

“I hate you!”

But you haven’t said the right word, and you both know it. He grabs your wrists, holds them still, whispers low and menacing into your ear as you struggle to rip your hands out of his grasp. “I dreamed about you all night. Tying you down, stretching you open. I want that. I think you do too.”

“I don’t want it,” you hiss; but already you’re imagining him on top of you, inside you, in control of you, and to resist that is like trying to fight the instinct to seek water, sleep, sunlight.

“Then tell me to stop.”

You glare up at Aemond, raging, burning. His gaze locks with yours and stays there. You are suddenly aware of the heat of his fingers linked around your wrists, of the pressure of his hips against yours as he pins you to the refrigerator. You can’t say it. I don’t want him to stop touching me. I don’t want him to leave and never come back.

Again, Aemond dares you: “Tell me to stop.”

From the kitchen counter, Amir is gawking at you both, his eyes huge, stunned, painfully uncomfortable. Nonetheless, he doesn’t look away. “I’m not leaving,” he informs Aemond. Just in case you’re weak enough to agree to something you’ll regret later; just in case you need a friend.

The spell breaks, the curse lifts. Aemond releases you and takes several steps back. He breathes deeply, running his fingers through his damp hair, composing himself. “You’re a good person,” he says to Amir.

“Thanks. I’m afraid I can’t return the compliment.”

Aemond turns back to you. Now he’s penitent, measured. Already, a part of you misses the weight of his bones on yours. But that’s not why Aemond is here. “Let me talk. Let me explain.”

No, you almost say. I’m not interested. I don’t want you anymore. There’s nothing you can tell me that will make me feel at peace with you again.

Instead, after long moments colored by waning sunlight and the whirring of the new air conditioner in the window: “Okay.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re on the tree swing, gripping the ropes and swaying slightly back and forth as you push off with your bare feet, rocking from your heels to your toes and then back again. Aemond lights a cigarette and takes a drag as he sits cross-legged on the grass in front of you. Amir keeps peeking out from between the blinds of the living room windows. Aemond glances around the yard, and you realize he’s searching for the alligator. His Marlboro jacket is folded neatly on the ground next to him.

“The gator’s not here right now, Aemond. She’s probably over in the trees. She’s not going to hurt you.”

He nods, but he doesn’t seem convinced. He fidgets restlessly with his cigarette.

All that money, all that power, all that ecological ruin, and he’s petrified of a five-foot gator that’s probably never eaten anything bigger than a pelican. It’s ridiculous. You smile weakly. “I think you have a phobia.”

He gestures to his scar, to his ruined left eye. “I’m afraid one will sneak up on me and I won’t be able to see it.”

He’s never spoken like this to you before, acknowledging his limitations, his impairment. He’s trying to be honest. He really is. “Where’s Christabel?”

“Back in the U.K.”

“When are you getting married?”

He shrugs, uninterested. “A few months from now, I guess. July. August. It doesn’t matter. I’m not really involved in the planning.”

“You’re a cheater,” you say. It comes out less accusatory than mournful. Why did you have to disappoint me? Why did you have to ruin this?

Aemond is dismissive. He puffs on his cigarette. “Everyone cheats.”

“No they don’t.”

“Everyone from my world cheats,” Aemond amends. “You marry for money or status or land or whatever, to prove you can snag someone who should be above you, to make your parents proud of you, to make sure your children have the right last name and titles. Then when the novelty fades—and it does, it always does—you find passion elsewhere.”

“That’s barbaric.”

“That’s aristocratic. Poor people get divorced two or three times. They have public brawls and call the cops on each other. We just have a different solution to life’s inevitabilities. My mother cheats with Criston, Daemon and Rhaenyra cheated with each other, I cheat with you, Aegon cheats with…I couldn’t even list them. A lot of people.”

Aegon. So that’s the debaucherous brother’s name. “Not all fancy rich people cheat. Prince Charles doesn’t cheat.”

Aemond bursts out laughing. “Of course he does! He’s been fucking Camilla Parker Bowles since like 1970!”

Your stomach sinks. Poor Diana. “I thought they were just friends now.”

“Yeah, sure, that’s what the tabloids say.” He inhales smoke—cancerous, lethal—and then exhales it in a grey gale like fog. “I think they stopped for a few years after he got married. But presently they spend as much time as they possibly can rendezvousing at all their friends’ country estates. Charles and Diana are miserable, but they’ll never split up. She’s entertaining herself with a cavalry officer named James Hewitt. Who looks suspiciously like Prince Harry, by the way.”

“And who does your father fuck on the side? Nancy Reagan?”

“He prefers the memory of a dead woman to my living mother. I’d say that counts as infidelity.”

The photograph Aegon showed me on the Targaryens’ refrigerator. Rhaenyra’s mother. And what else had been on that refrigerator? Pictures of the rest of the family? Old sketches and report cards? Souvenirs? A calendar with upcoming birthdays circled or starred? No. There was nothing. You consider Aemond with a disorienting blend of pity and barbed, venomous frustration. “I’m sorry Viserys has never been a good father to you. But that’s not an excuse to ruin other people’s lives.”

“Look, what you did…” Aemond begins with sizable effort. He puts the end of his cigarette out on the sole of one of his Adidas sneakers. “To walk away from something you believe isn’t right when everyone else is telling you to stay…that’s not easy. And maybe for you it didn’t feel so insurmountable because you’ve had to learn how to survive painful things on your own before. But all I’ve ever done was break my own bones so my father would notice me. I don’t mean that as a metaphor. I’ve fractured my ribs, my hands, my skull. And it’s still not enough. Love isn’t given in my family. I have to earn it. It’s all I know.”

“You could learn something new.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t. I won’t. That’s not a language I speak.”

Exactly how bad of a father was Viserys Targaryen? “Aemond, what happened to your face?”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

You study him. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to be my Camilla,” Aemond says.

“No. No way.” But you’re amazed by how badly you want to say yes. One word and he’ll touch me again? One word and I can have him back the way we were before? It doesn’t seem possible to resist that. It’s not something that should be expected of any mortal.

“I want to be around you. I want you to keep making me feel the way you do, because it’s…it’s…it’s not something I get from anyone else. And I want to make your life better. I have the ability to do that.”

“Because you’re an oil tycoon.”

“Yes,” Aemond agrees. “I was born to be one, and so I am. But even if I wasn’t—if I refused, if I died—it’s not like the trillion-dollar industry would just disappear. There’s Jade Dragon, sure, but there’s also ExxonMobil, Shell, British Petroleum, Chevron, Valero, Marathon, a hundred others. Someone would be drilling on Lake Verret regardless. But the person in charge might be less scrupulous than I am. I’m doing the best I can here.”

“Were you in Ketchikan when the spill happened there?”

“No. I’ve never been to Alaska. That was someone else’s project. It was a fuckup, it was Jade Dragon’s fault. But my father is the one fighting it in court. I have no control over that.”

Someone else’s project…

“Come to my house tonight,” he says.

“No, Aemond.”

“Then come over on Saturday.” And you think: He remembered which days Cadi is usually with Willis.

“I don’t want to be your mistress.” I want to be more than that, oh God, I want so much more. You think of Christabel touching him and wrenching nausea cuts through you like a blade. You imagine Aemond’s hands taking off her clothes—zippers, buttons, ribbons, belts—and you feel like there’s almost nothing you wouldn’t do to stop it from happening.

“We’re from two very different words,” Aemond says calmly, sensibly. “And it’s going to be impossible for us to understand each other unless we make an effort to learn about where we’ve come from. You’ve invited me into your home, your business, your family, and I’m very grateful for that. Now I need to do the same. And I think if you see more of my life, you’ll realize why I make the decisions I do and what it would mean for us to be together. Because in my experience, husbands and wives aren’t soulmates like they are in books or movies. It’s someone else who you actually…” He breaks off, then continues once he’s decided on the phrasing. “Spend most of your time with.”

Part of you knows that this arrangement would be hopelessly inadequate; you would feel like you were settling for less than you want, you would feel unchosen. But the louder part of you is clinging to it like a life raft. I want him to touch me again. I want him to make me forget about everything else. “I’ll think about it. Visiting the house, I mean.”

“Please do,” Aemond says. “How was Cadi’s weekend fishing?”

He really does listen to you; he remembers things. Even things you mention once and then never again. “She loved it. Willis knows more about the bayou than I’ll ever know about baking. They caught three catfish, four breams, and a bass, and then they made them into fish sticks. Thank God she has one parent who can cook. Even if Willis thinks Hungry Jack mashed potatoes are a vegetable. You know what he puts in the pot instead of milk? Coffee creamer. Cups of it.”

Aemond doesn’t seem pleased to be reminded of Willis’ existence. He says, rather mechanically: “I’m really glad Cadi enjoyed herself.” He grabs his Marlboro jacket, rises to his feet, scans the yard for the alligator. She’s made an appearance at last: she’s sunbathing about ten yards away, nowhere near close enough to be a nuisance. Still, Aemond frowns. Then he clears his face and looks back to you one last time as he strides towards his Audi Quattro. “And Cupcake?”

You peer up at him, shielding your eyes from the late-afternoon sun. “Yeah?”

“When you come to the house…” He grins. Not if. When. “Bring your swimsuit.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You cut the engine and survey the grand entranceway of the house that the Targaryens call The Last Desire, words in Greek that you couldn’t pronounce. The blue merle Great Dane—Vhagar, you recall, yet another bizarre foreign name—is lurking between the towering white columns of the wraparound porch. “Fantastic,” you mutter, stepping out of the car. It’s Saturday, 2 p.m., hot and muggy and cicadas screeching in the southern live oaks. Green anoles dart across the cobblestones and freshly-painted white wood of the porch. Whooping cranes, haughty and fragile, ogle you with reptilian yellow eyes.

You pause when you reach the bottom step of the porch. The Great Dane growls at you, her lips curling up to show long fanglike teeth. You’re carrying two bakery boxes stacked on top of each other: one contains a dozen blueberry pie cupcakes, the second filled with fresh Cap’n Crunch Treats. You glance around for someone to assist you with the hostile dog situation. You have no interest in attempting to shove her away like Alicent did on the day of the engagement party.

Blessedly, the head butler materializes in the doorway and beckons you inside. When Vhagar snarls as you approach, the butler pulls a small plastic water gun from the pocket of his black dress pants. “I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience,” he tells you, and then squirts the dog several times. Vhagar reluctantly lopes away. “Please allow me to escort you to the pool. Mr. Targaryen instructed us to be on the lookout for you.” Then he breezes into the house without checking to make sure you’re following him.

You trot after the butler through the white-and-gold foyer, the deep red living room, and then out into the garden. There is a long row of neon green lounge chairs on the side of the pool opposite of the water slide. Three of the chairs are occupied. Helaena is stretched across one wearing a frilly one-piece, floral with ladybugs; her chameleon is perched on the top of the adjustable backrest. Alicent is in the chair beside her, dressed in a turquoise blue coverup that matches the pool water and reading The Silence of the Lambs. They both wave nonchalantly, seemingly unsurprised by your presence. And then there’s Aegon. He’s smoking a joint as a black boombox beside him plays The Cure’s Why Can’t I Be You? You place both bakery boxes on a table shielded from the sun by a large green umbrella.

“What’s in there?” Aegon asks. He’s wearing pink plastic sunglasses, a radiant fuchsia sunburn, and a Speedo patterned with pineapples. His ferret is curled up in his lap and napping.

“Blueberry pie cupcakes and Cap’n Crunch Treats.”

“Yes! Pass me one of each.”

“Don’t be rude, Aegon,” Alicent says dully, turning a page of her book. “She’s not a servant.”

“She’s a literal baker. I’m asking for baked goods.”

“Dear, I’ve been singing your praises to every single person I cross paths with in this jungle of a town,” Alicent tells you, ignoring him. “Have you noticed yet?”

You hand Aegon his treats; he marvels at the miniature blueberry pie placed atop the cupcake frosting before scarfing it down. “I think we’ve had more customers than usual this week, now that you mention it. Thank you so much! Amir and I are more grateful than we could ever express.”

“Oh, it’s the least I could do, love,” Alicent says. Criston appears with a strawberry daiquiri and gives it to her, complete with a swirl of whipped cream and a little pink toothpick umbrella pierced through a wedge of lime. Criston wears a pair of roomy Hawaiian board shorts and his single gold earring. Alicent takes a sip. “Heavenly! I am completely revived.”

“Helaena, would you like one?” Criston asks.

“Yes please.”

“And one for Aemond’s friend too, please,” Alicent says. Criston nods and hurries off again. Nobody asks if Aegon wants a strawberry daiquiri. He gnaws moodily at his cupcake and then when it’s gone moves on to the Cap’n Crunch Treat. Helaena’s chameleon snatches a dragonfly out of the air with its tongue. Alicent shudders.

Aemond’s friend? Friend?? You sit down on the lounge chair next to Aegon, still wearing your pale pink coverup. He tells you: “Aemond should be back soon. He got a phone call and had to swing by the rigs after lunch but he didn’t think it would take long.” Then Aegon smiles toothily, and you notice he has residual white powder around the corners of his lips and just inside his nostrils. “It’s good to meet you properly this time, now that I’m aware of all your talents.”

“You know about Aemond’s…uh…preferences?”

“Oh yeah, and I knew he had a girl. He always has to have a girl. I just didn’t know it was you. He doesn’t usually bring them around the family.”

You steal a glimpse of Alicent and Helaena. If they’re listening in, they’re doing an excellent job of not acting like they are.

“I think we should address this,” Aegon says.

You are stymied. “Address what?”

“It would never work, me and you.”

“I hadn’t even thought of it.”

“Sure you haven’t,” Aegon says. He flourishes a hand melodramatically. “You need a dom. I am, lamentably, an irredeemable sub. I’m a sheep in wolf’s clothing.”

“Okay, Aegon.”

“I just needed to break the tension.”

“I think you’re imagining that.”

There are footsteps, the slapping of flip flops against the cobblestones, and then someone who looks like a younger, more cheerful, more sober Aegon arrives at the pool. He is dressed in royal blue swim trunks that stop at his mid-thigh; his wavy blond hair is down to his shoulders. Like his family members, he also does not seem at all surprised to see you. “Hi,” he says, shaking your hand. “I’m Daeron. I didn’t get to introduce myself at the engagement party. I’m sorry about that. I was entangled in a very competitive tennis match on the courts out back for most of the day.”

Alicent asks: “Daeron, love, would you like a strawberry daiquiri when Criston reappears?”

“Yeah, Mum, that would be great.” He parks himself on the available chair beside her and begins asking about her book. As they chat, a blue macaw flaps through the garden and uses its long, leathery talons to claim the backrest of Daeron’s lounge chair.

“It’s so sweet of you to take an interest in my reading, Daeron,” Alicent gushes. “None of my other children ever do…”

Aegon groans loudly. Everyone ignores him. Criston arrives with two strawberry daiquiris, one for you and one for Helaena. You take a sip through a plastic straw with several loops in it: icy cold and jarringly sweet.

“And one for Daeron too please, Criston,” Alicent requests. “Did you hear that he just got another article published? It’s about evaluating rock wettability.” Her tone suggests that she has no idea what this means; nonetheless, she is ardently enthusiastic.

“That kid is going places,” Criston says admiringly.

Aegon counters: “That kid’s had phone sex with Michelle Pfeiffer.”

You laugh, thinking that it’s a joke. Daeron just gives you a sheepish smile. Oh, you think. Not a joke.

Criston hustles back inside the house. An old man passes Criston as he strolls out to the pool. He looks around blearily, like he’s hungover or has just woken up from a nap or both. His bloodshot eyes skate over you without much interest. He squints at the pool floats that bob in the rippling, crystalline water, sparkly rings and an assortment of foam noodles and a giant cartoonish alligator.

“How was Kiribati?” Aegon says.

“Much better than here. This goddamn humidity!”

“I can’t believe you missed the engagement party, Father,” Alicent says glumly.

“Oh no, how could I! I’ll never have any way of knowing what transpired!” He plops down onto a chair near the end of the row. His bare feet are gnarled, his toenails long and yellowed. “Let me guess. Cake was served, champagne was toasted, people bragged about their stupid hobbies and their ugly children, that girl scuttled about with her perpetually-startled eyes and asinine comments. Do you remember when she tried to give me her condolences when she learned your mother passed away years ago? Why would I want some moonstruck idiot’s condolences? She didn’t know your mother. She doesn’t know anything.”

“Christabel is very young,” Alicent offers gently.

“She’s very something, that’s for sure. Very useless. Very irritating. This family would be in a much better state if Viserys wasn’t the one making all the decisions. His judgment has declined precipitously.” He casts a poisonous glare at Aegon. Aegon pretends not to notice.

“I like Christabel,” Helaena says. Her chameleon gobbles up a butterfly that ventures too close.

“Yes, I’m sure you do.” The old man’s voice is kinder now. “You see the best in everyone. But dear Helaena, we are in for a lifetime of insipid simpers and vapid conversations.”

“A lifetime?” Aegon says. “So not much longer for you, Grandfather. What a comfort.”

The old man glowers at Aegon. “We should have left you in Alaska to have your throat slit by those animals.” And you hear Aemond’s words reverberating in your skull: I’ve never been to Alaska. That was someone else’s project.

Aegon is rolling himself a fresh joint, accidentally spilling sprinkles of weed on his slumbering ferret. He snorts. “I don’t care what Alaskans think of me.”

Daeron says: “Aegon, you poisoned 1,000 square miles of the ocean.”

“The fucking ocean,” Aegon mutters. “What do we even need the ocean for?”

“Vacations,” Otto says.

Helaena adds: “Sushi.”

Daeron is distressed. “Actually, the ocean is super important.”

“Why are we talking about the ocean?” Aemond asks as he strolls through the garden and pauses by the edge of the pool to dip a foot in to test the temperature. He’s wearing black swim trunks and nothing else, just his skin, just his scar and his glass left eye. He sees you, smiles, goes to the bakery boxes and lifts out a cupcake. He sits down on the edge of your lounge chair as he licks off the wave-blue frosting. No one makes any comment, and no one brings up Aegon’s role in the Ketchikan oil spill again.

Criston returns once more with a strawberry daiquiri for Daeron. “Well, I’ve just about killed the blender, so hopefully we don’t need any more—”

“But Criston!” Alicent cries. “What about Aemond and my father? Perhaps they are in need of refreshments.”

Criston sighs. Crestfallen, he looks at Aemond. “Do you want a strawberry daiquiri?”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll just have a few sips of hers.”

Aegon says: “Can I get a pina colada?”

Criston turns towards the old man. “Otto? Daiquiri?”

“No, but if you could immediately teleport me back to the South Pacific, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Pina colada??” Aegon says again.

“Okay, Aegon,” Criston snaps. “Calm down. Let me figure out if we have any more coconut cream.” Alicent’s part-time bodyguard and personal assistant, part-time babysitter, part-time affair partner vanishes into the house yet again.

Aegon lurches to his feet. “No one listens to me,” he tells you morosely. “You see that? No one remembers. That’s how you know they don’t care.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Alicent tells Aegon, not looking up from her book.

“Wait, someone is missing…” Otto muses, stroking his beard.

Aegon staggers to the edge of the pool, drags over a sparkly turquoise inflatable ring, and flops onto it. He paddles himself out towards the center of the pool. His ferret bounds after him, leaps into the water, and swims until it reaches Aegon, wriggling through the blue like a golden-furred snake. “Hey Sunfyre, you wanted to come too?” Aegon lifts the soaked ferret from the water and places it on his chest, soft and sunburned. “My bad. I assumed you’d prefer dry land.”

Otto—cantankerous and grating—looks around, baffled. “Wait, where’s Viserys?”

“He’s inspecting some of the rigs out in the Gulf of Mexico,” Aemond says as he finishes the cupcake and takes a slurp of your daiquiri. “He won’t be back until the end of the week.”

“Thank God,” Aegon exclaims from the middle of the pool.

Alicent changes the subject. “How long have you been baking, dear?” she asks you.

“Forever, basically. But I started getting serious about making it a business when my daughter was really young, about nine years ago. Now Amir and I sell hundreds of items a week, sometimes thousands.”

Daeron is nodding along, but he appears a little confused. He has gotten himself a Cap’n Crunch Treat and is feeding pieces of it to his blue macaw. “And you do that because…you want to?”

“Well I have to pay rent.”

“Oh. Right. Of course.”

“And I could have been a checkout girl at the Doller General, or worked seasonally harvesting soybeans or sugarcane, or begged my ex-husband to get me a job in the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office…but I wanted to do something that didn’t make me miserable. And something that was really mine, that I chose.” Aemond is watching you thoughtfully. The other Targaryens are a tad interested but far more perplexed. They can’t understand work the way you do. They can’t understand money as something that must be counted.

“Brilliant!” Alicent declares at last. “Well, maybe one day we’ll have you making six cakes for Helaena’s engagement party, who knows!”

“It would be my absolute pleasure. Do you have a potential husband hanging around, Helaena?”

She giggles, covering her blushing face with both hands. Her chameleon creeps down to cling to her shoulder, as if to make sure she’s alright. Its conical eyes flit in random directions, an unmitigated freak of nature. You should have more compassion for it.

Aemond grins. “Helaena is responsible for no less than three broken engagements. She can’t commit.”

“And she’s only into guys who look like Aegon,” Daeron adds.

“No!” Helaena objects. “That is such a lie, that’s not true!”

“Evander?” Daeron says.

Helaena pauses to think. “Okay, yes, he looked kind of like Aegon.”

“He did, didn’t he?” Alicent frets, nibbling at the fingernail of her pinky.

“Dimitri?” Aemond says.

“Oh no,” Helaena moans; but she’s laughing too. “Oh no.”

“Sebastian?” Aegon says, and now they’re all howling.

Otto shakes his head. “Freud would definitely have some thoughts about this.”

“Bloody hell,” Helaena whimpers, swiping tears from her face. Her chameleon nudges her jaw with its shimmering, blue-green muzzle. “I totally only date guys who look like Aegon.”

Aegon shrugs from where he’s floating in the pool with Sunfyre. “Good taste, I’d say. Fuck them all, homegirl.”

“Aegon!” Alicent shouts, scandalized.

Criston dashes out of the house and to the edge of the pool, clutching a pina colada that is swiftly melting. “You better paddle yourself over here, kid. I don’t offer in-water delivery.”

“You’d do it for my mother.”

“Probably. But you’re not her.”

Aegon groans as he splashes around without making much progress. “Okay, okay, give me a second…”

Aemond turns to you. “How do you like the house? I realized I never got the chance to ask last weekend.”

“I like all the stained glass, and I like that every room is a different color. The living room is red, the dining room is yellow, the kitchen is teal, Aegon’s bedroom is black—”

“Wait, how do you know?” Aemond is alarmed.

You chuckle. “No, no, not like that. I was lost and looking for a bathroom.”

“Didn’t do anything,” Aegon announces from his pool float. “Didn’t do it, didn’t try it, didn’t even think about it. Well…maybe I thought about it. But I definitely did not do anything.”

“Okay.” Aemond exhales, relived. “Close call.”

“What color is your room?”

He’s not going to waste the opportunity to extend an invitation. “Let me show you.”

On the same floor as Aegon’s punk rock bedroom and the lilac bathroom, you trail Aemond to the end of the hallway. At last he opens a door to reveal a room that is a deep, vivid blue like sapphires. The bookshelves that touch the ceiling are filled not with texts on engineering or the energy industry but histories of people whose names you don’t recognize. He has a massive wooden canopy bed swathed in dark blue velvet patterned with circling koi fish made of stars. He has a writing desk, a wardrobe full of suits, a television with an extensive VHS collection. The stained glass windows are a whirlpool of cerulean, navy, aquamarine, indigo, steel, azure. When you peer through the glass, you can see the gleaming currents of Lake Verret and the twisted dead ends of the bayou that forms at its edges, treacherous and untamed.

And when you start to feel that if Aemond tried to grab you, undress you, tie knots around your wrists you wouldn’t stop him, you tell him that you want to go back outside to the pool; and Aemond listens, and he doesn’t try to touch you even once.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Monday, two days later, and Aemond calls to ask if he can bring you and Cadi dinner. He shows up with all the trappings of what he insists is real Italian food, doubtlessly prepared by his family’s private chefs: focaccia, caprese salad, ossobuco, risotto, Bolognese, panna cotta. He forgets the red wine, so you drink sweet tea instead, the three of you crowded around the kitchen counter, ceaselessly passing dishes back and forth while the little pink Panasonic boombox plays You Spin Me Round by Dead Or Alive.

“Hey Mom?” Cadi says as she chomps on a hunk of focaccia.

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t you ever cook dinners like this?”

There’s a tiny little gut punch, something you’re used to swallowing down even if it bruises you to the heart, to the bones. She doesn’t know any better. You can’t cry, you can’t get mad. You shrug, dispassionate. Aemond glances over at you, abruptly tense but not saying anything. “Well honey, it’s probably because my job can be really busy sometimes, and I spend most of the day in the kitchen, so when dinner time comes around the last thing I want to do is cook. But we always have food to eat, right?”

“Yeah. Like Amir’s leftovers or frozen pizza or something. But all my friends’ moms cook nice dinners most nights. Can’t you do that? When I go to Michelle or Erica’s house for dinner their moms make barbeque ribs, gumbo, seafood boils, etouffee, tasso ham, homemade macaroni and cheese, like real dinners. I want us to have that too. What if my friends want to eat dinner here sometime? I can’t bring them over and then just throw some Swanson’s meals at them.”

Aemond has put his fork down on his plate and is clasping his hands together, trying to figure out what to say. But he shouldn’t say anything. It’s not his place.

You tell Cadi, as calmly as you can: “Different families have different kinds of dinners, and that’s okay. I bet your friends’ moms don’t have cakes and cookies around all the time, but you always have tons of dessert options. Our situation looks different than theirs, but there’s nothing wrong with either one.”

“But desserts aren’t even good for kids. Dinner is way more important. You can’t say I get cakes instead of dinner, too much cake will give me diseases or something.”

“Okay, Cadi. That’s enough. Let’s talk about this later.”

“I’m just saying it seems totally unfair that my friends get real dinners and I almost never do.”

Michelle and Erica’s moms don’t work. They have husbands to support them. So they can spend all day babying a fucking tasso ham, but I don’t have that luxury. And I don’t want to be chained to a man. I don’t want to trade having a say in how my life turns out for being able to slave away over dinner for four or five hours. “I regret to inform you that I’m not like Michelle and Erica’s moms.”

“I wish you were,” Cadi murmurs, entirely unaware of what she’s done. You bite your lower lip so you don’t snap at her, or try to explain, or break down sobbing. You taste blood, hot sharp copper that blooms like wildflowers.

Aemond stands up. His barstool squeals against the sloping wooden floor. “Hey, can I talk to you outside for a minute?” he asks Cadi.

“Aemond, what…?” you begin, but he’s already headed for the front door.

Cadi blinks up at him, horrified. “Why?”

“You’re not in trouble or anything. I just want to show you something. Come on. It’ll be quick.”

“Okay,” Cadi says doubtfully, looking at you. You give her your best reassuring smile, and she slides off her barstool and follows after Aemond. The front door opens and shuts. You don’t hear shouting, you don’t hear much of anything except the air conditioner and the boombox and the mourning doves, the long-eared owl, the cicadas, the bayou, the universe. You go to one of the living room windows and part the blinds to peek outside.

What you see is strange. Cadi is sitting on the swing, and Aemond is kneeling in front of her so they’re just about at the same eye level. You can see half of Aemond’s face; Cadi is blocking the rest. He’s explaining something to her with patient yet insistent gestures of his hands. Cadi says something, and Aemond nods and replies. He points to his scar, his glass eye, and says something else. Cadi asks a question, and Aemond hesitates. Then he acquiesces and moves closer to where she is perched on the tree swing. He reaches up towards the scarred side of his face, but you can’t see his eye. When he lowers his palm, there’s a small piece of curved, oval-shaped glass that glints in the dying sunlight.

“Cool!” you can hear Cadi exclaim, muffled through the windows that are now closed on account of the new air conditioning unit. She says something else, and Aemond agrees. You watch her hand extending towards his face, towards the injury he has revealed to her for reasons you can’t comprehend. You rush to other windows, trying to get a better view, but there’s no way for you to get a clear line of sight. Before you know it, your hear their footsteps drumming up the porch steps. The front door opens just as you’re scrambling back onto your barstool.

“Everything alright?” you say, more nervously than you intend to.

“Yup,” Cadi replies. She climbs into her seat and resumes wolfing down focaccia and Bolognese.

You look over at Aemond, bewildered. His glass eye is back in its socket. He appears composed, but you notice the fresh sheen of sweat on his forehead, at his temples, at the nape of his neck. He gives you a casual little smirk and then returns to his barstool. He picks up his full glass of sweet tea and drains it in three massive gulps.

“Hey Mom,” Cadi says, and your throat is suddenly full of embers.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Tonight is really fun,” she says. She twirls her fork in the pappardelle pasta of the Bolognese, splattering red sauce over her cheeks. “This is great. I want to do this more often.”

And the embers in your throat cool, vanish, are replaced by something vast and free.

“You really do need a new house,” Aemond says as he helps you clean up after dinner; Cadi has already abandoned you both for her Nintendo. “There are new constructions a little further down Route 401, between here and Lake Verret. Three bedrooms, two baths. Not a castle or anything, just the right size for you and Cadi. We can go look at them sometime.”

“I don’t need a whole new house. There are midcentury homes all over the place down here. They’re small, and they might need fixing up, but they’re a lot cheaper.” Then you add, because it sounds less pathetic: “And maybe it’s nice to have a house with some history, some character.”

“Old can be charming and quaint, sure. But brand new is better.”

“Why’s that?”

He smiles. “No ghosts.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond #aemond x you #aemond x y/n

199 notes · View notes

juvenillia · 6 months

Text

~ happier ~ Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader [hurt/comfort oneshot]

summary: After Simon already had lost so much in life, he now had lost the last thing that kept him whole. Little did he know...

a/n: Hey babes, I just saw a tiktok sound about the "don't choose him"-trope and I thought that was so Simon Riley coded so yeah, here we go

cw/tw: mentions of trauma, death, jealousy, guilt, hurt/comfort, tooth rotting fluff, break up, happy ending

worcount: 5.9k (maybe I got a bit carried away lol)

》 Read on AO3 《》Master Post《

It was a rather rainy September afternoon, the cold breeze brushing through his messy blonde hair as he stood in front of his apartment complex. The taxi just dropped him off a while ago, and since then he stood there. Starring at the entry, his hand clutching tight on his duffel bag. With a deep sigh his hand brushed through his damp hair while he inhaled the fresh autumn air through the simple black mask before finally stepping in. He didn’t want to come back. He didn’t want to leave but Price literally chased him away this time. The team just came back from a long deployment from God knows where, and he wanted to stay at base. Taking care of the aftermath as usual, but this time his Captain didn’t keep up with his coping mechanism and ordered him to go on leave.

He hadn’t set a foot in his apartment in the past nine months. Nine months filled with hard and bone crushing work to distract himself. Distracting himself from the void that washed over him as soon as the door behind him fell into the lock. He placed his bag onto the floor of his hallway when he saw the huge stack of mail behind the door. Invoices, advertisement, acknowledgements, all that kind of stuff. He didn’t even mind to flip through the envelopes, just threw them onto the kitchen counter. His place felt so different, nearly chaotic.

The plants died some time ago, nothing more than dry remnants in some soil. He opened the fridge, which was nearly as empty as this whole space felt like. A thick layer of dust covered everything. Another sigh left his throat before he pushed the crystalline door to the little balcony open, fished in his pockets for a fag. Pulling his mask down to ignite the cigarette. His glance wandering over the park next to the building. All the trees already wore a dress out of red and yellow leaves which danced in the wind. He could hear some children playing down there, some dogs barking. Somehow everything felt so at peace and still he felt nothing more than blank. He felt like a stranger in his own home.

He put the fag out and decided to tidy the mess up, before distracting him with whatever task he could find. He started with cleaning the whole place, disposing the dead plants and expired food he found in the last corners of the fridge. It took him some hours before everything was all over neat again. He then changed in some casual clothes before walking down to get some groceries for the time he had to stay here now. Always checking his phone for a message from Price, or Gaz or Soap. Anything that could make him return to his duties. Anything that would release him from the thoughts that started to haunt his mind. Thoughts he could easily dismiss as soon as he was on duty. When he was Ghost, but not when he was here.

“Mr. Riley?”, the old man from the store greeted him. He nodded in response, tired and exhausted eyes, yet a sincere smile on his lips. “Good to see you again, son.”, he chimed while starting to scan his products in. There was a huge supermarket around the corner, still he would always walk the extra meters to that indigenous small store owned by that old couple. “Haven’t seen you in forever. Must be happy to be back.”, Simon only nodded. A straightforward lie, but he didn’t need to tell him about the truth. He hated to be back.

Because everything was different to the last time. The last time he walked down this street he laughed while you complained about your coworkers. Clutching to the bag filled with the ingredients for some homemade cookies, and your favorite ice cream, while your hand was wrapped around his upper arm. When did all that changed? When did the world turned against him once more? That’s how he found himself walking that usual path back on his own. Left alone with the sheer thought of you, and once more his mind did haunt him. Replaying the image of the face when you told him over and over again in front of his inner eye.

But he understood your decision. He knew he was wrong for you, that you deserved so much better. He knew that he had ruined an angel. All the time waiting for him, just to be put down once more, when he couldn’t return home just yet. All the anxious calls before the deployment. The number of desperate messages he went through when he could turn his phone on again afterwards. All the tears you wasted for him. He just knew he would never be the man you needed, because you were so much better than him. And still he wanted nothing more than to be selfish and return home to you once more. The way his shitty apartment felt so much livelier filled with your laughter and complains. A privilege he had lost.

He remembered the day you told him about your decision like he remembered his morning drill at base. You mascara already smudged over your tear-stained face. He had promised to never be the cause of your crying and still he stood in front of you, feeling nothing more than hate towards himself, when you told him you couldn’t go on like this. “I love you, Si. I do… but sometimes love isn’t enough…”, your words echoed through his mind as he stood in the living room. Just on the same spot he stood on that fateful day. “What’d ya mean?”, he didn’t understand. “I mean… that I can’t be part of your life when you keep building walls around you.”, your voice was shaky between the sobs that broke out of your throat. “Wait... Love…”, his hands were nonstop shaking, something so uncommon for his so usual steady hands. Hands that were reaching out to you when you literally flinched away from him. “I hope you can become happy. I really wish you all the best…”, the tears started to stream down your face as you picked up the bag, filled with the last few things of yours that still remained in his place. “I’m thankful for everything we had…and I hope you know that you’ll always be a part of me.”, you didn’t dare to look at him as you left his -your shared- place.

How was he supposed to be happy when you took all the crazy little things that made his life better with you? Anytime his phone buzzed that night his heart stopped for a moment, hoping that you changed your mind, but now you already left his life for more than eleven months. He sunk into the couch, just like that evening. Not daring to move an inch. Even if all fibers in him screamed to run after you, he sat there frozen. Respecting your decision and knowing it was for the best. It was the best for you, and he never wanted anything less than the very best for you. Even if it meant to break him once more. This evening was the loneliest night after the night when he lost his family. That night he lost the last thing that gave him a meaning. The last thread that hold his pieces together.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened your chat. The last message still there, about eleven months ago. A bone crushing reminder of when you left his life. Just then he took noticed of your new profile picture. The pure soul you were, you hadn’t blocked him. He tapped it open and could feel his heart ache as he took in your features, a bright smile. A smile that had him mesmerized from the first time he witnessed it. Your hair neatly done and braided with a flower crown made from white roses. Your hand trying to cover your gorgeous smile. Then he suddenly took notice of something new. His heart clenched at the view of the little simple silver band around your left ring finger. A groan vibrated in his stomach. He stared at the picture, as a rope laced around his throat. It couldn’t be. He just cursed to himself.

He just wished it wasn’t true, but it just made sense. During the times when he raised his walls higher and higher you simply turned around to see the whole world and not only him. And there was someone that could treat you better than he ever could. That there was someone who would share his life with you rather than shutting you out. Someone who wouldn’t treat you as shitty as he did. Someone who wouldn’t take you for granted. Someone who wouldn’t make you cry, and still he wanted to be the person to call you his. He wanted that this smile, the smile that could brighten the darkest day, was aimed at him and not just some random dude.

He needed to make sure. Sitting up from the couch while leaning his forearms on his knees as he switched from the message app to his private Instagram account. An account Kyle forced him to create after one night in the pub. On that night when Simon maybe drunk a bit too much, he eventually had let slipped that he did meet you and Kyle was all alerted to get this to workout. So of course, he needed an Instagram account to seem more likable. And to be honest, Simon wanted to be likeable, for the first time he did care what someone would think of him. As long as that somebody was you.

The next morning he decided to go for a run and ran a few kilometers around the quarters. Longer than usual, but it wasn’t like he had anything better to do. All sweaty he stopped by a common coffee shop to get a well-made coffee before returning home. Just when he waited in line for him to order, he pulled his phone out once more. Starring at your name in his contacts. ‘Love’ was still written there. He never brought himself to change it. Because you still were the only thing, he ever admitted to truly love. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice a voice approaching him. Just as he felt a small hand gently on his clothed shoulder he flinched, looking up and were greeted with some way too familiar eyes. He blinked a few times, believing his mind would trick him right now.

His account didn’t contain many pictures, a few from nice landscaped taking from the different countries he had to visit, one of Riley and him, what served as your screensaver for a very long time. Well not anymore, he supposed. He searched for your tag, and he scrolled through the last pictures you uploaded. Nowhere was a hint of a new guy in your life. Except for the picture of your engagement ring and the dozen words of congratulations the comments contained. Some pictures of the recent books you read always placed aesthetical next to a cup of tea, a picture of you and your girls on a night out.

He just stopped when he saw a familiar picture. It was nothing more than you curled up in an armchair, wearing a black hoodie, his hoodie. You haven’t deleted it. He was still part of your life, as you had promised. You didn’t just delete him out of it. He pinched the bridge of his nose when he put his phone away. Fighting the urge to write you. But what should he even message you? Everything would be inappropriate and wrong. That it was his biggest mistake to let you go? That he was happy for your engagement? Nothing would satisfy his real emotions. He pushed all of those thoughts, all the pain down just like he was used to and let Ghost take over his mind. Cutting out everything around him, as his body forced him to rest. A dreamless night on the couch and still he felt miserable the next morning.

“Si?”, you smiled at him, as beautiful as ever and he stood there completely stunned. You still called him that sweet nickname, the short only you were allowed to use. “Hey…”, he breathed out while shoving his phone back into his pocket. Leaving his hands in his pockets, to scared you could see how nervous he was. Seemed like that he was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t realize he jogged all the way to the place you worked back when you two dated, and as it seemed like you still do work here. There was a silence clinging between both of you, while taking in each other. He looked tired, somehow older you noticed. You looked as pretty as he remembered. “Sir?”, the voice of the young barista dragged him back to the place he stood. “Yeah…uhrm.”, he ordered his usual coffee, and quickly added another hot drink – your favorite - before turning back to you.

“How are ya?” – “How are you?”, both of you said at the same time and a little smile tugged at the corner of his lips. All of that felt so familiar, and still vicious at the same time. But sorrow was something Simon was used to it, and if this pain granted him some time in your presence, he’d gladly accept it. “Wanna take a seat, or are ya on the run?”, you smiled at him and shook your head no, while taking a place at one of the tables. A table you often sat when he visited you during your work breaks. “So, how are you?”, you said calm, while sipping on your coffee. A weak smile playing around your lips when you realized that he even remembered the little flavor drop you loved in it.

You had such a pure soul that you simply could sit down with him and talk to him, like he wouldn’t be your ex. Just as some good old friends catching up. It broke his heart even more. “Steady.”, he answered somehow distant. Trying to suppress all the emotions that started to boil in the pit of his stomach at your sight. You nodded with that sweet smile he knew too well, “Always the same, huh?” He nodded and at the same time he wanted to argue that he wasn’t the same. Not at all. “So, when’s ‘e big day?”, his sudden question let you swallow on your drink. He pointed at the ring on your finger, and you sighed. “Saturday, in two weeks.”, you only said. There laid something between your tone he couldn’t read, so he only nodded once more. “Didn’t ya wanted a white winter wedding?”, he kept the eye contact when you tried to avoid it at all costs. “Cannot have everything.”, you weakly laughed. A laugh that had hidden so much more below the surface. Simon caught how your voice changed and your hands constantly fidgeted with the cup, but he didn’t want to push it any further. The silence once more taking over the space between you. It was an awkward tension laying in the air. Still, he wanted to ask you so much, wanted to tell you so much, yet he couldn’t.

That’s when your phone went off, a sigh of relief but at the same time annoyance left your throat. “Sorry… need to head back. Before…” – “Before Mara lets the printer explode and Barry loses his mind.”, he ended your sentence and a vicious smile tugged at your lips. How could he still remember all those things. “Yeah… it was nice to see you, Si. Thanks for the coffee.”, the painful smile turning into a genuine one. He hummed in appreciation, as you stood up and putting the phone back into your pocket.

Just then he reached out to you to get hold of your wrist, gently but firm, just when you wanted to walk away. “Don’t marry him…” The phrase left his throat out of nowhere. His mouth faster than his brain could even process what he just said. He couldn’t carry this anymore, he let you go once, he wouldn’t commit to the same mistake a second time. You blinked at him in sheer shock. “Don’t do that to me…”, you shook your head, swallowing a thick lump in your throat. “Are ya happier?”, he breathed out, his tone bitter as his eyes starred into yours. Your brows furrowed. He knew how selfish his actions were, but he couldn’t help it. His thumb slowly stroking over the inside of your wrist. He needed to know. Only then he could accept it, only then he could try to let you go. “Simon…”, you mumbled, as your lips pressed into a thin line, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Answer me, love.”, his words rolled so carelessly over his lips. You couldn’t. Only starring back into those dark eyes that wouldn’t let go of yours, and felt tears prick at the corner of your own. Everything you could answer him, everything you wanted to answer him would somehow be a lie. You were happy, but that wasn’t his question, and he could read it in your eyes. He let go of your wrist, as he stood up from his seat. He would never force you to say or do something, he couldn’t make you love him. He knew that. But the soldier inside of him knew, that this fight wasn’t over. The way your eyes spoke volumes to him. The way he could feel your pulse quickened as his palm was still rested on your skin. A desperate sigh left his throat. Your silence told him more than you thought. “I’d walk through ‘ell to find a way to keep ya in ma life. Even if it meant to burn the whole bloody world down…”

You only stood there, your mind running a marathon of thoughts at the sincere words he spoke out so easily. A phrase that let your heart make a jump and at the same time it shattered. You averted your gaze, trying to hold back the tears. “Goodbye, Si.”, you simply stated while turning on your heel. You didn’t want to cry in front of him again. You didn’t want to admit what power he still held over you. You didn’t want to show him how you lied to yourself when trying to avoid answering his questions. That way you left him behind and went back to work. And once more he felt the sheer guilt laying on his shoulders. He didn’t see the hot tears rolling down, but he knew you too well. The empty silence greeted him like an old friend, and he went back to his place. Cursing himself for the whole interaction. Why couldn’t he just let you go? Why couldn’t he simply let you become happy? It should be enough for him, seeing you happy living the life your deserved and he would go after his drilled one, just like before.

But nothing was like before. You simply changed everything. He was a broken man when you met him on that cold night in January. Effortlessly trapping him in a lovely chat, a conversation that saved him, and still he tried to keep his distance. And you had nothing better to do than picking up all the pieces and built him back together. So much effort, so much energy and so much love you spent for him. Earning his trust and giving him a place for his soul to heal and rest. Creating him a place to call home. How couldn’t he hold on to what you had provided him with? Still, he was back in his apartment alone with his demons, and they teared him apart worse than ever. So he decided to send a message to his captain.

Simon R. [15:23]

Let me come back. I’m sure there’s something I can help with.

Captain Price [16:01]

No chance, Lieutenant. Use the time reasonably.

Captain Price [16:03]

That’s an order!

He literally threw the phone across the room. How should he use this time useful? Price should’ve known better. Simon thought back to the day when he told his captain about you for the first time, and he remembered the proud beam on his face. You were the first civilian Simon even mentioned around his team, you were the first one to meet them. So, Price knew that this time was nothing more than waiting in patience to return. But somehow his captain hoped for something different, he couldn’t have known that you were engaged and this time on leave was breaking him more than anything.

Simon R. [16:06]

Roger, sir.

There was nothing he could do, besides going after his usual habits. Morning runs, hitting the gym, cooking some quick meals, helping whatsoever neighbor needed something done in their home. Everything that would keep him busy was greatly appreciated.

The time passed by, and every night he found himself on the balcony. Thinking back to nights he spent here with you. You cuddled up in front of him, while he refused to smoke while you’d cuddle and you’d always just say, that you wouldn’t leave, so he rather just smoked if he wanted to or stop it in general. You never complained about his smoking, but you would keep teasing him about it and he would just pull you closer to him. He didn’t need those cigarettes when he could inhale your scent anyways.

Where did the downward spiral begin? When did he start to distant himself without even noticing it? Was it after the Las Almas incident? Was it after his teammate nearly died because of him? Was it when he realized that one day, he might not be able to return to you? He couldn’t tell and he tried to make it out eagerly. Searching and scanning in all your interactions for the mistakes he committed. Nightmares haunted him night after night and every day he got up and went after his choirs again. Waiting for a message from Price to draft him in sooner than expected. To finally get some redemption before the two-week mark was overstepped. He couldn’t bear that day, knowing what happened on that Saturday. Knowing that on this Saturday you’d be officially off limits, and he wouldn’t dare to ruin it anymore. This Saturday… this Saturday. Fuck, it was today.

Anyways he dared to look up your social media, seeing if he could catch a glimpse of the pure perfection you’d be in your pretty white dress. But there was nothing found. What wasn’t so unusual, you never were the person to openly show your life online so easily. Especially not after the two of you started dating. You became more reserved with information about yourself because Simon would always be scared that someone could use you against him. That way there was never a picture of both of you found on your social media pages. Just a little S with a heart in your bio. A bio that was nearly empty now. But today, you’d post something, he was sure. That day was something so freaking special, you needed to show the world how gorgeous you’d look. And with that you would show him what he had lost. But somehow you spared him with that. It was already noon, and nothing was found on your page. That’s how he went after his day, completely lost and in complete autopilot. Not even thinking about anything he did. Just existing, his body carrying him through the day and letting the time pass.

It was about nine when he got on the balcony. Still in his dark green pajama pants, and a plain white shirt, an easy black zip up jacket. No socks, no mask, only a fag between his lips. Exhaling a deep cloud of smoke into the night. Just then he could hear a buzzing from the living room. He sighed, another cloud of smoke leaving his lungs. Probably only a dumb meme from Johnny, an attempt to cheer him up, but maybe it was the long-awaited message from his Captain. So, he decided to head in, to pick up his phone. The fag still clutched between his lips. He tapped the screen of his phone and as soon as the screen light up he found himself paralyzed. The fag slipping out from his lips, which were parted in shock. The cigarette burning his hand dragged him back into the reality. He quickly caught the fag before burning the whole place down, and then opened the message. The message that came from you. His mouth went completely dry as stared down on the words.

He read over those lines over and over, he couldn’t get a grip what you wanted to tell him. What made you think of that occasion now?

Love [21:13]

Do you remember when Johnny bragged about that one French wine after Mel dumped him, and we spent your last day on leave driving from Manchester to Edinburgh picking him up, over to Dover just to catch a ferry to buy that stupid wine and the whole way back? Just that you got deployed to Toulouse afterwards and he could drink so much of that damn wine…

Simon R. [21:21]

Could never forget about it. It was bloody stupid.

A desperate chuckle left his throat. It was one of his favorites as well. The way you’d sing stupid songs with Johnny to sheer him up, trade dumb childhood stories, and the way your hand was always entangled with his. It made the world seem so much more peaceful.

Love [21:23]

One of my favorite memories, tbh

Simon R. [21:25]

What made you think of that? Especially today…

He sighed. He couldn’t suppress the turns his stomach took. Still, he couldn’t blame you, such a day could get someone emotional and nostalgic. It was somehow relatable. He already regretted his question.

Simon R. [21:26]

You must be tired as fuck after such a long day.

Love [21:32]

Well… I did imagine the day to be different…

Time suddenly froze. The little three dots signaling your typing made him anxious. He starred down at the screen, the fag long forgetting, the ash on the anyhow ugly carpet. His foot bounced repeatedly on the floor, while he not dared to avert his eyes. The time until your answer plopped up on his screen felt unbearable. His chest heavy like he had to carry a whole tank. He felt weak, small, just because of the time you needed to answer.

Simon R. [21:33]

What do you mean?

Love [21:47]

Couldn’t do it…

His chest heaving as he starred at your answer. His trembling fingers typed and answer. Never letting go of the phone as he already pulled on some socks, before searching for his boots.

Love [21:48]

It wasn’t fair…not to me, but esp not to him…

Simon R. [21:49]

Where are you?

Love [21:50]

Remember where we met…the park by the cemetery.

Love [21:58]

Si?

And he was. He never was faster seated on his motorbike than now. He drove like a madman. Usually, he would let his thoughts process everything. Outlining a plan before jumping into something, but not this time. Not when he got a second chance right in reach. His mind was blank. The only thought that filled his brain cells were you. And soon he found himself in the park. The park where he met you for the very first time some years ago. The day that changed his life, and it once more gave him the chance to turn it around. His breath got caught right in his throat as he took your figure in.

Simon R. [22:00]

Don’t fucking move. Already on my way.

You were seated at the very first steps of a war memorial. The place where he met you completely random when he paid his tribute to fallen soldiers. An old habit he committed to anytime he returned save. It was snowing like hell, everything was white, just like the dress you wore right now. His feet carried him over to you, as you still looked down on the screen. His eyes were pinned on you, trying to burn this image into his brain and never letting go of it. That’s when you looked up and a tired smile tugged at your lips. He was so underdressed compared to you. Still in those pajama pants, because there was no time to change properly, when you were the most perfect dress, he could’ve imagined you in.

“You literal broke a few laws while rushing here. Speeding, taking dead ends and stuff. You could’ve taken some more time. You know.”, you said while standing up. A teasing tone laying in your voice. You looked breathtaking, better than his wildest dreams would even allow him to imagine. A smile planted on his lips as he stood right in front of you. “Not a patient person.”, he breathed out while taking his jacket off to wrap it over you. It was still freezing cold, and he saw the goosebumps amongst your skin. “You’re reckless, Simon Riley.”, he came closer, just when you put his hands on his chest. The familiar body warmth creeping up your cold palms. His hands lingering on your waist, as he starred in your eyes and pulled you closer, just the slightest. “And yer stunnin’, darlin’.” A slight blush crept over your face, maybe due the coldness lingering in your muscles, but maybe it was because of him.

You were standing here like the whole opposites you were. He was the stern and strong soldier, casual and reckless. Solid as rock during the heaviest tidal wave. He was your protector. You were his princess with the purest soul and heart. The lighthouse that guided him home anytime he needed. Anytime he needed to let go of Ghost.

In that moment it felt like the world stopped spinning. Nothing else mattered. “Si…” – “I know ’s too much to ask for forgiveness ‘n I know ‘m not in ‘e position to ask for anythin’ at all…and fuckin’ ‘ell. ‘m not good at that kinda stuff…. but…”, before he could keep going you interrupted him. Forcefully pulling him closer to you by his shirt, until the gap between you was fully closed and you felt the familiar sensation of his lips against yours. Your eyes closed, as his calloused palm reached for your face and cupped your cheek as he deepened the kiss.

Just when you tried to pull away, he made sure that you wouldn’t go anywhere. His hand firmly steadying you in your position as he leaned his forehead against yours. Your whiny voice reaching his ears. “Just shut up already and take me home, alright I’m freezing my ass off.” A stupid grin planted on his face, which wouldn’t fade any time soon. “Anythin’ ya want.”, he said while placing his hands around your body before easily lifting you up what earned him a sudden shriek as you clung around his neck. Carrying you bridal style over to his bike. Always having a spare helmet for you in. That’s totally not how you imagined the day you’d first wear a wedding dress, clinging to the beefy back from Simon, one hand holding on to the gathered fabric hoping it wouldn’t cause any accident, the other tightly slung around him while he carefully made his way back. But you couldn’t ask for something more.

It took you some time to completely warm up again, you nearly spent the whole day in that damn park considering if you could just write him or not, and you definitive should’ve done it earlier. The cold clung to your muscles. After taking a hot shower and ditching the dress for an oversized hoodie from his closet and some briefs, you were now curled up in a blanket on the couch. Laying against his firm chest, brawn arms wrapped around you, scared that this could be a dream. Scared that you could vanish any second if he’d let you go. He never stopped to prepper the crown your head with kisses while you twirled his fingers with your own. A genuine silence hanging around that place, that finally felt like home again. Something he’d never let go of again. “To answer your question…”, you broke the silence while tilting your head towards him. Looking in his deep dark eyes. “I am happier now.”, the sweet smile returning to your lips before he placed his onto them. “ ’s everythin’ I could’ve ever asked for, love.”, he breathed out as you parted for a brief moment before closing the gap once more. Right now, he felt like a starved man, but nobody could blame him.

You were the only thing he ever wanted for his own sake. And nobody could blame him, that he already got you a ring himself, about two years ago to be precise, he just never found the right time to drop the big question. But after tonight, he was eager to do so at some point. Just giving the two of you some more time, to get back settled in. But you’d got a lot of time ahead, for anything to work out. Simon made a mental note, that he would never let another man try to accomplish what was his personal lifelong mission; to make you happy.

It was quite late when Simon woke up the next day. You still spread across his chest, clinging onto him, when he remembered how both of you fell asleep on the couch last night. He listened to you little snores as he started to believe, that sometimes the world could be alright. You made it alright, and a smile played along his lips. If enduring all the pain brought him back into your embrace, it would always been worth it. That’s when his phone buzzed, he reached out to grab it, careful to not wake you up.

He hesitated for a short moment, before he pressed the little camera icon on his phone.

Captain Price [12:19]

Maybe I do have a task for you.

Simon R. [12:23]

image attached

Captain Price [12:25]

Forget about it. See you in two weeks, Loverboy.

Captain Price [12:27]

Give her finally that bloody ring…

Bonus:

John couldn’t suppress a chuckle when he starred down at his phone. The sweetest image plopping up when he shook his head in amusement. And with his reaction he immediately had a specific Scot emerge behind him, starring at the phone over his Captain’s shoulder. A bright grin growing on his face. “Was ‘bout damn time…”, he instantly pulled his own phone out.

Soap [12:31]

istg… Lt if yer choose Garrick as yer best man …

Soap [12:33]

I AM FOR REAL

Soap [12:34]

ach ‘nd tell lass I said hi!!

Soap [12:35]

I’m happy for yer <3

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost hurt #simon ghost riley hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #exboyfriend ghost #cod mw x reader #cod x reader #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #hurtful #ghost fanfiction

283 notes · View notes

craisinsensation1029 · 2 months

Text

Friction

Hiromi Higuruma

also posted on AO3! :)

fem reader, thigh riding/dry humping, pet names, praise kink

MDNI

Sounds of the maroon couch creaking in the living room drown out the volume of the true crime video playing. It was uploaded from your subscriptions a few hours earlier and you were waiting to watch it with Higuruma once he got home.

He gives you a good life, one where you don't have to worry about anything as trivial as working. The only thing you need to worry about is doing whatever makes your little heart happy, though you aren’t ashamed to admit most of that involves making Higuruma happy. In that way it’s completely symbiotic, you find joy in cooking, cleaning, looking good for and just pleasing him. And how could he not be zealous when he sees that adorable smile on your face after he expresses his gratitude for you.

Alas, being able to take care of you of course means he has to work. It was a drag before, dealing with the conventionality of working to submit to an endless cycle of soul sucking capitalism, but with the light in his life that you are, there really is a rhyme and reason for it all. Who would have known! How else can he receive your sticky lip gloss kisses and caress your body in the finest fabrics available? Motivation was always just a construct for him, but it now has a physical manifestation with you in his life.

Even if that means the occasional late night at the office when he should already be home with his cock that’s hardened to its limit plunged deep inside you, filling you to the absolute brim while your knees are pressed against your chest.

“Needy tonight, aren’t you?” Higuruma mumbles as his hand runs down your back, fingers tapping delicately against the ridges of your spine. The baby blue bralette you're wearing gives his hands full range to graze your skin, soft like a cloud under his touch.

The contrast always drives him a little crazy, his rugged hands roaming over any part of you he can get. Like when he warms your favorite honey scented lotion in the palms of his hands to massage into your skin. You'd always joke with him, telling him if he rubbed his hands together too fast he may start a fire, teasing that the two of you could never go camping because Smokey Bear would not be impressed with the lack of regard for the trees. He’d always laugh it off, telling you that these were the hands of a hardworking man as he kneaded the lotion into your skin with care while soft whimpers leave your lips and you breathlessly say, 'feels s'good'.

A breathless whimper much like the one that's being muffled into his neck right now as you inhale the rich eucalyptus scent of his cologne along with the natural musk of his skin that always makes your stomach flip as your arms wrap more tightly around him. “Go on angel, make your pussy feel good,” he encourages, deep baritone shaking you to your core. “I know you can do it. Already doing so well, want you to make a mess all over me.”

His words only make another whimper fall from your lips as you continue grinding against the firm muscle of his thigh, chest pressed closely against his own as you work your way up to your orgasm.

“God, I know that feels good.” His cock is achingly hard, throbbing every time your hips move forward and create more wet spots against the material of his slacks, but he can’t bring himself to stop you. How can he with the sounds that you’re making, the ones he knows you make when you’re in too much bliss to even speak. He glances down at his swollen length pressing against the zipper of his pants, watching it jump as your hips drag against the musculature of his thigh once more, movement a little less controlled this time. Every breathy pant of yours against his neck only makes his cock throb harder, and his free hand begins to rub himself, hissing as he does. “Keep using me, angel. Fuck, you always make me so fucking hard. Make yourself come, I need to hear you.”

He didn’t expect to be ambushed by you when he arrived home, but that was always welcome. He was a bit tired, a feeling not unnatural when a majority of his days were spent in an office surrounded by people he didn’t want to be around—especially when he was there longer than he needed to be, but coming home to you always made the days worth it.

So when you pulled him on the couch wearing nothing but that cute little bralette and strips of fabric that are somehow classified as underwear (who is he kidding though, he loves seeing your cheeks on full display any chance he gets), telling him how much you missed him today and you needed him, of course he was going to soothe you anyway you wanted.

He didn’t think his thigh was what you wanted, but who is he to say no to you? He’s used to your greed for his cock, your desire for him to be balls deep and kissing the tip of your cervix, but perhaps your insatiability has reached a new height. He was expecting for you to reach for his belt buckle once you comfortably straddled him, but raised an eyebrow you simply proceeded to hump his right thigh, rolling your hips forward. He’s more than delighted to make you come in any way possible though, that’s for sure.

“Might even finish just like this,” he murmurs, hypnotized by the movements of your hips. He can feel precome leaking from his slit as he watches your alternating movements, gyrations in small circles and rutting back and forth. “Come on angel, let me hear you, tell me how good this is making your little pussy feel.”

“R-really good,” you stumble out, voice muffled into his neck. “J-just s’good.” There isn’t a coherent thought in your brain as your hips continue their rhythm, lips brushing against the sensitive spot of his neck as one of your manicured hands thread through the raven hairs at his nape. He moans feeling your hot tongue against his pulse point, the vibration only making your panties flood more. His slacks are going to be absolutely ruined after this, but to say he cares would be like saying the sun does not rise and set every day.

“Fuck.” His hand moves down your back and lands on your hip, still letting you control the pace but squeezing at the flesh there. Touching you is just always so intoxicating, watching your skin mold under his touch. Meanwhile one of your hands unlatches from his neck and moves down the front plane of his body, stroking his defined chest, ghosting over the chest hairs exposed on the undone buttons. Your hands reach lower down, feeling the rigid heat of his erection. “Touch me, angel, touch me.”

Still chasing after your own orgasm as you rut against his thigh, forehead beginning to slick with sweat, you let your hand rub over his length, feeling it throb with every motion of your hips. “That’s all yours,” he grits out, hips bucking up slightly. “All this cock is for you, even if you rather use something else to get off right now,” he chuckles, though it’s a bit strained, his own arousal clouding his mind. “But you like that, huh? Using any part of me to make yourself come?”

It’s not even cock drunk you’re feeling. Is being thigh drunk a thing? Maybe someone should work on coining a term for that because you can’t even dignify him with an answer. You aren’t even sure what you murmur out in response, continuing to grind your hips against him, striving for the fruits of your wanton behavior. It just feels so good having a different kind of thickness between your thighs, dragging your wet folds along him in a way that’s just so primal. Testing out the different kinds of motion as your cunt pleads for more friction.

Only when he flexes his strong thigh, the motion deliciously stimulating your clit does a thought come to your brain.

It’s a selfish thought, one that makes your hand move from his cock and back around his neck, oh so close to having that knot that’s been forming in your belly become lax and unwind.

More, you need more.

“Do that again, ‘Romi,” you pant, rutting your hips again.

“Do what?” He knows exactly what he’s doing, flexing his thigh again as you will your hips to keep moving. “That, angel? That’s what you need from me?”

A pathetic whine is buried into his neck once more when your hips move more ferociously. The hand on your hip moves back up your spine, his palm firmly grabbing at the back of your neck. He’s met with your mouth agape, lids fluttering shut as your body is wracking with small tremors. “Look so pretty when you’re about to come for me,” he murmurs, eyes appraising the column of your neck as he lets his tongue lick a stripe from the base all the way up to your chin. “Look even prettier when you’re going to come on me,” he taunts, licking another lewd stripe against your neck, the taste of honeysuckle and passionfruit with the saltiness of your sweat making his cock throb again. “C’mon angel, know you’re so close, let go for me.

The steady movements of your hips are long forgotten as his greedy tongue continues to relish in the sweet and tangy taste of your skin. His message is clear, keep your head up. You tilt your head back slightly to give his tongue free reign as his hand moves back down to your hip, aiding your movements.

“Hi–ro–romi, fuck.”

“Don’t stop now,” he chides when your hips stop moving, simply to catch your breath from it all. His hand lands a smack on your ass, the sounding echoing throughout the apartment. “You’re already so close, don’t you want me to watch you come?”

“I-I do,” you stumble out in agreement.

This time he bounces his leg, the firmness of his muscled thigh pressing directly against your heat. It makes the mewl, the action sending a jolt up your spine as he does it again, a soft rumble of laughter leaving his lips. “Then you gotta keep going. Gonna feel so good when you come.”

His lips suck an angry red splotch into your neck as his hands squeeze at the flesh of your hips that are moving again. “Can’t believe you’re going to get off on my thigh.” His cock throbs again as he lets out a groan. “You can do it, be a good girl and let me hear you come, I know that pussy is ready to explode all over me.” And surely he knows this, all the tell tale signs on there; your pants, nails digging into his skin, legs tightening around his thigh.

“I know I’m hitting your little clit just right,” he says against your neck, this time being the one with a steady rhythm as he bounces his leg. “ Come all over me,” he encourages once more. His grip on your hip tightens as he continues to let his leg bounce.

“F-Fuck,” you whimper, arms turning into noodles as you bury your head back into his neck, chest rising and falling as your orgasm coats his slacks. It’s intense, his name and curses falling from your lips as your thighs twitch around his own, walls of your cunt fluttering.

He moves you back only slightly and the slight overstimulation makes you whine as he looks down at the drenched spot on his thigh. His fingers graze over the spot as he lets out a chuckle, his cock throbbing again at the sight. “Good fucking girl.” He inserts the finger into his mouth, the faint taste of your essence coating his taste buds. He nudges your lips apart, letting you taste yourself after, and he can’t help but smile feeling your tongue lapping around his digits. “Now let’s do it again on the other side, what do you say?”

146 notes · View notes

divine-misfortune · 8 months

Note

"don't you dare fuckin' come, because if you do, i'll come, too." - MountainDew ♡♡

It was like being hidden under the draping arms of a willow tree the way Dew's hair fell over his shoulders. Safe and concealed from the world behind that pale curtain, it's where Mountain falls apart. Where he's allowed to drift aimlessly in a warm, vacant, state.

His thoughts are a million miles away. Concerns even further, Dew made sure of that - it was the main reason he had the earth ghoul folded up under him. The weight of the world was a heavy burden to shoulder, and it weighed him down like cement but Dew came along to give him permission to float with firm hands and an edged tone. Unraveled him from the bramble of his own mind with a patience that made it so easy to fall.

And Mountain was grateful.

Grateful for the way Dew pushed his knees up to his shoulders, how his eyes never seemed to stray, that he fucked into him hard enough to keep every worry buried under the mounds of cotton filling his skull.

He had to force his eyes to focus on the ghoul poised above him and even then the only thing he could seem to fix his gaze on was the kiss bruised red of his lips. Mountain reached for him, to be sure Dew, as ethereal as he was, was real. His thumb dragged over his lower lip and Dew wasted no time kissing the rough pad of his finger, earning a breathy giggle from him.

"Take me so good baby, got so wet and I haven't even touched your cock..."

Mountain lifted his head and whimpered at the sight of himself laying hard against his belly. Neglected, the tip was an angry shade of red as it leaked like a fucking faucet into the lines on his stomach. A mess it he couldn't make himself care about.

"You like dripping on daddy's cock?"

His breath hitched. Hand flying to clamp over his mouth before a shameful moan could spill out but with a particularly rough thrust, enough to jolt his entire body, Mountain couldn't muffle it. Perfectly wanton. Dew grinned.

"Know you do, can tell...Fuck, you get so messy, just like Rain does. He's so good for me, but you're my good boy, right?"

Mountain nodded as the color bloomed like roses in his cheeks.

"Say it."

"I-" His voice warbled. It's the first time Dew's told him to speak in hours, and Mountain was entirely content to be the docile pet Dew liked him to be. He could've easily forgotten he had a voice to begin with. His tongue was heavy and formed .the words clumsily. "I'm your good boy."

Dew groaned as he pressed back into the velvety warmth that was the earth ghoul. No matter how much prep, Mountain was always tight. Like his body just wanted to pull Dew in and keep him forever.

"Feed yourself to me."

He could feel the splotchy flush creeping deeper into his skin, claiming him in embarrassment, as he swirled two fingers through the small puddle of pre gathering in the crease of his hip. Hot and sticky. Dew's lips parted automatically to take his offering. Watching his fingers disappear in his mouth made him dizzy, but it was nothing compared to the feeling that washed over him at the first flick of that clever tongue. Mountain felt his cock practically jump, something flipping in his gut.

Dew let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a growl as he sucked each finger clean. He pressed forward, forcing those thick digits damn near down his own throat.

"Oh fuck-" The fire ghoul breathed as he pulled off with a little pop, leaving Mountain glistening with his spit. "You even taste good for me too, sweet like honey."

"Daddy," he whined too far under to feel the typical shame he might have on any other occasion. No room to be shy when Dew had put smoke where something as trivial as humiliation once was. "Harder, harder, I can feel it I'm-"

Nails pressed into the back of his thighs. Dew's sweet smile turned cold, stern. It made him feel small.

"Don't you dare fucking cum," he punctuated his sentence, his warning, his command, with a thrust that hit home. The head of his cock bumped and dragged against that sweet spot that made Mountain's jaw go slack and his eyes roll back. It didn't help him stay away from the edge whatsoever. "Because if you do, I'll cum too, and I'm not fucking done with you. Still smart enough to remember your own name, daddy hasn't fucked you stupid yet."

#i need subby mountain so bad all the time u dont get it #void writing #writing #spicy tag #mountain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #sodo ghoul #the band ghost #ghost the band #nameless ghouls #answered

234 notes · View notes

inkbyajm · 6 months

Text

of kindling sparks

masterlist: part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

tropes: fluff, slow-burn

warnings: 11 year age-gap (reader is 23, joel is 34)

word count: ~6000

author’s note: so this chapter as well as the next one basically serve as one long exposition before the main story (aka the prequel). i realise this is lengthy as hell but i needed to flesh out the relationship between joel and the reader for the upcoming chapters to hurt, you know?

(p.s. there's mention of joel carrying the reader. i know some people might be put off by this, but joel is quite buff. i mean the man works in construction, i promise he can handle carrying an adult for less than a minute)

————-　❈　————-

The air was getting chillier, the change of seasons not going unnoticed. (Y/N)'s focus was razor-sharp as she drove through the streets of Austin, making sure to take in the ever-changing leaves on the trees she passed by. As an exchange student, it wasn't cheap to be renting a car, and the money her parents were generously providing her could only last for so long. She desperately needed another source of income. Her prayers were answered the week prior when she stumbled upon an advertisement near the exit to her university. It was for a babysitting job with a decent pay and convenient working hours. She wrote an email to the address written on the poster:

Dear Mr. Miller, Is the babysitting job still available? I'm a student currently on an exchange program at the University of Texas. And while I haven't had prior experience in babysitting, I used to be an assistant teacher in a kindergarten. I'm very good with children and at keeping them alive (this is a joke, but I am pretty responsible, my mother can attest to this). If there is any need for it, I can also cook and clean up after each visit. Thank you for your consideration and I hope to hear from you soon!

Sincerely, (Y/N) (L/N)

To which, much to her surprise, she received an answer shortly after:

Dear Ms. (L/N), Yes, the babysitting job is still available. It's for my 12-year-old daughter Sarah. And while I appreciate all that you have to offer, there's nothing much to do but keep her alive, so your skill would be useful here. You can come by our house on 1411 Sullivan DR any day of the week after 5pm, we'll go over the details then. If you're still interested, you'll be able to start right away. See you soon!

Best regards, Joel Miller

After half-an-hour of driving, the house finally came into view. Just as she parked the car in the vacant driveway, and before she went to meet some stranger she hoped wouldn't turn out to be a creep, the girl gathered her wits and courage with a clasp of her hands, a deep breath, and a firm nod as if to say 'There's no going back now, and if I die, it is what it is'.

Her three knocks on the door were followed by a long pause which made her believe she had arrived either at the wrong time or the wrong house. But as she was about to turn around and flee in embarrassment, out came a middle-aged man with disheveled hair.

"Hello. Is this the Miller's house?"

"Yes, hi! I am so sorry I kept you waiting. (Y/N), right?" he said, wiping his hands on a rag.

"That's me."

"Great. I'd shake your hand, but mine are a bit dirty. Please, come in." he stepped out of the way to let her walk further into his home.

It was decently spacious and cozy, which temporarily put her at ease. They walked through the living room into the dimly lit kitchen. It smelled of spices and garlic.

He gestured around, "Welcome to our humble abode. Pardon the mess, I didn't exactly have time to tidy up," While it wasn't exactly messy, they could benefit from an extra set of hands. "You said you weren't from around here?"

"No, I'm quite a long way from home," (Y/N) said, taking a seat at the dining table. "I wanted to see other places, gain a bit of independence. Austin was one of the first to accept me, and since it seemed like a fine city to live in, I packed up my things and arrived at the beginning of summer."

"I'm Texas born and raised myself. Wouldn't dream of living anywhere else. How old are you exactly?"

"Twenty-three, sir."

He proceeded to rummage through the fridge that was almost full. "Alright. Would you like a beer, then? And please, call me Joel. You're making me feel old."

"Right, Joel. And sure, I'll have one if you do."

Joel handed her a cold bottle as he sat down across from her. She was familiar with the brand, they served it at the bar she worked at part-time on weekends. For the next hour-and-a-half, the two discussed (Y/N)'s life, her studies, Joel's job as a contractor, and Sarah. At some point, the attacks on 9/11 came up, unpacking the nation-wide terror they had brought. She recalled the panicked calls she received from her parents, begging her to come home. She had to explain that she was alright, that there was nothing to do about it now, and that she couldn't leave the city when she had already formed ties and taken on responsibilities.

Just as Joel was getting into another anecdote from Sarah's childhood, they heard keys jangling in the front door as it opened and shut.

"Speak of the devil. Done playing already?"

A soft voice rang through the house, "Yeah, I'm really tired." Then a pigtailed girl stopped abruptly at the entrance to the kitchen. She was wearing a soccer kit, carrying both a purple backpack as well as a blue duffel bag.

"Sarah, this is (Y/N). She's gonna be your nanny from now on."

The little girl hesitated at first, then gently approached the table and extended her small hand for her to shake. "Nice to meet you." she said with as much courage as she could muster, earning a smile in return.

Getting up from his seat, Joel kissed his daughter's head and told her food was ready, which prompted the child to run upstairs to her room. Feeling like it was her cue to leave, (Y/N) followed suit and slung her bag on her shoulder.

"Would you like to stay for dinner? I'm not much of a chef, but I have to admit I make a mean chili." said the man, pointing at the steaming pot on the stovetop.

The smell of a homemade meal was making her mouth water, but she hadn't known them for long enough to get comfortable. "Thank you for your hospitality, but I should really get going. I have some reading to finish before morning."

The two made their way back to the front door. "Alright, then. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, yeah?"

"See you tomorrow, Mr. Miller- Joel, sorry." she corrected herself, waving him goodbye as she swiftly got into her car and began the drive back to her apartment. She hadn't even begun the job, yet (Y/N) couldn't help but feel giddy about her small success.

————-　❈　————-

A couple of months had passed and (Y/N) was really enjoying her new gig. Sarah turned out to be the sweetest girl the young woman had ever had the pleasure of knowing. She wasn't fussy or troublesome, was very well-mannered, oh-so-friendly and kind, and a fan of using sarcasm here and there, which seemed to be something she picked up from her father. Joel, too, was accommodating to the new addition of their little family. (Y/N) could sense, however, that he was somewhat more reserved - closed, even. It was harder to get to know her employer, but she didn't mind, these things took time.

Leaning against her car, the young woman read her copy of 'Pride and Prejudice' for the 4th or 5th time. Something about it brought her great comfort, especially during the colder months. The festive season was quickly approaching and she wasn't sure if gifts would be appropriate so early-on in her employment. She had zoned out for so long, she didn't have time to register her name being called nor a pair of arms swiftly wrapping around her waist.

"Hey, kiddo." she laughed, hugging the curly-haired girl back.

She let go and stared up at her babysitter with her big round eyes. "Did daddy send you to pick me up?"

"No, I just finished classes and thought I'd swing by."

"What are you reading?"

(Y/N) turned the book to show the cover, "Pride and Prejudice. It's an old book."

"What's it about?"

"Uh- well, it's about a lot of things, but mainly it's the story of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy who have to overcome their differences to end up together. Hence the title."

"That sounds kind of interesting."

"Yeah, but it takes a lot of hatred and pettiness to get there."

The little girl shook her head in disapproval, "Adults. Why do they have to complicate things?"

"Alright, wise one. Get in before you get cold."

The car ride gave them more time to bond. They sang to Sarah's favourite songs and talked about whatever was on the little genius's mind. It was a unique experience for both of them, two feminine energies collided, something each of them longed for dearly.

At home, (Y/N) spent a significant amount of time helping Sarah with her homework: a bunch of English grammar exercises, essay writing, as well as some algebra. Following their arduous work, the girls decided they deserved some fun and made creamy pasta (one of Sarah's favourites) for dinner. Whilst waiting for the patriarch to come home, they got comfortable on the couch to watch 'Mrs. Doubtfire'.

Unsure if she should speak during the movie, Sarah poked her babysitter's arm. "Do you have siblings?"

"I don't, no. Why do you ask?"

"I don't have any either. Do you ever get lonely?"

(Y/N) wasn't sure where these questions were coming from, but she decided to entertain them anyway. "I used to, growing up. Though my parents did a very good job at making sure I felt loved at home. I miss them a lot, but I'm happy here too."

There was a long pause as Sarah was visibly deep in her thoughts. "I never knew my mom," It shouldn't have shocked the young woman, she assumed Joel and his wife had separated after noting the absence of a maternal presence in their home, but it still came as a surprise. "Daddy said she had her own reasons and that they both agreed for me to live with him."

"Adults always have their own reasons for things, even if it may seem dumb. I'm sure it was a very difficult decision to make for her and that she loves you very much."

"I don't think about her often anymore. My dad can be busy, but he does a good job. He comes to every game, takes me to fairs and carnivals, helps me with school projects. He's also extra cool on vacation."

Something about her remark pulled at (Y/N)'s heart. "I see. He seems like a really great dad." The girls went right back to watching Robin Williams dance around while doing chores, as if they hadn't just touched on a thought-provoking subject.

It was almost 11pm and Joel was nowhere to be seen. Instead of letting the girl pass out on the couch, (Y/N) let her hold onto her back as she carried the sleepy child all the way to her room. Making sure all was right, she put her to bed, closed the window, turned on the night-light, then made her way towards the door.

"You're really cool," Sarah said sleepily with her eyes closed. "I hope you stay for a long time."

No compliment in the world could compare to a kid's heartfelt approval. "I hope so too, sweetie. Good night and good dreams."

Walking back downstairs, the young woman took one look around the house and decided she could pass the time cleaning up here and there. She started by tidying up the living room: folding the throws, fluffing up the pillows, putting the board games back on the bookshelf. Then she moved onto the kitchen where she took the trash out, scrubbed the surfaces clean as silently as she could, put the leftover pasta away, and washed the dishes. Satisfied with her work, she went back up to Sarah's room to leave a glass of water by her bed in case she got thirsty in the middle of the night.

In a house that was dead silent, she heard heavy footsteps. In a short panic, she grabbed a pair of scissors that were lying on the desk and crept up closer to the door. The steps were agonisingly slow and calculated. The woman felt like she was in a slasher movie. Babysitters always die first. The only indication she had of the intruder's whereabouts was from the shadow that was created by the light from the kitchen. This is what you get for not turning on every single light in a house where you're all by yourself. One of the most important rules in horror movies, she thought. The shadow approached closer and closer to the door, and just when she hoped the distance was close enough, she leapt out of the room and went straight for the stranger. Unfortunately, her blow was blocked and her body pushed up against the wall. In a blink, she realised what had happened.

"What the hell, Joel?" she whisper-shouted.

"(Y/N)? What are you still doing here?"

"Doing my job. Couldn't let Sarah stay all by herself with no indication of when you'd be back. That would be irresponsible of me."

He let go of her arms, lazily rubbing his face. "You're right, I'm sorry. I got held up and my cellphone died. I'm so exhausted, I completely forgot you were here."

"It's all good, I didn't hear you arrive either," she paused, noticing the blood running down his left hand. "Oh my God, Joel, you're bleeding!"

He looked at the wound like he hadn't even felt it until then, "Oh, this is nothin'. I had worse accidents at work."

"Still, it could get infected. Please, take a seat in the kitchen, I'll be right back."

She went straight to the bathroom to fetch the first-aid kit. It was essential to know where it was, what it had and how to use everything as someone who had to watch a small human being. She went back downstairs to start working on Joel's injury.

"I'm so sorry. I was so caught up in my own mind, I thought you were an intruder, and it was the only weapon at hand-"

"Please don't apologise. It was my bad, really. I should have announced myself," he spoke as he watched her gently clean the cut with a saline cleansing wipe. "Can't blame you for doing your best to defend yourself. Takes courage."

(Y/N) realised that upon closer inspection, her employer was quite handsome. Dark messy hair, a somewhat upkept beard, broad build, crow's feet that indicated how often he smiled, as well as nose wrinkles that indicated how often he frowned. She carefully applied medical tape to close-off the wound and went to put the kit back where it belonged. On her way down, she noticed him looking around in slight confusion.

"Did you…clean the house?"

"Oh, you know, just lightly tidied up. I'm not a fan of leaving the places I stay at messy. Kind of a habit," she noted the silence and her hands instantly became cold. "God, I'm sorry. Again. I- I didn't even ask if you were okay with me touching your belongings, I got-"

"No, you're good. You're good. Don't sweat it. It's just that," Joel chuckled at her need to be so polite after months of working together. "You didn't have to do this. I can't ask you do to things that aren't part of your job description."

"I know. And I don't mind. Really. It's not like I'm playing Cinderella day and night," she said as they shared a laugh. "My job is to take care of a kid and the environment plays a big role."

(Y/N) picked up her bag, ready to leave for the night, "See you on Monday, Joel."

He reached out to touch her shoulder, then just as quickly removed his hand as if she had burned him. "Uh- do you- are you- um," She looked at him with furrowed brows, it's almost as if he was…flustered? "What are your plans for Christmas? Or, you know, holiday season? If you celebrate anything at all-"

"I won't be able to fly out to see my family this year, so I haven't made any other plans yet. Why do you ask?"

The man scratched his neck sheepishly, only then realising how long he had kept her standing on his porch when it wasn't exactly warm outside. "Would you like to celebrate with us? Sarah would be ecstatic to have you."

Warmth blossomed in her chest at the sudden invitation. So gifts are appropriate. Noted.

"I would love to celebrate the holidays with you guys. But only if you don't mind."

"I don't mind."

"Excellent, then I'll be here."

"Great."

"Good."

They stared at each other for way too long, the nanny realised, bearing the slightest of smiles. "Well, then. Good night, Mr. Miller."

He shook his head at her teasing tactic, "Drive safe, Ms. (L/N)."

There she was again, driving back to her apartment, giggling to herself like a maniac and for what? They invited her to celebrate a holiday. People did that all the time. Office workers, family members, casual friends, new and old lovers, it was truly nothing exceptional. But to her it felt different and she couldn't tell if it was because Sarah liked her enough to want her there or if it was because it came from him. Christmas was three weeks away. Three. Weeks. Away. Gifts. She needed gifts. What would she give them? What did they like? It came to her that she didn't know them that well, which meant she had some investigating to do in the little time she had left for shopping.

————-　❈　————-

When Christmas finally came, (Y/N) simply could not contain her excitement. She thought long and hard about the presents she would give the Millers, and while they may have appeared simple, she hoped that they would be appreciated. She personally wrapped them up in brown paper and decorated them with stamps, ribbons, and tags, firmly believing in the art of gift-wrapping. Austin had yet to see snow, she didn't think it would ever happen, yet the city was nevertheless bursting with festive spirit. Various lights decorated the trees and bushes in public parks. People hosted diverse markets in the streets where they sold artisanal goods and delicious foods. (Y/N) had gone ice-skating with the Millers a couple of weeks prior. Joel was as bad as she thought he would be; Sarah, however, was a natural. They enjoyed a lively Christmas parade that same day.

After parking in front of the house that was very tastefully decorated with her help, the young woman made her way towards the door, her homemade chocolate tarte in hand, and knocked, taking a second to register a male voice she did not recognise. The door swung open to reveal a man not much older than her, wearing a plaid shirt and dark blue jeans.

Looking her up and down, the stranger gave her a smirk, "And who might you be?"

"Hands off the babysitter, Tommy!" she heard Joel yell from deep inside the house.

"Ah, the famous babysitter!" he exclaimed, opening the door further. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

It smelled of oven-roasted turkey, of cigarette smoke, and of pine from the christmas tree. She found all of them moving about the kitchen: cutting vegetables, setting the table, washing the dishes. She felt like she'd arrived a tad too late.

"Can I help with anything?" she said, awkwardly standing in the middle of the room.

"Nah, everything's good to go," Joel replied as he scrubbed the remaining pots, "(Y/N), this is Tommy, my brother."

Said brother took her hand and placed a tender kiss on the back of it, "Very nice to meet you." Sarah couldn't hide her look of disgust if she tried.

"I didn't know Joel had a brother."

"You didn't tell her about me?" Tommy asked in exaggerated disbelief.

"Was I supposed to? Didn't know I was running a datin' agency."

"Thought that was part of the deal when we agreed to be each other's wingmen."

"Mm, don't recall us ever doing that."

"Well, we did. Spiritually. When we went to Buddy's Place? It was just around the time when Cat-" Tommy's monologue cut short with one sharp glare from Joel. (Y/N) could practically taste the tension emanating from him. Not a big fan of reminiscing the past, she noted.

"You know what, it's no problem. It's the perfect occasion to get to know each other, eh?" the younger brother flashed her a smile. They sure had impressive genes in this family.

Once the eldest Miller was done cleaning, all three adults cracked open a few cold ones to start off the evening. Tommy had the brilliant idea to teach Sarah a few card tricks, peaking their guest's interest.

"What are you teaching a 12-year-old cards for?" (Y/N) amusedly asked. Sarah seemed excited, she was one of those kids who loved to learn, it didn't matter what it was.

"First of all, every member of the Miller family knows how to play cards, we start young. And second, if not me, then who?" He made a good point. Tommy was, after all, the fun brother. "Wanna join in? I'm told I'm a great teacher."

She caught onto the subtle flirt and found herself wanting to return the energy. He was tall, he was dark, he was handsome. He smelled of cigarettes and beer with a hint of citrus notes. Not bad with kids but he wouldn't want any of his own anytime soon; very friendly, which for him also meant outgoing, ballsy, and prone to getting into trouble; charming to the point that he might seduce a few dozen women in one night; funny enough to make people like and maybe even trust him. She didn't mind flirting, but that was the extent of her intentions, and something told her Tommy Miller felt the same way.

They spent some time watching as Tommy performed the most outrageous tricks seen to man, to which his sole excuse was "I'm a bit rusty". He also tried to teach Sarah the art of cheating which, much to his disappointment and sorrow, his niece refused to take part in for moral reasons. (Y/N) noted the elder Miller's absence and excused herself from the oh-so-riveting demonstration of a disappearing card to go look for him. After searching the kitchen, his bedroom, as well as the garage, she stepped outside with a throw blanket and found him sitting on one of the patio chairs.

"What are you doing here? You'll get cold." he said, glancing at her from the side.

"I'm tougher than I look," she answered, nevermind the blanket tightly wrapped around her frame. "Came to keep you company."

"Who said I need any?" She sensed a hint of a playful tone.

"I don't know, you look awfully lonely sitting next to that empty chair." This earned her a light chuckle as she sat down. He didn't look very warm with one hand in his jacket pocket and his collar lifted up to his chin. She proceeded to awkwardly move her chair closer to his and slowly, as if dealing with a wild animal, reached out to wrap the throw around both of them, thankful that it was big enough for the job.

Sensing how still and tense he was, (Y/N) felt the need to talk to lighten the mood, "So, do you always sit outside all by yourself? In the dark? And in complete silence? Brooding-"

"I get the picture, and no," he took a sip from his bottle. "Sometimes I like to sit in my car."

He was capable of humour, which was a refreshing discovery after countless weeks of being formal. She understood wanting to define clear boundaries between employer and employee, but when she was essentially tasked to bond with his child and regularly invited to family activities, the lines naturally blurred, and her curiosity intensified.

"Who's Cat?"

Joel was silent for a second, then let out a reluctant sigh, "Cat was…a girl I knew way back when I was young."

"You're talking like you're in your 50s."

"I'm 34 to be precise, but fine, back when I was younger," he said grumpily. "We dated for a bit, then we didn't. That's how it went with most women I met."

"Oh, is this a Casanova situation?"

"No, more of a 'not ready to commit to a kid' situation," The silence that followed was loud, (Y/N) didn't want to make a sound, afraid he'd realise what he was doing and shut himself off. "I was 21 when Sarah was born. She's the joy of my life, I don't know what I'd do or where I'd be without her, truly. But...it was hard back then for a single dad with a newborn. Never went to college, had to take on side jobs to sustain both of us. My love life wasn't exactly a priority, and when the opportunity presented itself, they fled as soon as they heard the mention of a child."

The next question was risky, but she couldn't think of anything else, "So you haven't dated since your younger days? Not even the hot single moms in your area?"

This made Joel laugh heartily, a sound she loved to listen to, something she wanted to hear more often. "Not really. I mean I've flirted here and there, but Sarah and I are good the way we are now. She's my priority, and I want to make sure my partner's good to my kid too, you know?"

"If you don't mind my asking, what happened to Sarah's mom?" (Y/N) probed further, "Sarah told me-"

"Nothing happened. She left and that was that." The wall was back up. You pushed your luck.

Luckily for them, Sarah called for everyone to play cards. Which was then followed by board games. What they discovered that evening is that (Y/N) was either incredibly skilled at them or simply unbelievably lucky. She and Tommy got on well, making innocent physical contact here and there, high-fiving each other, sharing a lot of laughter, too much laughter for the man that sat across from them. Joel wasn't jealous, he was never jealous, but the sight didn't make him feel happy either.

After a while, the oven beeped, indicating that the turkey was ready. The four of them prepared the table with bowls of salads, bread slices, side-dishes, making space in the centre for the bird accompanied by roasted vegetables. (Y/N) joined in their prayer before they dug into their food. They shared all sorts of life stories: Tommy's time in the army, the most frustrating clients Joel had ever had, more embarrassing anecdotes from Sarah's childhood, funny and dramatic events that occurred while (Y/N) was on vacation. The young woman then brought out the tarte she'd made for the occasion, much to everyone's delight. It was as silky as she hoped it would be, tasting notes of coffee in her chocolate dessert covered in walnut crumbs. The ambience was relaxing, they sat under the dim light of the scented candles dispersed throughout the kitchen, bathing in the sounds of laughter and utensils scraping against the food on their plates.

When all was devoured, they moved the party back to the living room and Tommy decided it was time for presents. Sarah received hers first, which turned out to be a collection of CDs of her favourite musicians from Tommy and a skateboard she'd wanted for a long time from her dad. She hugged each of them very tightly, already excited to put both of her new belongings to use. Then it was Joel's turn to unwrap a brand new wallet gifted by his brother (apparently, he had complained about his old one he owned for more than a decade) and a second-hand guitar from Sarah that she acquired from a friend's cousin then paid for a cleaning by a professional with her own pocket-money (with a little help from uncle Tommy). Tommy received a steel lighter from Joel, who claimed the custom engraving – a hand-drawn cowboy hat on the front and T. Miller on the bottom – was Sarah’s touch. Just when everyone thought they were done, (Y/N) cleared her throat, calling for their attention, whilst dragging her bag closer to where she sat on the floor.

“I brought gifts of my own.” She declared and pulled out a box and gave it to Tommy, whom she'd met only hours ago. “I’m sorry, I took this just in case someone else would be here, but I wish I had gotten to know you sooner to customise the present to your taste- “

“Oh my sweet God,” he muttered, staring at the large crystal bottle of whiskey. “This is one of the fanciest kind around, it ain’t fuckin’ cheap either!”

“You’re lucky Tommy here is a whiskey connoisseur.” Joel said from his laid-back position on the couch.

The younger brother engulfed her in a warm hug soon after, “You got my taste just right, sweetheart, thank you.”

The room was silent as she extended a purple envelope to Sarah, who sat across from her. It didn’t seem all too exciting. The kid in question opened the envelope, eyeing her babysitter, who herself seemed a bit nervous. The silence in the room was suddenly broken as the 12-year-old squealed her hardest squeal, forcing both Millers to cover their ears.

“It’s two VIP tickets to the Halican Drops concert in Houston next year!” she exclaimed, launching herself at the now grinning woman. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“How’d you get those? I thought they were sold out.” her father asked, clearly having gone through the struggle of standing in long queues to make his daughter happy.

It was difficult to breathe with a prepubescent child sitting in your lap as she held you in a death-grip. “I have an old friend who happens to work at the venue.” she replied, accepting the kiss on the cheek from Sarah who sat back on the ground, practically buzzing as she stared at the pieces of paper in her hands.

Lastly, (Y/N) got up to stand in front of Joel as he looked up at the object she extended in complete surprise.

“You really didn’t have to- “

“Just open it.”

So he did. What he found inside was a Prussian blue knit scarf.

“I noticed you never wear one, and it’s pretty chilly out, so I figured I’d knit you one myself. Finished it just in time a couple of days ago. The color looks flattering on you.” she explained, blushing deeper and deeper with every word. She failed to notice that he, too, was heating up.

“Well, I’ll be damned. This woman can bake, she can knit, she’s smart, and she plays cards like a pro. I mean what can’t you do?” And while she knew Tommy was teasing, she couldn’t help but redden even more.

“I’m pretty proud of my mixing skills,” she added, making him pause with a face that read ‘no way’. “I’m a bartender on the weekends.”

She had barely finished her sentence when she yelped as Tommy scooped her up and over his shoulder. “That’s it! I’m taking this one with me. It was nice to see ya, big brother!”

(Y/N) squealed and wiggled around as much as she could to try to get him to let her down whilst Sarah did her best to save her friend by clinging to one of her uncle’s legs in protest. It was one chaotic scene unfolding in front of Joel, who had not moved from his seat, still staring at the scarf in his hands as he ran his thumb over the soft wool.

After all that excitement, the household members spent a few more hours watching ‘Home Alone 2’ and ‘Jingle All the Way’, DVDs Joel had bought earlier that week. During the viewing, he caught himself glancing at the woman curled up against the arm rest less than a few feet away from him. She remained completely oblivious, amused by the tomfoolery happening on-screen. He left the room for a moment to dispose of his empty bottle in the kitchen. On the short way there, he realised he was slightly tipsy. While he was rummaging through the drawers, he heard someone come up behind him.

“Looking for this?” he turned around to see (Y/N) holding up the bottle-opener. She walked up to the counter and opened the bottle in his hand, brushing her cold fingers against his warm ones in the process.

“You’re cold.” he commented bluntly.

“Yeah, my extremities get cold easily. That’s why I walk around in gloves and thick socks as soon as the temperature starts dropping.”

She threw away her own empty bottle and swiftly turned around to walk back into the living room, when she felt his hand wrap around her wrist ever so gently.

“I didn’t get to thank you back there. You know, for the present?” he spoke softly, giving her a rare smile. “It was real nice of you.”

She noticed the way his pupils were slightly wider than usual and his stance that seemed to swing back-and-forth ever so subtly. “Joel, are you…are you drunk?”

“It takes a lot more than a few bottles of IPA to get me there. I’m just fine.” he whispered, for what reason she wasn’t sure, then unexpectedly walked up the stairs to his bedroom. He didn’t leave her to contemplate her next actions for too long because he emerged not even a minute later, holding his right hand behind his back.

They found themselves standing closer than they should have, but neither of them seemed to care as Joel revealed the mystery object.

“Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”

It was the most beautiful edition of ‘Jane Eyre’ she had ever laid her eyes on. Red leather hardback with golden accents all over it, including the fore-edges, it looked like something out of a royal library.

“How did you know?” her question was vague, but she knew he knew what she meant.

“Sarah told me about the books that you like, said you haven’t read this one in a long time.”

Her warm embrace came to him as a surprise, but in the state of mind he was in, not only did he accept it, but it felt good, it felt right to hug her back.

“It happens to be one of my favourites, so thank you. Really. For all of the things you’ve done for me so far.”

The two held onto each other for longer than needed until Tommy’s call brought them back to reality. The other Miller eyed the returning pair suspiciously as they took their respective places on the couch and went back to watching the movie in comfortable silence. Only he noticed the red book in her possession and fought hard to stop himself from smiling.

Later that night, after all the dishes had been washed, the leftovers put away, and the only child put to bed, Tommy reluctantly sat in the back of the cab Joel had called for him. I am not fetching my brother from a jail cell on Christmas Day, he'd told him. When he walked back into his home, he saw a sleeping figure on the couch, covered by one of the throws.

He went into his bedroom and took no more than 10 minutes to replace all of his linen with fresh ones from the closet in the hallway. He wasn’t going to let his guest sleep on a couch, especially not under a row of windows or next to the entrance door. Carefully picking her up, and she was one deep sleeper, he made his way back to his bed to lay her down on the new sheets.

My extremities get cold easily.

He changed his usual blanket for a thicker one then grabbed a pillow and went to make his bed downstairs. He picked up the scarf lying on the coffee table once more and unfolded it entirely, only then noticing the tiny initials embroidered in grey into one of the ends – J.M. Upon an even closer inspection, he realised it smelled of vanilla and flowers.

————-　❈　————-

masterlist: part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

tags: @elliaze @joeldjarin

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you

86 notes · View notes

girlboypersonthingy · 1 year

Note

Omg if you want can you write the fluff alphabet for Keith pls??? 💜

FUCK YEAH I LOVE ME SOME SOFT KEEF ❤️‍🔥 Thanks again for the rq anon 😘 Got the fluff template from @the-coldest-goodbye cuz I’m lazy 🙃

Keith- Fluff Alphabet 💌

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Okay, in public or in front of like literally anyone, he’s not super affectionate. He’s still nice to you and will occasionally reach for your hand in front of other voltron members. He just doesn’t like PDA very much. He doesn’t like the attention it draws to him. Behind closed doors tho…omg this boy is like so clingy. He just wants to hold you for the rest of his life, you’re so nice to hold. He likes to show affection physically rather than emotionally. He’s kinda dumb when it comes to this romance relationship stuff, he has a hard time explaining his feelings so he’d rather show you how much he loves you with hugs and kisses and cuddles and gentle touches.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

You guys had to have clicked right away when you met. I’m sure Keith is difficult to befriend let alone date so he probably really enjoyed your company and support as a friend to keep you around. He probably felt really safe and at ease with you, like he could be his true authentic self around you. You guys really lean on each other. And because he feels so himself around you, you fall for the purest version of Keith, the real Keith. And he falls for your loyalty and kindness and faith in him.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

KEEF LOVES CUDDLES WITH U OMG. Like I said, he’s emotionally constipated and has a hard time voicing his love for you so he shows it instead and due to your busy schedules, you only get alone time at night before bed and early in the morning if you’re both up before your alarm. So every night before you both doze off and every morning about an hour before your alarm goes off, he’s stuck to you like a koala on a tree branch. It’s the best couple hours of his entire day, everyday. He will cuddle you in any way he can. He’ll be the big spoon or the little spoon, he’ll hold you while you’re facing each other, if he’s in a good deep sleep he’ll lay his head on your chest or stomach with an arm slung over you as he snores. He just wants to be touching you. He needs the physical contact.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Yes and no. Keith definitely wants this war to be over and he wants to go home and have a normal life with you but he’s also never going to give up on helping his friends protect the universe. If he had to, he’d stay in space forever just to protect all of it. But he does occasionally daydream about you and him living together somewhere in the desert or the country maybe where there’s not a lot of people and it’s quiet. Keith is a mess in the kitchen, please keep him away from the stove. He can help you cut stuff up or make the salad but other than that, he’ll burn everything and anything you ask him to cook. Cleaning on the other hand, he can do that. Just imagine this…Keith wearing old scrappy clothes with his hair pulled back by a headband or bandana and he’s deep cleaning your whole apartment/house with those big yellow dish gloves on. Omg hes ur housewife. Sure he can be messy and disorganized at times too but he’ll roll up his sleeves and deep clean when it’s obvious it needs to be done. Just plz cook for him and he’ll clean for you.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

If Keith had to break up with you, I seriously feel like he would still want to be your friend. As much as Keith blows up and loses his temper, the break up would be soft and slow and gently. He wouldn’t want to lose you completely so he’d ask you to be his friend still. So things didn’t work romantically…it’s fine, just don’t leave him behind. He still has love for you. He’ll always care about you.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Keith ain’t the marriage type. He’s just one of those people who thinks marriage is stupid and pointless and too expensive and dramatic. He doesn’t need a big fancy ceremony or a piece of signed paper to prove his love for you. Screw it. He’s gonna call you his wife/husband/partner/spouse no matter what anyone else says. If you really want to get properly married tho, he’d agree and go along with it to make you happy. But he’d be in charge of the guest list…which will only have like 10 people on it bc he also doesn’t like crowds or big parties.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Physically, he’s so gentle with you. He’s always worried he’s gonna hurt you or make you uncomfortable. He holds you so tenderly, he kisses you so lightly. Keith spends most days fighting off training bots, sparring with Shiro and often engaging in battle with an actual enemy. When it comes to you, he treats you like a one-of-a-kind piece of stained glass. You’re the one person he’s soft with. Emotionally…he’s stubborn and short tempered and easily overwhelmed. He’ll snap at you every now and then, he can’t help it. He’s never mad or annoyed with you, it just comes out in his voice and his gestures are harsh as he speaks to you. He tries very hard to be patient and understanding with you. He’s really trying. Give him a break plz.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Keith loves your hugs, it’s one of the most comforting things you can offer him. He likes to hug you a lot, he’ll just randomly hug you throughout your day. But when he’s upset or frustrated or feeling stressed and scared, he’ll hug you really tight and for a while. He’ll just hold you close, arms wrapped fully around your torso as he hides his face in your neck or shoulder. Hugs make him feel so much better, they remind him that he is real and has feelings and that someone cares about him.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

I think Keith would wait a while to actually say it to your face. He would be really nervous and wouldn’t want to rush things or make you feel like you have to say it back. In the meantime, he often slips the phrase to you sneakily and without grabbing your attention first. He’ll mumble it to himself after you finish a good round of training with him and he’s glowing with pride at how amazing you are. He’ll whisper it softly when you fall asleep next to him. He’ll mouth the words as he hugs you tightly, imagining how the words would sound if you said them back to him right now. He just needs time…

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Keith gets extremely jealous but not all the time. He sees you talking to some cool alien or even joking around with Lance, he’s whatever about it. He trusts you so he’s not worried. Now if another galra tried to approach you, oh boy is there gonna be a fight. It’s just a galra thing, he feels that they are more of a threat bc he is also part galra. One time, another member of the blade was standing just a little too close to you and Keith didn’t know what he was saying to you but he just had a bad feeling about it. But he wasn’t trying to flirt with you at all, he was actually asking about Keith and how long you’ve know him, just small talk. Keith stomped over and straight up pushed you behind him, glaring at his teammate in front of him. You had to explain that it was all innocent chit chat and calm him down. Yeah, he’s dramatic asf when he wants to be. He’ll kill a bitch for you, no hesitation.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Kisses with Keith are always soft and slow and lingering. He doesn’t move at a fast pace, even when making out. He takes his time and enjoys it and cherishes the moment. He’s also not sure exactly how to kiss so he goes slow and follows your lead. It’s not often that you two kiss, only in the privacy of your room when you both know you won’t be interrupted or occasionally you’ll share a lingering gentle kiss in the hangar in front of the team after a long and scary mission. Keith loves kissing your lips, he likes that he can feel you kiss him back. He’ll kiss your cheeks and forehead sometimes but he craves the feeling of your lips returning the gesture, ya know? He really likes when you kiss pretty much anywhere that’s not his face. Kiss that boy on the shoulder, neck, back, hands or arms and he’s a flustered mess. Not that he minds face kisses from you tho.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He’s so awkward omfg. He is kind of on the fence about kids. He likes them but he’s unsure how to act around them. He mostly just listens to kids ramble about stuff and he smiles and nods along and offers the occasional “oh really? Wow. That’s crazy.” He would like a kid of his own one day but not anytime soon. He needs time to learn and mature before he has his own kid.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Pretty much every morning with Keith is spent the same way…he’ll wake up earlier than the alarm is set just to cuddle and love on you before you have to go about your busy day. This (and at night before you guys fall asleep) is the only time you two can really spend quality time together. Fighting in an intergalactic war leaves very little time for you two to hang out and bond. So he loves sleepy, early mornings with you where neither of you talk, you just hold each other and place soft kisses on each others face.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights go pretty much the same way as mornings. The first hour that you two are awake and the last hour or so before you two fall asleep is spent in silence while you just hold each other close and cherish the moment. You don’t get much time to be clingy and romantic so bed time is the best time. He’ll plop into bed with you and wrap you in his arms as you’re both dozing off.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Keith would take some time to fully open up to you. I’m sure he probably took a while to open up to Shiro too. He’s just a closed off, secretive kind of person. He doesn’t want his business on display for everyone to know. As friends, he probably told you about his home life and his dad but it wasn’t until you two had been dating for a while that he finally let down his walls and told you all of the things that weigh on him. He trusts you with his life now.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

👀 boy has a very short temper and gets very easily annoyed and over stimulated. He’s definitely snapped at you before and he will most likely snap at you again. He’s always quick to apologize and try to explain himself. He just loses it sometimes, there’s a lot going on and he has a hard time coping. He’ll bottle everything up and stay quiet until it all boils over and explodes out of him. He snaps at pretty much anyone and everyone, don’t take it personally. He’s even yelled at Shiro before. He’s working on it tho…he swears.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Both??? He’ll definitely forget things every now and then, sorry he’s got so many thoughts in his head at one time, sometimes the things you tell him go in one ear and out the other. BUT he does remember a lot about you too. He’ll never forget the gorgeous color of your eyes and your favorite food and your favorite color. He’ll remember many cute moments throughout your relationship but also if you mention that one time that one thing happened, he’ll be like “I did? Oh…okay if you say so.” He might forget an anniversary or your birthday too, don’t be mad. He’s really sorry…just remind him and he’ll make it up to you, pinky promise.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Keith’s favorite moment in your whole relationship is when you first kissed him. It wasn’t on the lips, you had kissed him on the cheek when he was frustrated with not being able to beat a certain level on the training simulator. He was just having a moment, shouting out in anger as he flopped down on the floor. As he tried to catch his breath, you approached him without saying a word and sat in front of him with a sweet smile. He watched you for a second before you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek then followed it with the words “Don’t give up. Keep trying…I believe in you, Keith.” He’s pretty sure that’s the moment he knew he really loved you and he also knew that you really loved him back. He felt so stupid and ugly in that moment of weakness and anger but you showed him unconditional love anyways. He’ll never forget that.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Keith is very protective of you, especially when you are out in the middle of battle with the team. He often insists that you and him stick together regardless of what Shiro or Allura have to say. He’ll protect you by keeping a close eye on you and having your back when you need him. You do pretty much the same for him. You watch out for each other always.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

As far as dates, anniversaries and gifts, Keith’s terrible. He’s never been in a relationship before so he has no idea what to do. If you give him ideas and share what you are planning to do for him, he’ll take mental notes and learn from you and then he’ll try his best those things. With everyday tasks tho, Keith is the sweetest and most attentive partner ever. He asks you how you slept every morning, he’ll ask you if you’ve eaten yet today, if he hasn’t seen you around all day he’ll go searching for you just to check up on ya. He’ll bring you water in the training room if he’s not already there with you, he’ll kiss you every morning and every night, he’ll play with your hair and gently scratch your back when you’re stressed or upset, he’ll listen intently when you need to rant or when you’re excitedly explaining something you like to him. He’s a great bf, he’s so involved with you. Such a sweet pea ❤️‍🔥

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Keith loves to shut himself off from you, especially when you’re having a bad day yourself. He feels like a burden sometimes, like he’s damaged goods that you never asked for. He knows he can trust you and confide in you but he worries that he’ll only make you more overwhelmed and stressed if he tells you how he’s feeling. Most of his bad days are spent avoiding you in hopes of not burdening you with his moody attitude. You always end up finding him and convincing him to open up to you. Once he gets it all off his chest tho, he feels soooo relieved. He just doesn’t want you to ever feel like his feelings matter more than yours.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

NOT AT ALL. He doesn’t give a fuck, especially with you. I mean…you guys are already dating and he’s never been super into his appearance so ??? why would he start worrying about it now? He has other things to worry about. He’s clean and well kept so …what now?

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yesssss, he’s a wreck when he’s away from you for too long. It’s one things to be away from you all day, but when missions are going on for days or weeks at a time with the blade of marmora, he gets so depressed and also so much more irritated. You’re the light of his life so when he can’t see you for several days in a row, he starts to unravel. You just bring him so much peace of mind, without you he doesn’t know how to cope with his emotions. He has no one else to talk to…💔

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

HE SLEEPS SO FUCKIN GOOD WITH YOU IN HIS BED NEXT TO HIM!!! You’ve walked in on him sleeping before and he’s pretty quiet, but whenever you sleep beside him, bro snores like a bear as he clings to you. Sometimes he wakes you with his loud ass snores and his aggressive snuggling but he’s having the best sleep of his entire life rn, you can’t bring yourself to wake him. One time, you gently nudged him awake and whispered “You’re snoring so loud. Turn on your side.” And he straight up went “Huh? Oh…okay.” then fell right back into his loud snoring a second later. Sorry but you kind of signed up for this.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

The only turn off for Keith is a liar. If he can’t trust his partner, he doesn’t even want to be with them. He wants you to be able to tell him anything and he wants to be able to trust you with everything. Just don’t ever lie to him and there’s nothing that can tear you two apart.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Not only does this mf snore loud as hell and suffocate you with his cuddles but he also drools sometimes. One time he drooled on your face and the grossed out scream that came from you startled him awake. He apologized profusely but you just had to tell the rest of the team about it the next morning. He’s never gonna live this down, it’s just too funny.

#voltron #voltron legendary defender #voltron x reader #voltron x you #vld #voltron fandom #keith kogane #keith voltron #voltron keith #keith vld #vld keith #keith x reader #keith kogane x reader #vld fandom

231 notes · View notes

tkthrilla-writes · 9 days

Text

OOK OK OK SO I know I have been away for a VERY LONG TIME.

Basically i had to move apartments... TWICE

Started my thesis

And struggled a bit with my work

BUT

I am on a trip and Lord knows I got some ideas while on it!!!!!!!

Imagine being on a work trip and taking an 8 hour long car drive and not being able to do anything but listen to other people fighting over directions and listening to bad modern music. You would just be sitting in the backseat all nice and calm, meanwhile Alastor would be absolutely infuriated with the lack of coordination some people had and the disgusting and obscenely sexual songs. This man is being driven up the walls!!!!!

Cue this man messing with the radio to piss people off more. Making it glitch, randomly turning it off - but since people depended on it for the damned gps he left that part alone since he didn't want to endanger his host and himself to some moron on the wheel driving into a tree or something.

Then came the Spotify queueing playlist rounds. Whenever it was your turn to pick what songs that should be playing you tried to play something that Alastor would enjoy because you could feel his presence becoming more irritated by the second and mixing in more of your songs so that people don't stay skipping your songs.

Most of your selected Alastor specific songs did satisfy him.... But let's just say a few of your songs hit a little WAAAAAAY TOO close to home for him and his current predicament with his host.

Now you finally arrived at your destination, people settle in. and of course you end up getting a room that you have to share with two other people and of course you get the top bunk bed that is absolutely hard to get on because the ladder is right under squished attic ceiling that makes you have to crawl and gymnastics your way up to even sleep.

Alastor was definitely not happy in the few moments that he took over and had to do that. He ended up making you both look like a spider monkey with broken legs failing at crawling.... Which did make a couple people laugh at you ..... He refused to come out and try to enjoy the trip after that.

But then came the day time when you would all go out to do activities. Which mostly consisted of hiking and exploring museums so he was very happy to know you would be keeping up your physical activities despite being away from home while still broadening your horizons and educating yourself on history and art.

Then came that ecursed night half way into the trip. You decided to try going out to a bar/night club. And of course you dress the most decently out of everyone else. And of course you attracted the most attention while out on the dance floor. And of course this nearly mad Alastor reach a breaking point, barely holding it back long enough for you to reject other people's advances. And of course it was about to break for a split second when one of the people you are on a trip with decided to start flirting with you and try to drunkenly seduce you.

Timeskip to the next day and everybody is tense..... Only thing that was audible during breakfast aside from people eating was the very obvious feedback coming out of the stereo coupled with the music. Once breakfast was done people silently shuffled and started to clean up, slowly slowly starting chatter on what was going to be done throughout the day.

Some people wanted to stay in and nurse their hangover from the night before, some wanted to go out to another hike. You feeling sore from all the walking AAANDD trying to get some peace and quiet from people, opted to stay in and just have an easy day - besides there were 3 days left on this trip you can afford a day if resting. Plus you had a feeling that Alastor just wanted to be around less people despite you having a good time so far.

So here you are just in the bathroom, having your own privacy. You put on a playlist that obviously focused mostly on your songs.

The shower was heavenly after a night out at a sticky and sweat bar with Constant Craving in the background. A nice hair scrub to Soulmate Died. A great rinse to Older. And one must not forget the Jam session to the epic Every Breath You Take. Lastly there was that nice face cleaning to Let the World Burn.

And that was when the Radio Demon snapped

A chain around your neck appeared, and with a forceful tug, your nose was up touching the mirror, with your breath fogging it up. Heart rate spiking from the shock. Senses becoming heightened at the figure in the mirror.

All you could see was a shadow.... Alastor's shadow.... With his face directly Infront of yours. Eyes both holding radio dials, smile becoming tight and stretched with stitches on the corners of his mouth as if to try to hold back his face from splitting apart, sharp yellow teeth becoming heightened from the harsh green glow of the chain that seemed to look like it was going right into the mirror. As if holding up a failed attempt to hold himself back, his teeth started to chatter from whatever he was trying not to do.

"You really do not understand what you are doing?" he said, grinding his teeth as his mouth stretched quite literally ear to ear, showing off his teeth.

"I don't know what you are talking about," you said calmly despite your heart beating a million miles in a minute, making the blood rush in your ears nearly the only thing you can hear.

"I could kill you right here, right where you stand."

"And I would still be happy."

"I could snuff out that pretty little life of yours."

"And then I will breath again in my next one."

"I can drag you down to the deepest depths of hell."

"But I will be able in heaven when I'm with you."

A beat if silence

"You really know how to make a man struggle with his inner mist desires Mon Ange....." his smiled started to thin, reaching a small point where blood started to drip out of his mouth, following his jaw line, to drip down. Somehow landing on the sink tap below the mirror.

"Now thats not on me," you say with a slight chuckle, "sounds like a you kind of problem." You taunted, using the sink to lift you up further to place and rest your forehead right where his would be on the mirror. The mirror fogging up with your breath and staining coming in contact with your bare skin.

"You should know by now," he started, you could feel him reciprocating your actions through the mirror, his face coming closer to yours, "that my problem," he lifts his hand up to rest on the mirror, "is your problem too," he ends with you raising your hand to match where his is on the mirror. It was almost like you were holding his hand, the closest form of contact you probably ever come into with eachother.

Till obviously someone outside the bathroom has to ruin the mood with a loud bang on the door "ARE YOU DONE FUCKING YOURSELF IN THERE!!! I REALLY NEED A SHOWER!"

And in an instant "Please let me kill them."

"No Ali." You said calmly used to his shenanigans, leaving the mirror in favour of getting dressed, the chain disappearing the moment you pull away.

Finally came the day to leave, much to your sadness because you were enjoying yourself and really needed the break, and much to Alastor's pleasure because he really despised the company at present.

As a form of self entertainment, when it was your turn to drive in the ungodly hours of the morning and everyone was asleep in the car, he would take over your body so you could sleep and rest as well. A faint semi tight smile present on his face as he finally was able to put on music that he actually truly enjoyed. And when it was someone else's turn - particularly the other person in the car who had the audacity to get drunk and flirt with you - he made sure to scramble a few traffic cameras to view the car as a speeding vehicle so that person may or may not have a surprise ticket or two when they get home.

AND THATS IT EVERYBODY - NOW ALL OF YOU GO TO HORNY JAIL!

#x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #helluva boss #alastor #demon #angel dust #charlie #hazbin hotel x reader #host au #human reader #alastor x human reader

28 notes · View notes

les-pompiers118 · 10 months

Text

Last call for sin

900 words | rated Teen | Buck angst

A 1x01 coda ficlet for @911hiatus's week one prompt, "hunger." Title from All These Things That I've Done by The Killers, which is a perfect song for pilot Buck (in my humble opinion).

He managed the drive home okay—hands tight around the steering wheel, radio on too loud to keep his thoughts at bay, but he made it. He just put his mind on autopilot and drove. But now that he’s safely on his own front porch, fiddling with the keys in his jacket pocket, Buck feels like he can’t breathe. As if there’s a snake wrapped around his ribcage, squeezing.

He inhales sharply through his nose, then exhales more slowly from his mouth, talking himself through it like he’s his own patient. In… and out. There you go. You’re okay. On the far end of the porch, someone left an empty beer can in the potted geranium that’s languishing between two folding chairs. Buck keeps his eyes fixed on it, both to ground himself while he breathes and to have something—anything—to think about besides what happened yesterday.

He almost lost everything.

In… Out… In… Out…

The front door opens, startling Buck into taking a step back.

“Hey, I thought I heard you pull in,” Kyle says through the screen door. He’s wearing flannel pajama bottoms printed with puffy, cartoon Christmas trees and no shirt. “You okay, man?”

“Yeah, fine. Just didn’t get much sleep.” Buck walks over to the geranium, plucks out the beer can, and hands it to Kyle. “You guys, uh, have someone over last night?”

“Not me. Stayed up late watching a couple movies. I don’t have to work until noon.”

Buck follows Kyle inside, careful not to let the screen door slam. “Sorry if I woke you up.”

“You didn’t. Fucking car alarm next door again. I’m gonna let the air out of their tires next time, I swear to fucking God.”

“I did not hear you say that,” Buck grins, then gestures at Kyle’s pajamas. “Look at a calendar, dude. It’s January.”

“Yeah, so? My mom gave me these. They’re comfortable. Yo, I was about to make some eggs. You want some?”

“Nah, I’m good, thanks. Not hungry yet.”

Kyle gives him a thumbs-up and returns to the kitchen, and Buck goes upstairs to his room. The house is quiet at this time of day, at least on weekdays. Weekends are a different matter. Buck usually comes home to find a few friends-of-friends still hanging around for breakfast. Buck doesn’t care, as long as the mess gets cleaned up and no one has crashed in his bed.

God, he’s so damn tired. It’s not that they had a lot of calls last night; he just couldn’t seem to get his brain to switch off. Four straight hours in his bunk without the bell going off, and he wasted them listening to Chimney snore. Buck drops his gym bag on the floor and kicks off his shoes without looking to see where they land. Clothes are peeled off, replaced with sweats. Curtains get pulled closed. Autopilot. On the way to the bed, he catches his reflection in the mirror hanging over the dresser.

And then he can’t breathe again.

This is not a family.

The next time you screw up, it’ll be your last.

You’re done, kid.

In the dim light, Buck sees all the previous versions of himself staring back at him from the mirror, all with the same birthmark and blue eyes, the same nose that’s just a little too long. Twenty-six goddamn years’ worth of them—and it seems he’s no closer to figuring out how not to screw up his own life.

“I fucked up,” Buck whispers. “I fucked up again, Maddie.”

His reflection pleads with him in the mirror, begging for sympathy, but the voice in his head is brisk, sensible. Maddie’s voice.

Okay? What are you going to do about it, Evan?

He hasn’t seen her in years. It’s painful to think of her, still patching up idiots like him in the ER and then going home to her dickhead husband. At least she has one less thing to worry about with her little brother out of her hair. Buck hopes she’s okay. Maybe even happy.

It’s hard to imagine her happy.

It’s been five years since he left Hershey, hungry for something he couldn’t even name. So hungry it hurt. But now he understands what he was seeking as he was crisscrossing the country in her old Jeep: Purpose. Something he could hold up with pride. And people who gave a shit about him. He knows this because yesterday he almost threw all those things away for a couple of meaningless fucks. Jesus.

So. What is he going to do about it? The first step is obvious. Buck sits down on the edge of his bed and begins deleting every dating app off his phone. He’s done. He has to be done.

He makes the mistake of opening the last app. Four messages. Buck scans the profile pictures, his breathing picking up. God, it was an actual nightmare of a shift. That little girl dragged out of her house, bullets—actual fucking bullets—pinging off the fire engine. In two days, Buck’s going to be right back there, facing all kinds of awful shit again, having people’s lives in his hands. And then there’ll be the consequences of his screw-up to face. Bobby’s probably gonna have him scrubbing floors for a month.

Buck lets his thumb hover unsteadily over GirlOnFire94’s picture. The name feels like fate. He clicks.

One last time. He needs this.

His hands don’t stop shaking for a long time.

#911 #911hiatus2023 #evan buckley #911 fic #my writing

92 notes · View notes

blueicequeen19 · 2 years

Note

went on a spree of a nine hour drive of reading just your blogs. what about dark!rafe x dark!jj x bestfriend kook!fem reader. where she’s best friends with rafe, jj hates her with a passion after she rejected him two years ago. she’s a virgin and one night where she’s home after the hurricane rafe is over to keep her company & jj was hired to clean up the mess. when he catches sight of rafe and reader laughing and being lovey towards one another he snaps. he waits until she’s alone and takes her (just teasing. he hasn’t actually taken her virginity yet). rafe comes & watches, calling her all kind of degrading names. both take her, you can decide who takes her actual virginity and who takes her anal virginity. (CNC , fingering, oral (m & f receiving) , cockwarming (in her throat), spanking, and degrading.)

You flatter me ❤️ thank you! I hope I do your dream justice 😏

Lead You On

Trigger Warning: NON-CON, CNC, MMF, swords crossing - read with caution!

It’s been a few days since the latest hurricane and clean up crews are still all over the property. Needing some fresh air and sunshine, I grab my sketch pad and pencils before heading outside to sit next to pool. This area has already been cleaned up and the pool is back to its beautiful clear blue color.

Movement further in the yard draws my attention to someone wearing a neon yellow shirt, indicating he is part of the storm clean up crew. I can’t help the way my body immediately heats in the cool spring air as I check out his body from behind. The muscles in his back bulged with each movement as he dragged tree limbs to a large pile to be hauled off.

It’s not until he turns around and I tear my eyes away from his massive biceps that I realize who I’ve been gawking at. His blonde locks are concealed by his ball cap and I almost feel sick realizing what I’d done.

It’s JJ. JJ Maybank.

The ruthless, impulsive, greedy Pogue who is known for having sticky fingers when it comes to valuables. I make a mental note to not let him inside the house. He eyes me with the same level of disgust I feel for him now that I can see his face. A face that is still handsome but no less belonging to a Pogue. I turn away, crossing my legs and letting my mind tell me what to draw.

I get lost in my sketch after turning on pandora, settling on some 90s pop to try and tune everything else out. I jump when my phone is suddenly snatched up off the table and JJ stands there fuming.

“If I’m going to be here all day cleaning up your fucking yard, I’m not going to do it listening to your shitty taste in music.” He silences my phone before tossing it into the yard.

“What the fuck is your problem?” I jump to my feet but he shakes his head with a snarl, turning away from me as I hear the back door shut. I turn to see Rafe walk over like he owns the place, casting a shitty look JJ’s way as he sits down at the table.

“What was that about?” Rafe asks, turning my sketch pad to examine my work. I march over to the yard and snatch up my phone, looking eyes with JJ as I sit back down next to Rafe.

“I don’t know what his problem is.” I grumble, yanking my sketch book away from Rafe and shutting it. I hated when people looked at my work.

“I think he’s got a thing for you.” Rafe shrugs, scrolling through his phone. My mind flashes back two years ago when I went to my first party and JJ was there. He was sweet and funny whereas I was awkward and shy. He’d been my first kiss and when he’d slipped his hand down my shorts, I’d panicked. I pushed him away and he’d been a dick ever since.

“He’s a Pogue.” I murmured in disgust. Rafe chuckled, meeting my eyes in agreement.

“Pogues know how to fuck. I’ve been around a few Pogue girls before.” Rafe shrugs and I bust out laughing at how vulgar he is.

“Jesus Rafe.” I mumble, glancing over to see JJ glaring at us like we were the ones who didn’t belong.

“Come on, Y/N. Live a little. Do you want to die a virgin?” Rafe smirks, wiggling his brows at me.

“No but I want to lose it to someone who’s not JJ Maybank.” I counter but Rafe only laughs with a shake of his head. Like he had more to say but he kept his mouth shut.

A few hours go by and Rafe leaves, leaving me alone with the angry Pogue. Part of me wanted to demand to know what his problem was. We didn’t even hardly know each other but he was shitty towards me every chance he got. I felt like he was one of those people that wore a mask. He had everyone fooled into thinking he was this great, charming guy when really, he was just as fucked up as everyone else.

The yard was starting to come back together and I could see the sweat dripping down JJ’s face. Part of me wanted to offer him a bottle of water. The other part hoped he’d die of a heat stroke. The nicer part of me wins and I go inside to the fridge. I shut the fridge and bite back a scream, finding JJ standing there angry as ever. He grabs me by the throat, slamming me into the counter and slapping the bottle out of my hands.

“You stupid little cunt.” JJ grabs the front of my dress and rips it down the middle. I push him but he spins me around, bending me over the island. I look up to see Rafe walk in. I thought he’d left?

He takes in my tattered clothes but doesn’t say anything. Just leans against the fridge like I’m not being assaulted.

“Her parents are gone for the day.” Rafe says to JJ, dread creeping in. Rafe played me. I throw my elbow back, connecting with something of JJ’s. He howls in pain and I know I’ve drawn blood but Rafe jumps in, grabbing my arms and holding me in place stretched over the counter.

“Fucking bitch.” I hear JJ groan as I kick and thrash. Rafe quickly removes his belt, JJ helping him secure my hands behind my back. Then JJ removes the rest of my clothes as I fight to calm my racing heart.

“What the fuck is going on?” I spat, tensing when I feel JJ’s fingers slide between my legs. I can’t help but moan when he finds my clit, forcing my legs open wider as he trades his fingers for his tongue.

“I owe JJ money so I agreed to help him teach you a lesson.” Rafe says casually, forcing two of his fingers in my mouth before I can argue. What the fuck did that mean? Teach me a lesson?

“Someone has to knock you off your high horse.” Rafe smirks, forcing his fingers down my throat until I gag then withdrawing just a enough so I don’t vomit. His thumb presses down under my tongue when I have the idea to bite his fingers off and it immobilizes me. Like a damn dog.

“She tastes like heaven.” I hear JJ groan between my thighs, one of his fingers slipping inside me. I whine around Rafe’s hold, my body growing hotter than I’d ever felt before.

“Not stuck up bitch?” Rafe chuckles, earning a glare from me. JJ laughs too, his fingers pumping inside me harder until I feel like I’m going to explode. I can’t stop the choked moans that leave my mouth, the tears running down my face and all the while I’m thinking.. more.. please.. I need more.

I flinch when JJ’s bare body comes down on mine, his mouth finding every inch of my skin and he turns my face from Rafe, capturing my lips in a hard kiss. He bites my lips hard enough to draw blood and I cry out, spotting what’s leftover of his bloody nose.

“Aren’t you going to beg?” JJ asks, reaching between us and I suddenly feel his dick pressing against my opening.

“For what?” I growl, spitting my blood in his face but he only smiles, not even blinking.

“For me to stop.” JJ presses inside me and I bite back a scream as I feel like I’m split in two. The pain is excruciating as he breaks my virgin walls.

He doesn’t waste anytime slamming inside me as Rafe jerks my chin up, pressing his dick to my lips.

“You bite me and it goes in your ass.” Rafe warns before shoving in past my teeth. I gag as he forces his way down my throat, holding me there as JJ takes what he wants. I can’t help it. I feel myself reach my high over and over again. I can’t stop cumming. I can’t control how wet I am. And I can’t get over the feeling of being absolutely used like I’m not but a set of holes. My body loves it. While the rest of me hates myself.

Droll is dripping down my chin and the corners of my mouth as Rafe forces me to warm his cock, the counter top digging into my hips with every hard thrust from JJ as he fucked me like a man possessed. Like he’d die if he didn’t.

Just when I think I can’t take anymore, JJ stills with a loud moan making me involuntarily clench around him because it was the hottest thing I’d ever heard in my life. Both boys pull out at the same time and I sob for the terrible ache of being.. empty.

“Let me go.” I whisper, unable to pull myself off the counter.

“I have an idea.” Rafe says, rubbing my cheeks like he’s trying to take the soreness out. I can’t see JJ but I assume he agrees because they both maneuver me on top of the counter, securing my legs against my chest using smooth rope. Where did that even come from?

I was bent in half like a pretzel, giving them access to everything they wanted. I’m turned on my side and brought to the edge of the counter. I look up to see JJ and he wipes my hair off my face, plucking my sore lip with his thumb as he smiles down at me like a hungry animal. I feel his cock press against me again then he’s slipping inside. I moan loudly, the angle felt weird but it was still amazing. A soreness I’d never experienced before plagued my whole body.

“Don’t tense up.” JJ says and I look up at him in confusion. I suddenly feel something probing my.. other hole and I quickly try to move away as Rafe slaps my ass with a laugh. I hear Rafe spit, lubing me up.

“Come on, it’ll feel good. Eventually.” Rafe presses inside me, knocking the wind from my lungs as they both fill me completely. God, it burns. I thought I was being split open before but now.. even my stomach hurt.

“I-It.. JJ.. please.” I can’t form a single sentence as they start to move, one in and one out, setting a quick rhythm that wrecks me so hard I swear my soul leaves my body. They take turns slapping my ass as they use me like a sex toy, pounding into me without remorse, overwhelming me with pleasure until tears stream down my face.

“Fuck, she feels so good. I’m gonna cum.” Rafe chants, their motions quickening as they chased their highs. My body had turned to mush. I could no longer tell where I ended and they began as I fought to keep my eyes open. Rafe groans as he cums, slipping from my ass a moment later and JJ quickly follows.

“Such a nasty little slut. Letting us fuck all your holes. I’d think you were lying about being a virgin if I hadn’t seen you bleed.” JJ sneers, pulling free of me as Rafe unties me. I groan as the feeling quickly returns to my limbs. I think they’re done but Rafe rolls me onto my back, burying his face in my pussy, lapping up the cum that drips from me.

“No, no, Rafe. Please.” I cry, trying to fist his hair but he quickly secured my wrists in one of his hands. I lift my head off the counter when I see JJ move behind Rafe, thrusting his dick into Rafe’s ass with no warning. Rafe moans loudly into my flesh and I choke on a sob. I’d never seen two guys fuck before - even if my only experience was porn but it was hot. Seeing an alpha male like Rafe let JJ use him in such an animalistic way.

“You like this? Like watching me fuck his ass?” JJ growls, pushing Rafe’s head harder into my pussy. “You tell anybody and I’ll make you regret it.” JJ snarls, his movements growing harder as Rafe grew louder. I dropped back down on the counter as another powerful orgasm hit me like a freight train.

“Jerk your cock. I know you can cum again.” I hear JJ say and Rafe answers with a moan. I try to scoot away but Rafe doesn’t let me. JJ moans loudly, releasing inside of Rafe and quickly pulling away. Rafe straightens, jerking his cock hard and fast until it shoots out all over my stomach. My eyes fall closed just as JJ fists Rafe’s hair and brings him in for a hard kiss as my world turns black.

My eyes slowly open as I try to find my bearings. My body felt like it’d been hit by a bus as I try to wake myself up. Where was I? This wasn’t my bed? Movement to my left has me glancing over, finding Rafe face down in the bed as JJ hovers over him, slamming into his ass over and over again.

“There she is.” JJ grunts and Rafe shoots his hand out, grabbing my breast harshly as he pants. I can’t help the wave of need that washes over me as I watch them. I watch them until they’re both cumming, my body feeling like a live wire as arousal pools between my thighs.

JJ slips off Rafe, allowing Rafe to scoot over to me and kiss me passionately, his lips much softer than JJ’s. My toes curl as his hand slips between my thighs.

“Careful. We might start to think you want this.” Rafe says against my sore lips, toying with my clit. I feel my legs being spread then a mouth closes around my clit, sucking harshly as Rafe swallows my sounds. I turn away from him as I try to catch my breath meanwhile JJ is fucking me with his tongue.

“Rafe.. I thought we were friends.” I murmur, my body ready to explode as JJ tastes me so expertly. Rafe smiles, running his hands up and down my body and pinching my nipples.

“We are friends. Best friends, actually. Why do you think I’m taking such good care of you?” Rafe jerks my head back to kiss me again as JJ slips two fingers inside my abused hole. “You wouldn’t want anyone else to claim your virginity, would you?” I can’t answer as JJ curls his fingers, forcing an orgasm from me so rapidly.

“It’s funny, really. JJ has been pining after you for years. Meanwhile all you did was lead him on, never giving him the time of day.” JJ suddenly flips me over onto my stomach, pressing his cock against my other hole without warning. It slips in and I cry out into the blanket as Rafe tries to soothe me with gentle touches.

“I never led him on.” I bite out, the sound of JJ’s pleasured grunts having me close again already.

“Yea? You didn’t kiss him, making him think you wanted him just to turn around and kick him to the curb? You didn’t use your friendship with me to try and make him jealous? You didn’t give him fuck-me eyes every time you saw him? I’ve seen the way you look at him.” Rafe taunts, forcing his hand between me and the bed to stroke my clit. I bite back a scream as I cum violently, JJ’s skin slapping against mine faster and harder.

I’m suddenly flipped over and JJ shoots white hot cum all over my stomach, his face scrunched in a snarl as he looks at me, jerking his cock hard, getting every last drop. Rafe runs his hand through JJ’s spunk, rubbing it into my skin like lotion all the way up to my neck.

“So that’s what your problem is? Your ego couldn’t handle rejection?” I spat at JJ, slapping him in the chest as he stays straddling my waist.

“I had that first taste of you after you pushed my hand away and I’ve been obsessed since. Even after you treated me like garbage.” JJ growls, leaning down so we’re almost nose to nose. I felt like I was being cornered by two hungry lions. There was no escape.

“And now that I’ve had you, I’m never letting you go.”

Tag list: @lovedetlost @hoebx @strokesofstokes @alizabethcs @carnisidi @famousdestinygarden @i-always-come-back-xoxo @pankowforlife @my-baexht-ls @onmykneesforrafe @slutforsmutsstuff @bethoconnor @hellosexxxysalvatore @mrsjakeseresin @belcalis9503 @maybanks-luver @i-always-come-back-xoxo @adventuresinobx @hopebaker @drewbooooo @itsmytimetoodream @houseofperfecttaste @harlowsgirl @wh0reforstefansalvatore @urmommas Let me know if I missed anyone! 💕

#smutwarning #jj maybank smut #jj maybank fic #jj maybank imagine #outer banks smut #obx2 #jj maybank fluff #jj obx #jj maybank x you #rudy pankow #rafe cameron smut #dark!fic #dark!rafe cameron #dark!jj maybank

1K notes · View notes