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ginnsbaker · 4 months

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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (12/?)

Part Summary: You know Leigh well enough to recognize that she never acts without intention. She must have agonized about this too—about that kiss, about you. And she's making it difficult for you to guess just what conclusions she had come to in the time you were apart.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 6.500+ | Warnings: Smut | Author's note: I honestly don't know what else to write in the summary without giving too much away, so without further ado… P.S. No cliffhangers this time ;)

A week after Thanksgiving, as the icy Maine wind whips across the tarmac at Rockland Airport, you find yourself holding a container of lobster cakes—your mother's way of sending a piece of home back with you. Despite her protests about you cutting your visit short, she spent last night in the kitchen, crafting your favorite dish, the smell of butter and ocean filling the house. “Eat these when you miss home,” she had said, pressing the container into your hands with a sad smile. The decision to leave early was anything but easy.

You initially planned to stay five more days in Camden, but Leigh's radio silence prompted you to book a direct flight to Los Angeles. It was eating you up inside; you had to go back. The familiar dark screen of your phone kept you on edge; you hadn't expected Leigh to strictly follow through on her promise not to contact you. She had a way of doing the unexpected. Or maybe you've been so wrapped up in your thoughts that you underestimated how deeply she wanted you that night. And perhaps you've overestimated your own anger, believing it would even slightly lessen your feelings for her.

Sitting in the window seat with the whole row to yourself, you stare at your phone as the flight attendant's voice crackles over the intercom, signaling it's time to switch to airplane mode. Impulsively, you tap out a text to her.

Belated Happy Thanksgiving, Leigh. If you’re free tomorrow evening, maybe we could talk? Perhaps over dinner?

It’s straightforward, maybe too much so, but it’s sent before you can overthink it.

The flight attendant's voice fills the cabin once more, reminding everyone to switch their devices as the plane is about to take off. You comply, toggling the setting and sealing off any immediate replies. The engines roar to life, and as the plane ascends, you try to push away the knot of apprehension tightening in your stomach.

As you wait to fall asleep, you think about Leigh—whether she’s seen your message and what she might be feeling. You wonder about the time apart, recalling the old saying that distance makes the heart grow fonder.

Or does it make it forget instead?

You touch down in L.A. just as the date ticks over to December 1st, the clock a little past midnight. The moment the plane reaches the gate, you grab your phone and switch off airplane mode. There's a message from your mom, checking in to see if you've landed safely, and you text her back to let her know you did. Suzie has also texted, saying Foreman called in sick and asking if you can cover at the clinic later. You shoot back a quick reply, saying you just landed, you'll catch some sleep, and might be in late in the morning.

But there’s nothing from Leigh. No text, no missed call, nothing to indicate she received your message or is interested in meeting.

You sigh and, without thinking, tap her name on the screen. The call goes through, and the phone rings as you make your way through the late-night crowd at LAX. It continues ringing, unanswered, until it finally clicks over to voicemail. You mutter a soft curse under your breath. Of course, she's not going to pick up—it's 12:30 in the morning. You consider sending a quick apology text but then reconsider, figuring you've already pushed enough boundaries by calling her this late.

Instead, you slide your phone back into your pocket and head toward baggage claim. You weave through the half-awake travelers and the sterile glow of the airport lights, finally spotting your suitcase trundling along the carousel. You heft it off and make your way through the automatic doors. You glance one more time at your phone, half hoping for a notification, but it's blank. With a sigh, you head for the exit, feeling the exhaustion settle in.

You check your inbox first thing in the morning, but there's still nothing from Leigh. You don't have time to overanalyze this again because you're already running late for work.

The whole day is swamped, with emergencies piling up alongside a packed schedule of immunizations and follow-ups. Suzie mistakenly booked an entire week's worth of scheduled vaccines for today, a Saturday. She explains that the clients requested to move their appointments to the weekend, adding, “We're closed on Sundays, so I thought today would work.”

You try to hide your frustration, not wanting to lay the blame on her. Your nerves are already frayed, and every hour that passes without a word from Leigh has you feeling more on edge. As you tend to your patients and give instructions to the staff, you feel the pressure building, a headache beginning to throb behind your eyes. The never-ending stream of clients leaves you with no time to catch your breath. Between each appointment, you plaster on a polite smile, but inside, you're counting down the minutes until you can check out of, well, everything.

As the clock hits seven, you can't take another minute. The clinic has been a madhouse since the doors opened. You barely glance at Suzie as you callously tell her, “Close early. I'm tired.” Without waiting for her response, you trudge straight to your office and slump into your chair, eyes closed against the harsh fluorescent lights. Resting your head back, you exhale slowly, letting the tension drain from your shoulders. The fatigue wraps itself around you like a fog, and for a moment, everything falls away.

A few minutes later, you hear a gentle knock. It's Suzie, standing in the doorway with a paper in her hand. Without opening your eyes, you mutter, “What is it?” Your irritation seeps through, but you’re too drained to rein it in.

Suzie hesitates before stepping into your office, her expression unreadable. She extends the paper towards you. “It's my resignation letter,” she says quietly.

Your eyes snap open, and the paper feels heavier than it should as you take it from her hands. You’ve been nothing short of awful to her all day, snapping at every turn.

“Is this about today?” you ask.

She gives you a small, weary smile and points to the date on the letter. “I wrote this last week, right after you left for Maine.”

You glance down at the letter and see that it’s dated exactly a week ago. “Why didn’t you give it to me sooner?”

“I didn’t want to ruin your vacation,” she says softly. “I know how much you needed that break. And honestly, you’ve got enough on your plate right now without me adding to it.”

You can feel the burn of frustration and shame behind your eyes. “You’ve been a rock here, Suzie. I don’t want you to go. Please reconsider.”

She shakes her head gently. “I’ve thought this through. It’s time. I care about this place, and about you, but I need to move on.”

You let out a long breath. “I see. Still, I'm sorry today was so rough,” you say, looking up at her wistfully. You try working your puppy eyes, and for a moment it seems effective as her expression softens into a frown.

But then she says, “It’s not the clinic or the work I do here. I got an offer for a research position; it's something I've always wanted to try.”

That makes you smile. If that’s the case, then you’re truly happy for her.

“I understand. I wish you hadn't felt the need to keep this to yourself, especially with everything else happening today,” you say, still clutching the paper tightly in your hand, crumpling it slightly.

Suzie shrugs. “I didn't want to add to your stress. Don’t worry, I’ll count the 30 days' notice from today, not the date on my resignation, so you have time to find someone to replace me.”

From that, you know her mind’s already made up. As you read her letter again, your eyes start to sting. You glance back up at her, your vision blurring. “Suzie, thank you,” you mumble thickly.

“Hey, it's okay,” she says gently. “I'm not leaving town. We can still grab lunch whenever. I know how glued to your desk you get, so I'll drag you out for a bite now and then.” You let out a shaky chuckle, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

“It's just—I’m going to miss you, and I don’t know how I'll replace you,” you say with a sniffle.

“Missing me is a given,” she says, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. “Actually, I might know someone interested in my job.”

Your ears perk up at that. Good help is hard to find these days, especially with more demands from applicants and a tight job market. “Who?” you ask, curious.

Suzie turns around as if she's going to leave without answering, but then she glances over her shoulder, her smirk widening. “Sara.”

A little while later, you catch Suzie just as she's finishing up in the lobby.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll lock up. You’ve done enough today,” you say, sending her home. She gives you a grateful smile, slings her bag over her shoulder, and wishes you a good night before heading out.

Finally alone, you take a moment to decompress. Clasping your hands behind your back, you stretch, trying to release the day's tension. A dull ache climbs up your spine, reminding you how tight your muscles are. Unable to hold the position for more than a few seconds, you relax, the discomfort too much to bear. It's hard to tell whether it's from the long-haul flight yesterday, your age creeping up on you, poor posture, or all of the above.

On a whim, you book a late-night yoga session at the Beautiful Beast, hoping to relieve the tightness in your back. It’s been a while since your last visit.

Afterward, you head to the small bathroom in your office to get ready. It's basic, not meant for much more than washing hands and changing scrubs, but it’s all you've got. Stripping off your day's clothes, you step into the shower, letting the hot water beat down on your back. The steam fills the tiny space, and the heat melts a bit of the stiffness away. After a quick rinse, you towel off and slip into your yoga gear. The stretchy fabric feels liberating after being in stiff work clothes all day. You roll up your yoga mat, tucked behind the office door, and switch off the bathroom light.

As you're about to head out of the clinic, you check your phone, hoping to see something from Leigh. There's nothing—she hasn’t even read your last message. The stonewalling feels all too familiar, and you're tired of it.

You slide into your car, letting out a weary sigh. As you start the engine, thoughts of Suzie's suggestion to hire Sara sneak back into your mind. You can't help but chortle at the idea—it’s so unexpected, almost comical, considering how you know Sara and her standing friends-with-benefits proposition. It feels far-fetched, and knowing Suzie, she was likely just teasing.

The drive to the fitness studio is as mechanical as it gets. You're hardly aware of the turns you take until you park in front of the building. You step out, mind still elsewhere, and open your car door—right into someone walking by.

“Ow!”

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—” you start to say, cutting yourself off when you see who it is.

Leigh, of all people, is rubbing her elbow, wincing. Her hair is tied back in a ponytail, and she’s wearing a plain white shirt under a jacket, paired with simple black tights.

“See me? Lovely excuse,” she quips, her eyes fixed on her arm rather than you. Her expression is primed to unleash more frustration when she finally turns to meet the source of the blunder.

“I—” Leigh stops, visibly surprised to see you. Quickly, her face smooths into something more neutral. “Y/N. You…you really should watch it.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you say, rubbing the back of your neck. “Are you alright?”

She rubs her elbow once more, then nods slowly. “Just startled me a bit, but I’m fine.”

Once you both regain your bearings, you unconsciously begin rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet, hesitating despite the things you’ve rehearsed in your head all week. Your text message inviting her to meet tonight lingers at the forefront of your mind. But before you can bring it up, Leigh catches you by surprise.

“So, you’re heading in for a class?” she asks casually, as if the last time you saw each other didn’t end with a kiss and a confrontation that put the aforementioned kiss on hold.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I am,” you reply. Then you remember Leigh doesn't work here anymore, but with her mother owning the place, it's no surprise to see her around occasionally.

Still, you ask, “How about you?”

“You mind if we walk while we talk?” Leigh suggests.

You nod, a little thrown off but managing to say, “Sure, just let me grab my stuff.”

She waits a few seconds as you gather your belongings, and then you both start walking toward the building. Leigh sets a brisk pace, always a step ahead, and you find yourself almost hurrying to keep up with her.

“I just got back to working here again,” she says after a beat.

Surprised, you ask, “Oh, how did that happen?”

“Long story,” she replies with a slight shrug, her eyes focused ahead.

Unsatisfied with her vague answer, your eyes drift to her lips. Memories of that last kiss flood back—their soft, velvety feel and that distinct taste that’s all hers, like fresh water after a long, grueling hike. It's a taste that's unmistakably Leigh, nothing else like it. As you walk together, you struggle to stay present. This isn’t at all how you pictured your reunion with her would go. Not by a long shot.

“Leigh,” you call out, stopping abruptly. Your voice comes out higher than intended, quivering a bit. You clear your throat and try again, “D-Did you get my text yesterday?”

Leigh glances back over her shoulder, her expression unreadable. “No.”

The bluntness leaves you momentarily stunned. You wait for her to follow up, to ask about the text, but she doesn’t. As you both step into the Beautiful Beast studio, you start to ask if you can talk later, but Leigh gets there first.

“We can pick this up later, Y/N. We should really get to class,” she says, heading into the room full of waiting students without waiting for your answer.

You're left more stumped than ever. Last time, she was almost on her knees, begging for forgiveness. Now, she's acting like nothing happened. How did everything change so much in just a week? With a head full of questions and doubts, you roll out your yoga mat and try to focus on the practice ahead. You can't help but wonder if the kiss you shared with Leigh really happened or if it was just a mirage of your desires.

You struggle through some of the poses, wobbling and nearly toppling over more than once. Leigh, however, doesn't chide or correct you as she used to; she mostly leaves you alone, focusing instead on helping others who are struggling more than you. It makes you feel strangely isolated, even though you know she's just fulfilling her role as an instructor and there are plenty of beginners in tonight’s session.

As the hour winds down, Leigh's soft “Namaste” signals the end of the class. She bows gracefully to the students, and you don't waste a moment, rising immediately to make your way to her as she rolls up her mat.

“Leigh.”

“Hey,” she responds breathlessly, not looking up. Other students pass by, thanking her, and she responds with smiles and cheerful “see you next times.” You stand there, feeling awkward as you wait for a turn.

When the last person leaves, Leigh finally looks up at you. “What's up?” she asks.

You find yourself stuttering, still fixated on the text message. Feeling a bit pathetic about how much it’s affecting you, but you shake it off, remembering why you cut your visit to Camden short. It was because of this—because of her.

“Leigh, can we talk? About... you know, how we left things that night?”

Her face remains jarringly impartial as she wipes down her mat. “Talk? Here? Right now?”

You quickly shake your head. “No, I don't mean right this second,” you clarify, watching her closely to gauge her reaction. Are you the only one feeling like you're on a tightrope?

“You haven't had dinner yet, right?” You try to sound nonchalant too, but it's a struggle.

She looks around the emptying studio as if she needs a moment to consider. After a few beats, she nods. “Sure, why not? I’ll just change and meet you out front.”

You can't help but smile, mainly out of relief that she said yes. “Great, see you in a minute,” you say, realizing you need to change into drier clothes too.

Fifteen minutes later, Leigh steps out, looking refreshed as if she didn't just burn through a few hundred calories leading a rigorous yoga session. She's wearing a cozy gray sweater and cargo pants, a much more laid-back look compared to your jeans and cardigan.

As she draws near, she tilts her head slightly and says, “I actually brought a car. Have you thought of where we're going to get dinner?”

You scramble to think of a suitable place. In-N-Out pops into your head—quick, easy, but completely wrong for the kind of talk you need to have. You can't imagine hashing out your feelings under the harsh lights of a fast food place, over burgers and fries.

“Um,” you stammer, looking around like inspiration might hit you in the face.

“How about we head to your apartment?” Leigh suggests out of nowhere. “It's closer, and we could grab some drive-thru on the way.”

You blink at her suggestion, surprised she'd even consider it after everything that went down last time at your place.

“There's only one parking spot,” you say blankly. “And the street has no parking after 10 p.m.”

Leigh seems unfazed, offering a quick solution. “Then we’ll just take your car. I can leave mine here.”

Your nerves flare at the thought of having her back in your apartment. Your tongue feels heavy, and you can't think of a single reason to tell her why it’s a bad idea.

“Okay,” you say slowly. “Let's do that.”

You head to your car together, fumbling with the keys as you unlock it. Leigh slips into the passenger seat, and you take a deep breath before starting the engine. You pull into a drive-thru of In-N-Out and Leigh scrolls through her phone, picking out what to order.

You know Leigh well enough to recognize that she never acts without intention. She must have agonized about this too—about that kiss, about you. And she's making it difficult for you to guess just what conclusions she had come to in the time you were apart.

The takeout is spread across your dining table, a small feast that Leigh ordered for the two of you. Boxes of fries, nuggets, and burgers crowd the surface, enough to feed a group. You barely nibble on a fry while Leigh is already finishing her cheeseburger, wiping her fingers with a napkin and eyeing the remaining food.

“You weren’t hungry, huh?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Guess not,” you reply, wiping away the residual salt from your fingers.

Leigh takes a sip of her drink, washing down the last bite before looking at you with purpose. “Mind if I go first?” she asks.

You narrow your eyes. So, she's eager to dive right in. “Sure, go ahead,” you say. You observe Leigh closely for the first time in what feels like ages. Concealer cakes beneath her eyes, settling into the natural wrinkles there. She’s still undeniably beautiful, but there's a tiredness to her now that’s hard to miss. Her cheeks, usually lifted by her prominent cheekbones, seem hollowed out more than usual.

“I guess I want to start by saying that I'm…” Leigh trails off, her eyes darting around as if the right words might be hidden among the packets of ketchup and silverware. “...a horrible person.”

You open your mouth to protest, but she cuts you off smoothly.

“No, listen. You were right. I ignore you out of nowhere. I take advantage of your kindness. And it’s not just you—I’ve been doing this with everyone around me for a while now. I haven't cared about what others think or feel because I was focused on being true to myself, always playing the ‘dead husband’ card. I’ve taken everyone's patience and understanding for granted, and I’m really, really sorry.”

You sit back, stunned. The whole evening, you'd braced for a different kind of conversation. You expected Leigh to say the kiss was a mistake—just a result of nerves or a lapse in judgment driven by jealousy. You had been so sure she'd shut you down, just like all the other times.

“You're sorry?” The words slip out unbidden, tinged with surprise and skepticism.

“Yeah,” she says, looking you square in the eye. “I know it's hard to believe, but I really am sorry for how I've treated you.”

It’s going well—too well. Your mind struggles to accept it, but your heart?

“I thought you were going to say that night was a mistake. That the kiss meant nothing,” you whisper so faintly, almost as if you don't want her to hear.

“It kept me up for nights,” Leigh replies just as softly, “and that doesn’t usually happen to me over a simple kiss.”

Your heart soars.

She doesn’t regret it. She’s sorry. This is all going too well.

“It was on my mind the whole time, even when I was all the way across the country,” you whisper wantonly.

The corners of Leigh’s lips twitch upward, and you can't tell if it's a good sign. Her saying she’s just as affected blinds you to any other cues that might suggest otherwise.

“There’s something else I need to tell you,” Leigh says darkly, leaning back into her chair with a weary slump. “Because I’m done living in half-truths and half-realities. I can’t handle any more surprises.”

You feel a flash of confusion, trying to stitch together what Leigh might say next. She knows about your cheesy alter-ego on her advice column, the details of your past with Matt. But half-truths? What does she mean by that?

Leigh meets your gaze, and there’s something about her stare that tells you she’s coming apart, yet she's clenching every muscle to keep herself intact. You want to reach across the table, to offer a touch that might steady her, but her hands are hidden, clenched in her lap beneath the table. Her shoulders hunch, making her seem smaller, as if she's trying to fold into herself.

“Leigh, just tell me,” you urge, though not impatiently.

She exhales slowly, the breath you hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “I broke up with Danny,” she finally says, and for a brief, absurd moment, relief washes over you.

That's…it?

Your smile starts to form, naive in its inception, but it’s quickly stifled as Leigh’s voice drops lower, and her next words cut through the nascent joy.

“And then he said something I didn't think could drive the dagger Matt left in my heart any deeper,” she says slowly, like she’s having a hard time dragging every syllable.

Leigh takes a deep breath, her chest rising and falling deliberately. “He told me he was pretty involved when you and Matt got together. That you first knew him as Nick, and he helped Matt reach out to you.”

Your heart sinks. You had almost forgotten that night with Danny when you discovered his real identity and how he fit into everything. He'd begged you to keep quiet, and in his desperation, you agreed—not because he pleaded, but because you believed Leigh was happy with him. It wasn’t your secret to reveal, not then.

You've known this all along and never said a word. Your throat tightens as panic sets in, your heart racing with the implications of having kept this from Leigh. Guilt pricks at you, cold and sharp.

“I…” Your voice falters, and you swallow hard, thinking, This is it, this is how I lose her.

“I didn’t think it was my place to say anything,” you say. “I thought you were happy with him. I didn’t want to be the one to—”

“Y/N,” Leigh interjects softly. Her tone stops you cold—it's not angry, just… defeated. Which, somehow, feels worse. She looks down, twisting a napkin between her fingers. “I’m telling you this because I’m finding out that secrets can be just as hard to handle as loss.”

You nod absentmindedly, still processing, and move to clear the table in a daze. Wrapping up the leftover food, you tuck it into the fridge. The mundane task doesn't ease the tightness in your chest, but it gives your hands something to do.

“You’re not upset I didn’t tell you?” you ask, like you can’t believe you’ll come out of this conversation unscathed.

Leigh takes her time to answer. With your focus on tidying up, you miss the way her hands ball into fists. When she finally speaks, her voice has a steely edge for the first time this evening.

“At first, I was livid, of course. But Danny bore the brunt of it. He claimed he wanted me, but he was never on my side. If he were, he would’ve never helped Matt cheat on me.”

You finish tucking the last container into the fridge and lean back against the counter, your eyes on Leigh. She's staring out the window. How is it that she’s telling you these things, yet it still feels like she’s not revealing anything at all?

“I should’ve told you sooner,” you say softly. “I’m sorry.”

Leigh gets up and walks toward you. She stops so close that your breath catches. You remember the last time she was this near, how the world blurred, and how hard it was to think clearly. You can see the way her jaw tightens as she takes a breath.

“It wasn’t your secret to tell,” she says.

“But—” you start to say, though the thought fizzles out as she steps even closer.

“You're okay in that regard,” she murmurs, her voice low.

In that regard?

You want to ask what she means, but Leigh shuffles nearer still, her eyes searching your face. She's so close now that you can see the faint reflection of the kitchen light in her eyes, specs of yellow in darkened green. It’s nothing short of dazzling.

“Do you forgive me for last time?” she asks quietly.

A lump forms in your throat, and all you can think about is how desperately you don't want to mess this up. You had forgiven her long before stepping onto a plane back to Maine. It happened as soon as you let her walk away that night, but you just couldn't accept how easy it was.

You nod, unable to trust your ability to speak.

Leigh's eyes soften as she watches you. Her fingertips brush against your jaw, her touch feather-light.

“Is it okay if I kiss you, then?” she asks, both careful and seductive.

Your resounding yes comes in the form of you closing the gap, your lips meeting hers like an arrow striking its target. Leigh’s arms wrap around your shoulders instinctively, her fingers brushing the back of your neck, and you pull her in even tighter, deepening the kiss. Her breath mingles with yours as she sighs softly against your mouth, and it’s only then that when you feel all of her that Los Angeles starts to feel like a second home.

There are still questions, an unending list that always surfaces around Leigh, but they evaporate one by one when her tongue flicks out, seeking entrance. You surrender, lips parting, allowing her to taste you. The kiss grows with a messy urgency in seconds. Her hands roam down your back, gripping tightly as she presses in, as if trying to melt into you. You draw her nearer, your chests flush together as the kiss becomes wet and breathless.

Your apartment is silent except for your soft pants and the slick sounds of your lips meeting. Doubts about your ability to please a woman creep in after such a long hiatus. But before these thoughts can take hold, Leigh takes charge. She grabs your hips and gently guides you backward toward the bedroom, cutting off any chance for you to slow things down.

She breaks the kiss just long enough to slip your cardigan off your shoulders and whisper, her breath warm against your lips, “Should we take this somewhere more comfortable?”

It seems almost unfair for her to pose that question while simultaneously moving to your neck, drawing a soft groan from you. Her teeth gently graze a sensitive spot just below your clavicle, applying pressure that promises to leave a mark, then soothing it with her tongue.

Leigh smirks when she feels you struggle for breath, much less for words. Your knees buckle slightly, but she holds you up with a firm grip, guiding you back until you bump against the edge of the bed.

You know you're on the verge of something that might change everything, but right now, you're entirely Leigh's. There's no space to consider the implications, to remember that she was Matt's grieving widow just months ago. Right now, she's just the girl who holds your attention completely, the one who couldn't get rid of you even if she tried.

Leigh tumbles with you onto the bed, her thighs straddling your hips. With practiced ease, she removes her shirt and bra all at once, leaving her bare above you. The sight strips you of any last coherent thought. She isn’t the image of perfection peddled in glossy and well-curated social feeds; her body is beautifully real. Her tits look heavy and asymmetrical, round as grapefruit; her nipples pinkish-brown, pebbled and inviting. There’s a soft fold in her belly, and an overwhelming desire washes over you to kiss it. You think you might die just from looking at her.

You look up at Leigh and tell her, reverently, “You’re so devastatingly beautiful.”

Leigh's cheeks flush as she tries to hide her smile behind her hair. “You don't have to tell me that,” she whispers. “You already got me into your bed.”

You chuckle, nerves still humming under the surface. “You were just as beautiful when devouring a cheeseburger.” Both of you laugh, the sound light and easy, allowing some of the thick sexual energy to dissipate slightly.

You find yourself relaxing just enough to admit, “I'm not sure how to touch you right, but I want to make you feel good.”

“Just do whatever feels good for you,” she suggests, her expression softening further.

You scrunch your face a little at her, letting out a small chuckle. “That’s the thing—I haven't been getting much action myself.”

Leigh’s smile spreads wider into something mischievous and you swallow dryly at the sight. She shifts off your lap and settles at your side, propping herself up on one arm to look down at you. “Let me help you with that,” she murmurs, her voice low.

You're no longer smiling, feeling your face flush as you ask, “What do you have in mind?”

Instead of answering, Leigh’s fingers trace down to the button of your pants, deftly unfastening it. She gently scratches the skin beneath with her fingernail before sliding the zipper down. You watch as she bites her lip at the sight of the wet patch on your underwear before glancing back up at you. Her pupils are wide, the deep green of her irises barely visible in the surrounding darkness.

“Take them off,” she instructs softly.

You swallow heavily and do as she says, trying not to cover yourself despite feeling incredibly vulnerable. You haven't been naked in front of anyone in so long, and you're embarrassed by how exposed and wet you are right now.

Leigh watches you closely, and you can see the desire burning in her gaze. With her free hand, she reaches for you, her touch gentle, coaxing your thighs open as she trails her fingers up your inner thigh. You draw a sharp breath and close your eyes, expecting her fingers to graze your wetness next.

But Leigh surprises you—and herself—by guiding your right hand just below your navel, her fingers warm and sure on your wrist. Her times with Danny were about dominating and taking, but with you, she wants to give, to watch, to soak up every moan, every breathy reaction, every shiver. She wants to see you take pleasure for yourself, deriving her own pleasure from it.

“Start there,” she murmurs, her breath hot against your ear. “Tease yourself.”

Your hand hovers there, and she gives a slight nod of encouragement. As her touch slips away, you begin to explore the softness of your own skin, tracing light circles below your belly button. You utter a soft, “Fuck,” when your fingertips graze your slick, discovering just how turned on you really are. The filthy noises it creates make you whimper.

Leigh watches you hungrily. “You should be doing this more often,” she murmurs, eyes tracing the movement of your fingers now glistening with your own arousal. “You're so fucking hot. It's such a shame.”

The sound of her voice makes you arch your back further, hips bucking as you start a wide circular motion against your clit. Exerting every ounce of control not to come right away, you focus on the sensation of Leigh's eyes on you and the stimulation from your own fingers. You want to hold out, to let her watch you teeter on the edge. Your teeth dig into your lower lip, trying to curb the wave of pleasure building inside you.

Leigh's voice is a soothing command, whispering, “That's it, be patient. Don't rush it.”

“Fuck, Leigh, I’m—” Your words die in your throat as she lifts your shirt slowly, exposing your nipple to the cool air for a brief moment before her mouth engulfs it. The sensation of her sucking, then laving your nipple with her tongue, circling it, mimicking the motion you're doing on your clit, sends a jolt through you. Little flicks of her tongue to the tip of your nipple drive you crazy, and you gasp, your body responding eagerly to her touch.

Your rhythm stutters as she discards her pants and panties in one swift motion, leaving her gloriously bare. The sight of her naked body ignites a strong wave of desire to touch her instead, but Leigh pins you with a warning glare, silently telling you not to stop.

She straddles one of your legs, and you gasp when you feel her warm, wet pussy against your knee as she starts rocking against it. You position your leg to give her better leverage, and she starts sliding against you, her tits bouncing with each motion. Leigh's sucking on your nipple becomes sloppier, more frantic, until she can no longer concentrate and releases it with a wet pop.

“Oh, fuck, Y/N—”

Leigh’s face contorts in pleasure as her drenched folds meet your thigh over and over, sweat dripping down between her breasts from the strain of holding herself up above you. The sight of her fucking herself against your leg is nothing short of mesmerizing. You increase the movements of your fingers, rubbing harshly at your clit as you watch Leigh, her breath coming in short gasps. Her eyes flutter closed, and a soft moan escapes her lips. The sound drives you wild, and you curve your spine, lifting your hips to meet your own hand.

Sex with anyone else has never felt this good before, and she hasn’t even properly touched you yet. It’s intoxicating, the way she takes her pleasure and gives it to you all at once. You’re lost in the haze of it all: the smell of Leigh’s arousal, her sweat-soaked skin, the sight of her tits bouncing and her face flushed with desire.

With your free hand, you grab the back of Leigh's head, guiding her down towards you. “C-Come here,” you manage to say, your voice breaking with need.

Leigh obeys, her mouth meeting yours in a frenzied kiss. You swallow each other's moans, the taste of her lips sending a fresh wave of desire coursing through you. It's this simple, sweet connection of lips that utterly dissolves all your defenses.

A keening moan escapes you as Leigh slides a finger inside you, pushing deep to the third knuckle, causing your head to tip back and break the kiss as the tightness in your belly becomes too much. “Leigh, can I—” Your voice is a mere whisper, your body trembling with the effort to hold back.

Leigh's eyes meet yours, and she nods vigorously, her breath coming in short gasps. “Yes, come. Come with me.”

It's too much—the sight, the sounds, the feel of her—it’s all too much. With a final, shuddering whine, you let go, your orgasm crashing over you. Your body convulses, muscles clenching and releasing as you ride out the intense pleasure. Moments later, Leigh follows, her body shaking as she comes, her moans mingling with yours. Leigh’s face is a picture of bliss, her eyes half-closed, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. You try to memorize it before she collapses on top of you, a sweaty mess of tangled limbs and satisfied sighs.

Blindly, you stare up at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath, feeling Leigh's hot puffs of air tickle your neck as she catches hers. Slowly, you circle your arms around her waist, keeping her on top of you, acutely aware of every point where your skin meets hers, the warmth spreading between you.

You bury your nose in her hair and breathe in deeply. This act feels more intimate than anything you had done moments ago. The simple closeness, the quiet afterglow, the way you can actually feel her heart beating steadily against your chest.

Minutes pass in comfortable silence, your thumb tracing lazy patterns on her back. Her breathing gradually evens out, each exhale growing softer and deeper. Realizing she's fallen asleep, a contented smile spreads across your face. You press a gentle kiss to her temple, letting your lips linger there for a moment. Carefully, you reach for the covers and draw them over both of you. You hold her close until your own eyelids grow heavy, and you drift off to sleep as well.

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

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gothsuguru · 7 months

Text

black is the color of my true love’s hair

♡ your devotion to suguru is second to none — you would do anything for your beloved! bonded by true love, loyalty, & utter admiration, these are a few moments where suguru has been unbelievably thankful for you & smitten by your acts of love & service! (a story from my suguru geto: valentine’s day fic list!)

contents: f!reader, no curses au, reader is short/blushes/has hair that can be ran through with fingers! slightly suggestive, cursing, mentions of depression/anxiety/self-destructive behaviors. but i promise this is a soft, fluffy fic! it’ll make sense when you read it! dividers are from @saradika! w.c: ~ 11.5k

a/n: (happy) belated birthday fic for my beloved husband! <3 the title of the fic is a lyric from “black is the colour” by celtic woman, it’s a very loving & devotional song so i wanted to do a story based on those themes! p.s. this is my first time ever writing an actual fic & it got a bit long because i got carried away, but i hope you enjoy! happy valentine’s day! <3 MWAH!

it’s a simple action, really.

you tilt your head slightly to the right and lift your face up to gaze adoringly at him through your lashes, a mirthful twinkle dancing in your eyes. a soft smirk coupled with a light blush adorns your angelic features, a precious look, which suguru has come to be utterly enchanted by due to the loving action that follows immediately after.

you catch him off guard the first time you do it.

the first time you kiss suguru’s knuckles, he falters.

it’s the way that you do it. naturally & effortlessly, as if it’s like second nature, that causes suguru to stop in his tracks and dedicate all of his attention to you.

his mesmerizing gaze is directed at you, molten gold eyes inquisitive. irrevocably fond.

he attentively watches as you softly grab his large warm hand in your small cold one. his hands are slightly rough yet supple due to his religious use of the honey-almond handcream you bought him earlier in the week.

he notices, rather than intertwining your fingers with his own and holding them, you smoothly bring his hand up to your face, wrapping your digits loosely around the perimeter of his long slender fingers.

your thumb gingerly caresses his ring finger (the one that holds a devout vow of eternal love), your featherlight touch raising wonderful shivers across his body. with the utmost care, you delicately — as if he’s made out of precious china, brush your supple glossed lips against his fingers, relishing in the coolness of his promise ring that encases both his aquamarine birthstone & your own.

your low-lidded enamored eyes never leave his affectionately curious ones — both of you preciously holding the other ones gaze, eyes locked in a staring contest of love.

utterly content with his undivided attention, you gently press a soft kiss to his knuckles.

a sign of affection.

an act, a promise, of complete & utter devotion.

his pierced eyebrow raises slightly due to the suaveness of your actions. he tries to gather his bearings, his brain fuzzy with your actions — did you actually just do that?

suguru’s amber eyes widen significantly, soft black eyelashes fluttering like raven wings against the tan of his cheek that’s blushed with a hue of raspberry red. mouth slightly ajar in surprise, his silver lip ring glints like starlight in the sunset daze of the evening, while his pierced tongue is pressed against his own cheek to stop himself from becoming a bumbling, stuttering mess.

if he speaks — he wholeheartedly believes all that’ll tumble out of his lips will be unabashedly fervent divulgances of: “i love you. i love you. i love you.”

adoration blooms out of his ribcage like a meadow of daffodils, sweetness enveloping around his heart, soft ivory petals and sage green tendrils wrapping themselves delicately over his bones. he reckons that if you couldn’t hear his heartbeat hammering out of his chest before, you definitely can now.

it’s almost as if his brain is in clouds of cotton candy, his mind in a sweet haze of shock, love, & affection when he finds himself whispering airily, “why’d you do that?”

tenderly stroking away silky strands of ink-black hair that wisp around his ethereal face, the fond smile you grace him with is saccharine sweet, “i felt like it.”

unbelievably charmed, he can’t help the giggle that spills its way out through his mouth like honey, a syrupy-sweet sounding little thing. his shaky fingers cover his rosy lips slightly as he laughs bashfully. he’s a bit shy because of it, but you don’t think a sound has ever been so melodious to your ears. you’d get down on one knee to kiss his knuckles reverently as many times as he wants just to hear his laughter over and over and over again.

the way you see it, it’s as if you were put on this earth to devote yourself to him.

like a loyal knight kisses the ring on the hand of their king with the utmost veneration, you’d do the same. without question, worshipping the ground whereupon he stands like a faithful follower would do to a cult leader. you figure in all of the other multiverses, you’re ultimately doing the same thing as what you’re doing in this one: loving him — devoutly. earnestly. passionately.

if the look of ardent rapture on your face is anything to go by, suguru might faint with the rush of pure love & endearment that flows like nectar throughout his veins.

he feels his blush bloom over his warm face which rushes towards the tips of his pierced ears, a clear sign of you flustering him.

wanting to gain back some semblance of control of the situation, he puts on a poker face, a gentleness in his eyes & a fondness in his smile still shining through. his black-nail polished thumb grazes your soft wind-chilled cheek. a beacon of warmth. a caress of admiration accompanied with a well-maintained façade of smoothness. a comforting touch for the both of you.

“well, aren’t you just so sweet.” suguru can’t help the coo that escapes his cherry red lips when you look up at him with your precious doe eyes, “my pretty little baby.”

he softly pinches your cheek, admiring the soft plush. he cradles your cheek with the same hand, & carefully smoothes down your hair that’s been strewn around a bit by the evening wind with the other. suguru pats your head in a nurturing manner in the process, another fond coo escaping him when he sees you preen at the attention he gives you, affectionately watching you revel in the flattering treatment.

your eyes widen with joy, always keening with any praise he showers you with. “i’d like to think so! now come on sugu, your pretty little baby has a lil surprise for you!” you playfully wink at him, your smile beaming like sunshine.

your warm eyes map his stunning features reverently, memorizing his elegant visage. drinking in his otherworldly beauty, as if you could never get enough.

while you openly admire him, suguru does the same to you. he doesn’t think that he’s ever been this enamored by a human being before. you’re the center of his universe, and he can’t imagine his life without you. all he can see in this moment is: you. his intense gaze holds yours as he captures both of your cheeks in his warm gentle hands, enveloping himself in your space. the perfume he bought you for your birthday invades his senses, clouding his mind in a welcomed haze.

all he can think of at the moment is: you. you. you.

all he can repeat in his mind is: mine. mine. mine.

his eyes gleam with a newfound sense of desire, wanting to show you exactly what you mean to him. what you do to him.

golden eyes turned onyx, dilated with desire, flit to your mouth. his thumb outlines your pretty lips that are begging to be devoured by his own, his right hand moving to cradle the back of your head, tilting your face up so he can comfortably take control. long, slender fingers splay across your hair, bringing you closer to him, slightly tugging the strands to hear and feel you gasp against his mouth. he presses his left hand against the small of your back, coaxing you further into his body, fusing you both together. not wanting to be even a millimeter apart. he just can’t get enough of you.

it’s like a magnetic gravitational pull when he presses a soft, sensual kiss against your glossy lips. the cold metal ball in his pierced tongue explores the wet cavern of your mouth, and he can’t help but moan softly into you, relishing in your warmth.

he prays to the stars above, hoping that he can convey his sincere love, desire, & admiration for you like this. he breathes life into you and you do the same to him. kissing you with such vigor & passion, he feels like melding your lips & souls together wouldn’t be enough.

suguru burns with a hunger to become one with you.

he pleads to the universe that the intensity of his desire and yearning is relayed to you — that you crave it, crave him as much as he craves you.

with the way he’s ravenously kissing you, and how you’re excitedly kissing him back, it seems like you certainly received the message.

suguru thinks it’s a little bit funny, but very much endearing, when you run around the living room like a bumbling fawn.

you zig-zag around the counter, making sure you pick up the purse that suguru got for you on your previous anniversary, an acrylic charm of your favorite actor clinking against the metal fastenings. (another gift that suguru got you, begrudgingly he might admit, because who the hell is that toji fushiguro guy anyways…)

you double check that all the contents you need are inside: phone, charger, lip gloss, mini perfume, credit cards — AH! you run back to your room like a panther, not wanting to forget the most important thing you need for tonight!

he can’t help himself but laugh at your frazzled antics. “babe, you can calm down! we’re going on a picnic, it’s almost impossible for us to be late!” suguru admires your punctuality, he thinks it’s sweet how you never want to keep him waiting.

“FORGOT SOMETHING, I ALMOST DIED.” you rush back to him, a big goofy smile on your face.

“baby… you’re heaving.” suguru covers his mouth, trying not to giggle out loud at how out of breath you are just by running a few feet. you’re so fucking cute.

“damn…” you huff out, hands on your knees, trying to get a deep breath in. “don’t call me out like that.”

he can’t help the laugh that bellows out of him, “sorry angel, now let’s go!” he places his large hands against your back, ushering you out the door quickly, “you still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

walking you towards his black mercedes, he opens the passenger side for you. with both hands on your hips, you remind him that, “it’s a SURPISE!”

after around 45 minutes of both of you jamming out to your playlist in the car, poking his cheek while childishly asking “are we there yet?” just to annoy him for fun, and ultimately being a proper passenger princess who tells him to “just trust me!” when he asks where you two are going, you both arrive to your destination.

and the sight that he sees, enthralls him. he whistles, beguiled by the view. from here, he can see how pretty and bright the stars are, it almost looks like they’re twinkling a “hello!” at the both of you. suguru thinks to himself, a picnic here at night? he’s unbelievably mesmerized at how your brain works sometimes.

he turns to face you, watching how engrossed you are in your phone, tapping away incessantly. wanting your full attention, his fingers grab your chin gently to force you to look him. he jokingly purrs, “if you took me here to kill me, i’ll have you know… sitting on my face would be much easier. much more preferred.”

you raise your eyebrow questioningly.

“because… it’s dark and we’re in random clearing.”

you stare at him blankly. “okay, you’ve hung out with me waaaay too much because i literally said that pick-up line to you last week and now you’re blatantly stealing it… like a THIEF. and also? you drove us here. who the hell is gonna drive me back if you’re dead?”

his brows furrow and he pouts, annoyed that you didn’t fall into his arms and blush because of his (your) raunchy words. he turns away from you and opens his door to leave, brattily huffing out a, “hmph. shut up, dumbass.” with his head held up high in the air, he struts away pompously to the trunk, opening and closing it loudly. a picnic basket with food you both made together in one hand, and a soft quilt of constellations made by haibara & nanami for suguru’s previous birthday in the other.

how fitting.

you loudly snicker to yourself while getting out of the car, amused by your boyfriend’s spoiled antics. while suguru is front of you admiring the view and trying to find a spot to set up, you admire the view in front of you. whistling out a, “damn…” suguru scoffs at your flirty behavior and gives you the finger. you send an air kiss back, and he playfully swats it away.

when he turns away again, you smile to yourself dreamily. taking out your phone, you click a quick candid of him against the night sky, admiring at how he almost resembles a painting.

the cream of his sweater and the contrast of his cascading ink-black hair entrances you, the silver hairpin you got him during a couple’s trip to kyoto in the top of his bun. the dangling deep violet amethyst gem glints in the moonlight, making him look even prettier. he turns his head to the left, eyebrow piercing and his lip piercing no longer in your peripheral, rather you see his eyebrow slit — a scar which you’ve softly traced over many times. his side profile allures you effortlessly, the angular bridge of his nose and the soft cupid’s bow of his lip offering up a beautiful contrast that is suguru: graceful yet strong.

shaking your head slightly, you break out of your trance.

you go back to the task at hand, opening your notes app and ticking off the word at the top of your list.

stargazing. ✔️

you remember suguru mentioned it in passing one day when you were both in the blossoming stage of your relationship. it was on his date bucket-list ever since he could remember, and of course you wanted to be the one who would take him!

you guide him over to a little meadow overlooking the city. surrounding you both are beautiful moonflowers, their sweetness enveloping your sinuses. the air is cool and crisp, and in the distance you hear the faint chirps & buzzing of hummingbirds along with the faint caws of ravens. you’re proud of yourself that you were able to find a place this picturesque. (even to this day, you still have an urge to impress suguru in any way that you can.)

both of you sit on the quilt suguru sets down, the homemade cloth providing an extra layer of cushioning that you feel atop the softness of the grass.

you’re upon the hill clearing, close enough to the city that you can comfortably drive back while still seeing a few citylights from where you are, but far away enough that the light pollution wouldn’t interfere with the date you had planned.

“it’s pretty.” suguru glances at the view, praising you while taking out the tonkatsu sandwiches, pasta salad, & chocolate covered strawberries from your picnic wicker-basket. you pick up a bag of chips and start munching on it while he lays down on his back propped up on his elbows, opening up a banana milk to sip on.

“i’m glad you like it,” your words are muffled in between loud crunches and fast chewing, “i was worried we’d be attacked by a mountain lion or a swarm of bees or some shit.” you say honestly.

he blinks. “i wasn’t worried about that.” sighing out a deep breath, he whispers, “but i am now.” he takes another sip of his banana milk in case it’s his last.

he sits up and picks up the tonkatsu sandwich, handing you the bigger half. “but seriously, how’d you find this place?”

you take the smaller half from his grasp instead, switching with him. taking a bite, you hum happily. suguru is such a good cook. he smiles at you fondly and you answer him, “i was searching up good places to look at the stars. out of all the pictures and reviews, this was the prettiest one.”

you look up at him and swear that you see an actual twinkle in his eyes.

“stargazing?” he pushes his bangs back behind his ear, leaning into your face. loudly repeating, “STARGAZING???” nose pressed against yours, an excitedly manic look in his eyes.

he throws his head back and waves his arms in the air, lamenting, “i should’ve brought my fucking telescope!”

he directs his gaze back towards you, pointing his finger at you accusingly while demanding, “we are coming here again in the future, okay? i’ll bring all of my astronomy gear: a telescope, binoculars, a constellation book, and oooooh! maybe i’ll also bring…” you unintentionally tune him out, looking at him adoringly with stars in your eyes.

this is what you wanted to see.

if you’re being honest with yourself, the best thing to experience in your life is getting to see suguru act genuinely excited. his eagerness to discover new things is infectious, and the man before you is the real suguru: dorky, eclectic, passionate.

the graceful, poised, & elegant man you see when he meets new people and the air of sultriness & suaveness he has when he takes you on fancy dates are utterly enchanting & beguiling, but you think that suguru you see before you now — the excitable nerd, is the most beautiful.

he flicks your forehead, breaking you out of your reverie. “have you been listening to a word i’ve been saying?” he scolds you while pinching your cheek extra hard.

“yeah, you want a telescope so you can look at the stars. also, you look really pretty… the stars ain’t got nothin’ on you.” you rest your chin in your hand, smirking at him, reveling in the blush that paints his cheeks. it was just the cold wind!, he’d tell you later while playfully smacking you upside the head.

you continue, “plus, it’s really hot when you’re all stern and tellin’ me off. what’s my incentive to listen to every word you say if i can get you scoldin’ me instead?” you tilt your head against your hand, grin wide, teeth bared. the masochist in you wants him to scold you even further.

he crosses his arms at you, muscles bulging out of his cream cableknit sweater. your eyes drink up the adonis right in front of you, mentally undressing him. “instead of hitting on me, how about i explain all of the constellations to you in extreme detail?” he purrs to you while biting his lip. he flips his hair over his shoulder, sultrily looking at you. you see right through him of course, knowing that he’s appeasing to your attraction to him just so he can ramble about ursa major, ursa minor, & the big dipper.

frankly. it works.

he holds his hand out to you. a truce.

you shrug. “if you do it like a hot stern professor, then sure.” you both shake on it.

he rolls his eyes playfully, trying to stop the smile that threatens to creep up on his face. “ugh. fine. be quiet and come over here.” he picks you up underneath your thighs and puts you in between his legs. your back pressed against his warm, sturdy chest. he kisses you on the head, appreciative of your indulgence of him.

you giggle cutely and move yourself down, laying your head in his lap while he softly plays with your hair. his lovesick gaze, fond smile, & warm thighs envelope your body, filling your senses with suguru. he leans down and presses a soft kiss against your forehead, an addicting contrast of his cold lip ring & warm soft lips electrifying your skin.

he pops a single chocolate-covered strawberry in your mouth, and you playfully nip his finger. he traces your lips softly and starts playfully lecturing you about the constellations that grace the night sky.

he excitedly points at a cluster of three bright stars, “and that is orion’s belt!”

you point at a bright star in the night sky a few lightyears away from it, grin unbelievably wide.

“i think you might be missing one, babe. and you call yourself the modern-day galileo. heh.” you playfully tease him.

suguru rolls his eyes, “okay first of all, i have never called myself that. second of all — excuse me?” his scoff is slightly haughty, & he can’t help the indignant laugh that escapes out of him. “alright, since you know so much — enlighten me then, what’s that one called?”

“hmm… i believe it’s sugurugeto-020390.”

suguru’s eyes widen ridiculously like flying saucers.

“what?”

you push yourself out of his grasp to hurriedly pull out a certificate from your purse and hand it to him. you sit next to him cross-legged, gauging his reaction.

“trust me, i wish i could get a better name for it, but it turns out there’s a lot of suguru geto’s in the world.”

pausing for a moment, you want to make sure that your boyfriend knows that he’s the only suguru geto on your mind.

giving him bedroom eyes, you purr, “none like you of course.”

he blinks. “what?”

your face falls comically, and you pout, “that bright star in the sky is yours.” you point at it haphazardly. “you’re the light of my life, you illuminate my life, you’re the sole star and center of my universe, blah blah blah… so i figured… ya know…!” you gesticulate wildly, and in the moonlight suguru can see the slight blush on your cheeks. your eyes looking everywhere else but his own.

you’re shy.

he can feel the sinus pressure building up against his nose and the tears glaze over his eyes.

you scratch the back of your head, trying to save face. you quickly backtrack, “i know it’s a bit cheesy and honestly, technically, this was probably a scam, but i figured it was the thought that counts and–”

“shut up.”

you look up at him in a state of shock, “HAH???”

he grabs your cheeks, his silver rings cool against your face, and smashes his lips against your own, teeth slightly knocking against yours. in his excitement, he pushes you down and straddles you, pinning you down to the grass — his body a comforting weight on top of you. he kisses you breathlessly, moaning loudly in your mouth. you can both taste the fruitiness of the strawberry on each others tongues, your own being pressed softly against his piercing. you pull away softly, needing to take a breath.

and the sight above you is one you don’t think you’ll ever want to forget.

suguru’s seductive low-lidded gaze is locked on you, parts of his bangs wisped across his face from the momentum of pouncing on you. he’s breathing heavily, and you can feel his rapid heartbeat hammering against yours, his nipple piercings slightly poking into your chest. a rosy blush spreads itself on his cheeks like a strawberry jam, and you don’t think any view could compare to the one you’re blessed to see now.

his lips are red and glossy, aching to kiss you again. you nod softly, begging him to continue. he slots his lips back with your own, tracing your bottom lip with his tongue before he bites down sensually, groaning loudly when he hears you whimper. he curls an arm underneath your body while kissing you passionately, bringing you closer to him, enveloping you into his space. all you can think about in this moment is: suguru. suguru. suguru.

pulling away once more, you peer into pools of gold. with every fiber of your being, you truly believe that his eyes carry the most beautiful stars — a milky way of ochre and obsidian.

never casting your fond gaze aside, you intertwine your hand with his, bringing it to your lips, kissing each knuckle fervently.

his alluring gaze follows your devoted actions. butterflies brush their wings together inside his stomach, the flutter erupting throughout his whole entire being. he thinks that in the moonlight, underneath the canopy of stars that…

you are the most brightest.

the most beautiful.

the most meaningful.

“honey! i’m hoooooooome!”

you feel unbelievably ecstatic that you can finally get to see your dear boyfriend after two weeks of being apart!

you already have the whole day planned out, perhaps you two can get takeout from your favorite local restaurant and watch anime together! you giggle happily to yourself while thinking about how you both can snuggle and have a cozy day in.

you take your shoes, coat, & purse off by yourself, wondering if suguru is out. usually by the time you’re at the door, suguru is already there welcoming you back with a massive kiss and a “missed you baby.” softly whispered in your ear, especially if you go on a long trip…

hmm, that’s a bit odd.

now that you’re looking around…

the apartment is in complete disarray.

it looks like a tornado blew through the whole place.

you shuffle in further… and dirty dishes are piled in the sink, overflowing dangerously. suguru’s clothes, random knick knacks, and pillows are strewn about as if he threw them all in a fit of rage. crumbs litter the carpet and you see what looks to be dirt tracks on the floorboards. the laundry is stacked high and the air is stuffy, it seems like no windows were opened in the time that you were away.

worriedly, you run into your shared bedroom.

suguru is there, thank god safe & sound, but what you see breaks your heart.

he’s laid face down, the left side of his cheek smooshed into the pillow, black tear tracks staining the fabric… he must’ve cried on a day when he went out? the bedroom is filled with dirty clothes on the floor, and you’re pained to smell the stench of cigarettes in the air. it’s light… maybe he only smoked one… but the fact that he felt the need to smoke at all, shattered your soul.

especially considering he quit ages ago when he started dating you.

you walk towards him lightly, not wanting to scare him off. his eyes are open and he looks at you… but he’s not really looking at you.

“you alright there, precious?” you softly whisper.

a perfunctory question. you know he’s not. he knows he’s not. but you know he’s in no state to answer any questions that you have.

“mhm.” he hums quietly. lethargic, not even having the willpower to answer with anything but a light rasp.

you brush back his bangs, and he shudders. his hair is greasy, oil-black hair clumping together in some places, matted in others. his lips are slightly chapped, a bit bloodied no doubt from his habit of biting his lip when he’s anxious. his fingernails are no stranger to the same action, stubbed and jagged down to the nailbed, his black nail polish chipped. bright amber eyes which often have a gentle look in them have turned into a dull ochre, obsidian pupils overtaking his irises.

they’re still gentle because he’s looking at you… but if you’re being honest with yourself, his eyes remind you a bit of a black hole right now.

vacant of light.

you press a soft kiss against his forehead and leave the room momentarily, thinking to yourself if anything can be done about this situation.

you decide to shoot satoru a quick text, seeing if he can help you out a bit with what you want to do.

you breathe out a sigh of relief, a small smile gracing your face. you can always count on satoru. the man may be silly and eclectic, but at the core of his being, he’s someone who will always take care of and look out for his friends. he’s the type of person to drop anything to help those that he loves and adores.

(sometimes you think that satoru really was an angel put onto earth.) (but then you think that he was probably cast out of heaven for being a little shit.) (regardless, you still fucking love him for it.)

you walk back into the room, and lay your head against your pillow that is next to suguru’s. (it smells like him… he must’ve hugged it while you were away.)

cradling his cheek, you quietly say, “satoru’s also back from his business trip babe, he’ll be coming in about 10 minutes. how about you get a bit of sunshine with him, hmm?” he blinks slowly, nodding softly.

you hold his hand to help him up out from the bed, but he shoos you away, admonishing you slightly, “i can do it myself.”

you nod and leave him to it, mentally preparing yourself for the behemoth cleaning task ahead when he leaves.

suguru pads slowly into the bathroom and puts his hair up in a high ponytail with a hairtie he stole from you, not wanting to deal with it. he washes his face and gets a wet rag to pat down his body and underarms, not having the energy to shower. putting on a random black sweatshirt, he douses himself in your favorite cologne of his. he puts on your strawberry lip balm while popping a piece of mint gum in his mouth and with a tired sigh, he exits the bathroom, dragging his feet to where you are at the door.

he kisses your temple gently. planting a soft kiss against his knuckles, you think your eyes deceive you when you see a semblance of a twinkle in his eyes. “love you baby. i’ll bring you back somethin’.” he rasps out softly.

even in his darkest times, even when his mind is playing tricks on him, he’s still thinking of you. wanting to take care of you. desiring to show his affections towards you in any way that he can.

you simply want to return the favor.

satoru arrives at your doorstep wearing a crisp white button up and black tinted glasses, his snowy white hair shining like starlight thanks to the delicate sunbeams that hit him. he hugs suguru gently, placing a soft kiss against his temples. suguru, dressed in all black just nods his head lightly at him. he’s not really interested in going out but knows that you two will force him regardless, reminding him that getting sunshine and looking at different scenery is important.

as they get into the car and back out of the driveway, suguru waves lightly at you, eyes tired yet gentle. satoru winks at you, proud & thankful that suguru has someone that cares so deeply for his mental, emotional, and physical wellbeing.

waving them both a goodbye, you go back inside and put on your cleaning playlist, ready to get started.

the first thing you do is open up the blinds and windows, wanting to air out the stuffiness that had built up over the past two weeks. considering the fact that suguru got a tinge paler and his undereyes looked sunken, you don’t think he got even a single beam of sunshine or any semblance of fresh air in the time that you were away.

padding over to the kitchen, you begin by doing the dishes. wearing your matching baby blue dishgloves, you get to work. it seems like suguru got anxious by seeing all the dishes piled up and started using some paper plates, which would explain the overflowing trash as well. the dishes are caked with food, but soften a bit by dousing them in water along with spritzing a powerwash grease-lifting spray. you sigh happily, glad that this will make it easier. after washing, drying, and putting away the dishes, you turn your attention to the kitchen surfaces.

you wipe down the counter and dining table in circular motions with a lemon-verbena spray, disposing of any old particles of food and random dust that lay upon the surfaces. already in your cleaning mode, you start to feel a little bit more energized.

opening up the refrigerator, you see that it’s been practically untouched. unfortunately, you gag when you smell rotting veggies and fruits, promptly rushing to your kitchen cabinet to get your trash bag to toss any old food away. you mentally remind yourself to get groceries in the morning, maybe if suguru is feeling a bit better after today you both can go together!

walking into the living room, you get your cleaning towel to beat the dust out of all the furniture. usually you & suguru both start with the bedrooms, but this time you figure you’d start with the living room as it’s in a bit of a better shape than the bedroom.

after you finish beating the living hell out of your cushions, you get to swiffering, mopping, and vacuuming — humming and singing loudly to suguru’s favorite songs on your shared cleaning playlist.

you go into the bedroom and start by gathering all of the clothes on the floor and the ones in the hamper to put inside the washing machine. you look around and do the same with the bedsheets and pillow cases, rubbing the eyeliner out of suguru’s pillowcase with some makeup remover first.

cleaning out all of the drawers, you make sure to throw away any random trash and only keep what’s necessary. clutter bothers both you and suguru, so you do your best to try and minimize that. you pick up empty bottles off the nightstand and throw them away. at least he drank a bit of water.

turning your attention to your bookcase, you wipe down the multitude of pictures of you & suguru that he put in frames.

there’s a few of both of you smiling after going on cute dates — suguru’s grin unbelievably wide while flipping off the camera and holding you close to his chest as you laugh loudly. there’s ones of you gazing at him adoringly, your love for him seeping out of the picture. there’s others of him looking at you — a soft fondness in his eyes, an even softer smile gracing his lips, his affectionate gaze tuning out anyone and anything else that isn’t you. both framed and pinned to the wall are multiple candids you two took of one another when the other wasn’t looking or paying attention, bursts of love immortalized in random moments of time.

you tell yourself that the sniffle you do is just because of the dust.

clearing your throat slightly, you look around proudly. you’re done!

you spray each room with a cotton spray, inhaling the fresh linen scent happily. you light up a teakwood candle that suguru bought a few weeks ago in the living room and put a sandalwood diffuser in the bathroom, freshening up the place. you take a well-deserved shower, feeling properly clean and accomplished.

by the time you’re done, it’s around 5:30 in the evening and satoru texts you that they’re on their way and will be back home in approximately 30 minutes.

you take a can of sprite out of the fridge and onto the counter, while simultaneously placing an order for cold zaru soba noodles from suguru’s favorite local spot. you place another order at your best friend sukuna’s bakery for suguru’s most beloved dessert: matcha crepes. you figure ordering a bouquet of flowers would be a cute, fun little surprise too — anything to put a smile on suguru’s face.

you also do the same for satoru, a little thank-you present for when he comes back to his own apartment. you order a bouquet of narcissus & holly for him, internally hoping that he likes it while also ordering all of his favorite desserts from his favorite bakery! knowing with your entire soul that he will happily fill himself up on raspberry macarons, strawberry cake, vanilla mochi, chocolate donuts, & zunda cream kikufuku to his heart’s desire.

with a pep in your step, you walk back into the bathroom to get the most important part of your night started.

suguru finds his heart a bit lighter when he comes back to your shared home. he didn’t want to admit it to satoru… but he actually had a fun time eating, shopping, and listening to his hilarious stories about his shitty business trip. he’d be lying though if he said that he wasn’t most excited to see you after a long, eventful day.

in his hand are a bunch of shopping bags from stores that satoru dragged him to — clothes from your favorite stores, accessories & bags that you most wear, shoes that you need, books & knick knacks that you like — all for you. he bought a few for himself of course, but he mainly wanted to spoil you. he can’t help the small smile that creeps up on his face when he thinks about how excited you’ll be to see the gifts he got you.

thinking back on it, the guilt and shame he felt in his heart when you first saw him earlier today ate him up. he didn’t even know why he was feeling the way he was feeling so strongly. it was coincidence that it coincided with your trip, and he made sure that he would sound fun and happy over text as to not worry you. it wasn’t until a few days from when you were actually set to arrive that he didn’t even have the energy to talk or text you.

hell, he didn’t even have the energy to keep the apartment tidy or keep himself in check either. another pang of guilt hits him like a freight truck. he concludes that he’ll give you a spa day so he can clean everything up, not wanting you to worry about the mess he made.

he knows from the bottom of his heart that you’d never judge him or make him feel small for feeling the way he felt, he just feels so bad that he couldn’t even muster up the energy to greet you the way you deserved to be greeted. to kiss you. to hug you. to have a delicious dinner together and snuggle with you.

but no. after a long trip you had to come home and be worried for him. have the apartment be in disarray, have to see him be in disarray. fuck, you were worried enough to call up satoru.

he swears to himself that he’s gonna make it up to you. he swears that–

oh?

what?

suguru’s eyes widen, hands weakly dropping his shopping bags on the floor.

the entire apartment, top to bottom, is spotless.

dishes done and put away. dining table clean. living room tidy. is that… a bouquet of daffodils, his birth flower, on the counter? he also sees the bag from his favorite bakery right next to it too…

he walks around, astonished, at how you’ve made the apartment look brand new.

he reaches the bedroom and sees that the bed is made. his clothes have been clean, dried, and put up in hangers inside his closet. the nightstand, dresser, and bookcase all spotless and wiped free of dust.

a fresh smell envelopes his sinuses. he swallows the lump in his throat. did you smell the single cigarette he smoked? it seems like you aired out the whole apartment. in front of him is a beautiful sunset that waves at him from outside. a sunray beam kisses his cheeks. suguru blinks and feels something wet trailing down his face… it tastes salty on his lips. but feels so warm and sweet.

“suguru?” your angelic voice calls to him.

he turns around and sees you. fresh and clean, a beacon of warmth and illumination. a light blush dusting your cheeks no doubt from all of the hard work you’ve done.

“i ran you a bath. you up for it?” you tilt your head cutely at him, a silent plea in your eyes for him to agree.

feeling like his voice will betray him if he speaks, he nods softly. grabbing his hand, you take him to your shared bathroom, also totally spotless. your hands are soft and small in his, warm for once, because of you taking a hot shower and checking the temperature of the water for suguru’s bath. a sandalwood scent envelopes his nose, no doubt from the diffuser you put inside. he sees the romantic candles and rose petals around the bathtub and he can’t help the smile that overtakes his face.

“for me?” he rasps, a teasing tilt to his voice.

“always. everything and anything i do will always be for you.” you say it seriously. genuinely.

to you, it’s a vow. an oath.

his eyes widen slightly, but he closes them momentarily, not wanting any more tears to spill. he crinkles his eyes and smiles at you softly.

“you joining me?” he undresses, taking off his sweatshirt and t-shirt. showcasing his tan skin, toned abs, & muscles. his nipple piercings & belly button piercing are on full display and he giggles lightly as you ogle at his body, watching your eyes trace his numerous tattoos & piercings, absolutely mesmerized.

“maybe next time,” you smirk, a playful twinkle in your eyes. “figured i could do a little pamper session, is that alright with you?” you ask him caringly, wanting to make sure that he’s comfortable with it first & foremost.

he fears that if he speaks any louder than a whisper, the love that overcomes him will drown his airways. he rasps out a small, “yeah.”

always. anything and everything you do will always be right for me.

he gets into the bath and you try to not let your eyes trail down, instead focusing your gaze on his dragon tattoo that encompasses his entire back along with the mythological japanese creatures that trail up his arms and ribcage like tapestry. you see one of your favorites, a black and white beta fish upon his ribs, submerged underneath the water he’s in.

from this angle, you can also see your name that he tattooed behind his ear. smiling to yourself, you sit behind him, ready to begin the pamper session.

his sloshes the rose petals around with his fingers. the water is warm, is his first thought. i wish you were in here with me, is his second.

your fingers stroke his hair softly, lulling him into a false sense of security, and then you get to work, vigorously rubbing in his lavender shampoo. he can’t help the laugh that escapes him. for some reason anytime you two would take baths or take showers together, you would always wash his scalp aggressively. “this is how i wash my hair sugu! what’s a little run through gonna do? we gotta keep clean!” did clean mean damn near ripping out his hair follicles? possibly.

he’d never stop you or scold you however, he thinks it’s hilarious and an endearing trait of yours. when he washes your hair he makes sure to be as soft and careful as possible, almost lulling you to sleep. when you wash his hair however, it’s like you’re turbowashing a pickup truck. he figures this time he’ll give you a pass (he always does) considering that he doesn’t think he’s washed his hair in around a week and a half.

“gonna rinse now, okay?” he hums quietly, closing his eyes.

this almost feels like a purification process to him.

you lather shampoo in his hair once again wanting to do a double cleanse, this time a bit more softly. you massage his scalp, and he tips his head back. you start from the crown of his head, working in circular motions, using your fingertips. then you go to the roots of his hair, pressing and lathering, pressing and lathering, pressing and lathering.

you push his head forward slightly so you can clean the back of his head too, massaging the pressure points in his scalp. you were always a good masseuse, therefore a deep sigh escapes him, tension leaving his body by the second. (this might be the first time in two weeks where he’s been able to breathe comfortably.) you run your fingers throughout the clean strands of his hair, humming a little tune to yourself.

“they called me.” your hands still for second, but resume back to carefully twisting the water out his silky black hair. you stay quiet, knowing that when suguru speaks he prefers to get it all out there first.

“must’ve been like, what, two days after you left?” a humorless laugh escapes him. “they always know when to fuck up my mood. i swear.”

he sighs tiredly. “they went on a whole spiel about how i need to come back home and find a ‘real job’ as a hotshot lawyer or some fancy businessman, as if i don’t run my own tattoo parlor. as if i’m not also a real fucking businessman. like, do they think i don’t make any money? that i can’t comfortably take care of us both?” he rolls his eyes, getting annoyed again just thinking about how long the same repeated conversation had gone on.

suguru’s family is relatively well-off. he’s genuinely thankful that both him & satoru never had to worry about how to put food on the table or be worried about not being able to spoil the people that they loved.

it’s just that his parents were angry that their picture-perfect little boy wanted to spread his wings… see a world that had more to offer than quiet dinner table meals filled with tension and pointed jabs at one another guised as “caring advice.”

their image of suguru started to get distorted when he first showed up on their doorstep with his gauges. an act of rebellion. he could’ve worn small simple diamond studs but he wanted to make an impression: i’m my own person. even as a 13 year old boy, i can make this decision on my own. he remembers the way his father said he looked foolish. how his mother held her hand over her heart, in shock that her little baby boy had tainted himself in such a manner. what would others say?

suguru remembers looking in the mirror after the whole fiasco & thinking: god… they’d say i look so fucking cool.

then it started with sneaking out to go on late night drives with satoru, shoko, nanami, & haibara. they’d jam out to random songs on the radio, get slurpees & snacks, and sit in satoru’s car just talking about life and their future for hours. suguru still remembers the way his bangs wisped across his face, the crisp night air purifying his soul, the stars in the sky illuminating the landscape. the world seemed bigger those days and the gang were enjoying their teenage years. enjoying their youth.

he remembers coming home, his father waiting for him on the couch, pointing to the seat next to him, forcing suguru to sit down. his father’s arms crossed, black turtleneck making his muscles bulge slightly out of his sweater, his specs on the bridge of his nose making him look so serious. suguru found it easy to make eye contact with everyone in the world, but with his father he couldn’t help but look away sometimes… so he redirected his gaze to the tiny delicate beauty mark near his fathers right eye. a small little thing that made his father look a bit more… prettier. nicer. less daunting.

“where were you?” the timbre of his father’s voice rattled his bones. he muttered those three words quietly, but it still shattered suguru’s eardrums regardless.

“out. with my friends.”

he scoffs. “some friends they are.” a deep resounding ring of utter disappointment comes from his father’s words.

suguru sneers at the man, pissed that he would even think to disrespect suguru’s choice of friends like that. “yeah, they’re the best.” not an ounce of sarcasm lacing his words. his own mood dampened, nevertheless.

he recalls stomping all the way upstairs and slamming the door with all his might. sitting on his bed and resting his head against the window pane, eyes looking up at the same stars he saw when hanging out with his friends.

the stars seemed so far away from suguru’s room.

the world looked so big. suguru felt so small.

then one day, months later, suguru kissed a pretty boy. he can’t quite remember his name anymore, just that his lips were soft and his eyes were kind. suguru’s parents found out. his dad was surprisingly fine with it… he just assumed it was a phase, he went through the same thing as his son did when he was his age. his mother however… she just acted like it never happened the next morning. as if it wasn’t just a part of who he is.

his parents thought he was rebelling for the sake of rebellion. in actuality, it was suguru’s true self coming out. he was just getting more comfortable in his own skin. he was tired of being the picture perfect beauty who always was demanded of being polite, poised, & graceful. it was always too easy for him to put on a fake smile and manipulate others into doing what he wanted for the sake of his family’s reputation, it’s what he was taught. being at that house, it felt like he was kept on a tight leash, restricted from living his life. he felt caged like a bird…

but he just wanted to be free.

all he wanted was to just truly be himself in this world.

a kiss against his scalp breaks him out of his reverie.

right… he was here with you. he doesn’t have to spiral or worry anymore. you’re here. with him.

you’re here, you’re here, you’re here.

he shudders softly, taking your hand, holding it tight within his grasp. anger laces his next words, “they also said it’s time i get into a ‘real relationship’. whatever the fuck that means.”

you giggle. you know that his parents aren’t too fond of you, you’re not exactly of the same… class or status as them. at least that’s what suguru’s mother told him.

he huffs out a single dry laugh, “i’m glad you’re laughing about it because i nearly popped a fucking blood vessel screaming into my phone when they said that shit.”

“my protector.” you coo to him.

a light blush tinges his cheeks. always.

he presses a kiss against your palm. “i think it just made me… spiral a bit, y’know? reminded me of when i was kid and they made every little decision for me. i mean i’m a fucking adult now — i can decide what i do, who i wanna be, and who i want to be with.”

so when he got that phone-call from them on that day he was supposed to go to some rock concert… he did the one thing he promised himself he’d never do again. he lit a cigarette, and cried his eyes out into his pillow.

while sobbing, he remembered when he was in his early twenties and he’d sleep around with anyone and everyone, smoke blunts & cigarettes, go bar-hopping… do everything the picture-perfect pretty boy would never be allowed to do under his parents roof. his family just made him so miserable that he would do anything to not think of them.

he heard your voice in his head, reminding him, that instead of continuing on that self-destructive streak, he got his shit together. art & drawing was always his safe haven, so he found himself an apprenticeship at a tattoo parlor, getting a job as a piercer and ultimately working his way up to being a tattooist. he owns his own place now — all his hard work & effort paid off.

his mind travels back to you. his one true love.

ever since the moment he met you, he was mesmerized by your beauty — your smile made suguru feel butterflies flutter around in his stomach, he remembers the day you walked into the parlor and how everything in that moment stopped… as if you two were the only ones in the room, as if he could already imagine a future life with you. your personality shining through like a beacon of light, and as he got to know you further, your loving words & caring actions only made him fall deeper in love.

suguru’s heart and sobs only calmed down when he thought of you. his beloved. his angel. his reason to be. he hugged your pillow a bit tighter that night, imagining it was you.

“i’m proud of you, you know.” you say it so genuinely that it tugs on his heartstrings, making his heart skip a beat.

“you’ve been through a lot of shit with your parents, but at the end of the day, you chose to follow what your heart desired — not whatever they wanted. you’re successful in what you do and you made the right decision. it doesn’t matter what the hell they say, because they don’t know the effort and time it took you to get where you are.” you say it so passionately, that suguru believes every word that comes out of your mouth. his heart racing, thankful that somebody fucking understands him.

“you’re kind. you’re caring. you’re so unbelievably loving. you’re always looking out for others and helping anyone that needs it… you’re a good fucking person, suguru. i hope you know that and realize that. it doesn’t matter what anyone else says, you are good. what you do is good. who you are is good. it’s an honor to be able to love you and be with you. i hope you know that.”

for the first time in a while, suguru turns around and really looks at you. the way you bare your soul to him so effortlessly, the way you smile so sweetly at him, the way you make him feel like he’s your one true love.

“i’m so thankful for you. i love you… and i want to be with you, too. always.” his voice breaks a little, overcome with emotion.

suguru hugs you tightly, neither of you caring about the wetness on your clothes. suguru puts his entire spectrum of feelings towards you into the hug — an apology, a thank you, and a proclamation of love.

voice a bit shaky, he laughs, “sorry for getting you all wet. i know how much you hate drenched clothes.”

“you apologizing for getting me wet? now that’s a first.” you purr playfully, glad to see him in better spirits.

a loud laugh bellows out from suguru, deep within his gut. he kisses your lips preciously, and sits back down in the water, urging you to continue.

the mood now is far lighter. the air thick with a sweet steam.

you rinse his hair and gently put his lavender conditioner through his hair. massaging it in, running your fingers through his silky smooth strands. you put his hair up in a clip for a few minutes to let the product soak in. he washes it out himself while you start the shower, making sure you put in his favorite honey-almond bodywash. he gives you a silly yet oddly sultry show when he lathers himself and he promptly comes out, steaming and refreshed. you help him do his skincare routine, softly rubbing each and every product into his skin. he towels off and sits down, hairbrush in his hand, looking at you.

“here, let’s do this first.” you blow dry his hair, taking your time and allowing suguru to lull his head back onto your front, the soft black tresses of your beloved’s hair feeling much more revitalized in your fingers. you then brush his hair, gently, carefully. the entire time, you notice that suguru’s eyes are closed and he’s smiling to himself. you kiss him on the top of his head, and he turns to kiss you back. eyes closed, his lips puckered…

but just then, the doorbell rings.

“OOH! perfect timing!” you scurry off. you leave a pouting suguru who huffs out a little “hmph.” annoyed that whoever was at the door took a very well-deserved kiss away from him.

he patters softly to the kitchen where you’re setting out cold zaru soba noodles for him along with a can of sprite and matcha crepes. all of his favorites.

you hold a bouquet of flowers. daffodils.

“for you.” you curtsy, a mirthful twinkle in your eyes. he graciously accepts them from you, a shy smile and light flush across his cheeks.

“thank you.”

kissing his knuckles you whisper, “anything for you.”

for once in his whole entire life, suguru doesn’t think he can bear to look you in the eye. your adoration is so unbelievably intense, it feels like it’ll burn a hole inside his heart. does he deserve so much goodness in his life?

“you deserve more than what i can give you. i’ll spend my whole life making sure you realize that, suguru.” you say to him honestly. “if you’ll allow me of course.”

he kisses you on the lips softly, hoping that you can feel how thankful and lucky he is that he has you. “likewise.”

he clears his throat. “okay, c’mon. i’m starving. i wanna watch that stupid show and shit talk that hot guy you like on screen while we snuggle.”

“he’s the best character, suguru!” you huff indignantly. clearly he can’t be talking about thee toji fushiguro???

“babe. he SUCKS.”

he knows you so well, he muses to himself.

he knows how your breath hitches after he nuzzles his lips against the curve of your neck, that the skin is sensitive there, but not as sensitive as your right ear. he knows that because of the way your knees buckle as he whispers soft romances to you, intense shivers overtaking your body. he makes sure that his arm is always wrapped tender yet firmly around your waist when that happens, trapping you against his unyielding body.

he knows what makes you tick. on the rare occasion that you allow your emotions to overcome you, he knows how to comfort you. he leaves you alone for a few moments so you’re able to gather your thoughts & assess your bearings, and then he invites you into his warm embrace. he lets you lay your head in his lap as he strokes your hair gingerly, easing your soul with both honest and kind words. adorning your face with soft kisses and even softer caresses. a cocoon of protection.

it seems like these days, however, he hasn’t had a proper grasp on you. you can’t hide a single thing from him, he knows that you would never willingly do so either.

it’s not like you want to anyways — not that you intend to, at least.

but it’s an aching feeling in his chest, nonetheless.

earlier in the week, you’d softly shut your bedroom door whenever you saw him, pretending as if you couldn’t see each other… as if he wasn’t there. it’s moments where he found you haphazardly digging for shit in your drawers, tucking whatever it was into your pockets and padding away softly to your room. you’d stay in there for hours, only coming out when he knocked on your door to tell you dinner was ready. he heard lots of rustling and you pretended as if you were just chilling in there, as if nothing was going on. sometimes when he knocked on your door to see what you were up to, all he heard back was an “i’m busy, baby! i’ll be out soon!” then it became even more odd, you’d quickly shut off your phone whenever he came into the room and would plaster a bright smile at him as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

he sighs to himself. he trusts you. he loves you. he knows you’re not doing anything heinous.

but… why won’t you tell him what’s bothering you? don’t you trust him to fix whatever is wrong? it eats away at his mind & soul that you think you have to hide whatever it is that’s taking you from him. don’t you know that he’d drop anything for you? that’s what being in love is for, right?

his eyes peer at you from the couch, studying you. he calls out to you softly, “angel. can we talk, please?”

a statement posed as a question. he knows this. you know this. you answer regardless.

“sure.”

you walk towards him, intentionally adding a lackadaisical swagger to your steps. to fool him. you know it won’t, he knows it won’t. but suguru isn’t anything if a man who doesn’t indulge his beloved.

he pats the seat next to him on the couch. inviting. as if he’s giving you a choice, even though you know you have none at the moment. “sit next to me, my love.” his smile is taut like a string, amber eyes shut closed so you don’t bear witness to the tears that threaten to spill.

he knows you’re hiding something.

he doesn’t like not being in the know.

is it something he did?

is it something you did but are too afraid to tell him?

since when were you afraid of him?

were you always–?

in the few seconds it takes you to sit down, a myriad of questions race through suguru’s head, creating a spiral of untamable negative thoughts. you would talk to him if something was wrong, right? you both have a healthy communication and always talk things over with each other… so what’s different now? do you not trust him?

suguru chastises himself, thoroughly.

of course you wouldn’t want to speak to someone like him.

always the overthinker. always the nagging negative nancy. always the manic-depressive.

sometimes suguru fears that he acts more like a father to you rather than a boyfriend.

that he’s a bit suffocating. too intense. very overbearing.

a warm hand engulfs both of your small, cold ones. he hopes that it comes off as sweet, as caring. because he himself is sweet and caring.

at least he hopes he comes off like that.

“is everything alright, sweetheart?” a soft whisper. he speaks placatingly to you like you’re a newborn fawn and any loud noises or large movements will make you jolt and run away. “i feel like… you’ve been avoiding me recently. and…” he takes a deep breath. “listen, i don’t know if it’s something i did, but you need to tell me, okay? you have to tell me so i can make it better.”

he thinks he sounds nurturing. kind. paternal.

he also thinks he sounds so fucking condescending.

he closes his eyes and a picture of a man darts across his eyelids like an overdeveloped photo.

strict, heavy-handed, cutthroat.

paternal and protective to a fault. a man who was always “right” even when he was wrong.

an “apathetic” man who bore a child who thought too much – felt too much.

a flash of a sophisticatedly handsome man with obsidian shoulder length hair, serious low-lidded eyes, and a firm closed mouth sears itself across suguru’s brain like a charred photograph.

he flings away the afterimage as quickly as it came. pretending as if he never even thought of it.

he gulps, swallowing the fireball in his throat. god, he really doesn’t want to be like… him. having a majority of his features is enough, he does not want to inherit that man’s personality.

suguru absentmindedly rubs the slit in his eyebrow, his grip unintentionally tightening on your hands. he releases moments after, not wanting to cause you any pain.

“everything is fine with me sugu, i promise you.” you reassure him. “it wasn’t my intention to avoid you or make you feel like you did anything wrong… i am so sorry if it came off like that.” you answer him honestly. your head is tilted to the side like a little puppy, brows furrowed, upset that you made him feel like you were trying to get away from him.

“no, no no no no no, baby it’s not your fault.” he quickly grabs your cheeks, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. he brings you against his chest, hugging you tightly. “don’t apologize honey, i’m sorry… i just got into my head a bit.” he quickly placates you and kisses the top of your head. you shouldn’t be the one to suffer because he started to anxiously overthink and spiral.

he looks at the time on his watch. it’s a few minutes past midnight. you both should go to sleep… maybe you can talk it over in bed or in the morning with clear heads.

you exhale softly, shaking your head faintly. you press a delicate kiss against the corner of his lips. telling him, “give me a sec.”, you walk over and into your room.

he nods and watches you saunter away, putting his head into his hands. god… him and his big mouth… he sighs, anxiety crawling up his throat once more. he really didn’t want to upset you or anything, he angrily tells himself to apologize to you when you get back.

hearing you shuffle closer to him, he lifts his head.

in your hands is a… huge book?

“i wanted to give you this tomorrow… well technically today, but i guess it doesn’t really matter.”

he tilts his head, confused. you present him with the thing you’ve been working so hard on.

you smile at him so softly, he thinks that his heart is about to burst. “happy birthday, suguru.”

birthday…? oh god, it is his birthday.

he gently takes the present from you… it’s a scrapbook.

“don’t look at it in front of me! okay, bye!” you quickly sprint into your room, not wanting to be in the room when suguru looks at such a personalized present.

blinking, he grabs his reading glasses from the coffee table, and opens the book, flipping through each page carefully.

photobooth pictures, polaroids, kodak film pictures, movie tickets from your dates, admission tickets from amusement parks he’s taken you to, and multiple candids of both him and you - many of which he hasn’t seen.

one of them looks awfully familiar… did you take this the day you took him stargazing in the meadow? his fingers brush against his trembling lips, trying to stop himself from sobbing.

is this what you were doing?

he feels so stupid.

but god… does he feel so fucking loved.

you’ve immortalized every single moment of your relationship with him. nothing being too small for you to be excited about, carefully keeping everything.

he sees the little pressed flower of a daffodil enclosed in wax paper on one of the pages, probably from the first time you gave him a bouquet. the first time anyone has presented him with flowers without wanting anything in return. when asked about the occasion, you simply shrugged and said “just felt like it” & then quickly kissed his knuckles, zooming out of his apartment to run errands. he remembers how bashful he felt. how thankful he was. how loved that experience made him feel.

he moves his glasses upwards, wiping the tears across his lashline and the ones that stream down his face. he clears his throat slightly, and continues flipping the pages. you’ve drawn little doodles (things that he’s already planning to get tattooed on him simply because they came from you) and you’ve written beautiful, personal messages. encapsulating your adoration for suguru in the margins — genuine words filled with your love, devotion, and admiration for him.

he sniffs loudly and tries to wipe his face the best he can. he tenderly calls out your name, beckoning you over to him, and you get up out of your shared bedroom to pad softly into his open arms.

“my love.” he stands up and walks over to you midway. he hugs you so tightly while pressing your head against his beating heart, his arms protectively enveloping you. the space between you two is nonexistent, and suguru surmises that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

conveying his thankfulness and love to you, he sweetly says, “my sweet, sweet girl.” a soft kiss pressed against your hair, “you know my heart beats for you, right?” from anyone else it’d sound cheesy, but from suguru… you know he means it from the depths of his soul.

he holds your face in his gentle hands, openly divulging his admiration for you, “my little dove.” he coos so fondly, sweet candied sugar dripping from every syllable. “you’re so precious to me, you know that? i love you. i love you. i love you.” a tender kiss pressed against your soft lips between each proclamation of adoration.

you smile graciously, thankful and relieved that he adores your present and that he especially adores you. you knew out of any of your presents that you were going to give him today, that this would be the most meaningful. suguru has always been the ultimate sentimentalist, and you wanted him to know that you care for him so deeply. that you love him. adore him. that your heart beats only for him. pushing back a black tendril of hair behind his ear, you kiss him gently. both of your lips fitting together perfectly — like a lock & key.

you bring his knuckles upon your lips, preciously kissing his promise ring, ensuring to him that your love and devotion runs deep, deeper than anything in this world.

“i love you too. happy birthday, my love.” his hands are so gentle. his face is so sweet. suguru… your one true love.

if someone asked suguru to describe you in three words, he’d say you were: devoted. loyal. loving.

he has four more words of his own on the tip of his tongue that he’ll ask to you when he musters up the courage.

with a soft kiss upon the ring on your knuckles, and an even softer smile upon his lips, he lovingly breathes out, “i will love you too, forever.”

#geto suguru x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #belated b-day fic for my beloved ON valentine’s day… i’m a lover to my CORE. never think otherwise #if you listen to the song there are some callbacks to the lyrics in this fic itself :’) if you read this thank you & i hope you enjoy! :D #i edited the geto pic myself are you proud :3 fixed his hair + made it clear + spruced up the coloring <3 anything for MY man #my writing #personal

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arlerts-angel · 4 months

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HENNESSEY, AND A LOT OF BAD DECISIONS — K. RYUGUJI

ken is having fun celebrating his birthday. . . but there's one gift he just can't wait for.

❥ note: HAPPY belated BIRTHDAY DADDY 🐉🩷 pretend like this isn't 3 days late okay ... 😭

"cheers!"

the clink of shot glasses rings in your ears. you promised your best friend you'd take one shot for his birthday, but that you didn't want to get drunk.

he accepted under one condition.

"happy birthday draken!" you and your group of friends cheer, then collectively throw back the drink.

he nods thankfully and joins in the group shot. he glances over at you and smirks. "you ready to hold up your end of the deal?"

you throw your head back and groan playfully, but oblige. draken offers his hand to you, leading the both of you to a lone table. "they're gonna love this," he grins, "but not as much as i will."

draken helps you up onto an empty table and lays you down gently. you raise your shirt enough to expose your midriff, squirming as he pours the alcohol into your navel. "i can't believe i agreed to this," you giggle. ken grins back at you.

your friends take out their phones to record and cheer him on as ken gets ready to take the shot. he presses his hand gently beneath your navel and looks you in the eyes as he drinks the alcohol from your body. the pressure from his hand earns himself a soft moan from you.

"don't let them catch those pretty sounds on camera princess," he teases. your stomach twists into a knot and your cheeks grow warm. you start to apologize, but ken interjects. "don't be sorry. you wanna feel me right here, baby?" he asks softly as he presses down on you once more, smiling at you. sickeningly and seductively.

you nod eagerly. you don't know where this is coming from, but you're not going to ask. not now, anyway. "maybe he's a lightweight," you think. ken pats your thigh, offering to help you sit up. "i wanna do one more body shot, if it's okay with you."

"anything for you, birthday boy." you agree.

"anything?" he repeats, smirking at you. "so you'll let me sneak you away and fuck you out of your pretty little head?"

you nod and squeeze your thighs together. ken grabs another shot from mikey, then approaches you. "from your tits, yeah?" you give him the okay, then he pours the shot into your cleavage.

you can hear the faint sound your friends cheering him on as he puts his face between your tits and downs the alcohol, but your heartbeat is louder, pulsating through what feels like your whole body. draken looks up at you from your décolletage and winks.

he sneaks you away from the party into his room, leaving a trail of hungry kisses from your lips to your collarbone. "couldn't wait for you any longer, you sure this is okay with you?"

"as long as you're not drunk," you reply. ken laughs softly and shakes his head.

"there's no way i'd let my first time with you happen while i'm drunk! you have nothing to worry about, princess. just relax... let me make you feel good," his voice trails as his hands begin fumbling with your clothes.

the way he unclasps your bra makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter. his hands feel so big on your back as they slide to the top of your pants. "these are my favorite... 's that why you wore 'em?" he asks as he gently smacks your ass. you moan softly in response, arousal pooling in your panties. "fuck," he groans, urgently sliding your bottoms off your body.

he gently, but quickly, lays you down on his bed and gets between your thighs. "want a taste of you, need it... just a taste baby..." ken presses his nose against your clothed clit and kisses the wet patch on your panties. he groans and pushes them to the side, sliding the pad of his slender finger down your wet slit.

"fuck... you're soaked baby," he grins just before planting his mouth onto your clit. he teases your bud, flicking his tongue in short strokes. you buck your hips, begging him to quit teasing. he gently pushes your hips down onto the bed then sucks on your clit, licking up and down your cunt hungrily, moaning at the taste of your sweetness.

you feel him gently sliding a finger inside you while his tongue laps at your clit. he starts pumping in and out slowly, gradually gaining speed as your moans become louder and more needy.

"fuck! ken!!" was all you could let out as you start to drown in intense pleasure.

"never gonna get tired of hearing that... you're so goddamn perfect. so fuckin' sexy." he praises, rolling a condom down his length. ken grabs your waist and slowly slides his cock inside you, letting you adjust to him.

"like a champ baby... taking all of me the first time...? you're a dirty fuckin' girl... my dirty fuckin' girl, yeah?"

"yeah," you moan as he bottoms out, then fucks into you at a quick pace. he grunts and groans in pleasure as your cunt contracts around him.

"fucking tight," he hisses. his fingers press deep into your skin as he holds you against his cock. draken's gaze shifts from your face to your tits bouncing, to your finger on your clit as he fucks you, and back to your face, taking in each beautiful sight.

"so pretty, baby. so fuckin' pretty, all of you is so. fucking. pretty." he emphasizes. you respond with little grunts and moans, too blissfully cockdrunk to formulate words.

your cunt tightens around him as you reach your second orgasm. ken curses and inhales sharply, his hips stutter as cum spills inside the rubber. he falls into you, kissing the beads of sweat on your skin.

"been waiting a long time for that," ken admits softly. "i want you to be my girl. will you?"

you smile and look him in the eyes. "of course i will, ken ryuguji."

you share a soft kiss, then hear a knock on the door.

"draken? you in there? where's [name]?"

you look at each other and laugh quietly.

"we'll tell them someday..." you whisper.

dividers by cafekitsune

taglist: @milky-aeons @lees-chaotic-brain @katkusuo @priv-rose @reiners-milkbiddies

@toji-girl-main @blueberrisdove @darkstarlight82 @i-literally-cant-with-this @kodzukein

@trevengersprincess @tetta-kissaki @little-miss-chaoss @ravereina

#ᯓᡣ𐭩 mack writes #tokyo revengers smut #tokrev smut #ken ryuguji smut #draken smut #ken ryuguji x reader smut #draken x reader smut #tokyo revengers x reader smut #cw: dubcon #tw: dubcon

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roseglazedlens · 1 year

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⦑ 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝗮 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱? ⦒ ✶.*

pairing(s): ethan winters x afab gn reader synopsis: ethan can't sleep again. as his doting partner, you reach under the sheets, giving him temporary solace to his nightmares at the village. content: smut 18+ only mdni, soft dom ethan, hand & finger kink, sensual, oral (m! receiving), deepthroat, finger fucking, body worship, pet names, hurt/comfort, events in re8, mentions of trauma, nightmares, scars, stitches & prosthetics. a/n 2: please check out my friend @emilzke's ethan winters x reader work called 'rebuilding' which i absolutely love (she got shadowba-nned so give her some love thanks!) a/n: belated birthday gift to @obsolescent, one of my favourite people on this app! sorry this took so long! ! even if its not your bday anymore, hope you still had a good night lovely! enjoy! also inspired by this art of ethan. « 2.2 k words┇masterlist┇ao3┇reblogs appreciated! »

It all started from a little small talk, quiet reassurances of ‘how was your day’ shared intimately under the privacy of the moonlight and each other’s eyes until both of you drift into slumber. The bed, in which you rest together when night falls. Two bedside tables, lived in, and for a moment, a sense of normality has returned.

Ethan was restless in his sleep—a side effect from full-day’s work of software debugs and upgrades that he maintains on the daily. Or perhaps, something more. Something that happened in the village that he spends every minute trying to forget. And despite the passing of seasons, the memory lingers like persistent heat.

His hand fidgets under the covers, shifting fingers up and down in desperation to find yours, as if you might disappear, kidnapped by the shadows of his nightmares and he’s back there again, finding missing flasks, patching you together piece by piece like a detached puzzle. But what he’s actually looking for are parts of himself, that seem to still sit underneath the crumble and debris of the buried village.

“R-Ro…” Ethan’s voice hitches out—frantic, weak.

Through muffled strings of your sleepy breath, you rummage under the sheets to find his hand.

“My dear… It’s me. I’m here.” You turn around to lean into the column between his neck and shoulders, made perfect for you. The moment your hands meet, Ethan clasps them tightly, before relieving, loosening in your reassurance. “You’re okay now. Rose is okay.”

Ethan’s eyes open lightly and just like you promised, Rose is in the cot by your side, gentle baby's breath floating through the air. He brings you closer to his chest, just to nestle into your warmth as he peppers kisses on the crown of your head.

“Did you sleep?” You coo, hands running up his naked torso just to feel them against you.

“A little. I’ll go back to sleep soon. Just need a second.” His chest heaves in front of you, and from what you know about Ethan, his quickened heartbeat will only take a while for him to calm down.

You look up to see him, and find that his eyes are wide awake, simply staring at the ceiling, as if counting sheep to hypnotise him back to sleep. Through lidded eyes, Ethan sees you; and smiles at how you look. His hands move unthinkingly, bringing them to your face before he even realises he’s caressing it, sending a gentle shiver of warmth through your spine.

“Ah.” Ethan puts his hand in the air to stop him, chuckling bashfully. “Sorry for keeping you up. Get some sleep. You have work tomorrow.”

“I’m awake now.” You grumble, catching his hand in the air back to your face, like a toy stolen from a child. You press his hand on your cheek, keeping him there, which Ethan has no problems with.

His hands are different now, you thought as you run your fingers down his hand, feeling every stitch, bump, and rough texture that ran along the back of his palms before hitting you with the cold knuckle of his metal prosthetic fingers along where his ring and pinky finger should have been.

What used to be the compliment getter for Ethan, through the bruise and burns had lost its natural shine, not even his superhuman healing speed is immune to the scars. But to you, the rugginess simply enhances his beauty. Stitches tracing like a map to a treasure, red patches of scar like cherry kisses gracing along the soft plush of his palms. You love it all.

Those are proof of Ethan's survival—That was all you wanted. To hear and feel his presence in the mundane. Side by side with the man you love. But to him, he lost something that day. A part of his soul ripped apart, still underneath the crumble and debris of that buried village.

“Do you need help sleeping?” Your half-lidded eyes can’t obscure your devilish glint in your eyes, hand rustling underneath the sheet, obscure him from the view of what you’re about to do to him. His eyes meet yours, staring right back in disbelief, but simultaneously unable to resist what you have to offer for him in this quiet night.

“Now?” He seems to be genuinely considering the idea. “What if Rose wakes up?”

“She won't if you keep quiet.” You bring his hand to your lips to pepper kisses on his hands, slowing as you’re licking the length of each finger. The pain goes away, replaced by lust, but only ever so slightly.

“Can you do that for me?” You pause, waiting for his answer, and he nods surely. “Good boy.”

Wasting no time to help to get comfortable, you dive your head under the covers just to resurface as a lump under the sheet. Ethan clears his throat in anticipation as you tuck your fingers into boxers, removing just enough for his cock to spring up and meet you in the face.

You run your tongue at the tip of his crest, swirling in small circles to tease his precum out of him, in which he squirms, pushing in his legs slightly before relaxing. It was difficult to see where you are in the darkness of the sheets, but you make do, finding where his crest meets his shaft and following it down the rest of his dick to find the prominent vein on the underside of his cock.

When his cock is wet enough to your liking, you meet his tip with the soft seam of your lips, taking his length inch and inch at a time as you tongue around his hardening cock. A low grunt escapes his lips, and you can hear his thoughts fading him as you play with him some more.

He places his hand on your head, blood surging down his body, not quite wanting to hurt you, or accidentally snag on your hair to make it painful.

That’s who your husband is, even when he’s enjoying, he would never want to hurt you. Or at least tries not to.

“O-Oh... m’ god, so fuckin’ goo- Nnh.” That is your cue to move in deeper, hopefully to catch him between words and leave him hitching his breath as you finish him under your nose. Your tongue clashes against his dick that only fills your mouth, eventually leaving no room for your tongue to explore him. The bobs of your head become more messy and difficult, and his whimpers only make you even more excited.

“L-Let m’ see you, babe.” Ethan stifles the words out, lifting the covers up, and you’re embraced by the light of the bedside lamp. A glimpse of Ethan’s silhouette and his round beady eyes staring right into your position that exposes you and the hunger you have for him.

With you now able to see, you catch how his eyes snap shut, brows twist in, feeling every single pulse climbing through his body. His hand that rests on your head grows tighter, one that is neither rough or gentle, just a reassurance and consolance of what you are going through. You feel yourself pooling from how lewd it all sounds.

“Fuck, how did I get married to someone like you?” Ethan whines, bumping his head into the headboard behind with a light thump, but he doesn’t care. You are right in front of him, and he’s taking in the sight of you in with every glimpse of attention he can offer.

The tip of the dick is at the back of your throat. Only now you feel the gag reflex—but you shut your eyes tightly, holding in a little longer until the feeling surely goes away. This is when you feel his hips jerk up against you, thighs widening to welcome you as he whimpers bitten pieces of your name until his spine shakes from the fervour of affection you have been pouring into him.

“G-Get off… I’m fuckin’ gon-gonna…” Ethan’s raspy groan erupts through the room, melodious to you, as his hand struggles to push you off, made weak for any movement from how your skilled lips have treated him.

Ethan falls back to the sheets, with one final grunt, unloads himself directly onto your tongue. And you accept, letting your sore jawline hang wide to receive the fruits of your labour. His hand untenses from your head, abandon to the side of him in order to recollect his thoughts.

You reach over the bedside table to retrieve the tissue box in order to spit out his cum for disposal. You roll back to your side of the bed, checking at Rose's slumber, and when you did you bring the sheets upwards, preparing for your sleep.

“Good night, Ethan.” Are your final words creeping a yawn before turning the lamp off.

Ethan pauses to catch his breath for a moment, then wraps his hands around you, coaxing warm kisses into your neck: “How’d you expect I sleep without tasting you first?”

“I’m on morning shift tomorrow. Need my eight hours.”

“You sure?” There it was. That sweet voice lined with a hint of mischievous tone. The one you can’t resist.

“I’m very sure.” You don’t hesitate, because you know it will give yourself an opening.

He runs his hand up your belly, slightly exposed from your lifted shirt, pressing strokes that almost feels like a massage. Ethan seems to know where to touch you every time to untense you. “By the time I’m done, you’ll sleep like a baby.”

You can be convinced. You can be convinced very much. Especially with how he reaches down to tease you, and knows how your body betrays mind, with how you have wet a patch in your underwear.

“Not very honest, aren’t you?” Ethan lets out an amused grin, as if returning the favour of what you’ve done to him at his barely awake state. “You’ll still get your eight hours. I’ll make you come in five minutes. Guarantee it.”

You roll your eyes and wave at him to go ahead, but secretly, your clit is pulsing at his forwardness, increasingly eager to let him please you. In which Ethan helps himself, running a teasing finger up the length of your cunt just to stop at your clit, swirling lazy circles which only earn a groan from you that Ethan has been desperate to hear all night.

“Etha-an… Hnng… B-Babe…” The feeling run into your veins, growing in need, knotting itself low in your stomach. He delivers as he promises with only his nimble fingers, through slick and slurp, explores the depths of you, finding the spot you desire with skilful ease. You let out a soft moan, closing your eyes to feel him filling you with his fingers alone, and encourages him to continue.

He spreads you, adding his second finger now, the cold metal of his ring finger, lacing them on the length of your cunt with practiced ease. The contrast between cold and warm only excites you more. Ethan dotes on your sweet voice, slipping the two curled fingers in and out through a perfect angle that pushes a muffled groan between clenched teeth.

“God, baby.” He takes that as a sign to continue faster and harder, jamming his fingers until the sound of your slick permeates the air, every muscle clenching at him. “You like it when my finger fucks you, huh?”

You let the sensation continue, allow yourself to completely give away control to the man you love. Let him take care of you, like you always do to him. Ethan is merely returning the favour. A slight pain enters through his sensitive finger that still aches from a past wound, in which he winces, and you catch on almost immediately.

“Y-Your hand…”

“Shh… Just be quiet and feel good.” He smiles, not intending to stop anytime soon. Ethan quickens his pace, before you start squeezing into his fingers, demanding urgency, speed through how your thighs close in, as if that would allow more friction on your naked skin.

You open your eyes now, and all you see is sincerity in his eyes, fixed upon you this whole time to make sure you are indeed enjoying what he’s doing to you. And somehow, that is the one action that tips you over the edge, rippling high moans through the back of your throat as you chase your own high directly between his fingers.

“Wow.” Ethan whistles, a bemused grin hanging by his lips as he feels your juices release, spilling on his fingers. “You came so much.”

Ethan brings his fingers up his lips, admiring his handiwork, dripped in your sweet juices, before putting them into his mouth. He runs his tongue around the sides of his slender fingers, savouring every part of his reward.

“Heh. Told you I just need five minutes.”

“That was ten minutes, Mr. Winters.”

“Maybe I can beat my record?” Ethan winks, quite terribly, frankly, and despite how his silly charms would normally convince you, this time, you are functioning with five hours of sleep.

“Don’t even try, Ethan.” He shrugs, slightly defeated, as he joins you into the cosy embrace of your shared bed.

...

“In the morning?”

“Are you serious right now, Ethan?”

thanks for reading! come check out my other works. —yours truly, rose. god i'm so feral for him, every night i'm plagued by the thoughts of ethan cradling me to sleep and whispering into my ear (yes this is a marriage proposal). tags: @valsthea @httpsuguru @emilzke @daydreamrot @navstuffs @j3llyd0nut @ovaryacted @obsolescent © roseglazedlens — please do not repost, plagiarise, or feed to ai.

#꒰✒️ rose fics ♡.꒱#ethan winters #ethan winters x reader #ethan winters x you #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #re8 #resident evil smut #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction

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tim-shii · 7 months

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a/n: save me, preppy!bf danheng. save me, please, preppy!bf danheng. im so normal about him its not funny anymore. i need him. i badly need him in my life rn its actually criminal how hes not beside me reading our silly little books together. also consider this my little belated valentines gift <3

bf!danheng who smells of old books, coffee and vanilla flowers.

bf!danheng who writes you little handwritten notes and slips them into the pockets of your coat or jacket.

bf!danheng whose favorite authors are edgar allan poe, albert camus and fyodor dostoevsky.

bf!danheng who’s such a gentle lover, every word of praise that comes from his lips is nothing but sincere and sickeningly enamored.

“you look beautiful. you are beautiful.”

bf!danheng who’s an honor student and tutors you at the library after class hours.

bf!danheng who lets you borrow his sweaters and crewnecks, sometimes even letting you keep them with the reason being ‘they look better on you’.

bf!danheng who casually hands you an annotated book out of nowhere.

“i finished the book. you were talking about it a week ago.”

bf!danheng who recites to you the most romantic poems as you both lay on the grass, under the starry night.

“she walks in beauty, like the night

of cloudless climes and starry skies;

and all that’s best of dark and bright

meet in her aspect and her eyes;

thus mellowed to that tender light

which heaven to gaudy day denies.”

bf!danheng who reads his book beside you on the couch, arm around your shoulders and head leaning to yours.

bf!danheng who always remembers little details about you, whether you mentioned it in passing or he overheard you telling it to your friends.

bf!danheng who notices everything about you.

“you fiddle with your ring when you’re bored.”

bf!danheng who falls in love with you more and more when you randomly blurt out a quote in the hushed nights you two spend together.

“it is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.”

“that’s shakespeare. you’ve always loved that quote.” he looks over at you, a fond expression gracing his pretty face.

bf!danheng who greets you with a kiss to your temple everytime without fail.

bf!danheng whose heart jumps a little bit faster when you push his glasses up his nose with a pointed finger and your nose scrunched up cutely at him.

bf!danheng who kisses you passionately and slow, taking his time ‘cause he feels like it’s only a matter of time before something inevitably pull you away cruelly from his hold.

bf!danheng who blinks slowly, blush rushing to his ears, when you smile at him and promise him you’ll be with him for evermore.

likes and reblogs are appreciated! masterlist

#tim writes.#hsr danheng #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr fluff #honkai star rail danheng #danheng x reader #danheng fluff #danheng #dan heng #imbibitor lunae #dan heng x you #dan heng x reader #dan heng fluff #hsr dan heng #danheng x you #honkai x reader #honkai star rail fluff

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warnersister · 7 months

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Alfie Solomons x Jewish!Reader

“If you’ll have me”🧸🕍

Click here for the request

Summary: the oddly timed belated visit to his synagogue gave reason for Alfie to keep visiting (Jewish reader)

Alfie felt the need to reconnect with his religion, reconnect with Judaism. Reconnect with the community he’d began to stray away from as his unlawful business thrived. Reconnect with his home, with his family, with his truth.

That’s how he ended up at the local synagogue at two oclock on a Tuesday afternoon. He’d inhaled deeply and relished in his transparency, how God could see straight through him yet still welcomed him into this place of worshiped. And Alfie relished in the fact that for once he couldn’t hide, for once he couldn’t argue it with guns. Alfie felt bare; he felt truthful; and he felt free. He felt proud adorning his faithful yarmulke on his head.

But something felt pure, strong, innocent. Something radiated out of the room that wasn’t only Alfie opening his arms to religion once again. It was something purer than he could ever fathom, something addictively bright. Something powerful. Something that drew him closer like a moth to a lamp. Something like you.

Alfie’s eyes immediately darted to you the moment he’d entered the holy house - how could they not? You were the only other person besides him daft enough to be there at such an odd time. You were sat rather centrally in comparison to the room, only a few ways back from the front and mid-row: head bowed. And if Alfie listened closely and tuned his reiteratively ringing ears enough, he could hear your whispers of prayer and they sounded like bliss.

Alfie approached quietly, noticing how the blue taints to your dress contrasted with your surroundings, and how the shade made your skin appear vibrant and more radiant. He noticed the bracelets encapsulating nimble wrists. He noticed your eyes closed, and lips endlessly muttering promises he couldn’t quite make out.

Eventually, his presence became more apparent as he wasn’t necessarily stealthy with his painful limp and wheezy breathing. You looked up at him, connecting your eyes; entrancing him with the siren-worthy whirlpools that stared back at him. But as quick as the connection was made, it was gone as you quickly returned to your familiar mumblings.

You’d ended your prayer and raised your head, basking in the silence as you stared straight ahead of you. Alfie cleared his throat. “Seat taken, love?” He asked, motioning to the bench space beside you. You looked back at him and smiled gently, shaking your head and offered it him “no, no. Please, sit” and Alfie perched himself gently beside you. “Bit of an odd time to talk to God, no?” He asks, staring ahead; similarly to you to mirror your actions. You snort slightly. “Could say the same thing for you.” And he nods in response, thoughtfully appreciating your correct comment. “Plus I’ve not been for a few months so I thought a few minutes alone wouldn’t really hurt.” You shrug. “Oh I’m sorry, did I interrupt?” He asked, turning to look at you, figure towering you slightly. You just shook your hair again. “Not at all. The weights off my shoulders so the time must’ve done some good” you say to him. “What brings you in?” You ask. “Business has kept me away. Need some time to rekindle.”

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing needing to confess, anyways?” He asks and you giggle slightly. “Well, I’ve got to explain why I’ve not visited him for a while.” You look upwards. “But my grandfather just passed and I thought now was a better time than any to start revisiting Judaism.” You explain to the man. “Oh, sorry for your loss sweetheart.” Alfie never said that, but he felt a serious pang in his heart at your saddened expression. “No need, he wasn’t a good man. But it was a good reminder.”

“Well if business has kept you away for so long why are you available at two on a Tuesday?” You ponder, cocking your head to the side in an amiable fashion. “Well business isn’t as busy, and I’ve done a lot of bad business recently. Plus my sciatica’s been playing up recently, must be a punishment from beyond.” He jokes and you hun thoughtfully. “You know I have just the remedy for that.” You tell him and he raises a brow. “Oh yeah? And wha’s tha treacle?” “Chocolate hamantaschen cookies, they always do the trick.” You promise.

“Oh,” he stokes his beard, reminiscing, “i haven’t had one of those in years.” He admits. “Where do you suggest I get one?” He enquires as you begin to stand. “Theres a bakery at the corner of this street. Theirs are alright.” You tell him and he smiles slightly. “I’ll give it a go for you.” He swears and you nod. “Well I best be off, those cookies won’t bake themselves.” You say, beginning to walk away when Alfie practically jumps out of his seat. “Your bakery is it, darlin?” He asks, quickly catching up to you to which you giggle and nod. “Well I need to be trying these cookies now then.” “Doesn’t seem like to have to” you turn back to him “seems like your sciatica’s magically disappeared.” You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. He grins and taps his nose, replacing the hat on his head “the lord knows.”

Alfie found himself frequenting your bakery once a fortnight. But he didn’t really string together when once a fortnight became once a week. Or when once a week become once daily. Or even when once daily became twice daily, open and close. Or when he started walking you too and from work: but he did, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Eventually, Alfie had managed to taste every bake before it entered the storefront market, giving you his input as you chuckle and tut, wiping the crumbs from his beard and wipe the strawberry jam that had gone missing ten minutes ago from his lips. He also found salvage in the synagogue - your presence a more convincing one that made him go at least once weekly, always at a random time on a random weekday, but you still bowed your head and prayed. But now something had changed, you now spoke louder as the burly man next to you would simultaneously bow his head and swear just as you would. He'd then ask if any of those cookies were ready yet and would always burn his mouth after taking one straight from the tray and placing it straight in his mouth.

*Ring*

The bell in the storefront chimed and you moved from the back of the bakery to the front to answer your customer, instead you were face to face with three men, pistols in hand: talking quietly in brummie accents. "Can i help you gentleman?" you ask, wiping the flour on your hands onto your piney and resting them on your hips. "well aren't you a pretty thing?" the youngest one quirked with a smirk on his face. you roll you eyes but the apparent leader begins to speak, the red-haired one distracted by the odd bakes available in the glass display case in front of him. "we'd like you to give a message to Alfie Solomons." he tells you and you cross your arms and shake your head as you feigned confusion "doesnt ring a bell, sorry."

the man smiles slightly. "alright sweetheart, tell Alf that he has some business in Birmingham to attend to right away seeing as he isnt in his office, seems like a know where he has been" he instructs. "Tell me yourself Tommy boy." the familiar voice barks out roughly from the doorway and you exhale slightly at his welcome presence. “Excuse me missus?” The red haired once removed his cap and requested your attention. You looked over to him and hummed. “Can I have a box of those ones with orange in the middle? My young’un loves ones like that.” He admits, sheepishly. You smile and nod, telling him to cost and going to box up the goods. Tommy smacks the back of his brother’s head “fucks sake Arthur”.

“How dare you, come to my missus’ business, demanding her to send a message to me? If she wasn’t here I’d have murdered the lot of ya, yeah? So I suggest you take your saggy little shitty business back to Birmingham, yeah? And make sure my wife doesn’t see it again? Hm?” Alfie seethes. “Thought you didn’t know him?” Thomas narrows his eyes at you and you raise your brows in confusion “know who?” You retort. Alfie soon kicks the three brothers out, after a loud and frustrated conversation outside with a few “fuck yous” and some “if my mrs wasn’t watching I’d smash your heads together” but soon enough he’d just about cleared them off.

You quickly hurried outside, and called out for the one Alfie seemed to argue with the most “you forgot your desserts” he hurries back under the intense eyes of Alfie, thanking you with a sincere smile before rushing back to join his brothers walking away. “Oh my darlin’ I’m sorry-” “your wife?” You ask and he smiles widely, relaxing, putting his arms around you and pulling you into his chest

“if you’ll have me my love”

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intotheseas · 2 months

Text

We Played Hide and Seek in Waterfalls - Sebastian x F!Farmer 🔞🔞🔞

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57747583

This is a SUPER belated entry for @stardewfanficwriters' 1.6 fest, for the prompt "Waterfalls"!

Word count: 2,554

Tags: Smut, Vaginal sex/fingering, Outdoor Sex, Fluff, Porn with Plot, Praise Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Skinny Dipping, Domestic Fluff

"Sebastian floats nearby, reaching to twine his fingers with hers. Like otters. Above, the sky darkens, and the moon shines, reflecting in the pool’s glassy surface. Sage stares up in wonder, stars in her eyes. All that magic she loves to talk about…this must be it. These moments make Sebastian believe more and more." In which Sage plans a romantic surprise for herself and Sebastian, ending in passionate sex with a touch of whimsy.

The box fan’s weak breeze brushes Sebastian’s damp skin. Whether it’s damp from sweat or his second cold shower in hours, he couldn’t say. It blends together, in the way summer’s peak melds into a soupy blur.

He holds an ice pack to his neck, already mostly melted. Behind him, Sage rummages in the bedroom and kitchen, muttering under her breath. How she has the energy to do anything in this weather is beyond him.

The world goes dark as she throws a pair of shorts onto his head. “Sage, what the hell?”

“Get dressed.” She plucks off the shorts and tosses them in his lap, wearing that mischievous look of hers. Sebastian is all too familiar with it. She’s planning something, no doubt. As to what…well, judging by her yellow string bikini top and flowy skirt, something outdoors.

Sebastian’s torn - half of him, the primitive half, perhaps, follows her body’s curves like a lovesick puppy. His rational side sends alarm bells ringing, thoughts of dehydration and heat stroke prodding at him.

“Get dressed for what? What are you planning? It’s a million degrees out, Sage.” He readjusts the ice pack - mostly lukewarm water, now. “Does it involve an ice bath?”

Sage grabs it, placing it in the freezer. “It’s 88 degrees, actually, and it’s a surprise. You trust me, right?” She throws a wink his way, that look still dancing over her face. “Don’t worry, I prepared.” A stuffed tote bag dangles from her raised hand. “I have plenty of water, and…well, the rest is a secret.”

Sebastian pinches the bridge of his nose. Sage is difficult to resist on a normal day. When she’s wearing that…his resolve crumbles. “Okay, okay. Where are we going? I’m not putting on a shirt if I can help it.”

Her reply’s punctuated with short, chaste kisses. “It’s. A. Surprise.” She hoists the bag onto her shoulder. “C’mon! No shirt needed. Promise.”

Outside, the sun’s arcing toward the sea in a cloudless sky. In the distance, heat shimmers in the air, distorting his vision. Sebastian gathers his hair into a ponytail as beads of sweat pebble on his bare chest. “Well? What’s the surprise?”

“Follow me.” Sage leads him into the forest, and he sighs in relief as the dense trees offer shade. The verdant foliage is so compact the sun filters through in little spots, the space around them more shadow than not. Sage strolls ahead. She hums, her hips swaying in tune. Shades of green tinge her skin, as if she’s become part of nature itself.

Even the birds are weighed down, their vocalizations slow and sleepy. Underfoot, the ground’s carpeted in springy pine needles, muffling their steps. An earthy aroma fills the air, mild with notes of wild jasmine and moss. It’s beautiful, almost magical.

Before he met Sage, Sebastian wasn’t the type to think much about beauty, or magic. But, as his mother always says, to love and be loved is to change. Sage is always talking about magic. Not the showy stuff with a rabbit and a hat, but subtle moments, shining delicately between each atom. Especially in this forest. He tips his head back, shielding his eyes. Maybe it doesn’t have to be tangible. Maybe it’s in the way his soul stirs at the towering redwoods, or in the dappled light dancing on the forest floor.

That’s the kind of beauty and magic Sage brought into his life. He probably doesn’t tell her enough, but it’s taken up permanent residence in his mind, as she has.

“Hey Sage?” Sebastian brushes her shoulder, dotted with freckles. They always pop up in the summer. Kisses from the sun, she calls them. “Do you have any idea where we are? Orrr, where we’re going?”

She glances at him. There’s a slight flush painted on her face. From embarrassment or exertion, who’s to say? “Kind of. I do know where we’re going. I just…always seem to go by instinct when I’m here.” Swinging her arms, she laughs. “We’ll get there, I promise.”

He snorts. It doesn’t matter. As long as they’re together, they’ll make it out fine, regardless of if they find Sage’s secret or not. Sebastian’s happy to enjoy the journey and her company.

“Y’know, I kinda feel like a kid on an adventure right now.” Sage spins on the ball of one foot, twirling in a circle. “At least, that’s the vibe I was going for.”

“Vibe achieved.” That’s exactly what it’s like. An adventure to an unknown place, with nothing but a tote bag and each other. He softens as she plucks ahead, dodging stray logs and low branches. After a few minutes a low roar becomes audible above the birdsong.

“Oh!” Sage stops and Sebastian collides with her, sending them both scrambling for balance. “Sorry! I think we’re almost there. Come on, swear it’s worth it.” She dashes ahead, her skirt fluttering, fluffy hair bouncing. Sebastian races after, and they skid to a halt at the forest’s end. He pauses, his mouth open in awe.

A small pond, crystal clear and sparkling, lies in wait. Three waterfalls cascade over tall rocky ledges beyond, ending in sprays of foam. Through droplets suspended in midair, a translucent rainbow shines. The mist settles on their skin, cool and refreshing. “Wow.” He breathes the word, and Sage leans into him.

“Told you it’d be worth it.” She twines her fingers with his. “It’s a secret base.”

It really is. A private cove, isolated from even the rest of the Valley. There’s that magic again, subtle and flickering. Something only for them.

Sage digs in the tote, taking out a thick blanket. It settles on the grass, soft and inviting. She adds a dish of diced strawberries and water bottles to the spread. “Thought a picnic might be nice.”

Grabbing a bit of the fruit, Sebastian pops it into her mouth. “You have a lot of thoughts, don’t you?” As her face morphs into a grin, he melts. “This was really thoughtful. Thank you. Way better than sitting in the hot house all day.”

They stretch out onto the blanket, facing each other with giddy smiles. The waterfalls roar as Sage feeds him a strawberry. It's almost like candy, with a hint of tartness. Cupping Sage’s cheek, he shifts closer. Her lips, stained red, are flavored with fruit and sweetness.

His hand moves to her waist, following the swell of her hips, bringing Sage flush to his chest. Sighing against him, she deepens the kiss. Yeah, okay, this was definitely worth the trip out. Her strawberry tongue meets his, and a rush of heat floods his lower half. Desperate for friction, he's about to hook a leg around hers when she pecks his nose and stands.

Sebastian sits up, blinking, transfixed as she holds his gaze, shimmying out of her skirt inch by inch. To his delight, she didn’t wear a bikini bottom, or any kind of bottoms. The sun shines on her bare pussy, its little tuft of hair catching light like spun gold. Smirking, she steps into the clear pond. There’s that look, inviting him to follow her.

“It’s only up to my middle.” She wades further in, casting another look back at him. “Come find me!” Her laughter soars above the waterfalls’ crash as she darts behind them.

The water's cool on his skin, the hovering mist soaking him before he reaches the roaring columns. Yellow flashes into his vision, then out just as quickly. Sebastian splashes after Sage, his head on a swivel. Her giggles come from first the left, then the right. Clearly, she knows the falls better than he does.

Ducking through the spray, he grins. Sage flits out of reach as he chases her in meandering loops, and their combined joy condenses in him until he nearly buzzes with it. Free, happy, and full of life.

How does she make a game of hide and seek wholesome and sexy? Fuck if he knows.

Another glimpse of yellow. He lopes in its direction and finally, his target's in sight. Sage sits on a waist-high, flat rock, muffling laughter into her hand. Her legs dangle over the side. “Good job finding me.”

Metal to a magnet, Sebastian draws near, brushing a thumb along her cheek. “You planned this, didn't you?”

“Mhmm. Thought it'd be a fun date idea.” She peers at him from beneath long lashes. untying her bikini top. It drops into the pond with a plop, but Sage’s eyes stay glued to his as she tilts her head. “Hi.”

“Hey.” His voice has gone a bit low. “No one to hear us out here.”

“That was kind of the point.”

Of course it was. Leave it to Sage to scout out a fucking private cove for both hide and seek and sex. Shaking his head, he bends to kiss her. “Give me a minute.” Without another word, he wades out of the pond. Their picnic sits untouched. Setting the dishes aside, he grabs the blanket and skirts around the falls, finding Sage resting on her elbows, her legs spread. Holy shit. Okay.

“I can’t fuck you on a rock without cushioning. Don’t wanna scrape you.” He tucks the folded blanket beneath her, then removes his shorts, shaping them into a makeshift pillow. “There. Comfy?” As she nods, he breathes in through his teeth. She’s laid before him, some sort of waterfall goddess, with hair splayed and mouth parted. Definitely can’t get away with shit like this in Zuzu.

Determined to take his time, he rubs her inner thighs, massaging closer to her center. Sage arches into his touch. A palm flattened along her stomach slides up to her breasts. They’re perfect, not because of their shape or size but because they’re a part of Sage. He bends, swirling his tongue on her hardened nipples. Her skin, soft and slippery, has a slightly salty tang.

“Scoot down a little.” Sebastian lifts her legs over his shoulders, letting his cock rest on her pubic bone. Which is…unexpectedly hot, seeing how far inside her he’ll be. The thought sends blood rushing to his lower half, leaving his brain staticy and blank. He moves back and forth, sliding his shaft against her clit. Groaning, she holds his wrist. Carefully, he bends Sage at her middle, pressing his lips into hers as he grinds. “This okay? Any pain?”

Her hands move from his wrist to his shoulders. “No pain. Opposite. Fuck that feels good, keep doing that.”

There’s still a hint of strawberry on her tongue as their mouths move together. The teasing friction on the underside of his cock’s only amplified by Sage’s drawn out moans. He accepts them eagerly. For a few minutes it’s just the two of them, surrounded by the roar of water, lost in each other as they kiss. Sebastian slides a hand down to Sage’s entrance, and her grip tightens as slips two fingers inside, rubbing a thumb on her clit.

He moves in firm, deliberate circles, barely inside her. Her growing frustration’s evident in the pitch of her voice and it only serves to goad him on. Sage writhes beneath, scratching lightly at him. It sends chills cascading through his body and he huffs, nipping at her throat. She’s so easy to tease, so fun to provoke. “Easy, baby. Relax and let me take you there.” As her slick gathers around his fingers, his breathing becomes heavier. It’s absolutely lewd, how wet she is.

She gasps into his ear. “Please Seb, please Seb, please, you fucking, I, please-”

Interrupting with a third finger, he pushes deep into her, and her long cry leaves him rock hard. “Since you asked so nicely. No cock for you until you cum, though.” Of course, he can’t wait much longer, his impatience reflected by the relentless speed at which he drives into her. She’s babbling into him, begging for more, and who is he to deny? “Getting close? Come on, go ahead and cum for me, baby. Let me hear you get loud.”

Her moans rise above the waterfall’s roar, and her pussy clenches. “Theeeere we go. Good girl.” He sucks her nipple as she shudders, pulsing. As she grows quiet he slows, withdrawing. Sebastian nuzzles her face, planting sloppy kisses. “You okay?” She answers with a mumbled, incomprehensible string of words, but the way she beams tells him everything. “You want me to fuck you?” Sage locks her ankles behind his neck, somehow both glaring and grinning at the same time. “Alright, alright, point taken.”

He chuckles, pressing his cock to her entrance. With a shallow thrust, he dips into her, swearing as her wet walls conform to him. “Hold onto my arms.” Sage grabs them without hesitation. “Good girl. Let me know if anything hurts, okay?” He slides in, sighing as his hips meet hers. She’s so warm, and it spreads from his center to this soul as he angles himself just so, retreating and thrusting. He leans, touching his forehead to hers as he pumps faster. Desperate groans spill from him, the shock of the cool mist and Sage’s heat heightening his senses.

Their shallow breaths mingle as they join again and again, the slap of him on her sending electricity coursing through his veins. Sage’s mouth lolls open and he takes advantage, crushing his lips to hers and mindlessly swirling their tongues together. It’s so easy, fucking her like this. Making love. So natural. So right.

Beneath him, her pants and moans escalate. She meets his thrusts, gripping his wrists. Sebastian angles himself to grind against her and she stutters. He groans, his only desire to drive her over the edge once more. “Touch yourself for me? I’m getting close.” She rubs her clit and there’s that look again, as if she knows exactly how wild she drives him when she’s underneath, touching herself. That smirk nearly undoes him and his motions become erratic as her cries grow louder.

“Gonna cum.” He gasps the words out, inching closer to oblivion. “Deep inside. Fill you up.”

And once more, that fucking look as she flashes her doe eyes at him and says, “Please?” It’s his kryptonite, his absolute weakness. She’s writhing, head tossed as she brings herself closer. Her pussy clamps around his cock, nearly sucking him in as he spills everything, his love, his devotion, and his cum. Twitching into her as aftershocks spark through his body, he straightens and kisses her calf. “Yoba, Sage. I’d say that was a dirty trick if it wasn’t so damn amazing.”

She sticks out her tongue, still splayed. “I’d say it was dirty.”

“I’m glad we agree.” As he withdraws, he can’t help but laugh. “Can you walk?”

She hops from the rock, splashing into the pond. “Legs are a bit shaky, but no big deal.” She ducks past the waterfall and as Sebastian follows, she floats on her back, glistening in the evening sun. “Water feels nice! Come join.” Sebastian floats nearby, reaching to twine his fingers with hers. Like otters. Above, the sky darkens, and the moon shines, reflecting in the pool’s glassy surface. Sage stares up in wonder, stars in her eyes. All that magic she loves to talk about…this must be it. These moments make Sebastian believe more and more.

#stardew valley #sebastian x reader #stardew valley smut #sdv smut #sebastian sdv #sdv sebastian #stardew valley bachelors #stardew fanfic #stardew sebastian #sebastian stardew #stardew valley sebastian #stardew valley 1.6 fest

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texasagocarafe · 3 months

Text

I. Hold | KING KENNY

word count: 800+

warnings: kissing(?)

genre: fluff, angst (if you squint)

a/n: this is real short but i'm going to wait a little bit before i post the longer ones trust 🤞🏽 happy reading!

The echoes of cheering fans seep through the walls of the locker room.

You’re wrapping Kenny’s hands as he prepares for his walkout. Your eyes stay focused on his hands while his coach acts as a hype man to rile Kenny up. His gloves glimmer from the reflection of the golden lights hanging from the ceiling, and you can smell remnants of his cologne in the air.

“And done.” Your bangles clink as you dust your hands.

“I love you, you know.” You look up to find Kenny already staring at you, a lazy smile adorning his face, his eyes twinkling with mischief. The unintelligible sounds of his coach have long silenced. You don’t know why you still can’t control the buzz in your stomach even after years of dating the man in front of you.

“I already know, you never let me forget it.” You roll your eyes and crack your knuckles, getting up from your kneeled position.

“Watch it.” He points a finger at you as he leans back into the backboard of his locker cabinet. “Say it back.” You look at him questioningly.

“Love you.”

“No.” You sigh and give in.

“IIIII love you.” You exaggerate and give him the vulnerability he so kindly asked for, feeling your heart swell as you speak the words.

“There we go, wasn't so hard, was it?”

A small smile paints your face before the screams of the fans in the stadium snap you back. You take in Kenny’s position on the bench and raise an eyebrow quizzically.

“Why do you seem so… relaxed?” Your spouse returns your questioning look.

“What? Should I not be?”

You roll your eyes in slight annoyance at his arrogance. “You really need to stop underestimating your opponents.” There’s a brief pause, the only sound being the muffled roar of the crowd outside.

He sits up straight and extends an arm to pull you onto his lap. You can’t help the yelp that escapes you, feeling the warmth of his touch seep through your clothes. His eyes wander over your figure, lingering on your thighs, and again, you catch the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the metallic tang of the locker room. He caresses your body with one of his hands while the other is wrapped around your waist for stability.

You try really hard to ignore how belated your heart is beating right now and how this man has managed to catch your breath with such a simple gesture. Kenny glides a hand up your shirt and practically gropes your bare back as he pulls you in for a kiss. You wrap an arm around his neck and the other grips the back of his head. He hums, and you feel the slyness of his lips raise into a smile. You disconnect from the kiss and see the daze in his eyes. You lightly slap his face, and he follows the slap, returning to your direct gaze with a lazy smile. He just… you… he’s so…

“What? Cat got your tongue?” He chuckles, and you ‘hmph’ in defiance. You get off his lap, but not before he hastens to stand up and pick you up from the ground. A slight scream leaves your lips as he connects his own to silence you. He places you back down and pats down your stray hairs from your very productive pre-game session.

“Come on, I’ve got a fight to win.”

Hand in hand, you both leave the locker room. The noise of the crowd amplifies as you approach the ring. Kenny’s grip tightens around your hand, and you can feel the energy palpitating in him.

“Remember, no showboating,” you tease, trying to mask your own anxiety with humour. He chuckles, squeezing your hand one last time before letting go.

“Can’t make any promises, love,” he winks, his voice dripping with arrogance. “You know I live for the applause.”

The bell rings, and the match starts with a flurry of punches. Despite his pre-game arrogance, Kenny's face hardens with newfound determination. He dances around his opponent, his movements quick and precise. He throws a few taunting jabs. The crowd roars with every hit, their energy feeding into the intensity of the match.

Your eyes never leave him. Every punch he takes fuels your anxiety. You crack your knuckles repeatedly.

You remember the countless hours spent watching him train, sometimes joining him. His dedication and discipline, the late nights, the early mornings, the sacrifices he’s made — all flood back to you. Despite his playful arrogance, you know how much this means to him.

Kenny throws one particularly hard hit, causing his opponent to stumble back. Your breath catches in your throat, and you stand straight. The crowd erupts in cheers as his opponent is knocked down onto the mat.

When the referee raises his hand in victory, people swarm the ring in celebratory fashion. Amidst the crowd, Kenny catches your eye and with a smirk, mouths, ‘I told you so’.

You chuckle as you shake your head. Cocky boy. No matter how confident he is, you know the depth of his determination and heart. And that’s what makes you love him even more.

#beta squad #king kenny #king kenny x reader #aj shabeel #aj shabeel x reader #niko omilana #niko omilana x reader #sharky #sharky x reader #chunkz #chunkz x reader #beta squad x reader

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swarvey · 2 months

Text

paper rings | harvey x f!reader

summary -> you decide to surprise harvey with a belated birthday gift; harvey tries to fight off some unwelcome thoughts. warnings -> none! harvey just has some horny thoughts. wc -> 3357

a/n: surprise, an update!!

i loved writing this chapter. i actually feel like this song could have fit well as this story's title as well!! very excited for the upcoming chapters, though i am a little sad to think this will eventually have to end </3

well, either way, hope you enjoy ! <333 seeing y'all comment and stuff honestly is so heartwarming, so thank you all!!!

ch. 10 | ch. 11 | ch. 12

paper rings masterlist

chapter eleven: state of grace -> "this is the golden age of something good and right and real."

Your eyes opened to the warmth of sunlight flowing through your window, a relaxed breath escaping you. A pleasant smile settled on your face as you sat up, rubbing your eyes and remembering the words Harvey had confessed to you the previous night.

I love you.

For a split second, you wondered if you dreamt it all, if it’d all been too good to be true.

Then, you saw that the bouquet was still missing from its usual spot on your wall, and you knew it had all been real.

You grinned, sitting up with a renewed energy. Finally, you were able to wrench out the phrase you craved to hear from your best friend. Despite the efforts — and pain — it took to get there, you still managed to do it, which, in your eyes, was all that really mattered.

You recalled the insecurities Harvey had spilled to you; more so, how he felt he didn’t deserve you. Out of everything that happened, those words hurt by far the most. You saw the torn, broken look in his eyes, knowing him well enough to see past it and realize his wounds weren’t fresh. You didn’t even want to know how long his horrid thoughts had stewed in his head. Probably way too long. What a terrible way to spend his birthday.

Then, an idea struck you — one that you knew would take the majority of the day and your best efforts, but you felt in your heart it would all be worth it to see his face light up. Besides, Harvey had never hesitated in the past to put you at the top of his list of priorities.

You figured it was time to give back.

“Forgive me.”

“Elliott, please—”

“I know,” the overly dramatic poet choked out, grasping Harvey’s hand with both of his as if his life depended on it. “It’s terrible of me to ask you this, I know, but please, forgive me for the trouble I caused, my friend. I just . . .” Elliott looked up at the doctor, his bottom lip trembling and eyes filled with guilt. “I just couldn’t stand the feeling of lying to Leah, and I knew she had no ill intentions, either, but— oh, I know it’s no excuse for what I did!”

After his birthday, Harvey decided it was finally time to reconnect with his two supportive friends, shooting them both quick texts to meet him at the Stardrop the following evening. He roughly explained everything that happened with you, not forgetting to mention the stinging silence he initially left you with. Elliott’s face dropped when he got to the part where you told him you knew about everything, how Leah had taken the big step to be the one to tell you. Fortunately, his friends were as understanding as ever, more happy than anything that he got the chance to reconcile with you.

Unfortunately, Elliott decided the guilt weighing on his shoulders could only be lifted by apologizing for nearly twenty minutes straight.

“And here I thought my life couldn’t get any worse,” Shane gruffed, only half joking. He proceeded to roll his eyes so hard Harvey worried he would hurt himself. “Fuckin’ hell, just forgive him already, would ya, doc? I can’t stand this anymore.”

Harvey scratched the back of his neck before placing his free hand on Elliott’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “It’s fine, Elliott, I promise,” he replied, unable to keep the amusement out of his tone. “It’s my fault for not telling her, after all. Besides, it all worked out, anyhow.”

“A-are you certain?” He leaned forward, nearly toppling over his seat onto the Stardrop’s floor. “How can you be so kind? It’s truly inspiring, doctor, you must let me buy you a meal for your generosity!”

“With what money, pal?”

Elliott fell back into his seat with a huff, managing a glare at his friend before sipping his drink. “With the money I made from selling my first novel, thank you oh-so very much.”

Harvey blinked in surprise, while Shane gawked at him. “Are you being serious?”

Elliott’s chest puffed up in pride. “Completely. Of course, my first patron was Leah, but I’m planning on having a live book reading at the library soon!” Harvey smiled warmly at the sight of his friend’s joyful expression, proud to see his hard work come to fruition.

Then, Shane frowned slightly and shifted in his seat. “What, so you didn’t even bother to ask me for one? C’mon, the least you could do after buggin’ me about this damn book for nearly a year is offer me a copy. Geez.”

A pause. “You . . . actually want one?”

“Yeah, yeah, save the sap, it’ll make me barf.” He paused. “It’s kid-friendly, right? I’ll get two, give one to Jas. Maybe one for Vincent, too, fuck it.”

Harvey could only laugh as he watched Elliott pull Shane into an unreciprocated hug, his eyes gleaming with grateful tears and he tightly wrapped his arms around him. Despite his loud, profanity-filled protests, there was a light in Shane’s gaze that hadn’t been there a couple seasons ago. After promising to see the therapist Harvey recommended to him, he’d slowly begun to make progress, even deciding to replace his usual beer at the saloon with a glass of pop instead.

“Alright, enough!” Shane finally regained his stance in his seat, running a hand through his ruffled hair. He mumbled something neither of them could hear, but Elliott beamed nonetheless.

“I hope you’ll save me one, Elliott,” Harvey said sincerely. “Though, by the looks of it, you might have quite the fan already.”

“Shut it, doc.”

Elliott let out a hearty laugh and gestured to Emily for an order. “Well then, my dear doctor, you must emphasize on your reunion with your lover,” he pressed on, looking at him eagerly, “but not before I order you a promised meal.”

“What’ll it be, gentlemen?” Emily asked as she wandered over, looking at the three with a bright smile. Her gaze stopped at Harvey. “Hey, what a nice surprise! I haven’t seen you here in a bit. I hope you’re doing alright, people have been saying they haven’t seen much of you lately.”

He cleared his throat, nodding. “There were a few . . . things, I had to deal with, but it’s all cleared up now.”

She hummed, but something about her look was a little too knowing. “Well, that’s all that matters, right? As long as you’re okay.” She leaned in a little then, close enough so she could whisper in his ear. “Haley’s just about ready to murder you, though. Thought I should give you a heads up.”

She smiled sympathetically when Harvey groaned, covering his face with his hands. He didn’t even bother to hear what Elliott ordered him and focused on the fact that one of your closest friends in town was probably plotting his murder.

“Everyone knows, don’t they?” he asked, voice muffled. He lowered his hands to see Shane hiding his smirk with his drink while Elliott sighed.

“I wish I could tell you otherwise, but yes,” the writer responded promptly. “I wouldn’t fear too much, though, especially if the two of you are on good terms! I’m sure she’ll clear the air.”

The door to the saloon opened, and — as if your mentioning had summoned you — you walked in wearing your work clothes, dirt and grass stains covering the front of your overalls. Your eyes met his immediately, and Harvey instantly looked away, feeling as if he had just seen his crush in the hallway. You tended to have that effect on him.

After the two of you shared a kiss the night before, he insisted on walking you home, tightly holding your hand the entire way. He was visibly reluctant to leave your side, allowing himself to, for once, be as clingy as he felt. When the two of you reached your front porch, he’d grabbed your hips and drew you closer to his body, looking at you with nothing but pure adoration.

“We have a long way to go, don’t we?” he asked softly, bringing a hand up to caress your cheek.

You hummed in agreement, turning slightly to kiss his palm. “Good thing we’ve got all the time in the world, right?” Your eyes seemed to glitter when he looked at you, his breath faltering.

Harvey didn’t know why your words made him feel the way he did — then again, he couldn’t explain a lot of things he felt when it came to you — but in that moment, a wave of gratefulness washed over him, and he couldn’t help but pull you in for another gentle kiss. He thought back to what you had told him all those years ago, how he had good karma, and he decided you might have been right after all. There was no other explanation as to why you were still in his arms after all the trouble he caused.

“You truly are my weakness,” he blurted suddenly. “My vulnerability, the crack in my defense. I think I would do anything for you.”

You laughed at his words, and the sound made his heart race. “You’ve been hanging out with Elliott too much.” You paused then, leaning in closer to his ear. “Is that a promise, Harvs? Anything?”

He shivered, swallowing hard. “Of course.”

Just when he thought he’d earned another taste of your lips — a rougher one maybe, one that led to your bedroom — you pulled away, sporting a mischievous half-smile.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you chirped happily. “Goodnight!”

Harvey let out another groan at the thought, trying to ignore the stir in his pants. We’ll take it slow, he reminded himself, not even noticing your figure appearing beside him. We have all the time in the world.

“Earth to Harvey, hello?” you sang, waving a hand in front of his face. “You there? Or is nobody home?”

He scowled as his friends stifled their laughter, though managed a smile when he turned to greet you. “Hello,” he sighed, pushing his glasses up. “Ignore them, please. I’m not sure why I associate with them.”

“Hey, a ‘thank you’ would be nice, buddy,” Shane said, voice dripping in leftover humor. “We’re the ones who’ve listened to all your little love-sick rants.”

You perked a brow. “Love-sick, huh?”

“Let’s go for a walk, shall we?” Harvey desperately suggested, taking out his wallet and throwing some coins on the table for his drinks. “I’ll talk to you two later. And, thank you,” he rushedly added. As he grabbed your hand and practically dragged you out of the saloon, he missed their lopsided grins at his words.

Harvey let out a long breath as he stepped outside, resting his hands on his hips. “I felt like I was suffocating in there,” he admitted, finding your hand once again.

You snorted. “Looked like it,” you replied, lacing your fingers with his. “I was looking for you, anyway. Did you get my text?”

He blinked, grabbing his phone out of his pocket with his other hand to find one unread message from you.

Y/N : you at the saloon? i’ve got a surprise for you

“A surprise?” he wondered aloud. “For me?”

“Yes, Harvey, that’s what I said.” You smiled at his embarrassed frown, leading him through the plaza toward the clinic. “C’mon, I’ve been working on it all day!”

Just as he was about to question you further, a figure with long blonde hair and a blue tank top marched in front of him, successfully cutting off his hold on you.

“Don’t think I’ll forgive you as easily,” Haley snapped, and Harvey flinched at her furious tone. “You’re a real lucky guy, you know that, right? ‘Cause if I were her, I would have taken those glasses and shoved ‘em right up your—”

“Haley! There you are,” Leah laughed awkwardly as she grabbed the blonde’s arm, attempting to tug her away. “We’re going to miss the movie, dear. Let’s go.” She turned to Harvey, and he was glad to be met with much kinder eyes. “I’m glad you’re alright, Harvey. We’ll see you around.” Leah’s eyes lit up. “Oh, and happy birthday! Even though it’s a day late.”

“Thank you,” he responded, anxiously glancing at Haley. A pout rested on her lips as her partner nudged her.

“Yeah, whatever, happy birthday, I guess,” she mumbled, and you laughed at her reaction. Her expression lightened after that, the ends of her mouth lifting slightly. “I expect a call later, okay?”

“Will do.” You waved at the couple as they walked away, grabbing Harvey’s arm and continuing to lead him. “She’s pretty mad, if you couldn’t tell.”

“Really?” he asked dryly, fiddling with his tie. “I thought she seemed quite happy to see me.” You rolled your eyes, excitedly bringing him up the stairs to the fountain. “What is it, exactly?”

“What’s, what?”

“The surprise.”

You huffed, walking past the fountain. “Well, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you, would it?”

“I . . . suppose not, no.”

“Then be patient, we’re almost there.”

You only stopped when the two of you reached the Community Center, two birds chirping curiously down at your arrival. Harvey examined the building, noticing how, despite it looking as beat up as it usually did, it felt more welcoming.

Before he could continue, you swiftly snatched his glasses off his face, covering his eyes with your hands.

“What—”

“Just go with it, Harvs, please? ”

The pleading tone of your request nearly sent him spiraling. Nearly.

Take it slow.

He nodded, swallowing thickly once again. You’re going to be the death of me, he thought. He almost voiced it to you the door opened, but was interrupted before he got the chance.

“I felt a little bad yesterday night,” you admitted, leading him somewhere unknown. “With everything going on between us, it was hard to plan something for your birthday.”

He sighed, a pang of guilt running through his chest. “Now, you know none of that is—”

“It doesn’t matter,” you interrupted. “It’s over now, and we’re . . . good. Better than good, I think.” Harvey smiled, wishing he could see your face. “And, even though it’s not really your birthday anymore, I still wanted to give you something better than a dried bouquet.”

“That bouquet means much more to me than you think. It’s all I need, really,” he said softly, then willed himself to say his next words. “You’re all I need.”

“And you’re being a big ‘ol softie.”

Suddenly, he felt your hands drop, slowly blinking his eyes open. Of course, at first, all he could make out were blurbs of green and white.

“Um—” Although he couldn’t see, Harvey could practically hear you roll your eyes as you passed him his glasses.

“Surprise.”

He couldn’t believe it.

In front of him was a completely refurbished room in the Community Center, the walls smooth and the flooring void of any faults. That, in itself, was impressive to him.

The room wasn’t exactly what caught his eye, though.

No, what caught Harvey’s attention was the various model planes scattered across the room, along with the small workbench in the corner.

“I had to go into the city to find those, it took me all day,” you explained, trying to read his reaction. His mouth remained parted as he walked around, taking his time to take in everything. “This is meant to be the Crafts Room. Mayor Lewis asked me to fix this place up a while ago, and that’s where I met the Junimos. Thought I’d add my own touch, though.”

Harvey nodded absentmindedly. He couldn’t bring himself to speak. Quite frankly, he was in shock, unable to believe what you had done for him. His gaze only pried away when a familiar squeak sounded beneath him. He smiled as Blueberry hugged his foot.

The spirit looked at him expectedly, as if asking, Do you like it?

“It’s—” He stopped then, finally turning to face you. Warm tears filled Harvey’s eyes as he stepped forward and engulfed you in his arms, burying your face in his neck. “It’s more than I could have ever asked for. Thank you.”

He felt you slump in relief, gladly wrapping your arms around him. “I’m glad you like it,” you breathed, pulling back to see his face. “You had me worried there for a second. I thought it was too much.”

“No, this is perfect.” Harvey laughed, bright and unlike he’d ever laughed before, and kissed you. “I can’t even find the words to explain how I feel.”

You grinned. “Maybe ‘happy’ could give you a good start.”

“No, that’s too big of an understatement.”

“Hm. ‘Joyous,’ then?”

“I believe those are synonyms, honey.”

You blinked, a blush creeping up your neck. Harvey didn’t notice, too busy walking over to the desk that seemed made for him. Blueberry poked your ankle, and you took it as a sign to stick out your hand. The Junimo happily walked up your arm, settling down on your shoulder and closing its eyes.

“This . . . this looks just like the one I had in my grandparents’ house as a kid,” he realized, eyes widening.

“You used to spend so much time sitting there, working on your planes, ignoring me,” you added playfully. “If you ever get bored, you can come here, now. Add to your collection. You can show them off to everyone, too, after I finish rebuilding everything.”

He flushed at that, turning to meet your eyes. “No, I couldn’t, i-it’s too embarrassing—”

“Harvey. If this —” You swept your arm around the room. “—is what you enjoy, you shouldn’t hide it. It’s an important part of you, and I know everyone in town would be impressed.” You gently tugged at his hand, holding it strongly in your own. “Plus, I find it very endearing, you know.”

He raised a brow, grabbing your other hand. “Really? Building model airplanes is something you look for in a partner?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

Harvey shook his head, tilting it as he studied your gaze. “This is still so surreal,” he muttered, glancing down at your interlaced fingers. “I feel like I’m dreaming.”

You nodded, then smiled. “You know, I never would have guessed this.” You lifted your hands slightly, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Now that it’s real, though, I’m not sure I’ll ever let you go.”

Harvey’s heart was just about ready to leap from his chest.

“You won’t ever have to,” he vowed. “Never again.”

“That’s a big promise.”

“It’s one I’m willing to make.”

“When did you get so bold?”

“When you became mine.”

Your eyes narrowed, flicking between his eyes and lips. “Is that what I am?” you questioned, voice light and innocent. “Yours?”

Slow, Harvey. You said you would take it slow.

He feigned a cough, looking away. “That’s what the bouquet meant, right?” he asked, raising one hand to swipe his mustache. “It means we’re official.”

The look you gave him was teasing, dangerous, but you covered it up with a laugh, starting to walk with him back towards the door. Blueberry had disappeared from your shoulder at some point; Harvey guessed even spirits grew tired of couples dancing around each other.

“Come on. Let’s go home.”

“‘Home’?”

You looked back at him, huffing. “We’re official, right? That means you get to help me finish up the chores for the day.”

He thought for a moment, then nodded.

Chores. He could do chores. He’d done plenty of chores with you before, when the ache in your grandfather’s back became too much and he needed a couple extra pair of hands. Chores would be good for him, Harvey thought. They would keep his mind off the uncomfortable tightness in his pants that’d been taunting him for hours, keep his dirty thoughts at bay, hopefully even keep some distance between the two of you, just for a little. Just until he could calm himself down and remind himself he was supposed to be going slow.

“You can spend the night, too.”

His face fell.

I’m screwed.

86 notes · View notes

inkykeiji · 1 year

Text

got me praying, man this hunger, and feeling something rotten

characters: akutagawa ryuunosuke x fem!reader x nakahara chuuya

genre: smut

notes: just a lil something about aku jerking off as chuuya fucks the life out of you hehe! please heed the warnings and stay safe! | title credit: sit next to me by foster the people

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, aku being a dirty nasty little voyeur, pretend siblings as a habit and inside joke between reader and chuuya (only mentioned once briefly and not by them), akutagawa’s pov, two mentions of mori, reader is an assassin, size difference (chuuya is taller than reader), minimal prep, rough sex, noncon secret audio recording, aku’s kinda toxic in his thoughts and ideals

words: 3.3k

synopsis:

One final glance, he promises himself as he straightens up, already starved for another glimpse of you, belated grey eyes floating to your form again. Your head lolls to the side as dainty fingers trace the ridges of Chuuya’s spine, your hazy gaze connecting with gunmetal, keeping his stare captive for a moment—pinioning him down, bolting his body in place, slashing him wide open to peel back his skin and pry apart his bones and examine his insides, the very deepest and darkest parts of himself, reveling in the way he squirms and fawns and bears it all to you, holding himself open for you, always—before, at last, you wink.

You knew. You’ve known all along.

Despite the fact that Akutagawa always dutifully attends these extravagant work Galas—parties thinly veiled beneath the word ‘functions’ that Mori enjoys throwing for ‘networking purposes’, held at one of his many mansions scattered across Japan—you’d be hard pressed to actually locate him at any of them.

Usually, he finds a quiet corner, hidden and out of the way, to spend the night in—far from the commotion and the conversations and the crowds.

Tonight, however, he leans against the railing of the mansion’s balcony, overlooking the ballroom, a glass of half-finished champagne dangling between slim fingers, and he watches.

Because tonight, something has enraptured his attention.

This is the first Gala you’ve been permitted to attend, limited spaces reserved for upper-level Port Mafia members only.

A blur of crimson and onyx, you whirl across the marble floor in Chuuya’s arms, narrowly but expertly avoiding the other couples, your fingers loosely interwoven behind his neck, playing with the little curling tufts of copper at the nape, his hands on your lower back, fingers splayed wide, tips resting on the swell of your ass.

Like Akutagawa’s little sister, you too were born with no ability. You had been brought in to fill the gaping hole Kyouka’s absence has left—the role of an unassuming assassin; cute, sweet, deadly—and had been doing a fair job so far despite the fact that you’re an adult, with Chuuya assigned to train you in hand-to-hand combat, and Gin to train you in stealth.

It’s a position Akutagawa has refused for his own younger sister many times.

But your talents seem to be befit for it, effortlessly able to morph into whatever countenance the job calls for—the sweet, naive little girl; the playful, saucy little minx; the sad, desperate little baby—resulting in both men and women instantly lowering their guard around you (there’s no way such a sweet thing could ever be dangerous, right?) just before you strike and slit their throat from ear to ear.

Your laughter rings out over the crowd, gently tugging him from his thoughts, eyes drawn back to your form. You’ve ceased your dancing, Chuuya using his full body weight to back you against the wall as you giggle and gaze up at him, caged between his chest and plaster.

Large hands are pressed flat, fingers splayed, on either side of your shoulders as his hips keep your thighs spread, your obscenely tiny cocktail dress stretched as far as it can be, ridden-up material cutting into your skin.

Chuuya’s talking to you, his body closing in on yours—tighter and tighter and tighter—as his lips work, their movements soft and smooth as silk. Akutagawa can barely imagine the words that must be flowing from his skilled mouth.

Your eyes are dark, glittering beneath Chuuya’s shadow, daring him to do all of the things he’s murmuring to you. His forehead pushes against your own, mouths so close his lips must be brushing yours as he speaks, and Akutagawa cranes his neck, attempting to achieve a better view.

It’s absolutely disgusting, deplorable, that the two of you are acting in such a manner, let alone in public, and Akutagawa can hardly believe no one is objecting to something so obscene. Disgust unfurls in his belly, sticky and thick and tainted with a coat of acidic jealousy, snuffing out the few flares of inexplicable, unmistakable desire.

“They seem a little close for siblings, don’t you think?”

“That’s because they aren’t real siblings,” Higuchi responds dutifully, head bowed slightly. “It’s a lie they used to use when they were kids, to con people into giving them money or food. I guess they just...Haven’t fully grown out of it yet,” she shrugs.

Ah. That makes more sense; the two of you look nothing alike. Briefly, Akutagawa wonders if Mori knows this, and concludes that he probably does—probably did, the moment Chuuya brought you into his office, introducing you as his ‘little sister’ and asking for a job.

“How do you know this?”

“I know things,” she says, body bristling, a little defensive. “I hear things, you know,” she makes a vague motion with her hand as way of explanation.

He doesn’t know, but he doesn’t care enough press the issue. He supposes it doesn’t matter either way.

“Wait,” Higuchi begins slowly, turning to look at her superior with widened eyes. “Why are you interested?”

“No reason,” he responds, downing his drink before shoving the gleaming champagne flute at her. “Get me another one of these.”

And then she’s off, nodding and murmuring his honorific to herself as she bustles away, nothing more than a bothersome bug, swatted away with a single sweep of his hand.

Grey eyes scan the crowd again, picking you out with practiced ease, something hard and heavy sinking in his chest when he finds both of your hands in one of Chuuya’s, a devious smile painted across your face as you back away, leading him into the shaded depths of the hallway, Chuuya’s steps languid and lazy as he allows you to pull him along willingly, readily.

Akutagawa’s body is moving before his mind can even comprehend it, forcibly switched into autopilot as it desperately follows you, allowing your aura to string him along like a dog on a leash, lovesick, hopeless.

It’s easy to tail the two of you, easy to hide behind pieces of mahogany furniture and large houseplants entirely undetected as you stumble down the dim hallways, legs entwined and lips locked, tripping over each other’s ankles only to catch yourselves a second before you tumble to the floor.

The sound of spit-slicked lips slipping and smacking echoes around the two of you—a borderline grotesque sound, sopping and squeaky—but neither seem to care, entirely absorbed in one another to notice much of anything at all.

It’s almost as if you’re attempting to devour each other, mouths smashing together as you attempt to swallow the other’s tongue, the drool leaking from the corners smeared across your chins and your jaws, shimmering in the low light; ravenous hands pawing at the hem of your dress and the buckle of his belt, gripping and tugging with a sort of unparalleled urgency—something Akutagawa has certainly never seen before, much less experienced himself—fingers vying and nails starved for the naked flesh of one another.

The two of you fall into the first open door you come across—a bedroom, you got lucky, one of many vacant rooms in this creaky old manor.

It isn’t exactly uncommon for Port Mafia members to stay the night, especially if they’ve had too much to drink or sniff or swallow. Akutagawa assumes you’ll be staying the night this time, too.

You must be really fucking drunk—or maybe you just don’t care, unbothered by the thought of someone walking in, of someone seeing—because Chuuya doesn’t even shut the door properly, giving the corner a halfhearted kick in a poor attempt to close it as the two of you stagger past it, the latch bouncing against its strike plate, failing to catch and click into place.

Well, if it truly doesn’t matter to you that much, then it doesn’t matter if Akutagawa stays to watch, right? Surely Chuuya would’ve taken the time and care to fully close the door, to make sure it was shut good and tight, if this was an issue or concern for either of you, wouldn’t he?

Of course he would have.

So it shouldn’t be a problem when Akutagawa presses a cheek against the ornate doorframe, the gap left by the door just wide enough for him to use a singular eye to peep in.

“Chuu—ah!” you’re crying out as Chuuya shoves you onto the bed, a dark chuckle oozing from his lips.

The mattress dimples beneath his hands and knees as he crawls over your heaving body, sitting back on your thighs.

“I want this off,” he’s saying, words slurred slightly, fingers creeping beneath the hem of your satiny dress and pushing upward; up past your hips, past your waist, past your breasts, until your arms are raising obediently, allowing him to tug the garment from your body completely.

Scarlet lace, delicate and imbued with tiny gems, coats the most intimate curves and contours of your body, bra glittering in the golden light with each rise of your chest.

“Fuck,” Chuuya breathes as he looks down at you, palms sliding up your stomach to grab at your breasts.

Akutagawa agrees—you look fucking breathtaking, all smooth dew-kissed skin that almost shimmers in the low light, undoubtedly softer than anything he’s ever touched, sweeter than anything he’s ever tasted, mouth watering at the thought; and a pair of jewels for eyes, shaded by thick lashes, that beg Chuuya to do all the things Akutagawa wishes he could do to you, all the things that Akutagawa’s wanted to do to you since the moment he saw you, all of the things he’s sure Chuuya had been murmuring to you only minutes ago, the heel of his palm grinding into his already hard cock through his trousers.

“I can’t wait to fucking ruin you,” Chuuya continues, the words still airy on his tongue, eyes still glued to your tits as his fingers grasp and knead and massage, and you laugh—a pretty little melody that has your neck arching off the pillow—a teasing little smile spread across your lips; bold, enticing.

“Well, get on with it already,” you say, and Chuuya’s hands cease their movement.

For a moment everything is still, your connected gazes thick and unblinking—challenging, almost—and Akutagawa expects him to hit you, a backhand hard enough to whip your head to the side, to leave an imprint of knuckles across your cheek, but Chuuya only laughs, the sound tangled with a deep growl rumbling in his throat.

“You little brat,” he’s snarling out, but it doesn’t sound mean, or harsh, or any of the things Akutagawa would think it to, words spit from between a sharp, toothy smile.

And then his fingers are tearing through the lace, fingertips clawing holes through the dainty fabric like flames licking through a spiderweb as it practically melts in his hands, nothing more than stringy tatters of ruined garments as he rips them from your body.

There’s no prep, Chuuya seemingly too impatient to waste any time with that, and the sweet little hiss that slithers out from between your teeth, features twisted in agony, as he shoves his cock into you has Akutagawa’s cock twitching eagerly against his palm.

He rubs it harder in response, crude and messy and desperate, palm cupping it through his pants and giving it a few halfhearted squeezes; nothing more than pathetic half-pumps, unable to jerk it properly with two layers of clothing in the way.

It’s so immature, so fucking juvenile, dirty and disgusting and downright shameful, but he doesn’t fucking care.

Chuuya’s hips start pounding hard and fast the instant he bottoms out, the grip of his fingers so tight on your hips that they’re sinking into the flesh, creating deep dips that’ll surely bear his name in the morning, signed in blotchy little ovals of navy and violet and splatters of broken blood vessels beneath your skin.

The pace is merciless, pleasure and sheer force rippling your flesh oh-so-prettily with the flexing of his hips.

Chuuya’s talking to you, utter filth spilling from his lips, obscenities huffed out on the tails of laughter that mingle with the sounds he’s quite literally fucking out of you, every drive of his cock pushing another melody up your throat and onto your tongue, so dirty it has torrents of heat flooding Akutagawa’s cheeks in rushes, pooling beneath the skin as it seeps through the tissues and staining them a dusty pink.

But Akutagawa’s barely listening; Akutagawa can barely concentrate on anything at all, his own pleasure muffling his ears, heavy breaths he keeps trying to suppress building in his chest, dense and suffocating. And it’s pathetic, really—he’s barely touched himself at all, cock straining against his trousers in desperate yearning, yet he can already feel those telltale sparks tingling in his gut, cinders that smolder in waiting, ready to catch fire at any moment.

Akutagawa’s cock is aching, his hips giving sloppy, premature little thrusts into his palm—insatiable, uncontrollable—and a whine reverberates in his throat, swallowed down with the pools of spit collecting in the crevices of his mouth.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, the word garbled and drowning in saliva.

This isn’t enough, he needs more, ramming his hand down his trousers without even bothering to undo the button, the waistband digging into his forearm tight enough to turn the skin a sickening bone white, just shy of cutting off his circulation.

A smooth hand wraps around the base of his cock and squeezes twice, hard, a futile attempt to ward off his embarrassingly impending orgasm.

From this angle he has a perfect view of your bouncing tits and contorting face—the way your brow scrunches together, relaxes, then tightens up again; the way your lashes flutter, flickering the whites of your eyes as they roll in your skull; the way your mouth, bitten raw and glimmering with saliva, stays pried open in a perfect little ‘o’ by the steady stream of vocalized pleasure pouring past it.

And, Christ, the noises you’re making are so fucking gorgeous—broken mewls and soft whines and airy moans—his free hand fumbling around in his pocket, struggling to pull his phone free from its confines, desperate to record what he can for later use.

It’s a difficult feat to perform with one hand, phone flipping open with the sharp click of plastic against plastic, thumb straining to hit that little red RECORD button, missing it twice before finally succeeding.

The feeling of triumph is short-lived, though, because he’s going to mess the whole recording up beyond repair if he doesn’t quiet down, if he doesn’t shut the fuck up.

Stubborn little whimpers keep climbing up his throat, rough and painful as they hitch and tangle with his hardly suppressed gasps, choked remnants tumbling past his mouth. Teeth slice into his bottom lip, bursts of copper staining his tongue as blood oozes from the fresh wound, the lines of his gums tinged bright crimson.

The strokes of his hand match the snap of Chuuya’s hips, jerking his cock hard and fast, just like how Chuuya’s fucking you, and if he focuses hard on your face, he can almost imagine it’s him fucking you, his palm slick with sweat, his grip pulsing in time with the noises spilling from your lips, simulating the throbbing of your cunt.

Heat begins to coil deep in the pit of his belly, cinders converging into something tight and fluttery and scorching, and he barely has the decency to stifle his groan of disappointment, forehead knocking against the doorframe, brow cinching and molars grinding as he tries to ward the eruption off for just a little longer, front teeth digging further into the gaping wound weeping on his bottom lip.

Tiny spikes of pain sear through his face; up his cheeks and down his neck, the sensation doing nothing to douse, dim, dull the roiling ball of fire in his gut.

“God, you’re so—so fucking good for me—take my cock so well—” Chuuya’s groaning, voice all ragged rasp, rough and gasping.

It’s true, you do take his cock well, and Chuuya gives it to you well, too, the smooth muscles in his thighs almost mesmerizing, graceful as they glide beneath his skin despite his borderline vicious movements.

Akutagawa’s thighs, in contrast, are beginning to tremble, little jolts of pleasure skittering up his legs and wriggling under his flesh in droves. His whole body is wound tight and tense, jaw clenched with such ferocity that it’s beginning to ache, muscles gone hard and stiff as if he’s physically trying to hold off his imminent orgasm, pushing back against an invisible surge.

Short, sharp huffs of breath are escaping his nose now, materializing in little droplets of condensation on the wood, wet and humid against his upper lip. The pumping of his hand accelerates, perfectly in sync with the brutal plunge of Chuuya’s hips, and his lids begin to droop, heavy and weighted with pleasure. It’s a struggle to haul them open again, vision blurring in and out of focus as he tries to concentrate, desperate to see how beautiful you look when you cum, ecstasy bleeding around the edges of his sight, bright and overexposed.

Because you’re getting close, too, Akutagawa can tell. It’s easy to see, obvious, evident in the pitchy wails that fade into the sweetest little rasps—poor imitations of the words they were supposed to be; evident in the way your spine arches so artfully off the mattress, each vertebra working in unison to form a perfect curve as your hips push towards Chuuya’s; evident in your flexing, trembling thighs and curling, vying fingers, grappling at the sheets and Chuuya’s shoulders, nails scraping against linen and skin.

Another three pumps of Chuuya’s hips, another three pumps of Akutagawa’s fist, and you’re both cumming in tandem, so hard it whites his vision and wipes his mind, so hard it kicks his breath from his chest in a pained wisp of an expletive, his orgasm amplified by your gorgeous little noises. Thick streams of cum explode all over his fist and briefs, burning and sticky and so, so much that it’s soaking through his underwear and into his suit pants, a large, uneven, dark patch staining his right thigh.

He can feel it, dribbling down his inner leg in large globs, viscous and gummy and leaving broad strokes, rapidly cooling trails in its wake.

There’s no way he doesn’t look a mess, strands of ink clinging to his temples and the back of his neck, soaked with salt and sweat, cheeks tinted with exertion, chest stuttering as he tries to swallow down tattered breaths in a feeble attempt to keep from drawing attention to himself.

There’s no way anyone wouldn’t be able to guess what he had just been doing in a mere instant, if they saw him.

Chuuya isn’t faring much better, to be honest, body collapsed atop of yours, heaving back shimmering with a sheen coat of perspiration, gleaming with each rise and fall as it catches in the light. Akutagawa doesn’t even remember Chuuya cumming—not that it matters, you’re the only reason he’s even here at all—too busy drowning in the intense bliss of his own orgasm to have noticed at all, all senses suffocated as the pleasure absorbed him, ate him up, swallowed him down, then spit him back out.

Finally, Akutagawa pushes off the doorframe with a weak arm, muscles spent and shrivelled with pleasure, wincing a little at the deep indent he’s sure the wood of the frame left on his forehead.

You knew. You’ve known all along.

His cock gives one last spurt in response—pitiful, pathetic, and entirely instinctive—and you smile.

And no matter how hard he tries, no matter how much he doesn’t want to be, he’s nothing more than warm, gooey putty in your soft palms.

He’ll never be anything more than that.

#akutagawa smut #chuuya smut #nakahara chuuya smut #akutagawa x reader #chuuya x reader #nakahara chuuya x reader #whewwwww #love aku so much waah

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thiswaytwoinfinity · 4 months

Text

moonstruck • rhett abbott x fem!reader, perry abbott x fem!reader

I wrote this for @sorchathered’s birthday rom com celebration! Happy Belated Birthday! Thank you for letting me combine two of my favorite things: Lew and ‘Moonstruck’. I know it was your celebration but that was a gift to me 😉

Warnings: alcohol consumption, implied smut, impure thoughts about rhett abbott, being engaged to perry abbott (if you’ve seen the movie, you’ll get it)

Note: I adore this movie with all my heart so I tried to fill this with lots of nods to the iconic moments. But it also means that characters might be a bit less true to their Outer Range selves in order to make the story work.

Maybe it should have been a red flag that you hadn’t met Perry’s brother until after you were engaged.

But then again, the whole thing had been a bit of a whirlwind — and you had met Amy. Sweet, smart, beautiful Amy who had been the main reason you said “yes” when Perry had surprised you with a ring at dinner just a few months into your relationship.

“I can’t imagine anyone who’d be a better stepmother to Amy,” he’d said at the time and how was anyone supposed to say no to that?

And if you were a bit hesitant about the whole thing, your mother had done her best to reassure you over steaming mugs of tea at her weathered kitchen table. “You love his daughter, and that’s the important part,” she had said, rubbing her thumb gently over the back of your hand. “It’s better to be devoted to your family, rather than any man. Especially a cowboy.”

You sighed. “He’s not that kind of cowboy, Mama. He works with his dad on the family ranch.”

“Good,” she responded decisively, standing up to make some more tea. “Cowboys are nothing but heartbreak. They’ll always love the rodeo, the animals, the adventure, the life more than they’ll love you.”

And so that was that. You focused your energy on building a relationship with Amy, got to know Royal and Cecelia and went through the motions of starting to plan a simple, courthouse wedding.

Perry didn’t have strong feelings about the big day, having done the whole song and dance once before, but two weeks into planning, he surprised you with the announcement that he had to go away for a while on business — and he had one big favor to ask.

“It’s been tearing me up inside,” he said, arm a little too tight around your waist as you sat on the couch, TV on mute in the background. “I just can’t get married without my brother standing up with me.”

“So why not just invite him?”

Perry scoffed. “Rhett is … real fucking stubborn. And he decided a long time ago that he didn’t care about anything I had to say.” He paused, tightening his rip just a fraction before letting you go and dramatically sighing, leaning back into the couch cushions. ��But maybe if you were to ask him to come … explain that you want this to mark a fresh new start for all of us, as a family. As Amy’s family. Maybe he’d be willing to listen.”

It was the promise of being Amy’s family, of giving her the happy ending that had seemingly been ripped away from her when her mother disappeared that brought you to the Abbott ranch, eyes squinting against the harsh sunlight as you approached Rhett Abbott to ask for forgiveness on behalf of his brother.

Now this is a cowboy, you thought to yourself as you watched his broad shoulders flex under his tee shirt as he worked on repairing a broken section of fencing. The back of his neck was turning pink and the ends of his hair curled with sweat under his cap, but he seemed unbothered as he continued working, big hands moving quickly and competently.

“Rhett? Rhett Abbott?” you asked, and when he wheeled around and those blue eyes landed on yours, it felt like your heart stopped for a second.

“Can I help ya?” he drawled, pulling his baseball cap off his head and wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his muscled forearm. He was all golden skin and sharp cheekbones, cheeks flushed pike from the heat and exertion and a smirk that was designed to give women the naughtiest of thoughts.

Stop it. You’re engaged. To his brother. Behave yourself.

You must have taken longer than you realized to reply, because that smirk turned into a grin as Rhett leaned forward and offered out his hand. “Nice to meet you. Now, what can I do for a beautiful woman such as yourself?”

Your face felt like it was on fire as you shook his hand, warm and calloused and completely dwarfing yours. When he didn’t seem to recognize your name after you introduced yourself, you continued, “I’m uh … Perry’s … fiancée, I guess.”

“You’re engaged to Perry?” he asked, arms crossing in front of his chest and you weren’t sure if he was insulting you with his tone of shock.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s pretty recent. The whole thing’s been kind of … fast. But we’re planning the wedding and he wants you to stand there with him, be his best man —“

“And why isn’t he out here askin’ me this?” Rhett interrupted sharply, eyes stormy under the brim of his cap.

“He, um, he’s out of town right now … and anyway he said …” you paused, somehow sensing that the truth — he said you’d be more likely to say ‘yes’ if I asked — wouldn’t go over well. “And well, I wanted to meet you and everything. Get to know the whole family before I become a part of it.”

“Well, we’ve met now. Congratulations on the wedding.”

With that, he turned his back on you, returning to the fence and summarily dismissing you. Once again, you weren’t sure if you should be offended by his actions, but clearly you had accidentally stumbled into some kind of family tension that Perry had not warned you about.

“So that’s it?” You asked, taking a step closer to him. Rhett grunted as he continued working on the fence. “What, you’re just going to brush off your brother’s request? Shouldn’t a wedding bring family together and not tear them apart?”

“You don’t know anythin’ about me and Perry,” the cowboy said, his voice cold and his eyes not even looking up for a second.

“So tell me,” you pleaded, making your way closer to him and oh, that might have been a mistake. You could smell him at this distance, the faintest hint of his woodsy body wash, the scent of sun on skin, the tang of sweat.

It almost made you salivate with want — your body had never reacted this way to a man before, and you quickly stepped back and put some space between you two. A safe, platonic distance. “Is … is there something I should know before I marry him? Don’t you think it’s only right that I know the man I’m marrying?”

Finally, Rhett huffed out a sigh and turned around and you were struck again by how blue his eyes were underneath that hint of annoyance.

“Look, you really should be askin’ Perry all this, not me,” he bit out. “I’m not staying here much longer anyway, so you don’t even need to get to know me. You’ll only ever see me at holidays and shit like that.”

“Where are you going?”

“Rodeo circuit,” Rhett responded, a hint of pride in his voice. “Got a spot on a semi-pro tour, so I’ll be on the road soon enough.”

You congratulated him faintly, images of this gruff, gorgeous man on the back of a bull filling your brain and making you a bit weak in the knees.

“Yeah, so it’s all good. I’ll be outta your way soon enough and you and Perry can have your wedding with no issues,” Rhett concluded.

He started to turn back to his work and you felt a surge of panic run through you, like if you didn’t manage to convince him to stick around right this second, you’d never have the chance again. (And you could unpack why, exactly, it was so vital for you to have your fiancé’s brother around as much as possible later, in the shaming quiet of your bedroom.)

“Well, how about this then,” you start, enjoying the way Rhett’s brows lifted under the brim of his cap, his eyes dancing with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Spend some time with me and Amy before you go — just to help me get to know her better. I want to build a strong relationship with her, she’s my number one priority in all this. And I know she adores her Uncle Rhett. So maybe you can just … help us bond?”

The cowboy hesitated a moment, his eyes roaming all over your face in a way that made your cheeks heat up. He must have found what he was searching for because he ultimately pulled off his work glove once more and held out a big, calloused hand.

“For Amy,” he said and you felt your face split open with a bright grin.

“For Amy,” you agreed, grasping his hand. And yet, despite the warmth of his hand engulfing yours, despite the fact that you managed to convince him to give you a chance, despite the fact that you should have been pleased with yourself, you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach.

Oh, I’m in trouble.

That sinking feeling only got worse the more time you spent with Rhett, the more you got to feel the full weight of his attention on you, the more you saw the way he lit up around Amy, always willing to go out of his way to make her happy.

Unfortunately for you, what would make her happy right now was to go for a ride with Uncle Rhett and you — a Wyoming native who had, shockingly, never been on the back of a horse before.

“How did you grow up here without ever ridin’ a horse?” Rhett asked you incredulously when you confessed your lack of experience after Amy dragged you to meet him in the stables, all wide, pleading eyes. “It makes no sense.”

You shrug uncomfortably, staring at the horses relaxing in the stables with a critical eye. “My dad was a cowboy but he died when I was little. My mama grew up Cheyenne, so we moved back there for a long time and only came to Wabang when my granddaddy left her the bakery. So I just … never learned.”

You wrapped your arms around your torso as you spoke, curling in on yourself in embarrassment, eyes self-consciously locked on the far wall so you could avoid seeing the judgement on Rhett’s face. It was why you startled slightly when you felt Amy’s little arms hug you out of nowhere, the feeling of her tight squeeze making you let out a deep breath of relief.

“Don’t worry! Uncle Rhett can teach you, he and dad taught me and he’s really good!” she assured you and you laughed softly.

“Thanks, Ames,” you said, softly brushing some of the hair that escaped her braid back from her face. You cast a tentative look up at Rhett, who was smiling softly at you. “Whaddya say, Uncle Rhett? Willing to take on a new student?”

The cowboy said nothing, though his eyes were bright with amusement as he made his way over to one of the stalls to start getting one of the horses ready for you, Amy bounding behind him.

You couldn’t stop smiling as the 9-year-old narrated everything her uncle was doing, beaming brightly when he praised her for remembering certain tidbits that he had shared with her over the years. Her enthusiasm went a long way towards making you more comfortable, as did the teasing words and glances that Rhett shot your way the whole time.

But that smile was wiped right off your face, when he held out his hand and beckoned you over. “C’mere, I’ll help you get into the saddle,” he said softly and you felt all of your blood rush into your face.

“Aren’t there like, stairs or something I could use?” You asked, knowing that the second you put your hand in his, all of the tempting thoughts about him that you’d successfully shoved down would come rushing back into your head. His blue eyes shone as he shook his head, explaining that they put it away somewhere and it would take too long to find right now.

“I won’t let ya fall,” he said, those beautiful eyes locked on yours. “Promise.”

As Amy urged you along from the back of her own horse, you tentatively reached forward and took Rhett’s big hand in yours. It was like you could hear your heart beating in your ears as he tugged you over and instructed you to put one foot in the stirrups and your free hand on the saddle horn.

“I can give you a boost if ya need,” he added, his voice low and grumbly and far, far too close. You must have nodded absently, because the next thing you knew, Rhett placed your second hand on the saddle horn and moved around to lightly grasp your waist.

Your skin burned where you felt those hands on you and even though he kept them in a perfectly respectable place — perfectly polite for someone who was engaged to his brother — you couldn’t help but imagine the heat of them in other, less savory places on your body. The way those calloused palms would feel brushing over your lower back, how his hands would span the entire distance of your neck, how those long fingers would feel filling up your —

“Ready?” he asked, hot breath against the back of your neck.

“I think so,” you responded weakly, and you felt him chuckle. He murmured a low countdown and at the number “three” you hoisted yourself up and swung one leg over to the other side of the saddle, feeling a little lightheaded at his little grunt of effort as he helped lift you up off the ground.

Once you were in and settled, you expected him to back away, but instead, Rhett leaned over your lap to gather up the reins and hand them to you.

“There ya go. You’re a natural,” he said, voice still gritty enough to feel like a gut-punch when it was paired with the heat of his gaze on your face. He was so close and so beautiful and you could catch the faintest whiff of that intoxicating, woodsy scent if you just leaned a little closer —

“Let’s goooooo,” Amy called, wiggling a little impatiently in her saddle and effectively startling your out of our fantasies.

You’ve gotta stop this. You’re engaged, for chrissakes.

“We’re comin’, we’re comin’,” Rhett grumbled, heading over to his own horse and swinging into the saddle with grace. “You gonna be late for some cartoons or somethin’?”

The pair set out, with you slightly behind them, head still swimming with shameful thoughts of your fiancé’s brother and face still burning. It took a while for you to let the pair’s teasing distract you from the feeling of guilt that had made a home in your stomach since the day you met Rhett, but eventually you were able to let go and enjoy your time on the trail.

And if you stared at the ceiling later that night, mind replaying the way Rhett’s eyes darkened and his lips turned up into a little smirk when he helped you down off the horse at the end of your outing, well, nobody needed to know about that.

The air at the rodeo was electric, the excitement infectious and the smell of fried food making everyone salivate as they made their way to the stands. You hadn’t been to the rodeo since high school, more interested in chatting with your friends or trying to spot your crush than in the actual events, but this night was making you regret all of those years you ignored its presence.

It helped that Amy was practically vibrating with excitement, tugging you around by the hand as she babbled on and on about her favorite food stalls and rattling off stats about the various bull riders. Of course, none of them compared to Uncle Rhett in her mind, but her knowledge of the sport was truly impressive.

“— but the bull they gave Uncle Rhett that time was a bad one, everyone knew it, and anyway he got another shot and that time he came in first place because he’s the best —“

“Amy, Amy, slow down,” you chuckled, head spinning as you tried to both keep up with the conversation and keep her from crashing into anyone at the same time.

“Come on, we have to get popcorn before the bull riding starts, I’m always in the stand for Uncle Rhett,” she powered on, not even pausing for a second as she continued on her mission, a crisp five dollar bill in her hand, courtesy of Cecilia. “There! Come on, come on!”

You could feel the heels of your shoes practically skid in the dirt as she took off towards the line and you had to stop short when she finally, abruptly stopped walking to join in. You took a deep breath, relieved to be able to pause for a second and take in the atmosphere, when you hear her shriek beside you.

Your heart stopped for a second as you wheeled around to spot her, only for it to skip a beat for a completely different reason when you realized that Rhett had snuck up behind her.

His grin was blinding as he picked her up and swung her around in a tight circle, her delighted squeals flying through the air. It only got wider and more brilliant when she began playfully hitting his chest after her put her down, and he pretended that her blows were about to knock him down.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist,” he got out between laughs, and you couldn’t stop your own smile from breaking out across your face.

“I almost had a heart attack when she screamed like that,” you admitted and his cobalt eyes moved from Amy to meet yours.

“My apologies, ma’am,” he said with an exaggerated drawl, playfully tipping his cowboy hat at you in mock apology. You had to fight the urge to duck your head as you felt your face heat up at his actions.

What was this effect that he had on you? You had never been the type to giggle and blush at any guy before Rhett, but there was something about him that just made you feel like a teenager with her first crush all over again.

“Apology accepted, cowboy,” you managed to get out and his eyes danced with mischief. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your big ride?”

“I was, I just had to come say hi to my favorite lady,” Rhett said, giving a gentle tug to the end of Amy’s ponytail. She looked up at him with a giant smile, clearly pleased to hear that she was her uncle’s “favorite,” and your heart melted at the sight. He gently pushed her along when it was her turn to order popcorn, and you stepped out of the line as she made her way up.

“So, you’re sticking around for my ride?” he asked.

“Of course,” you responded, a little surprised that he thought you weren’t here to watch him alongside his family. “Wouldn’t miss it. I haven’t even been to the rodeo in years, it’s really exciting to know one of the competitors.”

“Well, hopefully I manage to make your return to the rodeo an exciting one,” he said, hands settling on his waist, right next to his big, silver belt buckle.

You were grateful that Amy bounded back over to the two of you then, effectively preventing you from all of the dirty thoughts that you were about to have about what might rest behind that gaudy buckle. Rhett gave his niece another hug — and sent a wink your way that you were definitely not going to spend the night thinking about — before you went your separate ways.

By the time you made it back to the Abbotts in the stands, you were just as excited for Rhett’s ride as Amy was.

Your heart was in your throat for the entirety of the bull riding competition, because of course, Wabang’s hometown hero had to go last. When it was finally his turn, Amy gripped your arm tightly as you both watched, unblinking, for them to open the gate and begin his ride. You weren’t sure you took a single breath for the entirety of his time, those 8 seconds feeling like an eternity as you watched Rhett hold onto that bull for dear life.

When the buzzer finally sounded and he was back on his feet, it was like all of the blood in your body came rushing back into your veins, heartbeat thumping in your ears.

And then, there it was, right at the top of the leaderboard: R. Abbott.

Amy’s excited cheer was more like a shriek as the four of you jumped up and down in the stands, popcorn trampled below your feet as you celebrated with his family. With your new family.

And if you wanted to believe that Rhett was looking at you, in particular, as he pounded his chest with pride, well, you allowed yourself that one, tiny indulgence.

You were still breathless as you made your way out of the stands a little while later, following Royal, Cecelia and Amy as they made their way to find and congratulate Rhett in person. The four of you were almost at the riders’ entrance when you heard someone call your name from the crowd.

“Evening,” Royal said, tipping his hat at Joy Hawk after she managed to get everyone’s attention.

“Hi there Royal, Cecelia,” she said, nodding at them both in turn before turning to Amy. “Hi Amy. How’re you doing, sweetie?”

The 9-year-old excitedly told her all about Rhett’s ride as she smiled and agreed that it had been “one heck of a ride.” After a minute, she turned to you and said you name again. “Could I speak to you for just a moment? One-on-one?”

“O-okay,” you agreed, confused as to what she could possibly want.

After giving you a look that you translated to “we’re here if you need us,” Cecelia explained that they would go and wait for Rhett while you chatted with the deputy sheriff. “I’m sure you’ll just be a moment,” she added, before taking Amy by the hand and leading her away with one last look.

“Is … is everything okay?” you asked tentatively as Joy sighed deeply.

“I would have preferred not to be the one to tell you this, but, well, I can’t seem to get ahold of Perry —“

“He’s out of town,” you said quickly. “Is he okay?”

“Far as I know he is,” she reassured you before taking another deep breath. “I saw you two had filed for a marriage license and well, the thing is, he’s still married. To Rebecca.”

“But she … left. She’s not part of their lives anymore. Not part of Amy’s life,” you said, not quite following what she was telling you.

“Right, right. She’s a missing person. But see, the thing is, as long as she’s a missing person — and we don’t know that she died, god forbid — Perry is still legally married to her. Their marriage is still valid until either they manage to file for divorce or she’s declared … dead.”

“Oh.”

The news hit you like a ton of bricks. What did this mean for you? For your relationship? You had been planning a wedding and this whole time, Perry was still married? So what was the point of all of it?

“Now, you two can still have a wedding, I’m not gonna stop you from that,” Joy continued, her tone soft and comforting. “Y’all just won’t be legally married until this all gets sorted out.”

“And … how long would that take?”

Joy sighed heavily, her hands coming to rest on her hips. “I don’t know. Depends on whether or not Rebecca … comes back.”

You nodded absently, feeling your whole world tilt on its axis. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that Rebecca would be found or return of her own volition. If that happened would you just be pushed out of the family again? Would you still be able to see Amy?

Did that mean that the best case scenario for you was that this precious little girl’s mother was dead? How could you hope for something like that?

“I’m real sorry to break the news to you like this. Like I said, I’ve been trying to get ahold of Perry, but he and I can go over everything when he gets back,” the deputy sheriff said, patting you kindly on the arm.

You murmured your thanks before spinning around and making your way over to the Abbotts, head still swimming with questions.

By the time you made it there, they were chatting with a grinning Rhett, who was carrying Amy on his back. His smile faltered when he saw you and the dazed look on your face and you did your best to paste on a smile of your own. It must not have been totally convincing, though, because he let his niece slide down off his back as Royal and Cecelia exchanged looks.

“You look like you could use a drink,” Rhett said, his blunt words making you huff out a laugh. “I’m going to celebrate at the Handsome Gambler — come with me.”

The last thing you needed to do was be alone with Rhett Abbott, especially if alcohol was involved. But the world had just thrown a huge wrench in your plans, so you weren’t even thinking about it being a bad idea when you agreed.

“You ready to tell me what’s got you so spooked?” Rhett asked, leaning across the table so you could hear him over the music. You were both a few beers in — though Rhett had also enjoyed a handful of celebratory tequila shots that some of the locals had bought for him — and his cheeks were flushed pink from laughter and booze.

You contemplated telling him for a second, letting all of your frustrations and anxieties spill out (it turns out that Perry is still legally married so this whole engagement is more of a farce than it seems and if she comes back she’s probably not going to let me see Amy which is the main reason I said yes in the first place) before you remembered that he and Perry still had a complicated relationship.

As torn up as you were, you didn’t want to do anything to damage that bond even more.

“It’s nothing,” you said, shaking your head and taking a swig of your beer as if you swallow your words back down. “Anyway, we’re not done talking about that amazing ride of yours, cowboy.”

You attempt at distraction clearly didn’t work; Rhett just leaned further across the table, those damn blue eyes roaming all over your face.

“Somethin’s clearly up. Is it Perry’s fault?”

“Why do you assume it’s something Perry did?” you fire back, less out of a need to protect your fiancé’s feelings than to try and get Rhett off the track.

“Perry’s always doing something,” he replied, shaking his head. He stared hard at you for a moment longer, setting off a wave of butterflies in your gut, before grinning and sitting back down in the booth. “Okay, clearly we need another beer and then you’ll talk.”

“Rhett —“ you began, but you cut yourself off with a laugh as you watched him make a goofy, exaggerated motion to the bar’s sole waitress. “You think you can just get me drunk and I’ll spill all my secrets?”

“Oh, so you have secrets, do you?” He asked, raising one eyebrow in mocking curiosity. “Tell me a secret.”

“No,” you responded, but you were laughing still. “You don’t get to demand a secret.”

“What if I’m just so charming you can’t help but tell me?” You snorted and took a sip of your beer to cover up the fact that you did, in fact, find him charming. “Here, I’ll make you a deal: I’ll tell you a secret if you tell me one. Something you’ve never told anyone else,” he said, smiling slyly at you.

I like you so much. I can’t stop thinking about you. It makes me feel so guilty.

The words came to your brain before you could stop them. You definitely weren’t going to say them out loud — you weren’t sure you had even admitted them to yourself before this moment. But you knew, deep in your gut, that they were true.

That realization was almost more shocking than learning that your fiancé was still legally married.

“I gotta —“ you began, jumping up from the table and almost bumping into the waitress as she dropped off two new beers. “Bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

You rushed off before Rhett could stop you, weaving your way through the crowd at the bar and a few dancing couples before you found the blissfully empty bathroom. After locking the door behind you, you landed against the sink, taking a few deep, steadying breaths as the bass from the music echoed through the wall. You stared at yourself in the mirror, a long, hard look.

I like him.

I like Rhett.

I have feelings for him.

He’s my fiancé’s brother.

I’m crazy about him.

You shook your head, as if you cast those thoughts out of your brain. “Snap out of it,” you muttered to yourself. “You gotta snap out of it.”

Frantically, you turned on the water, yanking the faucet all the way to cold and ran your wrists under the stream of freezing water in an attempt to shock your system. You let out a long, slow exhale, allowing the cold to bring you back to yourself.

You’d just go back to the table, tell Rhett that you were tired and go home. Perry would be home in a couple of days and you could put the whole thing out of your mind and just focus on him and Amy. And then Rhett would be on the road soon.

Ignoring the small pang of of sadness that passed through you at the thought, you turned off the faucet and dried off your hands. Taking a moment to swipe away any mascara that had smudged under your eyes, you braced yourself and exited the bathroom determined to stay as far away from Rhett as possible.

So naturally, you barreled right into him as you turned the corner to make your way back to the table.

“Hey, hey, sorry about that,” he said, big, rough hands holding you steady. “I didn’t mean to walk right into ya, I was just coming to see if you were okay. You took off kinda quick.”

Did he know his thumbs were gently rubbing against the bare skin of your forearms? Because you did. It was all you could think about.

“I- I’m fine. Thank you,” you said, and even though you knew you should pull away from him, you made no move to do so. “Just needed some quiet for a second.”

“Alright, as long as you’re okay,” he said, giving your arms a brief squeeze before letting go. You immediately missed the warmth of his hands on your skin. “You thinkin’ ya wanna head out?”

You nodded absently and he smiled before turning around to lead you out the door. Just as you started to take a few steps, though, the song changed, an old Linda Ronstadt song that your mother used to sing along to as you both cleaned the house on a Sunday morning.

“Oh, I love this song,” you said, not realizing it was loud enough for Rhett to hear until he turned around with a smile.

“Yeah? I think my mama used to play this one in the truck sometimes,” he said, before taking a step back and holding a hand out toward you. “Dance with me? Just for this one song and then we can go. Seems a shame not to since you love it so much.”

You couldn’t resist. His eyes were shining too brightly, his smile revealing small little dimples that you had never noticed before, Linda’s voice calling for you to spin away on the dance floor. You took Rhett’s outstretched hand and his smile widened, brilliant and completely intoxicating.

The pair of you kept a respectful distance even as he spun you around, though he kept your hand in his the whole time. He laughed as you sang along to the song and then the next one and the next.

You lost track of how long the two of you had been dancing until he tugged you a little closer when a ballad came on, Hank Williams crooning low and slow as you breathlessly wrapped one arm around his shoulders.

Your actions seemed to embolden Rhett, who dropped a hand to your waist and pulled you in even more.

You could see every freckle on his face, every shade of blue in his eyes, how the pupils dilated as the two of you swayed together, lost in the moment. You licked you lips unconsciously and you watched his gaze dart down to your mouth before he purposefully looked back up, into your eyes.

“I like having you ‘round, you know?” he murmured and your heart began pounding erratically. “You make things brighter. And I like seein’ Amy so happy.”

“I like being around you, too. All of you,” you said, feeling a little dizzy as his words echoed around your brain. “Feels like I … fit. I’m not used to that feeling.”

Rhett smiled at that, so you continued. “And I don’t think I’ve laughed this much in a long time. With Amy, with you …”

“Happy to be of service,” he chucked. “You have a great smile. Real pretty."

Your face felt so warm, it had to be obvious to everyone in this bar just how much this cowboy was making you melt. “You’re not too bad yourself, Rhett Abbott.”

He dropped your hand for a second to tilt his cowboy hat up so you could see his face more clearly, before sliding it back around you, warm and possessive against your lower back.

“It’s a real shame Perry met you before I did,” he murmured. “Kinda wish it was the other way ‘round.”

Oh.

Oh, no. That was the wrong thing for him to say to you. This was only going to make your little crush on him worse. Because sometimes you felt the exact same way.

Because sometimes as you drifted off to sleep, you imagined what would have happened if you did meet Rhett first, if you were engaged to him instead of his brother.

Your shock — and maybe guilt — must have shown on your face because Rhett quickly let go of you and stepped back.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have said that,” he said quickly. “I’ve been drinking — let’s just blame it on the tequila, okay? I say dumb shit when I’m drunk.”

“It’s fine, it’s okay,” you reassured him. “We’ve both been drinking. It’s fine.”

“Lemme — we can just head home, okay? We’ll just get out of here and forget about it,” he continued, already making his way back to the entrance.

But you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to forget it, even if you wanted to. The low, soft way he spoke, the way his eyes were locked on your face, the shape his lips made as he said it. I wish it was the other way ‘round.

It was everything you wanted to hear. It was the absolute worst thing he could have said.

You kept your distance from the Abbott ranch in the days after the rodeo, buried in work, in cleaning your little apartment, in helping your mother around her house, at the bakery, anything to keep yourself from thinking about Rhett’s words.

By the time Perry was home from his trip, the guilt was eating you up inside.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to be excited as you drove over to meet him and Amy for dinner, stomach churning with doubt and confusion and guilt. How could you sit down with this man — this man that you were engaged to for chrissakes — when you couldn’t stop thinking about his brother? How could you pretend that you were a happy family when you wanted to play house with Rhett instead?

Your thoughts were swirling like the dust under your tires as you pulled up to the Abbott ranch to see Perry sitting on the porch. He smiled an waved as you parked the car and pulled you into a hug as you stepped up to meet him.

“How was your trip?” You asked, swallowing around the lump in your throat.

“It was … good. Yeah, it was good. I needed it,” he said.

“Your … business trip?”

He shrugged a little sheepishly, before gesturing to the rocking chairs on the porch. “Yeah. Yeah, lemme — let’s talk for a second.”

He knows. Rhett told him.

Fighting the urge to puke over the porch railing, you gingerly sat down next to Perry, who pulled your hand in his and absentmindedly rubbed his thumb along the back of it as it spoke. You didn’t want to admit it, but it felt wrong when he did it, as opposed to the thrill that ran through you when Rhett touched you.

“Is everything okay, Perry?” you asked softly.

“Yeah, yeah. Look, I should — I wasn’t totally honest with you before I left. I didn’t go on a business trip. I went to … well, I went to try and find Rebecca one last time.” He grimaced slightly as you gasped softly. This was not what you expected when he asked you to talk. “I couldn’t stop thinking of this one place we used to go before Amy was born, this little hiking trail out east. We’d stay in these cabins for the weekend, just the two of us.”

“Oh…kay?” you said, confusion evident in your voice and on your face. Perry took a deep breath, and when he let it out he looked … tired. A little defeated, a little sad.

“She wasn’t there, obviously. But when I was there I realized … I realized I’m never going to stop waiting for her to come home,” he said, the last bit coming out in a rush. “I’m not over her. I thought I was ready to move on, move forward, for Amy’s sake but I just … I’m not there.”

Though he hadn’t made eye contact with you the whole time he was speaking, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze and turned to look you in the eye. You could see the discomfort, the heartbreak swirling in his eyes. “It’s not fair to you. To be married to someone who’s always going to be waiting for someone else. And then when Deputy Sheriff Hawk called me —“

“To tell you about the license?” You asked and he nodded, looking uncomfortable.

“I promise, I didn’t know about it before then. It didn’t even occur to me that Rebecca would have to be … well, you know, before our marriage would be dissolved. I wouldn’t have proposed if I knew. Hell, I wouldn’t have even asked you out that first time.”

Perry sighed again, before continuing, “It just made me realize that I’m still married to her in my heart as well. And I just can’t do that to you. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You nodded absently, letting his words wash over you. “What about Amy, though? She and I have gotten so close —“

“You can still see Amy! Of course you can, she adores you. And I know how much you care about her,” he reassured you.

You felt a rush of relief. Amy was the reason you said yes to his proposal in the first place; it was almost as if the knowledge that you could still spend time with this brilliant, special little girl that you had come to consider family had outweighed any potential heartbreak from Perry ending the engagement.

But then again, maybe ending the engagement was exactly what you had been hoping for since the moment you laid eyes on Rhett.

You have to tell him. It’s only fair.

“I understand, Perry,” you said and you could see the relief visibly wash over him. “I do, I completely understand. Thank you for being honest with me.”

Before he could speak, you continued, wanting to rush the words out as quickly as possible, “I guess … I guess if I’m going to be honest with you too, I’ve been having second thoughts myself. I … I started to have feelings. For someone else. And I felt terrible about it, the guilt has been eating me up.”

Perry swallowed hard. “Did you — while I was away did anything —“

“No!” you rushed to explain. “No, nothing happened. I didn’t do anything with anyone else I just … just having feelings for someone else made me feel guilty enough. I couldn’t do that to you. But I think it’s clear we’re just … not ‘the one’ for each other.”

He surprised you by standing up abruptly and pulling you to your feet as well, before giving you a tight hug. It felt good, like a fitting end to your amicable relationship to part ways amicably.

Of course things got a little less amicable later that evening when, after you handed back the ring and enjoyed a pleasant dinner, you both sat down with Amy to break the news. She seemed a little confused at first, but brightened when she learned that you would still be around for her.

“Okay,” she said after a minute, when you had explained the situation as best as you could to the 9-year-old. “That’s okay. You can date Uncle Rhett instead! I think he likes you.”

Perry’s face turned a bright shade of red. “What?!”

Despite Amy’s permission, you didn’t start dating Rhett after that.

In fact, you were continuing to avoid him, maybe out of lingering guilt or maybe out of a fear that he didn’t actually mean those words he said that night at the Handsome Gambler.

It had been nearly two weeks since you had laid eyes on that handsome cowboy when you suddenly had a knock on your door on a late, sunny Sunday morning. You turned down the music you had been playing while you cleaned — Linda Ronstadt, of course — and opened the door, only to come face to face with the man you had been trying you best not to think about.

“Hi,” Rhett said, a little shy as he ran his fingers nervously through his hair. You could see his ball cap tucked into one of his back pockets and a small bouquet of wildflowers in his other hands and butterflies erupted in your stomach at the sweet, gentlemanly gestures.

“Hi,” you responded, a smile growing across your face before you could contain it. “It’s good to see you, Rhett. Do you … do you wanna come in?” He grinned at your words; clearly he was a little nervous that you wouldn’t be as excited to see him on your doorstep as you hoped.

He pressed the flowers into your hands as he made his way into your apartment, his big hands wrapping around yours and his shoulders taking up almost the entire doorway. After you closed the door and turned to face him, you both stood there, smiling a little giddily at one another, though neither of you moved. The tension was broken when you both tried to speak at the same time, tripping over your words as you both tried to break the awkward silence.

Laughing, you gently placed the flowers down on your coffee table and took a step closer to Rhett. His big blue eyes were fixed on your face, bright and shining and hopeful. You gestured towards your couch, silently inviting him to make himself at home, but he just ran his hands through his hair again and continued standing.

“I know it hasn’t been very long since you and Perry … ended things,” he began and your stomach swooped like you were on a roller coaster. “But well, I talked to him a bit, and he’s not the biggest fan of the idea, but I think he’ll come around and … listen. What I’m trying to say. Can I take you to dinner?”

“What?” You asked, a little incredulous that Rhett Abbott, the guys of your dreams, was standing in your living room and asking you on a date.

“Let me take you to dinner. I can’t — I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m crazy about ya,” he said, grinning as he watched a small smile break out across your face. “We can take it slow if you want but I just — I meant what I said. I wish I had met you before Perry. That I had a chance to ask you out first. But asking you out now is the next best thing.”

“I’d love to go to dinner with you, Rhett,” you said softly, smile growing bigger and brighter as you watched his eyes light up with excitement.

“Yeah?” he asked, hopeful and puppy-like.

“Yeah,” you breathed, taking a step closer to him and breathing in the scent of his body wash, taking in the freckles across his nose and the dimples hiding next to his smile. “I’m crazy about you too. You remember when you asked me to tell you a secret?”

He nodded, one gorgeous, beefy forearm wrapping around your waist and tugging you even closer.

“That was my secret. That I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” you ran your hands up Rhett’s broad chest, feeling the muscles that lay under his soft tee shirt. “I still can’t stop thinking about you. I … I’ve never felt like this before, about anyone. Just you.”

Rhett didn’t respond. Instead, he held you close, slid his free hand up to cup your face and kissed you. And you there your arms around his neck and kissed him back.

It was like every moment, every bump in the road, every teasing glance, every little joke, every whispered confession was leading to this kiss. Rhett held you like you were precious and kissed you like it was the last time he’d ever get to do so.

But it wasn’t the last time. It was far, far from the last time if you had anything to say about it.

You felt his tongue brush against your lips and you opened your mouth to let him in, head swimming as he gripped you tighter, breathed a little heavier, kissed you a little dirtier. A little more passionate, a little more intense — a little more like you had dreamed about all those late nights when you were still pretending that your feelings for him didn’t exist.

After he pulled away, chuckling softly as your lips chased his for a moment, Rhett rubbed his thumb against your cheek, sparking a wave of goosebumps down your arms. He grinned, panting a little, those blue eyes bright and staring right back at you in adoration.

“Wait a second,” you said, a little breathlessly as one more thought occurred to you. “Aren’t you leaving soon? You have a spot on a tour.”

Rhett shrugged like it was no big deal, but a feeling almost like panic was starting to grip you. “I have a couple of weeks. We can see where this goes and maybe if you want … you could come with me?” he asked tentatively.

You didn’t respond; you just pulled him back in for another heart stopping, mind melting kiss.

Much later — after the hours of kissing in your living room, after a first date where you spent so long talking and laughing at the diner that you were practically chased out by the staff, after a night of stargazing in the back of his truck, after those blissful first weeks of a relationship, a month of painful long distance and three more of you joining him on the road, after you both settled back in Wabang with another tour on the horizon, after Perry finally came around to the idea of you two being together — you sat in your mother’s kitchen with Rhett by your side and his grandmother’s engagement ring on your finger.

She had just broken out the old bottle of whiskey she kept on top of the fridge for special occasions, when she asked you the same question she had asked a little over a year prior, when you were talking about your engagement to Perry.

“Baby, do you love him?”

You looked at Rhett, took in his beautiful face, his beaming smile, his hair, a little mussed up because he couldn’t stop running his hands through it on your way over here, and the way those blue eyes always made you feel like the most beautiful woman on earth.

“Yes, mama. I love him awful.”

#outer range fic #outer range #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott x reader #perry abbott #amy abbott #Perry abbott x reader #moonstruck au #based on moonstruck #my fics #my writing #i love one (1) cowboy #sorry this took so long #sorry this is so long #outer ranger fanfic #sorchasromcombirthdaycelly

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cellythefloshie · 27 days

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;; Paths We Didn't Take Dedicated to @wyattjohnston for her birthday bingo

Summary: City girl, Margeaux, had sworn off love after breaking up with her boyfriend of two years. She’s thought he was the one, but instead of a wedding ring, Margeaux was left trying to fill the void he left being. With the help of her friends, she escaped the life she knew in the city. Deep in cabin country, Margeaux struggles to find herself - but it's easier said than done when her high school sweetheart makes an unexpected appearance. Birthday Bingo Tropes: Lake Fic, One-Night Stand, Sworn Off Love, High School Sweethearts, Fish Out of Water, Exes to Lovers, Opposites Attract. Kinks & Tropes: protected sex, it's pretty vanilla (and nowhere near what I usually write for smut, so be gentle with me, I've been out of the game for a while). ABOUT THE OC: Margeaux, face claim: Nicola Peltz. Word Count: 9.6k+ A/N: Demi, I AM SO SO SORRY for how long it took me to write this fic or you for your special day. AND thank you for being so understanding as I reached out to you during my writing process. This fic is a little different from anything I've written before. It's got a lot more pop-culture references than I usually include, and if I really let myself fall into the plot fully, this easily could have been a slow burn novel fulled with so much lake side shenanigans. Just watch, this will be a rabbit hole I fall into often, just like Adam and Charlie..... Anyway, I hope it was worth the wait. Happy Belated Birthday. 🎂

Part One.

Tears glimmered like diamonds as they traveled over the swell of Margeaux’s cheeks and down into the corners of her lips. Slowly, her tongue licked them away, tasting her own sorrows. And she watched it all in the reflection produced on her phone screen, a live video shared with her thousands of followers live on TikTok. They heard every echo of her footsteps of her empty apartment that had once been filled with laughter, love and her ex-boyfriend’s cologne. Now, it smelt of nothing but the fresh morning breeze that gusts over the rolling waves that crashed up onto Vancouver’s shores.

Margeaux could smell it as she took an unsteady breath, a desperate attempt at composure, but her eyes were already red and swollen from crying. Her viewers had seen it all, the comments flooded with love. They had lived in that apartment with her through her videos. They had all shared a little piece of her two-year relationship that was now over. Some viewers shared her broken heart, others were angry - as she should have been. He had cheated on her, after all, and they were the first ones to know it. Sending her all the screenshots of evidence. They were all strangers, yet her closest friends. It just made sense to be ending this chapter of her life with them.

“We’ve been through so much here, haven’t we?” she spoke, her voice breaking as she addressed her growing audience. The comment section flooded so quickly that she couldn’t even read it, “So many adventures, love, headache. We have grown up together here, between these walls.”

Margeaux panned the camera over the sterile white walls that would be the blank canvas of life to the next residents set to move in at the beginning of August. Then Margeaux turned the camera back to herself, her expression soft with sadness but bright with the hope she held for her future. “But I’m done,” she declared, her voice growing stronger. “I’m done with the heartache, the lies, and the broken promises. We’re better than that. We deserve better. I’m swearing off men, and that’s a promise!”

Behind her, Margeaux's words had earned a slow, almost hollow sounding applause that echoed off the large apartment’s empty walls. It drew her gaze bag and tugged her lips into a soft smile. It was Carrie, her best friend, who had returned from carrying the last box down to the can. Margeaux had hoped that she would have been able to sneak in a quick stream while she was gone, but she had been caught up in the moment of it all, leaving Carrie’s eyes rolling upon discovering her.

“Margeaux, seriously?” Carried scoffed, a single hand raising up to tangle in her curls, “Nobody wants to see you cry on TikTok.”

Margeaux sniffled, wiping away a single tear with the back of her hand, all the while smiling. “You’re right,” she sighed, her shoulders slouching as she looked back to the camera, “I think it’s time I disconnect for a while, guys. We started this journey together in this apartment and achieved so much. But outside of this bubble I’ve made for myself, do we really know who Margeaux Fortin is? Do we know what’s next?”

She walked to the window slowly, a gust of wind catching her golden hair and tossing it away from her face, that was now free of tears. Her viewing could see her face in full. How her eyes seemed to squint in the breeze, and how her lips parted in a trembling breath. “We don’t. It’s something we will have to discover, but I have to do it alone, friends. I will be back, and I can’t wait to share my new version of me with you all.”

Slowly, her arm lowered, her stream capturing nothing more than the white walls before the stream ended. Margeaux stood by the window in silence, waiting for Carrie to quip in with something charming, but it never came. Turning in place, Margeaux crossed her arms over her chest and held herself firmly as she was met with Carrie’s narrow stare.

“People really buy all that bullshit?” Her words were laced with a laugh that would have been a firm ‘ha’ if it came to fruition.

“It’s not bullshit,” Margeaux gripped at the fabric of her own cardigan tightly.

Carrie had never understood why she devoted so much time to social media and her followers. Margeaux spent the last 2 years of her life living through the screen or her phone or a camera if she were filming something to be posted later, and she was successful with it. Not only had she garnered a mass of followers, she had made many friendships and sponsorships and had experienced things she would have never imagined she could. Yet, Carried was humble, disconnected from all social media, and liked to live in the moment. If they hadn’t been friends since preschool, they probably wouldn’t have been friends at all.

She had almost lost her a few times too, and Margeaux was glad she hadn’t. Outside her online presence, Carrie was all she had left.

“Hey,” Carrie left where she stood by the doorway and walked across the room to take Margeaux into her arms. “I know it’s not bullshit… It’s just weird,” she sighed, and when she drew back, Margeaux made sure to give her a smile.

“It’s all I know,” Margeaux sighed, “but as long as I’m online, as long as my breakup is trendy, I’m just going to be reminded of what he put me through - but I don’t know what else to do, Carrie.”

Carrie’s expression softened, and Margeaux’s heart sank. She was pitying her.

“I know it’s hard, but you’ll get through this because I know just the thing to help.”

Margeaux raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued, “Oh?”

Carrie smiled, a glint in her eyes that Margeaux couldn’t quite identify. “My friend Mat is coming home for the summer. He’s got a cabin up in the mountains, and he’s invited me to stay there. I’m allowed to bring friends, and Charlotte and Samantha are already on board. You should come with us.”

Margeaux bit down on her lip as she hesitated to answer. This was the first time she had heard of this trip, but she wasn’t surprised. Carrie never invited her out to do anything that involved the outdoors, and that was for good reason. Margeaux hated the heat and the cold, the sun and the rain, the dirt and she hated the bugs more. The scenery itself was beautiful, especially in British Columbia. It was, to put it simply, picturesque, everything she needed for her online presence, but if she went with Carrie, Margeaux wouldn’t be going to make content. She would be trying to find herself.

“I don’t know,” Margeaux sighed, her tone returning to that soft, disheartened tone she had started her stream with. “You know I’m not exactly the outdoorsy type.”

Carrie raised a single well manicured hand, waving off Margeaux's concerns with ease. “You don’t have to be. It’ll be good for you to get away from all of this for a while. Just think of it as a much-needed forest retreat.”

Margeaux bit her lip as her mind flashed to the image of a rustic cabin in the middle of nowhere. Where mosquitos would feast on her blood, the howl of wolves would keep her up at night and where dirt would stain her spotless white shoes. She cringed as her mind spiraled with just how bad it could be.

What if there was no internet or worse, no air conditioning?

In her mind, it sounded more like torture than somewhere she could go to relax, rejuvenate and find herself after spending years of giving little pieces of herself to her ex just for him to throw it all away.

Margeaux's shoulders shook with a deep breath that escaped her lips in a sigh. Then she looked around the empty apartment one last time, letting the reality of her situation really sink in. Her boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend, had cheated on her. She was moving out of the apartment that was meant to be her home. She was nothing more than an internet personality who was a shell of who she once was. Margeaux needed to move on, to find herself, but she wasn’t going to find it in Vancouver.

She bit her tongue to keep herself from cursing. Carrie was right.

“Okay,” she said finally, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, “I’ll go.”

Carrie's features grew bright, her jaw slacking as she smiled. She must not have thought Margeaux was going to accept, but she had surprised them both. Margeaux just hoped she wouldn’t regret it.

“You’re going to love it,” Carrie assured, throwing a single arm around her shoulders to lead her out of the apartment, and the life she was leaving behind. “This summer is going to be exactly what we need. We finally get to have a hot girl summer together.”

Now it was Margeaux’s eyes that were rolling. They hadn’t been single at the same time since sixth grade, but the last thing Margeaux wanted was to go sleeping around. Especially when the wounds of her breakup were still fresh.

“We’ll see about that,” Margeaux sighed and the weight on her heart began to lift ever so slightly. The apartment with all its memories - good and bad - would be behind her soon, and maybe, just maybe, with a little help, she could find herself again.

—

The winding mountain road twisted and turned, the dense forest on either side a blur of green as the car sped along with urgency. They had left Carrie’s place behind schedule, and Margeaux was going to be the first to admit that it was her fault. She didn’t know what to pack, so she over packed, and they had spent 30 minutes trying to make sure all her bags would fit. While Carrie’s grip on the steering wheel was tense, Margeaux’s cluelessness hadn’t fully killed the mood. The atmosphere, especially in the back seat, was lively.

The car vibrated with the base of the hottest song of summer - according to Samantha, who lay sprawled out over the center console as she did her best to outshine Sabrina Carpenter as she sang along with Espresso - albeit off-key. Charlotte sat beside her in the backseat, her phone in hand as she curated just what songs would come next. Margeaux sat in the passenger’s seat, watching as Samantha tapped at the screen on her phone. Jealous. Carrie had taken her phone from her before they got in the car. Margeaux was officially cut off. No more TikTok. No X. Not even Facebook, which was primarily kept to message no one beyond her grandmother. And watching Samantha in the back seat made Margeaux’s skin crawl. It was an itch she wouldn't be able to scratch for the entire weekend, and one that she was struggling to ignore.

There was snow saving her, or at least that's how she felt as the tapping of Carrie’s fingers against the steering wheel mimicked the racing of her anxious heart. She couldn't even bring herself to sing along with one of her favorite Taylor Swift songs as it blasted through the car. Charlotte cheered as if she were in the front row at the Eras Tour, and Carrie sang like she was performing in front of a crowd of thousands. She sang with so much passion, so much heart. But Margeaux only sunk further into her seat.

There was an ache in the depths of her chest, one that had begun to gnaw at her ever since the breakup. Sometimes, it felt like it was finally beginning to fade - but being surrounded by her friends, the laughter and the music only numbed the pain. Deep below the surface, she was still hurting and Margeaux was beginning to question if anything could heal her.

Her phone.

She needed her phone.

Lulling her head to the side, Margeaux looked down at the backpack that rested at her own feet. Carrie’s backpack. The one she had confined her phone to at the beginning of the trip as Margeaux was sentenced to be completely isolated from the very lifeline that was her phone.

Maybe, with Carrie distracted, Margeaux could reach her phone.

Margeaux slouched in her seat, her bright eyes watching Carrie as she rocked the chorus.

Her perfectly manicured fingers pinched at the zipper, pulling it open, the very sound of it drowned out by her friend’s vocals. And for a moment, as the bag fell open, Margeaux felt hope, relief- and it was all gone just as quickly as it came as she felt Carrie’s careful grasp coil around her hand.

Looking up through thick lashes, Margeaux sighed. Carrie’s eyes hadn’t even left the road. “Margeaux, you need this. You need to let you. Just for a little while.”

Full lips parted, ready to argue - to insist that she was fine - but it all would have been a lie. A desperate attempt to get her life back, but Margeaux had been friends with Carrie long enough to know that it would have been a losing battle. They looked out for one another, they always did, and Carrie was just doing what was best for her, Margeaux knew that.

“Fine,” she pouted, her arms crossing over her chest childishly.

Carrie laughed, the tension in the car evaporating slowly as Margeaux became distracted by the scenery as it passed the window in a blur. The singing and laughter were the mere background track of her mind that was still fixated on the anxiety and the dread she was trying to escape. It haunted her for the rest of the drive, her head resting against the car window as she told herself that the complications of her life were behind her now, and that they would be at the cabin soon.

Soon, she would finally find peace.

The trees began to thin, and the road opened up to a large clearing at the end of a winding driveway. There was a sight that left Margeaux’s breath catching in her throat. The cabin wasn’t the rustic, rundown shack she had imagined. It was a beautiful, multistory cabin with floor to ceiling glass windows that reflected the surrounding forest and mountains on the skyline. It had a large porch too, one that wrapped around the front and had a towering staircase that led from the driveway up to the front door.

“Wow,” Margeaux breathed out as she stepped out of the car, taking it all in. “You didn’t tell me we were visiting Edward Cullen.”

Carrie’s lips split into a wide grin, it was clear to Margeaux that her friend was pleased by the shock that was painted all over her face. “Not bad, right?”

“Not bad at all,” Margeaux agreed, moving to the trunk to grab her bags, “you know, I would have been much more agreeable if I knew this was the kind of cabin we were coming to-”

“What’s the fun in that?” Carrie teased her, helping her unload one of her many bags - a bag that ended up on the ground as they were both startled by a shout from at the top of the steps;

“Carrie!”

Margeaux looked up, her trendy curtain bangs falling into her eyes, as she stood in the driveway left frozen at the sight of the man jogging down the steps towards them. He was tall, with an athletic build on full display, as he was wearing nothing more than a pair of swim trunks. His dark hair was shaggy, hanging down into his eyes, and as he got closer, she could see the easy smile on his face. He was handsome - very handsome - and Margeaux quickly concluded that this must be Carrie’s friend, Mat.

She watched, still lingering at the trunk of the car, as Carrie reached Mat at the bottom of the stairs. They met in an embrace, Mat’s hands lingering low on Carrie’s back. Margeaux’s brow raised and her head tilt so silently screamed, friend’s my ass. They were fucking. Margeaux didn’t need to be told to know that, and it left a sour taste in her mouth knowing that she had been invited alone to some fuck fest in the woods.

Her mood changed in an instant as she unpacked the rest of her bags that began to pile up as if she had just gotten off an international light. Margeaux grumbled to herself, her brows heavy and lips pressed into a firm line. And her expression only hardened further as she heard the symphony of footsteps that belonged to Mat’s friends. They too were making their way down to greet them, and while she was curious, Margeaux was mad. Carrie had invited her with the full intention of keeping Mat’s friends busy for the weekend.

Hot Girl Summer.

Gripping the handle of one of her bags tight, Margeaux took a deep breath and tried to get her features to relax before she looked up at the trio of men that had made their way down from the cabin, their welcome party. They were making their introductions to Charlotte and Samantha who had already pulled out all the stops when it came to their flirtations and charms - which wasn’t all that difficult when they had driven down not wearing more than a pair of denim shorts pulled over their swimsuits.

A part of Margeaux hoped that the sights of them alone would be enough to distract the men from her - that Carrie, Charlotte and Samantha would have all of their undivided attention while she struggled to carry her bags up the staircase and then went off to hide somewhere on a lounge chair or a beach to enjoy the sun. And while Margeaux was sure she wouldn’t be lucky enough to disappear, she still tried. She organized her bags with such an ease that only came with the experience of travel, closed up the trunk and slowly rounded the car like a deer trying to creep past a predator. She even kept her head down in an attempt to go unnoticed.

And she might have been successful if it hadn’t been her own heart that failed her.

There was a familiar laugh that took the air. It was a low laugh, one that could only belong to a man. But not any man. This was a laugh she had heard countless times before. One that she had coaxed from thin lips, one that made her heart thunder when she was merely sixteen - and even after seven years, it still did. Her heart pounded so hard she could feel it in her ears. It felt like she had just finished a sprint, though she was standing still. And her luggage slipped from suddenly sweaty palms, sending it to the ground in a clamor that brought all the attention to her.

At that moment, it was all confirmed in front of her.

Margeaux’s breath caught in her throat as her gaze fixated on the all too familiar face that hadn’t seen her yet. He was laughing at something someone said, and looked just as she remembered him - his smile large, his eyes bright and his hair threatening to curl as it was slicked back with sweat or water - except he was older now, more mature, and even more attractive.

The need to take even a single breath strangled her lungs, but the shock of the unexpected reunion was heavy on her chest. She hadn’t prepared for this.

Her high school sweetheart.

Anthony Beauvillier.

Part Two.

For the rest of the first day at the cabin, Margeaux had kept herself hidden away in the bedroom that was hers for the weekend. There she followed through with her multi-step self care routine that she always did before bed. Carrie had only tried to bug her once, but Margeaux was quick to dismiss her with nothing more than a scowl. She wasn't joining them by the fire tonight. She wasn't going to drink craft beer and pretend everything was okay. Not when it was all so clearly a setup. But Margeaux could only hide away from Anthony and her friends for so long.

Come morning, Margeaux was sitting out on the front steps of the cabin with a shoebox in her lap. Inside were a pair of brand-new hiking boots, a purchase she had made more out of necessity than desire. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she carefully removed each of her dainty designer sandals. The thin straps and detailing were a stark contrast to the rugged shoes she was about to put on. Then, she slipped on a clean white pair of socks, opened the shoe box and fought the boots onto her feet. They were tight, uncomfortable even as she would be breaking them in on the post-breakfast hike.

It was as she was tieing up the laces of each boot that a familiar voice broke through the sound of the morning breeze and chirping of early rising birds. “Those brand new?”

Squinting her eyes, Margeaux looked up, rose-tinted sunglasses shielding her eyes from the sun that illuminated Anthony from behind like a radiant halo. He stood a few steps away, already dressed for the hike, with a teasing grin on his face. Margeaux knew their paths would cross again. Yet his presence left her heart jolting at the sight of him.

“Maybe,” she finally replied, her smile turning inwards as she adjusted the laces just right.

Anthony chuckled, his gaze dropping to her shoes before meeting her eyes again. “You never really were the outdoorsy type.”

Margeaux stiffened, her shoulders rolling back as they tensed, unsure of how to respond. The comment was innocent enough, and very much the truth, but she didn't like it. It made her feel that she didn't belong there. That Anthony didn't want her to be there.

“Well, here I am.”

Anthony smirked as he took a casual stride towards the railing of the deck. He leaned there casually, but his gaze continued to linger on her. “So, what has you all the way out here?”

The question hung heavily in the air, and Margeaux could sense the deeper meaning behind his words. He wasn't just asking about the cabin or Vancouver. He was asking about her life, about how she ended up there. And while the simple answer was Carrie, she was sure Anthony was asking about one thing, but would never actually say the words.

I’m not fucking Mat if that's what you're asking, was what she wanted to say. But Margeaux answered him with less vulgarity, “I dumped my boyfriend, and Carrie thought I could use a change of scenery.”

For a moment, as Margeaux so blatantly stared at him, she thought she saw a flicker of something in his expression. Relief, maybe, or something close to it. But it was gone in the blink of her eyes, replaced by that same teasing smile he had greeted her with. “You’re joining us for the hike?”

“I didn't put on these ugly things for fun,” Margeaux said, wiggling her feet.

“They aren't supposed to be good looking, Margeaux. They're supposed to be supportive, comfortable,” he told her with a grin that faded as he looked from one side of her to the next. His expression softened slowly, his eyes squinting as if he were trying to find something that wasn't there.

“What?” she snapped more harshly than she had intended.

“Where's your bag?”

Margeaux blinked, her eyes wide and clueless. “Hiking bag?”

Anthony turned in place, his back resting against the railing as his smile fell into a sigh. His band then raised up, carding through his messing morning hair. “You're not carrying anything with you? No water, no snacks, nothing?”

Margeaux perked up in place. She shouldn't have, but she did. She was bringing something. Her hand dropped to her side where her GoPro sat, waiting to be mounted on her chest with a contraption she had bought on Amazon last minute. She held it up for him to see, feeling a little foolish, but happy. It was her only connection to her online persona, and it made her feel a little less anxious as she was about to dive into the world of being outdoorsy - a world she never really wanted to be a part of.

He was left unimpressed as he pushed off the rail and moved for his bag that rested nearby. There was a thunder of footsteps behind her. It was time to go.

“Just. Stick close to me,” Anthony said, his tone serious as he fell into stride with the rest of the group.

“What? Why?” she asked, standing up as she fastened the camera over her chest.

“You're going to need all the help you can get,” he replied, a hint of concern in his voice.

And while she knew that he was right. His words still stung.

“No air won't,” Margeaux bit back at him, her confidence forced, but so convincing she almost believed herself.

He didn't have to look back at her for Margeaux to know that he was smiling. She could hear it in Anthony's words as he spoke, “Alright, Princess. We'll see about that.”

Hearing her old nickname left Margeaux frozen in place. Each of her friends passed her, but she fixated on Anthony and only Anthony. He had been the only one she let call her that. Not her parents, nor her most recent ex were allowed to - and when he tried, she had shut it down quickly, yet casually, and suggested an alternative. Because it had been something special when Anthony said it. It left her heart fluttering, and her cheeks pink with blush. Even as he said it then, and she was hearing it for the first time in years, she remembered each time he said it before. Quickly, she became the giddy teenager that was undeniably and irrevocably in love with Anthony Beauvillier.

The feeling was fleeting, gone as quickly as it came, knocked out of her with her breath as a pair of arms flung around her in a tight embrace.

“What are you waiting for? Let's go!”

It was Carrie. All too chipper, and all too happy for Margeaux to stomach when she could already feel the itch of a mosquito bite on her arm. Besides that fact, Margeaux was still angry that Carrie had put her into this position.

Taking a deep breath, Margeaux shrugged her friend's arms from her body. The quick turn of her head offered her an eye roll and a glare that only brought Carrie to laughter. She knew this would upset her, but knew that keeping it from Margeaux and asking for forgiveness later was easier than trying to convince her to go.

Carrie nudged her as they reached the beginning of the trail, and when she spoke, she kept her voice low so as not to be heard by the rest of the group that led the way. “So,” she licked her lips, “how long are you going to be mad at me for?”

Margeaux glanced ahead, making sure Anthony was out of earshot. He walked at the front of the pack, making the hike through the Instagram worthy view look so effortless as she tripped over rocks. She watched as he tried to dodge a branch of a pine tree; the bristles brushing against the fabric of his shirt. As she walked in his wake, she could smell the scent of it in the air. Pine mixed with dirt, mixed with the sunscreen on her face that had already begun to run into her eyes as sweat dripped off her brow.

Her eyes squinted, her nose wrinkling too at the discomfort as she spoke, “I think 4 years would suffice. You know, the amount of time Anthony and I dated in high school.”

He had been playing for the Shawinigan Cataractes when Margeaux had met him. So sweet, and so shy, she had to make the first move. They had been inseparable since that moment. That was until he was called up to the NHL by the Islanders. He moved to New York; she moved to Vancouver. Slowly, even after their efforts, they lost touch. Margeaux told herself it was just how things were meant to be. The two of them, just highschool sweethearts, never meant to be more than her first love. But now she wasn't so-

“He's single, you know?” Carrie broke through her thoughts.

“How do you-” Margeaux spoke quickly, her tongue tripping over her words as she couldn't follow a single train of thought, “what is he even doing here? Did you invite him?”

“No,” Carrie held up both hands as if to plead her innocence, “he's Mat's old teammate. They're still close friends. I didn't find out he was coming until a few days before.”

“But you didn't tell me,” Margeaux bit out.

“I didn't,” Carrie hummed, “but” she added in a sing-song tone, “I bet it's nice seeing again.”

“It is,” she admitted, “in a way, I guess. But it doesn't mean I forgive you. Not when I know you only invited us out here to keep his friends busy during your weekend booty call.”

Carrie didn't even blush. She had no shame as she leaned in and kissed Margeaux on the cheek before she ran off to the middle of the pack where Mat was walking.

It left Margeaux alone at the back of the pack, falling further and further behind as they followed the trail. It grew steeper with every stride, and Margeaux's legs began to ache. While she loved her pilates, her body was in no way trained for the long hike. Her breath became short, her gasps quiet as she did her best not to draw attention to herself. Each step was a struggle as she began to question just how far she could go. Yet, she didn't ask for help.

She didn't have to.

With her eyes fixated on the ground, Margeaux jumped in surprise at the sound of the sudden but softly spoken. “Here” that met her ears. Looking up, she found Anthony walking beside her. He had noticed her struggling and had fallen to the back of the pack, with the mouthpiece of his water bladder in hand. He offered it to him with a soft, concerned smile. “You look like you could use this.”

Her pride was bruised, yet Margeaux took the mouthpiece and accepted her defeat. They paused in the middle of the trail and she took a long drink that soothed her dry throat. When she pulled back, Margeaux was sure she could see the gratitude written all over her face. “Merci,” she muttered, handing it back.

Anthony smiled.

“We're almost to the top,” he encouraged. “The hike back will be easier.”

Margeaux nodded, raising a hand to wipe the sweat off her brow. She was too tired to speak, but his reassurance gave her the strength to keep going. They walked together in silence, the sound of their footsteps lost in the faint laughter of their friends in the distance.

They followed the sound; the laughter growing louder and louder until they reached the peak of the trail together. The trees parted into a clearing that looked down over the sprawling forest around them and left endless blue skies free from their shade. Margeaux could feel the hot sun on her skin, but the summer breeze cooled her. And she smiled.

“See,” Anthony nudged her casually, “worth the effort, right?”

She looked back over her shoulder at him, still smiling. “Yeah.”

He stood at her side, their backs to the rest of the group as they admired the view from the peak of the trail. The group all linger there for a while, sharing conversation and refueling for the descent. But Margeaux only spent her time with Anthony, sharing his water and casual conversation. Even as they walked back to the cabin, they walked side by side, his arms finding her when she stumbled. Margeaux was relieved by the time they reached the cabin steps. But she was also feeling something new. Something that felt a little like excitement, a little like hope, and she knew it was all because of Anthony.

Part Three.

The hot day faded into a cool, starry night. Margeaux had insisted that she was going to go straight to bed, but with a little convincing, she was pulling on her sweatshirt and joining the group out back by the lake where there was a fire pit. The flames danced, and the wood crackled, releasing sparks into the darkness above.

The fiery embers danced in the breeze and Margeaux watched them until they were lost among the stars. The air was engulfed by the scent of wood-smoke, tainting the fresh air that almost left Margeaux dreading that they would be going back to the city come morning. She was just starting to like this place, though she was sure that wouldn't have been the case if Anthony wasn't there.

He had been as sweet as the gooey marshmallow and melted chocolate sandwiched between graham crackers that oozed between her fingers. An insatiable delight that only left her wanting more than they sat side by side around the fire. Anthony had her laughing. He had her forgetting the reasons she had agreed to go out to the cabin. It was like a weight was lifted from her shoulders. The heartache, the uncertainty, and the anxiety were all gone, but it left all the room for dread.

It hit her like a truck the moment she felt something crawling on her leg. It left her heart heavy as she tried to ignore it. Margeaux told herself that it had to be another harmless insect. She even reached a hand down, swatting the air, but the sensation persisted. It sent shivers down her spine, and when she looked down, she saw it - a small, dark tick making its way up her leg.

Shooting up from her seat, Margeaux shouted the first thing that came to mind as she tried to shake the bug off her leg, “Anthony!”

Anthony, who had been sitting right beside her, dropped down so that he knelt in the dirt. The flickering flame illuminated his features, and even in the intensity of its light, he was calm. He reached out with both hands, her body becoming still in an instant as he searched for the tick. “It hasn’t latched on yet. Hold still.”

Margeaux held her breath, her lungs burning deep in her chest, as she stood there frozen as Anthony reached for the tick. His fingers were gentle but sure as he plucked the tiny tick from her skin. He held it up briefly for her to see that it was in her hold, before tossing it into the fire, where it disappeared with a faint sizzle.

“It’s gone,” he reassured, but then his face wrinkled, “but there might be more. You should check yourself over, just to be safe.”

Her heart surged as she was hit by another wave of panic. The thought of more ticks crawling on her skin left her on the verge of tears as she nodded quickly. She was struggling to keep her composure. “I don’t think I can. Could you?”

Anthony hesitated, his throat clearing as he looked at each of his and her friends. Then, he ran his hand over his jawline before giving a small nod, “alright, let’s go inside.”

They left the warmth of the fire together, Margeaux’s quick steps leading the way. She didn’t stop until they were enclosed by the shadows of the bedroom. It was quiet there, the amber glow of the table top lamp at her bedside. It was too intimate; she decided quickly, but not even turning on the overhead light erased the feeling of uneasiness that came with the reality of what she told him to do.

Margeaux’s hands trembled slightly as she undressed, peeling off her clothes layer by layer until she stood in nothing but her bra and underwear. She felt exposed, vulnerable, but also annoyed. Her bra and panties didn’t match, and were far from cute - but she hadn’t exactly planned for anyone else to see them. Especially not Anthony.

But he didn’t seem to notice as he turned around from closing the door behind her, and if he didn’t, he didn’t comment on it. Anthony was completely quiet as he approached her. He stood in her shadow, his hands reaching out to rest on her shoulders with such a gentleness Margeaux held her breath. “You ready?”

Margeaux nodded, giving him the permission he needed to continue. He checked her carefully, his hands moving over her skin with a touch that was both methodological and tender. His hands didn’t linger in any place too long, but Margeaux’s skin was lit ablaze as it lingered. She could feel it burn down her arms, her back and even her legs. But it was only as his fingers reached the band of her bra that Margeaux held her breath.

“Sometimes,” Anthony’s words were a mere whisper, “sometimes they like to hide here,” he explained softly.

Margeaux nodded slowly, her throat too tight to speak. She didn’t give him the time to undo it himself. Instead, she reached behind her and unclasped the bra for him. She could hear it hit the floor, her eyes going shut at the sound, and she turned slowly to face Anthony.

When she opened her eyes, Anthony’s face was a deep shade of red, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he reached out with careful, respectful hands, and he continued his search. He stroked along the impression the bra had left behind on her skin and caressed the underside of her breasts.

It left her shuddering.

Margeaux hoped he didn’t notice.

“There’s nothing,” Anthony finally said, his voice soft as he met her eyes.

Margeaux let herself breathe again, relieved. “Thank you.”

That should have been his queue to leave, for Margeaux to pull away and find her clothes, but neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke, either. They just shared a soft gaze. Margeaux’s heart pounded in her chest as she let herself realize a single face: The connection they had shared years ago was still there. She felt it; it was undeniable. Maybe he felt it, too.

Margeaux reached out, her fingers brushing against his arm, and she watched his shoulders tense as his breath hitched. For a moment, it seemed like time stood still. The world outside their small quiet room was forgotten, and Anthony was dropping to his knees.

“There’s one last place I can check,” he whispered, his eyes not once leaving hers.

Anthony’s hands reached out, taking hold of her hips carefully. His thumbs stroked over the soft cotton fabric, moving back and forth so slowly it was almost painful.

Margeaux squirmed in place, pressing her thighs firm together before relaxing at the feeling of him dragging the fabric down her legs slowly. The fabric teased her skin on the way down, sending Margeaux’s head lulling back and her eyes fluttering shut. She could only feel him then, as the careful touch of his hands found her inner thighs. He stroked the skin carefully, as if he were still checking for ticks, but then she felt his hot breath.

She felt his mouth.

Margeaux gasped, his kiss hot as it worked its way so close to the apex that her legs trembled. Anthony braced her legs with the strength of his arms, keeping her upright. It was enough to make her whine as she reached out with both hands, her fingers finding his dark curls to knit into.

The simple touch drew him in closer, his hot breath ghosting over her sweet heat just long enough for her core to clench before he was guiding each of her legs over his shoulders. He picked her up with such effortlessness, his face pressed against her pelvis and her belly as he carried her across the room and laid her out on her half made bed.

Its soft impact had Margeaux's eyes shooting open, taking in the sight of the ceiling as Anthony kissed a burning trail up her body and into her view. He hovered over her for a moment, his own chin slick with saliva, before leaning in and kissing her in a way they never had as teenagers.

They had been so young and inexperienced back then. So eager and impatient to kiss, and to fuck, that the only feeling was one of ecstasy. But they were older now, grown up in so many more ways than just physically. Which was why she moaned when he did something as simple as stoking her skin and gasped when she felt two fingers press against her clit.

They moved in a slow circle as he kissed her, her body beginning to coil with the pleasure of his touch. Margeaux’s breasts heaved as she threw her head back into the pillows, her hands tugging blindly at the fabric of his shirt, and his short, that she wasn't going anywhere without his help.

Anthony eased back, tugging his shirt free first and tossing it aside. His hand dropped to his shorts next, but Margeaux was sitting up, her mouth taking its own assault on his stomach and abs. She could feel his chuckle on her lips before it left his laced in his words, “lay back, Princess.”

She melted away from him like chocolate, her body sprawling out and legs spread as he shimmied off the bed and discarded his shorts on the floor. He was gone so long, Margeaux felt cold, but when he returned, she pulled him closer and closer just to stay warm. Legs intertwined, and her arms reached around him so her manicure could claw at the strength of his shoulders as he eased into her. Her gasp was swallowed by his kiss as his hips rolled. Margeaux met his every tender movement as he remembered exactly what she liked and discovered more. It left her trembling with the climax of her pleasure as his one hand reached to cradle the back of her neck. His thick fingers knitting in her blonde strands, drawing her forehead up to rest against his. It was his tell. He was about to come. Margeaux grinned, her core coaxing him to the very peak of his pleasure, his mouth left gaping with a silent moan.

They were both left smiling when they were through, Margeaux’s hands reaching out to stroke through his sweaty curls. Anthony was still buried deep within her as he turned his head just enough to kiss the supple skin of her palm. He was sweet, too sweet, and Margeaux almost hated it. He hadn’t changed a bit in the seven years they were apart. Yet, there she lay, feeling like herself for the first time in a long time.

It left her dizzy as he rolled out of bed, her body anchoring itself to the blankets beneath her as if merely being void from him was going to leave her floating away. She lay there in the bed, listening to Anthony as he moved about the room. Margeaux didn’t know exactly what he was doing. She didn’t think to look, but as he turned off the lights, she was sure he had to be collecting his things so he could leave. But the opening and closing of the door never came. Instead, it was the squeaking of the springs to meet her ears as he crawled into her bed.

Margeaux cuddled close to him, her head on his chest as she looked at the wall across from them. She could see that the firelight had died. Their friends had turned in for the night. There was no bonfire for them to run back to. With no obligations, they lay there together in silence, avoiding any heavy conversation they could have had. They lay with their bodies intertwined, Anthony’s hand stroking up and down the length of her back slowly and Margeaux’s head resting on his chest. There, she listened to the steady rhythm of his heart, and it was the last thing she heard as she let herself drift off to sleep.

Part Four.

The last morning at the cabin dawned with a bittersweet quiet. The sun cast a warm golden glow over the trees that cast sprawling shadows into the bedroom where Margeaux had regrettably spent most of her weekend. The first day she had isolated herself completely, spending day and night in the bedroom. The second day, she had let Carrie pressure her into the hike, and the second night she spent with Anthony. But waking up next to him, his warm skin still within her reach as the sun’s light shined down across his features left Margeaux wanting more.

She wanted more time with her friends to take in the serene beauty of the forest that left her feeling like she was living in a dream. She wanted to learn how to chop up firewood, to forage or even to paddle board if she was feeling bold enough. But most of all, she wanted to spend time with Anthony. To continue playing her little game of what if they hadn’t grown apart all those years ago…

What if she had followed him to New York?

Would they have gotten married?

What if she had reached out when he had been traded to Vancouver?

Would she have been the cheater instead of the one who had been cheated on?

What if they didn’t have to say goodbye?

Would he even message her back if she tried?

Margeaux shut her eyes tight, fighting back the tears that began to build. She had come out there for answers, but she seemed to be leaving with even more. Yet, Margeaux answered the most important one she had: What comes next for me?

The answer was that Margeaux didn’t know what would be next. There was no way for her to tell. Whatever she could imagine happening would be faced by too many unknowns caused by chance or by fate, would alter her course. There would always be a path she didn’t take.

Margeaux let her tears fall in hot streams that lead down to the corners of her relieved smile. She tasted the salt of her tears with her tongue as she licked them away, only for the palms of her hands to come up to finish the job.

Anthony rolled over in bed next to her, his hand coming down on her shoulder gently as he spoke, his voice heavy with concern, “hey, you okay?”

“Yeah,” Margeaux nodded, “I’m okay.”

They lay there for a moment, the silence heavy. Neither of them spoke, Anthony’s mouth on Margeaux’s shoulder just breathing in the very scent of her. And Margeaux hid her face in the pillows, her eyes shut tight and her chest aching. She wasn’t ready to leave - she wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

But then, Carrie took the moment she had to do it away from her. She came bursting through the door with little care as to what Margeaux was doing. Eyes on her phone, Carrie was talking before she could even look at Margeaux and Anthony, who nobody knew she had taken to bed, “get up bitch,” she said endearingly. “It’s time to go home. Oh, and I have this for you, consider it a reward for playing nice with Anthony all weekend for me.”

She reached into the pocket of her daisy dukes and drew out Margeaux's phone. Carrie tossed it towards the bed, and her eyes following its course right to where it landed at Anthony's feet.

“Oh, fuck!” she stumbled back as she shrieked, “I’m so - fuck - sorry!”

“I’ll be right down!” Margeaux called out after her, her own voice weak with embarrassment.

Margeaux hadn’t planned on being caught.

Stumbling out of bed, Margeaux grabbed the clothes that were lost on the floor the night before, and shoved them into her never unpacked bag. She rummaged through it, grabbing a pale yellow sundress and polling it over her bare body. Then Margeaux did something she would quickly regret. She expertly grabbed every single one of her bags and left without even a glance.

It wasn’t until she was standing at the trunk of the car, yet again in the predicament of trying to make everything fit, that Margeaux looked back at the cabin. She wore a soft smile, thankful that Carrie had convinced her to come, and it only grew as Anthony stumbled out onto the deck in nothing more than the same pair of shorts he had worn the night before. He hadn’t even stopped to put on shoes, which Margeaux was sure he regretted the moment his feet hit the gravel driveway. But that didn’t stop him from walking straight down the driveway to her.

He stood close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body, and smell the familiar scent of him without it having to get caught in the breeze. The air between them was thick with both humidity and the words left unspoken - anything they wanted to say, they had to say it now.

Finally, Anthony was the one to break the silence. “You all packed up?”

Margeaux almost winced. They had always had an effortlessness about them, but for the first time, it was as if neither of them knew what to say.

“Yeah, just have to work the last suitcase in,” Margeaux gestured to the car before crossing both arms over her chest.

There was another pause, filled by the rustle of leaves, the clamor of suitcases as they fell out of the trunk, and Carrie’s string of curses as she was left to play Tetris with the suitcases again. Anthony glances at her, trying to hide a smile as he leaned in one step closer to Margeaux and slipped his hand into his pocket. When he pulled it out, he was grinning ear to ear. “Well, I think you forgot this.”

Margeaux looked down, her face going bright red at the sight of her panties in his hand. “Anthony!” she spoke in a hushed whisper as both hands went to him. She pushed them back down, hiding the light cotton fabric back in his pocket. She let them fall there, loose in the fabric of his pocket, and pulled his hand free to hold.

“I’ve had enough embarrassment for one day,” she smiled.

Anthony laughed. Then he smiled as he spoke again, changing the subject as he did, “I’m glad you came… And I’m glad we got to spend some time together.”

Margeaux felt a heavy lump form in the back of her throat. One that she swallowed back with her smile. “Me too. It’s been… it’s been really good for me.”

Anthony took away the remaining space between them and captured her in a tight embrace. His arms were strong and comforting around her, and as much as she should have pulled away, Margeaux let herself sink into the hug. She held him, knowing that it very well may be the last time. She closed her eyes, trying to take a mental picture of the feeling of him, and listened to the steady beat of his heart harmonizing with hers.

“Thank you Anthony,” her voice trembled as she buried her face into her neck, “for helping me find myself again.”

He didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to. Nothing he could say could mean as more to her than what he had done for her in the limited number of hours they got to be with one another, and he knew that. She knew he did. She could feel it in how he held her tighter, in how his hand so gently stroked through her messy blond hair and down the length of her back. And when they finally pulled back, she could see it in his eyes, too. His gaze was soft and his eyes bright, but the smile he gave her didn’t reach his eyes.

Maybe he was feeling the same heaviness in his chest too–maybe he didn’t want to say goodbye…

“Take care of yourself, Margeaux,” he told her softly.

“I will,” she promised, her voice heavy with the emotion she choked to the very back of her throat, “you too–and good luck next season, wherever you end up.”

Anthony nodded, and for a moment looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. Instead, he reached out with one arm and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered there against her skin for a moment, a soft barely there touch before he pulled back and smiled a little wider. This time, Margeaux saw it reach his eyes as he gave her one last lingering look before he turned and walked back up the steps, leaving Margeaux standing by the car as the trunk came down in a sudden thud as Carrie closed it.

Margeaux jumped in place, her hand lurching to rest over her heart. It raced hard, pounding against the inside of her ribcage as her head snapped to look at her best friend. Carrie was grinning widely, devilishly. “Sorry, did I kill the moment?”

“Moment?” Margeaux’s voice broke. “What moment?”

Did she mean the moment she watched Anthony go, her chest heavy with the weight of their goodbye? Or the part of her that stood there, waiting to see if she herself would call out to him to extend their reconnection beyond their brief reunion in the forest.

Either way, Margeaux would deny it all if Carrie asked, because she couldn’t even be honest with herself. It was easier that way. She wasn’t ready for another relationship, not now, not so soon after everything that happened. And Anthony? He was a comfort, a reminder of who she used to be when things were simpler, when love was just about date nights at the movies and the fairy tale worlds they thought would come after highschool.

But so much time had passed, and as much as she still loved him, and always would, they would never be what they once were. Surely, they have changed too much, and the paths they were on led in different directions.

“You got everything packed up?” Margeaux asked Carrie with a smile, “I need to get out of here. I don’t think I could survive another mosquito bite.”

“Yeah,” Carrie smiled as she moved to stand by the driver’s side, “so get your ass in the car and start a playlist.”

Margeaux's heart jolted with excitement. Her phone! She had her phone! Reaching into her back pocket, Margeaux brought her phone to life with the long hold of the power button. Carrie had kept the battery charged, and for that Margeaux was thankful. The itch to check her social media consumed her body as she got into the passenger’s seat, with Charlotte and Samantha both seated behind her. Instead, she opened her Spotify, put on Good Luck, Babe! by Chappell Roan, and it became their soundtrack as the car pulled out of the drive. She dropped the phone to her lap as she moved along with the music in her seat.

The buttons hit her lap just right, taking a screen capture of her playlist. Instead of letting it be, Margeaux picked up her phone and went to her gallery to remove it. It was there she saw pictures she had never known were being taken. A collection that started from the moment she had arrived at the cabin, right down to the very moment Anthony had taken her inside the night before to check her for ticks. Carrie had captured every little moment, and Margeaux hadn’t noticed, not even once.

Margeaux’s lips parted in a wavering breath as she looked at Carrie in the driver’s seat. She was wearing a cheeky grin.

“Thank you,” Margeaux smiled.

“You’d do the same for me,” Carrie blew her a kiss playfully, “besides, it’s the least I could do for dragging you out to my booty call and actually getting laid!”

The girls in the back hollered. Samantha even reached around the passenger’s seat and nudged her playfully. But Margeaux paid no mind to it all. Instead, her eyes had found the rearview mirror, and watched as Anthony and the cabin grew smaller and smaller in the rearview until it was nothing more than photos on a screen.

She had gone to the cabin with her heart broken, but as they drove away, she felt something new. A quiet strength, a sense of peace - she was healing, and it was because of Anthony. Smiling, Margeaux rested her head on the cool glass of the window, tilted just right to have the air conditioning hit her face just right and she put together a playlist that would carry them back home. To the city where she would forge her next path alone and Margeaux, she was ready to embrace it.

TAGLIST: @equallyshaw , @mp0625 , @charles11700 , @swissboyhisch , @wingedwheelprxncess , @luvmarner , @fandomrejects , @misunderstoodwerewolf , @callsign-denmark , @puckmaidens , @cixrosie , @starshine-hockey-girl

#anthony beauvillier fanfic #anthony beauvillier #mat barzal #hockey rpf #hockey smut #nhl rpf #nhl fanfic #original character

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immortalbutterflycos · 7 months

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A bit belated, but here's a Valentine's Day microfic for you all~

414 words

“Is there anything you want for Valentine’s Day, love?” James’s voice is a tranquil rumble in his chest as he savors how soft Regulus looks lying down on their blanket with his head resting in James’s lap. His fingers gently massage Regulus’s scalp, his nails lightly scraping against his skin, earning a quiet, satisfied hum.

It’s the first warm day in months so when James asked if they could go on a picnic this morning, looking at him with those big, sparkly doe-eyes, Regulus wouldn’t have been able to think of an excuse not to have one even if he wanted to. So together they prepared a simple lunch with tea and strawberries for dessert. The remains of which sit pushed off to the side while James continues his tender ministrations.

For the last ten, maybe twenty minutes, Regulus has been drifting deeper and deeper into his semi-conscious state, fully allowing the warm fuzzy feeling that’s settled deep in his chest to consume him. So when he hears the question, he doesn’t actually hear it.

“Regulus?” James asks, lightly stroking a finger down the length of his nose. Regulus lets out a barely audible hum, earning a light chuckle from the other man. “Love, did you hear me?” Regulus hums again in dissent.

“I asked if there was anything you wanted for Valentine’s Day since it’s coming up pretty soon.”

Regulus’s eyes flutter open so he can look up at James.

“Don't need anything.” He murmurs, “Just you.”

James practically melts right then and there, his face softening impossibly.

“Love, you’ll always have me.”

“Good,” Regulus says as he smiles up at him, reaching out to cup James’ cheek. James covers Regulus’s hand with his own, nuzzling into it to press a lingering kiss to his palm.

“I love you so much Reg, you know that?”

“I do,” He says. Because he does. Of all the uncertain things in Regulus’ life, the fact that James loves him more than anything in the world is not one of them. “I love you more though.”

James grins.

“Unlikely.”

Regulus rolls his eyes but a smile still plays on his lips.

“Prove it then,” He challenges. James laughs and leans down to press a lingering kiss to his lips before whispering against them an acceptance of the challenge; a promise.

“Maybe I will.”

And if the ring in his sock drawer has anything to say about it, it’s a challenge James is determined to win.

#jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #jegulus microfic #regulus black #james potter #the marauders #marauders era #valentines day #I love them so much #microfic #the softest of vibes #I felt so warm writing this

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idliketobeatree · 2 months

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prompt: mindreading

pairing: crystal/niko (heavily implied, but can be read as one-sided pining if that's your jam), ficlet, 700~ words, T

———

"Wait, you want me to read your mind? You're not scared of someone taking a peek into that brain of yours?"

Maybe it's because of her own peculiar experiences with... not exactly unwanted, but genuinely huge mistakes of wanted guests in her head. But Crystal cannot fathom the idea to voluntarily make anyone privy to your thoughts, on a whim. She's done it enough for other people, sure; usually under the disguise of a case and protected by the motives, but she still had a preference of simply talking to people, hoping for the best that they would disclose the necessary information. Her budding empathy clashes somewhat with her psychic powers. There was a time she vaguely remembers, where she wouldn't bat an eye at using them for her advantage, even if it meant stepping on a few heads. Well. Not anymore.

It made something in her chest feel noble; a sensation she was not used to.

With great power comes great responsibility, et cetera, right?

Nevertheless, the casual allowance of Niko to make herself comfy in her brain, with no specific time slot seems intimate down to a T. Something you would allow under very specific circumstances, preferably after thorough discussion with the subject. A life or death situation, perhaps. It would be reserved for the closest bunch of people, unless your poor judgement decided to omit the jarring red flags and said, you know what, my scarlet matches your ruby.

There are choices you cannot go back from, as she is painfully aware.

In her lap, Niko brushes two fingers along Crystal's knuckles, from where she is cradling her palm. It feels strangely precious, encased in the softness of the other girl's hand. Crystal's gaze glides over to the intricate rings matching the long, beautiful pastel nails, decorated with small pearls and tiny ribbons. The touch brings dual sensations: there are the pads, soft like a cat's and similar to it, the sharper points of the nails leave blunt dents on the top of her palm. She belately realises, I wouldn't mind if you pressed harder. Make me feel it.

Crystal's gaze snaps back upwards, guiltily. She almost regrets it. The way Nico's face twists into a shy smile, Crystal feels the touch spark through her hand and race towards the chest like a livewire, a pulsing need. "I have nothing to hide from you."

"That's not true. Everyone has secrets they want to keep," she protests weakly.

"I promise to keep it G-rated," Niko laughs, and Crystal is lightheaded from it, glad she is already sitting down, because hey, did she just—

"Crystal. You need to see the bird."

Before she can cut it short, Niko lifts the hand she so generously cradled up to her forehead— in a mimicry of the main guy from— uh, was it the X-Men movies? Like she believed touching the temples while mindreading was essential to the process. Crystal's powerless against the flutter of her eyelashes when she's trying to focus and relax at once, the slightest of frowns gracing her forehead.

Her fingers are being gripped harder, determined. She wants to keep her there.

Crystal debates on whether it would work anyway, because how could she think about some stupid bird, when Niko is right there? An open, well-loved paperback, ready to fill you with strange images of her own design.

She gets hit with a memory like a pop-up ad, but without the surge of overwhelm and annoyance, the part where she's prying open inside smoother than anticipated.

The sight comes with a filter of pure admiration and some childlike wonder. The edges of the vision are swimming in bright, peak summer hues, teal sky and rich green bushes with pinkish yellow sparkling in the heat. Niko must have watched the scene from a sidewalk, and she had to be pretty close to see so clearly. The crow inside the memory drops a walnut from its beak right before a car drives over it, cracking open the hard shell, and the bird dives precisely half a second later, catching the remains of the nut in mid-air. Show off, Crystal snickers to herself. Surprisingly, she finds a familiar, amused chuckle reverbating around her temple. It's strange enough that Crystal gets thrown out of the vision far too quickly. She pushes the need to stay, down.

Niko cracks open one eye, apparently much too excited to keep going. "Did you see that? Did you see?"

"Uh. Yeah. I did." It's a tiny shock, to come out of the vision. "That was..."

Unexpected. Amazing. If I saw the world through your eyes, I wouldn't think it's genuine shit all the time.

"...nice."

#wlw pining my utter beloved #niko sasaki #crystal palace #palasaki #twirls my hair and giggles #crystiko #dead boy detectives #ficlet #dbda #dbda fic #snippet #dead boy detective agency #marcela writes #inspired as always by the Loveliest Bunch of People from the DGD server chat 💕

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uriwoos2 · 3 months

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fallin' in love overnight ☾ ִֶָ ⋆ (kjh)

pairing: best friend!junghoon x gn!reader. genre: attempt at crack, fluff. overview: a trip to the amusement park doesn't go as planned, but no worries! junghoon saves the day. a hint at friends to lovers(?) word count: 3.1k warnings: first time writing crack, so don't expect much( っc ) junghoon and reader are kinda childish^^ ♡ note: this is the promised (belated) lil gift for hoonie's bday! my longest fic yet! I have so so much love for him in my heart, i don't know where to put it ૮꒰ ˃̵͈᷄ ﻌ ˂̵͈᷅ ꒱ა˚ ° anyway, I'm still getting used to writing longer fics, so pls be patient w me^^ and ofc! happiest birthday to our precious boy, hoping he's the healthiest and is eating well! ♡ˎˊ˗ likes & reblogs are super super appreciated! — with love, cream <3

♪₊˚ song: softly — clairo.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

*ring*..........*ring*..........*ring*...........

after yet another unsuccessful dial, you sigh to yourself as you end the call. this boy never answers his phone!

the truth is, you weren't mad, not in the slightest.. but he promised to be here soon and it's been almost twenty minutes, how long could it possibly take to buy a couple of churros!?

you puff your cheeks and exhale heavily. you two wouldn't usually opt for separating, always keen on doing everything together, but the ever increasing crowd in the already bustling theme park urged you both to divide the tasks, since you wanted to go on at least some of the rides.

so that's how you ended up in an endless queue for the roller coaster, while junghoon went off to get some snacks for you guys to eat while you waited. but he wasn't coming back, and sure, the line would most likely be big for the churros as well, but it was taking way too long and you were getting just so worried. you just needed to make sure he was okay, but you couldn't reach him through your phone and he's nowhere to be seen!

who has their phone on silent while they're out, for god's sake, junghoon!

your eyes are glued in place, staring in the general direction of where he went off to almost half an hour ago. your anxiety is through the roof right now, making you unable to stand still. you're already feeling a bit timid, being alone in such an enormous crowd of unfamiliar faces isn't such a pleasant feeling.

that's it! I'm going to go look for him!

the impatience got the best of you, and you didn't even care about any of the rides anymore, the only thing on your mind right now was finding junghoon and ensuring his safety.

what if he got lost? that guy has a terrible sense of direction... you think to yourself, as you're squeezing your way through the line of people, getting more and more concerned by each passing minute.

okay.. the churro stand... find the churro stand, yes. hmm... he went that way earlier... right! it's definitely that way!

but you find that it is easier said than done, as you're going in circles trying to locate the churro stand, the stupid churros and that silly boy! where the heck is he?!...

you're getting entirely too frustrated, feeling completely helpless to the point where you're on the verge of tears, and on top of that you're being squished by people all around, the amount of people in the park just seeming to grow continuously. crowding you on all sides, the enormous swarm of people pushes you around, completely cutting off your ability to see anything but the backs of strangers in front of you. a wave of panic hits you when you can't seem to get out of this arbitrary cage they've created for you, the press of the crowd too suffocating.

your legs are about to give out on you from how weak and powerless you're feeling, your mind having trouble to stay focused, when you feel a warm hand slip into your own.

..it's junghoon!!

your eyes regain focus as they meet his and you feel like you can breathe again, he squeezes your hand gently, signaling you to follow him. you slowly manage to slip through the small gaps in the crowd, junghoon’s fingers firmly gripping yours in order to not lose you.

"what were you doing there?" he questions after you both successfully leave the crowd behind, "that was the line for the bumper cars! didn't you say we'd be going on the roller coaster?" there's no hint of anger in his voice, you can tell he's just confused.

ahh.. he probably went to look for me right as I left.. if only I had waited a little longer.

"yes- yes, I did. I guess I got swayed by the crowd by mistake.. but anyway! you were taking just so long, and I got worried thinking you got lost, so I tried calling you but you didn't pick up! then I went to look for you and I couldn't even find the damn churro stand!" you say everything in one breath, as junghoon just stands there listening intently, his features showing slight hints of amusement.

he lets out a chuckle as you're trying to steady your breathing. "huh? is that funny? hey! junghoon I swear to god, if you don't learn to use your phone for it's actual purpose I won't come with you next time, and you can have fun enjoying the rides all by yourself!" you push your hand through your hair, exasperated with the boy in front of you.

junghoon straightens his expression, going back to his default serious face as he responds, "no, it wasn't funny, I'm sorry for laughing." despite his words, there's an undeniable tug in the corner of his lips. clearly, he's amused.

you decide to just leave it at that, feeling so drained from all the overwhelming things that happened today, "anyway, did you get the churros, at least?" junghoon averts your eyes for a moment, answering sheepishly, "it was taking too long, and I didn't want you to wait all by yourself, so I kinda just left..." he scratches the back of his head.

"if you were that worried, you could've just picked up your stupid phone!" you retort, playfully hitting his arm.

he looks at you for a good minute not knowing what to say, and you're staring back, your brows furrowed in frustration. junghoon tries to immitate your irritated frown, but it just looks so unnatural that you burst into laughter, and at that he doubles over in chuckles too.

after a few minutes of uncontrollable giggling, you both attempt to regain your composure, the situation too ridiculous for the both of you to handle. junghoon slips in a little 'sorry' between his chuckles, acknowledging your concern about checking his phone. you examine him for a bit, scanning for sincerity in his apology.

in the end you just shake your head dismissively, going to sit on the bench nearby, but something seems to be keeping you in place, jerking you right back as you try to take a step.

upon realizing that you were still holding hands, you and junghoon dramatically drop each other's hands instantaneously. you're sure your face was the color of a tomato right now, prompted by your heart that was beating through your chest.

how could I not notice I was still holding onto his hand!?!??! how embarrassing...

you take a seat on the bench, resting your palms on your knees awkwardly. junghoon, who's cheeks have flushed pink, follows in tow and sits down stiffly on the other end.

"hey, I'm sorry, I didn't realize-" he begins to apologize, turning slightly toward you, but you don't want to make things even more awkward, so you interrupt him, eager to change the subject, "no, no, it's alright, I think we should just think about what we're gonna do now, because we don't have any snacks, and since I left my line, we lost that too, sorry about that by the way.." you trail off, desperate to distract him.

he rushes to answer you, "no, that's fine, I mean I also abandoned the churros so.." he scratces his head again, while you're trying to calm your drumming heartbeat.

why am I so affected by this!?!??

you rack your brain for any ideas as to what you two could do, when junghoon notes loudly, pointing his finger in a certain direction, "look! the line for ice cream isn't so long, we can go buy that and.." he whips his head around, looking for something, "and then we can get on the ferris wheel! it's gonna get dark soon so they'll turn the lights on, it'll be pretty!.. what do you think?" he looks at you with sparkling eyes, awaiting your response.

he's so excited about it that you can't help but think that he's cute. it's so uncharacteristic of him to be so childish, his usual demeanor, especially with other people being super serious and put together, that when he lets this side of him show you can't let it go unnoticed.

he's just so adorable like this.

you giggle a little at his giddy expression, "yeah, okay, the ferris wheel isn't so busy either, but this time let's go together, alright?" you ask, knowing you're gonna end up in some kind of trouble again if you don't.

he returns your smile, nodding his head happily. the liveliness of today's little date returning, both of your moods lightening significantly even more so as you're stood in front of the ice cream parlor, picking out the flavors.

it's not long after that you're walking back to line up at the ferris wheel, and your ice cream's started to melt already, "that girl put so many sprinkles on mine, oh my god." junghoon is beaming at this point, eagerly savouring his ice cream.

you scoff, coming to a stop as you've arrived at the bottom of the wheel, "yeah, and mine has extra caramel drizzle too, makes up for all the bad luck we've had today." that earns you a chuckle from junghoon, his ice cream rubbing all over his mouth.

"aaah, your mouth got all messy, junghoon would you eat you ice cream properly?" you nag at him, and before you realize what you're doing, your hand instinctively reaches up to wipe at his lips.

"there's so much, and it's everywhere! how can you manage to make such a mess in a matter of seconds?!" you take a napkin out of your bag to clean it off your hands.

"sorry." he says in a soft voice. you look back up to meet his eyes, but he just turns his head to the side, cheeks turning pink.

why is he acting weird all of a sudden?

it takes a moment for you to register the weight of your actions, after what happened before, and that's enough to make your heartbeat rapid again.

why am I so nervous about this? I'm never nervous when I'm with junghoon. this is how we act normally, so it should mean nothing.. right?

even so, you can't help but feel a little shy, the atmosphere between you shifting, a bit different now. you can tell he picked up on it too, but he's way better at keeping his composure.

you don't really talk more, not until you're already on the ferris wheel, both having finished your ice creams and settled on opposite seats in the pod. junghoon breaks the silence with a question, "you think, this thing will shake when we're on the top? it's kinda unsettling." there's genuine concern in his eyes, gaze darting all around, checking for any faults.

he tends to get freaked out quite easily when he's like this, so you rush to reassure him, "no- even if it does, it's not a safety hazard, hoon. besides, it won't even move around so much that it's noticeable." your words seem to sate his anxiety slightly, his figure relaxing into the seat.

"hey, weren't you the one who suggested to go on this ride in the first place? why'd you do that if you're so frightened?" you ask, bewildered.

he seems reluctant to respond, but does so in a quiet tone, "because I didn't want this outing to go to waste, especially when we don't really get to spend much time with each other these days." he scratches at his forehead, "I wanted you to enjoy this trip, and I couldn't let our day be ruined just like that.. you even made time to come with me today, so.." he trails off, thinking for a moment and then adds, "i- I mean I'm not even that scared either, so you don't need to worry."

he was willing to do it, even if he was afraid.. just for my sake?...

your heart swells at the thought, instantly feeling shy at his words, your mind going into a frenzy, "thank you.. for thinking of me. but you know I'm fine with simply spending time with you, right? we don't need to do these things for me to have fun, even sitting in silence is nice when it's with you." you respond with a smile, feeling so nice at the thought that junghoon cares so much.

but what you failed to pick up on was the effect your words had on him, because you we're too busy thinking about his own. the boy was a blushing, fidgeting mess, eyes looking everywhere but you, already having forgotten about his concerns for the safety of the pods.

junghoon was struggling to keep a straight face, fighting off the brightest grin, relishing in the fact that you found his mere presence pleasant company. it got so bad that he covered his mouth with his hand, cautiously looking at you from the corner of his eye, checking to see if you'd noticed anything. but much to his relief, you were already way too captivated with the view in front of you.

the evening sky gradually dimming, letting a couple of stars shine through it's dark veil, along with the colorful carousel lights glimmering brightly down bellow, making everything look so picturesque. junghoon was right, the view is beautiful from up here.

the boy himself, however, wasn't really paying attention to the view, eyes now fully fixed on your face, admiring the way your eyes twinkled at the mesmerizing sight out front, and the way your mouth parted slightly in awe at the glowing lights.

at this point his heart was drumming through his chest, confusing him with this surge of unfamiliar feelings toward you. the thoughts in his mind were going wild too, all tangled and muddled, no coherency in the way they were being thrown at him. but despite it all, one tiny thought managed to slip through all the chaos, displaying itself loud and clear before him, 'pretty.' taking him by surprise, immediately going beet red at the mere thought of it.

he didn't get to think about it much before you were interrupting his little internal monologue, "hey! look, we're at the very top already! there's so many stars now.. and you were totally right about the lights being pretty, I like it so much!" beaming from ear to ear, it was impossible not to notice the pure joy radiating from you. this simple fact calmed junghoon's heart, relieved to see that you were enjoying yourself.

he sunk back in his seat with a tender look in his eyes and a soft smile on his lips, all of it directed toward the person in front of him. he didn't know what the feelings he felt toward you meant right now, and he didn't want to figure them out either, because this was more than enough, having you before him, happy and smiling. if he could watch that for eternity, he'd be forever grateful.

you were so captivated by the beautiful view that you couldn't really notice the slight shift in the air, everything feeling so much more intimate in the tiny ferris wheel cabin, as it always tends to get. but when you pulled your attention back to junghoon, you were met with a gaze you couldn't quite label with a name, and in spite of that it made you blush, knowing he'd been staring at you the whole time, "hey, why won't you say anything? it's making me feel embarrassed for being so excited about this.." you ask sheepishly, wanting to break the silence that settled between you.

junghoon, however, seemed to be zoning out, your words snapping him out of the daze he was previously in, "no, i- I'm just glad you're enjoying the view, didn't want to interrupt you, since the ride only lasts for a few more minutes." he pushes his hair back, stray strands falling onto his forehead, another mesmerizing sight you've seen today.

you're so focused on it that you forget to reply, but the pod's doors opening quite literally startles you, making you jump a bit in your seat. junghoon chuckles briefly at that, before leaning forward to talk to the guy working the ferris wheel, "we'll take another round, please." and then turns back to you, giving you a smile.

I think he can read my mind. either that or he just knows me too well. either way... he's being so nice to me..

you're trying to accommodate your heart with the amount of appreciation you've just accumulated for junghoon, feeling so well taken care of and cherished that your heart is about to burst. you realize you have to actually vocalize your thoughts to him though, so you go to thank him quickly, "hey, I appreciate that a lot, thank you. but we can enjoy the view while talking this time around, I don't mind at all.. I'd like to, actually." you feel a bit too bashful saying the last bit, but you feel like you need to, really really need to.

junghoon seems to be caught off guard by that but doesn't let it show too much, "alright, okay, hmm.. wanna talk about that book we've been reading? well, I'm already forgetting some of the stuff so we better pick it up again soon." he chuckles, making you laugh as well, admiring his ability to start a conversation so simply, and naturally.

you guys spend the second time around the wheel talking about the said book, and on the third one you count the stars, and on the fourth you talk about everything and nothing, laughing so much, that when you finally get off the ride, both your guys' cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

you don't know if you like junghoon like that yet, and you definitely have no idea if you'd want to act on those feelings either, but you don't need to rush to find out. that's the good thing about being friends with junghoon, you know you can go at your own pace with things, and there's no pressure to figure anything out, knowing he'll never make you feel uncomfortable about it.

it's fine, this is normal.. and I can give myself time to think about this. what matters now, is that we have fun together, and that's all I care about.

you're basking in the aftereffect of the beautiful day you just had, when you feel a jacket being put on your shoulders, "it's got pretty chilly since we went on the ferris wheel, don't you think?" junghoon is stood in front of you now, zipping up the jacket after you've put your arms through it.

he's so sweet to me, I can't help but feel all soft at the sight of him. maybe I really do like him like that...

you can't seem to take your eyes off him as you answer, "yeah, maybe.." he looks up at you, meeting your eyes and then ducking his head in shyness again,

he's too cute, how can I not.

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