#but I ran out of time and I was already late so .. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gooseraider · 2 days ago

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Staaaaaaawp imagine just yelling "babe! Sunscream" to ellie and putting on her pretty face

Or just being on a summer family trip and ellie and reader just being all cute and kissing or fighting in the pool

Stoppppppppp

Ellie, reader, joel, dina and jessie in a family tripppp

I cant

family trip with ellie

“ellie please move over, i can barely feel my arm.” you whine while slightly pushing her away.

“well, if you haven’t noticed there’s not exactly anywhere else to move.” she says in a rather sarcastic manner.

you guys are currently packed into a four seater truck that’s headed up to the mountains for the next few days. every year ellie, her dad, and her two friends (who are basically her siblings) head up to joel’s cabin in the mountains to escape the summer heat. this is the first family trip where ellie has a girlfriend and in true girlfriend fashion she begged joel to let you come on their trip. it didn’t take much convincing as joel already loved you.

so here you are, cramped in the back of joel’s truck with ellie sleeping halfway on your body, dina and jesse bickering over whether there are more doors or wheels in the world, and the urgent need to use the bathroom.

a couple hours later, y’all arrive at the cabin, “ellie baby wake up, we’re here.” you say, gently shaking ellie.

“already? damn, thanks for being such a great pillow babe.” she says, placing a kiss to your face.

the cabin is nothing short of beautiful, exterior covered in chiseled wood and stone with a breathtaking lake just outside the front of the house and surround by tall lush redwood trees.

you hear joel from the other side of the truck, “okay yall, we’ve made it. everyone go take your bags inside and i’ll get started on dinner.”

everyone nodding in acknowledgment, grabbing their bags and heading inside. “c’mon, let’s hurry inside so we can get the best room.” ellie says taking your hand and practically dragging you inside.

once in y’all’s room, ellie pulls you down with her on the bed, your body intertwined with hers. “i can’t believe i get to share a bed with you for the rest of the week.” she says, rolling you on your back and kissing you hard. the kiss quickly becomes intensified and ellie’s hands are roaming under your shirt.

“hey horndogs, joel wants everyone downstairs for dinner.” you two pull apart instantly at the sound of jesse’s voice.

“jeez, ever heard of knocking?”

“ever heard of keeping it in your pants? oh wait, no you haven’t. you’re like the horniest person i’ve ever met.”

ellie goans, shutting the door and muttering a soft “fuck you” under her breath. “we’ll finish this later.” ellie whispers in your ear, taking your hand and guiding you downstairs.

outside, you all are sitting around the fire pit, plates of food in hand, and telling stories that make your ribs hurt.

“and then, she fell off the horse as it ran away.” joel explains, barley finishing his sentence due his own laughter.

”i did not fall off that horse, he kicked me off.” ellie quickly coming to defend herself.

“it’s okay baby, we can’t all be great horse riders.” you giggle, rubbing a supportive hand on her shoulder.

“so..anyone else got any embarrassing stories about ellie? i need a good laugh.”

ellie flips joel off while you and dina look at each-other, knowing exactly what story yall want to tell. and so for the next fifth-teen minutes you and dina talk about the time ellie tried to make friends with a clown and ended up getting chased five blocks by said clown.

“okay i’ll admit, it wasn’t one of my best moments, but it’s pretty impressive that i out ran him.” ellie says.

“that’s because the clown was freakishly short, you can only run so fast with short legs.” dina says through laughter.

“alright yall, it’s gettin’ pretty late, think it’s time to call it a night?” joel suggests while gathering everyone’s plates.

after everyone heads inside, you and ellie are back in y’all’s shared room. you two have spent the past couple of hours laying in bed watching random youtube videos.

“y’know what would be fun?” ellie asks with a mischievous look on her face.

you turn to her raising an eyebrow, “what?”

“swimming in the lake.”

“you can’t be serious, it’s like midnight.”

“no it'll be fun, we can pretend to be mermaids or something.”

“no.”

“pleaseee, i promise it’ll be fun.”

“if we do this you have to shower with me tonight.”

“deal.”

you and ellie are now outside the cabin, the only source of light coming from the moonlight reflecting off the lakes surface. ellie is the first one to get in, “c’mere, why’re you just standing there?”

“it’s cold outside ellie, and i’m sure the waters even colder.”

“i’m here to warm you up but you have to get in.” ellie says in a teasing tone.

you start walking towards the water, instant tensing up when you feel the coldness of the water. ellie swims up to you, taking your hand and pulling you deeper into the water.

“ellie stoppp, it’s cold.”

ellie wraps her arms around you, pulling you as close as possible. “you warm now?” ellie asks, kissing up your jaw.

“mhm, very warm.” you say, softly whimpering as she continues kissing down your neck.

“hey i thought we were gonna play mermaids.”

“we are, i’m a mermaid that loves kissing her beautiful girlfriend.” she says kissing your lips.

your gaze settles on ellie’s face, admiring the way the moonlight captures her features perfectly. her vibrant green eyes now blending in with the dark forest trees, her freckles now more defined by the moonlight, her lips and cheeks flushed pink from the cold. “you’re the most beautiful girl ever.” you say, running your hands down her cheeks.

her light pink cheeks turn multiple shades darker, “not true, cause you’re actually the most beautiful girl the ever walk this earth.”

“i beg to differ but i’ll let you win this time.”

yall continue to swim until you feel your bodies cannot withstand the cold anymore, deciding to head back inside to prepare for bed.

you open the front door, hearing it creek slightly. “shhhh baby, you’re gonna wake the whole house.” you just roll your eyes, heading back to the room.

ellie walks in instantly flopping on the bed. “ughhhh ellie no you’re soaking wet and you have to shower.”

“do i have to?”

“yes, you promised you’d shower with me, now get up and c’mere.” you say, pulling ellie up from the bed.

you and ellie’s shower was anything but productive, yall spent half your time in the shower washing each-others hair and giving each-other mowhawks. “you look like a wet duck.” you say, giggling at ellie who’s head was covered in shampoo.

after a semi successful shower, you and ellie are now dressed in comfy pajamas, holding each-other under the covers. “goodnight baby, i love you.”

“i love you more.” you whisper

“i love you the most.” ellie whispered, kissing you on the lips, quickly ending the debate.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

the brightness from the morning sun wakes you up and you immediately notice the lack of ellie’s presence, and as if on queue ellie walks into y’all’s room, “morning sweetheart, gotta get up, we’re going to the lake.” she says, placing a mug of tea on your nightstand.

ellie plops back onto the bed pulling you into her arms, lightly scratching your head, “joel has sent us out on drink duty today, so we gotta go to the store soon.”

“mm okay, grocery shopping date yay.”

jesse calling yall down for breakfast pulled you both back to reality, “wish we could stay in bed all day.” she mumbled.

“when we get back we can stay in bed all week if you want?”

“i would want nothing more.” ellie says kissing your head, getting out of bed, pulling you with her and leading you downstairs.

after enjoying some delicious pancakes dina made, you and ellie were in joel’s truck, on your way to the grocery store at the bottom of the mountain.

the drive there was peaceful, country music was playing softly in the background and ellie’s hand was in yours, occasionally kissing the back of your hand. yall arrive at the store, heading to go grab a shopping cart.

you ask ellie, “what did we need again?”

“drinks.”

you wack her arm, “i know that genius, what kind of drinks.”

“joel said whatever we want.”

“okay, this should be ea-“ you pause mid sentence as you watch ellie climb into the cart.

“ellie, what the heck are you doing?”

“taking a seat on my royale throne, what’s it look like im doing?”

“you’re unbelievable, i’m not pushing you around the whole store.”

“but you have to, this is my royale throne and i’m royalty, so you must obey me.” she says in a really bad british accent.

you end up pushing ellie throughout the store, her lap full of lemonade and soda, ellie declares it’s time to check out now (she’s secretly tired of being in the cart but refuses to tell you).

“wait before we check out i wanna get sweet tea.” you say, turning the cart away from the checkout counter.

“who the fuck even likes sweet tea?” disgust evident in her voice.

“me duh.”

“no way, i would’ve never dated you if i knew you liked sweet tea.” you gasp.

“how dare you.”

“sorry baby but i don’t think i can be with someone who actively enjoys sweet tea.” you just roll your eyes, smacking the top of her head.

you finally convince ellie to get the sweet tea and now yall are finally heading back to the cabin.

“joel’s gonna kill us” she’s says

“why?”

“cause we were in the store for like an hour.”

“we wouldn’t have been in there that long if you just bought the sweet tea like a normal person.”

“whatever, i still stand by what i said, sweet tea is absolutely nasty and anyone who likes it is a freak.”

“don’t call me a freak!”

“hey, not my fault you’re a sweet tea loving freak.”

back at the cabin, you two bring in the many drinks you bought. “what took you girls so long?” joel asks.

“someone here wanted to pick a fight with me over sweet tea.” you say gesturing to ellie.

she groans, “oh my god, stop with the sweet tea talk.”

“dina and jesse are out there by the lake if you want to join them.” joel says.

out by the lake, you and dina are taking some photos while jesse and ellie get ready to go dive for the fish in the lake. ellie is about to go get in the water when you call out for her, “ellie c’mere!” she turns around and jogs over to you.

“what’s up babe?”

“you gotta put on sunscreen before you burn and turn cherry red.” you say already reaching for the small bottle.

you take a small amount and carefully rub it in on ellie’s face, you notice how her freckles have multiplied since being outside and how her eyes look extra pretty in the sun “your skin is so soft for someone who doesn’t have a skincare routine.”

“what can i say, it’s my young and youthful face.” ellie says as she makes a couple of model faces.

“yeah, i guess you’re going to be sexy forever.” you say giving her a kiss on the lips.

somehow you got roped into playing a game of chicken, you’re on top of ellie’s shoulders, trying your best to push dina off jesse and into the water. “c’mon babe you got this!” you hear ellie shouting from below you. you eventually are victorious and successfully push dina off jesse. ellie celebrating your victory by giving you a fat kiss on the lips.

you guys play another round, this time it’s you versus ellie. “i love you babe but i don’t think you’re gonna win this one.” ellie says, obviously too cocky for her own good.

“we’ll see about that.”

to your surprise you actually managed to push ellie into the water. “what was that you were saying earlier ellie? yeah that’s what i thought.” you say, turning to give dina a big high five.

ellie swims over to you, ”just so you know i let you win.”

“didn’t take you as the sore loser type ellie.”

“i am not.” she says, splashing water at you

“don’t splash me!” you say, splashing her back

she splashes you again and before you know it you two are full on wrestling in the water. she’s dunked you under water at least five times by now so you swim under water and pull her feet out from under her, dragging her down to the bottom of the lake.

ellie comes back up, “that had to be a form of attempted murder.”

“it was not! you’re just a bad swimmer.”

“wanna test that out? i’ll race you to tree on the other side.”

“bet.”

you ended up losing.

“who’s the bad swimmer now?”

“still you.”

ellie splashes more water at you, “wrong answer.”

you and ellie end up sitting on some rocks away from everyone else. there’s a silence between you two, not awkward, just comfortable. ellie’s head finds its way into your lap, eyes fluttering closed as your nails rake through her damp hair.

“we should head back soon.”

ellie sighs, “can we just stay here for the rest of the day?”

“as much as i would love to, it’s gonna get dark soon and we’re still in the middle of the forest.”

“don’t care, i’ll fight off any bear that tries to eat us.”

“and i’m sure you’ll put up a great fight against the bears.”

you and ellie eventually swim back towards the cabin and head inside. you two head upstairs to freshen up, while you’re in the shower ellie takes this time to sketch in her journal. more specifically she sketches you sitting on the porch, you swimming, and the way you look at her like nothing else matters.

“whatcha drawing?”

ellie looks over to see you exiting the bathroom in one of t-shirts and a pair of shorts, “oh nothing, just random stuff.” she says while closing her journal.

“i know you’re lying els.”

“you don’t know that.”

“you’re ears are bright red and you’re fidgeting.”

ellie didn’t even notice she was fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, “i was drawing you.” she says in a low tone.

“huh?”

“i- uh was drawing you.”

you smile at her.

“i know i know, it’s sappy and you probably think im a creep or someth-“

ellie gets cut off by you kissing her, “i don’t think it’s creepy at all, in fact i think it’s super cute.” you say while pulling her into a hug.

later that night everyone’s gather around the fire pit again, marshmallows on sticks and cups of hot chocolate in hand. after many silly campfire stories, everyone starts heading to bed. except for you and ellie, you two are wrapped up in a shared blanket, collecting warmth from the fire.

“i’m really glad im here with you.” you say, snuggling closer to ellie.

“me too, you make everything better.”

silence.

“no seriously, i couldn’t imagine my life without you. i don’t know how i was living before i met you, but all i know is i don’t want to continue a life without you.”

“i love you so much ellie, thank you for inviting me into your family and your world.”

“it’s easy when the person you’re inviting is the most beautiful and amazing girl in the world. i love you so much, more than you’ll ever know.”

a/n: hope yall enjoyed!🪿

#ellie williams #ellie willams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x f!reader

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barnesonly · 1 day ago

Text

── ⊹ ࣪ ˖ Lust ˖ ࣪ ⊹ ──

professor!bucky barnes x reader

summary: You’re a literature student. He’s your English professor — brilliant, composed, and entirely off-limits. But the more you write, the more he notices you. And what begins as admiration quietly unravels into something far more dangerous.

word count: about 13k

WARNINGS: 18+ explicit content, MDNI. curse words, mutual desperation, age gap, dirty talk, praising kink, semi-public sex, fingering, PiV, unprotected sex.

Part 6 | Previous Part

The morning light slanted warm and golden through your dorm window, stretching across the floor like a sleepy cat. You were at your desk, hands brushing a light layer of powder across your face in the small mirror propped up against the textbooks you still hadn’t quite tackled over the weekend.

Your hair was mostly dry after your quick shower, and you ran your fingers absently through it while you stared at yourself, making sure you didn’t look as tired as you felt. Despite spending most of the weekend tangled up with James—doing everything but sleeping—there was that pleasant sort of ache lingering in your body and the tired-but-happy hum that had followed you right into Monday morning.

Behind you, Sarah was in full chatter mode, her voice like a familiar, upbeat soundtrack you’d learned to listen to and tune out at the same time.

“…so then Maddie texts me at like two a.m.,” she was saying, already rummaging through her bag, her phone lighting up her hands every few seconds with new notifications. “And I’m like, girl, you cannot come over now—I have class at eight. Get your shit together.”

“Mm-hmm,” you murmured distractedly as you capped your lip balm, then grabbed your hoodie off the back of your chair.

Sarah paused mid-rant to look up at you. “You okay? You’re quiet this morning. Did you even sleep?”

Your heart skipped—for a split second you wondered if you looked as lovesick as you felt. “I’m fine,” you assured her, slipping the hoodie on and checking your reflection one last time. “Just… had a long weekend.”

That was the understatement of the century.

Sarah grinned, clearly satisfied with your answer as she went back to typing on her phone. “Well, you better wake up. Professor Carter is a nightmare on Mondays. Remember that time she threatened to give a pop quiz just because nobody answered her?”

You laughed under your breath and started packing your bag—laptop, notebook, pen, water bottle—making sure you had everything you needed. The room felt comfortably familiar as you moved around it, Sarah humming to herself and the light outside shifting slowly into full morning.

“You know,” Sarah added offhandedly, “I feel like you’ve been… I dunno, a bit happier lately.”

You froze for a second before tugging the zipper on your backpack closed. “Really?”

“Mm-hmm,” she teased, her grin mischievous as she finally glanced up at you. “Your guy must have been nicer lately…”

Your face warmed and you rolled your eyes, swinging your bag onto your shoulder as you headed for the door. “You have no idea,” you muttered, mostly to yourself—a little smile pulling at your lips despite your best effort to hide it.

“See!” Sarah laughed, breezing past you into the hall. “That’s exactly what I mean. C’mon, we’re gonna be late.”

And as you followed her, your heart thudded just a little faster—already knowing this Monday was going to be very, very different.

You and Sarah fell into step together as you crossed the campus, the morning air crisp and bright. Students were already crisscrossing the pathways like hurried birds, backpacks bouncing and phones glued to hands.

“You sure you don’t want to come with me for coffee after class?” Sarah asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’d love to,” you said, adjusting your bag on your shoulder, “but I have that lecture right after. Next time?”

“Next time,” she agreed easily, already spotting one of her friends up ahead. “Alright, gotta run—see you later!”

“Bye!” you called after her as she broke away into the crowd.

You slowed your pace, enjoying the brief pocket of solitude before your next class—until a familiar voice called out your name.

“Hey!”

You glanced over your shoulder and spotted Theo jogging up to you, hands stuffed casually into the pockets of his jacket, a boyish grin on his face. “Hey,” you greeted him back.

“Going to Barnes’ lecture?” he asked, falling into stride with you.

You nodded, hoping the heat you felt in your cheeks wasn’t obvious. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Theo replied. “Figured I might as well go with someone who knows where they’re going.” He chuckled, and you couldn’t help but smile at his easygoing energy.

“You act like you haven’t been on this campus long enough,” you teased.

He just shrugged. “I may or may not have a bad sense of direction.”

You laughed softly as you followed the familiar path toward the arts and humanities building together, making light conversation. But under the surface, you couldn’t help feeling a flicker of anticipation—knowing exactly who was going to be waiting at the front of that lecture hall.

Theo pushed the door open for you when you arrived, and you murmured a quick “thanks” as you slipped inside.

Your heart gave a small, involuntary thump as you scanned the mostly empty rows, the professor’s desk already neatly arranged with papers.

And sure enough, there he was—James—leaning against the podium, looking up just as you walked in.

The tiny, fleeting smile that crossed his face when his gaze found yours was enough to make your stomach flip—right before it faded into something more neutral as his eyes briefly shifted toward Theo.

You felt James’ gaze follow you as you and Theo moved further into the room. Students were slowly trickling in, voices murmuring, chairs squeaking.

You chose your usual seat and Theo—still chatting as he pulled out his laptop—slid into the chair right beside you.

The second you glanced up toward the front again, you caught that subtle shift in James’ expression. His brow tightened, gaze fixed on Theo just long enough for you to feel a flicker of guilt, even though you hadn’t done a thing.

“Looks like Barnes is in a mood,” Theo whispered, leaning closer.

Your lips twitched. “You shouldn’t be complaining. Especially after last week.”

Theo grinned at that, but you felt the heat creep up your neck anyway.

„I’m not,” he huffed.

You busied yourself setting your notebook on the desk, all too aware of the professor’s stare. And sure enough, as the last few students took their seats and the room quieted, James pushed off the podium with that measured grace you’d come to recognize—hands tucked into his pockets as he began pacing slowly at the front.

“Alright,” he started, his voice warm and smooth and unmistakable. “Let’s pick up where we left off last time.”

As he spoke, that dark blue gaze kept drifting toward you. You could feel it like a physical touch, stirring a familiar ache low in your belly.

You shifted in your seat, telling yourself to focus—but that was easier said than done.

James kept lecturing—smooth voice spilling across the room as he flipped slides and scrawled points on the board—yet every so often, his gaze would drift back to you. It was subtle, practiced, like he knew exactly what he was doing without even thinking about it.

And god, every glance had your heart skipping in your chest.

By the time the lecture was winding down, you were already gathering your things slowly, hands unhurried as you tucked your pen into your pencil case and stacked your notebook neatly.

Beside you, Theo was shoving his laptop into his backpack.

“You ready?” he asked, casual.

You paused. “Um—you can go ahead,” you said quickly, trying to sound breezy. “I’ve gotta talk to Professor Barnes about something.”

“Oh,” Theo blinked, shrugging a strap onto his shoulder. “That’s cool. I’ll wait for you.”

Your stomach dropped.

Of course he’d say that.

You forced a smile. “No, seriously—you don’t have to wait for me.”

But Theo was already shrugging again, leaning back against the seat. “Nah, it’s fine. I don’t mind.”

Your gaze flicked toward the front of the room just as James dismissed the class.

Students shuffled past him toward the doors, voices loud and chairs scraping—but his eyes were already on you, sharp and knowing.

And just as Theo was texting something on his phone, James pushed off the desk and crossed the room toward you, hands tucked into his pockets, gaze burning a path straight to you.

“Hey,” he greeted smoothly as he stopped at your row, his voice lower now, carrying that unmistakable edge. “Can I talk to you for a second? About your grade—the B- one?”

Your breath caught.

Your eyes slid to Theo, then back to James.

He held your gaze, but a second later, his eyes shifted—pinning Theo with a look so blank and unimpressed that Theo straightened up a little.

“Oh,” Theo said, like he’d finally gotten the message. “I’ll—I’ll wait outside then.”

James inclined his head in a curt nod, and only after Theo grabbed his stuff and slipped past him into the hall did James finally look at you again—a muscle flexing in his jaw as he spoke.

“God,” you breathed out, a soft, relieved laugh slipping past your lips. “I thought he was never going to leave.”

James’s gaze softened, just a little, as one brow arched. “Persistent guy,” he murmured, voice quiet but laced with amusement.

You chuckled, tucking your notebook into your bag and swinging it onto your shoulder. “He means well, I guess,” you said, then glanced up at him properly, your lips twitching into a smile. “But I’d much rather be here with you.”

That pulled the corner of his mouth up into a subtle smile—that one only you ever seemed to see. “That’s good,” he replied, hands slipping into his pockets as he shifted his weight comfortably. “I was starting to wonder if you’d ever get rid of him.”

Your heart did a little flip at the faint possessiveness in his tone, and you tilted your head at him, feeling that same flutter you always felt around him.

“You didn’t need to worry,” you said softly.

James held your gaze for a lingering moment, his eyes warm despite the professor mask he always wore. “I’m not,” he answered, then let out a breath that was almost a quiet laugh. “Not really.”

You smiled, fingers brushing the strap of your bag as you stood there together, the quiet hum of the emptying hallway around you like its own little world.

James’ gaze stayed fixed on you, his voice dropping a shade lower as he spoke. “You know…” he began, eyes searching yours, “my last lecture today got canceled. You can come by my office if you want.”

Your breath caught, a familiar thrill sparking in your chest at the invitation. “Is that so?” you teased lightly, brow arching as you bit back a grin.

He shifted a little closer, hands still tucked casually in his pockets but his tone warm, intimate in a way that was meant only for you. “Mm,” he murmured. “Figured we could use the time. Unless,” his mouth tilted in that way that made you weak, “you’d rather spend it with Theo.”

You let out a quiet laugh at that, stepping closer yourself so there was hardly any space left between you. “That’s not even a question,” you replied, voice soft. “Your office sounds a lot better.”

James held your gaze for a long, charged moment, that little satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “Good,” he said, voice a low hum. “I’ll be waiting.”

And god, the way he looked at you—warm and possessive all at once—had your heart racing as you nodded and followed him down the hall.

Your cheeks heated just a little, and you had to look away before you gave too much away in the middle of an empty classroom. “See you later, Professor,” you murmured, savoring the title like an inside joke.

“See you,” he replied, gaze lingering on you as you finally turned toward the door.

The quiet of the hallway greeted you as you stepped outside, the usual buzz of students a few doors down. And of course, there was Theo—hands tucked into his pockets, one shoulder against the wall like he had nowhere better to be. The moment he saw you, his face brightened.

“There you are,” he said casually, straightening up and brushing a stray lock of hair from his eyes. “So, are you gonna fix that grade or what?”

Your lips twitched into a smirk before you could stop yourself, all too aware of what you’d really been up to over the weekend. “I already did,” you replied breezily.

Theo’s brow arched, his easygoing grin making a brief appearance. “Oh, is that so?”

“Mm-hm,” you said, shifting your books in your arms and tugging your bag higher on your shoulder as you started to walk toward the stairs. The sound of your heels clicked softly against the tiled floor. “Wrote up some extra credit. Took care of it over the weekend.”

He fell into step next to you, hands still in his pockets. “Huh,” he muttered, sounding half-impressed and half-curious. “That was fast.”

“Yeah,” you agreed simply, your smile impossible to hide as you kept your gaze trained ahead, savoring the unspoken secret that still made your pulse race.

“Good,” he replied at last, a touch of amusement in his voice as you rounded the corner toward your next lecture together—him completely oblivious to what “extra credit” had really involved.

———

A few lectures later you were free.

You took your time packing up—sliding your notebooks into your bag one by one, lingering over each tiny task as your heart thudded with anticipation. It wasn’t like you had anywhere else to be. Except, of course, back with him.

The familiar thrill rushed through you as you wove your way across campus. The afternoon light glinted across the windows as you cut through the halls, feet carrying you almost automatically toward his classroom. Every step felt like a secret, every corner you turned making your pulse jump a little faster.

When you reached his door, you paused for a breath, fingers toying with the strap of your bag like you weren’t dying to just go in already.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you eased the door open and slipped into the empty classroom. The door clicked softly behind you, sealing the world outside, and there he was.

He glanced up the second you stepped inside, his gaze locking onto you like you were the only thing that mattered. The tension in his shoulders eased instantly—a look you’d come to recognize—and a slow, knowing smile spread across his lips.

“There you are,” he greeted, voice rich and low as he set his pen down and leaned back in his chair.

“Here I am,” you echoed, your lips curving as you locked the door.

For a heartbeat, you just stood there, drinking him in—sleeves pushed up to his elbows, collar undone just enough to hint at warm skin, dark eyes fixed on you like you were all he could see.

And then you moved.

You crossed the room slowly, savoring the way his gaze followed you, and with a deliberate softness you hopped up onto the edge of his desk. Paper rustled under you, but neither of you cared.

James was already pushing back his chair, unfolding to his full height as he closed the small distance between you.

“God, I missed you,” he murmured as he came to stand between your knees.

His hands were gentle at first—one cupping your cheek, thumb brushing along your cheekbone like you were something fragile—and you couldn’t help leaning into his touch.

“Missed you too,” you whispered, eyes fluttering as you felt his breath warm against your lips.

He bent his head and kissed you—slow and unhurried, like he was savoring every second, mouth melting into yours with a possessive sweetness that made your heart stutter.

Your hands fisted in his shirt, tugging him closer until there was no space left, only the quiet sound of your breaths catching and the delicious pressure of his mouth against yours.

“I thought about you all day,” he murmured between kisses, his hands sliding up into your hair, tilting your face just the way he liked so he could deepen the kiss.

“I couldn’t concentrate,” you admitted breathlessly against him, legs locking loosely around his waist, feeling him hum low in his chest.

“That’s my girl,” he growled softly, lips dragging down your jaw as one broad palm flattened against the small of your back, pulling you flush against him.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmured into the curve of your neck, and you let out a shivery little sigh, arching into him as his mouth pressed a trail of warm, deliberate kisses along your throat.

Your hands slid up to cradle his face, tugging him back up so you could kiss him again—deeper this time, a kiss that told him you’d thought of nothing but this since you left his class earlier.

He broke the kiss slowly, lips brushing yours one last time before leaning back just enough to look into your eyes—gaze dark and full of heat.

“God, I missed having you like this,” he murmured, hands still possessive on your hips. Then his gaze dropped, roaming down your body with a hunger that made your breath catch.

“Let me see you,” he coaxed, voice low and rough as his hands slipped lower, fingers brushing the hem of your skirt.

Your lips parted in a shaky breath as he began to ease the fabric upward, slow and deliberate. “That’s it,” he murmured, thumbs stroking circles into your thighs as more of your skin was revealed inch by inch.

You gripped the edge of the desk, pulse fluttering as he finally bunched your skirt up around your waist, dark eyes fixed between your legs.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he told you, voice edged with something deliciously raw as one hand drifted up your inner thigh. “Look at you… already trembling.”

A quiet whimper slipped past your lips as his fingertips skimmed higher, teasing up the softness of your inner thigh before finally hooking into the waistband of your panties.

“Lift for me, sweetheart,” he urged, eyes locking onto yours as you obeyed, hips tilting up just enough for him to draw your panties down your legs—agonizingly slow, the fabric sliding across your skin like a caress.

“Good girl,” he praised huskily, hands steady and sure as he tugged them all the way off, then tucked them into his pocket like they belonged there.

Your cheeks were burning, breath unsteady as he stepped back just a fraction, gaze drinking you in—skirt pushed up around your waist, legs spread for him, every bit of you aching.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured, hands trailing up your bare legs again—feather-light at first before his palms settled warmly on your knees and began to ease them further apart.

“Already so wet for me too,” he added, voice turning darker as his thumb brushed against you, making your whole body jump.

Your hands were trembling against the desk now, breath catching as you nodded, eyes fixed on his face—and the wicked glint in his eye as he bent a little closer.

“That’s it,” he murmured, thumb stroking slow and deliberate. “Just keep those pretty legs open for me, baby. Let me take my time.”

And god, you were going to let him do whatever he wanted.

He held your gaze for a charged moment longer, thumb tracing a slow, tantalizing path up the slick heat between your thighs before he finally pressed just a bit more firmly—enough to make your hips jerk, breath spilling from you in a trembling gasp.

“That’s right,” he growled under his breath, utterly captivated by every tiny reaction. “You’re so sensitive already… can’t hide a thing from me, can you?”

Your fingers dug into the edge of the desk, knuckles going white as he began to circle your clit with that maddeningly deliberate touch. Warmth rushed through you in waves as your legs threatened to close—and he just spread you wider with his hands, gaze locked on where you were most exposed.

“Uh-uh,” he chided, low and dark, one corner of his mouth twitching into a wicked smirk. “Keep them open, sweetheart. Want to see you.”

Your body was trembling now, heat racing up your spine as he kept going—slow, practiced strokes that built the pressure in your belly until it was dizzying.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss along the curve of your jaw as his fingers moved faster, slick and sure. “And I love knowing you’re mine, every inch of you… mine.”

You tilted your chin toward him, lips parting for his kiss even as you squirmed against his hand. The way he kissed you—deep and possessive, all heat and hunger—only added fuel to the fire licking through you.

“You feel that, baby?” he murmured into your mouth as one finger pressed inside you, followed by a second, setting a steady rhythm that had your back arching into him. “That’s it—take me so well, just like you always do.”

A shivering moan broke free from your lips and into his, your hands clutching at his shoulders now for something solid to hold onto as his fingers curved just right, stroking that perfect, aching spot inside you.

“You’re gonna come for me right here,” he ordered—voice so low and sure it sent a thrill straight to your core. “And when you do, I want you looking at me. Got it?”

Your nod was desperate and breathless. “’Mm-hmm, James—please,” you gasped, every nerve burning, every movement of his hand winding you up tighter and tighter.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised with a dark, satisfied murmur, mouth brushing your ear as his fingers drove you higher. “Come on, baby… let go for me. Let me feel you.”

And with a trembling, helpless cry of his name, you shattered around him—his fingers still moving through your release as you clenched around him again and again, his other arm wrapped around your waist to hold you close while you fell apart.

Your trembling hadn’t even fully stopped before you felt him shifting closer, his hands still warm and sure against your skin.

“You did so good,” he murmured into your hair as you clung to him, your breath shaky and your body still humming from the aftershocks.

And then you heard the metallic click of his belt unbuckling—slow and deliberate—as he stepped back just enough to free himself.

Your eyes locked onto his hands for a breathless second as they moved to his zipper, anticipation making your stomach twist with a deeper, needier ache.

“You want it, baby?” he asked, voice dark as his hands slipped around your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the desk, his thumb tracing the inside of your knee.

You could only nod, lips parting on a breath that felt like a prayer.

With a quiet growl, he guided himself to you—hot and hard and so perfectly familiar—and then he was pushing into you inch by slow inch.

Your lips fell open on a soft gasp as you took him, hands flying up to grip his shoulders.

“There you go,” he murmured against your mouth, his hands tightening on your hips to keep you anchored.

He paused when he was fully seated inside you—so deep you could feel every ridge and heat of him—and pressed a kiss to your lips like he couldn’t help himself.

“You feel so fucking good,” he rasped as he began to move, long, deep strokes that had your thighs trembling and your back arching into him.

Every slow thrust pulled a new sound from you, his name whispered into the quiet, dim light of his office.

“You’re mine,” he groaned against your neck, one hand threading into your hair as he rocked into you—unhurried, deliberate, making sure you felt every perfect inch of him.

And you were, god, you were—his low voice in your ear, his hands on you like you belonged nowhere else, the deep, devastating slide of him through you over and over until you were dizzy with it.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, and all you could do was hold on as he fucked you slow and deep—like he had all the time in the world to unravel you completely.

His hands were gripping your waist so tight you were sure you’d wear his fingerprints for days. The two of you moved together like it was the most natural thing in the world—your bodies perfectly in sync, the slick slide of him making you bite back whimpers every time his hips ground into you just right.

You were clinging to him, eyes fluttering, lips parted against the sharp edge of his collar as you fought to keep yourself quiet in the empty classroom. The blinds were pulled, the door locked—the entire campus might as well have disappeared.

“You’re perfect,” he growled under his breath, voice like gravel as he kissed a trail up your throat.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him in closer, moaning into his mouth as he fucked you deeper and slower, every deliberate thrust lighting up your whole body.

“God, James—” you breathed, rocking into him, already trembling on the edge of losing it entirely.

And that was when the knock came.

Both of you froze like you’d been plunged into ice water—your heart jumping into your throat.

Your eyes went wide, breath held as James’s hands instinctively covered your mouth, his gaze pinned to yours.

A sharp voice from the other side of the door followed.

“Professor James? Are you there?”

You couldn’t help the panicked shiver that went through you—feeling him still hard and pulsing inside you, both of you trapped in this perfect, terrible tension.

James stayed perfectly still, his palm firm over your lips as if expecting you to cry out just from the adrenaline. His dark eyes were locked on yours, his brow drawn together in a fierce frown.

Your hands tightened on his shoulders, nails pressing into him, every nerve on fire as you tried not to breathe too loudly.

Another knock—louder this time—and you heard a faint rustle outside like someone was leaning closer to the door.

“Professor?” the voice called again. “Sorry to bother you, just need a quick word.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you felt dizzy, eyes pleading up at him in a mixture of lust and fear, a trembling ache still humming between your legs even as you were scared out of your mind.

James’s thumb brushed your cheekbone gently, his lips ghosting your ear as he whispered so low you could feel the vibration of it through your entire body:

“Not a fucking word.”

And you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to go utterly still—trapped in that dark, dizzying hush together as someone stood just on the other side of the door, so close they could have heard your racing hearts if they listened hard enough.

Your breath was caught halfway up your throat as you stared at him, pulse thundering in your ears, still trembling from the aftermath of what you’d just been doing.

James pulled out of you carefully—his hands still gentle even though there was a sharp edge of panic tightening his movements—and you bit back a sound at the loss, hastily tugging your skirt down over your aching thighs.

The knock came again—sharper this time—and James cursed under his breath before leaning close.

“Window,” he whispered urgently, eyes dark and serious.

Your stomach flipped. “What?!”

“Go out through the window,” he hissed, already reaching to straighten his belt and smooth his hair with a hand.

You stared at him like he’d lost his damn mind. “James—are you serious? What if someone sees me?!”

He grabbed your arm and pulled you toward the window as you tried to fix your shirt. “I don’t know—be careful,” he urged, his voice a fierce whisper as another knock sounded.

“Oh my god,” you whispered back, feeling the adrenaline surge like fire through your veins. “You want me to jump out like a fugitive?!” you squeaked, heart racing, the whole thing so absurd you could hardly believe it.

James shot you a wild look over his shoulder as he moved to intercept whoever was knocking. “That’s exactly what I want,” he muttered. “And don’t break your neck, please.”

You swallowed hard as you crossed the short distance to the window. Thank god this was the ground floor—you only had to swing a leg over the sill and drop a few feet into the grass.

Your hands trembled as you undid the latch, the cool breeze instantly spilling into the room.

“God,” you whispered to yourself, heart thudding as you hitched your skirt up and swung one leg over.

“Careful,” James urged in a rushed whisper.

You slipped outside, crouching as you hit the grass and glanced up at him one last time.

“Don’t get caught,” he mouthed.

Your lips twitched despite the panic as you pulled your jacket tighter around you and hurried along the wall—trying to look as casual as possible—heart pounding, breath shallow, feeling like you’d just pulled off a prison break as you disappeared around the corner.

And up in the classroom, James was finally unlocking the door, already fixing his face into an innocent, professional expression as if nothing at all had just happened.

Your heart was still thudding painfully against your ribs as you hurried across the quad, weaving between scattered groups of students without really seeing any of them. The chilled air didn’t help—your hands were trembling as you dug your keycard out of your pocket and pushed into your dorm building, your face feeling too hot for comfort.

God, that was so fucking close.

Your steps were quicker than usual as you took the stairs two at a time, every sound around you feeling too loud. Every time someone glanced your way in the hallway, your stomach flipped—as if they somehow knew what you’d just been doing, like they’d seen you slip out of that window.

Or worse—like whoever had knocked had heard something before you two had stopped.

Your brain was racing as you reached your door, key sliding into the lock with shaky fingers. What if someone really did see you sneaking out? What if they went back and told someone? What if they connected the dots?

The door clicked open and you stepped into your room, leaning against the wood as you shut it behind you and pressed your palm flat over your pounding heart.

Your thoughts kept circling: who was that outside? Did they wait long enough to hear anything? Could they recognize you if they looked back outside and caught you rounding the corner?

God, you hoped not.

“Are you okay? You look like shit.”

You spun around to see Sarah sitting cross‑legged on her bed with her laptop perched on her knees, eyes narrowed at you like you’d just stumbled in from a war zone.

“Oh—hey,” you managed, breathless as you set your bag down a bit too carefully.

Sarah raised a brow. “Hey? That’s it? You sure you’re okay? You look like you just ran a marathon.”

Your hands went up in a vague shrug as you kicked off your shoes. “Long day,” you offered, hoping your voice didn’t give you away.

“Long day,” she echoed slowly, leaning forward. “And by long day you mean what exactly?”

You avoided her gaze, rubbing at the back of your neck as you tried to keep your face neutral. “Nothing crazy,” you mumbled. “Just… had to deal with some stuff on campus. Took forever.”

“Uh-huh.” Sarah’s suspicion didn’t waver, lips twitching like she wasn’t buying it one bit.

You grabbed your phone and tossed yourself onto your bed, face buried in a pillow to hide the heat creeping up your neck. The ghost of his hands on you still tingled across your skin, and you couldn’t stop replaying the frantic moment over and over again—the knock at the door, the sound of someone calling his name, the two of you freezing like deer in headlights.

Your phone buzzed against the sheets, yanking you back to the present. Heart skipping, you rolled over and grabbed it.

James | 3:21PM

God, that was close.

Your heart gave a painful thud.

You | 3:21PM

Yeah. No shit.

A moment passed before another message came through.

James | 3:21PM

You okay?

You stared at the question for a long second, lips pressed together. Were you okay? Almost getting caught like that had scared the hell out of you—your hands were still a little shaky.

You | 3:22PM

More or less. That scared the crap out of me. Pretty sure I aged ten years.

His reply was almost instant.

James | 3:22PM

Me too.

That one admission hit you hard—especially coming from him. Calm, composed, always so sure of himself. Except this time, he was just as shaken as you.

You | 3:22PM

That was too close, James. Way too close.

There was a long pause this time. You could picture him, brow furrowed, running a hand through his hair the way he always did when he was thinking too much.

Finally:

James | 3:24PM

I know.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you searched for the right words. The room felt too quiet, your heart thudding loud in your chest.

You | 3:24PM

What if someone heard? What if they saw me leave?

More typing bubbles appeared and disappeared before his next text.

James | 3:25PM

They didn’t. You’re safe. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

Your stomach twisted—you knew he meant it. But this wasn’t some easy game. One slip, one wrong move, and everything could blow up in both your faces.

You | 3:25PM

That was way too close, though. Too risky.

That message hung in the silence for what felt like forever before his final reply appeared.

James | 3:26PM

I know.

And you could feel the weight behind those two words as if he were right there beside you—knowing that what you had was dangerous and fragile and so damn close to breaking if you weren’t careful.

You let your phone drop onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling, breath shaky, heart still pounding as the reality of what almost happened began to fully sink in.

———

By the next morning, the knot in your stomach still hadn’t disappeared. The entire walk across campus felt surreal—like you were on autopilot, hands tucked into your pockets, your thoughts still spinning wildly around yesterday.

And him.

Theo kept up a steady pace beside you, backpack slung over one shoulder, humming something under his breath. But you barely heard him. Every little detail from yesterday—the rush of hands and lips, the sudden knock at the door—was on repeat in your mind like a song you couldn’t shut off.

“You okay?” Theo’s voice cut in gently, making you blink.

You glanced at him. “Yeah, yeah,” you answered a bit too quickly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite feel real.

He didn’t look convinced but let it slide as you crossed into the lecture hall together. Students were already filing into their seats, the usual hum of conversation filling the room.

And then you felt it—that magnetic pull.

Your eyes drifted up to the front of the classroom where James was leaning against his desk, hands gripping the edges casually, gaze scanning the room as if nothing had happened yesterday. Nothing at all.

But when his eyes found you, the smallest flicker crossed his face—so fast it was barely there.

Your heart thudded in your chest.

Theo followed your gaze without thinking and then glanced back at you, his brow furrowing ever so slightly.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, lower this time.

You swallowed and nodded, breaking eye contact with the professor as you pulled out your chair. “I’m fine. Really.”

Theo watched you for a beat longer before shrugging and slipping into the seat next to yours.

He set his backpack down with a quiet thump and began pulling out his notebook, but his gaze kept straying toward the front of the room.

Every so often, almost like clockwork, you glanced up at James—a quick flicker of your eyes that lasted a heartbeat too long before you made yourself look back at your notes again.

Theo didn’t comment.

He sat there, tapping his pen lightly against the edge of his desk, and you were too busy flipping blankly through your notebook to see the way his brow had creased, or the way his mouth had pressed into a thin, thoughtful line.

Out of the corner of his eye, he kept watching you—the subtle way your shoulders tensed when James spoke, the way you held your breath when those sharp blue eyes scanned the classroom, and how you immediately seemed to exhale when they moved on.

He noticed the tiny things you probably thought you were disguising.

Your hands fidgeting in your lap when the professor walked past your row. The way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear even though it wasn’t in your face. The faint color high on your cheeks that didn’t match the chilly morning outside.

And most of all, that careful, too-casual way you weren’t looking at him.

Theo didn’t say a word—not then, not as the professor started his lecture in that same measured voice that filled the hall, nor as you stared straight ahead like you were giving the class your full attention.

But Theo’s gaze kept returning to you.

The puzzle pieces were starting to fit together in his head, slowly and quietly.

And you had no idea at all.

You were too caught up in the lingering buzz under your skin, in the way yesterday kept playing over and over in your mind—hands and lips and whispered warnings you probably still felt against your neck—to notice the way Theo was studying you like someone trying to read between the lines.

He never broke the silence. Never asked the obvious questions that had started to form at the back of his mind.

He just sat there, listening to the scrape of his pen on his notebook and the professor’s deep voice as it filled the room—and kept his thoughts to himself.

The professor’s voice cut through the din of the crowded lecture hall one last time—“That’ll be all for today”—and just like that, the spell was broken. The usual shuffle of students packing up, murmuring to each other, and dragging their feet toward the door filled the air.

You took your time, hands moving slowly as you tucked your pen into your notebook, feeling strangely detached. The faint scratch of your zipper was louder than you expected as you closed up your bag, pulse a little too fast for such an ordinary moment.

When you finally glanced up, Theo was already watching you—leaning casually against his chair, one brow arched ever so slightly.

“What?” you asked, trying to sound more breezy than you felt.

His mouth curved into a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Nothing,” he replied, voice light. Too light.

That one word hung there between you, deceptively simple, and something about his steady gaze made you suddenly feel like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t have.

Your eyes flicked toward the front of the room before you could stop yourself.

James was leaning against his desk in that effortless way of his, hands braced against the edge as a couple of students clustered around him with questions. Even from this distance you could see the sharp cut of his jaw and the faint smile that tugged at his lips as he spoke.

Your chest tightened just looking at him.

And when you dragged your gaze back to Theo, his brow had twitched—just a tiny shift. He held your gaze for a beat too long then glanced toward James, then back at you. “You wanna go up there and ask him something again?”

Your stomach flipped.

There was nothing accusing in his voice. In fact, if someone overheard, they’d probably just assume he was offering to wait while you clarified an assignment. But under that casual tone, there was an unspoken weight, an observation threaded between every word.

Your lips parted, then pressed together, a faint flush prickling up your neck.

“No,” you answered, forcing a lightness you didn’t feel as you hitched your bag higher onto your shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“Alright,” Theo said simply.

He fell into step beside you as you moved toward the exit, hands in his pockets, gaze straight ahead—unbothered, at least on the surface.

And as the door swung shut behind you, you felt the weight of his quiet scrutiny lingering, sharp and discerning. Whether or not he had you figured out completely, one thing was clear: Theo wasn’t as oblivious as he let on.

The hall was busier now, students spilling out of classrooms, voices bouncing off the high ceilings as everyone shuffled toward their next lectures. Theo matched your pace easily, hands stuffed into his pockets, his stride loose and comfortable like nothing was on his mind.

“You really pay attention in his lectures,” Theo commented casually, his tone light—almost offhand—as if he were making small talk.

Your heart skipped, hands tightening around your bag strap. “I do?” you shot back, forcing a little laugh as you kept your eyes fixed straight ahead.

“Mm-hm,” Theo mused, that easy little hum of his making it impossible to tell what he was thinking. “Every time Barnes looks your way, you seem to straighten up like you’re about to be quizzed.”

Your stomach fluttered nervously. Every time? You glanced at him from the corner of your eye but Theo was just strolling along like this was nothing, like he hadn’t noticed more than he was letting on.

“I mean, he’s a good lecturer,” you replied carefully, trying to sound breezy. “Makes it easier to focus.”

“Easier to focus,” Theo echoed, his lips quirking. “That’s one way to put it.”

You felt heat crawl up the back of your neck and shifted your bag higher onto your shoulder. God, had you been that obvious?

“You seem to like him,” Theo continued, his gaze fixed ahead as the two of you maneuvered around a group of students huddled outside a classroom.

“Don’t most people like him?” you asked, maybe a bit too quickly.

Theo only gave a small shrug. “Some people do. Some people don’t. You, though…” His voice trailed off just long enough to make you look at him.

He was watching you then, one brow raised ever so slightly, eyes thoughtful—not accusing, not teasing. Just… curious.

“You look at him different,” he said finally, voice pitched so low it was almost lost beneath the hum of nearby conversations.

Your heart thudded hard at that, hands curling into fists around the strap of your bag.

“I do?” you replied softly, hating that your voice sounded smaller than you intended.

Theo’s gaze lingered on your face for a breath before the corner of his mouth lifted in a gentle smile. “Hey, I’m just saying,” he added lightly, as if he hadn’t just peeled back a layer you’d been carefully guarding. “He’s kind of… intense. A little hard to read. Makes sense someone might be drawn to him.”

Your eyes flicked up to his, searching for any sign that he knew more than he was letting on—but Theo only smiled a bit wider before pushing open the door to your next classroom.

The familiar hum of conversation and the scrape of chair legs against the floor greeted you as you followed him inside. It felt strangely loud against the nervous energy still buzzing in your chest.

“You grabbing this one?” Theo asked, jerking his chin toward the back row—your usual spot.

“Yeah,” you replied, forcing a smile as you slipped into the seat.

He slid into the chair next to you, casually dropping his backpack at his feet and pulling his laptop free.

Your hands were already reaching into your own bag for your notebook when your phone vibrated in your pocket—just once, sharp and insistent enough to make your heart jump.

You glanced at the screen under the desk.

James | 9:31AM

Hey, I thought you were gonna stay for a moment after the lecture. Everything okay?

Your stomach flipped.

Of course he’d noticed you hadn’t come up to him—usually you’d catch him before leaving, even if just for a quick word.

Your thumb hovered over the keyboard as you glanced sideways at Theo. He was already logged into his laptop, eyes fixed on his screen, but there was that subtle, knowing curve at the corner of his mouth that made you feel like he was more present than he seemed.

You lowered the phone into your lap and quickly typed back.

You | 9:32AM

Sorry, wanted to but Theo was waiting for me. Didn’t want him to catch on.

You paused before hitting send, heart thudding as you reread it.

The message disappeared with a tiny whoosh.

You stared at your phone for a long second, nerves tangled up as you waited for the typing bubble to appear.

Beside you, Theo shifted in his seat, rubbing a hand through his hair, his gaze fixed on his laptop like he had no interest at all in what you were doing—but every part of you felt hyper-aware of him.

And just as the professor walked in and started the lecture, your phone vibrated again in your palm.

James | 9:33AM

Figured. Don’t worry. We’ll catch up later. Come to my office when you’re done with your lectures, okay? Wanna talk about yesterday.

You bit your lip, a small smile tugging at your mouth even as guilt pricked at you.

That familiar ache settled into your chest as you tucked your phone away and glanced up at the front of the room, forcing yourself to focus on the professor’s voice—all the while feeling the weight of Theo’s unspoken questions and the lingering, secret heat of James’ message under your skin.

———

By the time the last lecture of the day wrapped up, your head was already somewhere else. The professor’s parting words barely registered as you slid your notebook into your bag, hands moving quickly—more quickly than they needed to.

Your phone felt warm in your pocket, that last message from James still lingering in the back of your thoughts like an invitation you couldn’t wait to answer.

“Hey,” Theo’s voice pulled you back as you stood, shrugging your bag onto your shoulder.

You glanced up to see him already waiting for you at the end of the row, hands tucked into his pockets in that easy, casual way he always had.

“Yeah?” you replied, forcing a light smile as you fell into step with him toward the door.

“You free now, right?” he asked, pushing the door open for you and matching your pace as you moved into the hallway. “I was thinking we could grab some lunch—or maybe coffee? My treat,” he added with a shrug.

You paused just long enough to register the offer. Normally, you’d say yes without a second thought—Theo was easy company, someone who never pressed too hard—but right now your chest felt tight with an entirely different kind of anticipation.

“Oh,” you began, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you kept your gaze trained ahead of you, avoiding his eyes. “That’s really nice of you, but, uh… I actually have to take care of something after this.”

“Something?” he echoed, tone light but laced with curiosity as you descended the staircase together.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, hoping it sounded casual. “Nothing serious, just—stuff for a friend.”

And god, even saying it out loud sent a thrill up your spine—one you hoped he couldn’t hear in your voice.

Theo was quiet for a moment as you wove past a couple of students hurrying the other way. Then he nodded, lips twitching into a small, knowing smile as he glanced at you sidelong.

“Ah. Friend… Got it,” he drawled, like he was letting you off the hook. “Guess I’ll catch you next time then.”

“Next time,” you agreed, breath slipping out in a subtle sigh of relief.

But as you kept walking, you felt the weight of his gaze lingering just a moment too long before he finally peeled off toward the courtyard, hands in his pockets, that easy posture never quite fading.

Your heart thudded faster as you kept going—past the familiar halls, past the windows that let in the bright spill of afternoon light—and all you could think about was him.

James.

By the time you reached his classroom, you paused for a breath and glanced around, making sure no one was lingering nearby. Satisfied, you knocked softly and pushed the door open, stepping inside and easing it shut behind you before turning the lock with a quiet click.

He was already watching you, gaze steady and unreadable as you crossed the room.

“You came,” he murmured, and you felt a tiny, breathless smile tug at your lips.

“Of course,” you replied, hands twisting around the strap of your bag before you set it down on one of the front desks. “We didn’t really talk after… yesterday.”

He nodded slowly, rubbing a palm over the back of his neck as if there was a tension there he hadn’t shaken.

“About that,” he began, voice pitched lower now—serious in a way that made your stomach flip. “That was close. Too close.”

Your mouth went dry as you glanced up at him, remembering the knock on the door, the way his hand had clamped over your mouth…

“God,” you breathed, heart skipping, “I thought we were screwed.”

James’ eyes darkened, hands braced on the edge of his desk as he studied you. “It was one of the other professors,” he explained. “Looking for me. Nothing more—and I don’t think she heard anything.”

That knot in your chest loosened a fraction at his words, but the unease still coiled there.

“You sure?” you asked quietly.

He held your gaze for a moment before answering. “I’m sure,” he said, but then his brow furrowed, and there was a flash of something rawer in his eyes—something like guilt. “Still, it was too fucking close.”

Your fingers traced the smooth grain of the desk as you listened, lips pressing together. “Yeah,” you agreed softly. “Way too close.”

James exhaled, pushing off the desk and stepping toward you until there was hardly a breath between you. His hands rose—gentle this time—to cup your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones like he was grounding himself.

“If something had happened,” he began, his voice a hushed rasp, “if someone had walked in and seen…”

Your heart thudded harder at the thought, breath catching as you looked up into his gaze.

“James,” you whispered, hands lifting to circle his wrists, “nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened,” he echoed, leaning his forehead to yours, his warm breath feathering across your lips. “But if it had—if someone had heard or seen you—I don’t…” His jaw tensed as the words trailed off, leaving the thought hanging between you, thick and unspoken.

Your chest ached with a strange mix of affection and fear, and you swallowed past the lump in your throat. “I know,” you murmured, the tension trembling in your voice. “And I hate that we have to worry about this.”

For a long moment, neither of you moved—he just held you like you were something fragile, like if he let go, the world might come crashing in.

“You don’t deserve this,” he said finally, his hands trembling ever so slightly against your skin. “Any of it. I hate that I put you in this position.”

Your hands slid up his chest to his shoulders, holding him just as tightly. “Hey,” you whispered, voice fierce despite the softness of the moment, “you didn’t put me anywhere. I chose this. I chose you.”

That broke him.

James’ eyes searched yours like he couldn’t quite believe you—like he needed to feel it in his hands, taste it on your lips to make sure it was real. “And I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he breathed, voice strained with honesty. “God, if anything ever did because of me…”

You reached up and threaded your fingers into the short hair at the nape of his neck, tugging him closer until your lips brushed his. “Nothing will,” you murmured, kissing him gently, lingeringly—hoping he felt every bit of the trust you felt for him.

And when he kissed you back—slow and aching and careful—you felt it too. The weight of his fear, his devotion. The fragile, secret thing you were both holding onto with everything you had.

Your hands stayed tangled in his hair as you pulled back just enough to look at him, really look at him—at the faint crease between his brows, the way his mouth was set in that tense, guarded line you’d come to recognize when something was weighing him down.

“James,” you whispered, voice trembling with the weight of everything swirling in your chest. “I love you. Do you hear me? I love you so much. You’re the only thing that matters to me.”

That admission was raw and naked—and you felt it in your ribs, in your bones, like a trembling thread pulling you toward him no matter what.

But instead of melting into your words like you hoped, he closed his eyes and gave the slightest, aching shake of his head.

“Don’t say that,” he breathed, his hands tightening on your face as though he needed the contact to stay upright. “You deserve so much better than this—better than sneaking around, better than worrying every second if someone’s going to walk in.”

Your heart squeezed painfully at the way his voice broke around the edges.

“James,” you urged, hands smoothing down from his neck to cradle his face, thumbs brushing along the sharp curve of his cheekbones. “Stop. Please.”

But he didn’t stop.

“You deserve someone who can kiss you in the middle of the street,” he went on, his gaze flicking away like he couldn’t bear to look at you as he spoke. “Someone who can take you to dinner, who can introduce you without fearing they’ll lose everything—without fearing they’ll drag you into the fire too.”

That was what this was, you realized in that instant—it wasn’t just worry for himself or even the secret you’d been keeping together. It was guilt.

He thought he was ruining you just by loving you.

Your throat tightened, eyes stinging as you watched him wrestle with it—all the quiet, relentless weight he carried just to have you in his life.

“James,” you said again, softer this time, forcing him to look at you as you smoothed your hands along his jaw. “I don’t care about any of that. None of it. None of the things you think I deserve—none of that matters to me if it means I don’t have you.”

His blue eyes searched yours, pain flickering across his face—like part of him still tried to believe you but the other part was too scared to.

“You don’t see what this is,” he murmured, hands trembling faintly as they held you. “What it could do to you if it ever went wrong.”

You did. And you hated it. Hated that this was where you’d ended up—tangled together in the shadows of his empty classroom with fear nipping at your heels, when all you wanted was him.

When all you ever wanted was him.

“I see you,” you told him fiercely, leaning in so close that your lips nearly brushed his. “And I see everything that could go wrong. But I also see you every time you touch me like this—like I’m all that you’ll ever need—and I swear to God, that’s enough for me.”

James’ brow furrowed deeper at your words, his breath hitching as he listened, and you felt his hands flex against your skin like he was holding on by a thread.

“You are enough,” you whispered. “More than enough. And I’d take this—take you—every single time.”

For a long moment, he was utterly still, his eyes locked on yours as though he was looking for any sign of hesitation, any flicker of doubt—and when he didn’t find it, when all he saw was you looking at him like he was the only person in the world, something in him finally gave.

His hands slid back into your hair, tugging you close, his mouth crashing into yours with a low, aching sound you felt all the way to your heart.

And you kissed him back, hands fisting into the fabric of his shirt, holding him like you never wanted to let him go—like you’d take every shadow, every risk, as long as you could keep this one, fleeting thing that mattered most.

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, hands still trembling against his chest as you held his gaze.

“I really mean it, James,” you whispered, voice thick with all the feelings crowding your heart. “I want you. Always and forever. I love you and I don’t care about anything else.”

The way he looked at you then—like he was terrified you’d change your mind—made your chest ache. His hands were still tangled in your hair, thumbs stroking the side of your face so carefully you felt it all the way to your fingertips.

“You have no idea,” you continued, breathless but steady, “I’d do anything to make this easier. God, maybe I could transfer. Or drop this whole thing and just—”

He cut you off before you could even finish, a sharp breath leaving him as he shook his head, eyes dark with something that looked too much like fear.

“God, no,” he murmured fiercely, leaning in so close his forehead brushed yours. “Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you even think it.”

You blinked up at him, heart thudding hard in your chest as you felt his hands tighten against you.

“You’re so fucking talented,” he went on, his voice hushed but so full of intensity that it sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re brilliant. Don’t ever throw that away for me.”

And there it was—all the weight he’d been carrying, every ounce of guilt that kept him up at night. You saw it all in the way his brow furrowed and his mouth pressed into a tense line, like it physically pained him to even imagine you giving up your future for him.

“You’re going to do amazing things,” he whispered, thumb grazing along your cheekbone like he could memorize the feel of you. “And I’m not going to be the reason you lose that.”

Your heart twisted at his words—because god, didn’t he see? Didn’t he know that none of those things mattered if you couldn’t have this too?

“You don’t understand,” you whispered back, hands gripping the front of his shirt as though you were scared he might disappear. “None of that feels real without you in it.”

He held your gaze, something raw and aching flickering in his eyes as he searched your face like he was trying to memorize every detail.

And then, so softly you almost missed it, “That’s exactly why I can’t let you.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment you could only stare at him—feeling that bittersweet swell of love and sadness all tangled together.

“You mean that much to me,” he added, hands trembling just slightly as they framed your face. “More than anything. Even if it means I have to wait. Even if it means I have to watch you chase every dream you ever wanted first.”

Your eyes burned, hands fisting tighter into his shirt like you could will him to understand—but he already did.

And when he bent his head to kiss you again, so gentle and so careful like you were something priceless, you felt it in every inch of your soul.

That no matter what happened—no matter where this all led—James would put you first. Always.

He rested his forehead against yours for a long, aching moment, breath fanning gently over your lips like he was trying to find the right words. When they finally came, his voice was quieter—softer—but trembling with the weight of them.

“Maybe…” he began carefully, hands still cradling your face like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held. “Maybe we need to slow this down.”

Your heart stalled, a strange cold blooming in your chest as you searched his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

James exhaled slowly, thumb brushing your cheek as though he could soothe you with that one small touch. “I mean—we need to take a step back,” he murmured. “Not because I want to, god knows I don’t. But you deserve to focus on your future without worrying about someone finding out. About me ruining this for you.”

The words hit you like a chill. Slowing down was the last thing you wanted. Every time you were apart, it felt like you were holding your breath until you could see him again. Every stolen kiss and whispered conversation had felt like lifelines—not distractions.

You stared up at him, hands trembling at your sides. “James…”

He kissed your temple so gently you almost broke. “I just want to do this the right way,” he continued, voice low, threaded with guilt and fierce, protective care. “And god, I hate the idea of making you feel scared or trapped. You mean too much to me to ever risk that.”

Your eyes burned as you looked at him, heart aching with a kind of impossible softness. The way he was looking at you—as if your happiness mattered more to him than his own—it took all the air from your lungs.

And even though every part of you screamed that you never wanted to slow this down, that you didn’t care about the risk, you could see what this was costing him too.

“You really mean that,” you whispered, more to yourself than anything.

He nodded, pressing his forehead back to yours like it was painful to hold back. “I do.”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt like you couldn’t help yourself. “I hate it,” you confessed softly. “I hate the thought of not seeing you as much, of not—”

Your voice broke, and he held you closer, hands rubbing up and down your back like he wished he could take it all away.

“Me too,” he breathed, voice rough. “More than you know.”

And you believed him—you could feel it in the way his arms stayed wrapped around you like he never wanted to let go, in the way he held his breath when you finally whispered:

“Okay.”

That single word felt heavier than anything you’d ever said, but you knew it was what he needed to hear. Even if it shattered a part of you inside.

James’ hands flexed against you, lips brushing your hair like a quiet thank you. “You’re so fucking brave,” he whispered. “And I promise you, sweetheart, this is not forever.”

You closed your eyes and pressed your face into his chest, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat ground you as you nodded.

“Okay,” you breathed again—softer this time, like you were trying to believe it too.

“You should go,” he said again, this time softer, hands slipping reluctantly from your waist as though his touch was already a memory. “Before anyone sees.”

Your stomach dropped at the sound of it—so final, so careful—like a door swinging shut that neither of you wanted to close.

For a moment, you just stared at him, lips parted, a hundred things you wanted to say swirling in your chest. But the knot in your throat was already making it hard to breathe, and his gaze—that gentle, tired sadness in his eyes—told you more than words ever could.

“Fine,” you finally managed, voice trembling as you forced a shaky smile you didn’t feel.

He held your gaze like he might reach for you again, hands flexing at his sides, the muscle in his jaw ticking like this was hurting him too.

And god, it was.

You slipped your bag over your shoulder, every movement slow and aching, like you could stretch this last fragile moment forever if you took your time. But then James gave you a small nod—the kind that left no room for argument—and you knew you had to go.

“See you,” you whispered, stepping backward toward the door, hands trembling against the cold knob as you forced yourself to turn away.

The hallway felt too bright, too loud, like stepping into a different world.

Your fingers dug into your bag’s strap as you moved on autopilot, one foot in front of the other. Every sound around you—the scrape of lockers, distant laughter, someone pushing past—felt muted beneath the dizzy hum of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

By the time you made it outside into the crisp air, you were trembling—shoulders hunching instinctively as if to hide.

God, you hated this part—hated leaving him, hated how much it already hurt.

Your breath hitched, the ache you’d been holding back burning its way up your throat until it was impossible to breathe around it.

You kept your eyes fixed on the path in front of you as you hurried across campus, head down, vision going glassy with tears.

Every step back toward your dorm felt heavier, your chest tighter, like something fragile and vital had been left behind in that classroom—wrapped up in him and his hands and his voice.

And god, you felt so empty without it.

By the time you reached the dorm building, you couldn’t fight it anymore.

You paused halfway up the staircase, leaning into the wall, palm pressed to your face as a shaky breath broke loose—then another—until a choked sob slipped out before you could stop it.

Tears pricked hotly at your eyes as you pressed your forehead against the cool wall and fought to catch your breath, trembling with every ragged inhale.

And all you could do was stand there for a long, aching moment, hands trembling against your damp cheeks, knowing that walking away hadn’t made anything easier—it had only left you feeling raw and hollow in a way that scared you.

When you finally made it back to your room, your hands were trembling so hard you fumbled with your key in the lock. Every breath felt too short, your chest too tight, and you didn’t even realize there were tears on your face until you caught a glimpse of yourself in the tiny mirror by the door—eyes red-rimmed, lips trembling, shoulders tense.

When you pushed the door open, Sarah was sitting cross-legged on her bed, flipping through some notes, humming under her breath—but the second her gaze lifted and took you in, her expression changed completely.

“Oh my god,” she was on her feet in an instant, crossing the space between you in two quick steps. “Hey—hey, wait—what happened? Are you okay?”

You could barely choke back a breath as she reached for you, her hands gentle but firm on your arms like she was scared you’d collapse. And maybe you would have.

Your lip quivered, chin trembling as you just shook your head, trying to hold it together. But the dam you’d been trying so hard to patch up all the way back was breaking, faster and faster, and you didn’t have the strength left to stop it.

“I…” you managed, voice wrecked and shaky before you broke off entirely.

Sarah pulled you into her arms without another word, wrapping you up so tight you could feel her heartbeat against your cheek. That’s when you really broke—a jagged, aching sob tearing up your throat as you buried your face against her shoulder.

“Hey, shhh,” she murmured into your hair, her hands rubbing slow circles on your back. “I’m here. I’m here. Whatever happened, I’ve got you, okay?”

You clung to her like a lifeline, shoulders trembling with each uneven breath, hands bunched into the back of her shirt as if she were the only solid thing left.

“I’ve fucked up,” you choked out after a few breaths, voice raw and shaky. “Sarah, I’ve fucked up so bad. I got into such a fucking mess.”

“Hey, hey,” she pulled back just enough to look at you, hands cupping your face gently so you had to meet her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

Your lips parted, the words right there—all the tangled, messy feelings you’d been carrying for what felt like forever. The secret. Him. The way you loved him so much it scared you, and the way it had all started to feel like a house of cards just waiting for the smallest breeze to knock it all down.

But you couldn’t say it. You weren’t sure you even could if you tried.

Instead, you just shook your head again, eyes stinging as more tears threatened to spill. “I can’t,” you whispered, the words cracking. “God, I can’t even tell you. It’s just—it’s too much.”

Her brow furrowed, worry etched across her face, but she didn’t push. Didn’t pry. Just gathered you up again without hesitation, one hand smoothing the back of your hair as you clung to her like you might disappear otherwise.

“It’s okay,” Sarah murmured against your temple, voice soft and sure. “I’m here. Whatever it is, you can tell me—I’m here.”

And you felt it in the way she held you—steady and warm, her presence solid enough to lean into when everything else was spinning out of control.

Part 7 soon 💋

tags (tysm for all the love and support, If you asked to be tagged and I didn’t tag you it means I couldn’t for some reason 💔): @iamthatonefangirl @hiraethmae @im-feeling-blue-today @beforemdnight @just4w3irdo @bloodmocha @lovinqbella @its-in-the-woods @muchwita @iyskgd @harrietandcats @shortandb1tchy @luv4kook @grovelingmen @buckybarneswife125 @xamapolax @glitterspark @azrielsgirll @mortallydistinguishedwolf @shaheea @simp4f1 @voidanima @buckytakethewheel @thatsbucknasty @herejustforbuckybarnes @sebastians-love @wntersoidiertk @emcharra @user911224 @stell404 @peanutbutt3rcup @heymydearheart @s-sh-ne

#barnesonly #marvel #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #writing #mcu #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #lust #professor!bucky barnes #professor!bucky #au #au fanfic #bucky barnes smut #smut #bucky barnes angst #angst

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daryltwdixon · 1 day ago

Text

chapter 10

series masterlist Summary: In the time between when he took you to now, something changed. His hands grew gentler. Your fear turned quiet. And somewhere in the stillness, love kindled. || angst & fluff, violence, blood and gore, main character death, animal death (im so sorry), Pre-Boston QZ, Stockholm Syndrome, slow burn, raider!joel, captor!joel, homestead, kidnapping, dark themes, I also just learned what whump means so we're including that too || a/n: this is unlike anything i've ever written, and this is the scene the entire story was written around. please heed the warnings as this is a very heavy chapter. sorry to those who wanted to see joel kicking ass, he does it but you can't see bc im so bad at writing action lol / yes the formatting is intentional. yes i know it hurts. please be kind in your comments, I'm just a baby

It all happened very fast.

And yet it felt like it was all in some horrible, mind altering slow motion.

The handlers at the edge of the clearing let go of their leashed infected like hellhounds surging forward, screams and snarls excited by the sudden noise. They ran into the clearing as gunfire cracked through the trees. Your vision didn’t catch up with it all until Joel moved, turning on the spot and shoving you hard toward the porch, yelling for you to Run!

You stumbled up the steps, heart jackhammering, the world turning into sound and chaos behind you. You crossed the threshold, barely turning the knob with your sweat slicked hands, and were halfway through the door when you felt something rushing past you in a big, furry blur—

Samson.

He shot around your legs with a burst of movement, all muscle and fury, teeth bared as he tore toward the sound of Joel’s voice, toward the chaos.

“No, Samson!” you cried, reaching too late.

The dog vanished into the fray just as the door slammed behind you, Joel still outside. You could hear the crack of his revolver now that he’d reached the porch steps, but there was no time to dwell. He told you to hide, to get into one of the rooms, to lock it behind you.

And so you did– you turned and ran, nearly tripping as you flew through the house, ducking into the first bedroom and throwing the lock shut behind you. Your breath came too fast, too thin, lungs barely working as you collapsed to the floor and backed up, feet sliding across the floor until your spine hit the old radiator.

You sat against it gasping. Hands fumbling, you reached for the knife in your pocket, flipping it open with a trembling thumb. You stared at the blade, its cold, familiar edge waiting for the threats that screamed outside the house.

Your heart slammed into your ribs like it was trying to punch its way out. You stayed locked in that room, pressed to cold iron at your back, while Joel fought outside. While Samson tore across the dirt, brave and loyal and so, so stupid.

And you—what were you? You felt like a child hiding beneath the covers, a coward with a blade she barely knew how to hold. You told yourself you’d be ready, that you’d be strong when it mattered. But now that it was here, you were trembling alone, praying as if that alone might be enough.

You sat there with the knife clutched in your fist, pressed so tight your fingers had gone numb. The room felt like it was shrinking, the edges blurring, and the only thing keeping you grounded the rhythmic pound of your own heartbeat slamming against your ribs. The radiator dug into your spine, but you didn’t move. Your mind wouldn’t let you.

And after a while of only being able to hear your own blood roaring in your ears, you realized the chaos outside had gone quiet.

No more shouting. No more gunfire. Just a hollow, buzzing silence. Your ears strained, clinging to any sound, but all you could hear was the rasp of your own breath and the thud of your pulse in your neck.

Maybe it was over. Maybe Joel had driven them off. Maybe he’d already be climbing the porch steps, bloody but alive, Samson at his side, ready to take you into his arms and tell you it was done.

Please, you thought. Please let it be done.

Then came the sound of shattering glass.

You flinched hard, knife jerking in your grip, nearly falling from your grasp, but you kept it tight. Somewhere outside the door, a window had broken, the sickening crunch of splinters and shards spraying across wood. You could hear footsteps, but— no, not quite footsteps. A scraping sort of noise, a slapping of feet, wet and off-rhythm, stumbling too fast, like something wearing a human body but not quite knowing how to use it. You got up, slowly crawling to the door, and pressed your ear to the wood.

You could hear the ragged breaths, those waterlogged lungs breathing in the air of the house. It was a low, starved, inhuman rattling of breath.

Your blood froze.

No. No, no, no, no—

But then, there was more. A padding of movement suddenly on the glass, the infected screaming at the sound of it, and a snarl matched it, loud enough to travel through the door and shake the walls of your heart. And you knew. Knew who it was. Samson’s bark echoed through the house, sharp and feral. He was after it. That sweet, dumb, brave boy had gone after the infected. You heard his claws scraping against the floor, the snarl in his throat, the heavy thump of his body throwing itself toward the thing that dared to trespass into your home.

Samson’s voice, if a dog could even have one, went raw and ragged, erupting into a series of snarls and screams so violent they didn’t even sound like him anymore. And as you pressed your ear harder to the wooden door, the sound of him rattled around your skull like a loose train over rusted tracks. You felt it in your bones, could hear the wet thud of bodies hitting wood, the skitter of claws trying to find purchase on the floor.

But worse than that, worse than a dog fighting for its life, fighting for your life is that high, shrill, gut-wrenching cry that cuts clean through the noise and leaves silence in its wake. It shattered you—froze your lungs mid breath.

And suddenly, when your lungs filled again, it wasn't with air, but with cold, burning dry ice fury. You realized you didn’t care that you could die, that if you opened the door, there was a strong possibility of a nightmare on the other side.

You ripped the door open, slamming it on its hinges. The creature turned unnaturally fast, all instinct and no humanity. As soon as it saw you it lunged, and its body collided with yours so fast it knocked the air from your chest. It was heavier than it looked, wiry and wrong, all muscle and hungry hungry hungry. Its hands clawed at your shoulders, jaws snapping inches from your face, bloodied teeth gnashing as it screamed that shrill, inhuman sound right into your skin.

You hit the wood floor hard, but the pain didn’t matter. All you could feel was that earth-shattering vehemence—the kind that made your blood churn and your vision blur. A scorching ice storm tore through your veins, wild and merciless, for your dog, for your home, for this sacred little life you had carved from the dirt with blood and sweat and aching hope. Anger for Joel, who had fought tooth and bone to keep you safe. And as the infected’s face loomed closer, snarling, breath rank with rot and death, all you could think of was him. Joel. Your Joel. The man who thought he was no good, who still stood between you and the fire, who was out there now, doing just that. You hoped he was still breathing. You prayed. And as you prayed for his life, you screamed and sobbed and thrashed beneath the weight of that thing, your hands searching with desperation. One found its jaw and shoved, just enough to shift its balance, just enough to move. The other rose like instinct, like fury given form, and drove your blade up through its mouth, straight into the soft ruin of its brain.

It collapsed on top of you all at once, heavy and lifeless, and still your sobs came wracking, splintering through your ribs, aching deep in your chest. You shoved it off with trembling arms, gasping as you scrambled backward, until your spine met the cold, comforting iron of the radiator once again. You pressed against it like it could hold you steady, like it could anchor you to something that still felt like home.

By the time your breathing began to steady, your body came alive with reality. You ached in places you hadn’t even felt the impact. Your skin prickled with heat and cold in turns, a clammy sheen sticking to your neck and chest. A buzzing sensation crept through your limbs, like your nerves were trying to fire all at once. Just the adrenaline wearing off, the shock.

But as you waited there and the silence thickened, your heart began to beat harder again, not with panic now, but with fear. Real fear. The kind that settled into your bones, the kind that felt like knowing. Where was Joel?

As if your prayers were suddenly answered, you heard the front door open, accompanied by low and steady footsteps padding through the front room. But then, that instinctual part of you that was responsible for keeping you alive shot a flare of panic through you. You clutched the blade tighter, heart thudding like a war drum in your throat. What if they had found you? What if they’d killed Joel and they were coming to finish you off now?

The footsteps were slow and uneven, floorboards creaking under their weight as they got closer. There was no voice, no words, just the echo of boots and the soft drag of an undeniable limp.

You saw the shadow looming closer to the doorway before his familiar, big, rough hand pushed the door wider and stepped through. He was looking down at the body on the floor, the blood that was pooling around it, before looking up at you.

Joel.

His shoulders filled the frame, blood smeared all over him as his face was drawn pale and utterly familiar. He held his hand against his side, cuts all down his face and neck from the fight. For one fleeting breath, your soul unclenched. He was alive.

But then he stepped forward, and your breath caught like a fishhook in your chest. Your spine went stiff.

“Stop,” you gasped, “Don’t— just stay back, don’t come any closer.”

Your hands came up between you like a barrier, shaking but firm, with eyes wide and glassy. His boots halted on the threshold, and for a moment, he looked like he’d been shot. Your pulse skyrocketed again, fear icing your veins and blood rushing to your ears. You couldn’t tell if the light headedness was from being forced to the ground in the attack or the panic that thrummed through you now.

“What—?” he began, stepping forward again, both of his hands reaching, open and supplicating.

“Joel!” you shrieked, scrambling and keeping your hands up, one with the knife still clutched tightly, “I said stay back!”

He stopped cold, breathing hard, and for a moment, something flickered behind his eyes, something more painful than all the cuts and bruises and wounds on his body. You wondered, then, if he remembered the way your voice echoed the same way against the walls when you demanded for him to let you go all those months ago.

How that felt like such a far, far away dream now.

Your chest heaved, skin feeling lit on fire, feeling like it was screaming, wanting to peel away from the inside. The adrenaline was fading, and what was left behind felt like flames in your blood.

“What happened?” he asked, void of softness and gentleness now.

You didn't answer.

Instead, you reached for your shirt, bloody fingers pulling at the collar, and shifted it aside.

His eyes dropped, and all the color drained from his face as he exhaled every ounce of air left in his lungs, “Oh, Christ.”

It was as if his entire demeanor crumbled in front of you. He remained standing, but his face fell into an awful, splintered, painful look of grief, so pure and immediate. Like the pain was so sharp it gutted the breath from him.

You watched, frozen, as he sank to his knees in front of you, looking at the angry, blistering red bite on your shoulder.

“Baby…” he breathed, voice cracking on the word. It nearly shattered you then and there.

“I’m sorry,” your voice broke, lips trembling as tears blurred your vision. You looked at him, at this man who had lost so much, survived despite it all, and fought so hard to feel again, now sat in front of you unraveling.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, a useless whisper, “Is Samson…?”

He closed his eyes, answering only in the way his jaw tightened, his head dropping forward with a silent sigh.

You let out a strangled sob, knees curling into your chest as it hit you all at once. The dog, the bite, the way Joel picked his head up and looked at you like he couldn’t bear to breathe without you.

He began to crawl forward, reaching—

“No!” you cried out, jerking back so violently your shoulder throbbed with pain against the radiator behind you.

“Please,” he said, breath stopping in his lungs, “Don’t do this.”

“Stay back Joel,” you warned again, voice stern and barely holding together, “I mean it.”

But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

He shook his head as if trying to wake from a nightmare, eyes locked on you with that same desperate ache that once made you fall for him,

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you whispered, voice small and broken.

“I don’t care.”

He pushed forward again, steady and unstoppable, like he’d decided if this was it, he’d meet it holding you.

You shoved at his chest as he got close enough, dropping your knife with a clattering to the floor, “No! Joel, stop! I said no—I don’t want to hurt you!”

But he was stronger, always has been. And now his arms wrapped around you, holding you like he’d try to keep you tethered to him, to the world.

You still shoved at his chest fruitlessly, sobbing as he said, “Stop fighting me, please, baby, just—just let me hold you.”

He didn’t flinch against your weak punches, he didn’t move, just held onto you tighter, soothing you with soft whispers, “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

You were shaking, every part of you trembling like your bones wanted to come apart when finally your hands stopped fighting him. Like whatever had sunk its teeth into you was burrowing into the deepest parts. But Joel’s arms never loosened, if anything, they held tighter, his hands splayed across your spine, touch heavy and grounding.

“Please,” you whispered, though you didn’t know what you’re asking for anymore. For him to go. For him to stay. For this to not be real.

But Joel just pressed his lips to your temple, to your hair, to the damp skin at your hairline. Again and again and again. His breath stuttered against your scalp as he kissed you like a prayer, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you through touch alone.

“It’s okay,” he breathes, “It’s okay. I ain’t gon’ leave you.”

You let out another sob, quieter this time. Less wild, the panic still there, coiled tight in your chest, but it dulled beneath the weight of him, his body anchoring yours, his voice soft and sacred.

Your hands gripped the front of his shirt now, no longer pushing, just holding, clutching fabric like a lifeline as your head sank against his chest. His scent wrapped around you, that firesmoke burn, the smell of sun kissed leather and something undeniably him. The most familiar thing in the world.

You cried into him, hiccuping as his hands slid up your back, one cradling your head, the other splayed wide over your spine. He didn’t tell you to stop, to breathe. He just held you, steady and unshaken, as your whole world caved in.

“I’ve got you,” he said again, barely more than a whisper.

You lifted your eyes to his as your sobs slowly began to fade, your breath still stuck in your throat. His hand came to your face, cupping you so gently, so softly you almost started to cry again. Your hand came up in return, fingers red with blood, cupping his face back.

“I’m s–”

He shook his head, cutting you off, “‘Nough of that, please,” he whispered, hazel eyes pained and aged, “This ain’t your fault, baby. I’m sorry I wasn’t here in time. I should’ve…I could’ve…”

It was turn to cut him off, but this time you leaned up, kissing his lips so, so gently.

You pulled away just to meet his eyes again, and they glistened, but no tears fell from them.

“I love you.” you whispered.

His mouth pulled together in another tight frown, chin wobbling, his hand petting your hair over and over like he was trying to soothe the both of you.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” he whispered to you, kissing you back. His mouth was shaking, breathing uneven as his lips molded to yours.

He eventually lifted you off the ground, carrying you with the intent to make your way to the bedroom. But you stopped him suddenly as you came into the main room, your hand finding his chest.

“Will you…” you looked over at the chair, old and worn by the empty hearth, “just one more time.” you whispered.

His hands tightened around you, and he nodded, “Yeah, alright.”

He set you down, not before making sure the moth-eaten blanket was down so your knees were comfortable. He began to bring over the firewood, pushing it into the hearth and getting it lit. The warmth was welcome against your clammy skin, your blood beginning to heat and make your skin rise in goosebumps.

When the fire was lit, he moved to sit behind you, and called to you.

“Come here.” His voice commands. Though it’s…soft. Not cruel, not mean.

Not anymore.

It hasn’t been in a long time.

You move without hesitation, the old floorboards warm beneath your skin as you settle in front of him. The fire in front of you reminds you of everything that’s come before this. The first day, when every snap of the burning wood made you flinch, uncertain and raw. Of each quiet meal shared in the hush of survival, each pot of water boiled for a bath, a kindness, a ritual.

It glows now, steady and golden, casting both of you in ribbons of amber and shadow despite the afternoon sun still reaching through the windows. And for a moment, it feels like time has folded in on itself, like you're still there at the beginning, and somehow at the end all at once.

Joe’s old armchair groans when he shifts, knees spread, a hand already reaching. His fingers are warm and gentle when they gather your hair, undoing your braid. The brush is missing bristles after all this time, its wood worn soft.

He doesn’t speak. Just parts your hair, gently combing through it in slow strokes, smoothing it back from your damp temples as if this were just another morning, not the end of anything.

With each stroke, your body melts more and more. When the brush catches slightly on a knot near the base of your skull, to the side of your neck where your skin throbs and screams, you flinch slightly. Your breath hitches, the pain searing through you. Slowly, he pulls the knot free, keeping your locks away from your shoulder, and you exhale, your eyes locked on the flames.

When he finishes, you don’t move right away. Just sit with him in the hush, the fire casting flickers of gold across your faces. Then, quietly, you turn toward him, not yet reaching, though every part of you aches to.

“Joel,” you say, soft as breath.

He doesn’t answer right away. His eyes are fixed on the fire, like he’s been staring into it for years.

Then he blinks and looks at you with silent reverence.

“You promised me,” you murmur, voice tight with everything you’re afraid to say. “You promised that if—”

“I know.” His voice breaks like a snapped branch. Just those two words, and already it sounds like the weight of them might crush him.

That’s when your hands move. Shaking, you cup his face, thumbs brushing over his thick beard, the roughness of his face. His eyes shut hard, lines deepening across his face as if he’s trying to hold something back. His hands find your hips, pulling you closer until you’re leaning into him, flushed against his chest.

You lean in, resting your forehead to his, and for a beat, neither of you speak. There’s just breathing—yours fast and shallow, his slow and unsteady.

“There’s so much you don’t know,” he whispers, “so much I could’ve shown you. I should’ve taken you away from here when we had the chance, taken you far—”

You kiss his lips gently, only brushing against him to silence his anguish, “Stop,” you whisper, “Everything you’ve done, everything we’ve done…it’s been…I never thought I’d have a life like this Joel.”

He kisses the corner of your mouth, pulling you into him completely, his head tucking into the crook of your neck. After a moment, his hands wrap around you, and he lifts you into his arms.

You curl into him automatically, arms wrapping around his neck as he carries you. Your cheek presses against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as you breathe him in. Sweat, firewood, the faint scent of your soap still lingering in his shirt from the last time he washed it. The smell of home.

He carries you to the bedroom upstairs and lays you down like something sacred, like setting you down too fast might shatter you. The covers rustle around you as he tucks them in tight, one hand smoothing over your arms, your chest, as if he could keep everything from unraveling if he just holds you close enough.

You’re trembling now—harder. Your skin burns, sweat trickling down your temples despite the way your teeth chatter.

He slides in beside you, wrapping his arms around your shaking body, cocooning you in the warmth of him. The way your body interlocks with his, chest to chest, belly to belly, your arms around his waist and his around your shoulders, your head between his jaw and shoulder. It couldn’t be coincidence, could it? You were meant for this. To be here, with him. To be held by him. Like your bodies had always known how to find each other, like they'd been waiting their whole lives to remember.

And for a few minutes, there’s nothing but silence. His heartbeat thuds steady and strong where your palm rests against it, your breath stuttering in your chest.

But then the dizziness starts.

The edges of the room blur. The floor tilts. You shut your eyes tight, trying to force it away, but it doesn’t stop.

Joel feels it and he shifts, hand sliding to your cheek, tilting your face toward his. “Hey. Hey, look at me. What’s wrong?”

You try to speak but your tongue is heavy and throat thick. “I feel…” you breathe, voice shaking as you shake your head, “something’s happening.”

Your eyes flutter open, vision swimming, but he's right there, face close, eyes wide and scared.

“I can feel it,” you whisper.

Joel swallows hard. You can see it in his throat the way his jaw clenches, his hand flexing against your back like he’s bracing for impact.

“You have to,” you say, voice breaking. “Joel, you promised.”

“I–I…” he says, the words stuck in his throat.

“I can’t be one of them. I won’t. I won’t hurt you.” You try to keep your voice steady, but it fractures, your lip wobbling as tears rise fast. “Please.”

He doesn’t respond. Just stares at you, his face lined with pain, his mouth pulled tight like he’s holding in a scream.

“I always wondered,” you whisper, “how much of the person is still in there. In those first moments. When they’re still… runners. The way they sound, Joel…when they’re screaming and crying while tearing into someone. Do you think it’s the real them in there? Watching it all?”

Joel shakes his head slowly, his eyes steady on you, “I don’t know,”

“If I turn… if I see myself hurting you… if I know it’s happening and I can’t stop it—” Your voice cracks and you cover your mouth as a sob punches out of you. “Don’t make me live through that, Joel. Please.”

Tears stream down your cheeks, warm and silent, soaking into the pillow beneath your face. You don’t even feel them anymore. Your whole body is pulsing with heat, the fever blooming beneath your skin like wildfire.

Joel doesn’t speak right away. He just pulls you into him like he’s trying to fuse your bodies together—his arms crushing around you, chest to chest, heart to heart. He buries his face in the curve of your neck, breathing you in like he’s trying to commit it all to memory.

“I won’t let nothin’ happen to you, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick, shaking, lost. “I promise. I promise.” It sounds more like a prayer than a vow. Like he’s begging God for more time, even though you both know it’s run out.

Your body shakes in his arms, but slowly, the violence of your cries dull. His warmth seeps into you again, grounding you for just a few more moments. Just enough to open your eyes and look at him, your lashes heavy, breath shallow.

Your voice is barely more than a whisper when you say it for the second time.

“I love you,” you whisper. “I don’t say it enough. I didn’t tell you how you saved me—how much of my life has been because of you. And I want you to know... even after everything, even now—I’m yours. I’ve always been yours, Joel.”

His throat works, his eyes shining. He nods, just once. Like that’s the most sacred thing he’s ever been told.

“And I’m yours,” he says in return.

You both fall quiet again.

For a moment, there’s peace. Just the rhythm of Joel’s hand on your back. The warmth of his chest against yours. His mouth brushing your forehead, your hairline, the corner of your eye. He kisses you like he’s trying to chase the sickness from your skin, as if he could just hold onto you hard enough, it won’t take you.

Your breath stutters. The heat becomes unbearable—coiling in your stomach, your spine, spreading through your limbs like liquid fire. Your fingers twitch, and at first you barely register it. Just a flicker, a reflex.

But Joel goes still.

You feel the shift in him. His breath catches, his hand falters.

Another twitch. This one stronger as your arm jerks, your leg following. Your muscles pull in ways you’re not asking them to.

No. No, not yet.

You force your eyes open. The room spins and blurs around the edges, but Joel’s face is there, close and stricken. Your vision swims, but you find him. You always do.

“Joel…” you whisper. It comes out garbled, slurred, like your mouth doesn’t quite belong to you anymore. You can’t stop shaking. Your hand fists in his shirt like an anchor, like maybe he can keep you here if you just hold tight enough.

His voice breaks as he leans in, as his hands cradle your face. “I’m here. I’m here, baby. I love you. I love you, I love you—”

Your limbs jerk violently. Your jaw tightens until your teeth grind. Your head lolls forward, then back. A low groan builds in your throat—not yours, not really, but it comes from you all the same.

Still, you feel him. Hands on your face, his lips at your temple.

“I love you,” he’s whispering, again and again, panicked now, broken. “I love you, I love you—”

You try to find him again. Just one more time. Your fingers claw weakly at his shirt, but you can’t see his face anymore. Can’t see anything through the blur and fire and blood pounding in your skull. There’s only heat, only screaming inside your veins.

You don’t hear the whisper of metal against cotton, the shift of weight as he reaches for his knife.

You’re somewhere else in your mind, through the fire and the heat. Lost in the noise, the tearing of your own mind. In the last fragments of what made you you. Like sinking below the surface of a lake in winter—frozen on top, black and endless underneath. Your mind is a room with all the windows shattered, wind howling through the broken panes. You're still there, somewhere in the wreckage, but your body is a distant thing, just meat and memory.

But you can hear him, from somewhere above the frozen ice in your mind. Joel’s voice moves back through the static like warm water through it, slow and thick, muffled at the edges but still his. Still him. It trembles, low and wrecked, but it reaches you, finding some last corner of your mind not yet taken.

“You’re okay. You’re so good. So good, you hear me?”

You think you try to nod. Maybe you do.

“I love you,” he says, as if it’s the last time he’ll ever be allowed to speak it aloud.

“I got you. I got you.”

You want to tell him it’s okay. That you’re not scared anymore. That he made this life feel like something real. That even if it was short, even if it ends here, it was still worth it. Because it was him.

But you can’t. Your lips won’t move.

And his voice starts to drift, the edges blurring like it’s being pulled back into that darkness, that lake.

Then, with a quick pressure to the back of your skull, there was nothing.

No darkness.

No light or sound or warmth.

Nothing.

As if someone pulled the cord to the stars.

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#that house in nebraska #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller angst #joel miller tlou #joel #joel x you #joel x reader #joel miller that house in nebraska #ethel cain #a house in nebraska

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mullermilkshake · 3 days ago

Text

Time constraints

Part 27 <- Part 28-> Part 29

It's time for labour, the twins are coming and nothing is stopping them.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Pregnant!reader Tags - Heavily pregnant reader, Graphic depictions of labour/childbirth, Hospital, Mentions of c-section procedure, Trauma

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

<<< Or back to this fic's Master list. >>>

I have only watched the anime and haven't gotten round to reading the manhwa yet. Please refrain from spoilers.

TAG LIST RE-OPEN (The tag list is back up and open for a little while, if you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! 🤗)

TW - This will contain some very graphic details of labour in childbirth which may be triggering for some, if you do not wish to read it, I will leave a short summary of this chapter at the bottom of this post, thank you all for reading this far and enjoy!!

Don’t freak out.

Don’t fucking freak out.

Your fiancé had lost his memories of you and the twins and now you were pretty sure your water had broken, and he still didn’t remember anything. Fuck- holy fuck, holy fucking- fuck, you were wholeheartdley freaking out, naked and freaking out.

“Okay…” Deep breaths, you ignored the trickling down your leg which pooled on the floor. “Okay. I need to- I need-“

Jinwoo rushed to your side, touching your arm made you flinch. “Tell me what you need. You have a hospital bag or something we need to take, right?”

“Yeah, it’s in the closet- I need a shower.” There was a sudden, dull pain radiating from your back.

Did having sex cause this?

“Okay.” Jinwoo gathered his clothes. “I’ll call the hospital, leave the door open, shout if you need me.”

“Alright.”

The doctor said that when your waters broke, it could be a matter of hours until the twins arrived though not guaranteed. Not long in the grand scheme of things, less than a day and over in a blink.

What if something went wrong? Maybe something would happen to you and Jinwoo ended up being left with two screaming babies all on his own.

You ran the water in the shower, breathing slowly, screwing your eyes shut to try and balance your mind and relax your muscles from tensing too much.

Hot water? No, warm. If it’s too hot, my blood pressure could drop, I might faint and end up having the babies here- what if we were too late to the hospital and I give birth in the car- oh my god.

“Oh my god.”

A quick shower, one to wash your hair and prep yourself before sitting in a stuffy hospital for the week.

Ten minutes tops, hyper aware of the pressure in your back, like mild period cramps that slightly intensified each time they came over like waves. A couple of minutes maybe more apart.

Ten minutes turned into twenty, then over half an hour when Jinwoo came in, knocking behind the mist of foggy heat on the glass.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything? The hospital said to come in when you’re ready, I’ve put everything at the door and there was an oversized t-shirt on top of the bag so I laid it out for you on the bed.”

You just about heard his voice over the shower, his silhouette waiting behind for a response.

“I’m… freaking out.”

Jinwoo didn’t say anything at first, you could see him pacing, wanting to say something. But he never did.

“Can you come in? I want to make sure I got all the soap out of my hair.”

In honesty, you’d rinsed your hair twice and stood under the running water for who knew how long. Despite Jinwoo’s troubles, having him next to you brought you a comfort you craved.

“Sure.” He took his clothes off quickly, opening the door and slipping inside right next to you.

He hesitated before holding your shoulders, rubbing his thumbs over the wet skin where it counted. You accepted a chaste kiss to your temple, grounding you a little when a cramped pulse through your back and stomach.

“Are the bubbles out?”

You looked up at him, already exhausted, knowing the next time you slept properly, you wouldn’t be pregnant anymore. Jinwoo searched your hair, massaging it with his fingertips under the water like there were actual bubbles left over.

“Yeah, they’re all out.”

“Okay-“ You hissed, inhaling a sharp breath and catching you off guard.

“What’s wrong? Is it a contraction?”

Nodding, you breathed it out and turned the shower off. “Yeah, it was sharp, nothing like the ones before that.”

“Let’s get dried, I’ll take you to the hospital-“

You pulled him back before he could open the door. “You’ll stay with me, right? You won’t leave.”

Jinwoo smiled sweetly, like how he did before, like his face was searching for little fragments to piece together.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“What if you need to come back here like Jong-in did, and I have the babies before you get back?”

“I guess I better bring everything I need so I won’t have to leave your side then.”

That sentiment stopped your heart beating any faster, yet the anxiety still remained. “It’s too early, I thought we still had a week, what if something’s wrong?”

Jinwoo handed you your towel, wrapping his own around his waist. He picked up another and scrunched your hair in it softly so that you didn’t break as delicate as you were feeling.

“Lets see what the doctor says before we get riled up, I’m sure there’s a reason.”

A reason, you couldn’t think of any except that you must have done something to agitate it, to aggravate the twins into dipping out because you were just no longer inhabitable. The babies were early, meaning they would need some sort of help when they got here, the doctor said that.

It must have been the sex, it had to be. What if it hurt them or something now that they’ve dropped into position?

Your babies had dropped a few weeks ago, your body’s way of telling you that the they were ready to come at any time.

On the entire way over there, you didn’t speak, calmly breathing away more contractions. And when you weren’t doing that, you pulled apart every reason why you wouldn’t be a good mom.

If you never got your mana back, how would you raise them properly? Jinwoo couldn’t remember your face and every time he looked at you, you knew he was wracking his brain to try and find something to recognise you by. Every glance, every touch, like he was touching someone new for the first time.

He had forgot key moments in the relationship that only you knew and could never get back because you couldn’t experience them for the first time again.

A first kiss, first time, when he cooked for you and you for him when moving into that apartment into the unknown, you both made it a home. You hated that place now, wanting to live anywhere but there. Jinwoo would have loved your old place, one with a little balcony and a beautiful view of the city. Now it was gone.

All gone. Your little piece of privacy, all gone.

Jinwoo informed the receptionist of your arrival, stating your name and pulling up a wheelchair to sit in because your back began aching constantly. Tightness, that’s what you’d describe it as, a tightness around your belly each time a contraction washed over your body. Just plain uncomfortable most of the time, and then a certain pain came with a vengeance and made your teeth grit and you’d hiss like a snake or venomous animal that ought to be left alone.

“Hello!” When the doctor’s high pitched voice and grin entered the room, you couldn’t bear her. “How are you feeling?”

Jinwoo helped you on to the bed after you’d managed your hospital gown on, he never left, and you recognized that stare he’d given the doctor many times before. Now, you knew she meant well enough, but her face was pidsing you off.

“Oh, y’know, just as good as carrying around two babies inside me can feel.”

“I know, it’s a lot to process, but we’ll hopefully have a smooth birth like we did the pregnancy.” The doctor shuffled through some notes on her clipboard. “Now, I see your finalised birth plan says no pain medication, we’ll keep to that?”

“For now, I’m managing alright so far.”

Chances were you’d want medication later. It all depended on what you heard from the other rooms on the delivery ward. One screaming mother in your ears and you assumed it would send you into a state of panic. For now, the halls were mostly silent apart from squeaking hospital shoes and distant, beeping monitors behind other private doors.

Simple enough.

“Are you delivering the baby?” Jinwoo asked, his hand resting on your own as your legs swung off the side of the bed.

“Me? No. I’ll just be going between you two and Hunter Cha, the midwives will be taking care of the delivery. I’ll be assuming more of a matron role today. While I do specialise in pregnancies, I’m more involved in caesarean assisted deliveries and postpartum surgeries.” She smiled and adjusted her lab coat over her new pink scrubs. “I leave the amazing work to the midwives, but I’m on call for any procedures as a last resort, it’s commonplace.”

“Oh, right- yeah of course.” You’d never even entertained the idea of a C-section. Too busy worrying over everything else.

The doctor took your other hand and tried her best to reassure you, Jinwoo’s hand squeezed yours in response. “Please don’t worry about that right now, the midwife will check the babies position, but we already know they been engaged for a little while now, so I don’t think their positions will be an issue. So try not to think about my role today, just focus on yourself… you have a very supportive partner with you.”

She spoke the truth with that. You smiled involuntarily and nodded, watching Jinwoo with adoration even in the shitty times, he pulled through for you.

“Now, the twins are a little earlier than we hoped, but a specialist midwife will be on standby with incubators incase they’re in need of support. It is very common for twins to require longer hospital stays, but it’s okay.”

“We had sex-” It slipped from your mouth faster than you could ever control it. Fucking verbal vomit, coming out with it like you were shamelessly telling your parent. “Could that be-”

“No. There are some outdated methods to hurry labour along, but we could never confirm it. Sometimes babies are just ready to come out early, and yes, there could be complications, but you must remember, it’s pretty cramped in the uterus with one baby let alone two. They’re probably just ready to meet everyone. But we’ll monitor them to be sure, okay?”

“Okay.” It settled your nerves as another contraction rolled through your body.

Jinwoo massaged your shoulders and bridged the gap between you and the doctor. “What about Hae-in? She’s been here longer, shouldn’t you be with her?”

“We still have a little ways to go, I’m heading over to see her now, last time we checked she was over halfway there, so she’ll most probably give birth way before you do, but if you need anything, just call a nurse and they’ll come and get me.”

She sighed wistfully, shaking her head with the most delicate chuckle you’d ever heard from her. “I never would have guessed you two girls would go into labour at the same time! Talk about timing- now, get some rest while you can and my advice is to walk around if applucable, it can help get things moving. Best of luck you two, see you in an hour or so.”

As soon as she left the room, you grabbed onto Jinwoo’s t-shirt and tugged him closer, a sudden doom looming over your head. “Jinwoo, what if she has to cut me open- it was never part of the birth plan I-”

When he embraced you, you eased into him, taking on the smell of his cologne and natural smell that soothed you.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” Brushing your hair from your face he smiled. “Let’s tackle it together, see where it takes us.”

If he was freaking out like you were, he was doing a pretty decent fucking job of hiding it.

“Okay…”

The comfort sat on the shelf longer than you were able to keep it, several hours later, you were in what the midwife called active labour. And it fucking killed. Every movement, each sharp breath as your contractions sort of merged together in one thick contraction. You were struggling.

“I need to use the bathroom-”

“Do you feel you need to push?” The midwife asked, taking your hand to aid you out of bed.

“No- no, I need to pee, I really have to pee.”

Your poor bladder, probably swollen to the size of… well not bladder sized. One of the twins were kicking at it like a fucking football. If you didn't go now, you were sure to wet yourself and piss all over the floor. Not your finest moment, yet with all the gross stuff, Jinwoo never batted an eye.

Yet, the more in pain you got, the quieter he became. After each outburst of fear or panic, that was when you could see his eyes widen.

However, he said nothing to voice his fears, internally processing them and still being available to support you. Each time you overheard Have-in scream and shout during labour, it frightened you, making you jolt and flinch and temporarily forget the pain you were in yourself.

Childbirth was fucking terrifying.

But, peeing was great, sitting down in a different position was even better, it helped you ignore the commotion outside.

“What the fuck is that?!” Struggling to stand with assistance, you backed away like you’d found a spider in there.

The midwife looked into the toilet once you were up and wide eyed at the lump-of-whatever that fell in the toilet, all veiny and globular.

“It’s alright, please don’t panic. It’s your mucus plug, it means things are moving along.”

The thing looked alive, it looked fucking alive. It could have been the overwhelming pain shooting through you or an array of other things, but that thing fucking looked alive.

“Jinwoo… I don’t think I can take this any more.” You were so close to sobbing, inches close to giving up with each second passing and making that C-section look appealing as it could be being cut open.

“We’ll get you something for the pain-” He waved over the nurse. “Can you get her something for the pain now?”

“I’m back!” The doctor came in with a positive grin you wanted to sneer at.

The nurse nodded over to her and said, “She’ll be able to prescribe it for you.”

Relief, perhaps? Any painkillers were deliciously just in reach, anything to take the edge off. “Good, because I need something for the pain- I can’t take this any longer, doctor..”

She pulled out her clipboard and scanned through the pages. “We can, but your birth plan states no pain medication, do you want to wait and-”

“No,” You managed yourself back into bed with Jinwoo’s aid. “I want it now, anything you have. Please.”

“I think maybe we should-

Something snapped in you alarmingly fast, a feral and rabid inducing. “Get me some fucking pain medication, bitch! I’ve just birthed a giant glob in the toilet and was told it’s normal. These kids are gonna split me in two and I’d rather not feel it! Now, if you aren’t gonna be useful, get the fuck out!”

Silence. Indescribable silence.

Then you realised what you just said through the constant wall of pain. “Fuck… I’m sorry-”

“Doctor.” Jinwoo coaxed her over towards the corner of the room where you couldn’t hear anything, far too many machine beeps and heavy breaths to even see clearly.

But you noticed the doctor's expression change from neutral to something out of a horror movie. Eyes wide and mouth wider. She nodded and adjusted herself, clearing her throat and announcing to the room that she’d be back with the medication you wanted.

“She’s getting you anything you need, don’t leave anything out, alright?” Jinwoo turned, watched you like he hadn’t done within the last day and gave you a knowing smile. “Hi, Baby.”

Your pet name. Even in the pain you realised.

“Jinwoo- wait- do you-”

He approached and kissed your forehead, holding you firmly like he hadn’t seen you in weeks. “I’m sorry I went away, I won’t ever leave again, I promise.”

What the hell. Jinwoo remembered all of a sudden with no warning, and he thought it was appropriate in your pain blind mind to apologise right now?

“Wait- wait.” Grasping his shirt made him groan unexpectedly. “You took your time!”

He let you pull him about. “Thanks for waiting for me, I missed you too.”

Sarcasm. But you couldn’t deny it. “I did miss you.”

“And… you love me too, huh?”

Not one minute back to his usual self and already you wanted to throttle him and kiss him all at the same time.

Better late than never.

"I do."

Wiping the damp hair away from your face, he stared at you with the most adoring look he'd ever given you. "Let's have our babies. I'm with you the whole way, properly this time."

No, he came back at the right time.

Part 27 <- Part 28-> Part 29

SUMMARY - Jinwoo and reader go to the hospital, the doctor is indirectly involved with her care and Hae-in's, and is on standby. She tries to keep to reader's birth plan, (which is no meds) Reader is in pain and shouts at her hehe, and then we see Jinwoo put the doctor in her place and we find out that he has his memories back.

Not the best at summaries 🫣 Sorry!

I'm not fully fully happy with how I've done the ending but I'm not sure if it's just me reading over this one like ten times, what do you think?

ANNOUNCEMENT - I'm away all of next week, so no chapters until sometime next week 🫣🫣 sorry! I'll still be writing, I just won't be uploading.

TAG LIST RE-OPEN (The tag list is back up and open for a little while, if you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! 🤗)

Thank you for reading and all of the support on this fic! ❤️ Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated and I appreciate you all! See you next time 🤗

Tag list - @bubera974 @snowy-violet @sky2lar @starrynights23x @kamiliora

@yessirr7 @qmabailor @yihona-san06 @mashiromochi @daiyanomochi

@justatimidcreator @alia-17 @otomegamesforlife @m00n-estelle @towomatos

@stormnightingale @johnnysactualgf @solarisstarrsolomonsbeloved @johnnysactualgf @notleclerc

@minkuro @misakicchi @lovingyeet @soft-dots @gina239

@sabrina-senpai @tsukimoon-chan @afkmylajah @livelaughlovekuni @keiva1000

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work, thank you!

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ukytluvrs · 2 days ago

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hiii i know you said i didn’t need to send u a request but i couldn’t help myself- thoughts on dixon!reader/chris’s sister!reader x george??

where they meet for the first time at chris’s birthday party and it’s a love at first sight kind of thing but also sort of forbidden love cause she’s related to chris…

OFF LIMITS - G.CLARKE

George clarke x dixion!reader

CONTAINS: fluff, smut (if you squint)

SUMMARY: Chris' sister is back in town for his birthday, in where she meets George Clarke for the first time.

AUTHORS NOTE: is this too niche?? never written anything 'smutty' before so I hope this is okay! thank you for requesting, sorry it took so long <3

my requests are open.

CHRIS' FLAT WAS ALREADY PACKED by the time she got there, squeezing through the crowd of people, she scouted her brother amongst them.

"You're here, finally!" Chris grinned, pulling her into a hug.

"Yeah, sorry I'm late - the train ran late." She shouted over the music.

Nodding understandingly, he gently pushes her towards the kitchen, "Go on, get yourself a drink."

She makes her way to the kitchen, pouring herself a drink, when she hears someone's voice from behind her.

"youre Chris' sister, right?"

She turned around. The guy was taller than expected, with messy curls, and that familiar face from Chris' videos. George Clarke. She nodded slowly, caught off guard by how attractive he looked in real life.

"That obvious?"

He shrugged, grinning. "You look alike - you have the same judging face as he does."

She snorts, "That's true, actually"

"I'm George," he introduces, offering his hand.

"I know," she replies quickly.

"Oh?" his grin widened. "Fan?"

She raised her brow, a smirk tugging on her lips "You wish."

He laughed, "fair."

There was a pause, not awkward, just heavy with something else. Intrest? curiosity?

For the rest of the night, the two kept glancing at each other, unable to keep their eyes away and ignore the tension simmering between them.

It wasn't planned. She hadn't meant to follow him into his room, but here they were, his hands in her hair, her mouth on his. It was messy. fast. real. For a second, nothing else existed. just them, not Chris down the hall, not the music or the fact that George was passionately making out with Chris' sister. It was just them.

And it carried on that way for many months, with her frequent visits to "see Chris", but both of them knew it wasn't that (sorry Chris xoxo). There was always an excuse. She'd show up under the guise of catching up, maybe even pretend she was just in the area. And Chris? he never questioned it. I mean, why would he? She was his sister, after all; in fact, Chris liked that he got to see more of her lately. George played along effortlessly, but behind closed doors, it was different. There were quiet glances across the room, brushed hands in hallways, and stolen kisses when no one was looking. Late nights in his room with the door shut, Chris across the hall, oblivious to the fact that George was pressed against her like he couldn't bear to be apart. Some nights, it was innocent. Just talking until the morning sun shone through his bedroom windows, laughing quietly into each other. It never stayed innocent for long, though.

He'd pull her in, his hands slipping under the hem of his her hoodie like it belonged there. lips on her neck, breath hot against her skin, as his other hand made its way to between her thighs.

Sometimes, when her legs wrapped around his waist and his mouth moved against hers like he was trying to memorise every inch of her, he'd pause, just for a second and whisper her name like it was something sacred.

It was messy. addictive. and getting much harder to hide. Because no matter how careful they were, someone was bound to notice. And what were they to do then?

Anyone want a part 2?

#fanfic #sidemen #ukyt #youtube #george clarkey #fluff #george clarke #george clarke x fem!reader #george clarkey x reader #x reader #chris md x reader

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kisses4rafey · 1 day ago

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older!rafe catches you smoking

the sun had barely started to dip, your legs stretched out on the back porch of the beach house, a blunt lazily burning between your fingers. you weren’t even high yet—just chasing that first hit, exhaling slow like the smoke might carry your thoughts somewhere less heavy. you didn’t hear the truck until it was too late.

the screen door creaked. “seriously?”— you froze.

there he was towering in the doorway like some storm cloud in a black t-shirt and salt-worn jeans. his eyes narrowed immediately, jaw tight like he’d been biting his tongue all day and just ran out of patience. “are you actually getting high right now?” he asked, stepping out. the blunt was still smoldering in your hand.

you went to flick it. too slow.

he was already in front of you, snatching it from your fingers like it was poison. “jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head. “you’re really pushing it.”

“it’s not a big deal,” you mumbled, refusing to look at him. and he fucking laughed—humorless. “not a big deal? you’re barely outta high school and you think burning weed on my porch when I’ve got neighbors two houses down who’d love to call your parents is just… casual?” you flinched. the word parents landed too hard. he knew it.

silence stretched between you like the heat coming off the deck boards. “i didn’t think you’d be back so soon,” you muttered.

“oh, that makes it better?” his voice rose, rough and cutting. “you think that makes me less pissed?”

“i’m not a kid—”

“you are a kid,” he snapped. “you’re a kid screwing around with stuff you don’t get to play with—not here, not around me.”

that one hurt. it wasn’t the weed. it was the distance in his voice. the shift. like he was suddenly drawing a line between you again—age, experience, risk. you tried to bite it down. “you’re the one who keeps saying I’m grown enough to be with you. so what is it, rafe? i’m old enough for your bed but too young to smoke a little?”

his jaw clenched. hard. like you’d slapped him.

he stepped closer—too close. you could smell the faint salt of the ocean on his skin, the underlying sting of whatever cologne he always wore when he was pretending not to care.

“you think this is funny?” he asked, voice low now. “you think I’m doing this because I want to control you?” you stared at him, defiant—but your chest was tight. “i don’t want to lose you,” he then proceeded to say in a softer tone. “not to dumb shit like this.”

“you’re not my dad,” you whispered. “you can’t tell me what i can and can’t do”

“no,” he said, still watching you like he was memorizing every expression. “i’m not. but i care about you more than he ever did.” you swallowed hard, throat tight. you hated how his anger cracked just enough to show you where the hurt lived underneath.

then he reached up—gently this time—and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “don’t make me the guy who lets you burn yourself out just to seem cool. i want more for you than that. you hear me?”

you rolled your eyes. “it’s weed, rafe. not heroin. jesus.”

he didn’t laugh.

“you wanna act grown? fine. then be grown enough to take care of yourself. don’t pull this shit and expect me to clean up after you if something goes sideways.”

you blinked. that hit harder than the weed ever could. “i wasn’t expecting anything from you,” you said, quieter now. “i just… i was anxious. and i thought I had time.”

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callsign-swan · 2 days ago

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bob reynolds wasn't a good werewolf.

but, odie, how can he be a bad werewolf?

bob reynolds hasn't changed. he's, what, late twenties? early thirties? and he hasn't changed. even with the full moon, he hasn't changed. it must've been frustrating for his body, to be unable to obey its instincts, to let him become the beast.

there was a lot of things he could blame for his stunted... werewolf-i-ness. but that's a story for another day.

yelena takes it upon herself to train him up. not the kind of training valentina wants him doing, but something she knows would help bob. it must've been so frustrating for him, to be stuck in a human body at all time. it was like she could see it, his wolf clawing to get out.

it took a while, longer than yelena thought. she had to teach herself after the red room, try to teach herself something the red room had tried to suppress. but it was almost like bob himself was trying to suppress it. like, no matter his frustration, he couldn't bring himself to change.

yelena taught him to let go, to let himself change. at first, it was him getting stuck with too big teeth, glowing yellow eyes and claws for nails. pointed ears that seemed furry at the top. but yelena helped him fixed it and got him to try it again.

and again.

until he came the wolf.

she didn't know what she expected when he changed. maybe a simple grey, maybe brown like his hair. but not black, fur so dark he was midnight.

as soon as they changed, yelena took him running. running through the streets of new york under the cover of night. bob kept his nose to the ground, discovering every new smell around him.

his paws were too big for his body, but it looked so right on him.

yelena led him through the backstreets and alleyways. even at 2am, they were staying hidden, staying safe.

but bob caught a sent. he tried to keep following yelena, he really did, but his nose led him away from her.

his nose led him to a back alley. bins on one side, buildings on the other he kept sniffing, trying to find the source of the scent. he couldn't describe it, couldn't work out why it was so enticing. but here he was, sniffing around the bins to try and work it out.

the back door to one of the buildings opened. he shied behind the bin as light flooded the back alley.

even though he was hidden, bob still watched. he watched as you stepped out of the building, black bag in hands. you held it just off the floor, as if it was heavy but you didn't want to drag it. made sense, by the smell of it.

you opened the lid of the big bin, threw it back so that it hit the fence behind it. with a grunt, you lifted the bag and threw it into the bin.

the gross, overwhelming scent was drowned out. by you, bob realised as you shut the lid of the bin.

bob didn't mean to step out as you turned to walk back towards your place of business. (a cafe. the bin stank of food and coffee grounds). but you caught sight of him, out of the corner of your eye.

a gasp left your lips as you stepped away from him. the scent bob was getting from you turned sour with your fear. you backed away from him, shaking hands raised.

in your mind, it was already too late to run. the moment you turned and tried, he would be upon you, teeth ripping into your ankles.

but you caught yourself on your untied laces. your gasp sounded more like a hiccup as you fell back. you barely registered your ass hitting the gravel, shuffling back until you hit the back door of your cafe.

even in such a vulnerable position, the wolf stared at you. fur so damn dark, you only saw his glowing eyes at first. he continued to watch you, sat there like a damn dog.

no growling, no snarling. he just stared, just watched you.

internally, bob was panicking. you had seen him, you were panicking, and he didn't know how to fix it.

so, he ran.

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just-b-yourself · 1 day ago

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Nick Blaine – Final Thought

Lately, I’ve been haunted by one obsessive thought:

What could Nick’s final thoughts have been, onboard that fucking plane? I love writing — it’s a way for me to let out my thoughts, and sometimes release a buildup of heavy emotions. I know there are incredibly talented people on this platform who write amazing fanfics and beautiful pieces. I’ve never shared anything I’ve written before, but I felt like sharing this one here, in the hope that maybe it might resonate with some of you. It’s a raw, messy, chaotic, unpolished piece — something that could represent what Nick’s mindset and last thoughts might have been before that plane exploded.This is not canon. I chose to imagine that Nick had a sense that something was going to happen, that it was the end. I hope a few of you might connect with it.

Nick — One Minute Left

I’m sitting here, waiting for a flight that feels heavier than the sky. And all I can hear is silence. The kind that presses against your ribs. The kind that knows something you don’t.

They say you know when it’s your time. But I don’t feel fear. I feel something colder. Something lonelier.

I think of her. I always do, in these moments between orders and obedience. I wonder if she’s safe. If she’s warm.If she’s alright. I wonder if she’s thinking of me. If she knows I’m here. If anyone told her. If she’d care.

She wouldn’t let this happen… right?Not if she knew. Not after everything. After the child we made in secret. After every breath I held, every lie I told, every truth I buried… for her.

I kept my heart somewhere between her voice and her silence. Maybe this is what I get. For staying in the grey too long. For loving in the shadows. For believing I could be forgiven for wearing their uniform.

That weight in the air — that crackle in the silence. Like heat before a storm. I turned just slightly, instinctively. Hoping. Imagining. But the fog held its secrets. And still, I boarded.

But I swear, I felt her. I turned slightly. Not enough to make it obvious. Not enough to see. But enough to hope.

Because if she stood in the fog, unseen, and didn’t call out — How could she do that? How could she let me go, after all we survived? Did she think I deserved this? Was I just easier to erase than to forgive?

Then I’m not sure what’s worse: The explosion waiting for me in the sky, Or the realization that I spent all these years dying for someone who decided, in the end, I wasn’t worth saving.

So I tell myself the only thing that lets me breathe:

She didn’t know.

Because if she did — and let me board anyway — That’s a kind of death no fireball could ever match.

It wasn’t the plane that killed me. It wasn’t Gilead. It wasn’t the war. It was watching her walk away.

The last time she saw me, she looked at me like I was something foul. Not a person. Not someone she used to love. Just a living reminder of everything she wanted to escape.

The last time she looked at me, it was like I was something she'd already buried. A memory she didn’t want to remember. I saw it in her eyes — the shift. I was no longer him. Just the reason it still hurt.

But do I regret saving her? Never. Not for a second. I would do it all again — every lie, every bruise, every breath in the dark — just to see her safe.

Because that’s what love does. Even when no one sees you. Even when no one says your name. It stays.

I stayed when she ran. I covered her when they hunted her.

I loved her when she was broken. When she was furious. When she was cruel. I loved her when I shouldn’t have. When it hurt. When it cost me everything. It’s the kind of love that doesn’t ask for anything. That just is. Raw. Honest. Unforgiving in its weight. It was never about ownership. It was about orbit — like no matter how far she drifted, I was always pulled back to her. Like I was made to stay.

Because this place eats dreams. And men like me? We were never meant to keep anything beautiful.

I won’t see Holly again. My beautiful girl. I won’t get to hold her one last time. To tell her how much I loved her. How much I gave up so she could be free. She won’t know that I whispered her name in rooms full of enemies. Will she be safe now? Will she know who I was? Or will they tell her I was just a shadow? A mistake?

She won’t even remember me. Not the sound of my voice. Not the way I held her, so small, so light, like she’d break if I breathed too hard. She’ll grow up not knowing I was even real. And maybe that’s better. Better than being the ghost in the room. The one no one talks about. But God, I wanted to raise her. To hold her hand. To walk her to school. To tell her stories at night. To make her feel safe. I wanted to build her a world where she didn’t have to be afraid. Will Holly grow up safe?

And my son… He’ll be born into a broken world. And I won’t be there to tell him how to survive it. What if he becomes one of them? What if I die trying to stop the machine, and he’s raised inside it — thinking it's all normal? I won’t be there to guide him. To pull him back when the power starts to feel good. To show him that mercy is strength, not weakness. I won’t get to be his father.

Will he look like me? Will he smile like I did when I still believed in things? Or will he grow up and become everything I fought against? Will someone tell him? Who I really was?

Both of my children — No faces of me. No story. Just silence. The same silence I’ve lived in for years.

Maybe I stopped being someone. Maybe I became the thing everyone always thought I was. The guy in the shadows. The Eye. The soldier. The mistake.

It’s not dying. Not being erased. It’s knowing I’ll never get to ask her why. Never get to hear her say it to my face. That she gave up on me. That I wasn’t worth saving. And maybe I wasn’t. Maybe I was always just... temporary. A detour. The guy you love in secret, but never enough to fight for.

Because love, for me, was never about being saved. It was about staying. Even when no one else did.

I stayed quiet. I did the work. I carried the blood on my hands so she didn’t have to. We went through fire together. We made something impossible. A child. A moment of light in a world built to kill it.

Because how could I explain what betrayal looks like when you're playing chess against monsters and sacrificing pieces just to keep someone breathing?

To her now… I’m just the handmaid’s mistake. The one she buried to survive.

She once told me she loved me. I believed her. I still want to. But if love ends with silence… If love means watching someone walk into death and saying nothing… Then maybe she stopped loving me long before this flight ever took off.

So yeah, maybe she did hate me in the end. Maybe I deserve that. But I keep thinking… did she ever really love me? Was I just a way out? A break between the pain?

Should I have fought harder? Run sooner?

But I loved. And I tried to protect what mattered.

The plane is quiet. The kind of quiet that hums under your ribs. You start to hear your own heart, and you wonder when it’ll stop.

And wherever they go next — June, Holly, my son — I’ll be watching. Somehow. Even if they forget me. Even if she looks back one day and still sees a monster — I’ll still be loving them. Even from nowhere.

All the pain, all the blood, all the nights I didn’t sleep — It was all for her. For Holly. For the tiny, stupid dream that maybe I wasn’t nobody after all.

Now I’ll die like I lived. In silence. In the middle of things. Alone. But if there’s anything after this… I’ll find them. And I’ll watch over them. Even if they never say my name again. Even if they think I was just some mistake. I’ll still be there. Because that’s love. The kind you don’t get twice. The kind that doesn’t ask questions. The kind that stays. Even when no one else does.

Call it the ghost of a woman I can’t seem to forget.

Call it love.

But it was always her.

#nick blaine #nickblaine #the handmaid's tale #osblaine #nick x june #the handmaids tale hulu #nick and june #tht #fanfic #max minghella

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big-ooof · 3 days ago

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First date scenarios— one with Heeseung (he's been stuck in my head lately..) and another one with Jake (honestly, my favorite pairing).

Heeseung

You didn’t expect to laugh this much. Not with a practical stranger. Not on a date you almost bailed on because work ran late and your eyeliner smudged just the wrong way.

But Heeseung had been waiting outside the café with a crooked grin and two coffees already in hand. “Thought you might need this. Also, I didn’t want to wait in line twice.”

And now, an hour after you’d drained your drinks and the barista started giving last-call energy, you were walking side by side through the city like it was yours alone.

“Okay, serious question,” he says, swinging your joined hands between you like a pendulum. “If you had to eat one type of bread for the rest of your life—only one—what would it be?”

You give him a look. “That’s the serious question?”

“Dead serious.” He squints. “Your whole personality rides on this.”

You stifle a laugh. “Focaccia.”

He gasps. “Focaccia? That’s such a confident answer. You didn’t even hesitate.”

“I’m decisive when it counts.”

“Oh yeah? What if I said sourdough?”

“I’d say you’re pretentious, but in a cute way.”

He barks out a laugh and looks over at you, and it lingers. His eyes, his smile. Like he’s studying something and doesn’t mind being caught.

“You’re kind of dangerous,” he murmurs.

“Why’s that?”

“Because I forgot I just met you today. It feels like we’ve done this before.”

That does something to your chest. The good kind of ache.

The walk continues. Through small parks still flickering with fairy lights, past old bookstores, down alleys painted with murals and street art. Heeseung never stops talking, but he listens just as easily. Every time your shoulder brushes his, he leans a little closer. It’s natural, not forced. Comfortable.

When he stops outside his apartment building, it’s not a grand gesture. Just a pause, his thumb stroking over the back of your hand.

“You wanna come up?” he asks, voice soft but playful. “No pressure. I’ve got bad wine and an even worse movie we can judge together.”

You hesitate for a beat. Not because you’re unsure, but because you’re surprised by how easy it feels to say yes. So you do.

“I’m picking the movie, though.”

He grins. “I’m fine with that.”

When you walk inside with him, your fingers are still laced. Coming here is impulsive, yes, but not reckless. Just right. Like the kind of first date you tell your best friend about with a stupid smile in your voice.

His apartment is warm in the quiet kind of way: dimmed lighting, a record player in the corner, books stacked unevenly, and a hoodie draped over the arm of the couch.

“Make yourself at home,” he says, tossing his keys into a dish near the door. “Just... shoes off, please, house rules.”

You kick yours off and follow him into the living room, already shedding your jacket. Heeseung watches the movement, slow and thoughtful, like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s seen all day.

He disappears briefly into the kitchen. “You still good with bad wine?”

“I’ve committed,” you call back, settling onto the couch.

He returns with two glasses and a mischievous smile. “It’s boxed. I warned you.”

You take a sip and grimace. “This is juice’s sad cousin.”

“Exactly. It builds character.”

You’re still laughing when he drops beside you on the couch, thigh brushing yours, the blanket already pulled over both your legs. The movie plays, but neither of you is really watching. Your legs end up tangled. His hand finds your knee under the blanket. His thumb rubs soft circles there, and your whole body pays attention.

He leans in, voice lower now. “You’re even prettier up close.”

You meet his eyes, cheeks flushed— half from the wine, half from the tension slowly crackling between you. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

“I was trying to be smooth.”

“You are.”

Heeseung watches your mouth as you speak. Then his hand slides from your knee to your thigh, slow, deliberate.

“Can I kiss you?” he murmurs.

You nod, lips parting right as he leans in. It’s soft at first. Just a brush. A test. But then you tilt into it, and he groans quietly, deepening it, one hand cupping your jaw as the other slips beneath the blanket to grip your waist.

The blanket shifts as you climb into his lap, arms winding around his neck, heat blooming under your skin as his hands start to roam— waist, hips, sliding under your shirt to press against bare skin.

“You sure?” he whispers against your mouth, voice husky, chest rising with restraint.

“Very sure.” The movie becomes background noise. So does everything else. His touch is warm and steady as he lays you down on the couch, bodies fitting together like you’ve done this before in another lifetime.

Clothes peel away slowly, with smiles and teasing glances between kisses. Heeseung isn’t in a rush. He watches every reaction, murmurs praises into your skin, trails his mouth down your neck and across your collarbone like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your pleasure.

“You’re gonna ruin me,” he breathes. Your hands in his hair, his lips on your chest, the way he groans when your fingers tug at his waistband and your hips arch into his touch.

And later, when the wine sits forgotten and you’re curled up in his arms, skin against skin under the terrible blanket he insisted on sharing, he presses a kiss to your shoulder and whispers, “Hope that wasn’t too impulsive.”

You smile, tracing lazy circles on his chest. “Best impulsive decision I’ve made in a long time.”

He laughs quietly, pulling you closer. “Then maybe we make another bad decision and get breakfast together tomorrow?”

You nod, eyes heavy, heart light. “Only if I can pick what we eat.”

“Deal.”

Jake

The first time Jake walked into your bar, he ordered something simple. A gin and tonic, no lime. You remembered because he made it a point to compliment your playlist and then raised his brows when you said it was your own mix.

“You made this?” he asked, eyes lighting up. “That explains why it's actually good.”

It wasn't the best pickup line, but the way he said it—genuinely impressed, not overly slick—made you laugh.

He started coming in every other week. Never pushy, never staying too long. Just enough to be familiar. And when he finally asked you out, it was with a crooked grin and a, “You know, I think it'd be a crime not to hear the full version of your music taste over dinner.”

The first date was casual, simple. You two went to a ramen place tucked into a corner of the city. Walked around afterward, ice cream melting faster than either of you could keep up.

Jake was easy to talk to. Funny in that slightly chaotic way that made you laugh from the belly. He asked about your job, your dog, your favorite conspiracy theory (“Birds aren’t real,” he said with mock seriousness), and didn’t flinch when you called him out for double-dipping the fries.

When the night cooled, he offered you his jacket. When your hands brushed, he didn’t make it weird. When you stopped walking and turned to him outside your apartment, the way he looked at you made your chest thrum.

“Can I walk you home?” he'd asked earlier.

You nodded, not quite ready for the night to end.

But then he added, hopeful and a little breathless, “Or… wanna come back to mine instead?”

You looked at him. His flushed cheeks, the nervous little grin, the way his eyes kept flicking from yours to your mouth and back again.

“Okay,” you said. “Yeah. I want to.”

His apartment was a reflection of him: a little chaotic, warm, inviting. One wall stacked with vinyls, another with Polaroids and postcards. A dog plushie wearing sunglasses sat in the corner.

“I cleaned like hell before this,” Jake admitted, handing you a beer. “Just in case. Not assuming. But, you know. Manifesting.”

You laughed, curling onto his couch. “Manifesting, huh?”

“You have no idea how hard I was rooting for that yes.”

You clinked your can of beer with his.

When his hand brushed yours under the blanket, and suddenly the night slowed. He turned to you, gaze heavy now. “Can I kiss you?”

The moment your lips met, the tension shifted from flirtation to something warmer and hungrier. You climbed into his lap, his hands exploring your waist, thumbs dipping under your shirt. Your fingers were tangled in his hair, your breaths syncing in tempo, your body suddenly very aware of every place he touched you.

“You sure?” he whispered against your mouth.

You nodded. “Very.”

That night clothes came off in stages. Between kisses and laughter and quiet groans. Jake took his time. His touch was reverent, his compliments whispered into your skin, his eyes never leaving yours when it mattered most.

He made you feel beautiful, wanted, safe. You held him close as the night unfolded, the warmth between you too big to measure, the chemistry impossible to ignore.

And afterward, tangled together under the world's ugliest blanket, your legs woven with his, he traced circles on your bare back and said, “So… that wasn’t just the alcohol, right?”

You smiled, sleepy and soft. “Not even close.”

He kissed your forehead. “Good. Because I make killer pancakes in the morning. And I was kinda hoping you'd stay.”

You leaned into his chest. “Only if I get to steal your hoodie.”

He laughed, pulling you tighter. “Easiest deal ever.”

#enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #enhypen jake #enhypen fluff #jake x reader #jake x y/n #jake scenarios #heeseung fluff #heeseung #heeseung x reader

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dee-writes-anime · 3 days ago

Note

Oh boy, i got smt for yo ass

If you write for toumura (?) can I request

A angsty fic where he and reader are in a secret relationship, and during a big fight or smt reader DIES!!!!

That mother fucker breaks down, and the heroes truly start to see he was manipulated from a young age. But he doesn’t care because the one person who truly saw him for him is now dead? Bleeding out on the hard pavement, getting cold, pale.

Do as you please with this your honour

Dust to Dust

FEATURING Tenko 'Tomura Shigaraki' Shimura x Reader

SUMMARY the only thing keeping Tenko Shimura, the human, tethered to the world was you. Now that you're gone all that remains is Tomura Shigaraki, the weapon.

CONTENT WARNINGS major character death, violence, death, grief, this is some sad shit gang, tomura crashing out

AUTHORS NOTE oh monty you are in for a fucking TREAT! (I am a chronic Tomura apologist, never hesitate to request fics for him, that's my pookie)

There were never supposed to be survivors in his story.

Tomura grew up learning that hands could only destroy—that if you held something too tight, it would crumble, rot, turn to ash. His quirk made sure of it. His trauma guaranteed it.

So when you came into his life, soft-spoken but unafraid, he thought it was a trick.

You weren’t a villain. Not by profession, at least. You weren’t with the heroes either. A smuggler, maybe. A courier. Someone who slipped through the cracks with a false ID and a neutral stance. The kind of person who could trade with the League if the price was right.

He watched you the first time you made a deal with Kurogiri. Head held high. Voice steady. Smart eyes that didn’t tremble at the sight of his face, or the itch in his neck when he lost his patience.

That night, when you left, you handed him a candy bar.

“No offense,” you’d said, “but you look like you haven't eaten in two days.”

He stared at the wrapper in his palm for an hour after you were gone.

You weren’t supposed to come back.

But you did. Again and again. Deals turned into conversations. Conversations into late nights. Quiet laughter in the corners of safehouses and stolen moments between missions. It was slow. Unexpected.

Intimate.

You never asked about the scars. You never flinched when he touched your skin—barehanded, even, once he’d mastered restraint. You only ever looked at him like he was a man. Not a monster. Not a mistake.

So he loved you in silence. In pieces. In ways he didn’t know how to name.

And you loved him back—messy, dangerous, fucked-up and real.

So when you died, everything else died with you.

The battlefield reeked of scorched flesh and boiling asphalt. The skies were a churning bruise of smoke and superheated air, clouds split open with distant fire. Hero and villain clashed in chaotic tides, a city block crumbling beneath the weight of too many powers unleashed at once.

But Shigaraki didn’t see any of it.

He only saw you.

Crushed under a collapsed building, a chunk of rebar piercing through your side. Blood soaked your clothes in a sick, rippling bloom, and the light in your eyes was already dimming.

“Tomu,” you choked when you saw him, and that fucking nickname—only you called him that—it snapped something inside him.

He ran.

He forgot the heroes, forgot the war, forgot his orders.

He dropped to the ground beside you, cradling your face with hands that trembled, that shouldn’t be touching anything living. His gloves were gone.

But you didn’t flinch.

“You’re gonna be fine,” he lied. “We’ll get Toga—she can—she’ll fix it—”

“You know she can’t,” you whispered, a smile ghosting your lips. Your blood painted his fingers. “It’s okay.”

“No. No, it’s not okay.”

He was breathing too fast. His chest was a cage, his ribs knives. “You said you weren’t gonna leave me.”

“I meant it,” you said, voice thin. “But… I’m not scared, Tomu. I got to love you. Really love you. You let me in.”

His grip tightened. He was shaking so hard it looked like convulsions.

“And now you’re leaving,” he said, voice breaking like glass. “They took you from me.”

You reached up with what little strength you had left and touched his face—thumb brushing a tear he didn’t know had fallen.

“I’m glad I found you,” you whispered.

And then your hand fell.

And you were gone.

He didn’t remember screaming.

He didn’t remember the sound he made when he realized you weren’t breathing, or how he clutched your body to his chest like it might keep you warm. Like it could drag you back from wherever you’d gone.

But the heroes remembered.

Because they’d never heard a sound like that before—not from him. Not from the Symbol of Villainy. Not from the man they believed was incapable of mourning.

He sobbed. Ripped at his hair. His nails clawed down his neck, tearing skin, his blood dripping onto your body like a failed offering.

“She loved me,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “And I couldn’t even save her.”

All For One’s voice buzzed distantly in his mind, trying to pull him back. But the tether snapped. Severed.

He’d failed. Failed you.

He laid you down carefully—so, so gently—and turned to face the battlefield with empty eyes.

“She was good,” he said to no one. “She never should’ve been part of this.”

Heroes had started to surround him. The League was frozen behind him.

“She never killed. Never lied. She just… wanted me to be better. Me. Not him. Not the weapon they made.”

His eyes lifted.

And they were wild.

“You fucking killed her.”

No one spoke. No one moved.

And then—

The world cracked.

A tremor split the street as Shigaraki unleashed himself.

Dust and ash consumed buildings. Asphalt buckled. Concrete vaporized under his scream of grief as decay spiraled outward, uncontrolled. His body surged with borrowed power—rage, agony, everything he’d ever buried beneath hate now set free.

The League barely escaped.

Heroes scattered.

But the image that haunted them—the thing they never forgot—wasn’t the destruction.

It was the way he collapsed afterward, kneeling beside your broken body, whispering your name like a prayer, or maybe a curse. His hands cradling your face. His thumb tracing your brow.

And the tears. So many tears.

Later, when it was over, and the dust had settled, the world asked:

“Was he ever the real villain?”

And no one had an answer.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #my hero acedamia #my hero academy fanfiction #dee's asks #mha #kohei horikoshi #horikoshi when i catch you #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #tomura shiragaki #mha tomura #bnha tomura #tomura x reader #shigaraki tenko #bnha tenko #tenko shigaraki #mha tenko #tenko shimura

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cirilla-fiona-riannon · 3 days ago

Text

2025 General Election: “Special Story”

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies. Spoilers ahead.

When I woke up that morning, the first thing I saw was Ranmaru's beautiful sleeping face.

My heart skipped a beat as I felt his arm wrapped around my back.

(Oh, right.)

(Last night, I ended up staying in Ranmaru's room.)

Even though we live in the same castle, we usually sleep in separate rooms.

That's exactly why mornings like this feel even more special.

(Still, I'm so nervous.)

(Just watching him sleep like this is enough to make my heart flutter.)

Even though Ranmaru and I were lovers now, our relationship was still fairly new.

Ranmaru: "Mmm. Lady Mai?"

Mai: "G-Good morning!"

Ranmaru: "You're already up? You can sleep in a little longer, you know?"

Ranmaru: "You were working late last night. Come on, close your eyes."

(Waah...)

He gently patted my back with practiced affection.

(Wait—what did he just say?)

(I wasn't working late last night. Is he still half-asleep?)

Confused, I looked up at him from within his arms—and our eyes met.

Then, suddenly, his eyes widened in surprise.

Ranmaru: "Am I dreaming? You look different somehow. Like you're not the you I know."

Ranmaru (Future): "I see. So you're the you from ten years ago."

As we talked and tried to make sense of it all, the shocking truth came out.

Though his appearance was exactly the same, it turned out he was Ranmaru from ten years in the future.

(Now that I think about it, yeah, he does feel a little different than usual.)

(And I kind of need to believe that, or my heart might explode.)

Like it was the most natural thing in the world, he sat me down in front of the vanity and began brushing my hair.

(He didn't even give me a chance to protest—he moved so naturally, like he's done this a thousand times before.)

(This must be something we do all the time in the future.)

His gentle, careful touch warmed me inside, though I couldn't help but blush at how intimate it felt.

Ranmaru (Future): "What's wrong? You look nervous."

Mai: "Um, what do I usually do? Do I just sit here quietly?"

Ranmaru (Future): "Hmm. You're mostly dozing off."

Ranmaru (Future): "You tend to sway sleepily, so it actually takes a bit of skill to get your hair right."

(Wait—am I really like that in the future!?)

Mai: "I'm definitely relying on you too much."

Mai: "I should probably start working on that so I can keep it together in the future."

I said it to him through the mirror, and Ranmaru chuckled softly.

Ranmaru (Future): "Hmm? You don't need to, you know."

Ranmaru (Future): "It just means you feel safest by my side now."

Ranmaru (Future): "So I want you to stay just the way you are."

(Ah…)

He gently ran his fingers through my hair, smiling sweetly.

Mai: "I must be really happy."

Ranmaru (Future): "Hm?"

Mai: "I just thought—my future self must be incredibly happy."

Mai: "To be treated so kindly and loved so openly by someone I love is amazing."

Mai: "Thank you, Ranmaru."

I thanked him on behalf of the drowsy version of me from the future—but for some reason, he sighed.

(Huh? Why did he sigh?)

Ranmaru (Future): "Geez. You're just as cute as you were ten years ago."

Mai: "----!"

Ranmaru (Future): "But the me in this timeline has only just started dating you."

Ranmaru (Future): "Even if it's still me, I probably can't go through with the usual 'finishing touches' just yet."

(Finishing touches? It's just my hair. What would he even need to hold back for?)

Confused, I turned around to look at him, and he gave me a playful wink.

Ranmaru (Future): "Curious about what the finishing touches are?"

Ranmaru (Future): "Well, let's just call that a little something to look forward to in the future."

Ranmaru (Future): "I think the 'me' from this time is about to wake up, so I'll leave the rest to him, okay?"

Mai: "Huh?"

The moment he said that, Ranmaru quietly closed his eyes.

When he opened them again—slowly this time—he puffed out his cheeks in slight annoyance.

Mai: "R-Ranmaru?"

Ranmaru: "That's right. I'm the version of myself who's dating you in the present."

Ranmaru: "And also the me who saw everything that happened between you and future me."

Mai: "Wait, seriously!?"

Before I could process it, Ranmaru wrapped his arms around me from behind, pulling me into a tight embrace.

Ranmaru: "I was supposed to be the one sharing a sweet morning with you—not him."

Ranmaru: "But since he left the final touches to me, I guess I'll let it slide just this once."

Mai: "You knew what he was going to do?"

Ranmaru: "Of course. I mean, he is me."

Ranmaru: "And when it comes to doing something for you—I know exactly what I'd do."

(Ah…)

He turned me around and pressed a soft kiss to my lips.

The warmth of it faded quickly, replaced by a tender gaze that made my heart race.

Ranmaru: "I love you with all my heart."

Ranmaru: "I hope today gives you plenty of reasons to smile!"

(Ranmaru…)

Mai: "You know, I was wrong about what I said to future you."

Mai: "It's not just future me who's lucky—present me is just as happy, too."

Ranmaru: "Heh, of course you are. I wouldn't accept anything less."

Still laughing, he gave me another kiss—this one playful and affectionate.

The way he touched me, so much like the future Ranmaru, made me realize just how deep and lasting his love truly was.

#ikesen translations #ikesen jp #ikemen sengoku #ikesen ranmaru #ranmaru mori #cybird #ikesen #otome

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darlingyougotthis · 2 days ago

Text

Gravity

Jake “Hangman” Seresin Fanfic

Chapter Seven: The Cost of Jealousy

Tiffany sat at her desk in her office, the manila folder open on her lap like a secret confession.

The photo of Grayson stared back at her. Uniform perfect, smile clean, future intact—until it wasn’t. She ran her finger down the page once more, tracing the redacted lines, the ghost of Strike Six stamped across the top of the report.

She replied her conversation with Jake from the night before. She snapped the file closed. Tonight was the night. She was tired of waiting.

The Hard Deck was already alive with music and familiar noise by the time Tiffany arrived. From the front window, she could see the team crowded in their usual spot. She adjusted her dress—black, fitted, effortless—and walked in like she owned the night.

Then she saw them.

Jake and Nova stood off to the side, near the jukebox, laughing about something. Nova was holding a bottle loosely in one hand, her other hand reaching out to Jake’s arm as she made a point. It was innocent—barely a touch—but Jake smiled. Not politely. Not distantly. He smiled like she was the only person in the bar.

Tiffany’s nails dug into her palm as she stepped forward.

By the time she reached the table, the laughter faded. Jake looked up, surprised. Nova stepped back slightly.

“Hey,” Tiffany said brightly, sliding an arm through Jake’s. She kissed his cheek with practiced warmth. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic was a bitch.”

Jake gave her a nod, but he didn’t return the gesture. She noticed.

“Drinks?” she asked, already heading to the bar before anyone could offer.

At the bar, she ordered a wine and looked back.

Nova had returned to her seat beside Phoenix, but she leaned toward Jake as he said something. Her eyes sparkled, head tilted, and Jake—Jake—was watching her like gravity pulled him there.

Like Tiffany wasn’t in the room at all. The jealousy hit like fire under her skin. She returned to the table, all smiles, sliding back in beside Jake. She laughed at jokes, chimed in, leaned against his shoulder. But her eyes never stopped watching them.

And when Nova laughed—loud and real at something Rooster said—Jake’s smile lingered. That was it. Tiffany looked down at her drink. Her smile sharpened. Time to remind everyone just who they were dealing with.

She turned to Nova, her voice light as lace.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask, Nova.”

Nova glanced over. “Yeah?”

“I mean, you’re so polished. So composed all the time. But we all have our ghosts, right?”

Nova blinked. “I suppose.”

Tiffany leaned forward a touch, voice just low enough for the table to catch it. “I just think it’s so brave. Hiding so much grief behind all that control. I don’t know how you do it.”

The table stilled. Jake looked up, tension tightening across his brow.

Tiffany continued, smile perfectly in place. “If I’d lost my fiancé like that—during a mission that no one could talk about—I don’t think I’d even get out of bed. Let alone be one of the best pilots in the program.”

Nova’s face went white. Phoenix straightened in her seat. Rooster stopped mid-sip. Even Bob set his glass down, slowly.

Jake’s voice was low. “What did you say?”

Tiffany turned to him, as innocent as a saint. “Oh! She didn’t tell you?”

Jake stared. “Fiancé?”

“Lieutenant Grayson Hayes,” Tiffany said with practiced ease. “Strike Six. KIA. About three years ago? The file’s not public, of course. But you know me. Intel.” She continued with a nonchalant shrug as she took a sip of her wine.

Nova stood slowly, her hand trembled just once as she set her half-finished beer on the table. No rebuttal. No defense. No outburst. Just quiet devastation. Jake stood, but Nova didn’t look back. She walked straight to the exit. The sound of the door closing behind her was louder than anything Tiffany had said.

Jake rounded on her.

“What the hell was that?”

Tiffany blinked. “What? You said you wanted honesty.”

“No,” Jake said, eyes blazing. “That wasn’t honesty. That was an ambush.”

“She kept it from everyone,” Tiffany argued.

“Because it was hers,” he snapped. “Not yours to throw out like gossip over drinks.”

“She’s not the person you think—”

Jake stepped back from her like the air around her was toxic.

“You don’t know her. And you sure as hell don’t know me.”

Tiffany’s face hardened. “So what, you’re running after her now?”

Jake didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. He was already gone.

The waves whispered like they knew. As if the ocean had been here long enough to learn how to hold grief gently.

Nova sat at the edge of the beach, legs pulled tight to her chest, her chin resting on her knees. Her gaze was distant—fixed somewhere far beyond the black horizon, where the stars hung too quietly.

The cold sand clung to her flight boots. Her eyes were red, lashes damp. She hadn’t wiped the tears; she let them fall, one after another, down wind-kissed cheeks.

Behind her, soft footsteps. She didn’t need to look. She felt him. Jake.

She didn’t turn. Didn’t move. Just whispered, “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” he said gently.

“I don’t want company.”

“I’m not here to talk.”

He stood beside her for a moment longer before lowering himself into the sand. He didn’t sit too close, didn’t push. He just… stayed.

The silence wrapped around them like a tide neither could stop. A hush broken only by the rhythm of the sea.

After a while, Nova lifted her head. Her breath caught in her throat as her fingers drifted to the base of her throat. She pulled out a thin silver chain hidden beneath the collar of her shirt.

The ring nestled there was delicate. A simple band. Understated. Beautiful.

She uncurled it into her palm and stared at it as it shimmered in the moonlight.

Jake watched. Quiet. Waiting.

“I met him at Strike Six,” Nova said finally. Her voice was calm, but frayed at the edges. “Grayson Hayes. He was cocky. Quiet, but not shy. The kind of man who only spoke when he meant it.”

She gave a soft, sad laugh. “He never called me Ava. Said it didn’t suit me. Said ‘Nova’ sounded like who I really was. Like someone impossible to forget.”

Jake glanced at her, but still said nothing.

“He wasn’t the loudest. Wasn’t the strongest. But when shit hit the fan, everyone looked to him. Including me.”

She rubbed her thumb over the curve of the ring.

“We weren’t supposed to fall in love. It’s not exactly encouraged when you’re being trained to vanish into the world. But it happened anyway. In the silence. In the in-betweens. He always brought me coffee before sunrise drills. Black with a sugar packet taped to the lid, because I liked the option.”

Jake’s throat worked, his eyes not leaving her.

“He proposed on a night I’ll never forget,” she said softly, eyes misting over with the memory. “We’d just gotten back from a brutal op. We were both exhausted, bruised, but somehow… at peace. He snuck me out onto the roof of our base—said he wanted to show me something.”

She smiled faintly.

“It was the stars. We used to sit up there sometimes, away from the noise, away from everything. Just the two of us. That night, he laid out a blanket, had two mugs of that awful powdered hot chocolate we used to joke about. I didn’t suspect a thing.”

Her fingers grazed the ring still resting in her palm.

“He took my hands, looked me dead in the eye, and said, ‘Nova, I’ve seen the way you walk into fire without flinching. I’ve seen you break and build yourself back up a hundred times. And every time, I love you more. I want to be the reason you come home. I want to be your quiet after the storm.’”

Her voice cracked just slightly.

“Then he pulled out the ring and said, ‘Marry me. Not because it’s safe or easy—but because it’s ours.’”

She shook her head, the tears coming again, soft and silent.

“He died two months later. We were deep into a high-risk op—standard recon, or so they said. But something went wrong. We split to cover more ground and… he didn’t come back.”

Jake looked down, jaw tight.

Nova swallowed hard, holding the ring tighter. “The debrief was two sentences. Mission incomplete. Hayes KIA. That was it.”

The wind carried the sound of the waves to their feet.

“I didn’t tell anyone when I transferred,” she murmured. “I couldn’t. I didn’t want it to be a story that followed me into every room.”

She turned her head toward Jake, finally meeting his gaze.

“It wasn’t about hiding him. It was about protecting what we had. It was ours.”

Jake’s eyes searched hers. “You loved him.”

“I still do.”

Her voice was steady now, quieter. “But you know what’s strange?”

He lifted his chin slightly.

“You remind me of him.”

Jake froze.

“Not because you’re the same,” she added quickly, eyes flicking down to the ring before returning to his. “You’re not. But you have… that same kind of steadiness. That way of anchoring everyone around you without saying much at all.”

Jake’s breath caught.

She offered him the faintest smile. “He’d have liked you.”

Jake didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. He just sat beside her as she wiped her eyes and tucked the ring back beneath her shirt. She didn’t say thank you. She didn’t have to.

The stars stretched out over them in silence, unbothered and brilliant. The waves faded behind them, and the scent of salt clung to their clothes as they stepped off the sand and onto the quiet sidewalk.

Jake fell into step beside her, not saying much at first. His hands were in his pockets, her arms folded loosely across her chest.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said gently.

Nova paused. “What about your truck?”

Jake offered a small, sideways smile. “I think we both could use the walk.”

There was something in his tone—something unspoken but steady. Not pushing. Just offering. Nova looked at him for a long second before nodding.

They walked. The neighborhood was still. The occasional porch light flickered on in the distance. A soft wind blew through the palms above them, and Nova tilted her head back just slightly to catch a glimpse of the sky. There was peace here, in the quiet between them. In the rhythm of footsteps on pavement.

They didn’t say much, but when they did, it was light. Easy. A gentle reprieve from everything else.

Jake told a story about Coyote getting locked out of their shared room during training. Nova laughed softly and shook her head, teasing, “And they still let you fly jets?”

Jake grinned, nudging her shoulder with his. “Miracles happen.”

At one point, their hands brushed—barely a touch—and neither pulled away. But they didn’t grab hold either. It lingered like a question neither of them knew how to ask.

When they reached Nova’s front door, she turned to him, keys in hand.

“Do you wanna come in?” she asked softly. “Just for a bit. I know it’s late, I just…”

Jake didn’t let her finish. He nodded. “Yeah. I’ll come in.”

Inside, her place was quiet and warm. Minimal but lived in—soft lighting, muted tones, no unnecessary clutter. Jake followed her into the kitchen as she filled two glasses of water.

She handed one to him with a soft, “Here.”

“Thanks,” he said, then glanced past her—something on the wall catching his attention.

A photo.

Nova followed his gaze.

The picture was slightly grainy, clearly candid. It showed two pilots in sleek black flight suits, jets behind them. One of them—Grayson—had his arms wrapped around Nova from behind, his chin resting lightly on her shoulder. She was laughing. They both were.

Jake stepped closer, taking it in. There was something about it—the ease in their bodies, the joy in their faces.

“Is that Grayson?” he asked, his voice low.

Nova turned toward the frame, her smile tinged with something fonder now. “Yeah. That’s him.”

Jake studied it for a beat longer. “You both look so happy.”

“We were,” Nova whispered. Her fingers grazed the edge of the photo. “That was the last one we ever took together. We didn’t even know someone was taking it. One of the crew must’ve snapped it while we were messing around between drills.”

She looked down, thumb brushing the condensation on her glass.

“We had no idea what was ahead of us.”

Jake didn’t reply. He just let the moment settle.

She turned back to him. “Thank you. For walking me home. For… being here.”

Jake nodded slowly. “You don’t have to thank me. I wanted to.”

Another pause.

Then he spoke, the words tugged from somewhere deep.

“What she did tonight…” he hesitated, jaw clenching slightly. “Tiffany. I’m sorry. I had no idea she was capable of—of something like that. I’m furious, honestly. That she—”

Nova lifted a hand gently, shaking her head. “Jake. You don’t have to apologise for her.”

But he didn’t stop.

“No, I do,” he said. “That wasn’t just cruel. It was calculated. Cold. And completely out of line.”

Nova didn’t disagree.

She tilted her head slightly, eyes meeting his with quiet clarity. “It was cruel,” she admitted. “But… not entirely uncalled for.”

Jake blinked. The implication settled slowly, but when it did, he didn’t look away. He didn’t ask what she meant. He didn’t need to, because he knew.

The glances.

The teasing.

The quiet pull.

The way his eyes always found her—even when they shouldn’t.

Nova exhaled through her nose, her voice softer now. “We’ve been toeing a line we both knew was there.”

Jake looked at her for a long moment. There was no defensiveness in his posture. No denial. Just the storm of everything he couldn’t say.

“But I never meant to make things harder for you,” she added.

“You didn’t,” Jake replied, voice low. “You just… made me feel things I thought I’d buried.”

Nova’s lips parted slightly, surprise flickering behind her eyes—but she didn’t press. She just nodded, and that was enough.

The moment lingered like the last light before dusk. Warm, fleeting, and unbearably delicate.

Tiffany sat at the kitchen table, legs crossed at the ankles, hands resting on the wooden table informs of her—too calm to be calm. The moonlight spilled across the floor like silver glass. Cold. Sharp.

The room was still.

Too still.

She’d thought it would feel better.

Nova hadn’t even fought back. No smart remark. No stormy stare. She’d just… shut down. Put the beer down. Walked away.

Shaken. Quiet. Wounded.

Tiffany should’ve felt victorious.

But she didn’t, because Jake had followed.

Not a second thought. Not a word to her. Just gone. And he still wasn’t home.

Tiffany’s jaw locked. The file she’d used to strike the match sat untouched on the dresser. She stared at it for a long moment. She hadn’t destroyed Nova. She’d exposed her and all it did was make Jake run straight to her.

The front door clicked shut.

Tiffany didn’t move from the kitchen table, where she sat with her arms folded tight across her chest. A single lamp glowed above her, casting long shadows down the hall.

Jake walked in, keys jangling in his hand, eyes tired, jaw tense.

“You waited up,” he said flatly, stating the obvious.

“I wanted to talk,” she replied, voice soft. Too soft. She stood slowly. “Jake, I—”

“Don’t,” he said. Not harsh. Just… done.

She froze. He looked at her—really looked at her—for the first time all night.

“What you did,” Jake said quietly, “wasn’t about Nova.”

Tiffany’s throat tightened. “I just thought you deserved to know.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “You wanted to hurt her. And you didn’t care who you hurt in the process.”

Silence.

Tiffany stepped forward. “Jake, I—”

“I get it,” he interrupted. “You felt threatened. You lashed out. But what you said—how you said it—” He shook his head. “That wasn’t okay.”

Tiffany stepped forward. “So what, you’re running to her now?”

Jake didn’t answer right away. He looked at her—really looked at her. Not with anger. Just with truth.

“I think somewhere along the line… we stopped being good for each other,” he said gently. “I didn’t want to admit it. But tonight… it just made things clearer.”

Tiffany’s eyes welled, but she blinked it back.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and he meant it. “But this… isn’t working anymore. You know that.”

“So that’s it?” she whispered.

Jake nodded, quiet. “That’s it.”

He turned, “I’m gonna get some sleep.”

He turned, walked down the hallway, and disappeared into the dark. Tiffany didn’t call after him, because she knew.

This time, there was no fight left to win.

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a99jazzybean · 1 day ago

Note

OR it could be jaycexreader trying pot brownies 😬 I think that’ll be funny and can get spicy. If your are comfortable with it of courseee

This one was cute and fun to write! Thank you for the request!

High Enough

synop: You decided to make pot brownies for your roommate, but realize you don't have enough bud. You decide that using juice from a cart is a good idea. Jayce eats some of the brownies not realizing they have weed in them. He convinces you to get high and shenanigans ensue.

Reader is gender neutral but AFAB

words: 3.5K

includes: jaycexgn!reader, modern au, recreational drug use, weed use, high sex, creampie, smut

a/n: Guys, DO NOT make pot brownies like this. This recipe was inspired by my dumbass friends that poured a cart out into brownie mix. A tiny piece had me knocked out in 30 minutes. Do not recommend.

Dammit… You were all out of bud. You swore you had some left, but found measly crumbs at the bottom of your stash jar. That’s what you get for switching to pens you suppose.

A lightbulb went off in your head. That’s it! You could use a cart. That couldn’t go wrong, right?

You grabbed a fresh cart and some needle nose pliers and went to work on the cap. After some careful maneuvering, you managed to get it open without breaking the glass. Dumping it in your mixing bowl, you got to work making some brownies.

Turning on some tunes, you hummed and danced your way through cracking eggs and measuring flour. The brownies were for one of your roommates, Viktor. A “thank you” for getting you out of a bind on a major school project.

While they were a gift, you obviously were planning on trying them out yourself. Especially since you were experimenting with using a different form of weed. Probably best to see how you fared before accidentally making your friend green out.

When the brownies baked you found that this batch appeared to have less of the typical pungent scent than if you used flower. Noted.

After baking you left out the pan to cool. Deciding you needed a shower after accidentally covering yourself in flour, you headed down the hall. As you bathed, your other roommate returned home.

Upon entering, his nose and eyes were immediately drawn to the fresh baked brownies on the counter. Mouth watering, he skipped over to the kitchen. As the apartment’s resident baker, it wasn’t uncommon for you to randomly make goodies to share. Jayce saw this as no different. Pulling out a knife, he cut himself a decent piece of brownie. Taking a large bite out of the gooey chocolate, he moaned with content.

When you walked out of the bathroom, you heard Jayce shuffling out in the kitchen. Eyes widening, you rushed in. It was too late. The man had already scarfed down the brownie, his hand reaching once more to cut out another piece.

“STOP!” You yell, hand out.

Turning around, Jayce gave you a confused wide-eyed stare.

“What’s wrong?” Oh how naive the man was.

“Jayce, those are pot brownies.”

“Wait, really? I can’t taste it at all.”

“I might have used juice from a cart instead of flower…” You trailed sheepishly.

“WHAT???” His eyes grew even wider. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

“I ran out of bud! And I wanted to do something nice for Viktor!” You shrugged your shoulders.

“Something nice for-“ He let out an exasperated sigh. “ I’m pretty sure what you have created might put the man in a coma.”

You scoffed.

“I doubt it. He’s got an insane tolerance.”

“Regardless, I’ve eaten one.” His eyes narrowed at you.

“Don’t blame me! You ate one without asking!”

“You bake things all the time! How was I supposed to know?” He was growing very concerned.

“Hey, let’s calm down.” You softened your voice. The last thing you needed was for Jayce to spiral.

“How are you feeling?”

“I can already feel my head getting lighter.”

“Okay, so we know it hits pretty quickly.” You walked up to him slowly, taking his hand to help ground him.

He grasped yours tightly.

“I’ll keep an eye on you, kay?” Your thumb traced circles on the back his hand. The tender action made him shiver.

“What if you joined me?” Gears were turning in his head.

“What do you mean?”

“Eat one too.” He gave you pleading puppy dog eyes.

“Jayce, we have no idea how this will affect you, much less me.” You shook your head at him.

“Were you just planning on giving them to Viktor?” He eyed you suspiciously.

“W-well, no. I was going to try them-“

“Then try them. Since you were already planning on it.” He cut you off.

Those damned pleading puppy-dog eyes had you wavering. Really, what would be the harm? As long as you stay home you should be fine, hopefully.

Nodding, you gave his hand a squeeze of reassurance. He beamed at your response, making your heart swell.

Ushering you over to the counter, Jayce cut out a piece for you. You took it, giving the treat a once-over. Looking at Jayce, he was shifting side-to-side impatiently. Eyes blown out, leaving a tiny visible ring of a hazel iris.

“This is what that D.A.R.E. officer warned me about in eighth grade.” You sighed, then took a bite.

Chocolatey goodness filled your senses. Jayce was right, you couldn’t taste anything off about the brownies. Oh, that was dangerous.

You swallowed then looked at Jayce expectantly.

“What now?”

“We could chill in my room, or yours. Doesn’t matter to me.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

Jayce really, really did not want to be left alone right now. And if you were going to be in the same state as him might as well do it together, right? It’s not like he was expecting anything out of it. After all, you were very good friends. But in his weed addled mind, there was a teensy part of him that was hoping for maybe something more.

See, you were absolutely fucking gorgeous in the man’s eyes. While you had been close friends for a long while now, Jayce secretly wished for something more.

It didn’t help that the two of you had enjoyed the occasional sloppy make out sesh that followed an evening of drinking. Giving the man just a taste of what you had to offer, and nothing more.

The thing was, you also wanted a little something more as well. Not necessarily a relationship. But having a hot piece of ass like him around was tempting to say the least.

“We can chill in my room.” You said, grabbing his hand and dragging him down the hall.

Jayce had spent time in your room every so often, but it still felt like a sacred space. Especially now when it felt like his mind was floating.

Once in your room you hopped onto your bed. Sinking into the mattress with a satisfied sigh. This was the best part about being high. Just laying down and feeling it hit you. Limbs sinking down into the plush of your bed. Lifting your head a bit, you spotted Jayce awkwardly watching you. Shuffling in place like he didn’t know what he was supposed to be doing.

“Get in here, Talis.” You motioned for him to join you.

He padded over to your bed, then laid down beside you. A small smile on his face as he watched you in content bliss.

“It’s so nice to just sink in.” You sighed.

“I take it the brownie has hit?”

You nodded with a hum. Allowing yourself to enjoy the pleasant buzz in your head.

Reaching out, you grabbed Jayce’s hand. He intertwined his fingers with yours and you let out another sigh.

“You have really nice hands.” You lifted his hand above your face, studying it. “So warm. They’re working hands,” you traced the calluses at the top of his palm, “but somehow still soft. Yes, very nice hands.” You hummed bringing his palm to your lips and placing a tender kiss in the center.

Mouth agape, Jayce stared at you wide eyed. A red flush dusting his cheeks.

Looking at him, you gave him a sweet smile. One he couldn’t help but return.

Even though you were holding his hand, the distance between you felt too far. Jayce wrapped his free arm around you, pulling you closer to him. Nose to nose, you giggled. This felt… really nice. Humming, you nuzzled your nose against his. The adorable action made him blush even harder.

Damn, you sure got physical when high. Not that he minded.

“Jayce…” You mumbled, then pressed yourself into the space beneath his chin. Your face pushed into his chest. “You’re soooo warm.”

“I think you’re higher than I am.”

Shrugging your shoulders you nuzzled into his chest. The man curled his arms tighter around you. Leaning his head down, he pressed a warm kiss onto your forehead.

“This feels really nice.” You murmured.

The comforting sinking returned. Feeling your body go heavy as you slumped into the man. Almost like you were going to meld with him.

Jayce’s skin was buzzing. Your touch feels ten times more intense than normal. As you curled up into the man, your hands roamed over him. Trailing up his torso and neck, fingers curling into his hair. Slowly they skimmed back down his arms. A pattern of movements that had him shivering against you. God, did it feel amazing.

“I really like that…” He said softly, kissing your forehead again.

“Mmm, yeah?” You gave him a dazed smile.

“Yeah.”

Your hands returned to his hair. Fingers scraping against his scalp, making him let out a low groan.

“You’re like a puppy.” You giggled to yourself as you continued to pet him. “So cute.”

“A puppy?” He questioned.

“Yeah. The way you’re responding to my pets. And you have puppy-dog eyes.”

“Puppy-dog eyes?” He gave you a confused look, head cocked to the side. Looking exactly like a confused dog.

Giggling again, you snuggled as close as you could to the man.

“Puppy-dog eyes that convinced me to get high with you.” You poked him in the chest. “They’re dangerous.”

He chuckled, puffs of air hitting the top of your head.

“Dangerous.”

“Exactly. So use them for good next time.” You admonished him with a finger.

“Is this not something good?”

Pondering on it, you shrugged.

“I’m not complaining, I suppose.” You gave him a sweet smile.

“Anything I can do to make it better?”

“I dunno. You got any ideas?” You gave him a sultry look.

He licked his lips nervously, eyes darting between your own and your lips. Leaning up, you pressed your nose against his. Lips just barely brushing against his. Looking into his eyes expectantly, you spoke softly.

“Well?”

Warm lips crashed into yours messily. The man moaned as soon as he pressed against you. Every fiber of his body on fire when you pressed your lips against his. Teasingly, you lightly lapped against his bottom lip. Jayce slightly opened his mouth, inviting your tongue to tangle with his. You slid your tongue into his mouth, groaning at his taste.

His hands roamed over your body. Appreciating the fact you wore nothing under your comfy pjs. Large fingers pinched your nipples over your clothes. You squeaked at the sudden sparks of pleasurable pain. He swallowed the sound, moaning against you. He was rutting against your thigh, making you feel the prominent bulge straining against his sweats.

Pausing for a breath, you slightly pushed away, looking over him. This probably shouldn’t go further. Although there was a burning ache in your groin, you knew that going into this high wasn’t the smartest decision. But you didn’t really make a smart decision on the brownies while sober… so perhaps the night was one ready for many mistakes. Though you didn’t feel like hooking up with Jayce was a mistake. It could be for him though, you wouldn’t hold that against him.

“Is everything okay?” He wanted to pull you back to him.

“Uh, yeah. I just don’t know if we should continue. I wouldn’t want you to regret anything.” You looked away from him, embarrassed.

“I could never regret anything with you.” His eyes pleaded with you, hips shaking as he did his best not to rut himself against you again.

His words made your heart swell, a blush flushing on your cheeks. Pushing yourself back in, you gave him a deep kiss. Fuck it. You wanted this, your body was making you feel like you needed this.

“I’ll take it you’re okay with us continuing?”

“Oh fuck yes.” You pressed your lips against his again, earning you a deep moan.

Jayce returned to rubbing up against your thigh. Letting out little whimpers at the friction against his hard cock. Feeling his length against you had you drooling at the thought of him inside of you. Through the fabric of his pants you could feel how long and thick he was. It would be a stretch, but you wanted all of the man in front of you.

“C-can I taste you?” Jayce pulled back for a breath. “I really want you to sit on my face.”

That had you flushing furiously.

“Are you sure?” You asked softly. A part of you was concerned about hurting him.

“Yes. I want- no. I need it.”

You nodded, agreeing. He beamed at you before shuffling your bodies on the bed. Rolling himself beneath you. You were straddling his waist and felt the head of his cock through his pants brush against your clothed sex. You whimpered at the friction.

Jayce reached for your sleep shorts, eyes asking for permission. Nodding, you maneuvered your legs to help him remove the article. After tossing them, he turned to look at you. Groaning at the shiny slick coating your pussy and thighs. Lifting you up, he encouraged you to crawl to his face. Obliging, you made your way above him. Holding onto the headboard, you slowly lowered yourself over him. Large arms encircled your thighs, forcing you onto his waiting mouth. The sudden action makes you cry out.

With a warm tongue, Jayce licked a stripe down your pussy. Your body was buzzing and sensitive with your high, making the pleasure more intense. Lapping through your folds, Jayce was making you release noises you had never known you could make before. Each whine and moan shot straight to his straining cock. Twitching impatiently as he made you fall apart on his tongue.

You had to use the headboard to stabilize yourself. Around his head, your thighs were shaking as pure pleasure coursed through your body. Warmth was growing in your belly with each tantalizing lick against your clit.

Beneath you, Jayce groaned. You were fucking delicious. He felt like he could stay under you for hours. Hearing the sounds you were making made him wish he could just hold you pressed against his tongue.

“C-close!” You squeaked out.

Jayce had begun flicking his tongue against you quickly. Each flick builds up your climax. With how sensitive you were, it would only be a matter of time before you burst. His tongue continued to flick against you rapidly. At this point, your entire body was shaking with the build of your orgasm. One perfectly placed swirl against your clit was your undoing.

Practically screaming, you came on his face. Squirting over his chin with the force that your orgasm hit you. Between your squeezing thighs, Jayce thought he died and went to heaven. Oh he would gladly die squished in your plush thighs, your taste filling his senses.

He only gave you a brief moment before his mouth was back on you.

“Jayce!” You squealed as he overstimulated your cunt.

It seemed like he didn’t need to breathe as he continued to eat you out with fervor. Tongue tasting every inch of you, occasionally pushing into you. You could barely keep your body up as the shaking grew stronger. Your climax rapidly grows with each lap against your sopping pussy.

With a shaky hand, you reach for the top of his head. Fingers curling into his hair. The feeling made him moan against you.

This time, your orgasm hit you like a train. Crashing through your entire body with a giant wave of pleasure. Above him you twitched and whimpered as his tongue continued to lick you. Eventually you pressed your hand against his forehead, making him let you go.

“T-too much, Jayce!” You whined.

Sliding off of his face, you flopped belly down onto the bed. Jayce eyed your bare ass and legs, licking his lips with anticipation. He slid behind and over you. Turning to watch him, you felt your thighs clench. Flopping against his belly was probably the most enticing cock you had ever seen. Tip flushed an angry red, just begging to be fucked.

Jayce looked at you, the hunger in his gaze making you shiver. Wiggling your hips, you urged him to continue. He spread your legs, and pressed down on your back. You lifted your hips, whining impatiently.

Because of that, Jayce decided to tease you. Dragging his cock between your folds. Gathering up your ever-accumulating slick dripping out of you. His cock caught on your entrance, making you whimper. Fuck, you needed him to fill you. You felt like you were floating and sinking at the same time. A pleasurable bliss that was about to get better.

Slowly, Jayce pressed himself into you. Thick cock stretching you out deliciously. Both of you moaned as he continued to push his length inside. His cock brushing against the gummy spot that had you keening.

“That feel good?” He leaned his body over yours, murmuring into your ear.

It felt too good. You couldn’t form a coherent sentence. Instead, you decided to nod vigorously. Hoping he would move inside you.

“Mmm, good.” He crooned, pulling out slowly then slamming back into you.

Your whole body jolted with pleasure as his cock began to abuse your sweet spot. Head of his length continuing to hit it over and over again. Clutching the bedsheets you were a sobbing mess. The oversensitivity from your high mixed with the pure pleasure the man was giving you caused tears to prick at the corners of your eyes.

“J-Jayce!” You cried out and one very intense thrust.

“F-fuck,” he released a stuttering breath against your neck. “Please cum, please cum for me. I need to feel you. So fucking bad.” He nuzzled into your shoulder.

Jayce would soon be getting his wish. An intense pleasure was blooming within you, making you gasp and moan. This man was making you feel like an overstimulated puddle. Each press of his cock makes the pleasure grow tenfold. Your entire body was ready to shatter.

And shatter you did. Jayce’s cock thrusting in and out of you, draggin your orgasm along with it. Your pussy clenched his cock, drenching your bed sheets as you came.

Jayce groaned, but held himself back. He needed to feel you do that at least one more time.

You whined when he pulled out of you, then yelped when he flipped you over. A brief moment of soberness had you remembering that he was actually really strong. Then your stoned brain chimed in with how fucking hot it was that he was manhandling you so desperately.

He had you on your back, legs hooked over his shoulders. As he pressed back into your wet heat, he gave you a sloppy kiss. The two of you catching eachother’s moans of pleasure. He pushed up your shirt to your shoulders. Warm hands cupped your breasts, teasing over your nipples. The action makes you shiver all over.

His hands moved to your waist to give him more leverage. Fast thrust pummeled the sweet spot within you. Jayce managed to hit it perfectly in this position too. Crying out, you felt a sting of pleasure. Thick fingers were circling your abused clit, sending sparks shooting through your body. Moans and whimpers escaping you with each circle. Your hands clenched his biceps for purchase as your body shook.

He could feel your pussy pulsing around him. Another climax building inside you. He chased your high, wanting to cum with you. Knowing he could burst at any moment, Jayce hoped you would join him. The tightness in his balls was growing a bit too unbearable.

As if your body was answering his wish, he felt you clench against his length. Unconsciously thrusting your hips as you chase down your orgasm. A scream of pleasure ripping out of you as you gushed around him.

Warmth filled you as Jayce was granted his release. Cock twitching deep inside you as hot ropes of his cum poured in. A pleasurable feeling that seemed never ending. Jayce’s orgasm lasted long after he had fully unloaded in you. Cock overstimulated with the feeling of your tight twitching walls around him.

Both of you came down from your orgasm highs. Still extremely high from the brownies. Something that could easily be read based on your drooping eyelids and dopey smiles. Before pulling out, Jayce kissed all over your face. You giggled as his lips pecked all over your cheeks.

“That was amazing.” He purred against your neck, giving you a kiss. “You are amazing.”

“You feel sososososo good, Jayce.” You pressed a kiss to his lips.

With a groan, Jayce pulled out of you. His eyes transfixed on your pussy now dripping out his spend.

“That’s hot.” He looked up, chuckling at your confused expression.

Kissing your forehead, he stood up.

“I’ll get us cleaned up.”

After a moment, Jayce returned with a wet washcloth. Softly he wiped you down. You softly thanked him for helping you. He responded with a sweet kiss.

When you were both cleaned up, Jayce returned to snuggle up in your bed. Large warm arms held you close to him. You felt yourself drifting as Jayce spoke to you softly. The man letting out a stream of compliments and fond memories. Occasionally he would kiss you, feeling like he was drowning in your lips.

“We should do this again.” Jayce said softly.

“Yeah? Yeah.” You giggled, answering yourself.

“Though I think we could skip the brownies next time.”

#a99jazzybean #jayce arcane x reader #jayce talis #jayce arcane #arcane #arcane fanfic #modern au #fanfic request

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