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hier--soir · 9 months

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a lover's pinch | one

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: a one-night stand with a charming texan turns into something much more thrilling when you discover he is your new college professor. warnings/tags: au, age gap [20 something years diff], alcohol consumption, irrational sexual tension, smut, sex in a public place w/ a stranger [and i'm talking depraved/zero time wasted/known you for thirty minutes type strangers], oral [f receiving], protected piv, rough sex, dirty talk, a spot of degradation + misogynistic language, a split second of soft!joel, you get the picture word count: 5.9k series masterlist | main masterlist a/n: my friends.... oh boy, oh boy. this series is a complete au, self-indulgent, fantasy land idea that has plagued me for weeks. horny academic brain rot to the highest degree. hope some of you enjoy it with me x

Friday.

You sit with three almost strangers.

Listen to them talk about their summers and their families and their degrees as you twirl a straw around your half-empty glass, disrupting the melting ice as you try to wrap your head around what a master’s in environmental engineering might entail. One of them, the only man at the table, takes great pleasure in explaining it to you all for the second time. You take mental notes and hope he’s not expecting you to remember words like sparging and leachate.

They do ask you about your undergrad, and your internship, nodding and smiling curiously. They don’t ask what type of job you plan on getting after your postgrad, which is a welcome relief. The bombardment of questions from immediate and extended family is enough.

Cousins wondering aloud, saying you study Greek mythology, right?

Or your grandfather, before he died, berating you ad nauseam at family events about what’re you gonna do, kid? Be a historian? There’s no money in being a historian. Now, being a lawyer, that’s where the money is.

And you’d respond no, not quite Greek mythology, and no, I don’t plan on being a historian, as you gorge yourself on red wine and triscuits and wait for Christmas to end.

Thankfully you aren’t expected to rehash these scenarios with your almost strangers, who routinely ask a few well-mannered questions and then go back to talking about themselves.

After a week of living with them, in a new house, and a new city, you’re becoming used to their company. The way the four of you commune lazily in the kitchen most mornings, swathed in the light streaming through a window above the sink, making idle small talk as you wait for coffee to brew. How Pete and Trin study opposite each other at the dining table, while Nora prefers to spread her limbs across the couch, laptop balanced precariously on her stomach. She’s doing her master’s in education, which she describes as an expensive way to get a pay rise. She’s kind, with wild curly hair and dark humour, and is easily your favourite of your new roommates.

It was her idea to go out that night. One last hurrah, she’d called it. Before we enter the final circle of academic hell next week. And between four overworked, already burnt-out, twenty-something students, it hadn’t taken much convincing before you were sharing three bottles of wine and hightailing it to the bar with the highest Yelp rating.

The late August air is dry; a faint warmth that follows you into a quaint bar in downtown Biddeford. The space is small and crowded with patrons, with dim overhead lighting that casts a soft glow across the booth you’re crammed into. A thin sheen of sweat coats your skin, and your shirt sticks to your back uncomfortably. The others seem unbothered by the heat, nursing sweaty glasses and discussing how different Maine is from where they all grew up. You involve yourself here and there, offering up stories about your family and friends from back home, and suddenly an hour has passed, and then another, and you’re pleasantly tipsy, body humming as alcohol spreads its way through your veins, and your latest drink is practically empty, spare a few melting ice cubes.

“I need another drink,” you tell Nora, who nods absently before turning her attention back to the others.

You wander toward the bar, fumbling for your phone as you go. Fall in between two leather cushioned stools and rest your elbows atop the sleek wooden counter. Check your bank account and mentally traverse the list of reasons for returning to student-life when you see the number staring back at you. I don’t want to be a lawyer, I don’t want to be a lawyer, I don’t want to be a lawyer, your internal monologue runs, although you could admit how sweet a solicitor’s pay check would feel right now.

It’s a low, Southern drawl that pulls you from your reverie.

“Mind if I sit here?”

Deep. With a rough, lilting quality that piques your interest and has your eyes drifting upward from your phone screen.

You notice his body first; a tall frame with thick arms, thick shoulders, thick neck. A navy-blue t-shirt that stretches thin around his biceps, hugging the tan skin there. And then you look higher, and—oh.

Your heart stutters a beat out of time as you take in his face. Loose brown curls that are just long enough to hang across his forehead. Dark, almond-shaped brown eyes. So dark they almost appear black on the first glance. The strong nose and dark hair across his jaw, dappled with streaks of grey. A moustache resting atop a set of dark pink lips. Gone are thoughts of academia, of bank accounts, of your almost strangers. All replaced in an instant by wanton, pulsating desire.

Something like surprise cuts across his face, but it disappears just as quickly. In a far recess of your brain, you register that he must be at least twenty years older than you. You wilfully ignore the thought, perfectly content to continue admiring him.

A dark eyebrow ticks upward then, and you realise you haven’t responded.

“No,” you rush, flashing him a quick smile. “All yours.”

He gives you a pleased nod, a hint of a smirk passing over his lips as he sits down. He looks vaguely uncomfortable perched on the tall chair, all six-foot-something of him cramped onto such a small cushion. You cast a single glance back towards the booth, and then slip onto the stool beside him.

Silence descends between you for a moment. A song by The Eagles plays faintly, but you can’t figure which one - too distracted to make out the lyrics. You take a careful sip of the melted ice at the bottom of your glass, taste the last remnants of tequila in it, and watch him out of the corner of your eye.

“’m Joel,” that accent rings again, sending a volt of warmth through your chest.

You tell him your name, fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt. If he notices the tension in your posture, he doesn’t let on. “You a Southern man, Joel?” The name feels warm on your tongue. Soft and silken like honey.

“S’it that obvious?” he grins crookedly, pink lips tearing back to reveal a straight white smile.

“An accent like that is hard to ignore,” you smirk. “It’s not a bad thing.”

‘Thought it would fade a little since I moved here,” he explains. “Y'can take the man outta Texas, but… you know.”

You hum, eyes alight as you watch him speak. His mouth is beautiful, lips parting around prolonged vowels.

“You here alone?” he asks.

“No,” you say. “With friends.”

“Let me guess,” Joel tilts his body, glancing around the bar. His shirt shifts with the movement, hem raising to reveal the slightest hint of a soft, tanned stomach. He points somewhere over your shoulder. You shut your mouth, careful not to gawp. “Them.”

You turn, a soft laugh of surprise bubbling up through your chest when you spy the bachelorette party set up across the bar. Women dressed in gaudy shades of pink. One of them with a sash—reading Jenny’s Big Day—across her chest, a short veil pinned to her head, and an empty champagne glass clutched in her fist. One of them teary-eyed, gripping the bride’s arm and yelling something in her ear, sloshing champagne onto herself all the while.

“You got me,” you turn back to him with a grin. Hold your hands up in mock surrender. “I wouldn’t be caught dead missing Jennifer’s last night as a free woman.”

The corners of his eyes crease, entire face blossoming into a smile now. He has a dimple on his right cheek.

“Knew you were a good girl,” he nods. Says the words in a matter-of-fact tone. Something twists in your stomach, and your palms dampen. You wet your lips quickly and don’t back down from his gaze, allowing the corner of your mouth to kick up a little.

“And you?”

His eyebrows raise in a silent question.

“Who’re you here with?” you clarify.

“Just you, darlin’,” he says, left eye dropping in a quick wink.

It's easy with him, you find, and the two of you sit there for a while; exchanging small talk about Maine, the hot weather, the music at the bar, slipping in flirtatious comments that are about as subtle as a neon sign, until he finally spies the empty glass in your hand.

“What are you drinkin’?” he asks.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” you say, hoping it doesn’t come across too eager. He seems pleased though. There’s something provocative to his gaze, a teasing warmth that raises the temperature of your skin wherever he looks. But whatever it is, it’s gone by the time he reaches across the bar for the bound beverage list.

He peers at the menu, squinting ever-so-slightly to see through the dim lighting of the bar. The skin beside his eyes is soft and creased with age, crow’s feet that hint at years of laughter and smiles. You wonder again how old he is. How much older than you.

“Forget your glasses?” you tease, testing the waters.

Joel’s eyes flash up to yours. The muscle in his jaw ticks.

“Watch it,” he says. There’s a playful note in his voice, but it rings deeper somehow—a hint of a warning.

Your thighs squeeze together on the stool, warm sweaty skin peeling off the tacky leather as you move. His eyes dart to the bare skin of your legs, and then back to the menu.

He orders you both a whiskey, and a moment later the bartender is sliding a crystal tumbler in front of you. A finger of amber liquid with a single grandiose sphere of ice resting in it. Fancy.

“Cheers,” he holds his glass out. You knock yours against it gently before taking a short sip, fighting a grimace as it burns down your throat.

He watches your face closely, tries to gage your reaction. You take another sip, holding strong in your efforts to show him that you can handle it. Whatever he wants to give to you, you can handle.

“So what brings you here?” he asks. You notice how large the glass feels in your palm, and how small it appears in his. Long, thick fingers wrap around the object, dwarfing it. He takes a sip, and you watch him swallow. His Adam’s apple bobs, and you want to graze your teeth across it.

“To the bar or to Maine?”

“Either.”

“Well, I just moved into town last week, from the West Coast. It’s actually my first week back in the US; I was travelling before the big move.”

“Busy girl,” his tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth. You blink. “Travellin’?”

“I was in Greece,” you explain, sip your whiskey and definitely don’t grimace at the harsh taste. “For a month or so.”

“A month in Greece?” His eyebrows raise and he does a low, impressed whistle that has your stare zeroing in on his mouth.

“Ever been?” you ask faintly.

“No,” his reply is swift. “Never had much interest.”

And you’re nodding absentmindedly, but you can’t seem to drag your stare away from his mouth as he speaks. The trance is only broken when he raises his glass for another sip, and you shake yourself out of it, eyes shifting to stare into his brown orbs once more. They’re darker than you remembered, gaze loaded as he looks back at you. The tension was palpable when you first sat together, but now it feels impossible to ignore; an electric tangle of wire between the two of you that just keeps getting shorter and shorter. And you think, fuck it, if you’re about to descend into the final circle of academic hell, why not have a little fun?

“Can I tell you something, Joel?”

You say it softly, make your voice as sultry as possible. He watches you over the rim of his glass, eyes sparkling with intrigue. And then his mouth tilts into a sort of knowing smirk, and he’s nodding.

“I’d really like to kiss you,” you confess.

He hums, smirk broadening.

Sets his glass down on the bar top with a soft clink, and then lowers his hand to the bare skin of your knee. You gasp at the contact, nerves fraught. The callouses on his fingers scrape against your skin in slow, rhythmic circles, goosebumps raising in their wake. His fingers are long, and as he tenses them over you, squeezing your knee once, you see the way deep blue veins flex beneath the skin, hot blood pumping through him. Your stomach turns molten.

“Is that all?” he asks, a taunting lilt to his voice.

Your mouth is dry, eyes wide as you sense the proposition in his words. The hint of something darker—something greedy—in his gaze.

“No,” you say definitively. “That’s not all.”

A sharp tut escapes his mouth, fingertips dragging higher on your leg as he shakes his head. “Do you have any idea how old I am?”

“Don’t look a day over forty,” you hazard a guess, resting your shoe onto the rung of his stool, using the leverage to drag yours closer. Both your legs are between his now, thighs bracketing thighs. The denim of his jeans scrapes against your outer thighs, and you shiver. His hand pauses, fingertips just shy of the hem of your skirt.

Joel wets his lips. “Guess again, sweetheart.”

A low heat licks at the base of your spine, spreading its way through your veins until you feel like you could combust at any given moment. Fuck it.

“Don’t care,” you mutter, and drape your hand over his. You trace your nails over his skin, feel how the bones shift underneath it, how warm he is. He still doesn’t move, face pensive as he regards you. You arch an eyebrow. “You approached me, you know.”

His lips purse tightly. Another squeeze to your thigh, fingers moving again. “I know.”

Driven by boldness, by arcane desire, by animalistic instinct, you lean forward on your barstool and rest your hands atop the thick expanse of his thighs. Hear his breath kick as your nose traces the side of his square jaw, lips settling at the shell of his ear. Right at the soft, sloping crest of his neck. And you whisper those same words again, quiet enough that no one in the world can hear it but him, can I tell you something?

Your movement drove his hand higher on your thigh, the heavy weight of it now settled beneath your skirt, fingertips skimming the indent where your leg meets your hip, toying at the soft fabric of your underwear there. Painfully close to where you want him.

“Yes,” his deep voice rumbles.

Ever so slowly, your tongue slides out of your mouth to trail against his earlobe. Joel’s thighs tense beneath your palms, and you roll the balls of your thumbs against the muscles there.

“I want to kiss you,” you murmur. “So I’m going to. And then I want you to fuck me, just like I know you want to.” Your teeth graze his lobe, and you bite it once, gently, before rearing your face back to peer at him. “Hmm?”

The muscle in his jaw jumps, shifting beneath the skin, and instead of responding verbally he cups your face with a rough hand. Cool drops of condensation from the glass have stuck to his fingers, and the liquid smears across your skin as he cradles your jaw and draws your mouth to his.

Soft lips envelop yours, the coarse hairs of his moustache tickling your face as he steals the breath from your lungs. And when you lick into his mouth you can taste peppermint on his teeth, and then that oh so familiar whiskey tang across his tongue. You don’t mind the taste so much when it’s on his lips.

You nuzzle closer, dig your fingertips firmer into his thighs and grin when a deep groan falls from his mouth into yours. Wet heat pools between your thighs, liquid fire that stokes at your insides, begging for more more more of him. And, as if he can read your mind, Joel is dragging his mouth away, teeth grazing against your swollen bottom lip as he departs.

“Bathroom,” he says, voice low and commanding. “Now.”

Shock and excitement lace your blood, the proposition of something so dirty, so lewd, making your heart race. With your pulse a dull, thrashing roar in your ears, you allow Joel to help you down from your stool. Your legs feel unsteady now that you’re back on solid ground. Gripping your hand, dwarfing it in his, Joel tugs you away from the bar top and towards an obscured hallway. You amble past the bachelorette party, down the dark hall and then he’s pressing a dark hand against the ambulant bathroom door and dragging you inside, sliding the lock shut behind you.

Joel’s on you in a second, arms bracketing you against the door as his wet mouth slips over yours. His hands are so big, all wide palms and long fingers splaying across the entirety of your back, tucking you against his solid chest. He bunches your shirt in his hand, twisting the material between his fingers as he pushes into your mouth. Tongue hot and wet, gliding against your teeth, your tongue, tasting you, devouring you. there’s nothing polite about it. No more wariness, no more hesitation, no more eyes that could see the two of you at the bar. He’s insatiable, touching you everywhere he possibly can, and even then it doesn’t seem like enough for him.

“Fuck, I want you,” you say against his mouth. He makes a low sound in response, and one of his palms lower to grab a handful of your ass, dragging your hips against his. You can feel him, hot and hard, straining in the confines of his jeans. Your hand presses into the crevice between your bodies to palm him through the material, grinning into the kiss when he groans. His lips trail a slick path across your cheek, past your jaw.

“Gonna let me fuck you here?” his hot breath fans across your neck, tongue darting out to taste the salty sweat there.

“Yeah,” you say. “Fuck—yes.”

He steps back, dragging you with him, and then he’s turning you around so that you’re facing the mirror. Your hips dig into the sink, and he’s holding you there, forcing you to stare at your reflection as he bites and licks and sucks down your neck with reckless abandon, leaving marks in his wake. There’s a low, steady throbbing at the apex of your thighs, and you can feel how your underwear clings to your skin, damp and ruined. You whimper, tilt your chin up to give him access to more skin. He grinds against your ass in response, and then he’s crouching down on the ground behind you.

Fast hands push your skirt up over your hips and then flare across your ass, massaging the flesh there. You feel a nip of teeth against the sensitive skin there and flinch into the porcelain. He makes quick work of dragging your underwear down to dangle precariously at your knees. And then long fingers are spreading you apart, revealing you to him. You tilt your hips back so he can see more. Moan at the sensation of cool air rushing to meet your dripping core.

You think you can hear him speaking, but can’t be sure over the sound of your heartbeat in your ears and the low music playing in the bar. And then it doesn’t matter anymore, because you can feel his hot tongue glide through your folds, parting you like the sea. He buries his face in you, nose nudging against your asshole as his tongue swipes at your clit, moaning roughly as he absorbs the taste of you. You’re gasping, hooded eyes staring back at you in the mirror, and this time you can definitely hear him saying you’re so fuckin’ wet. The flat of his tongue smears from your clit to your entrance, and then he’s sinking it inside you. You reach behind your back and card your fingers through his hair, gripping the salt and pepper curls between your fingers and holding him against you. Joel doesn’t complain, groaning as you tug on his locks in encouragement, in fucking desperation.

Your thighs tremble where they bracket his head, threatening to squeeze around him at any moment if it weren’t for his vice grip keeping your spread apart. A choked sob of a moan claws its way out of your throat and then he’s standing again, chest against your back as you hear the clink of his belt coming undone, and he’s saying, I know, I know, you need it so bad, don’t you?

Your hand skirts around the firm sink and slips between your thighs, fingertips ghosting over your throbbing clit. The sound of foil crinkling echoes around the room, and you hear him exhale a ragged sigh as he rolls the condom down his length. You peek over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of him, eyes widening as you take in the sheer size of his length. It’s long, with a prominent vein running from base to tip. It pulses, raging beneath the skin, practically daring you to drop down and run your tongue along the length of it. And you would if you thought he’d let you.

“Shit,” you breathe, skin tingling with a fresh wave of nerves and anticipation.

“It’s alright,” his voice is a low rasp, filling your ears like molasses, and his hand is rising to push stray hairs out of your face. “So fuckin’ wet f’me, I know you can take it, honey. You gonna show me how good you take co—”

He cuts himself off, eyes narrowing as he spots your fingers shifting between your thighs.

“So impatient,” he smacks your hand away with a grunt. “Silly little slut, can’t wait just a minute for me?”

A broken moan falls from your lips, shameful heat soaring through your chest. You shouldn’t love the way that word sounds falling from his lips, shouldn’t be so turned on by it, but you can feel how the ache in your core intensifies, and so you push your hips back against him.

“’m sorry,” you whine pitifully.

“You want it that bad?” Joel asks. His lips brush your earlobe as he nudges the thick head of his cock between your folds, gliding it through your slick once, twice, before notching himself at your entrance.

“I want it,” you gasp. “Wanted it from the second I saw you, Joel, please, pleas—”

Joel curses under his breath and loops a hand around your front, pushing the neckline of your shirt down to reveal your left breast. He slips his palm underneath the cup of your bra, long fingers pinching at the peaked bud of your nipple. Your skin burns under the attention, and you push your chest further into his hold.

“Shit,” he grunts, beginning to press himself inside. “I wanna fuckin’—wreck you, sweetheart.”

“Whatever you want,” you’re pleading, arching your back for him. Your fingers tighten around porcelain, bracing yourself. “Give it to me.”

You hear a muted, dark chuckle before Joel says, “Whatever I want, huh?”

And then he’s pressing inside you with a single, harsh thrust. His thighs come flush with yours and you gasp, face twisting at the sharp sting. The weight of him inside you is heavy, and you squirm at the intrusion, shifting on your feet. He allows you a moment—just a moment—to adjust to him, before he’s moving.

Joel finds a pace he likes and sets it. Heavy, unrelenting, expert rolls of his hips that have his tip brushing against the opening of your cervix with every shift forward. The air fills with harsh sounds of skin smacking against skin, and stilted moans and spilling from your lips as your hipbones collide rhythmically with the sink.

“Christ,” he spits, hand leaving your breast to grip your jaw. He forces your face forward, pace never slowing. “Fuckin’ look at you.”

You do as your told, gazing at yourself in the mirror. And you look wrecked. Hair a wild halo around your head, makeup smudged around your eyes and mouth, lips swollen and shiny with spit.

“Bein’ so—fuckin’—good,” he punctuates the words with his thrusts. His thumb digs into your cheek, and you can see him grinning in the mirror, lips peeled back to reveal that fucking perfect smile. “Dirty little thing, lettin’ a stranger fuck you like this.”

You mewl in response, stomach tensing as his cock grazes a particularly sensitive spot within you. Joel notices and seizes your waist, one hand holding you in place and the other falling to rub your clit while he pistons into you from behind.

“Shit,” you cry, eyes pinching shut as the intense medley of pleasure and pain begins to overwhelm you. Your orgasm claws its way up your chest.

“Yeah, you like that, huh?” he’s panting. “Can you feel you squeezin’ me, sweetheart. Go on, give it t’me, show me how wet that pretty pussy gets when you come.”

“Oh, fuck, oh—oh god, Joel.”

Your lungs feel empty, chest on fire as you rake in rapid breaths. Your entire body is constricting, muscles in your stomach drawn tight as you press firmer against the sink, thighs shaking with every impact of his hips against the plush of your ass. The pressure makes your head spin. And then something in the base of your spine snaps, and you’re falling apart in his grasp. Joel curses behind you, but the sound is faint, almost inaudible over the ringing in your ears. Your vision goes white, body shifting forward as he fucks you through the high.

And even as you begin to come down, muscles going lax and body slumping against the sink, Joel is relentless. He uses you; gripping your hips to keep them tilted at the perfect angle, and just fucking wrecks you, exactly like he said he wanted to. A stream of profanities fill the air as his movements become disjointed, and you know he’s close. Can feel the way his cock twitches inside you, desperate for release. You tilt your face to the side and stare at him over your shoulder. Those dark eyes meet yours and his face crumbles, hand reaching to grip your shoulder and hold you down as he nears the precipice. You rut your ass back against him and he almost shouts.

“Fuck,” he growls. “That’s it, that’s it..”

And then he’s coming, cock jerking inside you in sporadic movements, and you’re wishing he hadn’t worn a condom so you could feel the heat of him spread inside your cunt. It’s intense, the yearning you feel to have him dripping out of you once he’s gone. But you settle for watching his face through bleary eyes, admiring the way his lips part and chin tilts towards the ceiling, eyes pinching closed as his body convulses against you.

For an all too brief moment, Joel doesn’t move. He slumps against your back, forehead resting in the gap between your shoulder blades, and just breathes. Haggard, drawn out exhales that send whisps of your hair flying forward into your face but you don’t care, too blissed out and relaxed underneath his weight to say anything. And then he’s straightening, and you gasp in unison as he grips your waist and slips out of you. There’s a determined ache between your thighs, pussy clenching around his absence, missing the weight of him already.

You sag onto the cold surface. Your mind is a blur, senses dulled from the intensity of your orgasm. The music in the bar has increased, and you imagine that your roommates must be wondering where you are, but can’t bring yourself to care all that much. You can hear him throw the condom into the trash, then there’s a low rustling as he drags his boxers and jeans back up his legs. Body trembling, you close your eyes and wait. Wait to hear the door open and close as he steps out, and leaves you in the bathroom alone, as you know he inevitably will.

But instead, you feel those hands, almost familiar now, grazing your back. They drag your panties back up and smooth your rumpled skirt down over your ass.

“Hey,” a soothing voice murmurs. “You good?”

You peer at him over your shoulder, uncontained surprise no doubt evident in your face. Joel’s expression is soft; cautious. He grips your shoulder and pulls you up, straightening your body. Drags a thumb over the corner of your mouth, wiping away the lipstick smudged there. His touches are so gentle, so tender, in comparison to a few moments ago. It almost gives you whiplash, and yet you find yourself melting under his gaze, because fuck, he’s handsome.

“I’m good,” you breathe, and he bares his teeth in a smile, cupping your jaw.

“Sweet girl,” Joel says. His head shakes once, slowly, eyes darting across your features, as if trying to memorise them. “I’m gonna remember this.”

You heart is in your throat all over again.

Your fingers fumble to adjust your top, smoothing it out as you smile, humming, “Yeah… yeah, I think I will too.”

A heady silence swells between you. His thumb brushes along your lower lip again, eyes watching the way your swollen mouth yields to his touch. The tip of your tongue slides out and glides over the tip of his digit, just for a second.

“Probably got your friends all worried,” Joel says then, hand dropping to his side. “Must be wonderin’ where you got to.”

You swallow down the disappointment you feel. It burns its way down your throat and into your stomach, not unlike the whiskey had. I don’t care, you want to say. Take me home with you. But you nod and agree. Glance in the mirror and rake numb fingers through bird’s nest hair, trying to tame your wild appearance. You swear you feel his hand graze the hem of your skirt one last time, playing with the soft material while he stares at you in the mirror.

The bubble pops as he unlocks the door, outside sounds rushing in through the gap, infiltrating the space that once smelt like sex and lust and now just feels like any other room. Joel doesn’t kiss you again. Doesn’t touch you. He steps into the hall, and you follow him out. And when he trails toward one side of the bar, with a final lingering glance at you over his shoulder, you begrudgingly head in the opposite direction to the booth, where your almost strangers await you with curious eyes and pinched brows.

Tuesday.

You feel hungover on the day of your first lecture.

A dull ache blossoms behind your left eye, a persistent reminder of how little sleep you had the night before. Your fingers wrap tightly around a tall styrofoam cup, and you take slow mouthfuls of the black coffee inside, attempting to savour the liquid gold, and letting the caffeine act as a saving grace for as long as possible.

You were normally so much better than this, too. Years had passed since your undergrad, and in the past you’d prided yourself on being punctual and prepared. But apparently one of the professors for this semester had it out for you, because when the required weekly prep work for your 9 o’clock Tuesday morning lecture was released the day prior, you were stunned to find that it included an entire fucking book.

After spending a dutiful two hours going over the weekly notes and required journal articles, you’d found yourself glaring at three sentences, written casually at the bottom of the professor’s notes.

Also, read Hesiod’s ‘Theogony’. It will do you well to have these ideas and themes fresh as you undertake the first weeks of this class. See you tomorrow.

Cue you staying up until two am reading fucking Theogony, and walking to your first lecture with a near-permanent yawn sprawled across your face.

As you approach history commons, a guy wearing a bottle green shirt that reads UNIVERSITY OF NEW ENGLAND in garish gold lettering shakes a pamphlet in your direction. It has a picture of a girl in a tiny athletic uniform on the front, preparing to spike a volleyball. You avoid eye contact and sidestep him quickly, continuing into the building.

The theatre room is easy enough to find.

Thirty odd chairs line the space on an incline, all facing toward a desk at the front of the room. A projector hangs from the ceiling, displaying the beginning of a slide show on a white wall. The slide is a muted beige colour, with stark black lettering that spells out: The Language and Literature of the Odyssey and the Aeneid.

Your professor stands with his back to the room, shuffling through a myriad of notebooks and loose-leaf pages splayed across the desk. Standard.

You traipse your way up the stairs, buoyed along by the steady stream of other students shuffling into the room, and take a seat a few rows from the front. Not too far back that you seem disinterested, and not so close that your professor will notice you falling asleep on the first day.

You open your notes on your laptop and then slump back into your chair, slurping down the final morsels of coffee in your cup before discarding it to the floor by your feet. And then the room quietens as a final group of students file in, heavy door swinging closed behind them, and you allow your eyes to rest upon the man at the foot of the space.

He’s tall. It’s impossible not to notice that first. Tall and broad. A thin white dress shirt stretches across the arch of his back, fighting to pull free from where it’s tucked neatly into the waist of his brown pants. From where you’re seated, you can see a dark head of hair shaking side to side every few moments, the man muttering inaudibly as he peers down at his notes.

You glance down at your laptop again. Watch your cursor blink against the white screen. And then you hear it.

“Alright folks,” an all too familiar voice drawls. “Let’s get down to it.”

You stiffen in your chair. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, palms going damp as a memory flits through your brain. One of your own voice.

An accent like that is hard to ignore.

You can’t make out what he’s saying anymore, every word overpowered by the sudden roar of your own heartbeat in your ears.

Slowly—so fucking slowly—you peel your eyes away from your laptop and glance upward.

And there he is, in all his glory. Pearly white smile. Strong jaw. Dark eyes.

Joel… your professor.

Fuck.

thank you for reading!! x

#my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #professor!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #ALP

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indecisivemuch · 1 month

Text

The Pact

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: Seeing you yearn for a relationship and dejected over the lack of one, Luke Castellan proposes a dating pact. Little did you know, he was going to do more than just wait until the day the pact could happen (friends-to-lovers, fluff, pining, a lot of longing, lowkey jealous luke).

Note: Sort of inspired by Monica and Chandler's pact thing from Friends.

Word count: 3.4k

You were spending some time alone near the lake, trying to enjoy mid summer sunlight as well as the silence from the lack of campers and couples around. For some strange reason, the number of people dating at least tripled in the last three weeks. If you were honest, the sight of happy couples was starting to irritate you.

Your eyes glided through the lines in the novel you were reading, though you could barely get past a few pages before a degree of bitterness seeped through. You set the book down and sighed. Your head leaned against the tree behind you while shutting your eyes and furrowing your eyebrows.

Oh, if only someone could love you the same way love was portrayed in books.

Before the scowl could grow permanent on your face, you felt light finger tips setting on the crease between your eyebrows. Instead of getting scared, you remained calm. You knew immediately who it was because there was only one person who would do that. The person sat down next to you and you turned to see them already smiling at you.

To most, Luke Castellan was just the Hermes cabin counselor and best swordsman. But to you, he was a close friend and confidante. He has made it a habit to press softly against your scrunched eyebrows to prevent you from scowling further. It was somewhat sweet to you.

“What’s got you so bothered?” Luke asked, peering at you while tilting his head in a boyish manner. The look alone somehow made you blush. There was no denying that Luke was cute. You knew at least a handful of people at camp who would agree. It honestly surprised you that he was still single. Though you were somewhat relieved at that. For about a year now, you have had a little crush on the Hermes cabin counselor. It was not hard falling for his kind words and sweet actions.

“This is going to sound so stupid…” You let out a deep sigh.

“Oh, come on, since when have I judged you for being stupid?”

“Oh, so you do admit I’m stupid sometimes?”

“Yes, but is that really a problem, considering I find it endearing?” You hope he did not see the way your face heated up at his words.

Little did you know, Luke did notice it, just like he has always noticed little details about you. Knowing he was the reason behind your pink-tinted cheeks filled his heart with joy. In fact, throughout the last year, it got to the point where he would grow very bold with his flirty jokes, disguising his feelings in between them. Honestly, he was surprised you had not caught up to the truth yet.

“Okay, well, so many people have gotten together lately, and it’s got me a little bit annoyed.”

“Why?” Luke questioned.

“Because, I want that experience, you know? The teenage love thing. We already have a strange life, fighting creatures and going on quests that could kill us. I just want to at least experience an aspect of a normal teenage life,” you watched him nod and digest your words. “I didn’t want it, want it. But seeing everybody else experiencing it makes me wonder when it will be my turn, you know?” You sighed before adding, “To make matters worse, it seems like nobody is interested in me that way, so…”

Luke almost let out a chuckle of disbelief at your last remark. Oh, many Demigods found you cute. But if only you knew to look right under your nose. He has always been here. If only you could see him how he wanted you to and give him a chance.

Ever since the day Luke Castellan met you, he became a dreamer. During the night, every dream would be of you, while in the morning, he’d daydream of you until he would see you next. You filled in every thought, walking in his mind like it was your home. But even if it wasn’t your place, he’d still give you the keys without hesitation.

“So…you just want to experience teenage love?”

“Well, that, and ideally, to be loved too. I don’t just want some casual teenage love, but at the same time, I’m tired of waiting around.”

A lightbulb practically lit up inside Luke’s head as an idea popped up. The logical part of his mind was yelling that this was a bad idea, though the more chaotic side was pushing him to just give it a shot. Though, he spent little time contemplating.

“What if we make a pact? By the end of summer - so maybe in about a month - if you haven’t started dating anybody…let’s date each other,” Luke blurted out before his mind could talk him into backing out. It was stupid, and he knew it. But if that was one way to potentially date you, then so be it.

Luke’s heart squeezed when he saw you completely frozen. He started panicking. Maybe he made it too obvious, and perhaps you didn’t like him in that way and were trying to find a way to back out.

“I mean—just so the both of us could experience teenage love, you know? I think it will be great. We already get along well. We’re good friends. What could go wrong?” Luke tried in a more casual voice.

A lot could go wrong — you thought. A possible thing that could go wrong is that you would fall harder for Luke, and that feeling would absolutely destroy you when you two break up because he finally becomes genuinely interested in another girl. Or, it has you so hung up that you would confess to him, only for him to say that whatever you two had was just a pact. But Gods, your heart must actually be a fool to whisper to your brain, ‘I mean…at least you would no longer have to imagine how it would feel like to be his.’

“Sure,” you said before you could think twice about it. “Deal,” you grabbed his hand and shook it.

“Deal.”

Now…Luke just needed to do a couple more things in the meantime.

During the first week, you asked Clarisse to set you up with somebody. She introduced you to one of her friends, Dean. However, when you mentioned Dean to Luke, he clicked his tongue before warning you.

“I just think you deserve better, Y/N. I’ve known him for five years and have never seen him bring one person on a date twice. Last week alone, he went on a date with five people.” Since then, you haven’t spoken to Dean again, deciding that you don’t want to try and date a playboy.

Two weeks later, you asked this guy on a date. He came to the picnic you had set up with a bouquet of flowers. However, your smile faltered slightly when you realized they were the type of flowers you disliked. You shook the negative thoughts away. After all, it’s the effort that counts.

Things quickly went downhill as the guy started sneezing…a lot. His eyes were watering, and it seemed like he was borderline getting sick. You noticed him trying to stop sneezing. You could feel the guy trying—you really did. But the last straw broke when he turned away to sneeze mid-sentence but didn’t do it fast enough.

Three days before the day that marked the day the pact would be able to begin, you attended a party hosted by the Hermes cabin. You were honestly done with trying to find someone to date. Perhaps, this pact thing was not such a bad idea after all, even if Luke might not like you as much as you like him. But at least you knew he would treat you well.

However, your numbers must have turned because somebody had walked up to you and struck up a conversation. With similar humor, your jokes bounced off each other’s, and you almost started crying from laughing at one point.

The sound of your laughter caught the attention of the Hermes cabin counselor. Luke could feel his lips slowly curling up into a smile at the sound of your giggles and laughter. He has always found the sound so endearing.

However, when he turned his gaze over at you, his eyebrows scrunched at the sight of you conversing with another Hermes boy — Oscar, who was also one of his friends. Luke was no longer paying attention to the conversation in his circle right now. His ears were busy trying to make out what that boy was saying to make you laugh like that. However, he almost left his friends when you touched Oscar’s arm while giggling at another one of his jokes.

You always tend to physically react to Luke’s jokes, from small touches while laughing to you playfully slapping his arm at his cheekier jokes. They never fail to make the tip of his ears grow red while his cheeks match the same color. Though Luke swore he had never seen you this way with anybody else. Hence, he was less than enthusiastic at the sight of you doing the same with another guy right now.

You continued talking to Oscar, but your conversation stopped when somebody bumped into Oscar and spilled their drink onto him.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to trip…” the guy who bumped into Oscar apologized.

“Chris, it’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Oscar said, though a sigh quickly followed his words. “I’ll just go and wash the drink off, but I’ll talk to you in a bit, though?” Oscar looked at you. He smiled when you gave him a sweet nod.

“Sorry again, man,” Chris said before watching Oscar exit the cabin. He turned to you now. “So, how are you? Are you enjoying the party?” You answered Chris and started catching up with him. You and Chris met through Luke, though as the years went on you two became friends as well.

With your focus now on Chris, you did not notice the figure of the Hermes cabin counselor zooming past you two and outside, following a certain someone. However, your conversation with Chris didn’t last long because Clarisse swooped in and borrowed you from Chris.

“So, I saw you talking to Oscar. Give me the details,” she said, dragging you down to sit beside her.

“He’s great! It’s so easy to talk to him and be around him.”

“Easier than with Luke?” you gave her a warning glare. You might have told her about your little crush on Luke, though you confessed that to her out of the belief that nothing would ever happen and that it would pass soon. Fast-forward to a year later, your feelings have not changed.

“...No, but—”

“I’m telling you, Luke’s the best one for you.”

“He doesn’t like me like that.”

“If he doesn’t like you like that, he would have never made that pact with you." When you didn’t reply to her, Clarisse decided to bring something else up. “Alright, let’s move on and talk about something else then…another candidate. Dean told me you didn’t show up.”

“Show up to what?”

“He wrote you a note asking you to meet him?” the look on your face must have told Clarisse you had no idea what she was talking about. “He wanted to ask you out on a date in person after that talk you two had three weeks ago.”

“Where did he leave the note?”

“Apparently, he was planning to get me to give it to you, but he passed Luke on his way to me, who offered to give it to you.”

“Well, I never got the note. I guess it doesn’t matter anyway. Luke told me he’s quite a player.” Clarisse pondered on the information you just provided her. Dean was in no way a player. She knew he has only been on one date with another person at camp. However, the puzzle pieces quickly clicked for Clarisse and she leaned back with a smirk.

Before you could question the look on Clarisse's face, Oscar came back to the party.

“Well, if you don't mind, Oscar is back and I have a good feeling about him. So I'm going to go and talk to him,” you left Clarisse, walking in the direction Oscar did. Meanwhile, Clarisse only silently chuckled. She knew exactly what Luke was up to and it made her shook her head in amusement.

“Hey,” you touched Oscar’s arm, though the cheery grin on your face fell when he slightly flinched and shrugged your hand off. “Uhm, it’s good you got that stain off your shirt,” your eyebrows furrowed when you realized Oscar was not even making eye contact with you.

“So, tell me more about that quest you went on last year?” you asked, hoping to start a conversation again. However, Oscar quickly broke out the truth.

“Listen, you seem very lovely, but I don’t want to put myself in the middle of anything. I don’t want to cause any drama.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not the type of guy to steal girls my friends are talking to or having a thing with,” you scrunch your eyebrow in confusion. Just as you were going to question what Oscar was referring to, his eyes betrayed him and looked at someone. You followed his eyesight only to see Luke already looking at you while glancing between you and Oscar. Though realizing he had been caught, Luke looked away and back to his friends.

That was when everything made sense.

“Uh oh…” Chris’s voice snapped Luke from whatever his friends were saying. He followed his gaze to where Chris was looking, only to see you storming over.

“We need to talk,” Luke tried not to think too much about the way your hand felt on his wrist as you pulled him through the crowd and outside. As always, he blindly followed you to wherever you were taking him.

You released Luke from your grip and stood with hands on your hips. You took a deep breath.

“Are you kidding me? Have you been sabotaging me? You told me Dean plays around, but apparently he doesn’t. He also gave you a note to give to me, but you never did it. Then, Oscar, who I was getting along with, came back acting weird, wouldn’t even look me in the eye, and then told me we have a thing going on?”

Oh, Gods, you found out about what he has been doing.

“Listen…” Luke started off while rubbing his neck, though he was unsure what to say next because he was indeed guilty of every accusation you were throwing towards him. But how was he meant to trust fate that you would still be single by the time the pact would be able to come true?

So, he intervened in his own way. That included throwing away Dean’s note, having Chris spill a drink on Oscar to get the boy away from you so Luke could have a talk with him. He might have also suggested your date two weeks ago to get you flowers, despite knowing that the boy was allergic to flowers.

All he wanted to do was to make sure the pact could happen.

“Luke…why? You know I wanted this. I wanted to experience things and date someone.” You weren’t mad, but you were slightly disappointed and confused. You didn’t understand Luke’s intentions behind his actions.

However, Luke misinterpreted the look on your face. He thought you were genuinely upset, and that alone pinched Luke’s heart. He gulped at the idea that he might have disappointed you or made you sad. Screw waiting until the pact happens before confessing. What use would that be when you might somehow start hating him?

“...Maybe I wanted it to be me,” Luke confessed, watching your eyes widen. “You told me you wanted to experience teenage love and feel loved, and you’re tired of waiting until it’s your turn. But I have never told you what I want.” Luke took a step closer to you before starting.

“I want to be the one to take you on dates and give you your favorite flowers every single time. I want to be your personal hype man and be your shoulder to cry on if you ever need one. I want to sit with you by the lake while you read. I also want to read the books you read and those little annotations you make. I want to learn about the things you love and the things you don’t. I want to do things you love. I want to show and tell you just how amazing you are every single day. I want to let the feelings I have right now grow cause I really like the idea of loving you, and I want to get there someday.”

You stood there shell-shocked. This felt almost surreal, like something you read from one of your novels. You have always wished to have someone who practically walked out of a romance novel.

“I want you.”

And here he was, standing in front of you, begging for a chance to be yours.

“And I know you just want teenage love, and I could offer you that. But just know I’m also offering so much more, even if you don’t treat the pact the same way as I do and will only view it as a casual relationship. But I suggested that pact and chased all those guys away because I like you a lot, Y/N. And in hindsight, it was stupid and selfish. But I did it because I felt like it was the only way I could have you.”

“I like you too, Luke,” the words slipped out so easily like they were always meant to be said. “I want you to be my teenage love. I want you too.” You’ve been walking around asking when it would be your turn. If only you had paid attention and looked closer instead, you might have noticed he felt the same way. You wanted everything he has spoken of and be just the same for him — to be there for him and learn to love the things he does.

“And I look forward to every single one of the things you’ve told me, and be the same for you. I really can’t wait for it. However, there is one thing I really want right now,” you said as you walked closer to him, one hand taking his own into yours.

“What?” Luke rasped out, looking so tentatively at you. Gods, whatever wish that spills from your lips this second will have him scour the world for it—whatever guarantees your happiness.

“I want you to kiss me.”

Oh, you could ask him for a thousand kisses, and he would give you a million.

Luke’s cheeks grew rosy at your request. He stepped closer, tucking your hair behind your ear without breaking eye contact.

“Can I?” He whispered in a honey-like tone, and you knew right then that if he kept talking to you in that voice, you’d do absolutely anything he asked.

“Mhm,” your quiet hum granted Luke permission to his next addiction. Without hesitation, Luke attached your lips together with both hands caressing your face tenderly. In return, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled you both closer until your bodies were flushed against one another. Slowly but surely, you also tangled your fingers in his curls. Luke almost immediately melted against your touch, sighing in contentment against the kiss.

Luke was convinced this was now his new favorite thing to do. He wondered if you could taste it through the kiss—his feelings and borderline infatuation for you. Either way, he intended on making every kiss like this: wholeheartedly and as if it would be your last.

Now, if you were to ask Luke Castellan how to get the person of your dreams, here’s what he’d advise you:

Step 1. Be stupid and propose a dating pact (tick).

Step 2. Chase away every other potential candidate (tick).

Step 3. Confess (tick).

Step 4. Fulfill all those promises you have made about loving the person (To be continued...But, he’s intending to do this for as long as you’ll let him).

-------------------------

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thetriumphantpanda · 2 months

Text

new perspective | joel miller

Summary | the summed wedged between finishing your undergraduate degree and starting on your graduate programme just got a lot better when Joel Miller turns out to feel exactly the same about you as you do to him.

Pairing | dbf!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 3.7k

Warnings | Explicit Smut. dbf!Joel makes his return on my blog, mentions of food and alcohol, Joel being competent and fixing stuff, the classic dbf trop of a cookout, sex while your parents are around, oral sex (f), masturbation (m), unprotected PiV, talk of contraception, dirty talk, praise kink, THE RETURN OF MIRROR SEX BY THETRIUMPHANTPANDA, no outbreak au, no use of Y/N.

Authors Note | I missed dad's best friend Joel so I wrote him :) I hope you like him. This is a standalone but I won't rule out adding more in this universe if y'all like it. I have to shoutout @hellishjoel for talking me through how to make a moodboard so beautifully, thank you honey! If you like this, consider reblogging/commenting/leaving asks for me - it really helps!

Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for my writing updates.

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

The incessant dripping of the kitchen tap is driving you insane. You’d come back to Texas for the summer to relax. Hoping to leave behind shoddy workmanship that your landlord refused to fix because he would do it when you moved out, ready for the next lot of college kids to come in. If your dad had mentioned the dripping kitchen tap, the creaky floorboards on the stairs and the issue with water pressure that meant showering took longer than necessary, maybe you’d have stayed where you were.

“Someone’s comin’ to take a look at that later,” He’d said on his way out to work that morning, head tilting towards the kitchen, “Should be here after lunch.”

You’d waved him off, barely looking up from the book you were reading, legs outstretched on the couch with your notepad and pen resting on the arm. Wasn’t much of a summer when you were going straight from your undergraduate degree into a graduate programme.

As the day moved on, the heat got worse. Glasses of ice water turning lukewarm before you had a chance to cool down. The patio door open, hoping for a breeze every now and then, but finding no reprieve. The ice pop doesn’t even help that much, melting too quickly before you had a chance to enjoy it.

It’s pushing 2pm when there’s a knock at the door. Reading material and notepad pushed onto the floor, trash TV on in the background as you try not to sweat to death. It takes you a minute to register the noise, so long that whoever it is here to look at the tap knocks again.

You pull open the door, wincing when the heat of the sun being let in sinks across your skin. The change in light means it’s a few seconds before your eyes adjust to who it is standing in front of you. Joel Miller.

It’s been a while since you’ve seen him. He’s been busy, according to your dad, building his business with Tommy. Lots of out of town trips now Sarah is grown and away to college for her first year - schedules not quite lining up for you to see him when you come home, but God are you glad you have the chance now. He’s older now, obviously, greying a little. His hair has grown too, curls flopping onto his forehead and around his ears. He looks broader now than he did - the physical labour obviously working in his favour - you can see the arms of his t-shirt straining around the muscles there, but as you let your eyes trail down a little, you’re pleased to see that he clearly still enjoys his barbecue and beer.

“Y’gonna let me in, sweetheart?” He asks and that Southern drawl hasn’t changed either, low and slow, tickling just the right parts of your brain as they always had.

You’d thought whatever it was that you felt for him was just some silly schoolgirl crush, but the longer he hung around, the older he got, the more you realised he wasn’t something you’d grow out of liking. Not even the fair amount of fooling around at college had helped - boys that had no idea what they were doing, who couldn’t take instruction to save their lives. Whenever they’d leave, you’d lie there, sheets pulled up under you chin, and think, Joel Miller would never leave me like that - wet, wanting and unsatisfied.

“Sorry,” You mumble, taking a side step to let him in, “Here to fix the tap, right?”

“That’s right,” He replies, walking in and straight to the kitchen - he spends more of his time here than you do now, “Nice t’see you back for a while.”

You close the door, stopping off to lean over the couch and grab your half-empty water glass before following behind him to the kitchen.

“Weird to be back, honestly,” You muse, pulling a fresh glass out of the cupboard, “Didn’t think this place would ever change much, but it feels different.”

“Probably you that’s changed,” He talks as he opens the toolbox he’s bought with him, “Got a different perspective on things now you live in the big city.”

“You’re probably right,” You agree, filling the glasses with ice and water, sipping from one and putting the other near to where Joel is working, “And the fact no-one else left I suppose - did you know Becca from my year at school has had two kids since I’ve been away?”

Joel let’s out a low whistle as he uses some tool to tighten something on the tap, sighing when it doesn’t stop the leaking, “Two kids at your age?” He asks, “I could barely deal with Sarah, I don’t know how folks do it.”

“Yeah, me neither,” You shrug, leaning against the kitchen counter, “I can barely keep myself alive.”

He turns his head, his brown eyes roving you up and down, is he…? Is he checking you out? He lets out a little cough and reaches for his water, taking two deep drinks of it before he turns back to the job at hand, sinking to his knees on the floor to open the cupboard under the sink. He’s got his head inside it when he speaks again.

“I don’t know,” He muses, “You look pretty alive to me.”

“Thanks,” you chuckle, “Best compliment I’ve ever received.”

You can hear him laugh a little from under the sink, the noise punctuated with the sounds of him gently hammering at something.

“Can you pass me the screwdriver down?” He asks, an arm extending out towards you as you rifle through his toolbox, setting the tool in his hand when you find it.

It doesn’t take him much longer to fix whatever was wrong, the dripping from the faucet stopping, giving you the sweet relief of silence, save for him groaning as he stands from his knees.

“Maybe time to retire, old man?” You offer with a smirk as he shoves the tools back into the box.

“Careful,” He warns, but his voice is light and you know he’s teasing, “I’m in the prime of my life.”

“Whatever you say.”

“I’m all done,” He says a few moments later once he’s cleaned up, “Tell your dad I’ll be back sometime in the week to look at the shower.”

You follow him back to the door, like a lost puppy on his heel, wanting to spend as much time as possible in his company before he leaves.

“Thanks for coming,” You say when he opens the door, “The dripping was driving me wild.”

“No problem sweetheart, my pleasure,” He smiles, “Anythin’ else you let your dad know he can call me, okay?” You nod in response, about to close the door, “It’s real good to see you again.”

“You too, Joel.”

It’s been just over a week since Joel had fixed the tap. He’d been back and forth to tinker with the other issues throughout the house, talking to you here and there, but tonight is the first time he’ll be here without the pretence of needing to fix something. It’s always the same in Southern households in the summer - each household in a group of friends taking turns to host some form of dinner for everyone else, eating together in the name of community.

There’s a table full of food - your mother had made enough side dishes to feed the five thousand, potato salad, fresh bread and enough green salad that you’d all be eating it for days afterwards. The fridge stocked full of beer and wine and the crowning glory of a cheesecake you’d slaved over for hours yesterday.

Joel is here, along with Tommy, and your neighbours on both sides too. Your mom and dad had invited friends from work, but just like you’d expected, none of your friends from before you left were able to make it - prior commitments of children, husbands and work.

It’s a low-key affair, a table full of grilled meat and sides and plenty of alcohol, but it’s the alcohol that’s made this difficult for you. With Joel sitting right next you, smelling of cologne and entirely unaware that you’re creaming in your panties about wanting him to fuck you.

You’d not been subtle today either - picking the shortest dress you own, bending over to pick something up in front of him, laughing at his jokes and pressing against him at the table whenever he says something interesting or funny - you want him to know that you want him, you want him to know that he’s all you’ve been able to think about since he showed up on the porch last week.

And you think he does. When you rest a hand on his knee under the table after a particularly funny story about his apprentice and a drill on the worksite, he gives you a pointed look, but doesn’t brush your hand away, and when you announce to the table that you need to use the bathroom and cool down a little, you’re halfway up the stairs when you hear his footsteps following you - almost hunting you into the bathroom and closing the door.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doin’, sugar.”

Got him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Joel.” You smirk, turning around to lean against the sink as the bathroom door closes with a snick.

“Though you were a smart city girl now,” He muses, leaning his back against the door - you don’t miss his hand turning the lock, “You know exactly what I’m talkin’ about.”

“Maybe you should explain it to me,” You say, looking up at him through your lashes, “I’d hate for us to have crossed wires.”

He shakes his head, but you can see the twitch of his mouth upwards, “Firstly, this little number,” His hand waves at your dress, barely short enough to cover your ass, “And the way you’ve been bendin’ over all night right when I happen to be lookin’, sittin’ right next to me, the way you’re puttin’ your hands on my leg whenever you laugh?” You shrug in response, “Definitely not the sweet girl I remember before you left.”

“Things change,” You offer, “New perspectives and all that.”

“And those new perspectives make you wanna fuck this old man?” He asks, eyebrow raised.

“Is that such a crime?”

“College boys ain’t doin’ it for you?”

“No.” You reply simply, trying to keep your grin from blooming as he starts stepping towards you until you can feel the heat from his body.

He’s looming over you, hands on either side of your body, caging you between his body and the sink. You look up, find his face close to yours and waste no time in pressing up onto your tiptoes to kiss him.

It’s soft. Softer than you’d imagined from him - his mouth moving slowly against your lips as he presses his body flush to yours. You open your mouth against his a little, let your tongue trail over his bottom lip, hands reaching up to grip onto his t-shirt as his tongue meets yours.

You think you could stay like that forever, tasting him, but he pulls away, hands gripping your hips through the material of your dress to turn you around. There’s a brief moment where he presses himself against you, letting you feel the hardening of his cock against your ass, but then he’s gone, dropped to his knees behind you, tearing your panties down your legs to pool at your ankles.

Joel brings his palms to the naked skin of your ass, squeezing before he pulls gently, spreading you open with a low whistle from his mouth.

“Don’t tell me you’re this wet from teasing me, sugar.” He says, leaning forward to press his mouth to the top of your spine.

You’re about to respond when you feel one of his hands drop and then brush against the slick folds of your cunt, all you can do is watch yourself in the mirror as you tip your head forward and wait for what’s coming.

You feel him run his fingers back down before one of them dips lower, dangerously close to your fluttering hole that’s begging to be filled - and he knows it.

“She’s desperate, huh?” He coos behind you, “Practically beggin’ for someone to fill her up, ain’t she?”

“Please, Joel?” You breathe out, looking at yourself in the mirror, “I need it.”

“What do you need?” He asks with a tender squeeze of his other palm to your ass, “Huh? You tell me sugar and I’ll give it to you.”

“Your m-mouth,” You stutter out, “Or your f-fingers, anything Joel, please.”

“Like this?” He asks, and you’re about to ask what he means when you feel the warmth of his tongue lapping at you.

He’s tasting you, lapping at your core where you’re seeping slick just for him, his fingers trailing up, finding that bud of nerves, gently circling as he drinks from you.

“Ohhhhhh,” You sigh out in relief, taking yourself in when you look at your reflection, hair a little mused, skin slick with sweat already, “Just like that.”

You can feel his tongue pressing inside a little as his finger finds a rhythm of short gentle swipes across your clit - he’s got your knees wobbling already, making you flatten your palms on the marble sink to keep yourself upright.

“You gotta be quiet, okay?” He says, pulling his mouth off you to speak, dragging his fingers from your clit, “You make too much noise, I’ll have to stop.”

You hum in agreement, waiting to see what his next move is, which is to sink of of his thick fingers right inside your cunt and to lean forward underneath you enough so his tongue is moving against your clit. You have to bite down on your bottom lip to stop yourself from crying out - if there’s one thing college boys don’t do, it’s this.

You’re not sure how long he stays down there, lapping at your clit and slowly moving that finger inside you, but you know you’d have stayed there all night if you could, teetering just on the edge until he felt like finishing you off.

There’s a whine that leaves your mouth when his lips leave you - the finger that was inside you also gone, but he swaps them again - soaked fingers rubbing at your clit whilst he literally sucks the wet from your cunt, like a man who has gone without water for months. The hand that he’s hand pressed to your ass cheek is gone too - you can hear him fumbling with his belt and the movement of material somewhere along the line too, then, he’s groaning into your cunt.

You turn your head a little, but you can’t see him well enough to confirm what you think he’s doing - lapping at your cunt and circling your clit whilst he’s fisting his own cock.

“Are y-you-” You choke out, trying to keep your moans quiet as you feel the coil tightening in your tummy, “Are you touching yourself?”

Joel’s fingers continues its movement across your clit but his mouth leaves you, “Course I am,” He confesses, “Couldn’t help myself, sugar.”

“Just-” You trail off, a small, quiet moan slipping through the cracks of your resolve, “Put it inside me Joel.”

“Not yet,” He says, “Gotta make you cum first.”

“M’close,” You breathe out, pushing your hips back a little to get him to go back to what he was doing before, “Please Joel, I wanna cum.”

“Go on then, baby,” He coos, tongue back to licking at your wet hole, “You can let go.”

You feel your cunt pull tight and your knees buckle and your teeth bite down onto your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood as his fingers expertly push you over the edge. You can feel your walls clenching around nothing, begging for him to slip himself inside you so you have something to clench around as the hot furl of pleasure drifts like electric across your skin.

“Good girl,” You can hear him murmuring behind you, “So good bein’ so quiet like that.”

You’ve barely got time to recover before he’s standing up and pressing into you from behind, his lips wet and hot across the skin of your shoulder, a trail of wet being left from the drag of his beard where your slick has gathered.

“I don’t have anything on me,” He breathes into your ear, teeth nipping at your earlobe, “You got anything?”

You shake your head, “I’m clean though, I promise,” You speak softly, feeling him press his cock through your folds, “And I’m on the pill.”

He’s dragging his cock back through your folds, letting the head of it nudge slightly at your entrance, “You let anyone else fuck you bare before?” His hot breath asks into your ear.

“N-no,” You confess, “Only you.”

You can feel him press himself forward a little bit, feeding the tip of his cock into your cunt. There’s no doubt he’s big, bigger than you’re used to, but there’s no ache, not even when he pressed his hips further forward until you can feel his skin against yours and he’s buried fully inside you.

“Jesus,” He chokes out, “Fuckin’ Christ you feel good.”

Joel brings a hand up to rest against your throat, but it’s only to guide your eyeline to the mirror in front of you. He’s crowding behind you, hot and heavy against your back as he slowly starts to move, dragging his cock from your cunt and back in, chuckling against the skin of your cheek when you smile and giggle as the tip of him nudges at the very depths of you.

“You look good like this.” He whispers.

“We look good like this.” You counter, struggling to breathe a little as he picks the pace up, hips hitting into the meat of your ass on every thrust.

“We do,” He smiles, dragging himself off you a little to rest his hand on the back of your neck instead, “You like watching yourself get fucked, baby?”

You can’t speak anymore, the angle of his cock brushing against something inside of you which has you struggling to keep yourself quiet, so you just nod your head and let him press you further down into the counter, holding you still with his firm hand on your neck as he really starts to fuck you now.

You’re glad you can hear the music from the garden from here - means your dad has it turned up loud enough that no-one would be able to hear the squelch of your pussy on every thrust or the sound of your skin slapping together as Joel speeds up. It feels too good, you feel too full and you can feel that tightening coil again, feel the clenching of your cunt around his cock.

Looking into the mirror, you can see he’s in a similar state to you, his eyes angled down to watch his cock disappear into the heat of your cunt each time, sweat gathering along his brow. He sounds good too - small grunts on every thrust and a suck of breath whenever you constrict around him.

“One more, baby,” He urges, “Want to feel you cum on my cock, okay?”

He shifts his position a little so he’s fucking up into you - head of his cock pounding against that spot inside you that only you’d been able to find until now. It makes your legs shake and you have to bite down on your fist when he makes you cum again to stop yourself from crying out - tears springing at the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill as he talks you through it, tells you how pretty you look and how good you’re being for him.

“M’gonna cum baby,” He warns from behind you, “Where d’ya want it?”

You have no sense in your head anymore, he’s fucked it from you thoroughly, so you say the first thing that comes to mind - beg him to cum inside you, to fill you up. It’s safe, of course it would be, but you’re glad that somewhere in the haze of it all, he’s got more sense than you, pulling himself out of your cunt at just the last second, resting it against your ass as he spills across the skin of your lower back with a growl of your name on his mouth.

There’s silence as the two of you suck in breath to your lungs, letting your senses come back to you. Joel is quiet as he steps back and pulls his jeans back up to dress himself. He uses some tissue to clean you up, inspecting the hem of your dress for any stains he might have left before he’s dragging your panties back up your legs.

You have a try and fixing your hair, wetting your fingers from the sink to try and tame the flyaways, wondering if he’s going to walk away and leave you, but he doesn’t, he just stands behind you and waits for you to finish.

“I hope that was okay?” He offers sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck when you’re done.

“I asked for it,” You smile at him, “It was fine Joel.”

“Only fine?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

You chuckle and slap him playfully on his arm, “Best I've ever had,” You offer, “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” He chuckles, moving to unlock the bathroom door before he turns back to you, “We don’t tell anyone about this, okay?”

You make a sign of a cross above your heart, “Not a soul.”

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corroded-hellfire · 18 days

Note

I've got this image in my head of very pregnant!AYW reader sitting outside with her feet in a kiddie pool, letting the older boys splash around and keep her cool on a hot day. Maybe a cooler full of frozen treats at her side.

I have had this one in my ask box forever because I wanted to write something I’d be happy with and I think I’m there lol. I hope it makes you happy as well 😘

Words: 1.4k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Of course. The August that you’re seven months pregnant is the hottest summer Hawkins has had in over fifty years. Of course.

Eddie could see how the heat was getting to you. Sweat would dot your forehead just moments after you’d step outside. Your ankles had swollen to almost double the size. It hadn’t escaped anyone’s notice that you were a little more irritable than usual as well. But your husband wasn’t sure what he could do to comfort you. Usually, his way of comforting you included wrapping you up in his arms but the one time he’d attempted to do that you’d given him a death glare that blazed hotter than the weather. He’d learned his lesson after that: no touching when the temperature is above a hundred degrees.

One early Saturday afternoon, you and Luke are eating lunch while Eddie and Ryan run a few errands. Luke had wanted to go too, but ever since you started your third trimester, Eddie didn’t like the idea of leaving you by yourself.

It’s quiet between you and your ten-year-old son when the back door bangs open, making you jump and swivel around in your seat–which was no easy task. Perspiration runs down Eddie’s forehead, Ryan’s own golden brown hair plastered to his forehead from the moisture. Patches of Ryan’s gray shirt are black and clinging to his skin from the sweat. If Eddie’s black Iron Maiden shirt weren’t so dark, you know you’d see the same thing on him. Despite how hot and sweaty they both look, they both have smiles on their faces and Eddie looks quite proud of himself.

“I f’ought oo were goin’ to da store,” you say around a mouth full of pasta salad.

“We did,” Eddie said, breaths labored.

“And we set up a surprise for you!” Ryan adds, his beaming grin stretching from ear to ear.

“And me?” Luke asks optimistically, craning his neck to look over at his father and brother.

“Actually, kind of,” Eddie says with a shrug. “Come on.” Your husband waves the both of you over towards the back door before remembering he should help you up out of the chair–even though you’re capable of doing it yourself.

The boys both run ahead of you as Eddie stays back with your waddling pace. It feels like no sooner than your bare foot hits the grass of the yard than sweat begins to break out along your hairline. You swear you’ll never complain about the winter being too cold again.

“It’s small,” you hear Luke say.

Your eyes catch on the short inflatable kiddie pool set up in the middle of the backyard, two white and blue striped lawn chairs set up beside it, and a large red cooler between them. The garden hose is hanging inside the pool, the green tube writhing like a snake as the water whooshes in to fill the empty space.

“Cause it’s a kiddie pool, duh,” Ryan replies to his brother.

“I thought,” Eddie starts, reaching up to rub your shoulders before catching himself, not wanting to make your discomfort worse, “you could sit out here with your feet in the nice cold water. Might help your ankles, too. And you know these two monkeys are always splashing so you’re bound to get caught in the crossfire.”

“Hey,” Luke protests, but Ryan nudges him with his elbow because they both know that their father is right.

“And…” Eddie takes your hand and gently leads you closer to the chairs, where he opens the cooler that’s nestled between them. Inside there are different flavors of ice pops, ice cream bars, and cold drinks, all enveloped in gallons of ice that have a pleasant chill wafting off them.

Words become trapped in your throat. Your wonderful husband did all of this for you just because he knows how the heat has been making you feel lately. And after you’ve been a pain in the ass. This would’ve made you emotional even if the hormones didn’t beat you to the punch.

“Eddie,” you say, all other speech cut off as your bottom lip begins to wobble.

“Uh oh,” Luke whispers.

“No, could be a good thing,” Ryan mumbles back quietly. He was slightly better at understanding the emotional aspect of hormones than his little brother.

“This is so sweet,” you say, turning to cup your husband’s face in your hands.

“You’ve been hard at work cooking that bun in the oven,” Eddie says with a shrug. “Oven needs some cooling down though, she’s getting overheated.”

“Ahem,” you hear from behind you. Ryan moves into your peripheral vision, and you turn your head to look at him, sliding your hands down to Eddie’s shoulders as you do. The eldest brother is clearly holding something behind his back, and you scrunch up your brow as you look at him.

“Whatcha got?” you ask.

Eddie huffs out a small chuckle and presses a kiss to your temple before saying, “Ryan found something at the store he says is on every ad for the beach.”

“You bought me sand? The ocean?” you tease the boy.

Ryan rolls his eyes, another reminder that he’s a preteen now.

“No,” he says. From behind him, Ryan brandishes a floppy hat, and he is certainly right—a woman is wearing one of those in every ad for the beach.

“Ryan, I love it!” you exclaim with a giggle. The grass crunches beneath your feet as you waddle over the few steps to the boy. He holds the straw hat out to you, a bright grin on his face at your happiness.

“You know,” you say as you accept the hat from him, “I’d bend down so you could put it on my head but then I wouldn’t be able to stand back up.”

“Like crowning a princess!” Luke adds as Ryan laughs.

“Well,” your husband says, coming up behind you, “it’s a good thing I’m taller than Ryan then, huh? Or we could’ve just made Luke help you back up.”

Eddie plucks the hat from your grasp, the straw scratching lightly against your fingertips as he pulls it away. He steps in front of you, and you keep your head level, only raising your eyes to watch Eddie’s pale, toned arms lift to place the floppy hat on top of your head gently.

“Your Highness,” Eddie says, bowing his head. Your giggle makes Eddie grin as he gestures towards the lawn chairs. “Your throne awaits.”

Twenty minutes later it’s as if the summer heat were merely an annoying insect that you’re only somewhat aware of. Even though the chill water of the miniature pool only goes up to midcalf, sloshes of water have hit you all the way up to your neck. The cool beads of moisture feel like heaven as they meander down your red tank top, though. The denim shorts you’re wearing will weigh a ton later since the boys’ splashing has gotten them so wet, but Eddie’s such a pro at taking your clothes off that he could use a little challenge this time.

Luke and Ryan manage to find games to play in the small pool—after Luke’s failed attempt at Marco Polo, anyway. Toy boats glide through the water, a few of them on the grass from flying overboard. The two boys shout but they’re outside and having fun, and it’s nice to hear.

The sound of the back door slamming shut reaches you as you tilt your head back, protected from the sun by Ryan’s thoughtful gift and the sunglasses you grabbed when you got changed. Eyes closed, you listen to footsteps in the grass as Eddie walks your way from the house. They come to a stop and you sense as he crouches down next to you. Lazily, you loll your head to the side and crack your eyes open.

“How’re my girls?” Eddie asks, placing his right hand over the soaked red shirt covering your baby bump.

“Mmm, good,” you hum. “She’s very happy you bought strawberry shortcake bars.”

“I’m glad she liked them,” Eddie says with a chuckle. “What about you, princess? How do you feel?”

You pretend to consider his question for a moment before speaking.

“Kiss me?”

You pucker your lips and there’s no hesitation as your husband leans in and gently presses his own against yours.

“Perfect. Now I’m perfect.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #older!eddie #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #dad!eddie #AYW #AYWS #request

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uluvjay · 3 months

Text

Fall in love with you- T. Zegras

Trevor Zegras x Best friend! Reader (feat. Quinn Hughes)

Summary: you knew Better than to fall in love with Trevor

Warnings?; angst, self-doubt, crying, asshole Trevor, cursing, Quinn comes to the rescue, this is extremely old and hardly proofread so I apologize for any errors!

Next part

—

You were Trevor’s best friend, your moms were best friends in collage leading to the life long friendship of you two.

You two had always been close even when he moved to Michigan for hockey you never drifted. He begged you to come to Boston with him for collage even though he only stayed a year and your had gotten into your dream school.

It was Trevor how could you say no?

That was a problem of yours never being able to tell him no. He wanted to go to a party even though you hated them? You went, wanted you to stay up late with him despite you having a big test the next day? You did it.

You always blamed it on the fact he was your best friend but everyone besides Trevor knew you were lying, they could all see how in love you were with him they just never brought it up.

The first person to call you out on those feelings was Quinn Hughes. Trevor had invited you to the Hughes lake house two summers ago where he constantly left you and was hardly even home most nights, usually with some random girl he met that day.

There had been an argument between you and Trevor, you blew up on him after he came home from another one night stand telling him if you knew you would be spending more time with the Hughes family and their other friends then him you wouldn’t have come in the first place.

He got offended saying he was allowed to have fun to even though that had nothing to do with what you were saying, after he stormed out of the room you were staying in you made the impulse decision to book a flight back to New York, and get the hell out of there but Quinn had caught you packing.

—-

“Hey you okay we heard you two yell- woah what’re you packing for?” He asked stopping himself mid sentence

“Im going home Quinn, thank you for opening your home to me I really appreciate it and you guys have all been so nice spending time with me while Trevor’s off with random girls every night”

“Wait, why are you leaving though? Did Trevor say something? I’ll go kick his ass right now if he hurt your feelings”

“No he didn’t I-I just can’t do this anymore, he begged me to come and of course I said yes like always just for him to pretty much say fuck me and leave me to be with some random girls who probably took pictures of him sleeping so they can post them an-“

“Your in love with him” he said cutting you off

“What? No Quinn, I’m not” you replied with a defensive laugh

“Don’t lie to me”

“Quinn I’m not”

“Cut the bullshit” he told you more stern shutting the door

“I’m not lying”

“Yes you are, I see the way you look at your phone when he lets you know he won’t be coming back, how you stare at the marks on his neck and back, how you stare daggers into all the girls that talk to him, the way your face lights up when he walks into a room, your in love”

“He can’t know Quinn, it’ll ruin everything” you told him looking down at your hands

“Hey, your secrets safe with me, but you can’t do this to yourself forever kid”

And that’s how You and Quinn also became best friends

—-

Fast forward two years and here you are back at the same Lake house in the same predicament. However over last summer you became good friends with most of the guys including Jamie and Mason who came with from Anaheim.

You Graduated from collage in May and got your degree in interior design, tonight Quinn and Jack were hosting you a small graduation dinner as they wasn’t able to attend your graduation along with some of the other guys.

You were standing in the Kitchen with Cole, Quinn, Jack, Trevor and Jamie who had all just come back from a workout.

“So Y/n you gonna come to Montreal and help me make my house look nice? I need some help decorating my shelves they don’t look good” Cole asked

“You can reach your shelves?” Jack asked causing everyone to laugh

“Shut up asshole” Cole replied

“Yeah Coley I’ll come help but I won’t be needing your stepladder I should be good” you said adding in to the joking

“You know what fuck all of you” he said walking off laughing

“Love you!” You called out laughing as well

“When he murders us all in our sleep I won’t be surprised” Quinn said causing everyone to let out light giggles

“Y/n what color you wearing tonight? I don’t wanna clash” Jack asked you

“You act like you won’t be wearing shorts and a random shirt ” you replied “but probably this white dress I bought a little while ago, I’m finally tan enough to wear it”

“You can’t wear white, the girl I invited is” Trevor blurted out looking at his phone

“Dude what the hell? I told you this was a lake house thing only, only the people staying here are allowed at the dinner, no extra invites” Quinn said getting a little pissed

“Aren’t your parents coming? Along with Luke, some of his friends, and y/n’s one friend? Why can’t my friend come”

“That’s our Family Z, they have a relationship with y/n and she knows Luke’s friends from them hanging around they’re like all madly in love with her” Jack said joining in

“Y/n’s fine with it right?” He said giving you the look he always did when he wanted something from you

“I’m not paying, it’s up to Quinn and Jack they organized the dinner” you said looking away

“Yeah so she’s not coming and if she for some reason does show up, she better not be in white, it’s Y/n’s night” Quinn said ending the conversation and walking out everyone else following besides you and Trevor.

“What the hell was that?” Trevor scoffed

“What?”

“You totally taking Quinn’s side!? Are you in a mood with me or something? Why can’t my friend come”

“Because I’m not paying Z, it’s not something i organized Quinn and Jack did, if I had it up to me we’d being having pizza and sitting around a fire not going to a fancy restaurant.” you told him growing a bit annoyed.

“Whatever” he mumbled stomping off.

—

Four hours later everyone was in a private room at some fancy restaurant in Michigan, in all it had ended up being You, The Hughes family, Cole, Mason, Jamie, Trevor, Dylan and Luca.

Trevor hadn’t spoken to you since earlier in the kitchen and hadn’t gotten off his phone since you guys had gotten to the restaurant.

Jamie and Mason had both said something to him multiple times but it just ended with Trevor giving both of them attitude.

You were talking with Ellen about the new things she had planted in their home garden when Trevor stood up and pocketed his phone walking out of the private room.

“Okay can I ask what the hell his problem is?” Ellen had asked loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I didn’t let him invite one of his little hookups and he got mad because Y/n took my side instead of giving in” Quinn explained.

“He hasn’t said a word to me since like noon either” Jack added.

“Okay this isn’t about him and let’s not make it about him, tonight is about Y/n and her achievements” Jim said shutting everyone up just in time as the food was being served.

Ten minutes later the door opened back up and in walked Trevor with a blonde girl.

You froze, was he serious right now? For one night he couldn’t listen and not go off and do what he wanted. You looked around and seen Jamie and Cole both rubbing their foreheads and looked next to you at Quinn who had his head titled back, then to your right to your best friend who looked like she was about to murder both Trevor and the blonde girl.

You returned to eating until you heard someone scoff and a chair scoot out, as you looked up you seen Jamie pulling Trevor out the room, leaving the girl in the room.

“And you are?” Ellen asked causing Luke and Jack to both let out slight laughs at how straightforward their mom was.

“Emma” she replied

“Mm” was all Ellen replied, she also knew about your feelings for Trevor

The door opened back up and in walked a pissed off Jamie which was a rare sight to see, and an annoyed Trevor.

“Everyone this is my girlfriend Emma” he announced and it got so quiet you could hear a pin drop as everyone looked from them to you.

Did everyone know about your feelings? Were you truly that noticeable when it came to how you acted around Trevor?

“Since when?” Mason asked

“Three months” Emma answered

Everyone just stayed quite, the tension could be cut with a knife and the amount of awkwardness was uncomfortable.

“I think it’s time to head home” you whispered in Quinn’s ear

“Yeah, I’ll go grab the check” he said getting up and walking out

“Where’s he going?” Trevor asked

“To get the Check” you replied

“Already? Is that what you whispered in his ear about? I’m not ready to leave you can’t just decide when we all leave Y/n”

“Well I’m ready to head home Trevor and it was my graduation dinner but you of course found a way to make the night about you” you snapped standing up and leaving.

—

Once everyone got home you went straight to your room and got changed into comfortable clothes, went down stairs, made a drink and went outback.

You were feeling a rollercoaster of emotions, you loved Trevor and he constantly hurt you but honestly it was your fault, you were the one that never told him how you feel how’s he supposed to know you wanna be the one in his bed every night?

You were also angry at him, how dare he pull the shit he did tonight at your graduation dinner of all things. You celebrated multiple achievements of his with him and never once made it about you, it just wasn’t fair.

You didn’t even realize someone had come outside or that you were crying until you heard someone ask you something.

“Huh?” You asked as you came back to your surroundings to see Jack sitting next to you.

“I asked why your crying”

“Oh it’s nothing” you rushed out wiping your tears

“Non of that Bullshit what’s up” he asked

“I love Trevor, no I’m in love with him, have been since I was 17”

“I know” he replied nonchalantly

“What?!”

“It’s not hard to notice y/n, your pretty bad at hiding it” he said with a laugh

“You don’t think he noticed do you..”

“No he’s to stupid” he told you laughing again

“Good, I just don’t know what I’d do if he found out I was in love with him, we’ve been best friends since we were born it would ruin everything.”

“You’re in love with me?” You heard the person that shouldn’t be asking that question ask it.

“Shit” you mumbled closing your eyes

“I’m gonna head back inside” Jack said getting up and patting your shoulder

“I asked you a question Y/n, please tell me you’re talking about someone else you’ve been friends with since kids.”Trevor said

“No it’s you, I love you” you said in a low voice

“What the Fuck” he said with a laugh

“I know, I know I’m sorr-“

“Sorry doesn’t cut it Y/n! Do you know what this is going to change? Everything! Our whole lives, every moment we’ve ever shared, it’s all different now”

“I know that’s why I never said anything, I knew you wouldn’t feel the same” you mumbled

“Damn right I don’t feel that way”

“Can you not be rude right now?, you listened in on a conversation you had no business hearing and now you know information that just ruined our friendship, I don’t need you being an ass”

“Why? Why me y/n?”

“I don’t know Trevor! I ask myself that every single day, why you, why my best friend? And I don’t have an answer ” you told him.

“You should have known better”

“It not like I wanted to fall for you Trevor, it’s not like I hoped and wished that I’d fall in love with you and ruin a 22 year long friendship.”

“We need space, I need space y/n I don’t know how to feel about this.” he told you

“I’ll find the next flight to New York tomorrow and be gone” you told him walking past him and into the house.

—

As you were laying in bed you heard someone knock on your door, “come in” you said with a hoarse voice from crying

“Hey I just wanted to check in, Jack told me what happened” Quinn said walking in

“It was so bad Quinny” you said breaking down again.

“No, don’t cry, it’ll be okay y/n” he said sitting next to you and rubbing your back

“I’m leaving tomorrow” you told him

“Why?”

“He said he wants space so I’m gonna go home, I think it’s for the better you know getting away from him”

“Don’t go home, let’s go somewhere”

“Where?” You asked with curiosity

“A beach?”

“That sounds nice”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah” you said looking up at him with a smile

—-

Next part

#nhl #trevor zegras #nhl fanfiction #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #trevor zegras blurb #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras x y/n #trevor zegras x you #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes

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roosterforme · 5 months

Text

The Intern Prologue | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You barely have a minute to yourself after graduating at the top of your Ivy League class before your father insists you find an internship. Your days of lounging by the pool and partying are numbered as he has an endless parade of his colleagues visiting the house. But one of them is familiar to you in a way that warms your skin just like the San Diego sun.

Warnings: Language (eventually 18+)

Length: 1800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

The Intern masterlist. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner by @mak-32

"We need to start talking about your summer internship."

You had been home for less than one full day, and your father was already on his favorite topic of conversation: your future as a business mogul poised to take over his empire.

"Can we talk about it tomorrow, Daddy?" you asked, flashing him your sweetest smile as you yanked your sunglasses down lower on your nose. It was the end of May. You'd just graduated with top grades and a master's degree in business analytics and finance from his Ivy League alma mater. You were doing everything you could to uphold the family name as his only child, but you just wanted one day off before you got fully immersed in his world.

He sighed and glanced between you and the enormous pool behind the house you grew up in just outside San Diego. "Tomorrow morning. We will talk about it at breakfast," he said sternly. But then you watched his features crack into that soft smile he only ever shared with you. "I'm really proud of you, Sweetheart. You'll do big things."

Your annoyance with him melted away. "Thanks, Daddy." Most of your motivation to succeed came from him and his own personal success, but he worked nearly all the time. You would find a way to balance out a summer internship along with hanging by the pool and partying with your friends. You'd spent years perfecting this routine in college so that you graduated first in your class while still devoting your weekends to your sorority sisters and fraternizing with the fraternity boys.

Your father kissed the top of your head, and once he was gone, you rolled onto your belly. You wanted to feel the glorious heat from the California sun on every bit of your skin. While you enjoyed the different seasons on the east coast and the beautiful Ivy League campus, you certainly missed this weather. You were half tempted to untie your bikini top now that you were alone, but your father always had a parade of his colleagues and employees coming through the house to talk shop. And a lot of them were older and ex-military, and your dad would have a fit. You smiled, because that made you want to do it even more.

You spent all morning and most of the afternoon laying out by the pool with a book that wasn't holding your interest and your enormous water cup. You only ventured inside to get lunch where you waved off your father's chef when she tried to make something for you. It was her job, but you were twenty four and far less helpless than your father when it came to most things around the house. You made a sandwich and took it back out to the pool where the groundskeeper was testing the water.

Everyone here was calling you 'Miss' which was already getting on your nerves. Nobody cared who you were when you were strolling through campus at the University of Pennsylvania, because their mommys and daddys were even wealthier and more famous than your dad. They just called you by your first name and let you blend in.

"Miss, the pool chemicals look good," the groundskeeper told you. "Enjoy your swim."

Before he wandered off to work on his next chore, you called out, "Thank you." The funny thing was, your dad never used the pool. All he did was work. He probably only kept it open for the past six years while you were away in Philadelphia just in case you wanted to use it when you were home on breaks.

And that's what had you walking over to the edge and dipping your toes in the water. There was a bit of a chill to it, probably because the sun had warmed you to your bones. Goosebumps ripped along your skin, and your nipples furled softly in your bikini top. You were suddenly very aware of your body as you heard your dad's booming laughter coming from inside the house along with dress shoes on the Calacatta marble floor.

You swirled your toes around again as you turned to look through the open French doors at the group of men and women all in black suits. Most of them were as old as your dad with graying hair and scowling faces that conveyed how little they appreciated having their time wasted. All except for one. He was younger and taller than the rest, and he was the only person you knew by name. You hadn't seen him since you were home in December, but Bradley Bradshaw looked just as good now in his navy blue suit as he had with a glass of champagne and pink cheeks in his silk Fair Isle sweater at your father's holiday party. Maybe even better.

Now that he was a mere fifty feet away from you, it surprised you a bit that you hadn't really thought about him in months. His brown eyes met yours and he took a few steps to separate himself from the group. He shot a crooked little grin your way, and you smiled back before your eyes shifted to the pristine pool water.

That night had been fun, even though your dad insisted you wear a modest forest green dress instead of the black one you brought home from Philadelphia. The champagne and mulled wine made it almost entertaining for you to drift from one of his geriatric colleagues to the next, intentionally asking them almost bizarre questions just to see how they would react. But Bradley had been there, and when you asked him if he'd ever had wine from Domaine Tropez in the south of France, he responded in a deep rumble of a voice saying, "I have a box of wine in my refrigerator that just says White Wine on the side of it. Does that answer your question?"

You couldn't remember the last time someone made you laugh so hard, and he didn't look at you like the spoiled brat you almost enjoyed playing the part of.

"The vineyard sent me a bottle of rouge for my birthday. Want to try it?" you had asked him, feeling a little drunk and silly as he set his empty champagne flute on a passing tray.

"You want to waste it on a guy who drinks boxed wine?" he asked, his voice impossibly deep and his mustache twitching with amusement. "I thought you were supposed to be smart. Your father talks about you all the time."

You had been about to take him by the hand and lead him to the kitchen where you'd stashed the wine so your dad wouldn't drink it, but then Bradley got pulled into a conversation with someone else. But you felt his eyes on you frequently throughout the night. And he did make it a point to say goodbye to you, letting you see those rosy cheeks up close one more time.

Just then you were jolted back to the present as you nearly toppled into the pool. Your father's voice carried outside, inflection full of pride as you heard him say, "My daughter flew back last night. Graduated top of her class with the same degree I earned. Following right in my footsteps, if you can believe it. Higher marks than I ever had."

There was some soft laughter and words of congratulations aimed at him, even though you were the one who had worked so hard. You rolled your eyes and planted both feet on the edge before diving as gracefully as you could into the pool. You swam nearly all the way across underwater, grateful for the bit of silence as you collected your thoughts. The water cooled you without being cold enough that you wanted to get out, and when you surfaced, you took a deep breath.

Everyone seemed to have moved along from the open French doors, probably heading deeper into the house toward your dad's study or his conference room. You swam off toward the pool float that was drifting along in the shallow end, and you pulled yourself gracelessly up onto it. Just as you were fixing your bathing suit, about to settle in for another hour of sunbathing, a shadow crossed your face, and you nearly landed back in the water as you jumped.

"Congratulations."

It was Bradley Bradshaw standing over you with his hands on his narrow hips and his tie loosened in a way that you couldn't stop looking at. You desperately wished you had your sunglasses to help shield your eyes from the bright light as well as the fact that you were on the verge of checking him out.

"Heard you graduated with a splash," he added, smiling as you dipped your foot in the water.

You rolled your eyes and settled back against the raft. "Crazy, isn't it? There's almost nothing you can't accomplish when you set your mind to it and have a billion dollar bankroll behind you, just helping you along the way."

His laughter made you feel warmer than the sunshine. "Are you daring to call yourself privileged?" He kept his eyes on yours, and you were impressed that they weren't straying south.

"Are you daring to say you aren't, Mr. Bradshaw?" you asked him with a smirk. "I didn't know you could buy Armani suits at JCPenney. I guess even an Ivy League valedictorian can learn something new every day."

He rubbed his hand over his lips and mustache to try to hide his amusement, and you wiggled back against the raft with a smile of your own. You weren't sure what possessed you to talk to him like this; he was your father's colleague after all. But you felt validated as he squatted down in his three thousand dollar suit to test the water temperature with his hand, because he shook his head slowly at you and said, "I'm impressed you even know what a JCPenney is. You're a bit of a brat, aren't you?"

Now you were the one trying to hide your smile behind your hand. "Don't get it twisted. I've never actually been to one. But all the prep school kids used to talk about shopping for suits off the rack along with knockoff handbags just to rile up our parents."

You thought you heard him mutter the word brat again as he stood. "Well, as much fun as this has been, I'm not dressed for swimming, so I guess I'll go find the other Armani suits and get back to work instead."

"Shame, that," you replied, clicking your tongue. "Bring your Armani swim trunks next time and stay a while."

Now that he was standing at his full height, his gaze slowly drifted down your body, and his cheeks turned ruddy just like they had after an evening of indulging in champagne last December.

"Maybe I will."

------------------------

Stay tuned for chapter one. We're about to go on an adventure. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 1

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fangisms · 11 months

Text

summertime at the burrow

A/N: i want to be an honorary weasley please im literally begging. notice me molly weasley

Pairings: Best Friend!Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Fred finally invites his best friend home over summer holiday. Neither of you expected it to go so well. 3.7k words.

Warnings: fluff, best friends to lovers, ungodly amount of shenanigans, friendly bullying/teasing, mud wrestling, kissing, (friendly) violence, pet names (trouble, snookums, sugarplum, sweetheart), cursing, borderline frog abuse

"Good morning, trouble."

You hop into the seat next to him that he’d been saving for you. In fact, he’d been saving it for you since the first time you plopped down beside him after the sorting hat declared your house first year. You laughed when he shook your hand. He thought you had the cutest smile. Then you teased him for his devilish charm and he called you catty, and you’ve been teasing each other ever since.

"Are you packed and ready?” He sounds more worried than that time he nearly shattered his collar bone during a vicious Quidditch scrimmage. “We're leaving bright and early tomorrow. Mum says she's preparing a hearty lunch for our guests." Fred scarfs down the rest of his breakfast and turns to look at you to find you're looking back at him in bewilderment.

"Somebody's excited," you tease, ruffling his fiery locks and glancing over at George with a grin.

"If you think this is bad, you should see him before winter holidays," George huffs.

“I have.”

Fred rolls his eyes at you and you jab him in the side.

"Where are the lot of you off to?" Lee perks up from across the table, setting his plate down and wiggling his way between Alicia and Angelina.

"I finally got my honorary invite to the Weasley burrow this summer," you chirp, wrapping your arm over Fred's shoulders and leaning him into your side.

Lee cocks a brow and smirks at a suddenly and uncharacteristically shy Fred. "Well, it's about time! You've only been dating for—"

You shake your head. "No, not dating, Lee. I swear we've been over this—"

"Oh, we've been over it plenty. I just choose to ignore wicked witches when they lie—!"

You practically leap across the table with your teeth gritted to grab for his robes when you're stopped by the laughing twins holding you back from tearing into him. "Lee Jordan, you take that back right now, or so help me your mother will wonder why your hair's gone purple!"

"I'm not going to apologize for being lied to!"

"Let me at him! I'm trying to defend my honor here!"

"Miss—young lady!”—McGonagall appears behind you, sending you into shock and barreling back onto the bench—“Settle down! You're frightening the first years, and we typically prefer they come back in the fall."

"Apologies, professor, I was simply trying to have a friendly discussion with my classmate," you say, gesturing to Lee who smiles begrudgingly.

"Right, well, from now on, let's have our discussions from across the furniture, not on top of it." She wanders away, and you turn to stick your tongue out at Lee who is doubled-over and cackling at your being caught.

“I hope you know, we’re going to receive the same third-degree from my dear mother,” Fred mumbles in your ear. His heart races when you turn to him, a playful glint in your eye. You blink sweetly and rest your hand on his knee when he tucks his arm around your lower back. “But don’t worry, sugarplum, it’s never too late to try.”

He winks. Your eyes go wide, and you shove at his shoulder with a chuckle disguised by a scoff.

“Scabbers not the only rat in the Weasley family, I see.”

“That is exactly what I’m talking about, there’s no way you two are just friends—”

A slice of ham sticks to Lee’s cheek with a cold, wet slap as you eye him from across the table.

“Don’t listen to him, snookums, he just doesn’t understand our complicated arrangement,” Fred says, nudging your cheek with his nose and holding back laughter.

“Gross,” George mutters, grinning before he’s met with the same lunchmeat backhand his friend so rudely received. “Suppose I could’ve predicted that one.”

…

You wipe the sweat from your brow, slinging your carry-on over your shoulder before bending down to pick up your trunk. You’re trailing behind most of the rest of the group, just a few steps behind the twins while their younger siblings charge ahead through the field with Harry and Hermione. Fred checks in with you every couple of meters, making sure you don’t need any serious medical attention.

Once the twins breach the front door, you take a seat outside on your trunk, fanning yourself with your hand and throwing your head back. Then you hear:

“Fred, you better get out there and help that poor girl with her things!”

“Sorry, mum!”

You chuckle when he appears in the doorway moments later, winded as ever, hair plastered to his forehead, and still grinning wildly as he jogs over.

“What’s a lovely young lady like yourself doing outside all alone on such an unbearably hot afternoon?”

“Sweating like swine.”

“Ravishing,” he teases, shooing you off the suitcase, “head inside, mum’s absolutely itching to meet you.”

So you do. You can see her welcoming her children and their friends alike, and it fills you with the warmth of fresh gingerbread and the nerves of a teenage boy during school dance season.

“My dear!” she coos, arms outstretched even though a thin year of sweat coats every inch of your body, even though you’ve been wearing these clothes for a day, and even though you’re breathing heavy like a dog. She’s got her arms outstretched like you’re family.

“I’ve heard so much about you from Fred, and, goodness, you’re even prettier than he said you’d be!” —She gasps when he walks through the door, hauling your trunk in tow—“Don’t tell him I told you.”

“It’s been five minutes and you two are already sharing secrets about me. Only seven more days, Freddie,” he mumbles, setting the trunk down with a thud.

“Oh, well! It’s wonderful to finally meet you, dear, Ginny will show you to your room and lunch will be ready once you’re all settled!”

“Thank you, Mrs Weasley—”

“Oh, none of that, call me Molly.”

Your brows knit when she smiles at you so gently before making her way back to the kitchen.

“Thank you, Molly!”

Fred hops up from where he’d been relaxing on an armchair, clapping you on the arm with a reassuring smile.

“Everything processing alright up there?”

You nod.

“Peachy. Now give me a smile, you’re scaring me.”

You squint at him and pinch his arm, simpering when he hisses and swats your dry-gulching fingers away.

“That’ll do!”

“We’re up this way,” Ginny chirps as she rushes by and tugs you by the hand up the stairs.

Fred watches after you, rubbing his arm with a mean look on his face just before his playful resentment fades and his affections settle into the apples of his cheeks. This is going to be a long seven days.

…

Fred had never invited anyone to stay at the burrow. He preferred the company of his close family and whoever his mother deemed Weasley-enough herself. But he’d been saving this invitation. It stewed in the back of his mind for years before he mustered up the courage to offer it to you.

Ridiculous. That’s how it sounded in his head: ridiculous. If he wanted to ask you, he should have done it at the first chance. That’s what Fred would do. But he could never bring himself to get the words out whenever he swore to himself today would be the day. Because you’d just look at him with those damned doe eyes—you’d test his boundaries and make him all gushy inside—and it was like he was suddenly turned to a tongue-tied and pathetic halfwit.

And now here you are. An unofficial part of his family. But nevertheless a part of it. You’d found the annual Weasley strawberry-picking trip to be wonderful despite Fred pulling cheap pranks on you and the fact that it was basically sweltering outside. When you returned, you all spread out in the family room with bowls of the dewy berries in each of your laps. Everyone claimed a seat while you and Fred were forced to share the hardwood floor. You ended up tossing the small fruits into each other’s mouths with your legs laid across his thighs.

At one point, he lands one of the berries down your blouse. Almost immediately, he starts to laugh, clutching his chest while you gawk at him.

“You better start running, trouble.”

He gulps and scampers to his feet before scurrying out the front door. You take off after him, shouting curses into the wind when he rounds a corner.

You follow his footsteps but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“I swear, if I ever get my hands on you—”

He grabs your waist from behind you, dipping down to whisper in your ear. “You can put your hands on me whenever you’d like, sugarplum—”

“Merlin’s Beard, Fred! You scared the shit out of me!”

You jolt away, and he thinks you look genuinely angry this time. But he smiles and your features soften. Then you’re after him again, bounding into the tall grass with an uproar of laughter.

…

You spend the next few days of your vacation trying to beat Ron at chess then deciding it may be better if you and Harry team up to try and beat Ron at chess. You also take Ginny and Hermione shopping while the gaggle of boys trail behind the three of you grumbling and whining about missing their beloved Quidditch game.

You offer to help Molly with every meal, and she only accepts once you convince her your desserts are a crowd favorite back home. She’s proud to say she’s impressed, and she grows even prouder when you admit you adore big families like hers and see at least two kids of your own in your future.

Arthur takes a liking to you after you listen to him rave about the kind of items muggles use day-to-day and how fascinating their modern technology has become in recent years. He’s thrilled to find you actually take interest in his tinkering and collections and whatnot.

But most of all, you spend your time at the burrow with Fred. He steals you away after meals and keeps you up late to teach you his favorite charms. One overcurious evening finds you two perched together on the bathroom floor whispering and giggling while you brush a bold smokey-eye onto his eyelids. Let’s just say dinner that night was nothing short of hilarious: a look that Fred will never live down.

On the fifth morning, you jostle him awake. He whines about the sun not even being up yet while you drag him down the steps and shove your socked feet into an extra pair of rubber boots.

“What’s the bucket for?” he whispers, traipsing down the path along the side of the house when you stop dead in your tracks.

“Shh!” You press your gloved finger to his lips. A chorus of croaks erupts from the marsh beside the house. Nothing out of the ordinary for Fred, in fact that sound had often soothed him to sleep. But there’s a dangerous glint in your eye that tells him you’re on a mission.

“Can’t we do this when the sun is up? It’s cold and I’m tired—”

“The faster we catch ‘em, the faster we can go back to bed,” you whisper as your boot sinks into the edge of the muddy body of water. He sighs and sinks in next to you with his hands on his hips.

“I can’t believe you’ve convinced me to do this. You’re lucky you’re so pretty or you’d never get away with anything.”

You purse your lips and wade a little further out, looking out at the cooly rippling water beneath the sliver of sunrise.

“Yes, I would,” you say, quietly but so matter-of-fact he’s inclined to believe you.

Just then you spring into action, shoveling a small frog into your bucket with a victorious grunt. A few minutes later, he shuffled over to you and lowers his cupped palms into your bucket: three more frogs settle down into the center with a wet plop. You beam up at him, and it’s worth the early morning trouble to see you so happy and have you so close.

“So what do you plan on doing with these poor creatures once we’re done?”

You sit on the bank of the waterbed, sighing and setting the bucket beside you. He watches you from the water while you examine the small blob of darkness in the center of your palm. The bottom of the bucket is lined with croaking frogs, and the sun is well above the horizon, dousing the sky in soft pink and warm rose.

“I’m going to let them go.”

He lets out a sharp breath, hands falling to his sides, leaving streaks of mud down his tee shirt.

“You’re joking.”

You look up at him. You’re not joking.

“No,” he huffs. “You did not drag me out of my nice, warm bed to catch a million slimy frogs in the freezing cold dark just to let them go again.”

“Oh, but I did.” You’re crazy, he thinks. You’re crazy and it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. Doesn’t make you any less crazy, though it might make him much less sane.

You set the frog down in the grass and leave the bucket tipped over. The small creatures immediately flood out from the splotchy tin opening into the newborn daylight and the crisp morning air. You stand and wipe your hands against each other a few times, scrunching your nose and finally meeting his eyes again.

“What’s wrong, trouble? Cat got your tongue?”

You grin.

“You know, one of these days, I’m going to say ‘no’ to you, and it’ll be a rude awakening.”

Fred walks past you like he’s really mad. Like it was an uncrossable line and you treated it like the tape at the end of a marathon. He’s hulking back towards the house when you grab his wrist to get his attention.

“What?”

But you don’t look sad. You don’t look pitiful or hurt. You look like you’re scheming, and it drives him crazy. As if he could ever say ‘no’ to you.

“You think I’m pretty,” you coo, batting your lashes just to get on his nerves. His breath hitches, and he feels warm despite the nipping cold of the morning.

“Unrelated.”

You drop his hand and cross your arms over your chest with a pout. He continues leisurely toward the burrow, tossing his gloves to the ground with a huff of hot air.

“Fred?” you call. And you sound worried, so he’s compelled to whip around. But when he does, he’s met with a rude awakening.

It was a misstep. A silly mistake, the wrong footing. Easily avoidable, and yet he didn’t avoid it. So he’s ass-first into a mud puddle with you shrieking in laughter about a meter away.

“You’re awful,” he grumbles, both hands propping him up and seeping into the thick mud as seconds tick by.

“I’m sorry! Freddie, I’m so sorry,” you cackle, taking a few steps toward him with tears of joy in your eyes. “But you should have seen your face!”

“Help me up,” he says, shaking his head and wiping his hand down his pajama pants before holding it outstretched to you. You grab it and tug enough to leverage him out of the muck. But he doesn’t budge. And in that moment, your eyes are filled with fear. Then, with one jolt, you topple down into the mud right beside him.

“Fred!”

“An eye for an eye, sugarplum.”

You push yourself up onto your hands to find your entire front is caked in mud, the mess narrowly avoiding your chin and above.

“You’re going to pay for that.”

“Oh, bring it on,” Fred teases.

You smirk just before a handful of mud is smeared across his chest by your slippery glove.

“Your move, trouble.”

He shakes his head and chuckles, looking down at the abstract art work fondly. But not quite fondly enough to hold himself back. His fingers dig into the puddle determinedly just before patting the top of your head with it like a stray dog. You squint your eyes closed and groan before peeking one eye open and coating his cheek in mud.

You make it to your feet and Fred hurls a ball of mud at your ass but he misses and it lands in the grass in front of you. You bolt around the back of the house, but he hurls a hunk towards your shoulder blade. You yelp and shout at him:

“You’re supposed to be a gentleman!”

“I’ll show you a gentleman, sweetheart,” he hollers it just before he catches up to you. You squeal and nearly slip on a slick patch of grass, but before you can leap out of his reach, he grabs your upper arm and presses you against the tree just behind your back.

“That’s not playing fair, Freddie, I’ve got nowhere to run,” you say, breathlessly grasping at the edge of his shirt with a tired smile. He chuckles and plants one palm against the bark beside your head, bringing the other hand to cup the side of your neck.

“You don’t need to run anywhere,” he mumbles, “just stay here.” The dried mud on the pad of his thumb draws a swipe of dirt down your cheek. Your fingers curl around his wrist and your lips part sweetly when he leans in.

“Time to come inside, you two! Breakfast is ready!”

Your eyes go wide when he leans his forehead against the tree with a grumbled curse.

“I suppose I am quite peckish!” you chirp, dragging him along behind you all the way to the front door. You leave your boots and gloves outside and brush some of the dried dirt from your pajamas.

You sit across from him at breakfast and catch him stealing glances at you every so often. With a mouth full of food, you wink at him with a dirt-smeared face and almost make him spit out his juice when you kick him under the table. George teases the two of you about wrestling in the mud while Molly scolds Fred about tracking it into the house.

…

Before long, you’re facing the final night of your stay. You’d been dreading the end since the beginning, and now that it’s here, you’re heartbroken. It’s been nothing but fun and you’ve never felt so wonderfully vulnerable with so many people around.

But the thing you’ll miss most is Fred. He could sense you pulling away the last couple of days. Trying to shield yourself from the impact of reality. No matter how hard he tried to cheer you up, he knew nothing could stop you thinking about how much packing up and leaving would hurt.

With your things splayed out across the floor of your temporary room, you had started packing hours ago but kept finding ways to distract yourself and avoid the idea of leaving altogether.

“Need any help?” Fred knocks on the doorframe, leaned against it and wearing the blue jumper you once told him he looked best in. You smile up at him from the floor.

“No,” you huff, “but some company would be nice.”

He perks up and shuffles around your belongings to plant himself on the edge of the bed. You had made the bed up nicely, tucked the duvet and set the pillows out nicely. He told you you didn’t have to, but you did it anyways.

After a few minutes of folding and refolding the same shirt, you stand from the floor and join him on the bed. He’s leaned back onto his elbows when he nudges your foot with his. You nudge him back but don’t turn to look at him. So he sits up and bumps you with his shoulder.

“I’m going to miss you,” he says, fussing with the edge of your shorts to distract himself, “Being here, I mean. As a part of our family.”

You smile down at his fiddling fingertips and inch closer, looking at him with this half-sad, half-happy look that has him confused and hopeless and head over heels and confused.

“I had a really, really nice time,” you whisper, leaning your head onto his shoulder and letting your eyes drift closed.

“So…”

You chuckle and smile to yourself, “So…?”

You sit up when the floor rattles a little, a thudding coming from the room below you. Then George shouts.

“Get it over with already!”

You both look at each other and giggle. Fred leans back again and you watch him tilt his head back and let out a sigh. His chest rises and falls beneath that damned blue sweater, and you trace your fingertips over his knuckles. He lifts his head and smiles cheekily at you, like he knows what’s going on inside your head. Like he has any idea. And for once, you think he might be pretty close.

You practically tackle him to the bed, smiling against his mouth when he cradles your face in one hand and rests the other on your waist where your shirt had ridden up from the ruckus.

You pepper soft kisses over his blushing face, leaving faintly glossy lip prints on his cheeks and nose and forehead and a stray one on the column of his neck. He goes slack against the bed, satisfied and content and happy all because of you. But still, he lazily opens his eyes and grins mischievously and says:

“Took you long enough.”

You smack your hand against his chest just hard enough to warn him.

“Oh, you’re trouble, Weasley.”

He cups your hand against his warm chest and his smile ebbs from mischief to something not as easily recognized. Something that makes him shy and pink thanks to the girl who likes the freckles across the bridge of his nose in the summer and his hands even when they’re covered in mud. Love that makes him much less sane for the girl who might just be crazy for loving him back.

And all of it makes him hold your hand and lean up to kiss you one more time.

masterlist

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fluff #fluff #fanfic #hp universe #hp fandom #fred weasley x fem!reader #x reader #x fem!reader #x gryffindor!reader #friends to lovers #best friends to lovers

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galedekarios · 5 months

Text

gale, elminster & mystra: new infos from the epilogue and how they tie in with what we know from the base game

so i was mulling over bits and pieces of new information we got from the epilogue, connecting it to the stuff we already knew:

1. gale's story of how mystra came into his life in the full release

gale jumping from from "i'm what one might call a wizard prodigy, who from an early age could not only control the weave, but compose it" to "such was my skill that it earned me the attention of the mother of magic herself" to then the teacher, muse and lover dynamic.

and from early access:

Player: What did Mystra’s attention feel like? Gale: Love. Player: He sounds like a very talented individual Gale: He was. Even though it was in Mystra’s affections that his true power lay. Player: Teacher’s pet, was he? Gale: He fancied himself much more than that. He fancied himself favoured above all others. Perhaps it was not quite love, but you see, the wizard was but a very young man. It was most certainly love to him. Mystra showed him the secrets behind the veils. The gossamer veils first, draped across the Weave. The delicate veils next, draped across her body. ‘Chosen One’ she whispered, as she slipped them off completely.

2. elminster's new letter from the epilogue

we knew before that elminster must have come into his life early-ish as well from this convo:

"While most know Elminster the legend, few know him as you have. He plucked you from obscurity. Offered you his guidance. His faith."

we also know that gale got to attend blackstaff academy.

now, with the new letters from the epilogue, we know that elminster met him at eight years old:

elminster coming into his when gale was just "eight summers old", gale's talents being as they were from "an early age", mystra involving herself in his life.

perhaps those two events happening are connected: the chosen of mystra. plucking him from obscurity. taking him under his wing.

perhaps on the guidance of someone? someone very clever? someone who'd later use said mentor to also deliver a message that needed to be conveyed with the utmost severity of her bidding?

someone who'd involve herself in gale's life, too? someone who needs his ambitions to be laid to rest because of a future she glimpsed at?

3. raphael's new epilogue lines if gale fails his ascension:

Raphael: I owe you a debt of gratitude. You were the spark of ambition that rekindled Gale's ambitions, after Mystra had so cleverly put them to rest.

i'm thinking thoughts not only about "cleverly", implying some sort of scheming here or manipulation.

a goddess involving her chosen, to oversee a child, so full of promise and ambition -

(a relationship forming between elminster and gale, which even by the point we see them interact in the game, speaks of the care and love they hold for each other) -

before she too involves herself: becomes his mentor, teacher, and he becomes her chosen.

making gale her chosen as a form of control, so he perhaps would not oppose her, like, for instance, even elminster is hardly capable of.

but not only did she make him her chosen, in the same breath, she made him her lover.

we know she very much is capable of using her chosen for her needs.

raphael is also very directly saying that gale's "ambition" reawakened after meeting the protag. so we are talking about mystra putting them to rest before gale met the protag, so the comment couldn't possibly be about his character arc during the game.

i already touched on this a bit earlier but:

4. we also know that mystra has foresight, being able to predict the future to some sort of degree:

History of the Chosen of Mystra: The reason why Mystra, the Goddess of Magic, invested a portion of her divine might into mortals is not known. One of the popular theories, and one that is gaining more support in light of the other goddess' during that period, is that Mystra foresaw the Time of Troubles (and her own passing at the hands of Helm) and chose to give some of her powers to mortals in order to ensure that her successor (the female mage, Midnight, as it turned out) would have a number of nearly immortal allies in the struggle against the schemes of the gods (the now dead Bane, Myrkul and Bhaal) who precipitated the Time of Troubles by stealing the Tablets of Fate.

(again, i want to reiterate that larian doesn't keep close to the dnd timeline at times, and has quite a few lore mistakes and even breaks. i know mystra was 'dead' around the time gale would have been that young. take it up with larian, please. i'm only trying to extrapolate from the things we are told in the game and the narrative in it.)

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #elminster aumar #mystra #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 meta #ch: gale dekarios #ch: elminster aumar #ch: mystra #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 patch 5 spoilers #grooming cw

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darlingvernon · 1 year

Text

always been you [M] | yoon jeonghan.

Author: darlingvernon

Pairing: yoon jeonghan x fem reader

Genre: royalty au, arranged marriage au, smut

Rating: 18+

Warnings: explicit sexual content, unprotected sex

Word Count: 10,521

Summary: you promised yourself that you wouldn’t fall in love but jeonghan just had to go ahead and ruin everything

Author’s Note: this is my piece for the @svthub collab: Pink Eros. i’d written it differently to the way i usually write due to the concept and i'm sorry it's so long lol. please make sure you check out the other works in the collab and support my fellow writers as well! please let me know your thoughts and i hope you guys enjoy!

You were six years old when the Duke, your father, told you that you were engaged to the Crown Prince.

Back then, you had no idea what it all meant. But, being the obedient daughter that you were, the words ‘Yes, Father’ came out of your own mouth with no hesitation. That was when your whole life changed.

Almost immediately, your etiquette, history and dancing lessons increased, especially when compared to your older brother Joshua who was also taking advanced lessons as heir to the Kidrey Duchy. On top of that, you also had to learn various other subjects that would shape you to be the Crown Princess and future Empress, the Empire required.

Gone were the days when you sat back and enjoyed being a regular noble six year old and you didn’t even have the time to say goodbye.

A year later, you met Jeonghan.

On your seventh birthday, you and the Duke went on a week-long journey to Lombardi, the Capital of the Attacca Empire. As soon as you arrived, your presence was summoned by the Emperor, who had wished to greet his future daughter-in-law himself.

Your eyes were glued to the floor as you stood beside your father in front of the Emperor. To others, it would’ve seemed that you were greatly intimidated by the presence of His Majesty, which was true to some degree, since you were busy trying to remember whether you should bow, curtsey or do a mixture of both.

However, to the boy who sat next to His Majesty, it appeared that you were far more interested in the tiles that adorned the Great Hall than him. Speaking from experience, the other girls usually stared at him and giggled to themselves, mumbling about how good looking he was. The fact that you were acting differently had his curiosity piqued.

“Lady _____, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” His Majesty greeted and you managed to finally look up at him, thanks to your father’s reassuring hand that was on your back. “Blessings to you on your birthday. As a gift, I’d like to present my son, Crown Prince Jeonghan, who’ll be your playmate and fiancé.”

You finally noticed the boy who was sitting next to the Emperor when he stood. Despite being the same age as you, he was much taller. His jet black hair made his porcelain skin stand out and his clothing made his build deceivingly lean.

When your eyes met, there were no sparks, no butterflies fluttering in your belly like in the novels your nanny used to read to you. Though there was fire in his eyes as he continued to stare, you continued to feel nothing.

That same day, you decided that you would never fall in love with Jeonghan.

Since the Kidrey Duchy was a fair distance away from Lombardi, it was decided by His Majesty that Jeonghan would spend every summer at the Duchy, so that you were both able to fulfill your duties as playmates. Every summer, the only times you ever saw each other were during his arrival and during meal times. Even then, words were barely exchanged between you. Jeonghan spent most of his stay studying and sparring with Joshua and if people didn’t know any better, they would have thought that your brother was His Highness’ playmate instead.

Summer after summer passed by with no incidents and no changes to your relationship, until you turned fifteen and were making preparations to debut into high society.

It was your typical afternoon, nose buried in a book in the library when Tia, your personal maid, came and informed you that Jeonghan had invited you for some tea in the garden. With no good excuse to turn him down, you made your way to join him.

As you walked, you wondered what possessed the Crown Prince to invite you to tea but came to no conclusion. You thought the whole thing was rather strange, especially when he dismissed the guards and maids as soon as they poured your tea.

“Thank you for joining me, _____,” Jeonghan spoke first and the lack of formality took you by surprise, delaying your answer.

“Thank you for inviting me, Your Highness,” you replied after composing yourself.

Jeonghan grimaced, “Please just call me Jeonghan.”

“Your Highness, I could never—”

“At least, while we’re in private. Please,” Jeonghan requested, firmly.

You sat back and took the time to consider his request. Based on the look of determination on his face, it didn’t seem like he would have changed his mind. “I can do that,” you acquiesced, and decided to drop the formality altogether. “So, Jeonghan. Is there a reason we’re having tea at the moment? We haven’t really spoken to each other at all, ever.”

To his credit, Jeonghan didn’t bat an eye. “Father has requested that I escort you to the debutante ball,” he revealed.

With a sigh, you reached for your cup and brought it to your lips. After taking a sip, you realised it was chamomile tea, your favourite. Was this pure coincidence or did he happen to know?

“Of course, he did,” you replied eventually. “I suppose that I don’t have a choice in the matter?”

“I’m afraid not,” Jeonghan answered and you didn’t miss the way his jaw tensed. “Did you have somebody else in mind?”

“Only my brother,” you shrugged. “I didn’t want any unwanted attention or any targets on my back, which is now no longer the case. I didn’t think His Majesty wanted our engagement to be known yet?”

Jeonghan grabbed his fork and stabbed the opera cake in front of him, taking a small piece to taste. “That would be correct,” he confirmed. “The gesture won’t be revealing our engagement or placing a target on your back. You are the only daughter from the Heads of the Founding Families, it’s only right that I escort you.”

You couldn’t argue with that fact. It wasn’t unheard of from any Empire for the Crown Prince to escort a daughter from a Ducal Family. As you thought about the debutante ball, another problem reared its ugly head. “Jeonghan, you leave tomorrow,” you pointed out.

“I do.”

“How long have you known that you were going to be my partner?”

From the look on Jeonghan’s face, he expected this. “Before I left Lombardi,” he answered nonchalantly.

To say you were irritated was an understatement, but due to the fact that you were in front of the Crown Prince, you had no choice but to keep your composure. “But, you only told me today?” You laughed, humourlessly. “For what purpose—”

“I just felt like it.” Jeonghan shrugged and a smirk plastered itself on his beautifully annoying face.

Would you have been hung for treason for socking him right in the mouth even though he was your future husband?

Jeonghan could have sat there and watched you grow indignant all day. It far was better than the usual emotionless face you showed him every day. He knew you would make him pay for it later but he didn’t know how else to approach the fact that neither of you had spoken properly in all those years you had known each other and it was starting to frustrate him.

Negative thoughts and insecurities festered in his head since the day you met and nothing had satisfied his growing curiosity. He was running out of options and he wanted to at least try and get to know you before your impending nuptials. Resigned to the fact that he had to marry somebody who wasn’t of his own choosing, he’d be damned if he had to marry somebody who was a complete stranger to him.

It was impossible to run the Empire efficiently in that sense, let alone growing old together and spending the rest of your lives together.

“I didn’t mean to displease you,” Jeonghan said, and it finally got you out of your head. “Forgive me, I was only trying to knock down two birds with one stone.”

The revelation surprised you once more and you weren’t sure how many more you could have taken that day. “What was the other issue that you were concerned about?” you queried.

Jeonghan leant forward and placed both arms on the table. “We don’t converse with each other much” —he raised a brow when you were about to question him— “or at all for that matter and that is a problem. For our future and for the Empire.”

Whatever retort you had in mind came up short and you gestured for him to continue.

“We can correspond through letters,” he explained. “You can write to me once you’ve chosen your dress so that I can make sure that we match and after that, you can write about whatever you want. I don’t care if you write about every mundane thing you do. You can even write to me all the swear words and curses currently circling in your head.”

The giggle was out of your lips before you could stop it and in return, you received the view of Jeonghan’s bright smile. “I hope you won’t regret that,” you conceded. He brought up great issues to be considered and admittedly, these concerns were not new to you as they plagued you as well. “However, what are we going to do about the first dance?”

“That’s not a problem,” Jeonghan assured you. “I’ve seen you dance after all.”

“I beg your pardon—”

“Besides” —he interrupted and hoped that you’d forget about his slip— “I’m a Prince. I’ll be able to lead perfectly even if you have two left feet.”

“I do not—”

Jeonghan’s laugh echoed in the gardens and it finally dawned on you that he was just teasing. You forgave him only because he allowed you to stomp on his foot once during the dance.

And that was how your friendship blossomed.

You were eighteen when you broke your promise.

It was rather unusual for Jeonghan to be at the Kidrey Duchy during autumn and more so with such a sombre expression on his face as he stood next to you, especially after the way you both grew increasingly close to each other. But, it didn’t compare to how you looked and felt beside him.

It had only been a week since he heard the news of the Duke and Duchess’ passing and he had arrived as soon as possible. So, your hollowed eyes and sunken cheeks were a devastating shock to him. Even your brother fell to his knees and shed tears next to you as they lowered the caskets into the graves but you continued to remain stoic, showing your strength which allowed your brother a moment of weakness.

Jeonghan almost believed that you were coping rather well, but his fears were soon realised when he saw how your hand trembled as you picked up the shovel, dirt spilling from the way you shook and barely made it to the grave. As he waited for you to stand next to him once more, he tried to think of a way that he could have eased your pain.

Once Joshua gathered himself, Jeonghan took his chance and offered you his hand. A look of confusion flashed on your face and when you turned to look at your brother, he nodded in consent. Jeonghan pleaded with you until you finally took his hand and allowed him to lead you away.

You weren’t sure where he was taking you but it seemed to be the left annex of the manor where he usually stayed during his visits. Without question, you followed him until he led you into the drawing room and pulled you in with him.

“Seungcheol and Mingyu, stay out here and stand at least ten metres from this door,” Jeonghan instructed. “You do not hear whatever sound will come from this room. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Highness.” The guards bowed and obeyed his directions.

Jeonghan then led you into the centre of the room and you searched his face for an explanation. He took your hands into his, rubbed his thumb across your skin in a soothing manner and said, “I can’t even begin to understand the pain that you’re going through, but it’s just you and me in this room. It’s just you and me in this building. So, go ahead and release the grief that you’re keeping at bay. No one here will think of you as weak. Cry. Scream. Hit me if it helps. Just… don’t keep it inside you like this.”

At a loss for words, all you did was gaze at your joined hands.

“If it helps, I won’t even look at you,” he implored and closed his eyes. “I can even turn around,” he declared and did as he said. When he still couldn’t feel any movement from you, he grew even more desperate. “Look, I’ll leave. I’ll stand with the guards and let you be if you don’t want to appear weak in front of me. I’ll be on my way.”

Jeonghan barely took a step before you grabbed his wrist with both of your hands like your life depended on it. “Don’t you dare look at me,” you begged, voice filled with agony as tears spilled from the corner of your eyes. There was no stopping now that your grief had breached the surface and you hung tighter onto him as your legs gave way.

“It’s a promise,” he assured you, clutching your hands with his free hand.

“Don’t even bother trying to hear me!” you cried hysterically. Jeonghan repeatedly reassured you as your screams echoed through the room.

He didn’t know how much time had passed but eventually you finally stopped crying. When he turned to face you, his heart broke to see you filled with so much anguish. Jeonghan swore then that he would never allow anything to hurt you like this ever again.

“Jeonghan, I’m tired,” you croaked out. “I want to retire to my room, but I can’t seem to move.”

“Forgive me,” he bowed and gathered you into his arms. “I will take you back.”

“I don’t want anyone to see,” you whined like a child, but that was the least of your worries. You didn’t want to appear weak, especially in front of your brother who needed you the most.

“I understand,” Jeonghan nodded and called for his guards. He instructed them to clear the path and asked them to make sure that your brother would be otherwise preoccupied. “I have handled it. All you need to do is close your eyes and hold on to me.”

Far too tired to argue or come up with a retort, you permitted him to accompany you back to your quarters and thanked him for his efforts.

As the days passed, Jeonghan continued to look after you and in no time at all, the air between you had changed once more. Certainly on your end. Conversations flowed freely, even in person and the fluttering butterflies and sparks that had been lacking previously, suddenly appeared.

It was then that you realised that you had fallen in love with Jeonghan.

At first, you tried to deny it. There was no way your feelings had changed so suddenly. But, had it really been that sudden? It was a fact that you started to see him differently once you started to exchange letters, finding him far more interesting after you took the time to get to know him, and since actions spoke louder than words, it should have been no surprise that he eventually carved his presence into your heart.

After you became aware of your feelings, there was no escaping Jeonghan. His presence plagued you day and night, especially since he decided to stay another month to help prepare for Joshua’s succession to the Dukedom. It was starting to drive you mad, keeping your feelings to yourself, so you made the decision to let Jeonghan know how you felt about him.

That was, until you found out how he felt about you first.

It was the day before Joshua’s succession ceremony and you were on your way to see your brother in his office when you overheard their conversation from outside the door.

“I see you and _____ have become rather close lately,” Joshua stated, a teasing tone to his voice.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Jeonghan laughed a little.

“Have you grown fond of her?” your brother asked and you knew what he meant by his question. With bated breath and heart beating hard in your chest, you leaned closer to the door to hear Jeonghan’s answer.

“You know that I am bound to her by duty,” Jeonghan sighed and continued to speak some more but you could no longer hear what else he was saying. All you heard and felt was your heart shattering into pieces and you couldn’t stand to be there anymore, running all the way back to your room as tears streamed down your face.

You were such a fool for falling in love with him when it wasn’t love that intertwined him with you. Once you were all cried out, you cast your love for him out of your heart and left it hollow as you pieced its parts back together.

That day, you swore that Jeonghan would never be in your heart ever again.

Jeonghan is no fool.

As Crown Prince, he’s knowledgeable when it comes to all important matters concerning the Empire. But, when it concerns the matters of the heart, it seems that he still has a lot to learn.

This is blatantly obvious when it concerns you.

Jeonghan knows that something has changed in his relationship with you, especially if your one sentence replies to his letters are anything to go by. He could write anything between a page to ten pages long about various subjects, but your reply is always the same.

Everything is going well, Crown Prince Jeonghan.

Based on that sentence alone, Jeonghan comes to two conclusions:

You are a terrible liar

Something is definitely amiss

He sits back on his desk, mountains of paperwork long forgotten as he rubs his temple in frustration. The dread and worry within him continues to grow, not just because of the impending engagement announcement scheduled in a couple of days but more so because of his feelings for you.

Sighing, Jeonghan tries to recall when your attitude and behaviour towards him began to change, deducing that it was the day before your brother Joshua inherited the Dukedom and after the conversation Jeonghan had with him.

“I see you and _____ have become rather close lately,” Joshua stated, a teasing tone to his voice.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Jeonghan laughed a little.

“Have you grown fond of her?” Joshua asked, seriously this time.

“You know that I am bound to her by duty,” Jeonghan sighed.

“And is it still just duty that binds you to her?”

“You’re insufferable and I would’ve hung you if you weren’t my friend,” Jeonghan replied playfully. “Fine, I admit it. I have grown rather fond of her. It’s not like I could help it. She…”

Suddenly, a memory of the faint smell of your perfume from right outside Joshua’s office comes to the forefront of his mind and everything starts to become clear.

You overheard him.

There is no other explanation that comes close to this. Though he’s found the catalyst for the change, Jeonghan still doesn’t understand why you’re reacting the way that you are. Is it because you only heard part of the conversation and had been upset about it? Or is it because you heard everything he had to say and decided to distance yourself since you didn’t return his feelings?

Whatever the case is, though he hopes it isn’t the latter, he has no time to sit around fiddling his thumbs and wallowing in sorrow. With so little time left before the engagement announcement, Jeonghan needs to make amends and work things through with you, before your relationship becomes broken beyond repair.

With that in mind, he summons his butler and organises some gifts to be sent to the Lombardi Estate where you’re currently staying, even though he knows it will be futile since you are someone who is not so easily swayed by such gestures. But, he hopes to at least get a different reaction than the one you’ve been giving him, preferring your anger over your indifference.

Jeonghan isn’t surprised to see the gifts returned back to the Palace a few hours later. However, he is surprised to see Duke Joshua waiting there for him.

“Did _____ send you to have a word with me?” Jeonghan sighs as he pours a drink for the both of them in the drawing room.

“No, though she did say that she doesn’t require this grand gesture and assured that she’ll be performing her duty well,” Joshua snickers before quickly settling down when Jeonghan narrows his eyes at him. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m here with a solution.”

“Admittedly, I’m willing to try anything at this point,” Jeonghan grumbles.

“Take her out to the Valentine's Festival tomorrow.”

“Will that really work?”

Joshua shrugs, “You know what they say, it’s a magical time and Eros always blesses the celebrants with love.”

Jeonghan doubts his chances. “I don’t know if that’s possible for either of us.”

“What have you got to lose?” Joshua challenges, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “I know my sister. Take her to the Festival and it’ll all work out.”

During breakfast the next day, your brother Joshua drops a letter beside you before he excuses himself from the Dining Hall. The Red Imperial Seal on it lets you know that it’s a letter from Jeonghan. Every fibre of your being wants to ignore it and rip it into shreds but you can’t seem to do it.

With only a day left before your engagement announcement at the Imperial Banquet, it could contain something important, so you open it reluctantly.

Dearest _____,

I would be honoured if you would accompany me tonight to experience what the Valentine’s Festival has to offer.

If you are so inclined, I have sent some commoners’ clothing to serve as a disguise and I will be waiting for you at the entrance of your Estate as soon as the sun sets.

Don’t worry, I have permission from the Duke.

Yours, Jeonghan.

With a sigh, you place the letter back on the table and reach for your cup of tea. Placing it on your lips, you take a sip and let the disappointment of the peppermint set in. You haven’t been able to drink chamomile for awhile now as it reminds you of bitter memories with Jeonghan.

As you lower the cup back on the table, you try to come up with a dozen excuses to decline him but find yourself unable to do so. His invitation is far too tempting, especially since you’ve always been curious about the Valentine’s Festival.

The Valentine’s Festival is an annual celebration held for Eros, the God of love, and is one of the most popular and grand events in the Attaca Empire.

Streets in the Capital are lined up with various stalls filled with food, jewellery and other merchandise, and the inns and boutiques are filled to the brim. There are dancers, magicians, actors and singers on almost every corner of the Square and the city is alive for most of the day and well into night. It’s easily the busiest and most profitable event in the Empire, lasting a whole week and ending with a banquet hosted by the Imperial Family.

Nobles and Commoners from all over the Empire converge in Lombardi to see what the Festival has to offer and hope to leave with their hearts full; it is a celebration of love after all.

You’ve never felt that there was a point in you partaking in the festivities and celebrating love since you’ve been betrothed to Jeonghan since before you were even born. Duty is the reason you’re bound to spend the rest of your lives together and not the other four letter word everybody else yearns for. Just like he said all those months ago.

Despite all your efforts, you haven’t been able to forget your feelings for him. Every time you read his letters, your affection for him grows and you can never throw them away, no matter how hard you try. And despite your efforts, Jeonghan refuses to give up, not allowing you to stray far away from him.

Why is he doing this? Is this really all just because of his duty? Is there really no way that his heart beats for you like yours does for him?

He confuses you to no end and you don’t know if this is something you can live with as long as you’re with him. You have to know how Jeonghan really feels and in doing so, you hope that your heart will finally be at peace. Grabbing the pen and paper that Tia had prepared, you write your reply and agree to meet him.

“Thank you for meeting me,” Jeonghan greets you once you’re within his reach.

Dressed in nothing but a pair of black trousers and matching black button down shirt, his top two buttons are undone and his sleeves are rolled up to reveal veins that run from his arm down to his hand. With his hair slicked back, you think it’s rather unfair how dashing he looks in these plain clothes.

Compared to Jeonghan, you’re wearing a red floor length summer dress, short sleeves sitting just below your shoulders and white flowers adorning the whole fabric.

“I honestly didn’t think you’d come,” he says, tearing his gaze away from your exposed collarbone. “Also, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you. Honestly, I didn’t think I would come either,” you admit with a small smile. “But, the offer of seeing the Valentine’s Festival is far too tempting. Is it just us two or will there be guards with us?”

Stepping closer, Jeonghan offers to hoist you up on the horse and he’s thankful that you don’t decline him. “The guards will be watching from afar,” he answers as he settles you on the horse. “They won’t come unless I call them so it will be mostly just us. I didn’t want to attract any attention to us so we can enjoy everything freely.”

“Jeonghan, you could be wearing rags and the people will still recognise the Crown Prince,” you scoff. Only a blind person wouldn’t see and know who he is, with his perfect handsome face.

“That won’t be the case,” he assures you as he mounts the same horse and seats himself behind you. Pointing to the ring on his right pinky finger, he explains further, “Jihoon imbued some magic in here that helps disguise my face. Only you can see me as I am.”

“The Royal Mage?”

“That’s him.”

“Do you think he can give me one as well?” you ask as calmly as you can, considering your proximity as Jeonghan starts the horse on a light trot. He’s sitting so close that you can feel his breath against your hair.

Jeonghan slightly tightens his arms around you, on the guise of making sure you don’t fall off, even though he truly just wants to be closer to you. “I’ve already asked him to put some spells on the engagement ring I’ll be giving to you tomorrow,” he answers, slightly flinching at the word engagement as he doesn’t know of your feelings yet. “I can ask him for something else if you wish?”

“No, the ring is fine,” you reply, trying to hide your hurt from feeling him flinch against you. The night is off to a terrible start but you promised that you would try to enjoy yourself at the very least, so you push yourself to move on. “So, what exactly will we be doing at the Festival?”

With a sigh, Jeonghan collects himself. The night is only beginning and he won’t lose hope just yet. “There’s lots of shows and dances for us to see along with the fireworks,” he reveals. Smiling, he adds, “We’ll also do lots of eating of course.”

You can’t help but laugh then and if you turn your head slightly, you would’ve seen the relief on Jeonghan’s face. “Well, now you’re speaking my language,” you state, covering your mouth with your hand as you giggle. “Let’s get moving then. There’s no time to waste.”

Bending slightly, Jeonghan whispers in your ear, “Yes, dear.”

The term of endearment takes you by surprise and you have to stop yourself from turning to look at him, not wanting to reveal how much it affects you. You need not bother really because Jeonghan clearly sees the way your hands cup your heating cheeks in an attempt to cool them and he has to spend the whole journey to the town square stopping himself from kissing your adorable face.

It isn’t long until you reach the Capital, the trip feeling shorter than you thought due to the conversation freely flowing just like it used to. Laughs and banters were shared and not a hint of awkwardness was found.

Leaving the horse in an alley, Jeonghan takes you by the hand and leads you around the Festival. Like a seasoned veteran, he takes you around from stall to stall, seeing what the merchants have to offer, before finding you both a seat at the small outdoor theatre where a play is about to begin.

“I didn’t think you’d know your way around,” you mention before taking a bite from the skewer he bought. “Am I correct in saying that you’ve done this before?”

Jeonghan swallows his food and answers, “You’d be correct. I’ve been out and about once or twice before.”

Biting your lip, you decide to test the waters. “Accompanying other ladies, I presume?” you ask.

“You are the first,” Jeonghan clarifies quickly. “I haven’t taken anyone else, nor do I plan to take anybody else but you.”

You accept his answer with a small smile and turn your attention to the commencing performance.

Try as he might, Jeonghan cannot look away from you even if he wanted to, finding you far more captivating than the play. He watches the way your eyes sparkle and the way your smile grows in wonder, etching it in his memory in the off chance that the misunderstanding between you doesn’t get resolved.

When the play finishes, you applaud and join the audience in a standing ovation, telling Jeonghan how great the play was and all of your thoughts about it. He doesn’t have a single clue what you’re talking about since he saw none of it but he listens intently, smiling at how passionate you are about it.

Suddenly, a group of musicians make their way onto the stage and the previous performers work to remove the wooden crates that were used as seats, turning a portion of the Square onto a dance floor. Not wanting to waste the opportunity he’s been given, Jeonghan bows in front of you and offers his hand.

“May I have this dance, my lady?”

“Jeonghan,” you whisper so that the crowd doesn’t hear. “It isn’t that I don’t want to dance with you, but I don’t know how to do this kind of dance.”

“I don’t see that as a problem since I can lead you,” Jeonghan assures you.

Reluctantly, you give him your hand which he gladly accepts. “I believe you said that you hadn’t taken a lady here before,” you state, pout growing as he snickers at your miniature tantrum. “How is it that you know this dance then?”

Holding your right hand tightly with his left hand, he places your other hand on his shoulder and rests his free hand on your lower back. “I learnt through watching,” Jeonghan smirks and gently ushers you closer to him until there’s no space left between your bodies. “Besides, I’m the Crown Prince, I can do anything.”

“Including making a fool out of me, I bet.”

“Sweetheart, that would be impossible,” Jeonghan utters and just as you open your mouth to try and say something, the music starts and he begins to lead you.

The dance seems simple enough so far, starting off with the basic steps of the waltz which you’re thankful for, as Jeonghan’s close proximity continues to distract you. “Why do you do that?” you query, your burning curiosity getting the better of you.

To your chagrin, Jeonghan feigns innocence. “I’m afraid I don’t have the slightest idea what it is you are referring to, my darling.”

“That! It is exactly that! Why do you use every form of endearment and not call me by name?”

“We agreed to only do so in private,” Jeonghan teasingly reminds you. “On top of that, I quite enjoy” —his hands travel to your waist and lifts you into the air— “seeing the way you look so flustered.”

At this revelation, he gets a perfect view of your gaping mouth before he has to lift you in the air again.

“I knew it,” you scoff upon your soft landing, thanks to Jeonghan’s sturdy hands. “Two can play this game, you know.”

“Oh, you think so?” Jeonghan challenges as he signals that another lift is coming.

“I do, my love,” you reply coyly just as he lifts you again, and you can tell that you’ve caught him off guard from the way his hands slip slightly, almost dropping you. “Honey, you almost dropped me,” you scold, playfully smacking him on the chest once you’re safely back on your own two feet.

“The fault is yours for surprising me,” Jeonghan mutters, biting back the smile threatening to take over his face.

Guiding you to stand beside him and turning you to face the opposite direction he is, Jeonghan places his arm in front of you to hold your hip that’s furthest from him and you mirror his motion, allowing him to turn you both in a circular motion.

“I didn’t think anything could surprise you, dear,” you tease, feeling his hand tighten on your hip.

“Admittedly, I didn’t think so either,” Jeonghan grumbles, slightly pushing at your hip so you can both change the direction you’re facing. “At least until I met you.”

You’re about to respond when Jeonghan turns you again and you find yourself facing another gentleman. It seems the dance includes a change in partner ever so often until you arrive back at your original partner. It’s unfair of him to say such a thing just before he hands you off, further confusing you and igniting the feelings you have for him once more.

Taking a chance to look at him, you find him staring back at you. His new dance partner is speaking with him and he seems to be conversing with her but his gaze on you is unwavering and you are trapped in his spell. Unable to look away even if you wanted to and even if you have to because of the steps of the dance, your eyes find him again and again through the crowd, feeling even closer to him despite the distance.

And when the dance finally comes to a close, you end up back in his arms like you were always meant to be there. Like Jeonghan was always the one meant to hold you.

This feeling of uncertainty is foreign to you. All this time, you thought you knew how he feels about you, but his words and actions beg to differ.

However, it matters not, until you know the exact reasons for the way he’s behaving.

Is he still only motivated by duty? Or did the premise of the Valentine’s Festival finally open up his heart?

Whatever the case may be, it is something you can no longer ignore and your growing feelings for him is something you can no longer deny.

“Why are you doing this to me?” you ask and Jeonghan is taken aback. “Why do you confuse me so?”

Your inner turmoil is written as clear as day on your face and Jeonghan wishes for nothing more than to be able to gather you in his arms and confess his feelings to you. The thought alone scares him half to death but it’s not as frightening as the thought of spending the rest of your lives together with your cold indifference towards him.

What’s the worst that can happen?

Of course, there is a chance that once he finally reveals his true feelings that you may not feel the same way about him. If that is the case, it’s still possible for you to grow to love him, further down the line as you both grow older. But, Jeonghan knows that if he doesn’t take advantage of the opportunity he’s been given, your heart may close the door on him forever.

“_____, listen—”

“Jeonghan, I—”

“Everyone, the fireworks will begin in a few minutes!”

Sighing, you lower your head onto Jeonghan’s chest. “I know we need to talk but I also want to see the fireworks,” you whine.

Cupping your face in his hands, Jeonghan raises your head so that you can look at him. “We can watch the fireworks and talk after,” he concedes, but it’s worth it when your eyes light up like Christmas morning. Placing his hands gingerly on your shoulders, he instructs, “Please stay right here and wait for me. I’ll be right back with some refreshments.”

“I’ll wait,” you assure him.

“I’ll only be a minute, please stay right where I can see you.”

Gently squeezing your hand, Jeonghan reluctantly turns away from you and heads to find the nearest pub. Every now and then, he turns to check that you’re still right where he left you. This time, when he turns, his brows furrowed in worry when he no longer sees you in his field of vision as the crowd fills the square.

Drinks forgotten, Jeonghan weaves through the crowd in search of you. He calls for you multiple times to no avail and even as he reaches the spot where he left you, there’s no sign of you anywhere. It’s just his luck that the fireworks then commence and it drowns out his voice as he begins to call for you once more. Cursing, he makes his way through the sea of bodies to continue his search.

The thought of something terrible happening to you fills him with dread, making him sick to his stomach. He pleads with Eros to help him find you and his prayer is answered when a gust of wind carries along petals that land in your vicinity. Bristling, he makes his way over to where you are.

“Oh Jeonghan, there you are,” you greet but your smile fades as soon as you see the expression on his face. It’s one that you’ve never seen on his usually bright face, at least not directed at you. “Is something the matter?”

Jeonghan remains silent as he grabs hold of your wrist and leads you out of the overcrowded square. You didn’t dare to resist when it’s clear that right now, he is not one to be messed with. Soon enough, you reach your destination, finding yourself in a secluded alley in the square away from prying eyes and eager ears.

He all but flings you in the alley and your hands brace themselves on the cool brick wall to stop and steady yourself. “What in the world were you thinking?!” he asks, livid. “Or was it that you weren’t thinking at all?”

“I have no idea what it is you’re referring to—”

“I only asked one thing of you,” he states calmly but you can see how furious he is beneath the surface, his eyes blazing with fire. “One direction that even a child could follow and they would have listened.”

Ah, it’s finally dawned on you what makes him so angry.

“I don’t understand why it’s such an issue—”

“You don’t understand why it’s an issue?!”

“—I only went to a better spot for the fireworks,” you finish explaining despite Jeonghan talking over you. “It’s not like you couldn’t see me—”

Jeonghan laughs out loud but there is no mirth to it. “That is precisely it!” he snarled. “I couldn’t see you anywhere I looked. I called out for you so many times and received no response back. I was so worried and I thought I had lost you—”

“And why does that matter?” you argue and the question renders Jeonghan speechless, but you’re not done yet. “Why does it matter if you lose me? Why do you care?”

At this, Jeonghan could no longer remain silent. “I beg your pardon,” he protests. “Of course, I care about you.”

“But, only because of your duty,” you remind him as you roll your eyes.

“No, it goes far beyond that.”

This is a game that you no longer wish to play.

“That’s not what you said that day,” you reveal, finally admitting that you overheard his conversation with your brother that day. “Don’t even think of lying to me because I heard everything.”

Now that you’ve confirmed his earlier assumption, Jeonghan proceeds, so that he can now get an answer as to how you feel about him. “And, what exactly did you hear?”

“That you’re only bound to me by duty.”

“And?” he prods, impatiently.

“What do you mean, ‘and’?” you ask, confused as to where he’s heading with the conversation.

“I did say that” —he crosses his arms— “but what about the rest of it?”

With a pout, you answer confidently, “You didn’t say anything else.”

“Yes, I did,” he declares with a sadistic calm.

“No, you didn’t.” You stand your ground but that is the last straw for Jeonghan.

“Yes, I did!” he yells in frustration, grabbing at his hair. “I admitted that I had grown fond of you and it was something that had been beyond my control.”

“What?” you wonder, more to yourself than anything.

Already having gone this far, Jeonghan doesn’t hold himself back any longer, baring his heart out after coming close to losing you. “I said that you had me falling in love with you with no hopes of ever getting up, ever since the moment I laid my eyes on you.”

No, there’s not a chance that this is real. You’re sure of it. Yet, you find yourself asking, “You love me?”

“I love you,” Jeonghan vows with no hesitation. “Despite everything, I fall more and more in love with you and right now, as you stand before me, I have never been more in love with you.”

No matter how hard you search, there’s no sign of a lie on his face. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Actually, I did.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I truly did,” Jeonghan says, smug. “I wrote them in every letter I sent you since that day I admitted to my own feelings.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’ve never lied—”

“You have, when you lied about being my partner for my debutante ball,” you remind him, brow raised in challenge.

Jeonghan bites his lip and moves closer to you, eliminating the space between your bodies. “I was merely delaying the truth that time,” he jokes. “But, I really did let you know in my last letters. You would’ve known if you had read them.”

“I did—”

Jeonghan interrupts, taking your hands in his as he says, “Enough about the letters. _____, I’ve finally told you how I truly feel about you. Please, stop torturing me and tell me how you feel about me.”

“I—”

“I don’t think it matters how the young lady feels since she’ll be coming with us and you won’t be alive anymore to see her again,” a stranger interrupts and Jeonghan is quick to shield you behind him. More thugs turn up and Jeonhan slowly retreats until you’re squeezed between him and the wall.

Jeonghan doesn’t miss the way you tremble in fear and he knows that he has to deal with them as soon as possible. He almost lost you once today and he’d be damned if he lets it happen a second time. Especially now that he’s confessed his feelings to you.

“Close your eyes and cover your ears,” Jeonghan instructs but you shake your head vehemently. “Please, listen to me just this once. I don’t want you to see this.”

“Call for Seungcheol,” you plead, holding on to his arm. “There’s far too many of them. We can wait until he gets here.”

“It’ll be too late by then,” Jeonghan sighs. “Close your eyes. I promise that no harm will come to you.”

“What about you?” you caution, tears flowing freely down your face. The love of your life has finally confessed that he feels the same about you but why is fate so cruel to put you in this position?

“There’s no need to worry,” he assures you as he draws out his sword. “Now, do as I say. I won’t take long.”

Eventually, you relent and let go of his arm. Taking one final look at him, Jeonghan places a chaste kiss on your forehead, forcing your eyes closed as he moves your hands to cover your ears tight. When you feel him pull away, you almost defy him once more but ultimately know that you’ll only be in his way, increasing his chance of getting hurt.

So, you stay right where you are and do exactly as Jeonghan says, praying to Eros to return the one that you love safely.

You don’t know how much time has passed but you eventually feel Jeonghan’s warm yet wet hands pull your hands away from your ears, letting you know that the ordeal is over. When you open your eyes, you see his shirt drenched in blood despite the colour of the material.

“You’re bleeding,” you cry out, hands reaching out to check on him, but his hands stop you from doing so.

“It’s not all mine,” he assures you only to be met with the roll of your eyes.

“That doesn’t make it any better,” you scold.

“I’m fine—”

“No, you’re not!” you exclaim through your tears. “You’re hurt and it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t wandered off in the first place, we wouldn’t be in this alley and—”

“If you hadn’t wandered off, I wouldn’t have had an opportunity to finally tell you how I feel about you.”

“Is that even important right now?” you sob unceremoniously into your hands. “Now, I know how it feels.”

“What do you mean?” Jeonghan asks.

“I almost lost you and I haven’t even had the chance to tell you how I feel about you.”

Jeonghan’s heart picks up speed and it feels like it’s about to beat right out of his chest. This is the moment he’s been waiting for and he can’t believe you both had to risk your lives in order for it to happen. “And how do you feel about me?”

“Your Highness!” Seungcheol calls from the entrance of the alley before you can answer Jeonghan. “I’ve finally found you both. My apologies for arriving late.”

“Actually, you’re far too early,” Jeonghan rolls his eyes and you have to cover your mouth to hold down your laugh upon seeing Seungcheol’s confused face. “Did you bring my horse?”

The guard nods. “I’ve also brought a carriage for Lady _____,” he adds. “Shall I summon the physician to their Estate?”

“That’s not necessary,” you decline as you are unscathed. “Please summon them to the Palace instead along with the Royal Mage. His Highness may need some healing magic in time for our Engagement Announcement tomorrow.”

“Yes, m’lady.” Seungcheol bows. “Your carriage has arrived and is ready to escort you back.”

Sighing, Jeonghan lowers his head onto your shoulder and your hand reaches out to play with the hair on the nape of his neck. “Won’t you consider coming back to the Palace with me?” he entreats and feels you shake your head to decline him. “We haven’t finished our conversation yet. Must I really wait till the Banquet to hear your answer? Must you really torture me again?”

“Must you be so dramatic?” you tease him and he nips at your shoulder in retaliation. You have to commend him, he’s grown rather bold ever since he confessed his love for you. It seems he no longer wants to waste any time and frankly, since you feel exactly the same towards him, you don’t want to waste another second without him either. “You can always come to see me before tomorrow.”

Jeonghan lifts his ahead, adorable confusion on his face and you can’t help but giggle. “How will I see you before tomorrow?” he asks, tilting his head.

“My balcony faces the Glass House in the Estate,” you whisper in his ear, bidding him farewell with a light kiss on his cheek. “You’re the Crown Prince. Surely you’re smart enough to figure it out?”

He is and he can’t wait.

It’s when you’re brushing your hair by your vanity before retiring for the night when you hear the knock on your bedroom window. Spotting his familiar figure through the mirror, you place the brush on the marble surface and make your way to let him in. Pulse racing as you unlock the window, you don’t dare to look at his face and walk back to the centre of room, only turning towards him once he’s let himself in and closed the window behind him.

Jeonghan takes his time studying you, gaze instantly drawn to the way you stare at the floor once more instead of him, just like you used to. Eyes drifting lower, he spots your slightly parted lips and he has to stop himself from reaching out and running his thumb across your bottom lip. His gaze travels lower once more, breath hitching at the sight of the top of your breasts due to the low neckline of your nightgown. Seeing the way your chest heaves from your erratic breathing makes something inside him snap and he shoves his hands in his pockets, taking big strides until he’s standing right in front of you.

“Such a cruel woman you are.” He breaks the silence, pushing your chin up with his finger so that you finally look at him. “Inviting me here and making me wait for your attention. Do you know how agonising it is when you look as delectable as you do? But, we’re not quite there yet, are we?”

Your attempt to look away from him is thwarted when he grabs your chin between his thumb and index finger and you’re forced to endure the intense regard in which he holds you. “If anyone’s waited long enough, it’s me,” you say in hopes to placate him.

However, it has the opposite effect on Jeonghan. “That’s rich coming from you,” he retorts. “Especially after I professed my love for you today. If I recall correctly, I’m yet to hear about your feelings towards me.”

“I’m afraid,” you say truthfully.

“What are you afraid of?”

“I don’t express myself well with words,” you confess. “I’m afraid my words would be insufficient to describe what it is I truly feel for you.”

Jeonghan shifts impossibly closer to you eliminating the space between you. Cupping your face in his hands, he leans in closer and ghosts your lips with his. “Hm, you always were better with your actions,” he breathes, thumb skimming your bottom lip like he fantasised, smearing your lip tint a little. “Would you prefer to show me instead?”

“Yes,” you sigh, eyes immediately closing.

Jeonghan’s lips hesitantly touches yours in a feather light kiss and it’s much too soft and quick for your liking. He moves to pull away, testing the waters but he doesn’t get far when you grab hold of his shirt, pulling him towards you so that you can kiss him once more. This time, the kiss you share is more intense, carrying your emotions with it and when they finally reach him, Jeonghan becomes bolder and returns your kiss with the same fervor.

His kisses grow hungrier and more heated each time, almost devouring you whole but you are insatiable. You crave to taste more of him, sliding your hands up and locking your arms behind his neck, pulling him further into you. Wrapping his arms around your middle, he holds you tight and you pull away in a gasp when you feel him, half hard and large against your hip.

Not liking the separation, Jeonghan dives in and takes the chance to shove his tongue in your gaping mouth, intertwining with yours in a perfect dance. His eager hands travel from your hips to your bottom, groping and kneading its cheeks before venturing further south. When they land behind your thighs, he grabs hold and lifts you onto him as he walks towards your bed.

Jeonghan sits down on the edge of your bed with you on top of him and you shift your legs to straddle him comfortably. You kiss him again and again, timing a third kiss with the roll of your hips and you feel his excitement grow against your centre. Impatient, your hands scramble to untuck his shirt from his trousers, pulling it over his head to toss to the other side of the room.

“Oh fuck,” you swear at the sight of his toned abdomen, not caring for how unladylike you are becoming. Biting your lip, your fingertips glide across his skin as you take him in.

This new side to you is enthralling and Jeonghan feels proud knowing that only he is privy to it. That you are here, completely and utterly enamored by him and him alone. Jeonghan leans back on his elbows watching you with eyes full of aroused curiosity. “Your turn.” He nods in your direction and you comply.

If it were anybody else who asked, you know you would have hesitated to no end. But, Jeonghan makes you feel brave. He makes you feel loved. He makes you feel desired. Grabbing the hem of your nightgown, you shimmy out of it at an excruciatingly slow pace, noticing the way Jeonghan eyes you like a man starved, his breath hitching at every inch of skin you reveal.

“You are beautiful,” he breathes out and it diminishes whatever insecurity existed that was begging you to cover yourself up. Sitting up, he kisses you lasciviously, gripping you tight as he pivots and pushes you into the mattress. His fingers make their way between your bodies, toying with the waistband of your underwear, before pulling the lewdly soaked material down your legs. “Move up on the bed, lie down on the pillows and spread your legs. I want to see you.”

Taking a deep breath, you do as he says, watching with interest as he sheds the rest of his clothing. Jeonghan can’t help but stare too long at your inviting pussy and he doesn’t miss the way your legs quiver in anticipation. Like a predator hunting its prey, he gets on the bed and crawls slowly towards you and fits himself between your legs. He lowers his body until your chest to chest and meets your lips again in a fiery kiss.

This time, he doesn’t stay on your lips too long, desperate to touch and feel more of you, kissing along your jaw and down where your neck meets your shoulder. He marks his place on the juncture of your neck, sucking and nipping until a purple bruise is left in its wake. Lifting his head slightly, he marvels at the view of your breasts, eyes rolling back before diving in and taking your right nipple in his mouth.

His tongue darts out to kitten lick at your wetted bud, blowing air on it before sucking it back into his mouth. Being the gentleman that he is, he dares not to neglect your other breast, palming and fondling it before he switches and pays attention to it. Your ragged breaths bounces off the walls in your room and he uses the sounds to spur him on along with how your body twists and squirms beneath him.

“Relax _____,” Jeonghan coos at you. “I’m just as… new to this as you are.”

“It doesn’t seem like it,” you murmur. “But, I guess my education on this was limited compared to yours.”

Sitting back on his knees, he grabs hold of his cock, groaning as he strokes himself a few times before he guides himself to slide between your folds. Watching him with keen eyes, you grow more desperate for him, mouth hanging open in a silent plea. Once he’s well lubricated from your juices, he aligns himself by your entrance, preparing himself to enter your glistening trove.

“This is the last chance you have to refuse me,” Jeonghan rasps out. “If you don’t, I’ll be taking away your virtue and will never let you go.”

“No one is taking my virtue away,” you mewled, reaching for his free hand and guiding it up your body to rest on your breast. “I am freely giving it to you, along with my love. So, don’t you dare even consider letting me go.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jeonghan grits his teeth as he pushes the head of his cock through your cunt, straining to hold himself back from fully impaling you on his cock to avoid hurting you.

“You can keep going,” you nod, breathing becoming ragged even as you try to calm yourself.

His hands reach for yours and intertwine them together, pinning them on either side of your head as he lowers himself until all of his weight is on you. With a shaky exhale, he sinks in further but still not all the way, peppering your chest with kisses in apology as he waits for you to accommodate him.

Tears pool at the corner of your eyes, sliding down your cheeks and you don’t have the strength to hold them back. Jeonghan whispers words of affirmation onto your skin and your heart swells in your chest. You seek out his lips and he gladly obliges you, kissing languidly until the current stretch is bearable.

“With all that I am, I love you and I’m yours,” you confess, whimpering as Jeonghan pushes deeper as a result.

A moan of your name from deep within his chest slips from his lips and he’s unable to hold himself back even if he wanted to, sheathing himself to the hilt inside you. The burning sensation of the stretch makes you tremble but it’s nothing compared to the feel of fullness inside you.

Releasing one of your hands, Jeonghan cups your cheek and kisses you hard, wanting to alleviate your pain. When you feel his cock throb inside your warm walls, you inadvertently clench around him and the last of his control snaps.

“Love, please tell me I can move,” he growls and you respond by shakily hooking your legs around his waist, taking him even deeper with a roll of your hips.

Jeonghan takes this as his cue, slowly drawing his cock out and harshly slamming back in. Crying out his name in ecstasy, your hands move to rest on his shoulders, nails digging in as his pace increases. An intense heat starts to build inside you, arching your back from the mattress as your hips frantically grind against him to match his rhythm.

“Jeonghan, I…” you sob, the intense heat taking all over your body. “I can… feel something… something is coming.”

“Gods, I feel it too,” he croaks and relentlessly drives himself inside you. Winding his arms around your middle, he holds tight and moves your body the way he wants so that you can both have the release you’re desperately seeking.

It’s when Jeonghan’s lips brushes by your ear, whispering ‘I love you’ with a perfectly timed shift of his hips, that the coil inside you snaps, eyes rolling to the back of your head and body shivering as your orgasm consumes you, a litany of his name echoing in the room.

At the feeling of your pulsating walls around his cock, his movements begin to falter. When you profess your love for him, he careens clean off the edge, hips jerking as he comes and a sigh of your name escaping from his lips as he paints your walls with his hot, white release.

Jeonghan buries his face in the juncture of your neck, hot breath fanning your skin as you rake your fingers through his damp hair. You stay together like this until your breathing evens out, not caring about your sweaty skin or the stickiness between your legs.

Then, he slowly pulls out his softening cock, watching your face for any signs of discomfort along the way. Planting a kiss on your shoulder, Jeonghan leaves the bed for a moment, fetching a towel and basin filled with water from the bath. With utmost care, he wipes the mess clean from your body. Once he’s put the soiled cloth away, he joins you back on the bed, dragging your body until you’re tight against his chest, whispering his love for you repeatedly until slumber comes for you.

When morning comes, it is anything but quiet. It starts off with your maid Tia dramatically dropping a basin upon catching you tangled in bed with the Crown Prince and Jeonghan being caught sneaking out the balcony by Joshua who’s having his morning coffee by the adjacent balcony. Jeonghan avoids being scolded because he pulls rank with the Duke, but you’re not so lucky. He bids you farewell with a kiss before heading back to the Palace to prepare for the Imperial Banquet.

It all happens quickly after that, spending most of the day getting pampered and leaving you with no time to even think about the events of the previous night. Upon your arrival at the Palace, you’re quickly ushered to stand in front of the door to the Great Hall where Jeonghan is already waiting.

Grabbing your hand, he gently kisses the back of it before planting another one on your cheek. Jeonghan stares longingly into your eyes before disrupting the connection by breaking into laughter.

“What’s so funny?” you ask, tilting your head in confusion.

“Nothing, I’m just happy,” he beams, bending to rest his forehead on your shoulder. “I’m glad that it’s not just duty that binds us together and that we’re actually fated to each other.”

“As am I,” you assure him, turning to kiss him on the cheek. “My love has always been you and it will always be you.”

“Always,” Jeonghan vows, lifting his head so that you can see his sincerity.

You return the promise with a kiss, along with a silent prayer to Eros in thanks and your hearts have never been fuller.

please do not copy/repost/translate my work without my permission

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kitashousewife · 9 months

Text

you started dating kita shinsuke your second year of high school.

you met him at the beginning of the school year when you asked him for help with your math homework. he happily obliged, and by the end of it he had earned your phone number.

the next few weeks were filled with late nights texting each other, talking about nothing at all. you learned his favorite color, and you told him about your favorite songs. he asked you to be his girlfriend a month after.

that was eight years ago. red is still his favorite color, and he still has your favorite songs on his playlist.

the first two years of your relationship was filled with tests, study sessions under his grandma’s blossom tree, and many volleyball matches. you never missed a game, not even the far away ones. always in the crowd to cheer him on while he gave you a small smile, ears red and cheeks pink.

kita picked you up for your first date in a old farm truck. you heard him coming yards away as the engine hummed through the neighborhood. the paint chipped and exhaust sputtering as he parked in the driveway, palms a little sweaty as he fixed his hair in the rear view. he about jumped out of his skin when he saw that you were already at his door. he still drives that truck, using it for chores and deliveries, but you’ll never say no to a ride when he asks.

that same truck got the two of you into trouble. the sound alone made it almost impossible to stay out late, cutting sneaky last minute kisses on your front porch short. one particular night, you had begged your mom to let you stay out late, to which she agreed as long as you were home by midnight. at 11:59, in a fit of giggles, the two of you came racing into the driveway.

kita pulled you in for a kiss, only to be illuminated by the the kitchen light flicking on. you jumped out of the truck, running into the house with a dopey grin on your face while you made up an excuse to your mom, blaming non existent traffic for slowing you down.

kita wasn’t off the hook either that night. gran heard him coming from down the road, waiting for him in her rocker with raised eyebrows.

after graduation, the two of you spent every moment you could together. delivering kita snacks while he worked in the fields, having picnics under the stars, even joining his friends on trips to the lake.

when it was time to head to university, kita was the first to offer to help you pack. he calmed your nerves and dried your tears, promising to be there for you whenever you needed.

he called you every day while you were at university, even traveling to see you between holidays.

after you got your degree, gran so graciously offered to let you live with her. your family had moved away, and you couldn’t bear to be away from kita any longer. you spent your days at work, only to come home and enjoy dinner cooked by gran with the man who had your entire heart.

as if you had any more to give, kita asked for the rest of your heart at the end of harvest a couple years ago, proposing with a family ring that he had been saving. you could only nod as tears streamed down your face, being spun around under the evening sun. kita didn’t even change, still wearing the work pants and stained t shirt, dusty boots and sun hat that he donned earlier that morning. he couldn’t wait any longer.

your wedding was everything you could have imagined. full of friends and family, dancing and food. kita spent weeks with his friends fixing up the yard, making it fit for a queen and her king on their big day. lights hung from the trees, flowers from your garden littering the grass and tables, all while your friends laughed and sang along to soundtrack to your love.

three years later, you and kita sit in the back yard after dinner in an attempt to cool off after a long day preparing for harvest. the summer sun hung low in the air while you filled kita in on the phone call you had with your mother.

“she found a few boxes of my things,” you sighed. “stuff from school, photos and things. i told her to set them aside.”

“anything good?” kita’s back is on the grass, and his feet are flat on the ground. the knees of his pants are soiled brown from the fields.

“photo albums, note books, random odds and ends i think. i’ll grab them from her eventually,” you pick at the blades of grass at your feet. “i’m sure we could have a good laugh at some of them.”

your husbands mud stained hand comes to rest on your thigh.

“do ya remember when i first brought ya home to gran?”

you smile. it was an absolute disaster.

“i thought i would never be welcomed back,” you laugh, and kita snorts.

“she loves ya too much,” he closes his eyes as you play with his hands. “what did ya break again? a plate?”

“a drinking glass,” you nod. the memory is as vivid as ever. you had offered to help with dinner, but while you were turning to grab a hot pad you ended up knocking a drinking glass off of the counter. you apologized over and over, no matter how much gran waved you off and assured you that it wasn’t a big deal. i’ve got a cupboard full of them, she said.

“ya know what she told me after i dropped ya off that night?”

“bubble wrap her next time?”

“no,” he playfully flicks your leg. “she said how much she liked ya, how she thought ya had great manners. she loved how sweet ya were too,” he says. “gran told me that night that i would never be bored with ya,”

you grin. “and gave you been bored?”

“not recently,” he teases. “i have never been bored with you. i love sharin’ this life with ya, no matter what we’re doin’,” he sits up next to you and wraps his arm around you.

“even dishes?” you rest your head on his shoulder and he chuckles. as long as you’ve known him, that’s been his least favorite chore.

“even dishes,” he nods and takes a sip from his glass. “do ya wanna go for a drive?”

you eye his truck, still as faded and beat up as the first time you saw it. except of course for the scratch on the tailgate from when you tried to drive it for the first time.

“always, shin. where are we heading tonight?” you dust off your legs and his before you walk towards the driveway.

“i didn’t have anywhere in mind,” he opens the door for you, as always, shutting it before walking to the drivers side. “is that alright?”

“it’s perfect,” you look out towards the fields, now slightly golden from the sinking sun. the irrigation sprinklers would be going off soon. “maybe we can stop by gran. i have some things from the garden to give her,”

kita nods, placing his hand on your thigh. the middle seat between the two of you won’t be empty for long. usually after a few minutes, you slide over to sit right next to him.

the two of you pull out of the driveway and down the road, taking in the farm land around you. rows and rows of corn, grass, wheat, and rice. some fields of livestock, some empty for the season. kita drives with one hand, and you can’t help but smile when the light catches his sparkling wedding band as it shines against his tan fingers.

you don’t know how you got so incredibly lucky all of those years ago. you’ve never wanted anyone else. no matter what, no matter where, you’re always going to choose kita. the man who holds your bags for you, picks you a flower on his walk from the fields, the man who has a polaroid of you on the dash of his truck.

the man who has loved you fully from the start.

#kita x reader #kita shinsuke #shinsuke kita #kita x reader fluff #kita fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff

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darling-i-read-it · 9 months

Text

Burns

Charlie Swan x fem!reader, Carlisle Cullen x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: age gap (for both men, both are legal but carlisle is like 223297493 years old so do with that what you’d like lol), burns (second and first degree), doctors office, me knowing too much about twilight

Author’s Note: IM WRITING A PART 2 RN BUT WANTED TO SEE IF YOU GUYS LIKED THIS <3 I literally randomly had a burst of inspo to write this and i lowkey love it…

Summary: You’re a waitress at the local diner to pay off tuition in the summer. You have a small crush on the chief of police who comes in to get his coffee from you. You thought that was all it was until you met the resident doctor when you have a mishap and now you’re stuck between two incredibly charming men that both have a little crush on you.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Forks, Washington was under a near constant cover of rain. You were aware of it when you woke up in the morning, prepared to see the dreary weather that greeted you through the window. You could smell the rain on the pavement before it came, see it in the clouds as they hovered above. You were always prepared for it, always ready for it.

Today, the sun was out. Summer usually calls for something more temperate. You found that those days weren’t necessarily unwelcome, but never your favorite. Everyone went outside when it was sunny. You could see people you hadn’t seen in ages. You never made an effort to see them in the first place for a reason. There was an uncharacteristic amount of skin showing. It may only be mid 70s but everyone suddenly acted like the ocean water was a relief to their burning skin.

You sweat easily, especially in the diner. The Lodge had little to no air conditioning and the sun brought people in droves. Everyone wanted a bite to eat. They all remembered the diner had milkshakes. It was never a great mix for a waitress.

You turned the corner on your heel, giving a quaint smile to Cora, your coworker. She looked like she was going to melt away.

“Do you think anyones gonna leave early today?” she asked quietly behind the counter. You shook your head. She had the coffee pot in her hand and was holding it tightly so it didn’t spill. You looked around the packed diner, laughter bubbling from sections where it normally was silent. You shook your head, giving her a sad look.

“We’re in for one.”

“I should’ve called out,” she muttered. “You should’ve called out. This place needs us.” You shook your head.

“You’ve gotta put food on the table,” you reminded her. She had a kid who was going into middle school. You had met her when Cora brought her in, her headphones stuck in her ears and reading some trashy teen novel.

“Always the voice of reason,” she muttered. “Plus, you gotta pay tuition.”

“Don’t remind me.”

You were going to college in Seattle but always worked the summers back in Forks. You loved the little town despite its insanity. You found that most of it was quiet, even on louder days. Plus, it was always easy to find a job back home. You were practically shoved the waitress apron when you returned this summer. You had been doing it since you graduated high school, always trying to find something to keep yourself occupied. You were coming upon your senior year in college and the extra money helped immensely.

“Hey, your boyfriends here,” Cora teased. She pushed herself off the counter to refill someone’s coffee cup. You furrowed your brows in confusion even though you knew exactly who she meant.

You watched as chief of police Charlie Swan walked through the doors with a clink of the bell above his head. He met your eyes and gave you an awkward half wave, which you returned slightly more enthusiastically. He walked up to the counter, squeezing between the people sitting there. Someone said hello to him and he gave them a nod in acknowledgment.

“You guys are busy today huh?” he questioned, scoffing.

“Just a bit,” you admitted. His presence never ceased to bring butterflies to your stomach. Maybe you were harboring a small/not so small crush on the sheriff but you tried your best not to show it. You assured Cora it was just something silly for you to feel as you passed through your work day. Still, her eyes lingered on yours as she went around the counter to greet someone else because she knew you were busy. “It’s the sun.”

“Brings out all the loonies,” he said.

“I imagine you’re busy out there too.” He was always scanning around to make sure no one was doing anything wrong. His eyes flicked from you to the people beside him, then back to you.

“Taking my 15.”

“Just to see lil ol me?” you teased. Even as the words left your mouth you felt self conscious of them. This time though, he gave a half smile.

“You make the best coffee I’ve ever had,” he promised. You tried not to get flustered.

“Well, it looks like you need a double today, Sheriff.”

“Charlie, how many times do I have to tell you?” You rolled your eyes. He leaned against the diner counter even though there were no seats. You turned around, every other table lost in your mind. Cora would help you out until he left.

“Well Charlie, it might be too hot for a hot coffee. You could’ve gone to one of those fancy coffee shops,” you offered, grabbing a coffee pot.

“Yeah, can you imagine me ordering there? I have a hard enough time with you.”

“I think I get what you mean by now,” you joked. You poured him a cup and grabbed three sugars and two creams. “Anything else?”

“You always this quick with your service?” he questioned, looking at the people down the line who hadn’t gotten their food.

“I’m just the coffee girl with a pretty smile. I don’t control the food orders.” You handed him a stirring stick as he opened his sugar packets. “Plus, you’re the chief of police Charlie. I don’t wanna get arrested.” He chuckled, a real genuine laugh.

“I think I’ll let you off for this one.” You smiled at your success. The laugh was guaranteed to be the highlight of your shift.

“Thanks Charlie.” You turned back to the kitchen which was starting to call things out. “Anything else?”

“No ma’am.” He grabbed some cash out of his wallet. “Keep the change.”

“You’re my favorite customer Charlie,” you joked at his more than generous tip of 100%. He did a little salute with his finger and raised the cup to you.

“Go do your job otherwise you’re bound to get more angry customers than I am.”

You nodded once and bowed out of the conversation gracefully. You grabbed the food from behind you and started to bring it out. Cora gave you a look as you passed her, the smile plastered on your face a clear tell of your conversation.

“Peach cobbler,” you said to one of your regulars. She was a small old lady who always came in on Saturdays, at exactly the same time. You enjoyed talking with her and catching up on her life. She got the same thing each time and the consistency was something you appreciated. “Sorry it’s been slower today Miss. Heidi. The heat has the whole of Forks out!” She shook her head, brushing you off.

“No worries at all,” she assured you. “It’s not like I’m not gonna come back.” You shared in her shaky laughter. She picked up her fork just as you were about to leave and pointed it at Charlie. “You making heart eyes at the chief over there sweetheart?” You flushed immediately. Maybe you weren’t so great at hiding it.

“Maybe. But keep your mouth shut Heidi,” you whispered with a smile. She chuckled. Her eyes lingered on Charlie who was finishing his coffee already. He had started a conversation with the man beside him. Charlie seemed to know everyone in town.

“Aren’t you a little young for him?” You rolled your eyes.

“It’s perfectly constenting and legal,” you assured her. “I’m plenty older than his daughter if that’s what you’re gonna say.”

“I was gonna mention.” Her eyes wrinkled at the edges, shaking her head. Her movements didn’t feel like she was disagreeing with you. More so that she was gossiping with a friend, just girls being girls. “He had his heart broken by her mother, you know. He’s a good man.”

“Is that your consent Heidi? Because I don’t even know if he feels the same way.” Your voice was lighthearted. She grabbed your hand, her saggy skin feeling comforting.

“I wouldn’t worry too much sweetheart.” You scrunched your face a little and shook off her words. You were still on the clock.

“Enjoy your peach cobbler Heidi.”

You brushed your hair out of your face. The sun had finally subsided for the evening, giving way for the clouds. You embraced their presence, appreciating the way that the cool air felt on your overworked skin. Cora was still hanging around after her shift, waiting for her husband to come pick her up. You sat on the back steps of The Lodge, watching the trees sway.

“The air feels so crisp,” you muttered.

“You say the weirdest things,” she grumbled, laughing. She was leaning against the building. “It’s the trees.”

“I know.” You were going to leave right after work and finally drive back home but you needed a moment to sit and enjoy the day. It had been a long shift. Cora and you were officially trauma bonded.

“How was the chief?”

“Good,” you promised. “Sweet.”

“A guy can be sweet and catch criminals?”

“He’s assertive,” you argued. When Cora laughed she did it with her whole chest.

“Honey, you’re down bad.” You rolled your eyes and stood up. Cora’s eyes followed you as you did so, turning back to the door inside the diner. “You’re goin back into that hellhole?”

“Forgot my phone,” you said. “Also, I am not. It’s a work crush. I’m entitled to one! Just like you like the produce guy!”

“I do not like the produce guy. I think he’s hot. Big difference!” You rolled your eyes as you opened the door back inside. The heat hit you again, unpleasantly. You had to weave through the cooks to get back to the front. You couldn’t remember when you had put your phone down. You were making a phone call during your break. Maybe you had left it on hte steps outside after all?

“Hey Jerry?!” you called to the cook in the back.

“What?!”

“You seen my phone?”

“No! All I’ve seen are burgers!” You rolled your eyes harder this time and dipped underneath the counter to see if you had put it with the sugars and stuff. You let out an annoyed groan when it wasn’t there.

You turned too quick and ran right into the closing waitress. She was holding a hot pot of coffee and effectively spilled it all over you. You gasped involuntarily, the feeling of scorching coffee seeping through your clothes. The gasp turned into a seethe as you packed up. You could hear her speaking, the high pitched, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” reverberating off your eardrums. You had dropped coffee on yourself before. All you could think of was that you needed a towel and some cold water.

You turned on a dime and walked back to the kitchen. You turned on the sink back there and fumbled your hand around for a towel to use.

“Jerry, towel,” you mumbled, the burning skin now setting into a tingle. He turned his head around and saw you. He started to fumble around. You walked in front of him to grab the towel and just barely lost your balance, causing your hand to fly up onto the table.

Right onto the stove.

This time you yelped. The coffee was already forgotten as there was now more of an issue at hand.

“Woah dollface!” Jerry exclaimed. He grabbed your wrist because you were just staring at your red hand. You had put your entire palm down. You looked up at him, tears staining your eyes from pain, and he brought you over to the sink.

“Oh fuck,” you groaned as he put it under the cold water. It didn’t subside any pain, just added another sensation. “Jerry that hurts!”

“Hey Y/N, I have your phone in my apron.” Cora came through the door to witness you breathing heavily next to the sink, Jerry the cook practically holding you down.

“She burned her hand on the stove,” he explained.

“She spilled coffee on me,” you blubbered childishly. You could feel all your body parts at once, like you were on fire. You had no brain power to say anything else.

“Oh Jesus,” Cora muttered. She rushed forward, grabbing your wrist to look at it. “You gotta get this checked out honey.” You gave her a somber looking face. “I know, I know. I’ll take you. Where’s your car keys?” You reached in your apron with your non burnt hand. It was soaking wet from the coffee.

“Is she okay?” the waitress asked, sticking her head through the window.

“She burned her hand on the stove,” Jerry said.

“She what?!”

Cora put her hand on your back, leading you out the door. You took deep breaths, in through your nose and out through your mouth. You were fine. You were gonna be fine.

“I’ll be okay,” you whispered. “You have to g-”

“I’ll have Steven do it,” she said. Her husband. You gave her a look of pure thankfulness as she helped you into the passenger seat of her car.

“I really don’t have to go to the hospital over this,” you tried to say.

“I know you don’t. But I think it’s safer than waiting.” You put your head against your headrest.

Cora dragged you by your free arm to the front desk. She was the one who gave your name and your information as you stood beside her, holding your hand. You looked like a mess, given the coffee all over you. You were sure this could all just be fixed by some water and ointment from the store but Cora insisted.

She rambled on about how a family member hadn’t gone in for a burn and it ended up being more severe then they thought, damaging below the skin. Her words were not comforting.

Eventually they called you back to be looked at. You sat on an exam table with a thin paper on top. A nurse had come in to check on you and give you something for your hand while you waited for the doctor.

You were in a row of beds. Cora pulled the curtains aside to give you privacy.

“I really don’t think that’s necessary,” you said.

“They don't get to know all your business. HIPAA or whatever.” You squinted.

“I don’t think-”

“Ladies.” Carlisle Cullen stepped through the curtain at the open side. He was holding a clipboard, a charming smile plastered on his face. Your breath hitched at the sight of him. He was gorgeous. “Y/N, I hear you burned your hand.” You nodded.

“And her chest,” Cora muttered. She must have noticed Carlisle’s looks as well. Or maybe she just noticed your reaction to him. You cleared your throat.

“I had coffee spilled on me.”

“No, you should check it out. It’s bad.” You gave a look. Carlisle’s smile remained, shaking his head. You had heard of him but never had a reason to come out and see him. You wouldn’t even call this a valid reason.

“Sounds like an awful case of bad luck.” You nodded. “Can I take a look?” He sat on a spinny chair and pulled it towards you. You extended your hand to him.

“I’m gonna go call Steven,” she said to you. You nodded. She patted your back, her eyes lingering on your doctor even as she left. Carlisle held your hand in his, gently looking it over. You looked down at him.

“A stove did this?”

“Yeah. It was dumb,” you promised. “I lost my balance looking for a rag for the coffee burn.”

“And that’s okay?” You nodded.

“I think. I mean, my hand feels way worse,” you assured him.

“Your friend seems to think otherwise.”

“Cora’s dramatic by nature.” He laughed gently.

“Well the stove fought back.” He wheeled backwards towards the table beside your bed. “It looks like second degree burns on your hand. I’ll send you home with some ointment for it and you’ll wanna wrap it up so that you don’t get it caught on your clothes or anything.” You nodded. “I’ll wrap it for you first, show you how to do it.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” He stood up and fumbled in the desks drawer. “Are you sure you don’t want me to check on the coffee burns?” He glanced back at you. You looked down at your shirt. It had mostly gotten your stomach. You could still feel pain there, probably driven by the fact you never got to clean it off.

“If you think it’ll help?”

“Stomach burns are interesting just because of their placement. It’s harder to wrap them. I think it would be beneficial for me to make sure they’re only first degree, if anything.” You nodded. You would listen to him read the phone book.

“Okay.” He walked back over. Before even touching your shirt he made eye contact with you.

“Only if you’re comfortable. I can wait till your friend comes back if you want me to.” You shook your head.

“I’m okay!” you promised. You cleared your throat and grabbed the hem of your shirt. You carefully lifted it up over your torso, holding it just above the wet spot. Carlisle’s eyes went down to your body.

“You said the hand hurt more?”

“By far.”

“Can I touch you?” Please. You cleared your throat again.

“Sure.” He put an icy hand on your hip, lightly brushing your burn with his thumb.

“How much does that hurt? Scale one to ten?”

“Five.” He applied more pressure.

“Now?”

“Seven. Your hands are really cold, which could be worsening the effects,” you joked. He chuckled, his lips turning up a bit.

“Sorry about that.” He backed up a bit. You put your shirt back down. “Those are first degree burns. It only hit in some spots. Should feel numb or touchy for a couple days. You can put the ointment there too but you shouldn’t have to wrap it up.”

“The hand needs it.”

“The hand needs it,” he agreed. He had put some stuff on the counter, which he now took in his hands. He squeezed something out a bottle and put a bit of it on his finger, taking your hand back in his. “Let me know if the pressure is too much.”

You watched him, your free hands fingers curled under the bed you were sitting on. He gently covered your hand, using such a light touch that it was like he was barely there.

“You’re good at this.”

“It’s my job,” he said, smiling. “Are you from out of town? I don’t think I’ve had you in here before.”

“Just lucky,” you quipped. “I go to college in Seattle too so I’m usually out there.” He nodded slowly.

“Fancy.”

“The drive back is beautiful.” He nodded slowly. His hand lingered on yours as he examined his work. “So is this town.”

“Do you work at the diner?”

“Yeah! That’s where I got this beauty.” He scooted back, grabbing the bandages.

“I think my son’s seen you there. He’s graduating high school in a year and likes his seclusion,” he explained.

“Son?” you asked.

“Edward.”

“No, I’m just stunned you have a child. You look far too young,” you said, laughing incredibly. He grinned sheepishly. You tried not to think of him being married or the lack of ring on his finger.

“He’s technically my foster son,” he described.

“I see. Do you do it all on your own?” You winced. That was aggressive. “I don’t mean to pry.” “It’s alright,” he said, shaking his head, completely cool. “Yes, they’re all under my care. I haven’t found the right one quite yet. Plus, she’d have to take on more than a couple stragglers with me.” His eyes flicked up to yours. They met for a moment longer than they should have. You had to look away.

“Sounds like a task.”

“It’s definitely not for everyone.” He tightened your bandage. “There. I’ll send you home with some of this, it’ll be sent to wherever you get your prescriptions.” He stepped back from you. “Try to be careful around stoves next time.”

“Yes sir.” He gave you one more look, a kind hearted smile and then was on his way. You followed him until he was gone out of view. You were glad he hadn’t checked your pulse because you were sure it was beating out of your chest. Cora came around the corner.

“He’s too old for you too,” she said. You laughed dryly, shaking your head. You could practically still feel his touch on your hand. So gentle.

“You’ll learn to get used to it,” you teased her. She rolled her eyes. “Were you waiting out there the whole time?”

“Wanted to give you and Doctor Dreamy some alone time.”

“You’re such a wingwoman!”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell the Sheriff.”

Part 2

#carlisle cullen x reader #carlisle cullen x fem!reader #charlie swan x reader #charlie swan x fem!reader #carlisle cullen x reader x charlie swan #charlie swan x fem!reader x carlisle cullen #twilight imagines #twilight fanfiction

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