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cherry-leclerc · 15 days

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so long, london ☆ ln4

genre: angst, toxic relationship traits, fluff, humor, established relationship, one-sided, smut

word count: 7.3k

You've never been read so easily by someone until he entered your world. All is good, all is true love, but realistically, that all comes crumbling down. Leaving you with a series of doubts. The kind you ignore because why not?

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, m!receiving, f!receiving

inspired by this and this !

To be completely fair, the accent wasn’t all that familiar to you. It’s odd, then alluring, then it makes you curl a brow. Australian? British? Irish—no, that’s too far off, ridiculous, really.

It’s the end of spring, which means it’s also the start of summer, which also means your job is in full force. Which is good if you’re still considering transferring to London to study abroad. You were, thank you very much, which is why you needed a shit load of money.

Being a waitress isn’t all that bad; the view was breathtaking. Laguna Beach has always been and always will be. It’s impossible to take away its charm.

The diner is small, yet crowded, so it’s hard to get through with a stack of breakfast plates atop one another. A piece of bacon slips past you as you let out a curse, mentally noting to clean it up on your way back. “An order of pancakes, french toast, two hashbrowns, bacon, four freshly squeezed orange juice—shit. I forgot, it was grapefruit, wasn’t it?”

Setting down the plates as carefully as you can with their assistance, you let out a sigh. “I’ll be right back—”

“It’s fine, mate. Orange juice is just as good.” His voice is soft and rough, all at once.

You halt, fixing your apron, awkwardly. “No, it was my mistake, I’ll fix it—”

Mmm, delicious, his friends chime in as they take a sip from the fresh beverage. The blue eyed boy signals with his dark brows. “Told you. Don’t worry about it.”

“Cool,” you mumble. “Enjoy. Oh, and let me know if you need anything.”

They don’t, which is quite upsetting since you were slightly curious to find out if you were right. Smoking a joint, you hear a loud cough. The mysterious brunette waves. “Tough shift?”

“Of course not, I love it.”

He nods. “I’m sure you do, but I’m also sure that’s not the complete truth.” He sits. “You’re on your break, I presume, which means you're not on the clock, which means I’m no longer a customer, but rather just a stranger. A stranger whom you will most likely never see again, so…”

A puff expands through the blue sky and yellow sun. You squint. “I’m worn out. Down. Worn down? Both.”

“You’re good at hiding it.”

A chuckle. “But you were able to notice which obviously means I’m not much of an actress.”

He motions over to the cigarette. You hesitantly hand it over to him as he sucks sharply and releases. Bemused, you make a face. “I was because I go through the same thing, oftentimes. More like all the time.” Another hit. “I understand.”

“I’m not sure whether I should feel seen or scared…” Humor laces your soft voice as you quirk a brow. He laughs.

“Seen, definitely.” A beat. “I’m Lando. Foreign visitor.”

Shaking his hand, you ease up, smiling, gently. “Nice to meet you, Lando—foreign visitor.” A pause. “Resident.”

“Really, now?” He plays along, teasing. You can hear it.

“Lucky, I know. Been here my entire life. Can’t complain.”

“I bet.”

“Yourself?”

Lando winces. “England. Bristol, specifically. Ever been?” Nope. A toothy grin. “Don’t—rains all day long, gloomy all year. It’s depressing, but…” He relaxes. “It’s home.”

Staring off into the waves, you cover your face from the strong breeze. Salt air splits your tongue in half as you wipe your mouth. “Your accent. It’s captivating. As soon as I heard it, I grew jealous.”

The Brit frowns. “Your accent is much better. Clean,” he adds and you let out a snort. Accent—what accent? He rolls his blue eyes. “That one. You might not consider it one, but it is. Very…pretty.” A rosy tint flourishes onto his cheeks. Summer heat, summer breeze, perhaps.

Retreating the roll from his hand, you stomp on it, letting the light die. “Thank you, Lando from England. You made my day.”

That’s the end, really. Just a nice encounter that still doesn’t make much sense, but you’re glad it happened. Normally, after a tiring shift, you borrow Benny’s surfboard and rush towards the killer waves. The soothing water releases a lot of the built up tension that lies between your shoulder blades.

Today isn’t much different. After getting yelled at for— “getting the fucking order wrong, bitch” —and— “my toddler just threw up, yes, oh, nevermind, had a…teensy accident” — you don’t second guess it. As soon as your skin connects to the warm temperature, you sigh in sweet relief.

“I need to get out, I need to get out, I need to—”

“You just got here, though. Plus, the water feels nice, don’t you think?”

Startled, you sit up on your board, rocking back and forth. With what looks to be a painful tan, Lando smiles, sheepishly. “Hello…again.”

“Are…” You look around, but the ocean is practically empty. “A-are you stalking me?”

His smile drops. “W-wh—no! Of course not! I saw you from afar, and I just thought…” He grimaces. “I should go.” Except he can’t. Every chance he tries to tread away, the waves only push him back. It’s comedic. “One sec…crap. One more—shit. Okay, two, two sec—”

“Ah, forget it, stay. Land of the free, no?” Rubbing your nose, you pull his paddle closer. “What brought you out here?”

“Heard it was a good day to attempt to surf. Tell you what—it’s not.”

A giggle escapes, then lessens. You furrow your brows. “Hold on a minute; are you teaching yourself? As in, no instructor? Just you? Alone? Solo?”

“Yeah, what about it?” he grumbles. “I can do it.”

You’re wheezing at this point, stomach clenching. “That’s nearly impossible! I’m mean, sort of, sort of not.” When his eyes don’t switch from being offended to getting the joke, you quickly snap your lips shut. “Can I teach you? It’s not that hard.”

He gapes, curls grow more and more. They’re cute, the way they bounce when he shakes his head. “And if it’s so easy then why can’t I just do it myself?”

“How long have you been trying?”

He burns up. “That’s not the point.”

“No, that’s exactly my point. You need a mentor, and lucky for you, I’m a surf instructor on the weekends. Come on.”

The twenty-four year old is not sure he even wants to be here, suffering from an overdose of embarrassment. Every single attempt ends up with him splashing straight into the clear water. He groans for the millionth time, clutching into his board. “I think I’m done for the day.”

You don’t fight him on it. His bruised nose makes you feel bad, and his chipped lip makes you want to giggle, so yeah, that’s enough. He can taste the salt water as he smacks his lips, trying to get rid of it. You click your tongue. “That doesn’t really do anything. Not until you bathe and brush your teeth. Or rinse. Either or.”

He invites you to the mansion he’s rented for him and his friends, declaring that there would be endless amounts of alcohol, but when you decline, he rubs his jaw and grimaces. “Yeah, I’m not in the mood, either. Craving tacos?”

So, that’s what you two do; converse over an amazing meal. You can already note his skin shedding, but for some reason, it’s endearing. You even spot a couple of moles. Chewing rapidly to try and forget about the spice, he pants. “London, eh?”

“England,” you correct. He deadpans you.

“That’s basically the same thing. It’s along the same lines. Just like Monaco and Paris.”

You shrug. “London—yes.”

Sniffling, he reaches for his can of Coke. Gasping left and right, he winks to the best of his ability. “You’re a smart girl…I think. And you’ll get in…I think.”

“Gee, thanks, I think.”

He laughs. “I hope you get in. I really do, Laguna Resident.” You roll your eyes. “You won’t miss all of this, though?” The warmth, the people, everything. A bittersweet feeling runs through your veins, momentarily, before you wave him off.

“Nothing is holding me back, forcing me to stay. I’ll be just fine.”

Finally, he calms down, occasionally sneezing. The way he excuses himself makes him look very polished. Lando licks his lips clean, drumming his long fingers against his lap. Later you would find out this would be his nervous tick. A teller. A good one, at most.

“Call me? When you get there, I mean—if you want to, of course. No pressure.”

And while you may not have a reason to be a part of SoCal anymore, something else seemed to tug you to the other side of the world. “Might have to take your word for it.”

“Good.”

You grin, looking down onto your lap. Later he’d know this was your way of avoiding his stare. Butterflies, for the meantime. “Good.”

“No, no, no! You were supposed to—forget it, nevermind. Did you at least—” The stream flatlines and Lando is left speechless, headset drooping down, inch by inch. The way his eyes furiously twitch is enough for you to peck his cheek.

“It’s late anyways. Come on, let's go to bed.”

There’s utter nonsense, and mumbo-jumbo that he spills as he reluctantly follows. If Max had done this, and if Max had done that. Pouting, you cradle his face, forcing him to look at you. “You’re telling me you wish you would still rather be playing than spend time with me?” You gently slap his face and he smiles, sheepishly. “I’m hurt.”

“No, no, you’re right. Of course I want to spend time with you.” When you peck his nose, he sighs. You can faintly smell the cheap beer, courtesy of said Max, so you let out a screech, creating a distance.

“Never mind. I don’t want to spend time with you, you reek.” His smile drops and you pinch the tip of your nose. “Reek, I tell you. Go brush your teeth!”

The McLaren driver snarls, then makes his way over to your shared bathroom. “I remember when you used to be fun. Seems like a decade ago.”

“And make sure to floss!”

If you’re able to remember, you could openly admit that you did make that call. Actually, text. You got cold feet and sent a text last minute. You met up at the pub just around your dorm, the one that is only busy during the weekends, so is practically empty during the week. Hence, Wednesday night.

Wow. Your tan is gone, is the first thing he says when he sees you. It’s true. Being away from the California sun has completely changed you. A bit, but it did. Giggling, you accept his hug, finding warmth. London weather. “How was the move? I want to hear all about it.”

Oh, the move was as good as it could get. The airport lost two of my luggages, but it’s fine, I didn’t really need many dresses, because yes, you were right, it’s always gloomy. I miss Benny like a baby, but we always keep in touch—I’m actually going to visit him for his birthday. Which is in January? Yes…yes! January third.

“What about you? Work?”

First of all, can’t really consider it work when it’s fucking fun. Second of all, it’s quite swell. I’ve got a new teammate, which sort of sucks, but he’s nice. The car is a bit wonky, but I’m sure that’ll change throughout the course of the year. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

Conversations switched from having them on a steady stool in the pub, to having them in the comfort of his flat. Plus, you two were more open and honest with one another.

Benny, yeah, it’s pancreatic cancer, and no, I’m not okay.

The team is fucking shit. My arm still hurts from last week's crash, but I’ll be fine. Please, don’t you worry, love.

Lando is an absolute angel. He pays for your tickets back home, along with Benny’s treatment. He declines the help at first, but as soon as he meets your smiley boyfriend, he accepts. I’ll pay you back. Once I’m better. Lando laughs with a muppet dive. Of course—of course, Ben.

You take care of him and his injuries. Follow doctors orders. Ice at least twice a day. Don’t forget to take your pain meds. No, for the love of God, they’re not candy, sweetheart.

It’s the best and the worst. And it’s all yours.

He’s very much obsessed with Mila as soon as she’s born. He congratulates his brother and his sister-in-law once, and off he goes, straight to the newborn. It makes you fall in love even more, which you didn’t know was possible, but here you were.

“I say give it a year or two.”

“More like five. Come on, honey, be realistic.”

“I am! Can’t you tell he adores her?” Oliver scoffs. “He’s my brother. I would know.” His wife rolls her eyes, then moves on to snap a few pictures of Lando and Mila, then a thousand videos.

“Crap. I want one,” he mentions on the drive back home. He gently rubs his thumb over your leg; you shudder. “You saw me, you were a witness, I was a good enough babysitter!”

“Babysitter? You’d be a dad, not a babysitter,” you retort, though your wobbly grin is a dead giveaway. A long finger pokes at your ribs as you laugh, scooting as far enough away as the McLaren allows you to get. “One day. Just not now.”

And he knows that’s true. He’s busy with racing, you’re busy with school; it's irresponsible. Your confirmation was sweet though—it was enough. The Brit hums, continuing the drive with a bright smile.

“One day, then.”

Baby talk was a fun thing to dream about. To think, daydream. Marriage talk? Now that’s serious.

It started on a Sunday morning; a non-race week. He’s finally back home and you're ecstatic. He was too, but that slowly goes out the window when you rush him to the room. I like where this is going, he starts when you drag him along. You bite back a smile, waiting for his noise. “What the shit?” he yelps, pulling on his curls. Spinning to face you, your boyfriend groans. “Where’s all my gaming—sweetheart,” he softened his voice, softened his eyes. “Sweetheart…”

“It’s gone! Bye-bye, adios!” You twirl around the empty room. “You don’t need it, Lando. It was rotting your brain.”

The color from his vibrant face fades, leaving him to let out a delirious laugh. “No, no, it wasn’t. Wh-why would you do that?” He doubles over. “I’m going to be sick.”

After a while of letting him drown in a puddle of self-pity, you snicker. Blue eyes look up at you; furrowed thick brows. What? “They’re in the guest room. I just needed us to paint the walls.” Releasing a scream, Lando plunges for you, picking you up and spinning you around until you flop against his arms.

“Asshole!” you yell, smacking his arm. After a series of instructions, you both fall into a pattern. He focuses on the left side of the room and you focus on the left and the right. It just makes sense.

“Stick to your side,” he mumbles, pushing you away. You burn a laser to the back of his head. “I can feel you killing me—stop it.”

“Then quit drawing, you’re ruining it!” There’s a cat, a dog, a house, his racing car, you—you presume— and Mila for good measure, but he serves her no justice as she appears to be more of a blob. Going over it with a thick layer of paint, he curses to himself. As soon as he picks up the thin brush once again, you immediately set your foot down. “No, Lando, think before you commit.”

But he must not hear you—or ignores you—because suddenly he’s drawing something unrecognizable. You almost laugh when you guess it must be a donut, but when he draws the familiar rock, you come to a halt. “Stellar, no?”

“Hardly. Looks like more of a neck guard—next!”

But he pushes you away as soon as you reach over to cover it up. “I’m being serious. I’m mean, not now, but someday. Are you…” His voice drops, slowly, and he drums his fingers onto his thigh. Your lips turn upward. “...open to it? Getting married?”

“Well,” you start and his breath hitches, nervously tapping, awaiting for your response. Pressing your lips against his, you breathe out, and he groans. “I love you, Lando. I’m more than open to it.”

He sighs in relief, kissing you harder this time, with more emotion. “Good.” A beat. “Thank you.”

Slowly, but surely, you’re celebrating your three year anniversary—in Japan, a race week—but still. Yuki specifically gives you two a list of places to visit, so it makes everything a thousand percent easier. Fifth, he grunts, throwing his helmet onto the tiny bed in his motorhome. Screw it, I’m blowing my brains out.

“Hey now, quit talking like that.” A kiss. “I don’t care if you’re upset, I happen to be super duper proud.”

“It’s Super Trouper,” Oscar yells from the other side of the wall. “Don’t disrespect ABBA like that.

“Yeah,” Lando hums, pulling you in. “Don’t.”

“I’ll pull the trigger,” you warn.

He gasps, theatrically. “You wouldn’t dare…”

“Try me.”

“I already have—sweet.” His dirty implications makes you heat up and the Australian groans as he turns up his music. Lando snickers, changing quickly. “Happy Anniversary. It’s not everyday, you know?”

“I know,” you cheer, playing with your promise ring. You beam up at the bubbly Brit. “I just wish we were home. Celebrating in the comfort of our own place.”

He doesn’t mention it, but you considering London your home—despite not growing up there—makes him crush on you harder than ever before; it's sickening. Clapping loudly, he stands up, reaching for your hand. “Then let's go back home. What’s keeping us here?”

“Yuki,” you grunt, taking his open hand. “We’d be breaking his heart, Lan. We need to do these twenty-one things.”

“Ah, he’ll understand.” A pause. “If he doesn’t then we’ll just buy his next meal to make up for it.”

Cackling, you peck his face, over and over until he pushes you away in a jokeful manner. “This is why I love you, Lando Norris!”

And he’s content, admiring the way you pack happily. He’s never seen someone so giddy to spend fourteen hours on a plane just to curl into the comfort of their bed. He’s just never seen or met anyone like you.

It was perfect.

As soon as he picks up his own digital camera, he’s in love. Part of you would be jealous, definitely, if it weren’t for him stopping to take a thousand pictures of you. One in the McLaren garage, next to his car. One where you balance yourself on a swing, eventually falling straight onto your face. One of your newly bruised nose, due to the fall. One where you’re sleeping, drooling like a—

“Delete that, I don’t even want to see it!”

Shaking his head full of curls, he runs away. “No! I happen to love it!”

“Lando!”

“You look adorable.”

“Fuck you, I’m leaving. Spend the night alone, loser.”

You don’t end up keeping your word. You get your revenge, eventually, when you pie him in his sleep. He nearly chokes, but it’s all in good fun, according to you.

But neither of you would have it any other way. You just happen to be his muse.

His greediness starts to show overnight, nearly. It catches you off guard, leaving you like a lost dog. The worst part is that it’s not directed directly at you, per se, but it felt like it. Most of the time, you’d deal with this by talking to him until he calms down, by making him a cup chamomile tea, because—

“It doesn’t help!” He paces the small room, throwing his gloves harshly against the wall.

“Studies prove—”

“Studies my ass.” An angry huff. “I just need to be alone. For a while.”

And it also catches you off guard how you don’t fight him back on it. Instead, you’re glad, fleeing out the door, straight to God knows where. Strolling, you twist and turn the thin band.

Where are you going?

“You said you wanted to be…” Except it’s not Lando. George quirks a dark brow. You gulp, forcing a smile. “I’m sorry. I thought you were…” A painful pause. “I thought you were Lando.”

“Must be the accent.” He laughs. “Don’t worry about it. Carmen actually made me chase you down. Said she wants your opinion with something about the wedding. You know her—perfectionist.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course.” Throwing your hair over your shoulder, you beam brighter this time, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I have plenty of time.”

He’s rude when he finds you. Well, not really, but even your friends notice it. I’m telling him to wear a simple black and white suit. A bow or a tie, he can decide, but he’s insisting on wearing white and I’m like hello? You giggle, orbs moving to find George with a playful glare.

“Why can you be the only one wearing white? It’s this some kind of rule or?”

“No, but it’s weird!” Carmen turns to face you, desperate eyes begging for backup. “Come on! Tell him it’s weird.”

Plump lips flicker upward. “I don’t know, George, it is a b—”

“Awful. You’re going to steal all the attention away from Caren and you’re going to look horrible. Just go with a traditional suit.”

The Mercedes driver doesn’t pay any attention to what was just said to him, but you and Carmen do, and that’s probably worse. You can tell she’s bothered by your boyfriend's unwanted opinion and for him going after her fiancé, so you briskly stand up. “Sweetheart, are you, um…ready to go?”

The Brit nods, fixing his bag that lays over his shoulder. “That’s why I’m here, no? Could have let me know you were leaving, too.” There’s tension in his voice; annoyance. “Also, I forgot your bag. I’ll wait for you here.”

His implication makes you queasy. You blink hastily. “Of course.” Turning to the older couple, you smile politely. “Um…text me, yeah? Let me know what you two decide on.”

Once you rush off, Carmen narrows her usually kind eyes, hard. George is quick, placing a steady hand onto her lap, and clears his throat. “You know, just because you didn’t place a podium for once doesn’t mean you get to act like a jerk. Seriously.”

Lando chooses to ignore his comment, bidding goodbye, and strolls over to find you, flustered. “Now I’m ready,” you confirm with a weak smile. The Brit laces his fingers through yours and brings it up to his mouth, pressing a warm kiss.

“You know I love you, right?”

“I do. I do know.”

He’s trying to be more gentle, you can tell. With his words, with his actions. It reminds you why you chose him. He had apologized after a quiet night, settling with what he had done. How he had treated you and his friends. George is quick to accept his apology, and you were too.

“I didn’t mean it,” he groans quietly, chest pressed against yours as you ride him. “I s-shouldn’t have—fuck.” The way you clench around him tightly makes his head spin. A whine escapes your swollen lips as you nod, fast, then slow, then staggered. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you pant, finally opening your eyes to find him already looking up at you. He squeezes your hips harder, keeping you firm. “You were upset, that’s all. I get it.”

She gets it, he remembers thinking, considering himself lucky for having a girlfriend who understands. His highs. His lows. His wins. He loses. This—this is why you were the one.

But once again, his lack of display is what reluctantly pushes you away.

Then back in.

It’s been three months of him not even picking up his camera. Maybe he’s just too lazy to develop his pictures, so you do it for him. There’s really no excuse. That’s what you say with light humor when you push it towards his chest, but he only cocks his head to the side. “I never asked for you to do that.”

Your stomach churns. You lick your chapped lips. “You don’t need to. I just…did it. Thought it might help get you out of your slump.”

This pushes something in him as he narrows his brows like a set of sharp knives. “Slump?” A scoff. “What? Because I haven’t been able to get a win?”

“What?” You’re dazed. “No.” You’re confused. “No, why would you say that?”

“I don’t know—why would you?”

“I mean it because you’ve been down, that’s it. Not because…” When his eyes don’t change, and your heart continues to pound, you flip him a smile. “You’re right. My choice of words weren’t the best. I’m sorry.”

The blue eyed boy clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth once, then sets the camera to his side. “Whatever, it’s fine, I guess.” And suddenly he’s making his way to his gaming room, leaving you with wide eyes and a bruised heart.

“Wait!” Carefully, you pick up the small camera, extending it out towards him. “Wh-what do you want me to do? Should I pack it into your suitcase? Or maybe I could—”

“Pack it, yes, but into a box and put it in the attic.” He continues his march. “I lost interest a long time ago, either way.”

You’re not dazed. You’re not confused.

You’re broken hearted.

You would think that you would have learned by now. He loves you, damn it. He’s just having a tough time proving it, but it’s fine, stuff like this happens all the time.

“Hello, darling,” Carmen greets, pulling you away from your trance. The camera pans over to Lance, Carlos, and Lando. She gingerly takes the spot next to you. “Feeling alright? Lost a bit of weight and color.” Her concern can’t be hidden behind even the tallest mountain.

Been working out. London is gloomy all day long. Haven’t gotten proper Vitamin D. Looking down onto your lap, you twirl your fingers. Over and under, over and under, over and un—

Her hands feel warm against yours and you can’t help but flinch, instinctively needing to pull away, but she holds on tighter. Not even your boyfriend's hands have felt as warm as hers; not in a very long time. “You can talk to me. Anytime.” Eyes remain downward, watering, so, like most nights before bed, you blink them away. Hard, fast, and cruel.

“Have you chosen the song you want to be for your guys’ first dance?”

She remains still for a second, focuses directly into your soul and you blink faster before she has a chance to decode you. She always did. “We have. My Funny Valentine. Hear this, Daniel wants to sing it. With a band and the whole thing. Nightmare.”

And you’re glad for having her stories to distract you from your feelings, because silly is what they are. Childish. False. It’s only until the end of the race where you two realize you hadn’t been paying attention. As soon as George walks in through those doors, he jumps up and down. “Hey. Top five!”

“That’s my boy!”

You feel like a creep watching them kiss with sweet emotion you can’t help but miss and crave. Your eyes flicker over to the flat screen T.V. and you’re shooting up from your seat. “Shit! I have to go!”

He’s in the middle of a speech of some sort when you rush in gasping for air. Sheepishly, you wave, then scoot closer to Zak who gives you a quick side hug. Everyone claps and then he’s making his way to—

Not you.

First it’s Zak, then he squeezes by. Then it’s his entire team. Then it’s Oscar. Then it’s Carlos, which is the last straw because he’s not even supposed to be here. “Mind if I squeeze in?” you squeak. The Spaniard shakes his head.

“Be my guest. I should leave anyway.” “Are you sure?” Lando quips. “Why don’t you stay?”

Brown pity eyes dance over to where you look down, then settle with a wobbly smile. “I, um…I actually have a few emails to respond to. Stay, Carlos.” It’s pathetic and embarrassing how he’s the only one who convinces you to stick around. Not even your own boyfriend. Though his hand remains by your side, it feels all for show, which it is because as soon as a few fans take a couple of pictures of you two, he finally retreats his arm.

Once the Ferrari driver finally jogs away, Lando turns to face you. “Where were you?”

“I was watching the race.” Your heart beats faster.

“Liar. Your lips just did the thing.” A halt. “What thing?”

“There! There it is again! You didn’t watch it, did you?”

Taking his palms into your own, you kiss them, feverishly. “I was, but then Carmen came over, and we started to talk, and then one thing led to another and…” Blue eyes stare down, empty. You grimace. “I’m so sorry, Lando. You got second place and I wasn’t there to celebrate. I’m so sorry.”

And perhaps he feels he already made you suffer enough with his ignorance, or maybe he was still high off his accomplishment, but it surprises you when he leans down to peck your forehead. “Just don’t let it happen again, yeah?”

You let out a breath of relief. “Pinky swear.”

He laughs, ruffling your hair. “Ah, see, I don’t believe in pinky promises.”

“Take my word for it then.”

He winks. “Good enough.”

I can’t believe we haven’t had a sunny day in weeks! Flipping over to face him, you pout. Weeks! That’s bonkers.

The Brit hums against his blankets, against you. It’s officially been a year since you two have been dating and it honestly felt surreal. Especially in moments like these. The kind where he was just yours.

I tried to warn you.

You groan, pressing your cheek against his firm chest. His heartbeat is slow and steady, indicating he’s half asleep, indicating you were too awake. Indicating you should probably go to sleep, too.

Guess I’ll just have to learn to live with it.

Guess so.

You know…I sort of love it.

You say so because you haven’t lived here your whole life.

I could easily, you want to confess. If it’s with you, then yes, I can. But it’s too soon and you don’t want to scare him off. Not when things were a dream. Cloudy, sunny, rainy, sunshine—I don’t care. I have a good enough reason to stay.

He vibrates due to his chuckle and you giggle due to his chuckle. Look at you being all cute.

Not trying to be cute, just speaking my truth.

In one motion, he flips over you, hovering. You love it? Like truly?

I love it. I truly love it.

Make me believe it.

Are my words not enough?

He grins, eyes crinkling. I’m more of a pinky promise type of guy.

You lift your small finger and he’s fast to wrap his own around it. Pinky swear. I love you and London.

And it was true. It was true for a while.

It all came crashing down on you, really. It was alarming, yet you had expected it. It was lonely, but survivable. It came in phases. You first noticed the doubt a bit after your third year anniversary, but no, he loves me. I know he does.

But you were good at pushing it all away; far, far, and further. Until you couldn't think about it anymore, even if you tried. His acts were a suck punch, though. Everytime you started to heal and stand up, he only sent a new one. A stronger one. But, hey, no—he loves me. He only says it every night.

Like last Monday night. When he fucked you in his hotel room.

Or last Thursday. When he went down on you under the table.

Or Friday. When you sucked his cock in the shower.

All right before bed.

God, I fucking love you so much. Hot cum shoots down your throat and he groans like a madman. Love you so, so much. You can’t even begin to imagine.

So, when your friends ask and check up on you, that's what you say. Yes, he reminds me everyday. He means it. Don’t worry, we’re doing better than ever.

The second comes in like a slap to the face. He had just done what you consider a low blow, but no—he’ll make up for it. He always does.

“Bullshit.” You blink your hot tears away. Carmen never—ever—curses. She’s too classy for any of that, so it’s almost funny to hear it now. But it’s not, not really. She sighs, rubbing her temples. You and your problems were stressing her out, God, how could you be so selfish?

“Forget I said anything. I’m being a fucking crybaby—”

“No. You’re not.” It seems like she’s choosing her choice of words, delicately. “You have every right to be upset. Every. Single. Right.”

And for the first time in a while, you feel completely seen. Heard. Understood. And that was a lot, but it must have been what you needed, because suddenly, you were spilling the ugly truth. The reason why you didn’t attend the last race. Or the one before that one.

The reason why she and George found you clutching onto your chest that night in Vegas. Forgot my keys, you giggled. You two have fun! Don’t worry about me.

Carmen is older, wiser, and so fucking mature. You love it. But you hate it because now that you sit here with more of an open mind and less defense, you blink like a lost kid at the grocery store. “You love him.”

A whimper. “I adore him.”

“A lot?”

“Infinitely.”

“But?”

Another whimper, louder this time, more wet. “He makes me sad sometimes. Is that normal?” “It is—” And it’s the delusion that always makes you stay. You’re quick to swallow it down, eager and fast. It’s all you need to hear. Carmen shakes her head. “But not to this extent. You get sad over them forgetting your favorite drink order, or when they forget to pack your heels.” An unwanted pause. The kind that gives you the room to overthink. “Not because they locked you out. Or because they forgot your anniversary.”

And she won’t admit—not when you were already so broken—but Lando hadn’t forgotten.

She likes wine, fuck, she’s obsessed with that sparkly shit. Wine testing! We could go wine tasting and I could do it there. He twidles with the ring box. Is that good?

George raises a playful brow before releasing a laugh. It sounds great. As long as you have a nice place to take Instagram pictures, then you’re set to go. Chicks love that. Isn’t that right, love?

But she pinches her lips, forcing a smile to the younger Brit. Lando lets out a shaky breath. It’s about to be our four year anniversary—it’ll be perfect. I’ll make sure.

So, yes, she knows he loves you. But that still doesn’t make the way he treats you right. What kind of love was that? Sobbing loudly, you push your hair back. “But you don’t get it! When he’s good…” Her eyes soften and yours grows more glassy. “...he’s so good.”

“Is it worth the pain, though?”

The third one is the breaking point you had been avoiding for so long. The day started out gray, either way, and not just because of the dark London weather. Dragging your feet to the end of the bed, you tremble. You got the call at four a.m. and those are never good, so why were you shocked to hear from Benny’s son?

“Oh, baby…” He pulls you atop his lap, kissing your temple. “I know how much he meant to you.”

“I still owe him a surfboard. The expensive kind, too.” He quirks a confused brow, but you continue staring off into space. “They stole the last one. The one he always lent to me. His mom had gifted it to him.”

“When did this happen?” he questions, trying to keep you talking because that sounds like a good idea. To get your mind off things.

You hum. “Last January; his birthday weekend.”

“Birthday weekend? I don’t recall—” “You weren’t there.” He doesn’t have to remember to know that’s true. It's become a habit of his nowadays and now he’s feeling guilty. Another hum, this time sadder than the prior. “He was going to teach you how to grill steak, just the way I like it.”

His stomach churns. “And how do you like it?” A beat. “I don’t remember. Ask Benny.” Then you’re crying like a newborn.Worse, actually. But he holds you through it all. So maybe this was do-able. He was nice, after all. You could stick with him forever and you’d be grateful. After what seems like a decade, you finally calm down, though your nose keeps runny. “The funeral is later this week. Are we going?” You were, with no fucking doubt, but you just wanted him to say it. There— on the tip of his tongue. You can spot it and he could taste it.

“Sweetheart…you know I have a race.” You didn’t expect him to drop everything and venture off with you, but this cut deep. Still, you understood. Plus, the proposal was ditched the moment you got the eerie call. So, yes, everything was unbalanced, but it wasn’t your guys’ fault. It was just a twist of fate. Nothing you couldn’t handle; you’ve dealt with worse.

“Right. I can go by myself.” He feels bad—you know he does—but anything, really? “You can write a letter, maybe? Just a couple of words for his family. I know it’ll mean a lot.”

He chuckles. And you should have known at that very moment because it wasn’t one you’ve heard before. “Why would I? I barely even knew the guy.”

“Excuse me?”

The Brit continues tracing shapes onto your thigh. “I’m just saying! It sounds a bit weird coming from someone who spoke to him once. Twice at best.”

And you’re no longer dazed, no longer confused, no longer heartbroken.

You’re just angry.

Pushing yourself off him, you glare coldly. “Barely even knew…the guy? We Skyped with him over dinner! You paid his bills! You fucking attended his sons wedding! How could you be so…fucked.”

“Sure… He was a sweet lad, but do you really think they want to hear from me?”

“Maybe not, maybe they don’t give a flying fuck, but I do. Remind me why I loved you!”

He’s up now. His heart quickens, pierces through his skin. “Loved?”

You sigh, clutching your chest. “Love. I said love.”

A huff. “No, you definitely spoke in past tense—do you not love me anymore?”

“Lando…” “No. Just be upfront with me, I can handle it. Tell me now so I don’t waste my time any longer.”

Every uncertainty you ever had, every word of advice Carmen has given you comes crashing down. She was right. He’s keeping you around for good fun. For his benefit. “Your time? What about mine? You’re the one who’s been blocking me out these past couple months!” “That’s not true—”

“Fuck, you’re right—this past year. God Lando! Haven’t you noticed how good I am at apologizing now? My zombie appearance? You left me out in the hallway! All because of what? Because I didn’t tell you I was going out with the girls?” A sour laugh. “Wake up—it’s 2024. Since when are you a shitty masochist?”

His jaw clenched. “I was worried about you! It was fucking Vegas, what was I supposed to do? And for the love of God, this again. I. Didn’t. Hear. You. Knock.”

A peach seed forms onto your chin. Skin is flushed and tears stream down your face. But he’s fine. He’s tall and firm Hard headed. Without an ounce of regret. And you want to do it. You want to make him feel what you’ve felt.

“I got my degree…”

“Woo-fucking-hoo, we’re not talking about that right now.”

“I lived a few good years, filled with pure happiness.”

He pauses.

“But I see it now. Past all the gray clouds, I see it.” He can feel it coming and he’s desperate for you not to say it aloud, but you shrug it, face downward. “Nothing is holding me back to stay.”

His tone washes away like the Laguna waves as he gets closer to you, cradling your face. “Yes. Yes you do. You have me…”

“Lando, quit lying—I haven’t for a while now. I was just a trophy you didn’t want. One you got bored of.”

“That’s not—” “True?” A beat. “It is. And you know what also is? I don’t love you anymore.” The light in his eyes gave out, pitch black. He feels as if he’s going into cardiac arrest and you…you look at ease. Peaceful. Free. With a soft smile, you push his hands down. “I don’t think you love me anymore, either.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleads. “Please, don’t say that. Of course I love you.” Rushing over to his nightstand, he pulls out a box you only ever dreamt of. “You want proof—here! Take it! It’s yours anyways.”

“Where was this a year ago?” Opening the velvet box, you’re left with an inaudible gasp because of course it was gorgeous. And he feels a gist of hope when you place it onto your ring finger, but he slowly pales when it doesn’t fit.

“No. No. That’s your size. I know it is.” He takes it from you, analyzing it in an accusing manner. “I swear it was, I pinky…” The heater kicks on. “I swear.”

“It’s alright. This is the right ring…just not for me.” It shouldn’t affect you to see his cheeks grow splotchy, to hear his voice tremble like a kid who just skinned his knee against the pavement. But he was once your other half, so it does.

“I don’t want you to go…”

“I don’t either. I loved being here.”

“Then stay.” You purse your lips, then scrunch your nose. “It doesn’t love me, though. And I can’t go unwanted.”

If we start saving enough money then we could buy the house—you know—the one close enough to drive to your parents? Sweet, no?

Won’t they hear us fuck?

Ew, gross. No. I’d tape your mouth before I let that happen. You pinch his ear. This is your home.

And SoCal is yours, so why don’t we move there?

Because I don’t want to. I want to be with you and the people you love, in the place you love. Because I love you and I love the people you love, and I love London.

You’re quite literally perfect. I hope you know.

You make it clear everyday.

And I won’t ever stop. Because you deserve to know.

“This place is cold, the way you said it was. This place is gloomy, the way you said it was. But this place isn’t a home to me anymore…the way I once thought it was.”

Should he have been more careful—more caring—then he wouldn’t be here. This wouldn’t be happening, but it is. And it’s no one’s fault but his.

Sniffing, you rub your swollen eyes. “I’m going to pack my things and go to Benny’s funeral.” It's a declaration. He nods, attentively. “And I’m not coming back. Is that okay?”

No. It wasn’t okay. You’re tearing him in half, you’re stabbing his heart over and over again. You’re telling the truth and putting yourself first. Something he was awful at doing. What brought you two to this very moment in time.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I treated you the way I did.” I love you. “But if that’s your decision, then go on. Do what you need to do.” I love you.

“Good.” I love you. But I can’t say it aloud if not I’d stay forever.

You smile and he smiles back.

“Good.”

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bimbobaggins69 · 1 year

Text

Fooled round & fell in love (part four)

Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

summary: you’re in love with your best friend but your best friend thinks love is for losers, choosing to sleep around rather than settle down. You’ve had enough and you’re ready to move on from your feelings, luckily you find someone who might make that possible but does Eddie really hate love as much as he leads on?

warnings: filthy filthy smut 18+ MINORS DNI, dirty talk, daddy kink (sorry I’m a slut for it), slight perv!eddie, cocky eddie, unprotected sex, honestly it’s basically porn, angst

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has liked, commented and reblogged it really means so much to me. I am seriously shocked at how well this whole series has done, this is literally the first thing I’ve ever written so the fact that people love it is so special to me, so again thank you! 🙏🏻

“But s’kay, we’re here now and I’m gonna take such good care of you”

Eddie says while moving your soaked panties to the side, dipping his two fingers between your folds

“Fuck, I was right, you’re fucking soaked, princess” he says with lust blown eyes

“mmm” is all you can get out while Eddie gathers the wetness dripping from your hole and brings it back up to rub sloppy circles around your clit

“Oh my god!” You moan out as Eddie smirks down at you

“Not, god, but you can call me daddy” he says with a mischievous look on his face

You try to roll your eyes at his antics but fail when he slips a finger into your wet, warm hole instead your eyes close from the immense pleasure

His finger tip slides in and out of you a couple times until he’s moving it in deeper and curling it enough to hit that spot deep inside of you that you didn’t even know you had, then he’s slipping another finger in continuously hitting that spot as you begin to open your legs wider and grab at whatever you can, in this case the hair on the nape of his neck, which makes him moan out in pleasure

His fingers are now pounding into your pussy with the most delicious squelching sounds

“You hear that baby?” Eddie says looking deep into your eyes

“That’s how good daddy’s making you feel”

Your eyes roll back at his filthy words

“Fuck, I need to taste you y/n”

You weren’t sure what it was but something about Eddie declaring his desperation to eat your pussy while using your real name, not a pet name made you wanna submit to everything he said

“Yes, daddy please eat my pussy!” You moan out

Eddie let out the most guttural groan, and fuck was it sexy

Before you knew it he had already moved down between your thighs, he begins slipping your panties down your legs and rolling them off your ankles, Eddie stops and gets up going to his nightstand, he opens it and tosses your panties inside, closes it and then moves back between your thighs

At this point Eddie could do no wrong in your eyes, you were not at capacity to question him about anything, and he was loving the control he had over you, you’re usually a brat, always having something sassy to say, so the fact that you’re being so ready and willing to please him is driving him crazy, and making his cock so hard, it’s starting to hurt

After leaving a few chaste kisses to your thighs, Eddie grabs the back of your knees lifting your legs so high they almost touch the bed underneath your head, he sticks his tongue out and licks you from your dripping hole to your swollen clit, taking it in his mouth and sucking, he was so sloppy with his movements, but it felt fucking divine

He starts to shake his head while sucking at your clit and you just about lose it, grabbing onto the sheets and then grabbing a handful of his beautiful wavy locks

“EDDIE! HOLY SHIT!” You scream out

Eddie lifts his head to say “yeah that’s right, that’s the only name that should be leaving those pretty lips”

Then he’s diving back in to lick and suck on your clit until you can’t hold on any longer

“Eddie, baby I’m gunna c-cum!”

“Cum for daddy”

Was all you needed before your eyes were rolling back and you were clenching around nothing, the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had in your life

Once you can’t take anymore you grab a handful of his hair and bring him back up to you, but before you kiss him, you lick and suck on his lips tasting yourself

“mmm, I taste so good” you say in the most seductive voice that’s ever left your mouth

“Jesus, y/n I think your my dream girl” he says in amazement at your filthiness

Your heart bursts hearing his words, but you talk yourself down not wanting to get your hopes up, “he’s just saying that in the heat of the moment” you think to yourself

Before you could dive any further into those thoughts Eddie’s grabbing your chin and kissing you, not a sloppy, sexual kiss but a soft, intense and passionate kiss, you don’t think you’ve ever been kissed like this before and holy shit, it’s intensifying all the feelings you already had for him

He pulls away and you let out a little whine and Eddie thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever heard

“You miss me already?” He says while pulling his sweat pants down and letting his cock spring out, of course that little shit wasn’t wearing underwear

You couldn’t help but widen your eyes at the size, definitely the biggest you’d ever seen, you didn’t even know they could be this big if you were being honest but you weren’t very experienced in that area as you’ve only been with two other guys not including Randy for obvious reasons

Eddie noticed the way you were starring and smiled “like what you see, princess?”

You just nod in shocked silence

You’re wondering how he’s even going to fit inside you, but you’re ready for the challenge

Before you can over think it, you’re standing up and pushing Eddie to sit down on the bed

“What are you doing?” He says in surprise

But as soon as he sees you sink down to your knees he doesn’t need any further explaining

You look up at him as you take his big cock in your dainty hand, giving it a few strokes

Eddie is looking right back at you, letting out a shaky breath

In this moment you decided you wanted to give him the best head of his life, you weren’t super experienced but you knew enough, your competitive side coming out, you knew you had to be better than all of those girls before you, maybe you shouldn’t have been looking at it from that angle but you truly couldn’t help it

After you stroke his cock a couple more times you let spit pool in your mouth before you’re spitting a glob right on his tip, you start to move down with your hand smearing it all over his meaty shaft

He’s already moaning out like crazy and you haven’t even wrapped your lips around him yet

“Fuck, that’s a good girl” he moans out

You bite your lip at his words

“You like that, you wanna be my good girl? He says

You shake your head yes, pulling out the most innocent yet seductive look you could

It worked, Eddie couldn’t get enough of this side of you. He always wondered what fucking you would be like but he never thought you would end up being like this

So confident and sexy, he almost felt like he was having sex with a porn star.

Eddie knew you weren’t that experienced so you were impressing him immensely

Finally after your teasing you take the head of his cock into your mouth, lightly sucking, you continue to move down taking inch by inch into your mouth until he’s hitting the back of your throat, you bob your head a few times letting his tip continuously hit your throat, you gag a bit and then let his cock go with a pop, you have so much spit in your mouth after gagging you decide to spit on the tip again, as you’re smearing the spit all over while pumping it, you notice his balls looked lonely so you start stroking a little faster tightening your grip, as you do that you take one of his balls in your mouth

“JESUS FUCK!” He moans out as his eyes roll back into his head

Then he’s looking back down at you, your pretty eyes looking back at him as you stroke him and suck on his balls. Eddie knew he was in love with you already but holy shit after this he was never gunna let you go, he starts thinking about you and Randy and how he almost got to see you like this, he couldn’t let that happen again.

After you’ve given his balls enough attention you grab his cock putting it back in your mouth and deep throating, fucking him with your mouth at this point

“Fuck you’re such a good girl, fuck y/n you’re my best girl” he says with so much adoration

His words only egging you on

Finally Eddie can’t take it anymore, he has to be inside you, has to feel you wrapped around him

He grabs your hair and pulls you off of him, once you pull off of his dick you’re looking up at him, with your mouth and chin full of your spit, as he’s staring at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, you smile up at him so innocently like you didn’t just have his balls in your mouth

“Please let me fuck you now, baby?”

You did not have to be asked twice

You stand up on your feet, but as soon as you do Eddie is throwing you onto the mattress and assuming the position you started out in

“Condom?” Eddie asks checking to see what you wanted, if he’s being honest he’s never fucked a girl without one, but with you Eddie wanted to feel everything, he wanted to be impossibly close to you

“I need you to fuck me raw Eddie” you moan out to him in complete desperation

Your words alone could make him bust, he’s never felt that way before, so turned on that you could do or say anything and he’d be complete putty in your hand

Eddie grabs his cock and rubs it over your folds teasingly

Then he’s angling it into your tight hole, slowly pushing in inch by inch, your mouth falls open in a silent moan, stretching you out so nicely, you couldn’t help but writh a little bit beneath him, you’ve never felt such pleasure, once he’s finally bottomed out completely and you take a few breaths, he begins moving in and out at a agonizingly slow pace, you’re so horny you can’t even take it anymore you need him to pound you into oblivion

“Harder Eddie, I need you to pound my pussy, please!” You don’t know where any of this was coming from but Eddie was bringing this little sex demon out of you and you were not mad about it, it felt nice speaking up and asking for what you wanted, never feeling comfortable enough to do that with your two other partners

“Fuck, ok baby, I got you” he says as he starts to fuck into you harder, skin slapping and pretty moans coming from you both was all that could be heard in Eddie’s room

As Eddie pounded into you, he looked down into your eyes removing some of the hair that was in your face, he leans down and kisses you, same passionate, intense kiss like last time, he breaks the kiss again going back to looking you in the eyes, his pace starts to slow a bit and he’s catching his breath from fucking you so hard, his gaze is so intense you almost wanna look away, as he leans in more he whispers

“I love you y/n, so fucking much”

You couldn’t even believe what you had just heard, you felt like you were dreaming about to be awoken at any second, everything was almost too much and you were on the verge of your second orgasm

“I-I fuck Eddie, I love you too! I’ve loved you for so long” you do your best to get your words out between moans

With that, Eddie starts pounding into you again he can tell you’re teetering on the edge and he needs to make you cum before he does

“Uh, uh” is all that leaves your mouth as your eyes roll back

Eddie is so close and he almost can’t hold it any longer so he sucks his thumb into his mouth getting it nice and wet before he’s swiping it over your clit, your body starts to tense and shake and your moans are getting even louder, you turn your face into Eddie’s forearm that is resting by your head and bite into it as you have the most earth shattering orgasm to date

The bite you gave Eddie mixed with your walls spasming and gripping his cock has him pulling out and spurting white ropes of cum all over your pussy

As he cums he lets out the most sexiest and deepest moan that you wish you could record and play over and over again when you got home.

After you both catch your breaths and come down from your highs, Eddie gets up and heads to the bathroom for a towel to clean you up with

After he wipes you down he throws the towel into his hamper, pulls his sweats on and goes to lay down next to you pulling your body closer to his

He breaks the silence “I really meant that” he said almost too nervous to bring it up

You turn to face him, as you rub your nose against his, making him smile

“I meant it too” you said back

Before Eddie could say anything else there was a knock at the door

You get up and smooth out your clothes as Eddie gets up to head to the front door, as he opens it the same blonde from the party is pushing her way inside throwing her arms around him and kissing his neck “hey baby!” Leaves her mouth and he looks over at you as you stand there frozen in shock.

part 5

THANK YOU FOR READING

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navybrat817 · 11 months

Text

When We First Met

Pairing: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You reflect on the past and future as you wake up in Bucky's arms. Word Count: Over 1.4k Warnings: Light angst, tension, friends reconnecting, unrequited feelings (or so you think), slight feels (it's me), future fun, Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning) A/N: More Dreamboat and Butterfly from Where We Left Off. For Week 5 of Hot Bucky Summer for @buckybarnesevents . Theme - "When I first met you...". Thank you @targaryenvampireslayer for confirming to go with my gut on this one! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You opened your eyes with a sigh, the room darker than before and the rain still steady as it fell outside. Bucky was right when he said it wasn't letting up and you hadn't heard Steve or anyone else arrive. You also hadn't meant to fall asleep and weren't sure how long you were actually out for, but you were so comfortable and warm in his arms. You felt safe, like you belonged there.

If only.

With a tired, sad smile, you snuggled deeper into the sofa before you slowly turned your head and realized you were half sprawled out on top of Bucky who was sound asleep. With his size, it was a surprise that the two of you fit.

I wonder if he remembers how I used to fall asleep in his arms during late movie nights.

Before you could stop yourself, you brought a hand up to brush some of the hair away from his forehead. Your fingers moved to his cheek when he let out a content moan, a yearning settling in your heart when he leaned into your touch. The gentle rise and fall of his chest under your other hand brought another smile to your face. He appeared comfortable and relaxed in his state, like it was second nature to sleep like this. A small part of you wished it was because he was holding you.

And I'm still in my bikini.

As much as you didn't want to get up, you needed to get changed. Or at least have one of you check your phones to see if you heard from Steve. "Okay, I need my arm back," you whispered when you tried to slip free of Bucky's hold, but he only gripped you tighter in his sleepy state.

"Mmm. No," he groaned when he adjusted you to lay completely on top of him, his eyes still shut. Once satisfied that you weren't going anywhere, he tucked your head under his chin. "Stay."

A squeak fell from your lips when he shoved his knee between your thighs, his arms tightening more around you. As if you weren't already embarrassed by the sound, you could hardly breathe when his massive leg moved again right against your core. Your body stiffened as you did your best not to move, trying not to think about how good he smelled or how big he was.

What is the most unsexy thing I can think of when I'm laying on top of the sexiest man alive?

You let out a breath, staring at a spot on the wall as his hand rested just under where your bathing suit top tied together. He was just moving in his sleep. Nothing more. But he clearly didn't want you to go anywhere. You bit the inside of your cheek and wondered for a second if he thought you were Dot. Maybe part of him missed her.

Welp, that's a buzzkill.

You closed your eyes, your body somehow going a bit more lax as you mentally tortured youself. It was easy to imagine little scenarios of what the two of you could have, like days and nights of cuddling like this. How the hell were you going to make a week when you could barely make it a day? Was it some form of punishment for not telling him how you feel?

Love is a delicious torture and sweet agony.

"You awake, Butterfly?" he mumbled.

Butterfly.

Bucky was the only one who ever called you that. You hadn't heard the nickname in so long. You weren't sure why, but you turned your head to hide your face in his chest. Was it relief that he knew it was you he was holding? Nostalgia? Fear that if he caught a glimpse of your face that he’d see right through you?

"Yeah," you murmured. “You remember that name.”

"Course I do," he said, sounding a bit more awake. "When I first met you, you were wearing that pretty butterfly necklace. It was shining in the sun."

Vibrant and colorful, it was one of your favorite pieces of jewelry. “I still have it,” you said, smiling at the memory of him commenting on it. “But you didn’t call me ‘Butterfly’ immediately. You called me ‘doll’. So old fashioned.”

He chuckled, stretching his leg out and giving you a mixture of relief and loss. “I did, but you didn’t act like a doll. You were very much a butterfly, smiling and spreading out your arms as you spun around to dance.”

“I looked ridiculous,” you giggled, remembering how you just felt like dancing. So you did. You didn’t care if anyone stared at or judged you because you were happy at that moment.

When did I stop being brave?

“No, you didn’t. You looked like you were born to fly,” he whispered, swallowing hard enough that you heard it. “It was beautiful.”

If I was born to fly, you’re the gravity that brings me back to the ground.

“I don’t really dance anymore,” you said, not focusing on him calling your dancing beautifull.

It was the act he found beauty in, not you.

“I wish you did,” he said, something wistful in his voice that made you lift your head. There was remorse in the depths of his eyes and you wanted to chase it away.

“It gets a little lonely dancing by yourself,” you said, propping yourself up a bit more. You weren’t saying it to get sympathy. He didn’t owe you that and you didn’t want it. “Sometimes you need a partner, Dreamboat.”

His eyes crinkled as he let out a laugh. “Dreamboat. You remember, too.”

You groaned as you dropped your head to his chest. “I was tipsy when I said that,” you said against his warm skin, recalling how embarrassed you were the moment the name left your mouth because you couldn’t take it back.

He inhaled sharply, his fingers digging into your back before he spoke again. “Doesn’t matter. That’s what you called me and I’ll never let you forget it.”

“I also called you ‘Bucko’,” you reminded him when you lifted your head back up. “I grabbed your cheeks like this,” you said, framing his face with your hands. “And I said, ‘It’s Bucky! Bucko! Dreamboat!’.”

You giggled and for a moment it was like you were in sync again, but he didn’t laugh with you. There was a clench in his jaw and you thought you may have upset him. “Why didn’t I ever ask you to dance with me?” he questioned.

…What?

You pulled your hands away from his face like it burned you and sat back, trying to put a little distance between the two of you. He only moved with you, his face inches from yours. “You tell me.”

Bucky stared into your eyes as you waited for him to speak. You expected to feel panic, but you just wanted to know. That way you could at least process how he felt one way or another and figure out where to move forward with your friendship.

The front door swung open hard enough that it almost smacked the wall. “It’s really coming down out there!” Steve said, shaking out his wet hair as he dropped one of his bags. He stopped short when he spotted the two of you facing each other on the couch. “Oh. Hi.”

Great timing. Why is he smiling like that?

“Hi. Glad you made it,” you smiled back at Steve, albeit a shaky one as you threw the blanket back and got to your feet. Bucky reached for you, but you stepped back. You weren’t going to have this talk in front of anyone else. “I want some sort of explanation. You owe me that much,” was all you said before you headed for the stairs.

Each step you took, you felt Bucky’s eyes on you. So close yet so far away. As frustrating as the interruption was, you could wait a bit longer to talk. But for your own sake, the two of you needed to hash things out because you owed him the truth about how you felt, too. And that you wanted to be part of his life. but wouldn’t allow him to devalue you again.

No matter which way the discussion would go, he didn’t owe you his heart nor did he need to reciprocate your feelings. You would never demand that of him. Love in any form shouldn’t be an ultimatum.

You just hoped you were ready to accept the potential consequences once those feelings were out in the open.

Oh, Steve. Why? Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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jessybarnes · 9 months

Text

Forbidden Love

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader

Rating: 18+ Only

Word count: Over 5k

Tags: Acromantula, mentions of blood, death of a mythical creature, gore, angst, fluff, smut, bullying, broken bones, hippogriffs, unicorns, fluffy, centaurs, syringes, major character injury, near-death experience, age gap, teacher/18-year-old student relationship, unprotected sex, fingering, begging, forced reveal of feelings, forbidden forest, family drama, and I think that’s it.

Beta: @winecatsandpizza

A/N: This is a repost from one of my old Tumblr accounts. I altered the timeline a little to make this flow better. I realize that Gilderoy lost his memory during the Chamber of Secrets era. I also realize that Severus didn't take on the DADA teaching position until Harry's 6th year. I just wanted to make that clear for everyone. :) Enjoy!

"Hmm…difficult, very difficult. Mmm yes, lots of ambition and very loyal too. A hint of creativity, but you seem to mask it well with your bravery...”

As the sorting hat’s voice echoed throughout the Great Hall, your mind began to flood with the past week’s events.

It was the day after your eighteenth birthday when you discovered your Hogwarts letter. Your grandmother had been a great witch and even taught at Hogwarts after she finished her seventh year. From the moment you were born, she knew you were destined for good things. Your parents had forbidden her from using magic around you and even went so far as to hide your letter of acceptance on your eleventh birthday. It wasn’t until you were going through some of your childhood toys in the attic that you came across it.

The letter was stuck to the back of an old photo album, and the writing had nearly faded completely. You ran your fingers over the yellowing parchment, the tip of your index finger raising slightly as it slid over the sealing wax. You recognized the symbol immediately. Your grandmother had it all over her house, and you’d thought it to be your family’s crest. The wax gave way easily and you pulled the letter out as carefully as you could. Your heart began to race and your breath caught in your throat. The letter was for you! You had been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

You blinked and brought yourself back to reality, the hat seemed to be finishing up his assessment.

“...better make it...Slytherin!”

The table full of students to the far right of the hall erupted in cheer as you walked towards them. You took your seat and after the rest of the first years were sorted into their houses, the Headmaster approached the podium. He raised his hands and without saying a word, the whole room went silent.

“Welcome! Welcome, everyone! It is my great pleasure to start off a new school year with a few minor changes. As many of you know, Gilderoy Lockhart is no longer capable of teaching. It seems a memory charm backfired and he’s lost all memory of who he is. Be that as it may, I am very pleased to announce that our own Severus Snape will be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

Your eyes scanned the teachers at the head table and stopped when they landed on a man who looked slightly younger than the others. He stood and nodded ever so slightly before taking his seat again. Your gaze lingered on him as Professor Dumbledore continued on with his speech.

“Thus it’s only fitting that the one and only Professor Horace Slughorn takes Severus’ place as Potions teacher.”

Another professor stood up from the table and smiled as a round of applause reverberated off the walls.

“Now that we’ve determined who will be teaching what subject, I have an additional announcement to make. All students will refrain from entering the forbidden forest. Anyone who isn’t experienced enough to handle themselves will most certainly die a very horrible death. Now, without further interruption, let the feast begin!”

With a wave of his hand, the empty plates filled with a delicious-looking meal. You ate quietly as the other Slytherins talked and carried on. Every so often, you turned to look at the mysterious man with the all-black attire. Mysterious didn’t even begin to describe him. Even though it wasn’t classified as magic, you had always found yourself skilled in reading people.

He looked particularly confident, his shoulder-length, black hair bouncing slightly as he talked amongst the other teachers. There was just something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Was it pain? The very moment you thought the word to yourself, his eyes snapped up to yours. Horrified that you were caught staring, you quickly turned your attention to your plate. Had he read your mind?

Deciding not to dwell on it any longer, you continued eating your meal thinking about the new chapter in your life. Though you didn’t know much about Hogwarts and the world of magic, you did know that this house, in particular, had a bad reputation. Your grandmother was a Ravenclaw, and would sometimes divulge knowledge about the other houses. The one thing you remembered about Slytherin was that its founder believed only certain people should be allowed to attend this school and practice magic.

Purebloods.

You were the farthest thing from being a pureblood. In fact, you were what other witches and wizards would call a Muggle. That was another thing you learned from your grandma. Muggle was a term used to describe someone who had non-magic blood, or the less liked derogatory name, mud-blood. The fork in your left hand scraped across your plate as you pushed your food around aimlessly.

Why on Earth would the sorting hat put you in Slytherin?

Soon, dinner was over and the prefects led the students back to their respective common rooms. You followed the other female students to the girl’s dormitory and found your trunk and owl had already been brought in. Nova chirped and tilted her head when she saw you, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“Miss me already, sweetheart? Well, I missed you too.”

The soft feathers on her head slid between your fingers while you talked to her. Even though she didn’t talk back, it was always nice to feel like someone was listening.

You settled on your bed and began drawing in your sketchpad as the other girls in your room talked amongst themselves. Their conversation hardly registered with you, your focus solely on the drawing of Nova you were currently working on. It wasn’t until one of the other girls tapped you on your shoulder that you noticed they were talking to you.

“Hellooo? Were you even listening to us?”

You set your sketch pad next to you on the bed and looked up at the three girls staring at you intently.

“S-Sorry, I didn’t realize you were talking to me. I was um … I was focused on my drawing.”

The girl closest to you rolled her eyes and huffed impatiently.

“I said, why aren’t you eleven like the other first years?”

There it was, the question you knew would be asked eventually. You just didn’t think you’d have to answer it this soon.

“My um… Well, I suppose it’s because my parents hid my acceptance letter from me.”

The one with the blonde hair began to laugh.

“Why that’s absurd. Why anyone would hide a Hogwarts letter from their child is beyond me. Unless… wait… are you, not a pureblood?”

A sudden feeling of shame overtook you and your gaze wandered to your lap, a loose string on your blanket became instantly more interesting.

“I-I… Well, no… I’ve got non-magic parents actually.”

The third girl scoffed. “Daphne, can you believe they let scum like this into our house?”

Blondie, who you presumed to be Daphne, snatched your sketchbook off the bed and tore it in two, and laughed. “Serves her right. Mud-bloods don’t belong in Slytherin.”

She drew her wand and pushed the tip into the skin of your throat making your whole body quake in fear.

“Listen up you vile little wretch, you’d better not lose us any house points if you value your life at all. Understand?”

Tears pricked your eyes as you nodded quickly. “Y-Yes… Yes, I-I understand.”

She removed her wand and the two other girls followed close behind as they left the room. Closing your eyes, you took a few deep breaths trying to slow the rapid beating of your heart. A few minutes later, you let out a shaky breath and began to clean up the remnants of your sketch pad. Luckily, this was a brand new one and Daphne hadn’t torn up anything too valuable.

Once you were finished, you slipped on your shoes and held out your arm to Nova. She chirped happily and sidestepped to your shoulder. Staying in your room anywhere near the other Slytherin girls was the last thing you wanted to do, so you decided to explore the castle grounds a little before bed. After all, it was only Friday night, and classes didn’t start for another two weeks.

The crisp, fall air licked at your skin the moment you stepped out into the courtyard. It felt good to breathe the fresh air and you suspected that Nova felt the same. She immediately took flight and let out a happy screech. Part of you envied her. Being able to soar as high as the clouds away from all the negativity was something you could only dream of doing.

You wandered around the castle grounds until you spotted a hut nestled at the edge of a tree line. The stone exterior and the pointed roof reminded you of the fairytales your parents used to read as bedtime stories when you were little. Light grey smoke billowed out of the chimney and you could faintly hear someone humming. Curiosity got the better of you, and you soon found yourself at the foot of the steps.

Before you could knock, the front door swung open and none other than Hagrid looked down at you.

“Why ‘ello there, lass! Teh what do I owe yeh the pleasure?”

You’d only known him for a few hours, but you could tell that Hagrid had a big heart and good intentions.

“I just needed some fresh air that's all. Things are… a bit much in my house.”

Hagrid studied you as you spoke. It didn’t take a genius to know something was bothering you, and he saw right through the fake smile plastered on your face.

“Why don’t yeh come in fer a spot of tea? I can tell something is troublin’ yeh.”

It became a sort of routine, the evenings you’d spend with the Hogwarts groundskeeper. After Hagrid had learned the way the other Slytherins were treating you, he’d made it clear that you could spend the night in his spare room any time you needed to. You insisted on paying him for his hospitality, but he always refused. All he had ever asked in return was help taking care of the mythical creatures. Most would probably view it as a chore, but you found it extremely therapeutic.

Friday evening before school started, you noticed Hagrid was missing from the teacher’s table. After dinner, you jogged along the path to his house and noticed the lights inside his hut were off.

Hmm...that’s weird, you thought to yourself.

Normally, he’d be making a pot of tea right about now. Tentatively, you walked up the steps and lightly knocked on his door.

“Hagrid? Hey, are you home? It’s Y/N…” You tried the door, and it opened easily. “Hagrid? I’m coming in…”

Fang peeked at you over his paw and yawned lazily. Other than the glow of the fire, nothing showed signs that he was home. As quietly as you could you walked to the back towards his bedroom. There, wrapped up in blankets and looking beyond miserable, was the half-giant himself.

“Oh, Hagrid… what’s the matter? You look like you feel awful.”

He coughed and sneezed a few times before blowing his nose into a hankey. His skin was clammy, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“I’m sick, lass. Yeh shouldn’t come near me if ye know what’s good fer ya.”

Out of instinct you put the underside of your wrist against his forehead and grimaced.

“Hagrid, you’re burning up! Come on! We have to get you to Madame Pomfrey.”

You helped him stand and carefully started to lead him toward the castle. It took nearly fifteen minutes, but finally, you were able to get him to the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey motioned to a bed and helped you lay him down. She insisted that she keep him overnight so she could monitor him, but Hagrid was having none of it.

“No! Absolutely not! I can’t stay ‘ere overnight. Who’ll feed Fang an all me other beasts? Buckbeak ain’t the nicest Hippogriff when he’s missed a meal yeh know.”

Your hand came down to cover his as you looked him in the eyes.

“Hagrid, please...stay here and let Madame Pomfrey take care of you. I’ll take care of feeding them tonight, okay? It’s not like I haven’t helped you make your rounds for the past week and a half.”

The groundskeeper sighed with defeat and nodded.

“Alright Y/N, I’ll stay an let yeh take care o’ my pets, but yeh have ta promise me you’ll be careful.”

You gave him a soft smile and stood to smooth out your robes. “Don’t worry, Hagrid. I’ll be quick and efficient just like you taught me. I even made myself a list so I remember which animal eats what as well as where they’re all located. I’ve got this!”

Before he could change his mind, you hurried out of the room and back to his hut to grab what you needed. According to the list, you had five different species to feed tonight. The unicorns, Buckbeak the hippogriff, Fluffy the three-headed dog, the centaurs, and Aragog the acromantula.

None of these mythical beasts ever acted like they were harmful, but they weren’t to be taken lightly either. Not to mention you were with Hagrid every time you’d fed them before. After loading up the bags with their food, you made sure you had your wand before approaching the edge of the forest. It didn’t matter what time of day it was, the shadow from the trees always made the forest dark and a thin layer of mist lingered near the forest floor.

Fluffy was first on your list. His doghouse was about fifty feet within the forest. Brandishing your wand, you cast Lumos Maxima and took the trail to the west. A few minutes later, you could hear light snores echoing off the trees. Making sure you had the three slabs of meat at the ready, you whistled to get the giant beast’s attention.

"Fluffy! I got you some dinner!"

The dog's left head yawned enthusiastically and you couldn't help but chuckle.

"Alright, that's enough sleeping. It's time for some yummy meat!"

The middle head began to growl and bare its teeth at you while the one on the right shook its head back and forth violently.

"There we go, nice and easy…" You slowly got closer and gently set the slabs of meat within his reach before backing off."

You stuck around long enough to make sure he saw the food and then walked north towards the part of the forest where unicorns made their homes. It surprised you to learn that they preferred witches over wizards. Hagrid had told you that they were very fast, so much so that they could outrun a werewolf.

Instead of trying to seek them out, he set up feed pails around their homes and filled them with food. As you were filling the pails, you saw a golden blur out of the corner of your eye. It startled you at first, but then you remembered Hagrid telling you that unicorn fouls were gold in color.

Staying completely still, you waited until it poked its head out from behind the tree.

"Hi, sweetheart. You want some food?"

At the mention of food, the foul whinnied and slowly approached your outstretched hand. It broke your heart that these beautiful creatures were nearly extinct. You gave light scratches to the tufts of fur behind its ears, the serene moment nearly making you forget where you were.

After hand-feeding the baby for a few minutes, you quickly filled the rest of the pails before heading towards the centaurs. Hagrid always made sure you remembered how proud the centaur breed was. They didn't like to be classified as "beasts" along with thestrals, merfolk, or werewolves. They also ate both human and equine food.

It was a good thing you remembered to grab both types. You didn't want to upset them at all, let alone do so without Hagrid around to protect you. As you approached their den, a familiar face came to greet you.

"Good evening, Y/N."

Firenze stood tall as he looked down at you, his unwavering gaze making you a bit nervous.

"H-Hey! Sorry, it took me a bit to get here. Hagrid isn't feeling well, and I had to take him to the hospital wing."

The creature nodded and uncrossed his arms.

"That's quite alright. I see you brought my colony dinner."

You offered a smile and held out two big knapsacks of food. "I did! I wasn't sure what you would prefer so I came bearing a variety of things...I-I hope that's okay."

Firenze chuckled and placed one of his large hands on your shoulder. "That's very kind of you, Y/N. Please give Hagrid my best. I do hope he recovers quickly."

With a nod and a wave, you watched him until he was out of sight.

Adjusting the bag on your shoulder, you turned east and walked in the direction of the area Buckbeak frequented. You’d come to love the Hippogriff ever since Hagrid introduced you to him. It only took you about five minutes to navigate the trail before you could hear the excited bleats coming from a group of trees. Making sure to stop the moment you crested the hill, you made eye contact with Buckbeak and bowed low.

The Hippogriff turned and tilted its head momentarily and then bowed in return. You took the dead ferrets out of the bag and tossed them in the air for him to catch. When you ran out he nudged the side of your face and chirped happily.

“Yes, I love you too, Beaky. You’re a good boy!”

Kissing his beak sweetly, you bade him goodnight and walked south toward the heart of the forest. Time to feed the final species on your list.

Aragog.

Even though they were capable of human speech, acromantulas were the one beast you had a fear of. As you approached Aragog’s lair, hundreds of tiny spiders crawled on the ground next to you. Taking a few deep breaths to compose yourself, you crept into the pitch-black den with your senses on high alert. At the heart of it sat the beast himself.

“Who dares to come into my home?”

With a shaky hand, you reached into your bag and quickly pulled out a dead fox as an offering.

“A-Aragog? It’s um…it’s Y/N, the one who has been coming with Hagrid to feed you. I have umm… I have some birds and foxes for you.”

The large arachnid stalked closer to you, its eyes like black holes as it seemed to stare into your soul.

“Yes… the young fleshy girl who claims to be a friend of Hagrid. Tell me, where is my keeper? What have you done to him?”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end and your fight or flight instincts began to kick in.

“I-I-I didn’t do anything to him. He… he isn’t feeling well and I told him I’d come and bring you dinner…”

You hadn’t realized you were backing up until your heel caught a crooked root poking through the ground. Pain shot through your ankle as you fell against the floor of the den. Aragog clicked his fangs together and you flinched as his voice boomed around you angrily.

“I don’t believe you! I’ve known Hagrid for over fifty years, and not once has he missed a feeding!”

As graceful as your sprained ankle would allow, you scrambled to your feet and dumped the dead birds and foxes on the ground in front of you.

“H-Here’s your food… I… I’m just gonna go…”

The venom from his fangs began to drip on the ground as he moved even closer to you.

“Go? Oh, I don’t think so, friend of Hagrid. Those foxes and birds may sate my son's and daughter's hunger, but they won't satisfy me."

Ignoring the throb in your injured foot, you clambered out of the den as fast as you could. Branches swatted you in the face as you sprinted toward Hagrid's hut. Aragog was hot on your heels as the castle grounds became more and more visible. Just a few more feet and you'd be safe.

A rotted tree trunk caught your eye, but it was too late for you to avoid it. You hit the ground with a sickening thud, your wrist that broke your fall was surely broken. Turning to face the fastly approaching acromantula, you pleaded for him to stop.

"Aragog, please! ….I...I didn't do anything to Hagrid… please don't hurt me!"

The giant spider loomed over you, its fangs clicking together violently.

"Goodbye, friend of Hagrid…"

You let out a blood-curdling scream as its pincers tore into your flesh, the moonlight fading away until you slipped into unconsciousness.

Nights were usually the time Severus took to think. It was his free time, save for the occasional disobedient student wandering the corridors. He'd just walked past the open courtyard when a small owl flew down to land on his shoulder.

"Get off me you insolent bird!"

It let out a screech and circled him before settling on his other arm.

"Merlin’s beard, what is it that you want?!"

Just as he was about to send it away, he noticed a small charm bracelet attached to the owl's left leg. Curious, he cast Lumos and read the inscription.

Name: Nova Jane

Property of: Y/F/N Y/L/N

"I see...you're the property of the new Slytherin girl. Go on then! Go back to the dormitory."

Nova nipped at the buttons on his sleeve and screeched loudly. Just as Severus was about to scare it off, your scream echoed throughout the castle grounds.

"Take me to her! Now!"

Nova took flight and soared in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. Severus ran as quickly as he could, his robes flowing behind him like a cape. His heart thundered against his chest as he broke through the treeline.

The moment he saw Hagrid's acromantula towering over you, he drew his wand and aimed for its head.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

The spell sent Aragog catapulting backward, its body falling lifeless against the base of a large tree.

Seeing you lying there motionless made his blood run cold.

"Oh, Merlin…no no no..."

He sank down in the mud and put two fingers against your neck, a breath of relief falling from his lips when a faint pulse fluttered against them. His eyes scanned your body, worry prickling his skin at the number of deep cuts you had. He knew you wouldn't survive if he didn't act now.

With a shaky hand, he pointed his wand to the deep gash in your abdomen.

"Vulnera sanentur…"

A glow illuminated from it and within seconds it was as if the wound never existed. He did the same for the other large wounds as well as your wrist and ankle before lifting you into his arms. He may have stopped the bleeding, but you still had the acromantula's venom flowing freely in your veins. He only had a few minutes to reverse the toxins.

Closing his eyes, he apparated to his sleeping chambers and gently laid you on his bed. Severus worked quickly to mix up the antivenom. Once it was mixed properly, he used a syringe to inject it into all of your main arteries.

It became a waiting game. You'd lost a lot of blood, nearly too much, and all Severus could do now was hope you'd wake up. He found himself pacing, checking your pulse every so often to make sure you were still breathing. Eventually, the adrenaline in his body wore off, and it made him realize how tired he was.

He shed his robe, toed his shoes off, and with a snap of his fingers, a fire began to crackle and pop in the fireplace. He sat and pondered to himself. What was he supposed to do with you? It wasn't like he could take you to Madame Pomfrey now. Not after he'd healed you the best he could. Plus, he was sure the other Hogwarts staff would question him on why he took you back to his chambers. Honestly, he wasn't even sure why he'd done it. He acted on pure instinct.

His gaze wandered over to where you were laying. Severus felt himself relax upon seeing your chest rise and fall. He'd done it. He'd saved you. His eyes began to get heavy as he listened to your soft breathing. Unable to stay awake any longer, he let sleep consume him.

The smell of tea filled your nostrils as you tried to recall where you were. Last night's events flooded your mind and your eyes immediately snapped open.

Scanning the room, your brows furrowed in confusion. This wasn't the hospital wing, and it definitely wasn't Hagrid's. You sat up, your back against the headboard, and scanned your exposed skin. Other than a few bruises, there wasn't any sign of injury on you at all. Had it all been a dream?

The sound of the door opening brought you out of your thoughts. Your eyes widened at the sight of your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher carrying a teacup and saucer.

"Oh, you're up. Good." He strode over and set the cup down on the nightstand next to you. "Drink this. It'll help you feel better."

You blinked up at him, your eyes staring into his obsidian ones. Even though he wore a scowl ninety percent of the time, your professor wasn't bad looking. In fact, you found him quite attractive. His form-fitting robes with all those buttons and his confidence drew you in almost immediately.

It was then that you remembered he'd spoken to you. Forcing your brain to form words, you stuttered out a response.

"I...um…th-thank you, Professor…"

His stone-faced expression didn't waver as he sat down on the comforter next to you.

"Why, Y/N? Why would you put yourself in danger like that?! You could have been killed! Merlin, if it wasn't for your insolent bird, you would have been!"

You focused on your lap, your cheeks red with shame.

"M'sorry… I was just t-trying to help Hagrid fe-"

You slapped your hand over your mouth and internally cursed yourself. Hagrid made you promise not to tell anyone you were helping him, and here you've almost told none other than Professor Snape!

"Go on…"

Shaking your head, you moved to get off the bed.

"I… I can't… Thank you for saving me, Professor. I'll just be going…"

His firm hand came to rest on your thigh and with little force, he pushed you back down onto the bed.

"Listen to me, Y/N. I'm your Head of House. Either you tell me what you were doing in that forest, or I'll make you tell me."

The demand in his tone sent shivers down your spine. It really should be a sin to have a voice like his.

"I-I...um…"

Severus rolled his eyes and stood to walk across the room. He came back with a vial, with a small amount of liquid in the bottom.

"Know what this is?"

You shook your head.

"This is Veritaserum. Three drops of this, and it'll make you spill your darkest...of secrets…"

You watched as he poured the small amount of liquid into a glass of butterbeer.

"Drink…"

Instead of obeying his orders you grabbed the teacup off the saucer and swallowed its contents.

"Thank you, Professor, but I’m no longer thirsty and I don't like butterbeer."

For the first time since you arrived at Hogwarts, his lips gave a hint of a smile.

"It's no matter. What do you suppose I did with the rest of the serum, hm?"

All the color drained from your face, your mouth opening and closing like you were a fish out of water.

"The tea…"

Your professor chuckled, "Yes, the tea. Now, tell me, what were you doing in the Forbidden Forest after curfew?"

You couldn't stop them. It was as if you were possessed. The words came flowing out of you on their own accord.

"I was helping Hagrid feed his mythical creatures. He's in the infirmary sick and I offered to do it so he didn't have to."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "How long have you been doing this?"

You swallowed thickly. “Since the first day of school. Some of the other Slytherin girls were bullying me so I went for a walk. It was then that I formally met Hagrid. He offered me his spare bedroom, and I’ve been sleeping there ever since…”

He rose to his feet and began pacing again, his hands behind his back. “And he lets you stay...for free?”

“I can stay as long as I help him tend to the mythical creatures that live in the forest. He taught me everything he knows and I help him with feedings.”

Severus stopped and turned to face you. “Did you ever think of coming to me for help with the bullying? I am the Head of Slytherin you know.”

Oh, how you wished you could hold back the words threatening to escape. No matter how hard you tried, it was no use.

“I was too nervous to come to you, Professor.”

He raised an eyebrow, his hands fidgeting out in front of him. He knew his presence intimidated most of the children attending Hogwarts, but he decided to use this to his advantage.

“Obviously...And why, do you suppose, I make you so nervous, Y/N?”

“I suppose it’s because I’m in love with you.”

Your response came out just above a whisper, but he still heard every word. Out of every scenario in his mind, Severus did not expect you, a young woman, to say that. For a rare moment in his life, he was rendered speechless. It took him a moment to collect himself, but once he did he noticed your face was buried in your hands. Merlin, help him, you were crying and it was all his fault.

He slowly moved to where you were laying and sat down so he was at your level. Without giving it any thought, he pulled you into his chest and began rubbing small circles on your back to soothe you.

“Merlin, what was I thinking? I shouldn’t have forced the truth out of you like that. Please...forgive me.”

You clutched at his robes and moved your tear-filled eyes to his.

“I forgave you the moment it happened, Professor.”

A few silent moments passed between the two of you and he continued to hold your gaze. Severus was the first to move. Ever so slowly, he leaned down to capture your lips.

His mouth melded with yours perfectly, and he didn’t stop until his lungs demanded it. Your eyes closed, your forehead coming to rest against his.

“Professor I-”

He silenced you with another chaste kiss. “Severus…Call me Severus, Y/N.”

“Please Severus…make love to me.”

His resolve broke the moment the plea fell from your lips. Severus gently laid you back and gently rid you of your tattered robes. His calloused hands slid over your smooth skin making your breath hitch. He peppered kisses down into the crook of your neck, his path moving to the space between your breasts.

“S-Severus...please…need you…”

He nipped playfully at your jaw and sat up slightly to take his shirt off.

“Patience, Y/N… I’ll take care of you.”

Once he was bare before you he made his way between your legs. His touch was tentative, his fingertips brushing your folds gingerly. He circled your clit making you arch off the bed.

“Oh, Merlin!... Fuck!”

Severus chuckled and slid two of his fingers inside you curling them upwards.

“Bloody hell, you’re soaked, Y/N…”

He easily found the sensitive spot inside of you, the coil in your core winding tighter and tighter with each passing second.

“Please! Oh…shit… Se-Severus! M’gonna cum… please… please make me cum!”

His cock twitched at your words, precum leaking from the tip.

“Let go, Y/N...cum for me…”

With a cry of his name, you fell over the edge. Your chest heaved as you pulled him up for a heated kiss.

“Need you, Sev. Need you inside me. Please…”

As carefully as he could, Severus lined himself up and pushed into you.

“Merlin, you’re so tight!”

His thrusts were steady and his kisses were fervent as he made love to you.

“Oh, fuck! Sev! Oh, you’re so good… so good, baby…”

Both of you wanted it to last, but it was clear you both needed the release more.

“Y/N, I won’t last much longer like this… you feel amazing...so amazing.”

You slid your fingers through his thick hair and pulled his mouth down to yours. “Cum with me, Severus…”

A moment later, both of you soared into bliss together. His lips rested against your own and his body shook as he spilled into you, your walls clenching around his cock. Severus was spent as he settled behind you, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist.

“Y/N, I need to know you’re okay with this...with us…”

Threading your fingers with his, you planted a sweet kiss on the back of his hand.

“Severus, our love may be forbidden, but I’d choose you no matter what it cost me. I’ll take you as you are. Your highs, your lows, all of it. I’ll love you until my last breath.”

He turned you in his arms and cupped your cheek.

“I never thought I’d ever love another. Not after Lily, but seeing you in the forest like that sparked something in me. Something I haven’t felt for nearly fourteen years. I’ll spend forever protecting and loving you.

As your eyes grew heavy, you felt a new sense of worth. Coming to Hogwarts was something you’d only dreamed of growing up. The moment you found your acceptance letter, you knew your life would change. You never thought you’d find someone to love here, but for once you were happy, and that’s all you’d ever wanted.

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strangersteddierthings · 8 months

Note

👀 you should mix 1 & 10 together from that prompt list.

I’d say go for fluffy, but i know you. 🫣💜

For you, I will attempt some fluff, love. Even though you've picked two of the prompts most perfect for angst!

"I feel lost without you" and "I miss you every day"

It's a lil spicy below the read more 🫣🫣🫣

The dipping of the mattress behind him alerts Eddie that Steve has returned home. Eddie rolls over the seemingly endless expanse of mattress until he finally bumps into Steve. It's not as romantic as he was hoping it to be, because Eddie lands atop him, facing the ceiling instead of his beloved. He's got to shuffle and wiggle and twist all while Steve laughs at him and offers no help whatsoever.

"I miss you every day," Eddie whines, once he's turned the right way 'round, snuggling into Steve's chest, "all day, every day, and this is the abuse I suffer when you finally return from the war!?"

"I'll show you abuse," Steve says through a laugh and shoves Eddie over onto his back. Eddie goes without a fight because he loves it when Steve looms over him. He is, of course, immediately betrayed because Steve does not loom over him but instead folds himself in half to blow a raspberry off to the side of Eddie's belly button, where he is most ticklish!

"Betrayal! Abuse!" Eddie cries out even as Steve forces laughter from him. He tries to roll away, but Steve is too quick. Eddie makes it to his side, back facing Steve, before he's forced to stop by the grapple his boyfriend wraps him in, a bear hug around his torso that leaves his ticklish flesh vulnerable to further attacks. "No, no, stop! I yield!"

Steve's hands flatten out against his sides, pressing down to avoid further tickling in a way that is second nature now. He feels Steve shuffling around behind him, hears him sputtering as he, presumably, gets a mouthful of Eddie's hair in his attempt to snuggle up against Eddie's back, turning him into a little spoon.

Steve extracts one arm and uses it to flatten Eddie's main of hair out of the way. He then hooks his chin over Eddie's shoulder and places a quick kiss to his cheek before settling down to hold Eddie, their faces cheek to cheek. Cuddling like this wasn't Eddie's initial goal, but it's still good.

"I'll let you in on a little secret," Steve whispers, "about while I'm away at war. I feel lost without you. It's the thought of you, here at home, awaiting my arrival that keeps me going on every battlefield."

Eddie grins and knows Steve can feel him doing so. What he loves more than Steve looming over him, is Steve playing with him. Committing to the bit. "And what terrible, awful villains are you battling now, my dear heart?"

"Oh, the scariest, meanest, most terrifying ones, my love."

"Mmm. Must be parent-teacher conference week," Eddie shoves his shoulder back so Steve will raise his head up, and Eddie can turn his head to capture his lips in a sweet kiss that turns deep and filthy surprisingly quickly.

Steve releases Eddie from his hold and braces himself up on one arm by Eddie's head to allow Eddie to roll onto his back. Steve shifts his weight to reach the hand that was bracing his weight down to grab Eddie's hand, tangles their fingers, before raising their joined hands back up by Eddie's head. Steve draped across him, then, a leg slotting between his own, the kiss never breaking. Eddie rolls his hips lazily against Steve's leg, each drag cause delicious friction as his cock fills.

He feels Steve rut against him and Eddie longs to touch, but Steve's got him trapped. One arm pinned under Steve's solid weight and the other being held by his head. Fuck. He's not restrained, not really, but the thought of being so is enough to make him roll his hips harder, seek more friction.

They sleep in just boxers, so Eddie can feel the heat of Steve against his cock. Can feel Steve's cock moving at a much slower pace over his hip.

Steve pulls away, untangling their held hand and shifting slightly to kiss his way down Eddie's neck and to his bare chest. Eddie's hiss turns into a moan as Steve bites lightly at his nipple before soothing the hurt with his tongue.

"Unf, s'good baby," Eddie breaths out.

"You say you miss me every day," Steve murmurs into his chest before lifting his chin to look at Eddie, "but Imma show you how much I miss you every day." And then Steve is sliding down his body, mouth never leaving his skin as he kisses and licks his way down.

His lips leave him only so Steve can shift to the side, to get his leg out of the way of removing Eddie's boxers. Steve throws them somewhere beyond the end of the bed and then swings his leg back over Eddie's to straddle his leg.

Eddie runs his now free hands through Steve's hair. Not to pull at it, or to have his hands in place to any sort of leverage, but just to pet because he knows Steve loves it when people play with his hair.

Steve starts with kissing above his hip bone, slowly planting little kisses in a trail to Eddie's cock. He places one kiss at the base before licking up the shaft on the underside, which pulls a groan from Eddie and he feels his hands grip slightly at Steve's hair but he forces himself to relax.

Fuck, Steve's mouth feels divine as he closes his mouth around the head of him. Eddie lifts his head to look down and finds Steve stare back, lips wrapped around him, and as soon as they make eye contact, Steve sucks at the same time he flicks his tongue along the slit of him.

"Fuck, sweetheart," Eddie curses, dropping his head back down to the pillow because he's going to blow his load with three more licks if they keep eye contact.

Steve slides down Eddie's cock, relaxing his throat to take all of him, until Steve's nose is pressed against him, and then Steve hums. His hips buck involuntarily but Steve's already got him in his throat, so Steve just moves with the motion.

Eddie can feel Steve humping his leg and that's just so fucking hot.

Steve pulls up, but not off, wrapping a hand around the base of Eddie's dick and bobbing his head. It's so wet, so hot, and Eddie is not going to last long. "Steve. Stevie, baby, fuck."

Steve pulls off to breath, the hand that was at his base jerking him now in the absence of Steve's mouth. He doesn't speak, just pants above Eddie's cock while he spreads saliva and precum up and down with his hand. Eddie's getting close, so close. He must babble as much out loud because Steve's says, "yeah, yeah, come for me. Wanna taste you." And then on the next downward drag of his hand, Steve chases his hand with his mouth, flattening his palm to Eddie's hip, holding him down this time as he takes him as deep as he can without deepthroating him.

"Fuck!" Eddie cries as he comes, Steve swallowing around him. It's barely a few seconds later that Steve stills his furious humping and Eddie feels it as Steve comes in his boxers like a teenager.

Slowly, Steve drags himself up Eddie to collapse next to him. "I miss you that much." He mumbles by Eddie's ear.

"Me too. I love you, so much, Stevie."

"Love you, too."

#steddie #my fic #steve is a teacher if that was't clear #eddie is a rockstar currently not touring #he called himself a househusband and steve swoons every time he says it #thats not really relevant to this lil ficlet but i felt you should know #enjoy the spice #not edited so sorry #if i reread I'll second guess the smut and won't post so here you go

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starlightkun · 3 months

Text

➠ word count: 3.9k ➠ warnings: cursing, drinking, i won’t say that they fight but there’s some… adversarial conversations in here ➠ genre: fluff, a smattering of hurt/comfort, a dash of angst, established relationship, former hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), shortfic in the buzzer beater series (after on needlesticks and other metaphors, before between two palms) ➠ extra info: the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i have. when the reader’s migraines, experiences as a chronically ill person, and thoughts about being chronically ill are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines/chronic illnesses, but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds! ➠ series masterlist

“…That was passive aggressive.”

“Cheers!” Everyone clinked their glasses in unison.

“To being one year migraine free!” You squealed, entirely unable to contain your excitement.

This was officially the longest you’d ever gone in your life without a migraine since your diagnosis seven years ago now, and the last year of that had been without one entirely, according to your tracking app in your phone. When you showed Sungchan the homescreen of the app proudly displaying ‘You’ve been 1 year migraine free!’, your boyfriend had suggested to go out for dinner with some of your friends still in the area to celebrate. You loved the idea, knowing that you never would’ve thought of something like that on your own. Being chronically ill had always been an inconvenience on your best days; something to overcome, to survive; something that made you feel at odds with your own body day in and day out. The thought of celebrating anything tangential to it never struck you.

The other part of what you were doing tonight, though, was most definitely not Sungchan’s idea.

“That’s the fanciest soda I’ve ever seen, Y/N,” Hendery cocked an eyebrow as you took a sip of your brightly colored, layered drink.

“That’s because it’s not,” you replied coyly.

“Then what is it?” Ten questioned. “Because I thought you couldn’t have alcohol.”

“Mocktail?” Mark asked.

“I can’t have it when I’m on my meds, so I skipped them so I could celebrate for once in my adult life,” you admitted. Giving Chenle, who was on your left, a bump with your shoulder, you added, “Chenle helped me out with what to order.”

“Y/N never even drank in high school, so she was a bit clueless,” your best friend confirmed with a snicker.

“Oh, you’re going to be such a lightweight!” Hendery grinned holding up his hand for a high-five.

“Not that you’re not an adult who can make her own decisions…” Ten cautiously prefaced his question. “But are you going to be okay if you skip a dose of your medication? Don’t you like, need that?”

“It was more than one dose,” Sungchan finally spoke up from your right, for the first time since the cheers. “The medications have half-lives of about a week or so. In order to minimize the chance of a reaction, she’s been off them for two weeks.”

The table was quiet for a moment, an awkward silence as you held Sungchan’s eye contact incredulously.

“He’s just upset I decided to celebrate one year migraine-free by doing something that will probably give me a migraine.” You turned back to everyone else, chuckling sheepishly to dissolve the tension. “Which really is a genius move on my part, I’m aware. But I feel like it’s kind of like lactose intolerant people who really love mac and cheese, you know? Except I only do it once every seven years instead of every other day.”

That earned you a loud round of laughter from everyone at the table—save for Sungchan, who remained quiet as he took a sip of his water.

“Pace yourself, baby,” Sungchan murmured, pushing his glass of water over to you. “You have literally no alcohol tolerance, remember?”

“Mmm… you’re right, sorry.” You set your rather delicious drink down to lean down and sip from the straw.

“Buzzkill,” Chenle stuck his tongue out at your boyfriend.

“Bad influence,” Sungchan retorted, moving your hair back so it didn’t fall in the open water cup as you gulped it down.

“I heard that!”

“I didn’t whisper!”

“Alright, you two,” Sicheng cut in from Sungchan’s other side. “This isn’t cute, lighthearted bickering. Chenle, you’re tipsy and Sungchan, you’re not actually upset at Chenle.”

Chenle knocked back the rest of his drink before covering his mouth as he burped. “Sorry, dude.”

“Yeah, sorry, Chenle,” Sungchan sighed. “Let’s get you home, man.”

“Ten and I will take him,” Sicheng offered. “You worry about your girl.”

“I’m…” You paused, squinting your eyes as you evaluated your current state. “It’s weird… it’s kind of like some of the stuff I’ve been on? For my migraines? Like this one I had… it uhm… it did… I can’t think of the word right now… but it made me really stupid.”

“Speech arrest,” your boyfriend filled in for you, rubbing your back. “It didn’t make you stupid, baby, it made it hard for your brain to grab the right word when you would put sentences together. So your neuro reduced your dosage. That was the topiramate.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you nodded, swaying ever so slightly in your seat. “That’s the stuff that I can’t have with alcohol.”

“Correct.”

You poked the very tip of his nose. “Maybe you should just be my doctor, Channie.”

He grabbed your hand in a gentle hold. “Wrong kind of doctor. And I don’t even have my degree yet.”

“And I’m not a fish…”

He burst into soft chuckles at that. “No, no, you’re not.”

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or what, but your stomach was doing flip-flops as you looked at Sungchan’s smile, like you were on your first date again. Scooting your chair closer to his, you snuggled up to his side and rested your head on his shoulder.

“Are you tired, baby?” He asked, his voice tinged with concern. “Ready to go home?”

“We can go home, I don’t care,” you shrugged. “But I’m not tired.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“I just remembered that you’re my boyfriend, so I can do this like… whenever I want…” You clutched his arm to your chest.

“I can’t believe you’re both dopey, snuggly, cuddly drunks,” Ten commented from across the table, shaking his head. “I never want to see both of you intoxicated at the same time.”

“Yeah, I think God designed this perfectly, actually, so that you two can never be drunk together,” Hendery added, still picking at his food.

“He does work in mysterious ways.” Chenle put his hands together as if he were praying, making the others break out into snickers.

“Anyway, we’re about done for tonight. Everybody have a safe ride home that needs one?” Sungchan asked, pointing around to your friends. After getting a round of yeses and thumbs-ups, he encouraged you to your feet. You were stable, but there was no way you could have been doing any obstacle courses anytime soon.

Your friends took the next hour or so to say goodbye to you, all of them giving you hugs goodbye and one final congratulations in turn before passing you off to Sungchan to lead you out to the car. You and your boyfriend stopped by the hostess stand up front for him to pay off the tab for your whole table before you could finally leave for the night.

In the car, he helped you maneuver into the passenger seat, buckled you in, and pressed a kiss to your forehead before walking around to the driver’s side. You leaned your seat back so you could curl up comfortably and stare at Sungchan as he drove, one hand on the wheel and the other on your knee as always.

“Are you mad at me?” You whispered, hating that your voice was already wavering.

Sungchan sighed, not even needing to ask what you meant. “Look, baby, obviously, I would rather you not have stopped taking the medication that prevents you from going through awful, horrible pain so that you could drink one time in order to celebrate that very same medication working so well that you hadn’t experienced that pain for a whole year but… I get that it’s your health and your life and you made an educated decision knowing the risks.”

“…That was passive aggressive.”

“You’re still a bit tipsy, baby. We can talk about it after you’ve slept it off, and slept off the hangover, and slept off the migraine that you’re definitely going to get, and the rebound headache that you’ll probably get too.”

“No. You say that you get that it’s my decision, but you clearly have an opinion on it. You’re my boyfriend, I value your opinion. So go ahead. Right now.”

“I just…” He took a deep breath. “I just don’t get the sudden interest in drinking, now. You never seemed to have an issue with being sober during undergrad because of your medication. Trust me, you’re really not missing out on anything.”

“Exactly, you’ve done it, so you know it’s not a big deal, because you have that experience.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “I never got that. You heard Chenle; I never drank in high school because I figured I’d have plenty of time to drink responsibly when I was the legal age. And then I got diagnosed with these fucking migraines the same year, and got started on all this medicine that reacts with alcohol. And the whole time I have people who do drink reassuring me that I’m really not missing out on anything, all the while drinking right in front of me, constantly. Every time we go out to dinner, beers in the fridge, wine on the counter, mimosas at brunch, it’s everywhere, and yet I’m supposed to believe that I’m not missing out on anything?!”

Sungchan bit his lip. “I’m sorry—”

“Hold on, I’m not done.”

“Okay.”

“And I don’t care that people do drink around me. Like, I don’t want you to stop keeping alcohol around the apartment after this just because of me, Sungchan,” you added pointedly. “I just wish people wouldn’t fucking lie to me about enjoying it, acting like they’re making me feel better. Like, I don’t think you have to drink alcohol to be an adult, but when you’re an adult who has had that choice taken away from them by some outside thing instead of making the decision for yourself, it’s a lot fucking different. And I just… having it happen at the same time as my diagnosis… I know my neuro said that they were chronic and it was a lifelong condition, but before it really sank in as to what that meant, and how long my entire life really was, I had this stupid little daydream about being like a real grown-up and going out for drinks with my grown-up friends to celebrate some grown-up achievement like a promotion or something. That I’d be off of all the stupid medication.”

There were a few beats of still air in the car before Sungchan spoke up. “Are you…?”

“No, one more thing.”

“Alright.”

“I know you care for me, Channie, I do. If there is one thing you have shown me in the past three years, it is that you love me, all of me, in sickness and in health, and it has been more often than not, in sickness.” You squeezed his hand that was still overtop your knee. “You know my medications and conditions better than I do at this point. Like, I’m glad you’re getting a degree in molecular biology and are studying a fish, because I think if you actually became a human doctor, you would dedicate yourself to figuring out how to swap our central nervous systems to take my migraines and put them on yourself.”

He seemed to consider this for a moment, then nodded.

“Truly, I understand that that is how much you love me and want me to be well and never be in physical pain again. And I love and appreciate you for that so, so much. I know that it hurts you, on the inside, to see me in pain. It hurts me to see you in pain, too. Remember when you got the flu last year and had to be hospitalized for two days?” You squeezed your eyes shut against the awful memory. “I got a stress migraine and didn’t even tell you until now because I knew that would’ve made you feel worse. But I need you to understand that sometimes I’m looking at the bigger picture when it comes to this stuff. I’m going to have my migraines for the rest of my life. And maybe that means I go thirty years without one. Maybe it means I get one a month. Recently, I got a whole year. But there will always be the risk of one. Like, that’s just something I’ve had to accept, and you are going to have to accept.” You poked his arm, making him pout for a second. “So, the way I see it, is that I need to strike the right balance between preventing migraines, and living a life I actually enjoy. And part of living a life I actually enjoy includes doing stuff I’ve never done before, like drinking, and doing it in a way that decreases other risks as well, like medication interactions. And yeah, that put me at a higher risk for migraines, but I’m okay with that. I can deal with migraines, I’ve dealt with hundreds of them before. One more in exchange for a new experience was something I was willing to do this time. Do you get where I’m coming from now, baby?”

Having finally been prompted to talk, Sungchan answered, “Yeah, I understand. I should’ve tried to talk to you about this and see what it was actually about instead of just assuming. I’m sorry I was a dick at your celebratory dinner that I suggested in the first place.”

“I want you to be concerned for me, Channie.” You brought his hand up to kiss the back of it. “Need my guy to make sure I don’t do anything too stupid while trying to enjoy my life. But maybe in the future we can both approach it from a more conversational and inquisitive angle than we did this time, hm?”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” He glanced over at you to pat your head, smiling fondly. “My girl’s so smart, even when she’s tipsy and pissed off at me. I got so lucky.”

“I’m probably like, only a little buzzed right now… we spent a long time saying bye to everyone. And you made sure I ate, and drank water, and paced myself.”

“Guess we’ll find out in the morning.” He clicked his tongue teasingly, taking your hand in his again.

“Well…” You popped an over-the-counter headache reliever for the first time in years. “Now I get why they call it a migraine hangover.”

Sungchan chuckled, setting your breakfast down in front of you. “And how does a real hangover compare to a migraine hangover?”

“Eh,” you shrugged, picking up your fork. “My body feels yuckier, but my brain is working a lot better. Like, I’m pretty sure if I saw a puddle right now, I wouldn’t, in the heat of the moment, call it a ‘pile of water’ with my whole chest.”

Your boyfriend burst into laughter. “Pile of water?”

“Yeah, that one happened in one of Dr. Son’s classes,” you sighed, shutting your eyes and holding your head in one of your hands lazily. “Socratic discussion, so the entire class was focused on me and my insightful commentary on what I thought the pile of water represented in the story.”

“I’m sure it was very profound, baby.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you scoffed, opening your eyes just enough to get your next bite of food onto your fork and lift it to your mouth.

The next day, you were more than recovered from your first hangover of your life, but worse off than before. Somehow, in that year without a migraine, you’d forgotten how bad they were. And now, they were back with a vengeance. You couldn’t, in the moment, think what number this would be on a comparative scale to all your others, but it sure as fuck felt like a 9/10 at least.

The blackout curtains in your bedroom were drawn shut, you had an eye mask pulled on, your ear plugs in, and had all of your usually lovely scent plug-ins removed from the room. It felt like the slightest sensory input set off gunfire in your brain, and you would let out an immediate, visceral yelp.

It had started soon after you woke up, meaning that Sungchan came home from the gym to find you curled up under the covers clutching your head, unable to even move to get your rescue meds—the ones that never worked in the first place. He’d been the one to shut the blackout curtains, find your long-unused eye mask, fetch your earplugs from your go bag, take out any artificially and/or strongly scented thing from the room, and prepare all of your medication for you to take in one blind, desperate gulp. He didn’t need to ask how you were doing—obviously, bad.

He climbed back in on his side of the bed, the two of you having worked out that you’d let him know if you needed more or less physical contact during some of the migraines. You always liked having him near, to feel less alone, but sometimes the extra sensations on your body just ended up being too much to handle in the moment. Whether it was body heat, or clothes wrinkling in the wrong places, or hair poking you, sometimes you were just extra on edge, and it did more harm than good.

Right now, you were laying on your front facing him, face buried into your pillow, one of your hands clasped with his and your joined hands cradled to your chest, a comforting, grounding pressure on your sternum. The only indication you had that Sungchan wasn’t asleep was when his thumb would run along yours every so often, a silent reassurance. You’d squeeze his hand back, letting him know you were still hanging in there, you didn’t need anything more, just him.

You must have eventually gone to sleep, as you were now waking up. The eye mask was slightly askew, and you rubbed at your eyes as you pulled it off all the way.

“Morning, beautiful,” Sungchan whispered, then pressed a button on his watch, lighting up the time for a split second. “Or, 6:00 p.m. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you groaned. Your earplugs had fallen out of your ears somewhere, but you would find those later. “But the migraine is finally fucking gone.”

“Good.”

“Ugh.” You dropped your head back down to your pillow. “I can’t believe that migraine lasted two and a half days.”

“I was going to carry you to the ER myself if you woke up and still had it.” Sungchan sat up, and one look at his face told you he was serious. “I can’t believe I let you talk me out of it after you hit the 36-hour mark last night.”

“I told you I just needed to sleep it off.”

“Yeah, for 20 hours straight.”

You winced, and the reminder of how long you had been out seemed to suddenly snap your body back to reality all at once. “I need to pee. Also, I’m hungry. And thirsty. Holy shit, my breath stinks. Actually, my everything stinks— Oh my God I need to pee!”

Quite literally jumping out of bed, your knees immediately buckled, and you dropped unceremoniously to the floor. “Fuck!”

“Woah, baby, you okay?” Sungchan scrambled to follow you, coming to kneel down beside you.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Channie,” you reassured him with a sheepish smile, slowly sitting up. “My muscles were not ready for that.”

“You were just passed out for 20 hours straight,” he reminded you, tenderly fixing some of your hair. “And had a migraine for two and a half days. Take it easy for a bit, baby. And you’re about to start weaning back on your meds. Your body’s going to have a lot to get used to again for a while.”

“Those weren’t full doses you gave me earlier?” You asked curiously.

“Hell no,” he snorted. “Do I look like an idiot?”

“That’s what I would’ve done.”

“You’re fully weaned off all of them. Starting back at your full doses would just make all the side effects that you were managing even worse. It might even give you some that you didn’t have the first time you were taking them.”

Your mouth silently formed an ‘Oh,’ and you grabbed Sungchan’s arm. “Thank you, Channie. I… You shouldn’t have to… Thank you. I love you, and I would kiss you right now, but like I said, I really need to brush my teeth.”

He leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead, and when he pulled back, there was a warmth glowing in his brown eyes. “I love you, too, baby. And hey, we’re a team, okay? We’ve got to do all this stuff as a team, and that includes health. Your health and mine. You’re not only in charge of taking care of you and I’m only in charge of taking care of me, that’s not how it works. That would be so unfair. Imagine if you never came with me when I got my flu shots.”

“Who would hold your hand?”

“Exactly.”

“But I feel like holding your hand once a year isn’t really comparable to this…”

“My point is that we’re a team, which means we share the tough stuff with each other, so everything isn’t on one person’s shoulders. You have a chronic illness, baby. You have to deal with all the pain, and medication side effects, and everything that I can never take from you no matter how much I wish I could. So let me pick up your meds from the pharmacy, and find you fun new band-aids for your injection, and keep a snack on me since you never will, and learn as much as I possibly can about this.”

“Okay, I get your point.” You pulled your knees to your chest, resting your chin on them to look at him. “How do you always know the right stuff to say to make me feel better, Channie?”

“I don’t always. I didn’t the other night at dinner,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but I mean, you usually do when it comes to this stuff, with my migraines. You always…” you sniffed, your vision watering and growing blurry. “You always say all this nice stuff, and it’s not just talk, you really mean it too, I see it in how you act, what you do. Just… how are you… in love with me?”

“Y/N, baby,” Sungchan scooted over to take you into his arms, fully enveloping you with his body as you suddenly devolved into hiccupping sobs into his shirt. “You’re exhausted, right?”

You nodded against him, feeling how absolutely drained you were to your very core, despite the 20 straight hours you had just slept.

He hugged you even tighter to him. “Listen. I’m not going to list out a bunch of reasons that I love you, because I think that’ll just do more harm than good. So I’ll tell you this: I love you because I do. Because everything single thing I’ve ever found out about you, good or bad, has only made me more crazy about you.”

You started crying harder, clinging to him tightly, and he rubbed your back all through it.

“I-I’m so tired, Channie,” you mumbled into his collar, bunching the fabric of his shirt in your hand.

“I know, baby, I know.”

“I really need to pee…”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

➠ next | series masterlist | blog masterlist

#sungchan x reader #riize x reader #sungchan imagines #riize imagines #sungchan #sungchan imagine #riize imagine #nct x reader #nct imagine #nct imagines #jung sungchan #i: sungchan #f: garbage goal #s: buzzer beater #writing #text #mine #bias tag #*100

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greg-montgomery · 1 year

Note

I know you said angst but... im feeling some type of way so.. 👉🏼👈🏼 putting in a request for brat tamer hotch?? Maybe?? 👉🏼👈🏼 when you feel like it of course!

do not get mad at me for the beginning this isn't what it looks like i swear this is smut not angst lmfaooooo

brat tamer hotch my weakness <333

nsfw - minors dni

cw: orgasm denial and a sprinkle of degradation <3

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“I’ll be home before 8. I love you.”

You stared at your boyfriend’s text, struggling to maintain the pout on your face that you’d been wearing all day.

Aaron had been gone on a case for a whole week, and his absence around the house had been driving you crazy. You were mad at him, and even though you refused to admit it, the reason wasn’t the fact that he hadn’t called you the night before to wish you ‘good night’ and send you a virtual forehead kiss like he always did.

Feeling angry towards Aaron, during the periods of time he was away, was a pattern you couldn’t ignore anymore. Maybe you weren’t really mad at him. Maybe you were just trying to protect yourself from feeling hurt and lonely the nights you were falling asleep holding his pillow instead of him. Because, in reality, just the sweet ‘I love you’ he had texted you, made your heart melt like butter.

Still, when you heard his key turn in the lock, you didn’t jump out of your seat to run to the door so you could climb into his arms like your heart craved. You simply kneeled on the couch, waiting for him to come to you.

“Sweetheart,” he called out for you, his arm already wrapped around your shoulders pulling you against him. “I missed you.”

“I did too,” you said, and let him bless you with one of his gentle kisses.

“Mmm…missed this,” he whispered, with his eyes still closed, as he pulled away from the kiss. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

You would be too embarrassed to admit it out loud, but you secretly wished he wouldn’t take showers so fast after coming home from work. Maybe you were gross for thinking that way, but his natural scent after a long day was even more delicious to you than his shower gel and after shave.

“Okay,” you said. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes, baby,” he answered, already walking towards the bathroom, his thick fingers working on untying his tie. “Don’t worry.”

You sat back down on the couch, opening the book you had been reading, paying no attention to the words on the paper. Why couldn’t you just be normal? Give him a big hug to the point where he couldn’t breathe and tell him how impossible it was for you to have a good day when he wasn’t around?

His smile, less than twenty minutes later, when he was back in the living room made you almost swoon. His dimples were gonna be the end of you.

As if he knew how to become even more irresistible to you, he sat on the other end of the couch, spread his legs and patted on his thigh. “Come here.”

“I’m reading.” What was wrong with you?

“You haven’t seen me in a week and that’s the welcome I get?”

You looked up at him, staying silent, but Aaron seemed to lose his patience.

“Put the book down and come here,” he ordered.

It was not an easy thing to say no to Aaron Hotchner when he used his authoritative voice on you. So you did as he said. Just a moment later, you were on his lap, straddling him, his large hands placed possessively on your hips.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you mumbled, lowering your gaze so you wouldn’t be met with his intense one.

“Then what’s that cute little pout doing on your face, hm?” Aaron asked, grabbing your chin with two of his fingers, forcing you to look at him.

“I’m not pouting,” you argued, fully aware that you were doing just that.

“You sure are. Are you mad at me or something?” His one hand was now petting your hair, and it was so hard not to melt completely under his touch.

“No.”

Aaron smiled. And then he started laughing.

“What?” you asked annoyed.

“Nothing. I just think that I know what’s wrong.”

“And what’s wrong?” you challenged him.

“I think…” he said slowly, his hands running up and down your torso, making you shiver, “that my baby is a little frustrated because she hasn’t been touched in a week.”

You bit the inside of your cheek hearing his words. “I can make myself feel good on my own, you know. I have fingers,” you said, showing him your hand, trying to make a point.

He grabbed it, pulling you on his body. “But do those pretty fingers make you get complaints from your neighbors because you were screaming too loud like my cock does?”

Aaron was staring at your mouth, waiting for you to make the first move. You tried, really tried to resist. But you failed.

You whined into his mouth, finally getting what you wanted. Your lips moved desperately against his, the feeling of his hand tugging on your hair making the ache between your legs unbearable.

You rocked yourself against him, hoping you would get some relief and Aaron was kind enough to let you. But you knew him, and you knew he wouldn’t let this slide so easily.

“Enough now,” he whispered in your ear.

“But I need…” you started to complain, but he didn’t let you finish.

“You can make yourself feel good on your own, angel,” he smirked. “You have fingers,” he said and glanced at your hand.

You did your very best to give him puppy eyes, but Aaron was not about to give in.

“Come on, baby. Touch yourself. Show me how you do it without me.” He readjusted himself on the couch, placing an arm under his head, ready to watch the show. The way his arm flexed made you almost drool, wishing you were sinking your teeth into his toned muscles.

With your cheeks burning from embarrassment you reached into your panties and started rubbing your sensitive clit in circles. It felt good, and the way Aaron’s dark gaze was focused on yours made it even better.

“Take this off, I wanna look,” he said, gesturing at your shorts.

You didn’t wanna give him what he wanted, but Aaron didn’t wait too long before taking the matter into his own hands. He pulled your shorts down harshly, your underwear coming off with them too.

“Much better,” he said, staring at your pussy with hungry eyes.

His tight grip on your thighs hurt, but somehow it combined well with the pleasure you were feeling.

“Inside now,” he said, as if he was giving you instructions for the most causal thing in the world.

You slipped two of your fingers inside you, dropping your gaze into his lap for a second so you could see how hard he was. Satisfied from the sight you moved your fingers faster, feeling your orgasm approaching.

You didn’t notice that Aaron’s left hand wasn’t on your thigh anymore. But you did notice when he wrapped it around your wrist.

“No, no,” you whined when you realized what he was about to do.

“Brats don’t get to cum,” he said, and pulled your hand away from your pussy. The euphoric feeling between your thighs turned into an achy one really fast.

“Aaron…” you whimpered, desperate for release. You tried to clench your thighs together or rub yourself against him, but Aaron was way stronger than you and could control your body almost effortlessly.

“Look how horny you are,” he said in a condescending tone. “It’s embarrassing.”

“It hurts,” you pouted, tears filling the corner of your eyes.

“I know,” he smirked. “That’s the point.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, knowing that was what Aaron was waiting for. “I’m sorry for having an attitude. Of course it feels better when you fuck me. It can’t even compare.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm…” you nodded, eagerly.

He smiled sweetly at you. “There’s my good girl. Go on, touch it,” he said, releasing your hand.

You did.

“It’s too sensitive now,” you complained.

“Aw…” he cooed. “Did I ruin your orgasm?”

“You’re awful,” you sighed, and let yourself fall against his chest.

Aaron ran his hand up and down your back, trying to soothe you. “Lie back down.”

Your tummy twisted in excitement. In just a few seconds you were laying on the couch with Aaron’s head between your legs. He pulled your shorts and panties completely off and kissed the inside of your thigh. Then he gave a gentle kiss to your clit sending sparkles all over your body.

“You’re dripping down to your knees,” he said and finally started licking you like you needed.

“Fuck,” you whined, his tongue doing its magic on you like nothing else ever could.

You fingers got lost between his thick hair, trying to hold him in place as if he would go away.

“Oh my God…Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

He sucked on your clit and your body started shaking; you knew you’d be coming in his mouth soon.

The sounds he was making against you, the moans that were leaving his mouth as if he was the one about to cum drove you insane.

Your eyes rolled back as your orgasm took over your body. “Oh my God, oh my God, I can’t…” you moaned. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he said, giving a few more long licks to your pussy. “See how you took it like a good girl?”

You let out a shaky breath staring at the ceiling. This was heaven.

Aaron kissed your tummy and returned to his seating position, taking you with him.

“See?” he said kissing your cheek. “One orgasm later and the brat that welcomed me home tonight is nowhere to be found.”

You giggled and rested your head on his shoulder, feeling exhausted.

“I’m sorry. I just missed you a lot,” you admitted.

“I know you did, sweetheart,” he said softly, kissing the middle of your palm. “And I missed you too. Let’s go to bed.”

“Can I suck you off in there?” you asked, shyly. “Wanna fall asleep with you in my mouth.”

He chuckled, clearly thinking how impractical your suggestion was, but indulging you anyway. “Anything my sweet girl wants.”

#aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotch 🪐#ask #nsfw.#raven 🖤

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tieronecrush · 1 year

Text

cool about it

joel miller x f!reader

(part II of water in your hands)

rating: E (18+ ONLY, MDNI)

word count: 14k (i'm sorry, please grab a snack or some water or read it in stages!!)

summary: I'm trying to be cool about it / Feelin' like an absolute fool about it / Wishin' you were kind enough to be cruel about it

You and Joel have been together secretly for months now, sneaking around behind his wife’s back. He hasn’t made a move to break it off with her, and at this point, you aren’t sure if he ever will. That is until he’s forced to face his problems, and you’re left with all the guilt.

warnings: NO USE OF Y/N, adultery/infidelity, marriage, age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is 20s/30s), use of pet names, mentions of water/drowning, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), one instance of spitting/drooling, praising, undefined relationship turned committed relationship, slightly possessive joel & reader, alcohol use, ANGST, hurt/comfort, separation, degrading language (homewrecker, slut, mistress, etc.), self-deprecation/insecurity

series spotify playlist / apple music

a/n: thank you to everyone who requested a part 2!! i really love these two even though i make them suffer BUT i would LOOOVE to write some more little stories for them so drop any requests in my inbox! i don’t wanna say goodbye to them just yet :(

dividers from @saradika

It was a rare occurrence for your shift to line up with Joel’s. Lately, he’d be working early mornings or overnights, and you would be afternoons or evenings at the bar. Today, however, is a gift from the universe. He’d been assigned a handful of shifts that ended in the afternoon, and for some reason, Tommy scheduled you early to come deep clean and organize the back bar and stock room for the Tipsy Bison. Joel and you could see each other in the light of day, for maybe only the sixth or seventh time in the months that you have been sneaking around with each other.

He walks straight into the unlocked doors of the bar, an eager grin on the side of his face when he sees you. He beelines for you as you stand in front of the counter, wiping it down.

“Mmm, been thinkin’ about you my whole shift, sugar. Even got a little distracted with you on my mind - got yelled at to keep it moving at one point,” his voice is a little hoarse from booking it over here from the stables, slightly sweaty arms wrapping around your waist and flexing as they squeeze you tight and turn you around, “Was just itchin’ to get over here.”

His lips find that spot under your ear that sends goosebumps over your skin every time, a playful smirk pulling the corners of your mouth up. Your hands rest against the plaid flannel covering his arms, the added warmth necessary for the early spring weather. It reminds you of what he’d been wearing a year ago when he’d started settling into Jackson; sleeves rolled up to show off the delicious veins that bulge when he was working hard. The thought gets you a little light-headed and you take a quick breath to calm your racing mind.

“Well, can’t blame me for you being horny. Gotta keep it in your pants on patrol, sir.” Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes shine with a tease as you watch Joel’s eyebrows shoot up keenly at your statement and the polite title.

“I think I can blame you. ‘Specially when you’re the one calling me sir.” His eyes darken with hunger - and the knowledge that you’re going to be the one to satiate it. His arms loosen from their tight hold around your waist, large hands skimming down your back to grab at the cushion of your ass greedily.

“Did you only come to get something from me, Miller? I think I should be offended that you didn’t just want to visit me.”

“Oh, darlin’, y’know I came here to just get a glimpse of that pretty face to keep me going for the day. But then I got one look at you, and you just always do somethin’ to me. Can’t ever get enough of you.” His lips attach to the notch where your jaw meets your neck, teeth grazing skin as he works his mouth down to your collar. He hooks two fingers in your shirt there, pulling it back to reveal the blossoming purple mark that he had left the other night when the two of you were glued to each other in your bed. It was his parting gift as the sun rose, the usual warning sign for him to get back home.

“Can I give you another, sweet girl? Or maybe a couple? And you can wear one of those cute little tank tops next shift. Gotta let those gawking boys know you belong to someone.” His low, syrupy twang sends humidity across your exposed skin. Your head tilts back involuntarily, hands gripping his forearms that rest against your hips, his hands still palming your ass.

“You can give me as many as you want. Just wish I could you some.” Your gaze moves down to meet Joel’s eyes, the slightest pout on your face that pulls him away from your collarbone. He looks at you tenderly, one hand leaving your backside to brush your hair back from your face with care.

“I know, darlin’. I wish you could, too.” His thumb rubs against one of your cheekbones, and your eyes close to focus on the touch and feel the weight of his words. He still hasn’t told you those three words that you give him all the time, still never crossing that line.

The cool metal of his wedding band stings your face when he slips his hand down your cheek and along the nape of your neck as if the universe was sending you a quick reminder about who he was promised to.

“You wanna get out of here, sweet girl? We’ve got a few hours just to ourselves.” Your eyes open again at the sound of his voice, a soft smile spreading his lips as he speaks. He gets a mischievous glint in his eye, eyebrows wagging as his large hands slip into the back pockets of your jeans, giving one strong squeeze.

“Maybe we can have a little afternoon delight? Hmm?” He looks genuinely pleased with his cheeky suggestion, and you can’t help but chortle at the horny teenager energy he’s got.

“Play your cards right, Miller, and maybe you can have a little treat.” You wink at him, opening your mouth again to send another quip, only to be taken by surprise as he captures your lips in a fervent kiss. His tongue licks into your mouth, your front pressing tightly against his to the point where you can feel him half-hard against your thigh.

You pull away from the heated kiss, tsking quietly as you pull his hands off of you.

“We won’t ever make it out of here if you keep that up. And that isn’t ideal for either of us.”

Joel groans, the end of the sound hitching up into a soft whine.

“Fine, fine. You’re right. But I can’t fucking wait any longer. Been waiting all morning…” He trails off in thought, his eyes lighting up with an idea.

“Just come to mine. It’s closer.”

“Yeah, by only like 100 feet, Joel. And what if Heather’s home, hmm? How are you gonna explain your hard dick and me likely bent over whatever surface is closest to the front door?” Your arms cross over your front, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“She’s teaching today. She’ll be at school all afternoon. C’mon, it’ll be fine. Never get to have you in my bed.”

It’s not just your bed, you think to yourself. Your stomach turns a bit at the not-so-friendly reminder from your conscience. Your eyes flick down to the ring on his left hand, a sigh escaping as you study the shine of the metal before meeting his eyes once more. You could see the eagerness in them, the want. He wasn’t going to let it go, and you knew if you kept arguing it would end up with him propositioning that it’s either here in the bar or the privacy of his house.

“Okay. We’ll go to yours. But it’d better be a quick one.”

Joel smirks devilishly, hands grabbing at your body. He pulls you away from the counter, fishing out his house keys from the front pocket of his jeans.

“You’re gonna be changing that tune once I get you inside, darlin’. Gonna want to take your time.”

Decision made, Joel left out of the bar first to get a head start back home. Finishing up with your last tasks quickly, you closed up and started down your shared street, sending friendly waves to neighbors as you made your way. You came up with an excuse in your head as to why you were walking up to Joel’s door, just in case an overly curious bystander wanted to be nosy.

You send three quick knocks against the wood, peering in through the small glass windows in the door to see Joel making his way over from the kitchen. He grins sweetly when he opens the door, inviting you in. To an outsider, it all seemed to be a perfectly normal, neighborly exchange. Perhaps you were going to catch up over coffee or Joel was helping you out by getting you a tool to borrow.

Little do they know what he was really about to give you.

It was an awkward exchange at first, Joel stumbling around his words as he gave you a sort-of tour while leading you upstairs. You’d been in his house before, invited in by Ellie when she needed help with a gardening project for school and she’d come to you for advice based on the flora in your front lawn. You’d even been there when he and his wife were there, canoodling on the couch. It stung, seeing him laughing and holding her close. Nearly made you snap the pencil you were holding in your hand as you read over Ellie’s project plan.

But now you were here, alone, and he wanted you in his own bed. Their bed. Their literal marital bed.

It gave you a rush of anxiety as he pushed open the door to the room, turning towards you as you give the space a once over. You ignored the touches of her in the room — the throw pillows around the bed, the perfume on the dresser vanity, and clothes hanging slightly out of the hamper. Instead, you focus on the little details of him that you were finally privy to.

A novel on his nightstand, The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemmingway, the small ceramic dish that he now discards his wedding ring in, the owl mug that holds his morning coffee, smatterings of clothes around his side of the room. It all feels very comfortable, reminding you of pieces that you get of him in your own space. These touches of him give you a sense of home and safety; it all feels very Joel.

He pulls you out of your observations, your eyes meeting his lustful gaze. He towers over you, hands holding the sides of your jaw to tilt your head back. He slants his lips against yours, a light kiss turning salacious with want. Your hands find the waistband of his jeans, tugging lightly while his tongue dances with yours. Soft moans escape with the breaths you both take, and he peels away from your lips to pull your t-shirt over your head, mouth attacking your collarbone to leave more marks as he had promised earlier. Your head tilts, eyes opening for a split second when he bites a bit harder. His tongue soothes the nip, but you still feel the tinge of pain when your eyes lock onto the lacy panties haphazardly discarded near the hamper. You can’t look away, bile burning your throat as your mind gives you an image of the two of them together, of Joel enjoying anyone but you. The thought of those not belonging to you and being for him makes jealousy canker across your heart. A new determination is shocked through you - you want to give him a memory of you being the one pleasing him in this room, for him to think about whenever he has his wife in the same position. You wanted him to be moaning your name, praising you, being under your spell, even for a moment.

Pressing your hands against his strong chest, you push him back with a step. His head shoots up from your collar with surprise, a little smirk pulling at his lips. His eyebrows raise in question as you push him to the end of the bed, hands gripping his broad shoulders and maneuvering him to sit. Eager hands find your hips, grazing over to your ass as he looks up at you standing over him.

“Whatcha wanna do, baby? You wanna ride me, hmm?” His voice is lecherous, dripping with desire and satisfaction over you taking some control.

You shake your head at him, bending down in just your bra to pop open the button of his jeans and slide the zipper down as it strains against his bulge. He buries his face in the exposed skin of your breasts that are now eye level, humming contently.

He lets you work his jeans down to his mid-thighs, cock springing free. He still never bothered with underwear most of the time despite the slow, normal life he’d adjusted to in Jackson.

You keep eye contact as you kneel in front of him, his keen stare unblinking as his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. You settle in front of him between his legs, hand wrapping around him and stroking slowly. He looked down at you with hooded eyes, mouth opening in a small gasp at the languid stimulation. A rush of saliva floods your mouth at the thought of tasting the beads of pre-cum that were starting to trickle out of his swelling length.

Giving into your bodily reactions, you lean in and press hot, open-mouthed kisses against the soft skin. Your thumb brushes against his tip, a hiss of pleasure sounding from above. One of Joel’s hands finds the back of your head, tangling fingers into your hair. He doesn’t move to guide you, simply wanting to touch a part of you.

Your free hand gently cups his balls as you press a featherlight kiss to the tip of his hard cock. A kitten-lick swipes up the dribbles of pre-cum that have collected and Joel’s fingers tense against your strands. You hum satisfied with the reactions you’re drawing from him, looking up to see splotches of redness growing across his cheeks and neck at the frustration. He groans out your name as your mouth works to tease him more, not having taken him fully in.

“Fucking hell, baby, quit teasin’.” Joel rasps as he watches your methodical seduction. He applies the smallest pressure against the back of your head when your lips finally wrap around just the tip of him, a moan of relief rolling from his chest.

Your eyes stay glued on his face, relishing in every response that he’s having to your mouth working him. Your head starts a slow bob up and down, growing wet at the weight of him on your tongue. You focus on half of him with your mouth, your hand working what isn’t inside. His noises grow louder and in quicker succession, his cheeks visibly warm and eyes dark with a craving when he looks down at you again.

“Such a sweet girl. Look so pretty with my cock in your little mouth. Think you can take more, baby? Think I can fit in your throat?” His words flood your panties, feeling the fabric stick uncomfortably against you. You shift in your position slightly, a sigh exhaling as your thighs rub together to relieve some of your ache.

The rhythm of your head brings his cock deeper, his tip brushing the back of your throat. You swallow around him and it squeezes him just right, a loud moan coming from him above you. He loses some of his composure, the large hand at the back of your head pushing him down your throat further and causing you to gag. Tears spill from your eyes and spit drips from the sides of your mouth, the blow job quickly turning sloppy as Joel takes more control.

“Fucking hell, darlin’. Taking me so well on your own, being such a good girl for me. You gonna let me fuck your mouth?”

The two of you are tunnel-visioned on each other, with no thoughts in your head except for getting Joel to come down your throat and no thoughts in his other than the sight of you taking his cock in your mouth. Had the two of you sensed anything happening in the house, it might have saved you.

Heather, Joel’s wife, returned home on her lunch break, hoping to run into her husband when she grabbed something to eat quickly. She heard the familiar timbre of Joel’s voice coming from upstairs, not making out any words at first. She climbed the stairs, the sound becoming clearer. Joel was definitely there, but he wasn’t alone. Wet sounds accompanied his pleasured moans, her ears perking up when she stands next to the closed door and hears him ask to fuck the mouth of whoever he’s with. Rage burns, the handle twisting and the door flying open. She’s greeted with you kneeling in front of Joel, his eyes trained on you with a lustful tenderness, mouth agape in awe.

The sound of the door smacking against the wall brings Joel’s attention away from the way you're taking the slow thrusts of his hips as he fucks your face. Immediately, he sees his wife standing in the doorway, shock, anger, and betrayal evident in her expression. His stomach rolls with anxiety, working quickly to push you off of him gently, tossing the throw blanket from the end of the bed in your direction to cover up. He scrambles to shove his still-hard dick back into his jeans and zips them up quickly, hands shamefully covering the bulge as he stands.

His mouth opens to try to excuse the pornographic sight that his wife’s just witnessed, but his brain is coming up empty. His eyes just shoot back and forth between the woman in the doorway wearing his ring and you, standing up from your knees with the blanket around your shoulders and a look of panic in your eyes. His hand twitches to reach for you, to comfort you, and his heart cracks at the glossiness in your eyes when you turn away from him.

The only sound to come is from his wife, her voice flat and resolute as she speaks directly to you.

“Please, get your shirt back on and go home.” She’s calm and resolute, with no malice in her voice as she demands you from her home. You oblige willingly and quickly, grabbing your top from the floor and slipping it over your head. You discard the blanket politely back on the bed, making eye contact with Joel one last burning time before turning to scurry out and back to your place across the street like a reprimanded child. Tears sting your eyes as you exit, the insides of you feeling like a storm at sea, uncertainty of what happens next for you and Joel thrashing around in your gut.

Back inside their shared home, Joel is still at the end of the bed. The situation has shriveled his arousal, the bulge in his jeans no more as his wife stares him down with indignance. She turns on her heel, a silent command for him to follow her as she makes her way downstairs. He climbs down the stairs petulantly, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for her to start screaming at him. He can’t find the energy to fight back if she does; he’d take it if it finally freed him of the mess that was his own creation.

Heather motions for him to sit in one of the wooden kitchen chairs; she leans back against the counter with her arms crossed over her chest. He plops down into the hard seat, a quiet sigh exhaled as he leans back, bracing himself for what is bound to ensue.

“Was this the first time?” Heather asks, voice steady, composed. Her eyes finally look at him, nothing given away from the empty stare in them.

He thinks about lying to spare her feelings, but the thought of continuing to suffer through sneaking around to be with you guides him into an honest answer. He’s going to give her the whole truth.

“No. No, this wasn’t the first time.”

“How long?”

He hesitates, the truth burning his throat as he prepares to confess that he’s never been a faithful husband, not when it came to you.

“Since the week after we got married.”

“Jesus Christ, Joel. Are you fucking kidding?”

He shakes his head, bowing it in shame as he continues his attempted repentance.

“I’m sorry. I know it probably means nothing to you, but I am sorry that I put you in this situation…We met when Ellie and I first stopped in Jackson to find Tommy. Before we went to, uh…I couldn’t stop thinking about her. But I didn’t think that I was good for her; I’m older, I have so much shit that I’ve done, and I didn’t think I could give her the life she wanted. When I came back, I tried to stay away. But when I saw her, I couldn’t help but be drawn to her. It was like a fucking magnet or gravitational pull. And well, eventually, I broke all my resolve. We slept together, out in the field behind the storage barn. I felt so fucking guilty afterward that I ignored her, for months. And, uh, I asked Tommy to set me up. Which is when I met you,” he interrupts his speech with a deep breath as he continues his full confessional, each sentence he speaks feeling like a brick being broken down from his walls.

“And I thought that if I made the decision to move on, to date, to get married, that we would both get over each other. I am so sorry that I did this to you. I just thought that you were a nice woman, you weren’t looking for anything really since you’d lived your life with your husband before. It was easy for me. Selfish, and easier than facing reality. But, when I went to check on her after she didn’t show up to work all week after we’d gotten married, we slept together again. And we kept meeting up in secret, having an affair. Have been for months.”

Heather continues her empty, faraway stare as she processes everything Joel’s just laid out in front of her. Silence falls over the room as he gives her time to formulate a response.

“Do you love her?”

That surprises him. Did she actually ask that? Is this the part where she screams and cries and shows her anger? His head shoots up from its hanging position and hands clasp together between his knees as he keeps eye contact with his wife across the room. He thinks back on all of the time you spent together and finally comes to admit what he’s known since that first conversation.

His voice breaks as he speaks, thick with the emotion that the first time he’s saying this is to the completely wrong person, “Yeah. I love her. With everything I have. I’d do anything for her.”

Heather nods shortly, arms uncrossing and dropping to her sides. She looks around the room, her brain working as she thinks about what to do.

“Okay. I’ll make it easy for you then. I’m leaving. We’re separating, since we were never legally married in the first place. If you can give me tonight, I’ll be out tomorrow. Just, I don’t know, ask Ellie to sleepover at Dina’s and spend the night at Tommy’s or at hers, I don’t really give a shit. Don’t come back until the morning, please.”

“I won’t. I’ll do whatever you need me to. I’m sorry again, Heather. I shouldn’t have made such a stupid, selfish decision.” Joel’s filled with genuine remorse, anguish flooding his gut about how to move forward from this.

She looks at him with pity, then her eyes move to the window in the direction of your house.

“It was selfish. And not just towards me.”

At that, she walks away from the kitchen and upstairs to start packing. Joel takes this as his moment to leave, wandering to go find Ellie to tell her to spend the night at Dina’s. He thinks about going to Tommy’s, to tell him everything even though Joel’s sure that he already knows. Instead, he continues to wander, not quite ready to face you and tell you what he’s been too foolish to admit to himself.

Taps sound softly against your front door, three quick and one lingering - Joel’s signature knock. The nerves tossing in your stomach ease at the thought of him being near again, only to wash right back when you open the door. It’s a split second that you see the heartache in his expression before he’s smiling with tender sympathy, but it sticks in your mind. Did he want to stay married that badly? Was this all just fun for him? Just an affair?

The thoughts tamper in your mind when he steps inside the entryway, brawny hands cupping your cheeks to study your eyes before they drop to your waist and wrap his arms around you in a secure embrace. His gentleness is enough to bring tears back to your eyes, some spilling over as he tucks his head into your neck and takes deep, shaky breaths. One of your hands caresses the back of his head, the other holding tightly to his bicep to keep him close. Nothing is said for minutes, the two of you standing there with the front door wide open.

It’s only when you hear his sniffle muffled against your neck, your immediate reaction is to hold him close and rasp out, “Oh, Joel…It’s okay. We’ll figure it out if you have to stay -- if it’s easier to…” You can’t bare to finish the sentence - if he had to stay with her, if he wanted to stay, you knew you couldn’t last.

He pulls out of the crook of your shoulder, glossy eyes meeting yours with deep contrite behind them. He shakes his head slowly, calloused fingers tracing along your jaw before cradling your cheek. You can see in his eyes the moment his heart breaks just a fraction more, and you’re convinced the next thing out of his mouth is going to be that he has to leave you, for good.

“Darlin’, no. That’s not why - I’m not - Shit, I’ve really messed this up.” He turns away from your stare, your anxiousness returning tenfold with this reaction. He takes your hand, shuts your front door gently, and guides you over to the sofa.

He sits first, delicately handling you into the spot next to him. He cheats his body towards you, hands intertwining with yours. You look down at his larger ones encompassing yours, placed together in your lap. His thumbs soothe your skin, lulling the tightness in your chest to relax some with the comfort of his touch.

“Look at me, sweet girl.”

His croony voice pulls your attention away, following the tender command. The twang of his voice is coming out more with his emotion and it tugs your heart that you only get to hear it at its purest when he’s upset.

“Did you think I was coming here to tell you I was staying with her?”

The directness of the question steals the air from your lungs, your mouth agape when you scramble to try to cover up the clearly obvious thoughts you were having. It was as if he was inside your head, and at this moment, you didn’t necessarily appreciate how vulnerable it made you feel. He takes your silence as an answer, nodding to himself while he murmurs under his breath. Joel takes a deep breath before his gaze locks on yours.

“She’s leaving me. I told her the whole truth. And now I’m here to tell you all of the truth that I told her. It’s the least that you deserve.”

His eyes have glossed over again, no tears daring to spill out -- he’s trying to keep it all in, but you can see his emotion despite his best efforts. You’ve never seen Joel this unguarded, and it breaks your heart that he’s feeling this pain. You want to tell him that he doesn’t have to tell you anything, that he doesn’t owe you anything. But you also don’t want to close him off again, to brush this all under the rug.

“I don’t want anyone else. I don’t need anyone else. I knew from that first conversation with you. That beautiful damn smile did me in the second I saw it. Hell, I’m pretty sure even Tommy and Ellie knew from that moment. I was so scared. I didn’t want to ever fail you, so I didn’t even give myself the chance to try…But I wanna try now. Completely. No more hiding, no more secrets. Just us. I love you, darlin’. Been in love with you for ages, I just couldn’t pull my head out of my ass long enough to say it to you.”

A jolt of adrenaline is shot through your body, jitters lightening your limbs as your heart beats faster. The words that you have been waiting for, dreaming of, just said so matter-of-factly by him. It feels like a figment of your imagination, so unbelievable to you at this moment that your hands reach for his chest, checking to make sure he’s really there.

A light chuckle leaves his mouth, his hands coming up to lay over yours, holding them against his pounding heartbeat. Once you believe that he’s really there, your eyes trace up from his chest. Pure affection oozes out of his brown eyes, the tiniest smile tugging the corners of his lips as he awaits your response.

You realize it’s been silent for a minute, the surprise of this conversation stealing your words. Hands press harder into his strong sternum, weight supported by him as you shift to kneel over him. You lean down and slant your mouth against his in a ghostly kiss. His mouth chases yours when you pull your head back, eyes locked into each other’s when you finally respond before kissing him passionately.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to realize that.”

It’s been a few weeks since that afternoon. Heather completely moved out of Joel’s, leaving the house with just him and Ellie again. He’s told Ellie, not the full extent of everything that’s happened because she’s only fifteen, but that he and Heather are separated and that the two of you are together. He knows she’s not naive, especially after all that she’s been through, but he couldn’t really find the courage to face her and tell her the whole truth about his stupidity. So, the rest of the gaps are to be filled in by inference or imagination.

He’s told Tommy the whole truth, though. Another reason for Maria to dislike him, especially because she was friendly with his now ex-wife. Tommy is his brother, at the end of the day, and despite him not condoning Joel’s actions over the last year, he’s said that he can’t help but feel relieved that this can all be put behind them. And that his brother, and you, his close friend, can be happy together.

Joel’s asked you to move in about four times now. Each time he asks, he knows the answer, but he can’t help but try again in the slight chance that it’s changed. You always tell him that you will, eventually, but you don’t think it’s the best idea right now. Especially with all of the shit that you have been getting that Joel seems to be ignoring.

Time passing means it’s also been a few weeks since you and Joel have been able to be around each other publicly. To express your affection, hold hands, kiss. It all feels so foreign - like you still have the risk of being caught when people look at the two of you. It doesn’t help with the glares or dirty looks you get from some people of Jackson. It festers the growing mold of insecurity in you, feeling the guilt of breaking up a marriage, even a loveless one.

The worst instances have been when you’ve been at work and Joel stops in, either on his own or with Tommy and some patrol guys. Nothing has changed from his routine before, but now he doesn’t have to hide his reactions to your hands brushing when you pass him a drink or wait around all night just to be able to kiss you and walk you home.

Joel’s handsy, to say the least. Especially with a drink or two in him. He’s constantly running a hand down your side or to your ass when you bring over a tray of drinks to the high-top table he and his buddies are at. Or he’s leaning over the counter to grab a kiss from you when you drop a glass of whiskey in front of him. He’s even gotten to a point where he was tipsy enough to climb behind the bar in the opening at the end, stealthily creeping up behind you as you organize glasses to wrap himself around you and give you a sloppy kiss. He’s cheered on by his cohort and all but chased out from behind the bar by his brother who grumbles annoyances as Joel shoots a cheeky wink in your direction.

All of his displays make you smile, and you haven’t been happier to finally have Joel to yourself and for everyone to know just how in love with you he is. But, it hasn’t made it any easier when you hear all of the nasty things said about you.

The worst of it comes one night when you’re working. Joel’s been put on an evening patrol shift, but he’d promised to swing by the Tipsy Bison to pick you up and take you back to his to spend the night.

Most of the shift comes and goes uneventfully - some friends stop in and keep you entertained for a few hours, the music playing not making you want to bang your head against the wall. Tommy’s working with you tonight, having taken some time off of patrol to help out more around the house and with his now one-year-old son. He approaches you at the bar polishing glasses, nodding to a group of women around a table that are on their fourth or fifth round of the night.

“Think you can take the next round over to them for me? Really gotta take a piss.” You laugh at Tommy’s excuse, nodding and taking the order from him.

“You could just ask, y’know. Didn’t need the extra information.” He rolls his eyes and quickly jets off to the bathrooms. You prepare the cocktails and grab the two beers from the fridge, arranging everything on a tray to make your way over to the ladies.

About three paces away, you tune into their conversation and your stomach sinks to your feet.

“Can you believe that she can still show her face around here? I would be holed up in my house if I were her.”

“She probably feels great about herself. I bet she’s going after the other brother now, have you seen them joking around all night with each other? She’s basically throwing herself at him. What a slut.”

“I think I’ll actually feel bad for Joel if that happens. But, you know what they say, once a homewrecker, always a homewrecker.”

“She probably gets off on being the mistress or something. Adds the excitement since she’s probably gotten fucked every which way at this point in her life.”

Tears prick your eyes and you blink them away, steel expression as you close in on the table. You stay silent as you deposit the drinks on the surface, turning away with the tray under your arm only to hear one of them shout after you.

“Homewrecking whore!”

They dissolve into cackles, the tables around them all now talking in hushed tones as they stare at you. The burn of humiliation creeps up your neck, watery eyes bubbling over. Don’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you break, you’re already pathetic enough right now without them seeing your face. Your legs book it into the bathroom after throwing the drink tray onto the counter, the black plastic skidding to a stop in front of the younger Miller.

Tommy’s heard what was shouted, the bullies snickering away and satisfied. Anger bites in his throat and he holds back from shouting across the room. Instead, he saunters over and starts picking up the nearly full drinks onto the tray again, the group staring at him incredulously.

“Excuse me, we’re drinking those?”

He simply shakes his head, smiling politely at them.

“Nah, you’re leaving. Now. And you’re gonna stop harassing people if you wanna come back.”

At that he walks away, dumping the drinks in the back bar sink and watching the group exit in a huff.

When you come out of the bathroom puffy-eyed and see the empty table, the thought occurs to you that Tommy must have said something. You give him an appreciative smile, and he says nothing more of it for the rest of the shift.

Your mind continues to replay all of the horrible things they said about you, starting to wonder if there was a layer of truth to it. You were distracted for the rest of the night and when you escaped back to the stock room to pull what was needed at the end of the night, Tommy took the opportunity to pull Joel aside when he walked through the doors to pick you up.

“Don’t tell her that I told you this, but something happened at work tonight.” Tommy keeps his voice down from the lingering patrons, one arm across his torso, the other holding his hand to his mouth to pinch his lip. His eyes dance around to make sure there’s no one eavesdropping.

“What? What are you saying, what happened? Is she okay?” Joel’s brow furrows, feet stepping towards the back to find you. He worries immediately, his mind used to jumping to the worst scenarios from the shit that he’s seen.

“She’s in one piece, quit panicking. Just, some unsavory things were said. There’re this group of women that were drunk, but I think they said some stuff about her. All I heard was what they shouted at her when she walked away, called her a ‘homewrecking whore.’”

Joel grimaces, his heart breaking at the thought of you being subjected to such torment. His temper swells in his chest, and his first thought was to go find whoever it was and sling insults right back to them. It wasn’t even true, he was the one who got you all into that mess, but of course, to an outsider looking in, they were going to blame the third party involved in a marriage that fell apart.

Joel nods in understanding, not willing to dare repeat what Tommy said, the words sitting bitterly in his mouth while he leans against the counter waiting for you.

Your eyes are trained down when you enter the main room again, counting the stock of the bottles in your hands under your breath. At someone’s throat clearing, your head snaps up and the slightest smile grows on your face at the sight of Joel leaning over the bar with a gentle, boyish grin.

“Hey, sweet girl. Boss man says you can head home early with me.” He jerks his head in Tommy’s direction, his brother smiling with a hand raised in a wave. You smile wider, waving your thanks back as you set the box of bottles on the counter. Making your way out and over to Joel, his arms scoop you up against him with a sigh of contentment.

“Missed you, darlin’. You ready to head home?” His lips press into your hair at the top of your head, the tiniest bit of tension from the night relaxing in his embrace.

“Ready. Let’s go home, cowboy.” Joel chuckles lightly at the nickname, keeping one arm wrapped around you as you both start down the gravel street. He recounts his shift with you, telling you about a family of bunnies he saw to cheer you up and cracking a couple of jokes. You barely smile in his direction, laughing a beat too late when you register that he’s been jesting with you, much too quiet for your normal, bubbly self. You act completely cold about it all, with no anger or emotion burning in you to share with him. It squeezes his chest, the fact that you’re in pain and keeping it distant from him. Those horrible fucking words that he wishes he could just wipe from your brain sit sour in his mouth. All he wants is to block them out so you never have to hear them again because they are the furthest thing from the truth.

He wishes you would tell him what happened tonight; you feign an uneventful evening when he asks about your night. All he wants to do is reassure you, but without you opening up, he doesn’t want to push you if you don't want to talk about it.

The two of you walk into his house, trailing up lazily to the bedroom. Per your request, the room has been rearranged and the bedding has been changed to an extra set you had at home, making the space once again solely Joel’s. Instead of bits of her sprinkled into the space, there are pieces of you lying around that make his heart beat a little faster and a smile crosses his face each time he notices them. Clothes in his dresser, earrings on the nightstand, the book you’re reading on the desk where it’d been left this morning.

Changing from your work clothes, you leave them hanging over the chair. Your pajamas are a pair of boxers that he hasn't touched since moving to Jackson and one of his old t-shirts, the fabric worn in just the right way to make it ideal for sleeping. He strips down, slipping on a pair of grey sweats and staying shirtless. He crawls onto his unmade bed, peeling back your side, and patting your spot, a soft smile on your face as you take the invitation.

Joel’s hands find your waist, bunching up the cotton of his t-shirt to press his palms to your warm skin. He dips his head down to your chest, nuzzling his hooked nose against your breasts. He presses sweet kisses to the soft cushiony tissue, forehead resting on your sternum. He hums against the fabric covering you, lifting his hands at your hips to pull the hem further up. You relax under his affection, quiet, breathy sighs leaving your lips.

“My sweet girl, can I help get you out of your head?” Joel’s question sends a wave of arousal between your legs, his broad frame rolling you from your side to your back. He moves to hover over your form from the side, hands coasting over your curves. Thumbs tweak your nipples through your shirt, a whimper falling from your lips. Your complete trust and devotion stare back at him as you fully comply with his request.

“Please distract me.”

Joel groans at your submission, eyes blown wide with hunger and awe.

“Gonna give you exactly what you need to feel better, baby. Gonna remind you how much I love you.” He pulls your shirt over your head, tossing it over the side of the bed. Lips attach to the supple peaks of your breasts, sucking gently and pulling moans from your lips. He works the opposite one with his fingers, swapping his attentive mouth when he feels you arch your back to press your chest into his face. His lips separate from your nipple, hot open-mouthed kisses trailing down your stomach. Every few, Joel’s tongue slips out and skates against your skin, the sensation rippling goosebumps along the surface.

Once he reaches the waist of the boxer shorts you’ve got on, he sits up to admire your form under him. The spots of his saliva glisten in the low, yellow lamplight, your breasts perked up as they rise and fall with your shallow breaths. His fingers hook into the elastic band, slipping them down and sending you soft praise when you lift your hips for him.

“Good girl.”

The shorts join your shirt, rumpled on the floor somewhere. Joel sits back on his heels, gripping your ankles gently to bend your knees and spread your legs open for him. You mold to his positioning like clay, one leg falling to the side lazily to put your glistening cunt on display for him. His tongue wets his lips as he drinks the sight of you up, wishing he was any good at drawing or painting so that he could reproduce you like the work of art you are.

His touch floats up your calves and your velvety thighs, focus zeroing in on the dripping folds in front of him. He shimmies down the bed onto his tummy, arms hooking under your thighs to pull you closer to him. He rests on his elbows partially, and you watch as his gaze becomes fully entranced by the vision of your wet arousal that is all for him.

“You’re so beautiful, darlin’. Everything about you, but especially this gorgeous pussy of yours. She’s just weeping for me, isn’t she? You want me to take care of her? Show her she’s mine? Show you how much I love you?” His words only cause more dampness to flood your core, soft whines drawing out of you as you move to sit up. You lean back on your hands, desperate to watch every detail unfold of your man worshipping you from between your legs.

“Please, Joel. Pretty please,” you mewl.

A satisfied smirk crosses his face, loving how desperate you get for him. His eyes fall to the space between your legs, his mouth salivating. He leans in, letting spit drip onto the coarse curls that cover your mound, his hardening cock twitching as part of him coats your sex, marking you as his in addition to the love bites waxing and waning in phases across your body. He reaches a hand around your leg, coating his fingers with your wetness and using it to mix and smear his spit and your arousal all over the hair and skin there.

He presses a delicate kiss to your hood, the contact sending a jolt to your thighs and jerking your hips. One large hand pushes down on your stomach to keep you in place as he swipes his tongue from your taint to your clit, the tip of it slipping in to tease your entrance as it skates along through your slick. He savors the taste of you, a sharp sweetness that’s become his favorite flavor.

A groan rumbles from his chest, vibrating against you before his mouth sucks at your clit. Moans tumble from your mouth, breath hitching as you inhale when his tongue moves down, pressing into your entrance slightly. Like eating ice cream in a heatwave, he moves to catch any dripping arousal with his mouth or chin, your name falling from his lips as he feels himself achingly hard in his sweatpants against the mattress. He starts to fuck his hips into the cushiony material, tongue easily slipping in and out as he starts to thrust in your cunt.

“Fucking love your little sounds. Love how sweet you are for me, darlin’. Never gonna get enough.”

Fingers work circles in your clit, the motions tightening the knot in your stomach. Your head falls back with a moan of Joel’s name, chest rising and falling rapidly as you try to keep breathing while your pleasure builds its pressure inside of you. His mouth and fingers swap positions, suckling at your clit with lewd noises while two of his large fingers slide in between your walls. His hand fucks your tight pussy, praises rasped against your mound as he takes a breath to press kisses against the curls there. Another finger is added, the girth of all three working you towards your bliss.

“Fuck, ‘m so close, baby. Gonna come, oh my god. Feel so good.” Your voice is high-pitched, whining as the pressure pushes harder inside of you, taut coils ready to snap.

Joel looks up at you, pupils completely blown wide in ecstasy. His hips still work his hard cock against the mattress, his own release building inside of him.

“Be my sweet girl, come on my mouth.”

With his words and his lips attached to your cunt again, the pressure built in you releases with a mind-clearing, blinding pop. Your wanton moans echo in the room, the bawdy sounds of your pleasure and your wetness mixing together as Joel continues to work you through your orgasm.

His hips move faster as he watches you come undone from his handiwork, the noises you’re making sending him over the edge. He comes in his sweatpants with a moan of your name, dry humping the mattress like a teenager. He feels like he should be embarrassed, but after all that he just witnessed from you, it’s a miracle he didn’t bust when you simply opened your legs for him.

Untangling himself from you, he excuses himself to the bathroom to clean himself up, throw his pants in the hamper and grabs a warm, damp washcloth for you. He patters back over to the bed and takes care of you, discarding the washcloth and gently closing your legs. He climbs back into bed with you, pulling the covers up once again. He nestles in behind you, curling his frame around you protectively. Your mind’s foggy from your orgasm and exhaustion floods over your body, no protest from you as you start to drift. He nuzzles into your hair, pressing a delicate kiss at the back of your neck as he whispers to you.

“It’s only you, darlin’.”

Another month passes after that night at the bar where you heard what was being said about you around town. The gossiping didn’t stop, especially when people found out that you had finally caved in from Joel’s relentless (yet charming) pleads and agreed to move in with him and Ellie.

Everyone seemed to have an opinion on how fast you both had moved, how you were shoving everything in his ex-wife’s face, how you were staking your claim so publicly and like a “whore.” Whatever it all meant, it was heard in whispers at the bar, in the market, in town meetings, you name it. If you were present, people were talking.

It influenced you the more you heard it; the repetition of it all made it sound like truth to your weak mind. You kept these feelings of guilt and shame inside, burying them deep in an attempt to keep everything copacetic for Joel. He was happy these days, smiling more and cracking jokes. He was more involved in the community and Ellie also found her place with Joel behind her and fully content in Jackson. You dreaded being the one to cause any more problems than you already did for the last year and a half, so you shut your mind up in an attempt to compartmentalize.

If Joel didn’t know what all was being said, that was for the best. You weren’t going to be the one to burst the love bubble that he had for you, so you were just going to keep cool and try to get out of your head about everything that was left undiscussed.

But, that only made going into town and going to work hell. You weren’t acting like yourself anymore, no small talk with customers or catching up with neighbors and friends that would come to visit you. You did your job and walked home each night silently, even when you were with Joel. Every shift you would hear some new comment or rumor about you, adding it to the file that you had accumulated in your mind. Your subconscious flicked through it every night in your dreams, pulling out some of the worst to relive when you should have been dreaming of being happy with the man lying beside you.

The guilt was pulling you under, each new comment acting like a brick to weigh you down into the sea of liability and disgrace you were lost in. There was shame over how you were characterized in the outcome of all of this, guilt over breaking up his marriage, anxiety over becoming a burden to Joel and anchoring him down into the depths again. You’d thought it all would wash away with the changing of tides, since you and Joel could be together openly, but it only brought you to the ocean floor while Joel was floating on the waves above you.

It was an evening that Joel had off, opting to stay in and play Boggle with Ellie. You left the two of them to head to work after playing a few rounds yourself, both you and Ellie completely annihilating Joel. The acid in your stomach sloshed around, pressure building in your torso and pushing the burning sensation up your chest and into your throat as your steps closed in on the Tipsy Bison. Your tongue feels heavy and dry in your mouth, breaths jagged as you attempt to calm yourself outside the wooden building. You stand there for what feels like an hour, wrangling all your anxiety into a small lump in your throat. This is where it would sit for the rest of the night until you could finally let it all back out on your walk home.

The beginning of your shift was normal, nothing said to or about you. That all changed, though, when the person you least expected to see comes and sits on the stool in front of where you’re polishing glasses.

Heather.

Your eyes widen in surprise and nervousness, the lump in your throat starting to seep its way back into the burning acid of your stomach and the tightness of your chest. Ears brace themselves for either an insult or something degrading to be thrown your way. After a beat of silence, you scramble to resolve the awkward tension.

“I can get Tracy to serve you, she’s just over--”

“No, no that’s not necessary. If you’re fine with serving me, that is.”

You nod quickly to relieve the discomfort, your people-pleasing tendencies rearing their ugly head. You actually don’t want to be serving her, but you also really don’t want more drama to inevitably spread about you walking away to get someone else for her - there’s no chance that it wouldn’t be spun against you.

“Um, yeah no, totally cool. What can I get ya?”

She gives you her order and you quickly make it up, depositing the glass in front of her. Silence falls between the two of you again, but this time she’s the one to break it.

“So, um, how are you? How’s work?”

The questions take you off-guard. You were friendly with Heather before, as her neighbor you would bring over extra garden crops and she would offer to mend clothes of yours. She was always polite and made small talk with you. Well, that was before she knew you were fucking her husband.

“It’s good, I guess. Not much to change around here. How’re things at school? You’re still teaching there?”

You're an idiot. Why are you continuing this conversation as if you guys are long-time acquaintances? You’re trying to be cool about it, just ignore the elephant in the room, but something’s gotta give at one point, right?

“Things are great. We’ve got some open volunteer positions if you’d be interested. It wouldn’t be with me if that’s a concern.”

“No - no. I mean, I’d love to volunteer for Ellie’s class if there’s anything…” you trail off, the thorny pricks of awkwardness becoming too much for you. You start to speak, only to hear Heather at the same time.

“Listen, I really am sor--”

“It’s not all your fault--”

The two of you laugh lightly, tension coating the conversation. Your eyes glance around at anything but Heather’s face before finally meeting her gaze and nodding for her to go first.

She clears her throat, adjusting her position on the stool before starting again.

“It’s not all your fault that my marriage fell apart. I mean, yeah, you’ve got some culpability in the fact that you were having an affair with Joel, but he also told me that you had been with him before we even dated. And, as a woman myself and someone who fell for Joel, my best guess is that you’ve been in love with him since that first time. And Joel told me - what he felt for you the whole time, too. I just, I wanted to say to you that I don’t blame you. Joel is the one who made a stupid, selfish decision that affected both of us. Having an affair with him? Yeah, not really great, but I’ve thought about it for a while, and I would’ve done the same if it were my first husband. He was the love of my life, and I never wanted to lose him. So, yeah. I wanted to tell you that I understand. And I completely despise what everyone says about you. It’s disgusting, and I’m so sorry you have to hear that all the time.”

She’s apologizing to you. The woman whose husband you had an affair with. Granted, she was right that you were together once before they even dated. And that you’ve loved him ever since. But there is actually no sane world in which she should be apologizing to you. Have you made the impression that you were expecting this? Was she feeling guilty towards you?

All of these thoughts eat away at you, crashing around your mind and making that burning pressure alive again in your gut. You chew your lip, eyes wide, and stare a thousand miles away. Remorse overtakes your mind, words caught in your throat.

Why couldn’t she have just come in here guns blazing? Screamed at you? Called you all those names you’ve heard for weeks?

Her being cruel would be way better than her being kind, understanding even.

It makes your chest tighten, air squeezed out of your lungs in a panic.

You have to say something, so your voice squeaks a response.

“Thank you. I’m so sorry, too. I really didn’t want to hurt you, I just-I couldn’t let him go.”

Heather nods, a glint of a past life in her eyes. She presses her lips in a tight line before exhaling deeply. Standing from the stool, she nods again, giving you a quick goodbye and making her way out.

She really only came here to say that to you. To apologize.

You're an utter piece of shit, guilt, and shame finally filling your lungs and stealing your breath away from you.

Quickly, you turn to your nearest coworker, mumbling out an excuse that you need to leave early. Instead of waiting for any confirmation, you all but run out of the building, feet carrying you past Joel’s house with the lights still on, and past your old little cottage that now sits dormant. The overgrown lawn tugs at your heart, begging you to take care of it again. You turn back towards Joel’s, seeing him laughing with Ellie through the window, and the tugs on your heart pull harder towards them.

You pass the residential area, approaching the site you haven’t seen in months. Following around the tattered, weather-worn red siding of the old barn, the open grazing field comes into full view. You climb over the split-rail fence, mind reeling over what tonight has entailed while muscle memory carries you to the small clearing in the tall grasses.

Not even realizing you were holding your breath, a sigh escapes your lips. Dewy earth dampens the seat of your jean shorts, the sticky summer air keeping you warm. Thighs press to your chest and your arms envelope around your knees. You rest your chin in between your kneecaps, eyes combing up to the night sky above you. The lack of light pollution these days has made the stars brighter against the deep blue atmosphere. They blur from the tears welling in your eyes, one blink creating tiny streams on your face. They feed into the ocean of guilt and shame that you’ve made your home, the feeling of it’s waters choking your lungs to breath out sobs.

You sit like that for a while, fuzzy constellations kaleidoscoping in your vision. Your attention is only pulled away from the midnight blue when you hear a twig snap. Turning over your shoulder, the back of you hand wipes your eyes clear to see Joel standing behind you. Hands in the front pockets of his jeans, he stands tense and looks down at you softhearted and doleful.

Without an invitation, he closes the gap between you, groaning quietly as he bends down to take the spot next to you. You’re transported back to countless nights before, Joel and you under the same sky to spend your fleeting time together before sunrise.

“Got real worried when you didn’t come home when you usually do. Checked the bar first, and your old place. Guess I should’ve had the thought to come here a lot sooner.” His voice is low, gentle timbre vibrating the tightness in your chest and giving some slack to the taut pull of it.

“‘M sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you, I just--I couldn’t go home right away. I didn’t want to ruin your night with Ellie…” your own voice is meek, cracking slightly from disuse. You sniffle, the back of your hand swiping under your nose and the heel of your palm rubbing the tear stains from your cheeks. The evidence of your emotion makes you embarrassed; here you were, your anxious fears coming true -- you’re officially a burden to Joel. He’s had to cut his night short with his daughter, traipsing around town to try to find you because you couldn’t bother to swallow your sorrow and head home like normal.

“Darlin’, you don’t need to apologize. It’s okay that you needed time alone, but even if you had come home, you wouldn’t have ruined our night. We love you…” he clears his throat, tender touches tucking hair behind your ears and rubbing the nape of your neck before continuing, “What’s wrong, baby? What’s got you so upset?”

“It’s nothin’. It’s nothin’, I’m fine. Just, tough night at work…” You lie through your teeth, avoiding Joel’s gaze to keep the facade. One look in your eyes and you know he’d see right through you.

“It’s clearly not nothin’ if you’re crying about it, darlin’. You can tell me anything. I wanna help you, be there for you, protect you. Did someone say something to you? Something mean?”

Your eyes snap up to him, the knowing look on his face cluing you in that he’s known about what’s being said around town. You don’t really know what hurts more in the moment - the fact that he knew all of these horrible things were being said and he didn’t comfort you or that you’ve already been a burden to him, already been another problem for him for much longer than you thought.

You think about lying to him, but you know he would be able to tell - he can always tell - instead opting to just break down the damn of everything you’ve been feeling, letting it all rush out at once.

“It’s all of it. Everything that people are saying about me, it feels like it’s the truth. I did break up a marriage. I did have an affair for months with you; you were someone’s husband. I love you, but it doesn’t negate the fact that what happened was still wrong on some level. And what everyone’s saying about what I did, it’s made this sea of guilt and shame and I’m drowning in it. I can’t keep my head clear above water, it’s all consuming right now. And I feel so anxious about being a burden to you. You’ve been so happy lately, with us being together and living together and Ellie being adjusted. You’re so much lighter, floating even. I couldn’t bear to drag you under with me when you finally caught your breath.” It all tumbles out of you in a stream of consciousness, and in the end, Joel is silent as he takes it all in.

The thought occurs to you that you’ve been wanting to know how Joel has felt about all of it. You haven’t talked about it at all; if he felt just the same guilt and shame, maybe it could help you both work to absolve your sins. If you were in it together, then maybe you had a chance to make it to land.

“Sweet girl, I hate that you’ve been feeling that way. And I hate that you thought you couldn’t tell me, just cause I’ve been happy to have you finally and I feel like we’re creating a lil’ family. But, I have to say, I ain’t got any regrets. I’ve got you now, I’ve got you in our home and with my daughter, it’s all that matters to me. I couldn’t care less about anything that people are saying about you, it makes me pissed, but getting angry at ‘em just fuels the fire. We can just move on, darlin’. We should just live our lives, fuck whoever doesn’t want to be happy for us.”

Bile creeps up and scorches your throat, a whirlpool swirling in your stomach and the choking feel back in your lungs. You hold it all in, letting Joel wrap his arms around you and pull you up to take you home.

Does he really have no regrets? Would he still get married if he was given another chance? Would he still choose to put you through this pain that has been a constant dull in your heart for the last year and a half? Would he choose the path that makes you the target of so much contempt, disgust, antipathy from so many?

Those thoughts have plagued you for days now. You had swallowed your searing pain, the guilt cold in your lungs as the hurt settled in your stomach, seeping throughout your body to make your limbs tender and heavy. Every step felt like it took too much effort, every fake smile plastered on your face made your cheeks sore in the wrong way. You had become a method actor in your own life, optimistic contentment used as a mask to hide the truth. You went through the motions of the days off you had, enjoying breakfast with Joel and Ellie, laughing at their bickering, and making them both their favorite way to eat eggs - Joel’s scrambled and Ellie’s over medium. You were a family, just as Joel had said, and you were playing the role of the dutiful, delighted partner.

Once they both left for the day, you deflated. Took off the mask and stared at yourself in the mirror, taste of bitter metal in your mouth as you watched the remorse, the regret crawl out of your chest and into your eyes, across your face. It disgusted you, angered you, yet you forced yourself to study it, punished yourself because everyone had told you that you should.

That was how it had gone for the last handful of days. Today was your first day back at work, and you got ready outside of the bathroom to avoid facing the hideous manifestations of your sins. Exiting your shared bedroom, your face pulled tight again, smile ghosting across your lips and eyes crinkled with subtle joy. Joel was standing at the bottom of the stairs, kneeling to lace up his boots. At the sight of you, he grinned and stood up, hands reaching for your waist and pulling you in for a chaste kiss.

Part of you wondered if he could taste it on you - the bitter, sour feeling that sat in your mouth. How much his lack of regret had crumbled any resolve you had left, any room for forgiveness you had in yourself.

He walked you to work before heading off on patrol. Walking inside, you instantly wanted to turn back and hide away at home for weeks longer. The thought of having to keep up your act for the whole night was making you nauseous. An hour into your shift, you couldn’t take the feeling anymore, so you snuck a shot of whiskey to attempt to take the edge off. The tingle of the alcohol soothed the lump in your throat, warming your cold chest and settling your woozy stomach. It gave you a break, for just a moment.

You chased that moment of peace all night, taking pulls whenever you could. You chatted more with patrons and coworkers, bubbling up giggles as your brain shut off from your inebriation. It was so tranquil to not have that frigid shame in your lungs, the thoughts of all that has been said to hurt you in the last few months silenced, even the voice of Joel saying he has zero regrets about what he’d done is muffled.

No wonder why Joel got drunk all the time at the beginning of this. It’s the only medicine that works for guilt.

By the end of your shift, you’re nearly wasted. Not quite to a level where you’ve lost motor skills but to the point where your eyes lids feel heavy, your vision is blurred on the edges, and your words start to slur together. When you’ve snuck to the backroom to take another swig, pushing the limit of how drunk you can get in the next ten minutes before your shift ends, Joel saunters into the bar. His eyes scan the room for any sight of you, pouting slightly when he comes up empty. Tommy’s working tonight, so he makes his way over to the end of the bar where his brother stands. Joel leans against the counter, nodding a greeting to Tommy and asking where you’re at.

Tommy looks at him, lips pressed together and eyebrows raised. He glances back at the entrance to the stockroom before leaning in.

“She’s back there. Probably downing a couple more shots of whiskey.”

Joel’s eyes widen and his brow shoots up, a look of shock at what Tommy’s said. It’s not like you to drink at work, hell, you barely ever have a nightcap when the place is all cleared out. Joel can count the number of times he’s seen you drunk on one hand, and this is certainly not an occasion that would have you indulging. He clears his throat, eyes focused back on his brother.

“She’s drinking at work? Is she drunk?”

As Tommy opens his mouth to respond, the door to the stockroom swings on its hinges and you stumble out while whistling. The moment would normally make Joel chuckle, the way you’re completely carefree is somewhat endearing to him. But right now, he can’t help but worry that something else has happened to make you upset, and this time you’ve taken a coping mechanism out of his book.

Your mouth forms a perfect circle, surprise washing over your expression as you look around for anyone to share your reaction. A small burp comes from behind the hand you put up to your mouth, down turning your gaze away from him. Feet shuffle along to Joel, arms crossing over your chest as if the warmth in your chest will heat you up like sitting in front of a fire.

“Well, hello there, darlin’. Feeling good?” He chuckles lightly to hide his concern, Tommy backing up from the two of you and quickly making an exit from what is bound to be a bit of an awkward moment.

Painted smile on your face that doesn’t reach your eyes, hand reaching for his as a hiccup shoots from your chest.

“Guess so. Turned my brain off for the night, ‘was nice.” It was just what he was panicked about. That you had done what he had done so many months ago, gotten drunk out of his mind to grapple with all the remorse he had felt constantly.

He hated that you felt the same. He was the reason you were going through this. His actions hurt you, even beyond the time that you were his secret. He failed to pull you out with himself, leaving you to take on the weight of all that he had done, sinking you deeper while he had made it to the surface.

A stiff smile stretches across his face, hand reaching for the small of your back to guide you home.

“Alright, let’s get you home, sweet girl. Think you might need to clock out for the night.” He sends Tommy a wave and you turn to do the same, tripping over your feet. Joel catches you at your waist, righting you on your way out. He keeps a hand on you, eyes trained on your profile to keep watch. You keep your stare ahead, silencing falling over the two of you.

The fresh air has sobered you up some, thoughts infesting your mind again. The alcohol has kept you from getting back into the act that you’ve kept up around Joel, even working your blood to boil with anger towards him for the words that have been branded into your heart.

I ain’t got any regrets.

“Fucking bullshit.” You think out loud and the words stop Joel in his tracks. Brows furrow in confusion as his lips pucker to one side.

“What’s that, darlin’?”

“It’s fucking bullshit, Joel.”

He laughs apprehensively, unsure of where this is going. The words cut with bitterness behind them, and he can see in your eyes there’s pain burning.

“I’m sorry, baby, but I’m gonna need a little more from you.” He tilts his head to the side, the line between his brow deepening.

You can’t hold it in any longer, a river of anguish, guilt, pain, and more rushing out of you.

“How you just can get over it! We can just act like everything’s fine and nothing is fucked up about the way we got together! And you can feel all the relief of not having to hide an affair from your wife anymore and not hiding me, but now I’ve been passed the massive fucking weight. Now I’m known as the homewrecker, the slut, the mistress. You’re still Joel. It’s always ‘There’s Joel and the homewrecker. She’s so bold to be able to be with him after she broke apart a marriage.’ It feels like I’m barely keeping my head above water sometimes like this huge sea of guilt is going to drown me. I can’t understand how you can just have no regrets about it all when it’s hurt me so much. How I loved you, still love you so fucking much despite how much pain you’ve given to me. Purposefully or not, it all hurts the same. I’m so glad that you can show everyone that you love me, but I can’t keep pretending like we’re the picture-perfect couple and make a home together and live life now without addressing all of this shit. I can’t just pretend to be cool about it anymore.”

Tears have poured out of your eyes in the middle of everything, mixing with the runny nose that you sniffle back. You probably look a mess, but you can’t bring yourself to wipe it away. You want the sight to face Joel along with your words. You need him to see it all, to realize how much you’ve been harboring, how badly you need him to take some of the weight off of your chest before the water fully fills your lungs and takes you under completely.

Joel's tears burn his own eyes as he sees exactly what his stupidity has caused. He thought he could help you get over it by acting like he had moved on in hopes that you would do the same. That you guys could start fresh, leave it all behind. It was another stupid choice that he’d made. Of course, you couldn’t leave everything in the past; the way you built your relationship was in secret, hidden away. Of course, you should have been given reassurance when the two of you could finally be together. He should’ve shut everyone up instead of hoping that the insults and rumors would die out. Would’ve, could’ve, should’ve.

He had more regrets now than he ever did.

His voice is thick when he finally responds, hand reaching up to grasp at the nape of your neck and the other on your cheek, holding your gaze in his.

“Of course I have regrets. I said that to try to put that thought in your head. I thought if you heard that I felt that way, you would start to feel it, too. That you could let go, be the carefree, light person that I fell in love with. That I am in love with. I am so sorry that you feel like you are carrying this all by yourself. I have so much remorse for the past. I tell myself every day that if I could go back, I would have never doubted what we could be together. That you loved me completely, that I wouldn’t fail you. I choose you, over it all. I love you so much, and I am so sorry that I’ve hurt you. You don’t ever have to pretend around me. I’m the only other person who could understand what you’re feeling, I want you to tell me everything. Yell at me, cry about it to me, whatever you need to do. But please, don’t keep it from me. I should’ve reassured you. I should’ve been honest with you. I should’ve protected you, told everyone in this fucking town what I think of anything they have to say. I am so sorry that I failed you. You’re it for me. This has to work. I will do anything to make this work and to make you happy, 'cause I have no clue what I’d do without you. I finally have my shot at a life with you, and I’m not giving that up.”

His words drive a knife into your chest - you realize that his biggest fear has come true. He’s failed you. Or thinks he’s failed you.

Yes, his actions have hurt you, but for a long time, you were choosing the pain. And yes, you’ve taken on the guilt for both of you, and you realize you are still choosing the pain, but this time it's all too much to take on alone.

Not once did you think he failed you. You’ve thought you would fail him, dull him, lose him. That you couldn’t work through your own shit to be happy with him. Both of you have avoided communicating and miscommunicated at the same time.

The two of you have been so absorbed in trying to give the other what you thought they needed, that you’ve ended up doing the opposite.

Truth was, that you both needed the same things from each other. You needed the other to fully knock down the walls, to be vulnerable, to be honest. You both tried so hard to placate the other, to make the other one feel better about everything, that you’ve ended up on completely opposite ends.

You can’t help but laugh. Only the two of you could be so troubled with trying to make the other happy, at ease, or content that you end up making it worse. It hasn't been easy for the last year and a half, and as soon as it could be, you've found ways to complicate it.

Joel stares at you quizzically, the sound relaxing his concern. He can’t help the grin that tugs at his lips, shaking his head in disbelief at you.

“Okay, did I say something funny? Or wrong? Is this whole thing about to be over and you’re laughing maniacally?”

That makes you giggle more, tears of laughter now rolling down your perked-up face. You catch your breath, inhaling a few times through your chuckles to finally calm down enough to speak. You press your hands to his chest in reassurance, shaking your head with a genuine smile aching your cheeks.

“No, no. Absolutely not. That was - that was exactly what I needed to hear. I just - I’m sorry, I’m laughing because we are both so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, sweet girl, it’s only me --”

“Nah, uh huh. Both. I don’t mean to call you stupid, maybe silly is a better word. We’ve just -- we’ve been so focused on trying to spare the other, to make the other happy that we’ve totally missed what we both needed. And what we need from each other is exactly the same.”

“And what is that?” His confusion has lessened, but still hasn’t left. What’s vanished has been replaced with a content smirk quipped up to the side.

“Being honest. Being vulnerable. Communicating. I should have told you how I was feeling this whole time so that you could understand, and I should have known that I could come to you even though I thought I would be a burden. I'm sorry I didn't realize that sooner. We're in this together.”

The light bulb goes off for him, eyes brightening as he comes to his own realization.

“No need to apologize, darlin'. Like you said, 'm just as guilty in this mess. We chose each other -- we should be partners, not adversaries. I should’ve been honest about how I felt about everything that happened. I shouldn’t've pretended everything was fine.”

You nod, tender smile as you stare into his eyes. Your expressions have softened, tears have dried, and every bit of pain has been replaced with forgiveness, perspective, and love. Joel chuckles himself, and you break into a fit of giggles together.

“God, we really are a pair of fools, huh?” Joel’s voice is light, teeth pulling his bottom lip under them as he gazes down at you in his arms.

“Wound up as bad comedians mocking our own lives. The creators of our own suffering.”

“Wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else, darlin’. But, do you think we could come up with something new? Maybe something actually fun?”

That makes you laugh again, Joel’s chest warming at your joy. His hands fall from your neck and face, snaking around your waist to hold you close. You nod in agreement with a gentle, content grin.

“Only the good stuff from here on out. Maybe we can even sprinkle in some shitty puns?”

“Oh yeah? Got any on your mind? Hit me, I’ll decide if it gets added to the act.”

You think for a moment, a cheeky smirk twisting your mouth.

“Hmm…how about “You must be a planet, and I must be a moon, 'cause I totally revolve around you!”

Joel’s head rolls back with a grumble of laughter, a grimace on his face once he looks at you again, shaking his head.

“'M sorry, darlin’, but that is so bad.”

“Okay, well you try it then!” The two of you start your walk back to your home, tangled up in each other. You pinch his side at the rejection, looking up expectantly.

“What did Neil Armstrong say when no one laughed at his moon jokes? I guess you had to be there!” He laughs as if it’s the funniest thing, and the dad joke gives you the slightest chuckle.

“Oh, c’mon, how is that any better than mine?”

“Cause it’s actually funny! Can’t help that I’m such a natural-born comic.”

“That is such a lie. You definitely got that from ‘No Pun Intended: Volume Too.’ I know your sources, Miller.”

“Fine, fine. You got me there. Guess we'll just have to let Ellie choose the winner.”

You smile at the thought of returning home to her, warmth in your chest melting some of the guilt away as you reach the door. The two of you tumble inside together, giggling away. You toe off your shoes, and Joel watches from the entryway as he unties his boots. Flopping down on the couch next to his daughter, you’re immediately rolling into the story behind the little competition that she’s going to be the judge of. He takes in the sight under the warm lamplight, happiness swelling in his chest as he watches the two people in front of him start to playfully bicker back and forth about the best kind of joke.

It might not be a sheep ranch on the moon, but it’s certainly his dream come true.

taglist: @joelsversion @swiftispunk @beskarandblasters @aleatoria2000 @thelightnessofthebeing @mangosandmimosas @runestavia @dianaffddz @beee-haw @bigboiseason123 @xyz32 @mrsvedder12 @tuquoquobrute @moriartyyouwhore @justsumtuffstuff @tryingtonotcryconstantly @alymaliktommo @cambleuu @iwrotethissky @pascalislove @pedr0swh0r3 @agentwhiskeysgf @jenna-ortega @juniperandthornz @wildwollff @pascals-djarin @missfeanor @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @lil-stark @gracie7209 @pedrostories @nic0lodean @mymultiveres @v-mack @theelishad @cutie-with-that-booty @danelleee @harriedandharassed @mingiast (tagging some more mutuals, lmk if you want to be removed <3) @johnwatsn @undrthelights @ladamedusoif @pedrit0-pascalit0 @ruinedbylanadelrey @thetriumphantpanda @pedgeitopascal @midnightswithdearkatytspb @dinsdjrn @thepascalofus @pedgito @soaringcloud @somedayauthor @alloftheimagines @pr0ximamidnight

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quietblueriver · 4 months

Note

not sure if you're still taking one word prompts... but if you are, then how about "warmth" or "pale" for Imodna?

(P.S. I love your writing style!)

Thank you so, so much!!! And thank you for the prompt. Here’s a short thing for “pale.” 💜 Heads up for some angst.

As always, she hears Laudna before she sees her, her thoughts providing a harmony to the song she’s humming happily in the kitchen.

Where’s the sugar? Should set the table. I wonder if Imogen was able to find blueberries…

“I’m home!” She sits her haul from the market on the little wooden bench by the door and bends to unlace her boots. “And I brought blueberries!”

It’s been years at this point, but the delight in Laudna’s thoughts when she hears Imogen come home never fails to make her stomach drop pleasantly with love and, even now, a little bit of disbelief.

Oh, excellent. I’ve missed her. I’ve missed you.

“Welcome home, darling.” A long black and maroon skirt sweeps into her vision as she looks up from her boots, and she follows it up and up, over a flowing black top with sheer sleeves and a green striped dish towel that has been flung a little haphazardly over a delicate shoulder until she reaches her favorite perfectly crooked smile and wide black eyes. “I’ve missed you.”

She’s still got one boot on but she can’t wait, so she stands up and leans into a kiss that Laudna receives with a happy sigh. She’s a little off-balance, and it’s the wobble that breaks their kiss, Laudna laughing at her fondly as she helps her keep herself upright.

“Steady, love.” Imogen kisses her again, because she can’t help it, and Laudna pulls back with a teasing tsk. “Finish with your boots and I’ll have a treat waiting for you in the kitchen.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Laudna swats at her with the towel, too far away to actually catch her, and walks toward the doorway to their little kitchen, Imogen staring after her until she catches herself and sits down again, tugging impatiently at her laces until she’s free.

She hangs her cloak on the rack, the pegs of which are various intricately carved birds in flight. Imogen’s partial to the hawk, Laudna to the raven. It’s a C-POP Industries original that Chetney swore was too imperfect for the market but that Imogen was almost entirely sure was just a gift for Laudna, as it appeared on their doorstep less than a day after she’d exclaimed over it in his store.

She picks up the bag of groceries and makes her way to the kitchen, dropping them on the table before coming to stand behind Laudna at the stove, where she’s laid out a rack of cookies to cool. Wrapping her arms around Laudna and relaxing into the cool press of her body, she says, “Those look good.” She catches chocolate and something else, cinnamon maybe. “Smell good, too.”

Laudna’s hands come to rest on hers and she leans back, Imogen supporting her weight easily. “Mmm. A bit pale, I’m afraid. Should’ve left them a few minutes more but I burned them last time, you remember, and I didn’t want to do that again.”

Imogen blinks. Does she remember? Of course. Of course she does. “I remember them bein’ delicious,” she says. “Think I ate half a dozen before they were even all cool. I’m sure these’ll be just as good.”

“Mmm.” You don’t have the most…discerning palate, dear.

The thought comes with an affectionate squeeze to her forearms, and Imogen laughs. “Hey, now. My palate is plenty discernin’.”

The pat to the back of her hand is absolutely patronizing, and Laudna’s tone matches as she says, “Of course it is. I’m sorry.”

Imogen presses up to kiss her cheek and squeezes her hips before stepping back and around to grab at a cookie. It’s still warm, and the chocolate is almost liquid on her tongue, and it’s so good, darlin’. Honestly. She swallows and offers, before taking another bite and another cookie from the tray, “Even better than last time.”

Laudna’s looking at her fondly, and it’s then that Imogen notices something’s not quite right. There’s a flicker in the corner of the kitchen, a shadow over Laudna’s shoulder, and her hackles are raised, the cookie tossed carelessly back onto the tray, as she says, voice low, “Laud, come stand behind me.”

Laudna stays where she is, eyes crinkling at the edges and the corners of her lips tilting downwards, smile still fond but a little bit sad now, too. Imogen’s stomach clenches, and lightning flickers at her fingertips. Shadows begin to bleed from beneath their table, their chairs, the doorway.

“Laudna. C’mon, baby.” Her tone is anxious now, voice unsteady, and she tries to take a step forward but she can’t. She can’t, and suddenly her heart is thundering, her palms sweating where they’re now frozen before her, ready and entirely unable to cast. “Please. Please.”

There’s ichor dripping from her eyes, slow and steady, and her mouth pulls up at one corner as she says, affectionate but resigned, “You know I can’t, darling.”

“No.” The shadows have swallowed the entry to the living room, slither closer and faster. “No.” She’s crying now, can feel the tears making hot trails down her cheeks.

A voice from above, familiar and cold and terrifying. “Is she your favorite?”

“No. Please. Not again. Please. Please. I’ll do whatever you want. Please, just...”

“Close your eyes, Imogen.” Laudna’s voice is gentle, the same one she uses when Imogen wakes from a nightmare—soothing and soft and loving and Imogen doesn’t close her eyes, can’t close her eyes, can only scream as Laudna’s body is lifted into the air by an invisible force, her chest ripped open by a sword she can’t see but doesn’t need to. She hears Laudna’s cry, haunting, and then laughter, Otohan’s laughter, and all she sees is white.

When she wakes, her cheeks are wet, and her chest is heaving, and she’s cold, so cold. She keeps her eyes closed for as long as she can, unwilling to be back in the world where Laudna isn’t, but it can’t last. She turns and blinks into the dark of the room where she’s sleeping, sees Laudna’s profile, Pate tucked carefully into a nest made of Imogen’s bandana near her far shoulder.

Her fingers reach for the place where she knows the sword went through, hover and retreat, fist into the blanket instead.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” There’s no response. Of course there isn’t. There’s no one there to hear her. She doesn’t mean it any less.

“I’ll fix it, Laudna. I promise. I’ll fix it.” She forces herself to close her eyes again, and when she drifts back into fitful sleep, she swears she can still taste the chocolate.

#imodna #southerngothic #imodna fic #cr prompt fic

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thecampjuicebox · 7 months

Note

If I might make a request: Give us the Gale epilogue that we never got. Gale cooking dinner for Tav and Tara. Given the fact that Tara hisses at Tav on their first meeting, I feel like she'd really interrogate them, and Gale would be oblivious to the tension.

Oh my GODS I adore this idea. Okay okay. Here we go, I hope you enjoy!!

Third Degree

Pairing: Tav (f) x Gale (m) x Tara (f tressym)

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

POV: 2nd person (Reader is Tav)

Warnings: Tara being an overall nuisance, angst, FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, game spoilers

You clasp your hands for a moment, squeezing the trembling appendages together to attempt to soothe your anxiety. A bottle of perfectly aged wine nestled between your forearm and breasts. Questioning your sudden bout of anxiety, you shake your head. It was just Gale, after all. You've shared many a meal with the wizard, shoulders touching next to the camp fire. You've shared many a night with him as well. Tangled in the weave. Your mouth waters at the memory, a familiar tingling in your core. No, what worries you now is Tara. Gale's tressym and most trusted friend. Gale spoke about her regularly. You'd met her once in Baldur's Gate, the encounter going less than well. You still remember the way she hissed at you, fangs bared in a hostile fashion. Gale didn't even seem to notice, his excitement purely on seeing the tressym so far from Waterdeep. Shaking your head, you ascend the stairs to the front door of his tower. Waterdeep is comfortably warm this time of year, a gentle breeze sweeping the soft fabric of your skirts. You scoff at yourself, peering down at the outfit you spent entirely too long at Figaro's trying to pick out. You settled on a emerald green velvet dress, adorned with gold filigree that sparkles in even the faintest of candlelight. It hugs your supple curves in all of the right ways, accentuating the roundness of your hips. Figaro gushed about how it perfectly complimented your complexion, the rest of the shop's clientele dropping what they were doing to gawk at you like you were a fine piece of art in a grand foyer.

Your pale white hair is plaited neatly, 2 thick braids hanging over your tired shoulders, a few loose strands hanging about your flushed cheeks. Gale has always loved the white shade of your hair, often comparing it to starlight. He reveled at your ancient elven roots on a regular basis, often finding comfort and pure joy in listening to your story telling, bouncing tales back and forth with Halsin at camp. You miss the comradery that traveling had to offer. Always someone to talk to. To confide in. Now, you spend your days simply reminiscing on what once was. Baldur's Gate, while bustling with life now after the city has begun to rebuild, still feels so.. desolate. Lonely. You're startled by the sudden swinging open of the front door, the brown haired Wizard leaning against the door frame, blue robes covered by a some-what messy apron. He grins in your direction, eyes scanning your frame before settling on the bottle of wine. You notice his stare, eyes narrowing and you grasp the bottle by the neck to hand it over to his eager hands.

"An Athkatlan Clarry? Impressive. Come come come, dinner is almost ready. And my gods, you look stunning."

You blush and nod once, lifting the end of your dress to move onto the final step, crossing the threshold. Taking a moment to gather your bearings, you scan the room. Books and scrolls are scattered on every open table top, not messily, but definitely in no form of organization. A few pillar candles are lit to create ambiance, the scent of whatever Gale was cooking filling the room with a delicious cloud and you tilt your head up to better inhale. You mumble a soft "mmm.." to yourself. A gentle hand rests against the small of your back and Gale gazes down at you, thumb rubbing back and forth against the velvet of your dress. You sink into his frame and drink in his familiar warmth. Gods, you've missed him. His scent. His strong chest and toned arms. His embrace. He sets the bottle of wine down on the nearest table and wraps both arms around your short body, snaking underneath your arms so you're forced to place them on his shoulders. He places the softest kiss between your eyes, making your lashes flutter at the sudden skin to skin contact, earning a comfortable sigh from you.

"I've missed you, my little piece of starlight."

You giggle quietly, tilting your head up slightly to bump your nose against his. He wiggles his nose back against yours, head turning side to side to make the tips brush ever so slightly past each other.

"Ahem."

Gale's head turns quickly towards the sound and his eyes meet with Tara's, her small wings fluttering in annoyance. He smiles up at her as she descends the spiral staircase, whiskers twitching at the new smells. You take a step away from Gale. He looks at you with confusion before Tara stops in front of you, small pink nose wiggling from side to side, assessing you. Her green eyes pierce a whole right into your skull, seemingly picking your entire being apart with a single stare. You smile nervously, raising a hand to gesture a simple wave at her. Her eyes flick to Gale and she turns around, tail swishing behind her as she walks towards the doorway of the kitchen, looking back over her shoulder to assure that Gale is going to follow her. He does. The wizard intertwines his fingers with yours and gently pulls you along with him, scooping the bottle of wine from the table he originally sat it down on.

The kitchen is swirling with the most delectable scents you've ever experienced, a mixture of herbs you can't quite pinpoint. Your palette was so used to the random assortment of foods you could find while traveling, so this was truly gourmet in your eyes. Hells, a simple lamb shank would sent your salivary glands into overdrive, had you the opportunity to obtain one. Gale saunters over to a grand brick fireplace, carefully lifting the lid of the cauldron hanging above the crackling fire and giving its contents a look. He wafts the smell up into his nose, steam swirling in translucent white tendrils into the air, his eyes nearly rolling all the way back into his skull. He places the lid back on the cauldron and mumbles an incantation, extinguishing the once roaring fire beneath the cast iron. Tara rests comfortably on a stool at the large oak table on the far side of the room, her eyes fixed on you. You tuck a piece of hair behind your pointed ear and make your way to Gale, who is now fetching plates and cutlery from the cupboard, hands carefully gripping the silver as to not smudge its shiny surface.

"Need some help, my sweet?"

Your voice trickles out like honey, making the wizard's hairs stand on end and he smiles at you, eyes twinkling.

"Gods, no. Make yourself comfortable in any seat you'd prefer. I'm sure Tara would love to get to know you better. She does love stories."

He nods his head to the side, pointing in Tara's direction and you huff quietly. With calculated steps, you find a stool across the table from Tara, eyes watching her just as she watches you. Gale turns his back to the two of you and continues on his mission to fetch the nicest dishes he can find, pulling a silver chalice from the top shelf of the cupboard and giving it a gentle shine with the corner of his apron. He hums quietly to himself. Your hands fall to your lap and you lower your gaze, picking at your fingernails.

"So.."

"Hm. So?"

Tara's tone of voice is stern, but also hushed as to not alert Gale of her intentions to absolutely interrogate you. You're not stranger to interrogations, having persuaded your way in and out of some of the most dangerous situations. This, however. This felt more difficult than any of that. Tara raises a paw to her lips, her eyes still not leaving you and she licks long, gentle strokes along the back of her paw, claws extended slightly as a warning. You clear your throat and rub your fingers over your knuckles, fidgeting with the thin gold ring Gale had given to you after the fight with the Nether Brain. You smile down at the piece of jewelry, eyes flicking to the side to watch gale from your peripherals. He continues his preparations, now filling the plates with the food he's perfected, steam clouding his little area of the kitchen now. Carefully, Gale walks to the table, setting a plate filled with assorted vegetables and a large piece of what looks to be goose down in front of you. Your nostrils perk up at the smell, saliva pooling in the back of your throat. You swallow harshly and smile up at him, ready to absolutely tear into the food, and potentially Gale for dessert. You giggle at the thought, covering your mouth with the back of your index finger to stifle the noise.

"Thank you, my love. It looks delicious."

Gale beams at your compliment. You love the way his eyes light up when anyone compliments him, for literally anything. Back at camp, you relished telling him how nice his hair looked, or how neatly he had trimmed his beard, or how his ideas were good ones, even then they absolutely weren't. You'd do just about anything to see that man smile. Tara tuts and waits patiently for her plate to be set down in front of her, sparing the niceties before leaning down to take a bite of the perfectly crispy goose flesh. She purrs happily. Gale leaves the table momentarily and you sit, hands in your lap, waiting for him to return before even considering taking a bite of your food. It was a habit your mother instilled in you at a very young age. Returning with a chalice full of the wine you brought, he gently presses a kiss atop your head, making your cheeks flush at the simple gesture of love. He sits on the stool beside you and claps his hands once in excitement, rubbing them together quickly before lifting his fork and digging in. You do the same, lifting the silver utensil carefully, stabbing the prongs of the fork into the impossibly tender piece of goose breast. You earn a small piece and quickly lift it to your mouth, the flavor setting your taste buds ablaze. You close your eyes and chew slowly, a quiet "mm.." rumbling in your chest and you swallow.

"Gale this is.. incredible. Truly."

His cheeks flush and he nods, working through chewing the too-large bite of potato he shoved into his mouth. Tara silently laps at the remnants of goose on her plate, already finished since she didn't have the decency to wait for Gale to join the table. Gale points his fork in Tara's direction, mouth still full of food and he speaks in jumbled words.

"So, I assume the two of you have gotten acquainted, yes?"

Tara and you exchange glances, you breaking eye contact first to set your fork down beside your plate, lifting the chalice to quickly take a nervous swig of whine, the alcohol deliciously burning the back of your throat once you swallow.

"Hm, I suppose so, yes. Tav seems.. Lovely."

Her last word stings a bit and you know full well she doesn't mean it. Gale nods happily, shoving a baby carrot into his cheek. You set your chalice down and reach a hand under the table, placing it on Gale's happily bouncing thigh. The bouncing stops abruptly, his facial expression not changing, but he's painfully aware of your hand, leaning in to your touch. You rub soothing circles over top of his trousers, humming quietly to yourself.

"So, hm, Tav. Gale has gone on and on and on about the two of you being engaged. You must be so excited. Will you be staying in Baldur's Gate after the wedding, since out tower is just.. Oh so cramped already. I'm sure you plan to spend so much gold on this wedding, hm? Gale is nothing short of extravagant. You should hold the ceremony in Mystra's temple."

Gale shoots Tara a perplexed look, chuckling to himself after he swallows his thoroughly chewed bite of food. Tara blinks innocently, flashing a single fang at you and she places a paw on the table, claws extended. You grit your teeth at the mention of Mystra, blinking down at your lap.

"Tara, my dear. Tav will be living with us. She will be my wife, after all. There's plenty of room in my bed, just for her. And we will speak about wedding plans when Tav is ready. Lots of preparations are to be made."

He reaches down to the hand resting on his thigh, giving it a loving squeeze. You grin and tilt your head sideways, resting it against his bicep for a moment before pulling your hand away to resume eating. You take small bites of food, chewing each one with ease before swallowing, little happy groans following at the taste. You chase the final bite of food with more wine. Tara straightens up, wings fluttering against her back at the new position and her tail swishes a few times before settling beside her on the stool.

"And.. Children? I assume you'll be having children? How many, do you think? It's obvious you can't keep your hands off of each other anyways, it's only a matter of time. Gods, I do wonder what they'll be like. Hopefully they all look like Gale, him having the superior genes and all."

You cough, covering your mouth carefully with your hand. Gale's eyes widen and he raises his hands quickly.

"Now now, let's not be hasty. Children will come in due time, yes. Much.. Much further down the road. Entirely too much to do and experience now."

Tara smirks at you, clearly sensing how uncomfortable you are. You squirm in your seat and reach for the chalice to finish off your wine, a warm buzz traveling up your spine and into the back of your neck, your chest turning a light crimson. The tressym hops down from her stool, a small yawn followed by a "mew" leaving her mouth. She rubs her side against your leg, covering you in her scent and some of her fur. She takes a seat on the floor beside Gale and purrs quietly, waiting for him to reach down and pet her head. He obliges, scratching behind her small ears. With a flick of her tail, Tara turns and leaves the room. You sigh in relief, placing your elbows on the table and your face in your hands. Gale lifts his chalice and takes a sip, savoring the sweet taste of the wine before smiling at you, absolutely clueless of what just unfolding directly in front of him at dinner.

"She seems to be really fond of you!"

#gale dekarios #gale fluff #gale fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #tara the tressym

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jerzwriter · 4 months

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It always starts somewhere...

This is my entry for Day one of @choicesjanuary2024 January Challenge. I hope you enjoy it!

Book: Crimes of Passion (post book 2) Pairing: Trystan Thorne x Carolina Rose Category: Fluff with a dash of angst Rating: Teen Words: 1,200 Summary: It's a tradition. A day Carolina always looks forward to, even if it's filled with bittersweet memories. But tonight, the tradition starts anew, with Trystan by her side.

Darkness had already enveloped the city as Carolina drew the curtains. Her face bright with anticipation, she gazed out her bedroom window onto the street below. There was only one thing on her mind as she mindlessly twirled the crystal flute of Chardonnay in her hand, nearly forgetting it was there. But the moment she remembered, she eagerly brought the glass to her lips, savoring the rich, oaky flavor as it swirled over her tongue, warming her more than the roaring fire ever could.

Despite the dipping temperature, she slipped off her cardigan and tossed it on a nearby chair. Eyes still focused on the freezing pavement, and she couldn't help but smile. This wasn’t the first time she had practiced this ritual; it was practically as old as she was, even its practices had been amended over the years. The ceramic mug her father bought for her when they saw Annie was no longer in her hand. The delicious aroma of the hot cocoa that had filled it was also gone, just like her father, who once sat at her side.

The unwelcome visitor was drawing near. Sadness, reaching in and gripping her as it often did made her eyes flicker away, but she turned back with determination. No! Sadness and despair would not win today; not on a night as special as this. Her fingers traced the rim of the crystal chalice that her father had used years before. The only one she’d consider using today.

“Ves eso, Papi?” she whispered into the deafening silence. “Any moment now.”

He must have entered quietly, or perhaps she was too distracted to hear him because his breath was warm on her neck and his arms gently encircled her waist before she heard a sound. Then, she had to laugh. Was she even a detective after all?

“What will be any moment now?” Trystan whispered, brushing her hair to the side and placing gentle kisses on her freshly exposed skin. She leaned into him, a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding escaping her as she melted into his arms. Just like that, all was right with the world.

“Mi Vida,” she smiled. “This is a very important night.”

His eyes widened for a quick moment... concerned he had forgotten an important date. Then, his expression softened as he recalled the stormy forecast.

“That’s right,” he grinned. “The first snowfall of the year.”

“Mmm hmm,” she nodded. “More importantly, our first snowfall together.”

“I see you have your father’s wine glass,” he smiled. “And the curtains are drawn, so you have everything you need.”

She gently placed the glass on the table beside her and turned to face him; her eyes lingering on his moonlit features. “At least I do now." Her lips moved toward his, claiming them as her own in warm, comforting kiss.

“Mmm-mmmh,” he simpered before playfully pulling away. “Oh, no, Lina. No way. I’ve been waiting to participate in this ritual for some time, and I will not allow you seduce me away from it.”

She strolled toward the old mahogany sideboard with a chuckle. "Oh really," she said, pouring another glass for her love. A playful smirk tugged at her lips when she placed it in his hands. “Then you’ll need this... if you plan to do it right."

He nodded with approval upon taking a sip. “This is quite good; I suppose the seduction could wait.”

“How noble of you!” Carolina teased.

“But, of course! I am a prince, after all.”

Shaking her head with delight, she fell into his arms and and Trystan tried to determine if that sound of her laughter had become his favorite melody of all. It was undoubtedly in his top three, each spot now claimed solely by his Carolina. But his body tensed as he realized her laughter had turned to tears that dampened the crook of his neck. He clasped the sides of her face, worry weighing on his features.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered, gazing into her tear-filled eyes. “Are you all right? I thought this was a happy tradition?”

“It is,” she sniffled, wiping away her tears. “But it’s different now, and it’s my first time sharing it with you.”

“Is that OK?” he asked. “If you’d rather be alone...”

“No, no!” She grabbed his hand and held it against her heart. “I’ve done this alone for years now, ever since my father died. Honestly, I never thought I'd share this with anyone else again, but now... I can't wait to experience this with you by my side.”

He pulled a chair closer to the window so they could sit without missing a thing, then motioned for her to sit on his lap. “I’m glad to hear that,” he assured. “Because there is no place I’d rather be.”

“So, how does this work?” He asked, getting down to business. “Do we do anything special while we wait?”

“Nope, we just keep watch. Whoever spots the first snowflake has to yell, ‘Look, it’s a blizzard!’ and then we share a toast.”

“A blizzard?” Trystan chuckled. “Carolina, a flake of snow does not a blizzard make.”

“Of course not, but it is how each one begins. Everything has to start somewhere, and that’s what makes it so remarkable. We watch one single snowflake fall to the earth, so innocent, so insignificant on its own, but when we wake up tomorrow the city will be blanketed in snow, and you and I will know, that it all started with that one little flake we watched together.”

She could feel him swallow as he gently turning her chin his way. “Everything starts somewhere,” he whispered. “And we never know what beautiful places it might lead.”

The world fell into slow-motion as their lips came together. The familiar, sweet taste filling their sense as everything else fell into the shadows. He pulled her closer, as her fingers ran through his hair, and the rest of the world was lost. Neither knew how long they stayed like that, but they couldn't forget Trystan's childlike gasp when he briefly opened his eyes.

“Look," he pointed with exasperation. "It’s a blizzard!” A solitary silver flake glistened in the streetlights as it slowly twirled down to the street below. They jumped to their feet, foreheads pressed against the cold glass, unwilling to miss a moment as it descended to the earth.

“It is! It’s a blizzard!” Carolina squealed, grabbing their wine glasses to propose a toast. “It’s our first snowflake, Trystan! The first snowflake has fallen, and with it, a new chapter begins.”

“To new beginnings,” he smiled, reaching out to caress her cheek one more time before they emptied their glasses. Side by side, they watched as more flakes fell, one by one, until a whispy, barely there sheet coated the sidewalks.

“You see, it’s happening!”

“It is," he smiled. "I dare say that we will wake to that blanket of snow tomorrow."

“We will,” she beamed. "But until then, I was thinking I'd like to get under the blankets with you. Are you in?"

Trystan took Carolina in one arm, as the other hastily pulled the drapes closed, a devilish glint in his eyes.

"I am so in," he smiled. "Look at us, sharing new things every day."

"Yep," she agreed. "One day this will all be old hat... we'll be some old couple boring those around us with stories of all the blizzards we've watched begin together. Hopefully, you won't grow tired of it by then."

"Are you kidding? Each snowflake is different, no snowstorm the same... and every day is a new discovery because I fall in love with every little thing you do."

A/N: Incorporated all 3 parts of @choicesjanuary2024 Day 1, though, I cheated and didn't use the sentence as the first line! Also participating in @choicesflashfics, prompt "I fall in love with every little thing you do."

@choicesficwriterscreations Tagging others separately.

#choices fanfic #crimes of passion #trystan thorne #trystan thorne x mc #playchoices #playchoices fanfic #choices stories you play #january challenge #writing challenge #trystan x carolina

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your-world-with-nct · 9 months

Text

polaroid love | njm (1)

ONE — ooh, someone’s got a cruuush!

<- BACK | MENU | NEXT ->

PAIRING | na jaemin x female reader (ft. nct dream + enhypen 02z)

GENRE | fluff, angst, college au

WARNINGS | intended lowercase, cursing, mentions of sex, alcohol consumption, stem student slander

WORD COUNT | 2.5k

SUMMARY | inspired by enhypen’s ‘polaroid love’ — in his twenty-two years of living, na jaemin has never been in a proper relationship. after witnessing his best friends go through their fair share of complicated, devastating heartbreaks, jaemin decided he was better off investing his time and effort into his studies, rather than wasting his time falling in love. years of having fleeting crushes and being countlessly confessed to passed by and not a single person could tempt jaemin into the world of love. that is, until, he meets someone that he can’t get out of his head no matter how long he stares at his anatomy textbooks. someone that reminds him of the hopeless romantic he once was. someone that can show him that love doesn’t have to be so complicated to succeed.

A/N | i’ve been waiting for the day to put this out and here it is!! i hope you guys enjoy this first part and look forward to the rest of the series :) feedback is always appreciated and please reply to this post or send an ask to be added to the taglist <3

FIC PLAYLIST LINK | click here to enhance your reading experience!

HEADER KEY | • REC -> a character’s point of view | ■ GALLERY -> a flashback from that character’s point of view

JAEMIN CAM • REC

“jaem, food’s here, you can finish that later,” jaemin looked up from his computer after countless hours of meticulous editing to see jeno leaning against the doorframe, impatiently tapping his foot.

“mmm, yeah, be right there,” jaemin hummed, with absolutely no intention of getting up within the next few seconds.

jeno rolled his eyes at his housemate. he knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t be moving from his desk any time soon, “hmph, okay, but hurry up or renjun and haechan’ll beat you to the couch and you know you get all huffy when you have to sit on the floor.”

“i don’t get huffy,” jaemin scoffed, shutting off his computer and getting up from his chair, momentarily holding onto it for balance as he’d underestimated just how long he’d been glued to it, “i’m not getting up because you said that, i’m getting up because i don’t want the terrible two to take my favourite soju flavours before i get there and leave me the strawberry one.”

jeno chuckled as he signalled for jaemin to snag their spots on the living room sofa whilst their other housemates finished laying out the pizza and chicken they’d ordered.

once haechan had stopped complaining about how he deserved the best spot since he paid for the food, the four friends sat down and enjoyed their delicious meal accompanied by whatever show jeno had come across whilst flipping through channels. four full stomachs and five empty soju bottles later, the boys piled together messily on the couch, their drunk conversations drowning out the sound of the show playing and reducing it to background noise.

“soooo, lee jeno, are we not gonna talk about the guest you brought home last night?” renjun teased, rubbing his flushed cheeks against his best friend’s side.

“ahh, well, what was her name again–”

“you forgot her name?” an equally red jaemin sat up from haechan’s lap, his droopy eyes now wide open, “you brought her home and you don’t know her name?”

jeno slowly shook his head, lightly hitting jaemin’s chest, “calm down, she’s an international student and she has an english name so it was harder to remember… ah! it was lila, she was at the bar last night when the basketball game was on, and she seemed kinda bummed when the team she supported lost so–”

“you made her feel better about it by making her feel good blah blah blah, i don’t care about how you worked your charm, what i wanna know is why she practically ran out of here saying ‘i’m sorry’ over and over,” renjun said, earning himself a slap from jeno for both interrupting and exposing him.

“i was getting to that,” jeno huffed as he recalled this morning’s events, “well, uh, you see, when lila first came to korea she befriended… rina.”

“your ex rina?!” haechan’s high-pitched exclamation had the rest of the boys covering their ears with their hands.

“no, the waitress at the sushi restaurant rina,” jeno deadpanned, “of course, my ex rina! lila didn’t recognise me until this morning because, well, i-it was dark… and we, we weren’t exactly fully sober. but when she did, she pretty much left as soon as she could, saying that she felt awkward for getting with her closest friend’s ex and that she wasn’t gonna contact me again for the sake of their friendship.”

“damn.”

“that’s… unfortunate.”

“yikes.”

“i know,” jeno carelessly reached for another bottle of soju, taking a swig, “it’s rough.”

“you’re not the only one going through it,” renjun piped up, holding a shot glass in front of jeno’s bottle, gesturing to pour him some. after tipping the burning liquid down his throat, he sighed, “i stopped talking to chaeyeon, well, more like she stopped talking to me. she said she was never really that into me and that she just needed someone to entertain her for a bit so—”

snatching the bottle from jeno, renjun took another pitiful sip, the rest of the boys giving him sympathetic pats on the back or reassuring him that he’d find someone soon enough or maybe it was for the best.

“seems like none of us are having much luck with relationships lately,” haechan said, “i asked hyeyoon if she wanted to go on a third date any time soon and… she ghosted me.”

“oh dear,” jaemin winced, the second-hand embarrassment sending shivers down his spine. “renjun-ah, don’t hog that bottle, give hyuck some too,” he gripped the green bottle, lowering his voice, “come on, he needs this just as much as you do.”

he whined but gave in, handing the drink to his slightly more sober friend, “i assume you don’t have any news regarding your non-existent love life, jaem?”

“that’s meannnn, jun,” jeno lightly hit renjun again, this time for the snarky comment, “wait, jaem, what’s that face for? surely… no, it can’t be.”

the boy shrugged, the dreamy smile on his face completely unmoved. “well,” he paused to grab their attention, “there is this one girl…”

those words alone seemed to sober up jaemin’s best friends, as they all sat up, jaws agape and anticipating gazes on him. it was rare for jaemin to ever contribute to these conversations besides from providing emotional support or advice, so the mere mention of a girl on jaemin’s mind had piqued their interest. as he opened his mouth to continue, the boys simply hoped that it was going to be more than just another of his fleeting attractions.

JAEMIN CAM ■ GALLERY

“and remember, next week you’re gonna need a model for what we’re doing, so don’t forget to bring a friend along,” eunjin reminded the group before they all left, “ooh, and i’ll post a reminder on the club’s instagram story in case you’re super forgetful!”

jaemin whipped his phone out of his pocket, quickly typing the reminder ‘bring someone to photography club’ into his notes, already trying to figure out which of his friends would be the easiest to persuade to come along.

“ah, hyung, i’ll get going now, see you next thursday,” the enthusiastic second year engineering major jaemin had befriended waved goodbye to his senior, flashing a grin as he packed up his things and set off.

“see y– wait, jake! you almost left your camera bag,” jaemin called after him, handing him his belongings.“what’s got you in such a rush? you’d never leave your camera behind.”

the younger boy turned to retrieve his stuff, bowing to show his gratitude, “oh, thank you so much, hyung, i would’ve gone insane if i left this. my best friend’s waiting for me and she did not appreciate the extra time eunjin noona took at the end of the session–she’s impatient and hungry and it’s my turn to pay for dinner so if i don’t hurry up, i have to deal with a hangry y/n for longer than i’d like.”

“sim jaeyun! come on!” the voice of who jaemin assumed to be the ‘hangry y/n’ caught his attention, however, the annoying image he had envisioned in his head did not match up with the beauty he laid eyes on.

“calm down! i was just thanking jaemin hyung for giving me my camera back, which i wouldn’t have forgotten if you weren’t rushing me, geez,” jake rolled his eyes as he turned his back to you, mouthing a ‘see you’ to jaemin as he hurried to the door, “i’m coming, i’m coming!”

after packing away all of his equipment, jaemin set off on his way home, not forgetting to bow to eunjin on his way out.

“sorry, jakey, i just couldn’t wait,” he heard a much gentler version of the voice from before in front of him. looking up from his phone, jaemin recognised the two figures in front of him as the bickering best friends he’d encountered not even a few minutes ago.

“couldn’t wait to what? drain my bank account?” jake’s joking questions were met with complete silence, “oh, i see how it is!”

“kidding! i meant that i couldn’t wait to spend time with you now that you’re not busy with that big, mechanic… project, uh, thing. yes, i know what it’s called, i just don’t want to say all those long sciency words,” your whining brought a smile to jaemin’s face, having heard similar words from his own arts major friends.

his smile only grew as he crossed the road and saw you almost trip over the curb from laughing so hard at whatever jake had said next, too preoccupied by your joyous laughter and the way you beamed at your friend to have heard.

jaemin sighed as he looked on, wondering how fulfilling it would be to be the cause of that pretty smile or the reason behind your contagious giggles. or, to put it simply, he wondered how fulfilling it would be to loved.

JAEMIN CAM • REC

“na jaemin… are you joking,” haechan turned towards him, blinking slowly in disbelief at what he’d just heard, “another random crush that you saw for a few minutes and never again? we thought it was gonna be different this time, man.”

before jaemin could even defend himself, renjun seemed to have had some sort of epiphany, “woah, wait, slow your roll there, hyuck. i think our jaem might actually have a chance.”

“he does?”

“i do?” even jaemin was ready to admit that you were just another brief attraction, but hearing that he had even the slightest chance with you had his cheeks burning redder than ever, “c-could you elaborate?”

“i could… if you show us what this y/n looks like,” renjun cocked an eyebrow, holding his hand out to see if jaemin would accept his offer.

“wh-why would you wanna do that?” jaemin didn’t know if it was the drinks or the idea of his best friends potentially showing interest in you that had him fumbling over his words.

“calm down, we’re not gonna steal her from you,” jeno wrapped his arm around his shoulder, nuzzling into his side, “we wouldn’t do that to you, man, we’re just curious, that’s all.”

“mhm!” haechan chimed in, “we just wanna give her the best friend stamp of approval before we proceed.”

jaemin took a moment to consider his friends’ words, before retrieving his phone from the disgustingly messy table, “fine! but if any of you accidentally like any of her photos i swear i’m gonna… i’ll— i won’t be happy!”

the boys chuckled at their roommate’s sheer inability to get angry at them; his tolerance and kindness were just some of the things they loved about him, qualities they knew his future girlfriend would appreciate. they waited as jaemin opened instagram to find your page, haechan advising him to go through jake’s following to make it easier.

“what? like none of you have ever tried to stalk someone’s profile before,” haechan scoffed, leaning closer to the screen, “oh! right there, she’s tagged in his most recent post.”

clicking on the small square, a smile unknowingly crept onto jaemin’s face as he stared at the candid photo of you laughing with jake and another friend he was sure he’d seen before on his account. although the gentle hues of the sunset made for a picturesque background, he couldn’t help but think that you and your beaming smile were the most beautiful view of all.

“ahem… earth to jaemin?” renjun frantically waved his hand in front of the dazed boy’s face, “if you wanna gawk at her pics so badly, i would recommend checking out her account.”

the sarcasm dripping in his words would’ve normally had jaemin rolling his eyes, but he was too focused scrutinising every little detail of your profile. the aesthetically pleasing highlight covers were almost as eye-catching as the selfie you’d set as your profile picture, and the large array of posts featuring cute outfits, your friends, pretty views, and more selfies had jaemin curious to see more.

“ooh, ‘hyu second year philosophy student,’ a second year, ah, mark hyung does philosophy too,” jeno commented as he looked over your bio, “i don’t see anyone tagged in her bio, and there’s no dedicated highlight to a boyfriend or anything, so looks like she’s single!”

“not everyone documents their relationship on social media, that doesn’t automatically mean she’s single” renjun pointed out the obvious, smacking the back of jeno’s head. “but, we can figure that out later. so now that y/n’s got our stamp of approval, do you wanna know the plan or not, jaem?”

“wait, wait, we’re still looking!” haechan continued to tap on jaemin’s phone and scroll through your pictures, “she’s cuuute, pretty feed too.”

“i know, right?” jaemin sighed dreamily, earning a disgusted look from jeno, “sorry, sorry, go on, jun, what’s the plan?”

“you need to bring a model to photography club this week, don’t you?” renjun paused for jaemin to nod.

“based on what you’ve told us, jake and y/n seem very close, close enough that he’ll most likely bring her along as his model. if, and when, he brings her, you can actually go and talk to her, maybe get her number or something. as for making sure she’s single, whichever one of us you bring along can just discreetly ask your friend jake if y/n’s taken, and drop the hint that you’re interested—you could get him to help you out with her.”

a few moments of silence passed before jaemin launched himself onto renjun, engulfing him in a tight hug, “thank you, thank you, thank you! wow, i never would’ve thought that i’d actually have a chance with her but thanks to you and your genius mind, now i might. will you come with me on thursday, jun, please?”

“ah, you’re welcome, but y-you’re squeezing me, you’re almost as bad as jeno,” renjun pleaded, dramatically placing a hand on his chest when jaemin loosened his grip.

“i would love to, but thursday? i’m working on a ‘global sculpture through the ages’ exhibition that afternoon. i’m sorry, jaem, but i’m sure these two’ll be happy to help!”

“ooh, ooh, i am! i’m free then, and i’m happy to be your gorgeous model and your wingman all at once,” haechan mimed a hair flip, batting his lashes and grinning at jaemin.

jaemin knew he couldn’t stand the exaggerated facial expressions any longer and answered him, “okay, fine, hyuck! just— i know you can get very friendly, very quickly, so don’t drift off-topic and just stick to the plan, please, for me. if you succeed, i’ll buy you food after as a thank you.”

“woah, thanks, nana!” haechan snuggled into said boy’s side, showing his gratitude by acting annoyingly adorable, “i guess this means that operation ‘get jaemin a girlfriend’ is a go!”

his declaration was met with whoops and cheers, with jeno pouring everyone another round of shots to celebrate their roommate’s potential romance. as they raised their glasses and downed their drinks, jaemin squeezed his eyes shut and hoped, with all his heart, that their operation would be a success.

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