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dilf-docs · 2 months ago

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It Always Leads To You

joel miller x younger fem!reader

summary: it's been a year; now you're back. how can joel be so sure of those old summer feelings in your eyes when there's a new hand holding yours?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, toxic relationship, cheating and infidelity themes, mutual pinning, kinda dark!joel, smut, p. in v., pussy pronouns, oral (f. receiving), fingering, manhandling, lowkey forced creampie, ANGST, the taylor swift evermore (2020) references go wild, happy ending cause y'all weak asses voted for it and i love to keep my citizens happy!

word count: 5,199 words

side note: my joel miller era is alive and breathing after this tlou re-watch i'm doing my brother swears it's for him but it's mostly me and my fic/womanly reasons, yes we love gaslight girlkeep girlbossing in here gotta say, finding inspiration for this amidst my wattpad duties and christmas movie marathon was harder than i thought lol. was it worth the wait? please like, comment and reblog to let me know! it's based on this request (they're still open btw!)

part: I / II

Holidays linger like bad perfume.

Your eyes wander through the streets: the roads you've got to call home, the ones where you grew up. They're familiar, but so foreign, it's hard to believe they're the same ones where you scrapped your knees at ten and kissed Joel just last winter. It's as if both timelines, your life, feels more like two separate lives, miles apart.

"Hey, you okay?" tender, from the driver's seat; you're still getting used to the soft.

There's a reassuring smile your way, his hand finding yours to give it a squeeze. You notice his palm is the same size as yours. It fits perfectly, but there's a ghost of what it feels like to have it all wrapped up, looming over your itchy palm like all the yearning's a joke.

You nod. "Just tired. That's all"

He sighs. "If I wanted you to lie to me, I would've just asked"

"I'm not lying" you defend yourself as his pickup truck parks on the sidewalk.

He makes a funny face, and you laugh.

"I'm serious, Nick" your lips purse, a thing you do when you lie, yet he still hadn't noticed, like Joel. "Don't worry"

He doesn't look that convinced, so you take off your seat belt and grab his hand.

"C'mon. Mom and dad must be waiting for us"

"Hey" Nick calls you out.

"Yeah?"

"Who lives there?" and he's pointing behind you.

It's his. Joel's house.

"A friend of my dad's" you answer, dryly.

It was last december when you stood there in his porch, begging. It feels like time has stopped ever since, and you're still right where he left you.

"So will he be here?" Nick asks. "You know, since he knows your dad"

"Don't think so" you shrug, "he's got better things to do anyway. Bitter old man" comes out, with more venom than intended.

"Oh! Alright, sorry for asking"

You come back to your senses, realizing you've shared more than you should.

"No, I'm sorry. It's not that important; let's just go inside"

Your mom and dad greet you as soon as you cross the door. Last year, you'd basically fled away before New Year's, with a poor excuse and a broken heart. They both greet you as if nothing happened, although you're sure they remember your tear streamed face coming back from Joel's house, where it all ended.

As your mom corners Nick with kisses and embarrassing questions, your dad whispers to you:

"Joel asked what happened" you quirk and eyebrow, "wanted to know why you left"

"Eh, it's not important" you try to dismiss. "Definitely not as important for a guy like Joel to know"

"What is that supposed to mean?" your dad inquires. You often wonder if they knew.

"Nothing" you laugh nervously. "Listen, why don't you go and meet Nick, yeah? Did you know he likes fishing too?"

The distraction works with your dad; the same can't be said about you.

There's conversation flowing, but through the snow covered window, your eyes keep glancing back to his own. The view is dark, and you ponder if he's fled as well, the town plagued with memories too painful to reminisce.

You can still feel his hands roaming your body, the lust filled gaze that hid warmth. Every time he touches you, you have to remind you he isn't there: that the lips that kiss you, don't taste like his, that the hands that hold you, aren't big as his, and that the face that looks at you like they'll never choose another, is one you haven't learned to love yet.

Joel's memory cuts like thorns: they sink their teeth into your heart, that bleeds with that blood-colored sadness you're all too familiar with. He's poisoned you. But-- isn't it his love also the antidote for this disease he's gave you?

You abruptly stand up, plate half eaten.

"I-I need some air"

It's cold outside, but you don't care. All you want to do is sit on the porch, and drop some tears, something you can do inside too, but the fear of your muffled cries being able to be heard stops you.

You walk towards the stairs, to sit there like you do on summer days, yet there's now a difference: the snow. So you end up slipping, falling with your butt on the floor.

You yelp, embarrased although no one can see you.

"Need help?"

That you're wrong, apparently.

You don't even need to raise your view to know who that voice belongs to: you know it like a record, spinning in circles on your head.

He offers his strong hand your way, and although the cold wind hits your face, you're back to spring on the cabin: wet feet, bright sun and beating heart.

"I can get up myself" you reject his help, pushing the hand out. You keep avoiding his gaze, so you don't see how he's reacted, yet you hope he feels bad about it.

You walk up to the front door, and it takes you a while to realize he hasn't left yet. On top of that, it seems like he's following you. Just what you needed.

"What are you doing here?" you question, but your tone sounds like you're offended.

"Your folks invited me over" Joel answers, "Says they got a special guest"

"Yeah" this time, you do look back, finding him to be much closer than you thought he'd be. Yet you stand tall, defiant even. "It's my boyfriend"

You savour the way his expression falters, before the stoic façade takes over again.

"Boyfriend?" Joel scoffs, as if you just told the funniest joke ever.

"Is that supposed to be funny?" you bite back. "What? Think a pretty girl can't get a new man?"

"Never said I'd doubt'it" he clicks his tongue. "Y'a could get any man you'd want, sugar"

Ironically, the only man you want stands before you.

"Right" you chuckle dryly, "I think it's kind of funny of you to say that"

Joel's eyes bore into yours, a clash of emotions circling in his chocolate orbs.

"Y/n-"

"Don't" you stop him. Then sigh, defeated. "Let's just go inside"

As soon as you both arrive on the dinning room, your parents both greet Joel. Then, they introduce him to their guest, just as promised.

"Joel, this is Nick, y/n's boyfriend" your father speaks. "Nick, this is Joel, a dear old friend of mine"

Nick, as the gentleman he is, offers his hand. Joel accepts, but you can see the barely desguised displease behind his eyes.

"Wow, strong grip" Nick comments before joking, "you can let go now, I'm not going anywhere"

The hidden meaning of his words, whether intentional or not, hit Joel in the face. It's obvious by the way he backtracks, letting go of Nick's hand.

As you sit again, Nick leans to your side and whispers.

"Is this the guy who lives in the house across the street?" you nod. "Thought you'd said he had better plans. But, see? I told you: no plan's more important than coming to your house"

He's always making jokes, trying to make you smile, but it's done the opposite now. The food has gone cold long ago, yet you cut through the meat with a violence so palpable, even your mom tells you to slow down.

The nerve of Joel, showing up to your house like it's nothing, talking to you like he's unaware of his spell on you, acting like Nick is some sort of competition when he pulled out of the race himself a winter ago.

"So, Nick. How did you two meet?" your mom adresses him, eager to know details.

"It was at a party, actually, through mutual friends. Not a very spectacular story, that I know. What's funny is, she asked me what hour it was. And what did I say?"

"He didn't answer my question. Instead, he said: For you, I'm available any hour" you answer.

Your parents laugh, but Joel remains quiet. You wonder what he's thinking.

"You know" looking at Nick while cutting the steamed vegetables a little too agressive, "y/n actually hates parties"

"Joel" you warn through gritted teeth.

"Really? I didn't know that!" Nick seems so genuine, Joel can't help but hate him. He looks at you, concerned "You didn't tell me"

You can't believe he would rat you out like that. The appropiate word isn't hate, and you don't know how to describe it, but parties aren't really your environment; if you can, you'd choose to be anywhere else.

He'll pay for that.

"Joel" you seethe, an ugly smile painted in your features, "did you know Nick knows how to fish?"

It's a direct jab at him. He feels stupid for letting you get to him. The inferiority complex towards some random guy he just met, years younger, is actually laughable.

"I like-" Nick wants to add on that.

"Well" Joel interrupts, looking at you. "You never taught me like ya' were s'pposed to"

"You never cared to learn" you reply, acidic.

He sips his drink, trying to hide the smirk that's formed on his lips. You can't shut up, and he loves you've stayed the same.

"That means I've got some classes to take" Joel leans back on his chair, relaxed like he's won this round. "Just tell me when"

The tension cuts like the storm that's just formed outside.

"You should stay over, Joel" your dad offers when he takes a peak at the climate, "it's too dangerous outside"

Joel seems indestructible, like not even a snow blizzard could pierce through the rough old man. But he agrees, much to your dismay.

It's probably midnight already, and all you've done is toss around the bed. Nick peacefully snores next to you, and you envy how easily he falls asleep. You've always find it hard to sleep, the nighttime plagued with too many loud thoughts that fill the silence.

You get up carefully, heading downstairs for some water. You sip with tranquility when a noise jolts you from your sit.

The wooden floor creaks, making you aware you're not alone anymore.

"Can't sleep?"

You don't answer, seeing his sturdy figure emerge from the shadows until the dim moonlight shines over his aging features. Silence settles in. Outside, the wind howls, bumping against the windows with violence, like your heart does now against your chest.

"Not much of a talker, are you?"

"There's nothing to talk" cuts your response through the thick tension, the air suddenly suffocating.

You take another sip, but the tremble of your hand doesn't go unnoticed by Miller.

"Right" Joel sits next to you, on the kitchen island. "Won't even look at me, sugar? You've got eyes" his voice drops, "use 'em"

"What are you doing, Joel?" you ask looking at him, tears threatening to spill, making your bright eyes shimmer with pain.

He gets up abruptly, like he's woken up from a trance. He's seen his own pain on your eyes, and he hates it.

"Joel?" you ask again, demanding but softly.

He can't answer. Instead, he leaves.

"Goodnight, y/n" voice raw, many emotions boiling, hidden on the inside. It hurts.

If you hadn't changed, Joel too stayed the same.

A goddamn coward.

Two days have passed since, and now it's Christmas Eve.

You kneel, putting the presents under the tree. Normally, your parents would have much more people around for the holidays, but thanks to the storm, it's just them, Nick, Joel and you.

"I'm gonna miss Mrs. Stone's cookies" you pout, "I wish she could be here"

"It's a big loss for tonight" your dad sighs. "Next time, yeah? Christmas will come again faster than you think"

You nod, still absent as he walks away.

"Hey" Joel pops up behind, seemingly from nowhere.

"Hey" you reply, voice laced with tiredness just at the sight of him. How will you manage to survive until New Year's? You have no idea, the task harder if he's staying in the same house as you are.

"Put this in there, will ya'?"

He hands you a box, neatly wrapped up. What stands out the most is the silver bow on top. Your stomach drops: it's your favorite color.

"Y-yeah" you stammer. When the present falls in your hands, you notice it looks like Joel did it himself.

"Didn't know you were capable of nice things" you whisper. There's no anger in your voice, only loss.

"I'm trying" is what he says, before leaving you alone. Until then, you realize he had been touching you, the skin where his hand was on your shoulder burning.

Dinner goes by swiftly, conversation flowing easily courtesy of Nick and your father, who both have in common the love for talking. It may be your brain messing with you, but his eyes never leave you, fixated on your every move, savoring when your lips open and take a bite; when you lick them afterwards, salt in your mouth he'd love to take off in a movement of his tongue. The ghost of your lips haunts him, cruelly playing with his yearning now that he's got you across the table. It's a few centimeters, really, but it feels like you're miles away: and it's his fault. You're no longer his, and he's reminded of it every time your boyfriend kisses what he once had.

Now it's time to open the presents, and you excitedly raise your hand to go first.

"Alright, sweetheart. You know I can't deny you anything" your father beams, "go ahead. Choose any present you'd like to open first"

Joel's eyes are on you, and you know he's desperately waiting for you to open his first. Maybe partly in courage, maybe partly in fear, but you choose Nick's first: something safe to start with.

"That's mine!" he chirps, and Joel mockingly imitates his kid-like joy under his breath.

You unwrap the present, finding a small box inside.

"Please, don't be another box" you joke, and he laughs.

"You think that low of me? Please"

You keep unwrapping and find a bag. The bag has a small tag that reads: Gotcha.

"Nick! God, you're so corny" you tease as you open the bag. Inside, there's a velvet box, and by the looks of it, you can tell it's jewelry. You gasp, pulling out a silver charm tied to a silver thin chain: it's a marlin fish. "Nick..."

"I know. Marlin isn't your favorite fish, but that's all I could find" you get up, wrapping him on a tight hug. Aware you've got an audience, he leans and whispers "I knew fishing was special to you, because of your dad and childhood. Maybe now" he takes it from your hands, carefully putting it around your neck, "it can also be our special thing"

Joel sees the scene unfold in front of him, his grip tight on the cloth of his jeans until it's white. His jaw clenches at the affection display; all he sees is red.

"What about that one?" your mom points out Joel's present. A pit of nerves forms in your stomach. "I don't remember seeing it there"

Before you can grab it, your dad moves faster, examining the box on his hands.

"It's Joel's" he makes a pause, "for y/n"

You pretend to be shocked, and you can tell Nick tenses at your side.

"You didn't tell me you were close"

"Used to" you correct quickly, despite the knot on your throat. "Not anymore"

"He still got you a present, though"

You don't get to answer because your dad leaves the box on your lap.

"Open it" it's soft but feels threathing for some reason, "I'm curious"

Joel's resting hands tremble as much as yours while you open the present. You reveal the simple white box under the wrap, opening it up.

Your voice comes out shaky as you call his name. And he can see it: the muffled laughters on the shed, the warmth of the cabin's fire, the fogged up windows of his car, the bruises on your tits and that voice, so vulnerable, he can see you on his porch, saying those three words that terrified him so much, his solution was breaking your heart.

"What is it?" your dad asks.

"It's a scarf" the fabric tickles your fingers that wander through the loose strands.

You remember it all too well.

"Oh, it's vintage!" your mom comments when she sees the worn-out aspect.

But just as your affair with Joel, you keep the secret of it's real owner.

"It's perfect" you mutter, remembering better times: ones where he'd wrap the scarf colored as the leaves on the ground around your neck, covering bruises he'd just made while you joked you'd steal it, and Joel would say he'd just let you, that it looked better on you anyway.

You've forgotten the good, so used to thinking of Joel at your worst, like a punishment to endure and sink your shipwreck even deeper. You felt lost, replaying memories that seemed stuck on a loop. Since last december, all you've known is pain; creeping up through the cracks in your fleeting happiness, one you've tried to find to no avail. One day, past the curses and cries, maybe there'll be happiness. But as for now, that day seems terribly far.

As he sees your teary gaze, Joel often wonders were it went wrong. When did hurt was all you had for him in that gaze of yours he can't bare to look that long, not before he's reliving all those seasons by your side, replaying his footsteps on the snow, grass, water and fallen leaves, trying to find the one where it all went wrong. The torture he now wears like a second skin, his agony painted words addressed to the fire of a house that feels so empty and alone.

"We should continue" your dad speaks over the silence, "there are still many presents left"

The night moves slowly, and the scarf you've chosen to wear is now suffocating around your neck. But you can't take it off. This is the closest you've been to Joel on a year; it still smells like him. As the presents run out, you excuse yourself early to bed, only to wake up again in the middle of the night. You want to pee, so you exit your room and walk to the bathroom, your bare feet against the cold wood sending shivers down your spine that only seem to augment when you walk past his door, next to the bathroom. After being done, you splash some water on your face, as if that would make some sense get to you.

"What are you doing?" you ask yourself in the mirror. Your tired reflection stares back at you, in silence.

You open the door, ready to go back to bed when a hand covers your mouth and shoves you inside.

"Don't scream" your cries go muffled against his hand, the calloused digits pressing against your soft skin, "wanna wake 'em up?"

You shake your head, so he lets your mouth free.

"Joel" you call out, but he's facing the door, his back all you see. No sound can be heard, aside from his uneven breaths.

"I'm sorry" he says, and then you hear the small click of the door's lock.

"What the hell?"

This time, he faces you, but his movements are so quick you don't register his lips on yours until it's too late. He kisses you like a starved man who hasn't had a meal in years, eating you out while your body acts up on it's own, the urgency embarrasing even.

"No" you pull back. Your mind screams in guilt at how much you want this, and that's all you can hear aside from his ragged breaths.

"No?"

"It isn't fair"

"To lover boy out there?" he teases, "I know he ain't treating you right, or ya' wouldn't look me the way ya' do"

"Don't, Joel" your tone is icy, "Nick treats me better than you ever could"

He laughs, darkly. "You know I ain't meant that" he corners you against the sink, the material cold against your bare legs; you don't sleep with nothing but an oversized t-shirt, despite the weather.

"Riddle me this, sugar: if he treats you so well, why are you so fucking wet?"

Your heart beats so fast you fear you'll die. He gets closer, his hot breathe prickling against your ear.

"It takes a man to please a woman" he tucks a loose strand behind your ear, "and I ain't leaving my baby displeased"

His fingers pull down the panties until your clit is exposed.

"Look at 'er" he traces a teasing finger over the puffy skin, coated on your slick "missed me, didn't she? Gonna treat 'er so good, she won't ever feel lonely again"

He softly kisses your neck, the trepidation and regret tying your stomach in knots.

Joel teases your needy core with his finger.

"Tell you somethin', sugar" Joel finds it hard to hide his adoration, "I missed 'er too"

He stares into your eyes while pushing two rough fingers inside your cunt. You bite your lip, holding back your moans.

"Need summ help?" he kisses you roughly, smirking when he feels your shaky breath against his lips. He pushes them in and out faster, making your walls squeeze tightly around his fingers.

"Did he ever have you comin' this fast? I'ont think so" he whispers against your neck. You whisper his name through labored breaths, making a smug smile adorn his features. "Good girl"

He proceeds to kneel down, despite the creak of his bones. You see him leave a trail of kisses down your thighs, your legs opening wider in response. His tongue gives rapid flickers against your sensitive bud, aware of the lack of time. He slurps the pulsing cunt, his head moving back and forth while he sucks, coating his moustache on your juices. Joel goes back to the quick movements, tongue knowing your spots and twisting fingers as aid, causing your back to arch.

"Fuck" you curse as you come, gripping the sink a bit too tight.

Joel then pulls away and places his fingers coated in your arousal in his mouth and licks them. He sees the obscene display in the fogged mirror, satisfied.

"Goodnight, sugar" Joel bids goodbye like it's nothing, kissing your lips that taste like you. "Still as sweet as ever"

It's New Year's Eve.

"You're leaving?" you sound so sad, Joel can't help but scoff. In the end, he'd stayed long after the storm had passed, your father arguing holidays weren't meant to be spent alone. So he stayed.

And now, Nick is leaving.

"I'm sorry" he apologizes for the millionth time, "but granny is sick. I don't know if she'll make it another year, so say the doctors. I would love to stay, really, but I have to be with her"

You understand, having lost your grandad years ago. But that doesn't mean you're okay with it: Nick leaving means a clear path for Joel, who didn't stop with him sleeping next room, and certainly won't now, despite not having interacted with you since he ate you out on the bathroom.

He pulls you into a long hug and a kiss that doesn't feel the same anymore. "Will you be okay?"

"Yeah" you nod, "I'll miss you though"

"Well, I'll be all yours when you get back"

You smile but it doesn't reach your eyes.

"See you, y/n. I love you"

Your lips purse after you utter those three words back.

Later at night, the house is filled with guests. The lively environment is restored, and you feel less confined to Joel's claws, so many faces to speak and distract yourself with, compared to Christmas and the past couple of days. You clutch the marlin charm tightly, mind busy wandering to places it shouldn't. Joel stares at you from across the room, eyes trained on you as he sips his drink calmly, like he's won; you don't know why he's keeping score if he already knows it. You wander off to the kitchen, and Joel follows you.

"You have to stop" you speak as soon as he enters, aware he would follow you.

"I ain't do shit"

You turn around, facing him. "Bullshit, Joel"

"Tell me, what'd I do?" he comes closer, and despite your erratic heart and fear, you stay still; challenging.

"You did this, Joel" his expression falters for a second, the weight of last december's crimes dawning on him. "Don't try to make me feel guilty"

"I ain't. That wasn't your fault" he sighs, breath dragging long like a cigarrette. "But this" he motions with his hands the reduced distance, "this it is"

Your breath hitches.

"We can't keep doing this, Joel. Nick doesn't deserve it"

He pins you against the counter with force, gripping the skin of your wrists until you're sure you'll get a bruise. Joel's eyes darken at the thought of your frail and soft body under his rough figure and belly, his strength and your weakness making the job of putting you under his will, so much easier.

"Don't say his name" he whispers, his breath laced with alcohol, "he ain't here anymore. Ain't nothing to stop me now, right, sugar?" Joel purrs as he steps towards you, taking your face in his hands before starting a heated kiss, making you stumble.

This was so wrong, but it felt so right, the missing pieces falling like dominoes.

He was your pain divine: you needed his hurt to bleed and feel alive again. Maybe the red of the blood and the blue of your sadness could paint your darkest grey skies with a happiness you've craved since you lost him.

"Tell me to stop" Joel whispers, tempting like a devil as he kisses down your neck, littering it with hickeys.

"Don't"

Next thing you know, you're excusing yourself upstairs and then Joel goes missing too, both inside of your bedroom.

Your dress was the first thing to go.

"Wear it for me?" you're about to answer, lips pursing, but he cuts you off, "and don't lie, sugar. Don't get too used to the bad girl schtick"

"I only wore this dress so you could take it off"

He kisses you desperately, legs wrapped around his waist while he carries you to bed, and the memories of your first flood you as he drops you down to your back, watching the way you bounce. He has you just like he wanted: moaning his name while he leaves tender kisses on the soft bare flesh.

"Joel-" you gasp. Despite the chatter downstairs and music, you try to remain low as he wraps his lips around your nipples. He then moves to your breasts, covering them with his kisses and hickeys. He hadn't touched a woman ever since you left, the feeling of the rosy innocent skin on his rough teeth making him loose all common sense, the real thing even better than what he would try to conjure when he fucked himself in the bathroom at the memory of you.

He groans when he feels your hands roaming over his back, nails digging on the scarred skin.

"Someone's eager" he teases, seeing your damp underwear. "Is this 'cause of me?" you don't answer, too busy removing the cloth, only for his strong fingers to grab you and stop you. "Don't be shy, answer baby. We got a whole new year, yeah?"

"I need you Joel" you whine, not laughing at the joke "cut the crap"

He pushes you gently back down to the bed. "So needy sugar, want me to help ya'?"

You eagerly nod, making him laugh. But there's no mock, only love behind the sound.

"Will you let this old man take care of ya', pretty baby? Just use your words, and I'll be all y'rs"

"Do it, Joel. Just do it"

You gasp as your folds begin to be prodded open by the fat head of Joel's cock. You curse, feeling him push in just the tip, the sweet burn of your walls welcoming his size making you grab his arms that stand at the sides of your body, caging you in.

His tummy pushes against your stomach as he adjusts himself, his weight sinking your body on the creaking matress.

"'S just the tip, ready for the whole thing?"

You needed him, all of him.

"Yes, Joel. I want you" You say and he pushes in slowly, feeling his cock fill up every empty space that craved for him.

You squeeze your eyes shut as his hips roll back pulling out about halfway before rocking back in. His sloppy thrusts pick up a familiar pace that makes you moan and beg for more, head falling against the sheets as his pace speds up until he's fucking you senseless.

Joel's brain goes blank at the sight of you creaming on his dick and the obscene sounds leaving your pretty mouth. Did he really give this up? He'd definitely go back in time and slap the fuck out of his past self, because there is simply nothing better than having you under him, screaming his name like that's all you can ever say.

"Does he fuck you like this, huh?" Joel angles his hips, resuming his brutal pace. Your body jolts with each snap. "Is he enough for you?"

"Yes" his stomach drops, dark eyes now hesitant, "but he isn't you"

He pushes himself back in, your eyes fluttering shut almost immediately.

"Tell me you'll leave him, y/n. Look me in the eyes and tell me who ya' really belong to"

Your eyes snap open at the possesiveness clashed with jealousy that drips from his sweat-soaked lips.

The confession falls easily, as meant to be. "Yours, Joel. Always was and will be"

He could cum just at the sight of your loving doe eyes.

Downstairs, the countdown begins, but in your room, all you can hear are his soft groans and your pathetic whimpers, and if the people would stop shouting, you could probably hear the squelch of your dripping cunt sucking in his girth with each thrust.

After a few more erratic thrusts, you feel his warm cum fill you up. Joel was always obsessed with how his cum seeped out of you and around his cock. Without thinking, his rough fingers push deep in you, making you yelp as he makes sure he isn't wasting a drop behind.

The countdown ends, and fireworks erupt outside as your head rests on the crook of his sweat covered neck.

"I love ya', sugar" those words you thought you imagined that one time, now real, so goddamn real his voice quivers and eyes get tearful with grief, "'S okay if ya' don't say it. I just wanted you to hear 'em. 'M just tired of wastin' my time"

He wraps your lips with his with tenderness you had only dreamed of. There is still a lot to talk and heal, but this time, his arms hold you like a promise. And you let yourself believe it.

Y/n's New Years' purposes: 1. Break up with Nick 2. Try to explain this seasonal mess to mom and dad 3. At last, try to be happy

#dilfistwrites #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #tlou #tlou fanfiction

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helengie · 1 year ago

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(via "Santa Claus, Supplier Of The Year" Classic T-Shirt for Sale by HelenGie)

#findyourthing #redbubble #classic tshirt #supplier #supply clerk #supply chain #funny truck driver #funny truck #christmas #santa claus #santa #snowflake funny #snowflake #sunglasses #trucker quote #funny christmas #helengie

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witchywithwhiskey · 2 months ago

Text

first christmas with trucker ari levinson

pairing: dark trucker!ari levinson x female reader

summary: you ask ari if you can hang up some christmas decorations in his truck cab, and after his initial refusal, he starts to come around to the idea—and has some fun making you beg for it.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, slightly dry/painful sex, creampie, cock warming, bondage, choking, breathplay, dirty talk, degradation, some praise, daddy/dad kink, begging, pet names (sweetheart, baby, kiddo), some aftercare, a mean hot man

word count: 2.0k

a/n: based on this ask from @veltana: Are trucker Ari's and trucker Jake's readers gonna decorate the rigs for the holidays? since Ari's canonically jewish, i wanted to work that in while still showing what he's willing to do for his girl. (also apologies if there's any tense switching in this one, i'm not used to writing in present tense 😬)

trucker king masterlist & dirty filthy truckers universe masterlist

Trucker Ari Levinson isn’t the type of man to decorate for the holidays. By the time Thanksgiving rolls around, you’re well aware of this fact about your trucker, but you think it would be nice to put up some decorations in the rig, just to make it feel a little bit festive.

When you broach the subject, the two of you have just set off on a six-week stint of driving, which means you’ll be on the road through the new year. Already, the vast, snow-covered plains of the midwest have you feeling melancholy, so you’re really hoping Ari says yes to some Christmas cheer.

However, your trucker shuts you down with a curt, grunted, “I’m Jewish.”

You try not to show your disappointment, but you haven’t quite gotten used to the way you can never hide anything from your deceptively observant trucker. So while you think you do a good job of playing it off like you don’t care that Ari doesn’t seem willing to let you decorate, he knows he’s struck a chord—and it doesn’t sit well with him.

At the next rest stop, Ari’s grabbing snacks while you’re in the bathroom and he catches sight of a small display of Christmas decorations. They’re all cheap and plastic and poor quality, but before he can stop himself, he’s swiping one of the bright red Santa hats and adding it to his haul.

Ari shakes his head to himself, wondering what his mother would think of him if she could see him buying a Santa hat when he hasn’t worn a yarmulke or stepped foot in a synagogue in over a decade. But then he pushes the thoughts aside, reminding himself that his mother was gone, she’d left him, and she had no fucking right to judge what he was doing.

You’re settled in the rig by the time he gets back, an e-reader in your lap, and already engrossed in some smutty Christmas romance when Ari hauls himself into the driver’s seat. You don’t look up until a bag of Christmas candy lands in your lap, and you’re so taken aback, you glance at your trucker in surprise.

It’s then that you see the Santa hat pulled down over Ari’s slightly greasy brown hair. In his dirty red flannel, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Ari looked like the hottest, filthiest Santa you’ve ever seen, and your core quivers with eagerness as you suck in an excited breath.

Ari’s staring at your mouth, his eyes dipping lower to the way your tits are trembling as your breathing speeds up. You’re wearing nothing but one of his flannel shirts, the buttons undone an almost indecent amount, and nothing underneath. (You’d worn leggings into the rest stop bathroom, but taken them off as soon as you got back in the truck—Ari doesn’t like you wearing too many clothes and, truthfully, you don’t either.)

“Why don’t you come sit on Santa’s lap, kiddo,” Ari rumbles, his voice low and smooth—the charming tone of the man who’d coaxed you into his truck that first day. His hand pats his thigh enticingly as he spreads his legs, the fingers of his other hand deftly undoing the button and fly of his jeans. “Tell daddy what you want for Christmas this year.”

Your pussy is already wet with desire, so you toss your e-reader onto the bunk in the back and quickly navigate the space between your seats so you can throw a leg over Ari’s thighs and slide into his lap. Your ass lands on his legs, your pussy already slick enough that you whimper with the need to be filled.

“Beg for this cock, sweetheart,” Ari rumbles, stroking his thick length, his knuckles brushing against your damp slit and making your hips buck forward, seeking more friction. “Beg me to use your cunny like my own personal cock sleeve.”

“Please, use my pussy, daddy,” you beg breathlessly, fingers twining around the hair at the nape of Ari’s neck, careful not to knock the Santa hat off his head. “Use me to keep your cock warm, please—I want nothing more than to be your perfect little cock slave.”

“Good cock whore,” Ari purrs, one of his big hands grabbing your ass and urging you to lift up. Then he was notching the head of his dick at your tight little hole and helping you sink down on him.

A lewd moan slips from your lips as you take Ari’s cock. Your pussy isn’t quite wet enough to take his thick girth, but you don’t care. You’d take Ari dry if that’s what he wanted, and you both know it.

There’s a delicious sting as your pussy protests the thick intrusion but you push past it, forcing your hips down until your ass meets Ari’s strong thighs. You sigh with contentment, swaying a little in Ari’s lap, your eyes half-lidded as you stare into your trucker’s ungodly handsome face.

For some reason, the Santa hat is really doing it for you, making Ari even hotter than normal and you think, dazedly, you might have a Santa kink—so long as Santa is your dirty, filthy trucker.

“Feels s’good, daddy,” you slur, pleasure making your tongue feel thick and clumsy in your mouth.

Ari chuckles and gives your hip an affectionate pat before he removes his hands from your body and starts up the truck, the engine growling to life.

He’s pulled his rig back onto the snowy midwestern roads before he reminds you about why you’re on his lap in the first place.

“I wanna decorate the cab for Christmas,” you murmur, laying your head against Ari’s shoulder and enjoying the feeling of the truck rumbling beneath you, the warmth of the rig surrounding you.

Your eyes slide closed and you relax against Ari’s chest, letting the soothing vibrations and the perfect feeling of being filled by his cock lull you. Your whispered plea is spoken into the hollow of Ari’s throat, right above where the star of David he always wears is nestled beneath his t-shirt.

“Please, dad.”

You feel your trucker’s cock twitch inside you, and a second later he lets out a tortured groan. It joins the soft moan you bury in the shoulder of his flannel shirt, your hips rocking lazily on Ari’s lap. Your juices are soaking his cock already, dripping down to his balls, and his cock is throbbing inside you, both of you equally turned on by what you’d called him.

“Fine,” he grits out through clenched teeth, though you know he’s not angry, just trying to hold back from coming inside you so soon. He always reacts that way when you call him ‘dad’ instead of ‘daddy’. “You can have one string of lights, baby, but I’m going to test ‘em out before we hang ‘em up.”

Sucking in a sharp breath of surprise, you lean back and look up at Ari to make sure he’s serious. You find his jaw clenched tight and ticking, but when his eyes meet yours, there’s a sparkle of something like affection in them. Before you can be sure, though, he looks back to the dark road.

“Thank you, Ari, thank you,” you cry, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pressing kisses to his scruffy cheeks and burying your face in his thick beard to nuzzle his jaw. Happily, you lick and kiss down his neck, sucking on the spot at the base of his throat that makes his cock throb inside you.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome,” he grumbles, one of his hands falling to the small of your back and urging you to settle. “Now be a good cock whore and sit still while you keep me warm, we’ve got another couple hours of driving before you can properly thank me.”

“Yes, sir, daddy,” you purr sweetly in Ari’s ear as you settle down on his lap. You lay your head on his shoulder and press your mouth to his neck, licking and sucking on his skin idly while you do your best to stay still and let him drive in peace.

When Ari finally pulls off for the night, you’re practically vibrating with a need to show him how happy he’s made you and as soon as he puts the rig in park, you’re riding his cock hard and fast.

Your hands are planted on his bare chest—since you made him strip out of his flannel shirt and t-shirt—and you lift your ass up before slamming it down hard, the tip of his cock pushing against your cervix with every thrust and making your cunt squeeze the life from his hard length.

Once he’s let you take control for long enough, Ari’s hand wraps around the front of your throat and he pins you back against the steering wheel, not caring that the horn blares while he fucks up into you ruthlessly.

All you can do is watch your trucker king, wearing a cheap rest stop Santa hat, fuck the hell out of you while your tits bounce and your mouth falls open in a moan.

Ari comes with a rough shout, yanking you down hard on his cock and making you grind your pussy on him, rubbing your clit against the coarse hair at the base. His hand squeezes your throat, choking you just hard enough to make your pussy spasm, and then you’re coming too, your scream of pleasure stifled by his grip on your neck.

After, Ari helps you into the bunk and tucks you into his big body beneath the blanket. He falls asleep wearing that Santa hat and some boxer briefs, while you’re naked in his arms. With your back to his chest, you can’t see the faint smile that curves his mouth as he drifts off.

When Ari finally buys you that string of lights he promised, you learn that the ‘test’ he wanted to do before you strung them up was to tie you up in them. He winds the cord around your calves, then your thighs, binding your legs together before he plugs them in to make sure they’re all working.

Ari takes a long moment to look at you like that, naked on the bunk in the back of his rig, save for the thick socks keeping your feet toasty, and the warm, golden lights of the Christmas decoration he bought for you.

It makes him want to buy you more, to see how you’d look laid out beneath a fully decked out Christmas tree while he fucked your pussy, or how you’d feel curled up in a blanket covered in reindeer while he held you on his lap, his cock buried in your ass. He wants to see you wearing a Santa hat that matched his own, sucking his cock on Christmas morning while he made you coffee.

Ari reminds himself that the two of you are spending Christmas in his rig that year, driving around the country until well into January. But he saves those ideas for another time, tucking them into a box in a corner deep in his mind reserved for all the softer, more domestic plans he has for you—the ones you’ve started to inspire in him despite the fact that he’s never thought of himself as a man with soft or domestic side.

To distract himself, Ari digs out the Santa hat he bought at that rest stop and puts it on your head, pulling it down over your ears and giving you a satisfied little grin. Then he folds your body in half, pushing your bound legs up to your chest and off to the side so he can watch your face contort in pleasure while he sinks his cock into you.

The string of lights are digging into your skin a little painfully and you’re bent in an almost uncomfortable position, but you can’t help but enjoy it when Ari plunges into your cunt and sets a fast, merciless pace.

You’d never expected a conversation about Christmas decorations to end up with you tied up in a string of lights, but then, nothing about your trucker was ever what you expected—and that was part of why you loved him so much. You couldn’t wait to spend that Christmas and many more with your trucker king, Ari Levinson.

trucker king masterlist & dirty filthy truckers universe masterlist

#ari levinson #ari levinson smut #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #trucker ari levinson #ari levinson drabble #ari levinson fic #ari levinson fanfic #ari levinson au #ari levinson imagine #trucker au #dark ari levinson #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans characters #witchywithwhiskeywork #christmas fanfiction

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memorabxlia · 2 months ago

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All I Want for Christmas Is You ━ 홍중

genre: fluff (just a tad), smut summary: after getting stranded in your car during a winter storm with Hongjoong, you find other means to pass the time warnings: est relationship, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap up irl!), car sex (defintely forgot something) pairing: nonidol!hongjoong x fem!reader wc: 1.9k a/n: DAY 4!!! nets: @blossomnet @k-labels @k-films

The wind howled outside, slamming against the windows of your car like a wild animal trying to break in. Snowflakes swirled in chaotic spirals, obscuring the road ahead and coating everything in a thick blanket of white. You tugged your coat tighter around you, but it was no use—the cold had already seeped into your bones. The heater sputtered weakly, barely holding its own against the storm.

“Hongjoong,” you murmured, your teeth chattering as you glanced at him in the driver’s seat. His hands were still gripping the wheel, even though the car hadn’t moved in what felt like hours. “How long do you think we’re going to be stuck here?”

He exhaled sharply, his breath visible in the frigid air. “I don’t know. The tow truck said they’d come as soon as they could, but…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the windshield. “This isn’t exactly ideal weather for rescuing stranded idiots.”

You snorted despite yourself. “Speak for yourself. You’re the one who thought driving through this was a good idea.”

Hongjoong shot you a look, his dark brows knitting together in mock offense. “Oh, so now it’s my fault? Remind me again who begged to stop for ‘just one more coffee’ before we left?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the grin tugging at his lips stopped you. Even in the middle of a snowstorm, half-frozen and completely stranded, he had a way of making you forget everything else. Your fiancé’s sharp features were softened by the dim glow of the dashboard lights, his black hair tousled from running his fingers through it in frustration. His leather jacket clung to his shoulders, and you couldn’t help but notice how the faint sheen of sweat on his skin caught the light.

You bit your lip, suddenly feeling warmer than you had a moment ago. “Okay, fine. Maybe I’m partially to blame.”

“Partially?” Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, leaning closer. His voice dropped, low and teasing. “Try fully.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was racing now. The space between you seemed to shrink with every second, the tension thickening like the snow piling up outside. You reached out, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “You’re such a brat, you know that?”

His smirk widened, and before you could react, he caught your hand in his. His touch was warm, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “And yet, here you are. Stuck with me.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The world outside faded away, leaving only the sound of your breathing and the faint thrum of the engine. Hongjoong’s gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, and you felt a familiar heat stir deep within you. It wasn’t just the cold making you shiver anymore.

“You’re staring,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm.

“So are you,” he countered, his thumb tracing slow circles on your palm. His touch was maddening, deliberate and unhurried, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you. “What are you thinking about?”

You swallowed hard, your mind spinning. “That maybe… we should find a way to pass the time.”

“Oh?” His eyes darkened, and his grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly. “And what did you have in mind?”

You didn’t answer—not with words, anyway. Instead, you leaned in, closing the gap between you until your lips were just a breath apart. Hongjoong’s sharp intake of air was the only warning you got before he closed the distance, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss.

It was all fire and need, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that made your head spin. One of his hands slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the other found your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh through the fabric of your jeans. You gasped into his mouth, your hands flying to his chest to steady yourself, but that only seemed to spur him on. He broke the kiss just long enough to murmur, “Tell me what you want,” before reclaiming your lips with a fierceness that left you breathless.

Your mind raced, torn between the rational part of you that knew this was madness and the part that didn’t care. The storm raged on outside, but inside the car, the only thing that mattered was the way Hongjoong’s body pressed against yours, the way his touch set your skin ablaze.

“God, Hongjoong,” you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair. “I want—”

Before you could finish, he cut you off with another kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your toes curl. His hands moved lower, slipping under the hem of your sweater to explore the bare skin underneath. The contrast between his warm palms and the icy air sent a shiver down your spine, and you arched into his touch with a soft moan.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growled against your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, not when his lips were trailing kisses along your jaw, not when his hands were roaming your body with a possessiveness that made your knees weak. Instead, you let your actions speak for you, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt until your hands met the hard planes of his chest. His skin was hot beneath your fingertips, and you couldn’t resist leaning in to press a kiss to the hollow of his throat.

Hongjoong groaned, his hands tightening on your hips as he pulled you into his lap. The steering wheel dug into your back, but you barely noticed—not when his erection was pressing insistently against your thigh, not when his lips were skimming over the curve of your ear.

“You feel that?” he rasped, his voice rough with desire. “That’s all for you.”

You whimpered, grinding against him instinctively. The friction was delicious, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. “Joong—”

“Tell me,” he demanded, his fingers hooking under the waistband of your pants. “Tell me you want this.”

You nodded frantically, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pulled your jeans down just far enough to expose your wetness to the cold air. “Yes, yes, please—”

“Good girl,” he purred, his fingers slipping between your folds to tease you with maddening precision. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, as he added, “Now let me hear you.”

You arched into him, desperate for more friction, more heat, more of him. The car windows were fogged up from your ragged breaths, the world outside forgotten as the storm raged on. All that mattered was the way his fingers curled inside you, stroking just right to make your hips jerk uncontrollably.

“Joong—” you gasped, clutching at his arm. “I can’t—please—”

“Can’t what?” he taunted, his voice low and rough. He added a second finger, stretching you deliciously, and you moaned at the sensation. His free hand gripped your thigh, holding you open for him as he worked you relentlessly. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

You whined, your head falling back against the seat as pleasure coiled tight in your core. “I need you,” you begged, your voice trembling. “I need you inside me, Joong—please.”

Hongjoong’s eyes darkened, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, “Since you asked so nicely…” He withdrew his fingers, leaving you whimpering at the loss, and shifted in the cramped space of the car. His hands fumbled with his belt buckle, the sound of it unbuckling sending a jolt of anticipation through you.

When he finally pushed down his jeans, freeing his hard length, you couldn’t help but reach for him. Your fingers wrapped around him, stroking lightly, and he hissed through clenched teeth. “Fuck, you’re impatient,” he muttered, though the way his hips bucked into your touch betrayed his own desperation.

You smirked up at him, even as your pulse raced. “You like it.”

He growled, catching your wrist and pinning it above your head. “Careful,” he warned, his tone playful but edged with hunger. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but we’re not exactly spoiled for space here. Thought you might appreciate me taking my time.”

You bit your lip, squirming under his hold. “Take your time later,” you urged, dragging your free hand down his chest. “Right now, I just need you.”

Hongjoong groaned, releasing your wrist to brace himself against the car seat. He positioned himself between your legs, his tip brushing against your slick entrance, and you shivered at the contact. “You’re sure?” he asked, his voice softer now, laced with concern despite the tension thick in the air.

You nodded, lifting your hips to meet his. “Yes,” you breathed. “I’m sure.”

With a low growl, he sank into you in one slow, torturous thrust. The stretch was exquisite, filling you completely, and you gasped out his name as he stilled, giving you a moment to adjust. His forehead rested against yours, his breathing ragged as he fought to keep control.

“You feel so fucking good,” he rasped, his hands gripping your hips tightly. “Always so perfect for me.”

You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move. The pace was steady at first, each stroke deep and deliberate, but it didn’t take long for his restraint to fracture. His thrusts grew faster, harder, the sound of skin against skin mixing with the howling wind outside. The car rocked slightly with the force of them, but neither of you cared.

Every nerve in your body was alight, every touch, every kiss, every word from his lips driving you closer to the edge. His mouth found yours again, kissing you hungrily as he fucked you with relentless intensity. You could feel the coil inside you tightening, winding tighter and tighter until—

“Joong, I’m close,” you panted, breaking the kiss to bury your face in his shoulder. “Please—don’t stop—”

He chuckled darkly, slowing his pace just enough to drive you mad. “Beg for it,” he demanded, his voice rough with desire. “Tell me how much you want to come.”

You let out a frustrated whine, your hips jerking up to chase his. “Please, Joong, I need it—want to come for you—need you to make me—”

“Good girl,” he praised, his hand slipping between your bodies to circle your clit. His touch was electric, and combined with the way he filled you, it was too much. Pleasure crashed over you in waves, your body shaking as you cried out his name.

Hongjoong swore under his breath, his own release hitting him hard. He buried himself deep inside you, his movements growing erratic as he followed you over the edge. For a moment, everything was quiet except for the sound of your mingled breaths and the faint creak of the car settling.

He collapsed against you, his weight pressing you into the seat, but you didn’t mind. His lips brushed against your neck, trailing lazy kisses as he murmured, “Told you we’d find a way to pass the time.”

You laughed softly, running your fingers through his hair. “You were right,” you admitted, though your smile faded as you glanced out the fogged-up window. The storm showed no signs of letting up, and the thought of someone finding you both like this sent a rush of embarrassment through you. “What if—?”

“Don’t worry,” he interrupted, his tone reassuring. “We’ll hear them coming.” He kissed you again, slow and sweet, before adding with a mischievous grin, “Besides, I’m not done with you yet.”

Your breath caught at the promise in his words, and before you could respond, his hands were already moving again, exploring, teasing. “Joong—”

“Shh,” he whispered, his lips tracing the curve of your ear. “Let me take care of you.”

❥﹒ ateez taglist: @casemoa143 @minkilicious @lice @amarecerasus

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raileurta · 2 months ago

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Bumblebee is definitely the crazy cat equivalent of a Cybertronian when it comes to humans. He has had like six different humans already? So imagine them all existing at the same time.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Optimus: Bee don't do it.

Bumblebee slowly reaching for Raf: (⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠)

Optimus: Put him back you already have five humans already.

*Bumblebee grabs Raf and speeds off with him*

Optimus: Sigh.

Ratchet: We need to have an intervention that boy is addicted.

Optimus: No-

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

*Bumblebee cuddling with all his humans*

Prowl: Ugh.

Bumblebee: You wanna go bitch? I won't hesitate to blast your fragging face off.

Prowl: Primus calm down.

Bumblebee: That's what I thought. Jealous fragger....

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Optimus: Primus give me strength.

Arcree: What's he doing now?

Optimus: Apparently buying matching Christmas sweaters for him and his charges.

Arcree: The human holiday? Isn't that five cycles away?

Ratchet: That's what I said!

Ratchet: You know an intervention is still on the table.

Optimus I'm too tired for this bs: Stop.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

If you're wondering how everyone rides in bee: Charlie gets driver seat privileges, Raf has shock gun, Spike is in the truck, Russell is wedged between Alex and Sari in the back, with Sam on the roof.

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miabebe · 9 days ago

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My Girlfriend Faked Her Amnesia (Wen Junhui)

Reverse Trope Series Installment 4

It wasn’t always that life gave one the chance to hit reset, but now that Jun had gotten it, he didn’t have long before time ran out - 10 days to valentine's day which meant 10 chances to make his amnesiac girlfriend remember him again. But it wasn’t going to be a cakewalk - after all, how could one be reminded of the past if they were only pretending to forget?

Pairing - Wen Junhui x afab! Reader

Word Count- 29k

Genre - Heavy angst, romance, hurt comfort, mild humor and as usual, yes, smut - This piece is lowkey inspired by the Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind!

Warnings - Car accident, mentions of blood, memory loss, hospital setting

A/n - Hello my loves! This is my bit for the Lonely Hearts Cafe Collab hosted by the wonderful @camandemstudios, my first ever collab! Please do also check out the stories by all the other writers - everyone has been working super hard on this! I hope you enjoy this piece and leave your thoughtsss :) To be added to the reverse tropes taglist, please comment under this post :)

Smut warnings - This is only the first half (12k) of the story and there is no smut in it yet. Warnings will be added for the second half!

The End: 27th December 2024

"Careful!"

You quickly swerved to the side of the road, the car screeching to a stop as the honking truck zoomed past you.

Fuck. Gripping the steering wheel tight, you let out a sigh of relief, your wandering thoughts returning to the present. That was close.

The man beside you mumbled something under his breath as he unbuckled his seatbelt before alighting the car and opened your door, wordlessly asking you to get out.

You complied, allowing him to take over your role as the driver and quietly slid in the passenger seat.

Adjusting the mirror he glanced up and down the snow clad road before driving off into the darkness. Again, without saying a word.

That's how things had been between the two of you for a while now. Silent.

Some might say that after nearly 10 years of being together, the two of you didn't need words to communicate anymore, you just understood each other so well. But only you knew the reality - there was nothing left to say. Everything was at the edge of falling apart.

You glanced down at your hands, fingers fidgeting. Yes it was cold but it was the emptiness that bothered you.

Your boyfriend shot you a look before his hand hovered over the controls of the car.

"Are you feeling cold?"

See, he didn't understand. He never seemed to understand. And you were tired of explaining but a tiny voice in your head said to try just once more.

"My mum was asking why there's no ring yet?" Caressing the fingers of your left hand, you looked up, far off at the skies where the morning sun still hadn't made its way up.

“And what did you say?”

You turned to him, not hiding the incredulous expression donning your face, “What am I supposed to say Jun?” He looked straight ahead, eyes more focused on the road than required. “How does one answer a question like this?”

His Adam's apple bobbed with his gulp. “That....we’re not ready?”

“And looking at us, who will buy that?”

Jun kept quiet again, perhaps because he knew you were right.

The two of you had been together for the majority of your lives which meant your families, friends, colleagues all were a consistent witness of your relationship. Even over the last week, when you were spending Christmas with your family at the ski cabin, your sister wouldn’t stop talking about how you two were perfect for one another. She didn’t know that behind closed doors, in the privacy of your room, the two of you slept with your backs facing each other.

Jun sighed, noticing you were getting lost in your thoughts again. “Why do we have to justify ourselves to anyone anyways Y/n? This is our life-”

“You’re right, there’s no need to justify anything to anyone. But you can tell me why, right?” You half turned towards him, leaning against the car door. “You and I can talk about why we’re nearing our thirties and still haven’t made any decision about getting married?”

“Jesus, twenty five is not considered thirties Y/n." He rolled his eyes exasperated. "Besides, what does age have to do with marriage? Getting married should be something that we decide because we want to spend our lives with each other.”

You blinked at him. “Then do you not want to spend your life with-”

“I did not say that.” He glanced at you before quickly looking back at the road. “Of course, I do. Baby, you and I live together, we do everything together, we are as good as married-”

“So then a wedding would just be a formality right-”

“No, it would be a show!” You flinched a little as he raised his voice, annoyed. “It would be to show the world something, to prove to others that we are committed and will last through it all, as though signing a few documents is a guarantee of that.”

“Marriage isn’t just about that Jun. Do you have any idea how many things will become easier - buying a house, getting loans, so many logistics-”

He scoffed, shaking his head slowly. “That’s what marriage is to you? A practical, logical, legal binding?”

Biting your lower lip you let out a deep breath. “If you think it should mean much more or that it should be made purely on emotions then what’s stopping you? Or do you not love me anymore-”

“Why would you say that?” He groaned, like he was tired of this conversation. “I do love you, more than anything. Which is why I want you to be able to focus on yourself without taking the burden of a marriage. I want you to fulfill all the dreams you have for your career, for your professional growth-”

“Jun, I can do all of that while being married too-”

“Marriage changes people! It changes priorities, it changes expectations-”

“So that’s what you’re afraid of? Expectations? Because I expect you to be a bit more responsible? To get your act together-”

“It won’t stop at that will it?” He sighed. “This is all our life is going to be - First it’ll be about dividing household chores, who’ll do dishes, who’ll take out the trash. Next it’ll be about finding the perfect house and having children-”

“We’ve talked about this and you said you didn’t have a problem with having children Jun.” You snapped at him, triggered at his words. “I’m not getting any younger here-”

“And I’ve not grown up!” He slammed the wheel with his hand. “I do want to have kids someday but not now, not any time soon. I… I can barely look after myself, how am I going to look after a child? And if I’m incapable it will mean that you will have to carry the burden of it all - of raising the child, of me and of yourself and I don’t want that for you.”

You fell silent again, realising that the conversation was going just like it always did.

You would go on to insist that you were ready for whatever was to come and the time was right now, Jun would insist that he isn’t willing to let you take on so much and that marriage shouldn’t be about timing, it should be about wanting to be with each other. You would then claim he’s being too emotionally driven about this and he would claim that you were being too practical and the conversation would just be about the two of you justifying your point of views, reaching no conclusion.

This is what happened every single time. This was what was going to happen again now. And frankly, you were tired of it.

“When did we start wanting such different things?” You glanced at the road that disappeared into the darkness. The early morning light was not enough to illuminate the path ahead. “I thought…. we were perfect for each other, that we were meant to be. After nearly ten years, where did it all go wrong?”

You didn’t mean for it to sound hurtful, but Jun had always been the sensitive one.

“Just because we’re not in the same frame of mind right now, doesn’t mean all the years we shared mean nothing.”

“But what does it mean?” You smiled sadly. “We aren’t growing, we aren’t able to help each other grow, what was the point of it all? Ten years and…. we achieved nothing.”

It was like you were leaving arrow after arrow to pierce his heart - he knew you were the reasonable kind - always planning, always making lists, always marking milestones. Whatever you were saying now, had to be the result of a moment of frustration, not because you were questioning the love that you had for each other…. right?

You weren’t regretting this, were you?

He let out the breath he was holding. “Then maybe it would have been better if the last ten years didn’t happen at all.”

Please say I’m wrong Y/n. Please say prove me wrong, please say we’re worth it.

Although you were never really one to be driven by emotions, Jun always was. The one who never forgot anniversaries, the one who always tried to make every moment special, the one who always reminded you that you were not each other’s habits but each other’s love. Had things gone so far that the man who savoured every moment of being in love with you, thought it was better that you never met?

“Is that what you really think?” You whispered, ignoring the feeling of something pricking the back of your eyes.

Jun turned to you surprised. How could you even think that? Of course not-

“Careful!”

Headlights beamed from right across, but this time, Jun’s quick swerve was not enough.

As the car skidded wildly, with a sickening crunch it slammed into the side of the oncoming truck, the momentum sending it toppling over, rolling violently onto its roof with a screech of metal. As it came to a stop, the sun rose from above the clouds far away and steam rose from what was remaining of the crumpled vehicle. In the heavy stillness that followed, alongside the eerie whisper of the wind, streams of red mixed with the white of the snow.

Your boyfriend’s hand extending towards you was the last thing you saw before everything went black.

The Afterlife: 31st December 2024

Pain.

Unbearable pain.

That's what was searing through his body, over and over again. Everywhere, in every inch…. Just pain.

Perhaps because he hadn’t stopped running.

Jun had been running in the forest for what seemed like forever. Where to? He had no idea. Where from? He didn’t know that either.

All he knew was he was looking for something he had lost. Something clearly precious to him. Something he couldn’t live without.

Yet ignorantly, he kept running. Until....

Jun.

Your voice echoed around him like a soft whisper. Finally stopping by the lake, he looked around, frantically trying to find you.

It was then, across the frozen crystal clear waters he saw you - beautiful as ever, the only bright thing in the dark, daunting woods.

He wanted to go to you, he wanted to be with you but the slippery ice didn’t let him take a step forward.

Instead, you took a step back.

Then another one.

Then another.

Jun continued to call out your name, trying to stop you from receding into the shadows but in vain. Slowly you disappeared into the darkness, the black of the woods engulfing you as Jun fell to his knees, the ice cracking under him.

Shutting his eyes, he attempted to stop the pain but it only got worse. It was just pain, pain, pain.

When he opened them, white flickering lights were strangely swaying above him.

Blinking, Jun tried to see clearly but just then, the ice finally gave away, submerging him into the cold waters.

As the icy waters of the lake dragged him down, Jun felt his eyes slowly shut again and your name was the last thing he remembered.

The Awakening: 27th January 2025

The blur flickering light of the ceiling became clear as the rhythmic beeping of machines slowly pulled him from the depths of unconsciousness.

Head throbbing and body aching, an unsettling sense of disorientation washed over him, like he had been asleep for too long. Slowly raising himself on his elbows, Jun looked around, eyes finding the strange setting of a hospital room, the overwhelming smell of antiseptic finally hitting him.

Shutting his eyes again, he tried to recollect what happened, how he ended up here……

“Y/n…”

The argument.

The crash.

The sight of your eyes fluttering shut as blood trickled down your face.

“Fuck.” He mumbled, looking at all the tubes and wires attached to him, holding him back. Without an ounce of care, he tugged them off, triggering the loud alarms of the machines but before his feet even touched the cold tile of the floor, the doors flung open and a handful of people donning impeccably white coats spilled in, looking worried.

“Sir, please don’t-”

“Where’s Y/n?”

“You need to calm down, you’re not ok-”

He grabbed the collar of the man before him. “Don’t tell me to calm down. Where is Y/n?”

“We…” The doctor looked terrified. “Who is Y/n?”

Annoyed, Jun tugged on his shirt harder. “The car crash, there was a woman with me in the car, in the passenger seat, where is she?”

“What woman?” The man stuttered, looking at his team confused. “You were brought to our hospital alone.”

Shocked, Jun loosened his grip, allowing the doctor to quickly move back, putting himself at an arm’s distance.

Alone?

“That’s not possible….” He muttered. “She was with me, she should be here…”

“The accident happened in the countryside so you were taken to the nearest emergency care but your injuries were too severe so they shifted you here, to the city hospital.” The doctor looked at him slightly hesitating. “Maybe there was a woman with you, but she wasn’t brought here. Either her condition wasn’t serious enough or she didn’t….”

Eyes narrowing, Jun looked at the shivering man before him. “She didn’t, what?”

“S-she didn’t make it-”

“How dare you?” He spoke between gritted teeth, charging towards the doctor, only to be quickly held back by the nurses around him. “How dare you even suggest something like that-”

“Mr. Junhui, I was only stating the possibility-”

“What you’re saying is not possible-”

“Sir please, your heart rate is getting erratic-”

“I don’t care, I need to find her-”

“You can’t leave.”

“Stop me if you can.” Jun pulled himself free from the grip of those around him, leaving for the door, glaring at the crowd challengingly.

Only one of them dared to step forward - a woman, one not wearing a doctor’s coat, looking at him with sympathy rather than fear.

“Sir please….” She whispered softly, slowly approaching him, ignoring the worried looks of those around her. “I understand your worry and I’m so sorry for this but you need to calm down…. I have no other choice.”

Jun frowned as she neared, maintaining a strong, unavoidable eye contact, the contents of her hands completely missing his vision. Before he could understand what was happening, there was a prick in his arm, hands reaching out to him and the flickering light blurred again as his eyes shut.

28th January 2025

“Let me go.”

The events from about 24 hours ago had repeated again.

The fluttering lights, the machines, the wires, the tubes, the doctors - everything happened in the same sequence except there was one difference this time. When Jun tried to pull on the wires and swing his legs off the bed, he found all four of his limbs restrained.

“Please.” He whispered. “I need to find Y/n.”

“Sir, there really was no woman brought along with you.” The woman’s eyes reflected the same sympathy they had since the day he had been wheeled in. “We got your records from the emergency center you were taken to.”

Pulling out a bunch of papers from a file, she placed it on his lap. “There was a woman with you but she was discharged from there within a week.”

“A-a week?” Jun stuttered, looking around. “How long has it been since the accident?”

“Almost…” She looked at the papers thoughtfully. “Almost a month. You’ve been unconscious all this while, you sustained a traumatic injury to your-”

“What about Y/n?”

Stepping up and reading through the papers, the doctor from earlier spoke with his expertise. “She had a severe injury on her head too but she gained consciousness about a week after the accident and she…. just left.”

“Just left?” It felt as though something cold was just dumped on his head. “Just left me?”

“Mr. Jun, we’re not sure what exactly happened but….” The woman looked at him uncertainly. “The last few weeks that you were here, no woman has come to visit you. Y/n hasn’t been around.”

Jun let out a shaky breath, “She probably didn’t know I was here. She… she must be looking for me, she must be so worried. I should go to her-”

“You’re not well enough to leave.” The doctor spoke from behind the woman, worried even though Jun’s movements were restrained. “I wouldn’t suggest-”

“I don’t want your suggestion. I want you to open these-” He tugged on the belts. “-so I can go.”

Everyone exchanged looks, shifting in their places.

“Open them!”

“Again, I’m sorry Mr. Jun.” The woman approached him slowly, an injection clearly visible in her hand this time. “This is for your good.”

Once again, everything became blur before it all went dark.

31st January 2025

“She didn’t pick the call.” The woman without a coat, who’s name Jun learnt was Mira, walked up to him. “Again.”

Sighing, Jun looked outside the window. The streets were busy - cars were going up and down, people were walking about, some laughing, some stressed. But everything was moving, everyone was moving. Only his life had come to a standstill.

“Do you remember anyone else’s number?”

Jun shook his head. “Who even memorises numbers these days? Everything is stored on my phone-”

“-which broke in the accident.” She finished for him.

“I only remember my girlfriend’s number because she forced me to remember it in case of emergencies like these.” He chuckled softly, walking up to the wall with the pictures of the two of you stuck all over. He ran his fingers over the picture of you hugging him from behind, head resting on his shoulder. “She was always so well prepared, always a step ahead….. except now.”

When Jun woke up 3 days ago, Mira had been there to tell him you were nowhere to be found. She had looked for you at home, which had been abandoned for over a month, at the library where you often worked on your projects, at the stores where you preferred to shop, at the park where you jogged every morning. You were nowhere.

Your family was nowhere to be seen either - the house was locked and the neighbours claimed they had gone somewhere overseas. There was no trace of you at all - it was like you had vanished into thin air, like you were just a mirage, a dream.

“I wish I could help Jun.” Mira walked up to him, placing her hand on his shoulder, looking around his apartment. “I’m sorry the only thing I could assist you with is getting you back home. But I had someone clean up the place so it should be more habitable now.”

“Thank you Mira, for everything.” He muttered, slowly moving her arm away, tearing his eyes away from the photographs. “I’m sorry, I… I think I should….. shower, I smell like the hospital.”

She nodded as Jun disappeared into the washroom, wordlessly asking her to leave. Grabbing her bag, she shot him one last sad look as she hesitatingly made her way out.

Standing before the mirror, Jun sighed at his reflection - he had never seen himself look this lifeless. Wincing in pain, he removed his shirt slowly, pulling it over his head - almost healed gashes and wounds were littered all over his torso.

The memory of an injured you flashed behind his shut eyes.

“Where are you Y/n?” He whispered, trying not to let his voice shake. “Come back to me.”

Jun glanced at the small coffee shop across the road, one he had never seen before, the hanging sign board slowly swaying in the cold wind - Lonely Hearts Cafe.

So many things had changed over the last month. He, who was the biggest homebody known to mankind, could not bear to stay in his house for another minute. Not where every inch of it was filled with the essence of you, where everything was a reminder of you. A part of him was relieved that there were pictures and traces of you were everywhere - that meant you were real, not a figment of his imagination…. but that also made your absence hurt more.

He had spent the last few hours wandering the streets mindlessly, trying not to let everything outside the haven the two of you built together remind him of you too.

But there you were, in your favourite pizza shop on the corner of the street, munching on a slice. Just as he approached, shocked and frantic, you disappeared, like you were never there. And then he saw you again, at the hairdressers this time, getting just the ends trimmed, like always. And then you were by the butchers, petting that little dog you adored. And then by the lake, glancing at the frozen waters, vanishing as usual when he approached to stand by you. Even though you weren’t really around, his eyes found the memories of you everywhere - it was like he didn’t know a life without you.

There was no life without you.

The cafe he was currently staring at was perhaps the only place that Jun knew he wouldn’t see you. It looked new, like a business that had just freshly found itself in this vicinity but something about it was also whimsical and fairytale-like, as though it was someone’s old dream came true. Jun had never been a coffee kinda guy - Chinese tea was usually his go-to beverage so it didn’t make sense why he felt this strange urge to go in. Maybe because he knew he wouldn’t be haunted by your absence there.

At first, he took a step ahead, attempting to go towards it but he was unable to take another - he didn’t want to not see you. Even though it hurt, he’d rather see the memories of you everywhere than familiarise himself with a life without you.

So shaking his head, he turned away, heading back home, going back to everything that reminded him of you when…… something caught his eye.

At first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him again because there was no way….

Inching closer, ignoring the oncoming traffic and the screaming drivers, he crossed the road, standing right before the large glass windows of the shop. Slowly raising his hand, he wiped the condensation off the frosted glass, catching a clear sight of what was inside.

You.

There you were, walking about in a little checkered apron, placing cups of coffee on the table as you flashed your bright smile at those who were seated.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jun turned around, fists tightened painfully. You’ll disappear again, just like all those times before, you’ll disappear again, he was just imagining this, projecting his innermost desire. You weren’t really here….right?

But the sound of your laughter told him he was wrong. Quickly turning back, he caught sight of you again, making your way to the counter, putting cash into a large glass jar on the wooden shelf.

As though in a trance, Jun walked over to the door and pushed it open, eyes not leaving you as you laughed and scribbled something down on a notepad before walking to the tables with a bounce in your strut he had never seen before.

Just as your name found itself on the tip of his tongue, you stopped your tracks and turned around, eyes finding him walking in, lips curling with a wide smile.

“Hi sir, welcome to Lonely Hearts Cafe.” Clutching the notepad to your chest, you beamed at him. “Do you want to take a seat or get a drink to go?”

“Y/n…” He whispered, barely able to hear himself, taking a small step ahead.

“Oh I almost forgot,” You softly smacked your head. “If you’re interested, we’re having a small valentines special event, for singles. Any two people who get the exact same drink will be paired to sit at the same table. It’s kind of a ‘if your tastes match, maybe you guys will too’ sort of concept?”

Given he was staring at you with a vacant expression, you blinked at him like you weren’t quite sure if he understood.

Jun didn’t understand. Why were you behaving like he was a stranger? Like you didn’t know him.

Maybe…. this wasn’t you.

“So…” Tucking your loose fringes behind your ear, you tried searching his face for an answer. “What would you like?”

Jun’s eyes flickered to the healing gash on your forehead, the night of the accident, flashing in his mind again.

It was you. There was no doubt it was you.

And so without a second thought, Jun took two big strides, pulling you towards him, wrapping his arms around you tightly, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Excuse me?! Sir-”

“Where have you been?” He muttered, not realising you were struggling to break free from his grip. “I’ve been looking for you-”

“Get off me!” Using all your strength, you pushed him off you, causing the man to take a few staggering steps back, shocked.

All heads in the cafe turned towards the two of you, a strange silence descending upon the room before hushed whispers broke out. Flashing a fake smile at everyone, you quickly grabbed Jun by his wrist, leading him out of the cafe, shutting the door behind you.

“What the hell was that?” You glared at him. “Sir, I don’t know who you think you are, but that was unacceptable.”

Jun blinked at you confused. “I thought….I thought-”

“I don’t care what you thought.” You crossed your arms looking stern, all the warmth from earlier having left your being. “If I ever see you in my cafe again, I swear to god I will call the cops.”

“You…” Jun looked at you incredulously. “You’ll call the cops on me?”

“Most definitely.”

It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. Why would you call the cops on him? Were you mad at him about something?

Jun’s racked his mind, trying to think of the last conversation the two of you had. The night of the accident. He couldn’t remember all too well, but the image of you glancing at your empty ring finger flashed in his mind.

“Is this about….getting married?” You frowned as Jun ran his hands through his hair. “If it really means this much to you then, fine, let’s get married. I just wanted it to be-”

“Married?” You looked at him like you couldn’t believe what he was saying. “Why on Earth would I marry you? I don’t even know you-”

“Jun!”

At the sound of his name, Jun turned around, only to find himself being slammed into the familiar chest of a tall, lanky man. The fragrance of expensive perfume immediately told him who it was - His best friend Minghao. As Jun tried to break free from his friend’s untimely interruption, Minghao held him tight, whispering in his ear.

“Don’t say a word.”

“Mr. Xu.” You glanced at the intertwined figures of both men, eyebrows furrowed. “You know this man?”

“Y/n.” Breaking free, Minghao threw his arm around Jun, flashing a hard smile. “This is Jun, he’s a dear friend. Sorry if he said anything or got out of line - he was just discharged from the hospital after a big accident, he’s a bit disoriented.”

“Oh.” You looked at him up and down as though it all made sense and you were unable to decide whether to feel sympathetic or stand your ground. “Mr. Jun, I’m sorry you went through all that but whatever you did, that was not appropriate at all.”

“Y/n what-”

“Yes of course.” Minghao squeezed Jun’s shoulder, shutting him up. “He won’t be troubling you again.”

“If you really do need a cup of coffee, there are a lot more shops down the street that I’m sure will suit your taste.” You took a step back, reaching for the door again, expression unreadable. “Please don’t come back to me.”

With that you pushed the door open and disappeared into the cafe allowing Minghao to finally let go of his friend who turned to him, beyond confused.

“What…. What was that?” He pointed at you, waiting the tables again inside, like nothing happened. Like he didn’t exist.

“Jun…” Minghao let out a shaky breath, looking carefully at his friend. “Let’s go home, I’ll explain everything.”

“No.” Shaking his head frantically, he reached for the door again. “I’m not going anywhere without Y/n.”

Moving quickly, Minghao put himself in between, blocking the way.

“Please.” He held his hand out. “Y/n, she…. she won’t come with you.”

Jun looked at him incredulously. “Why not?”

“Because she doesn’t remember….” Minghao spoke slowly, watching his friend’s face carefully. “She doesn’t remember you.”

The throbbing pain was back.

Actually, it never left. The pain was always there, it was him who had suppressed it under everything else. But with the revelation of things, it became unhinged, freely coursing in his being, hurting everywhere.

Minghao poured Jun another cup of tea as the two men sat at the dining table, the latter still clutching a photo of you, trying to make sense of all that he was told.

“She….she doesn’t remember me at all?” He frowned, still confused. “Because of…. you?”

“Because she doesn’t want to.” Minghao corrected his friend, yet again. “Jun, it was her choice to do the procedure.”

The procedure.

Minghao had spoken all about it in great detail for the last half an hour. It all went over his head though, Jun didn’t register a single piece of the information thrown at him except one thing - the procedure was to remove memories.

Yes apparently that was a thing. A new initiative by Minghao’s company - a simple medical procedure in which one could choose to erase their memories of a certain period of time. A process straight out of the sci-fi books - one so ridiculous, Jun would have never believed it if it weren’t coming out of his best friend's mouth.

That his girlfriend had gotten all her memories of him wiped from her mind.

“It makes no sense.” Jun shook his head. “Why would she want to forget me? Why would she choose to…”

Minghao looked at his friend staring at your photo sadly. He had always known Jun to be someone full of life - he was ambitious, passionate and always bursting with energy. But now he looked like the whole world had come crashing around him.

“I’m sorry Jun.” Minghao could feel the guilt eating him on the inside. “All of it happened in my company, right under my nose but I had no idea Y/n had gotten it done till it was all over. Maybe if I had reached the clinic just a little earlier, I could have stopped them from injecting the serum-”

“No Hao, whether you could stop her or not, it won’t change the fact that Y/n wanted to….” Jun swallowed the bile rising in his throat. “She didn’t want to just leave me or walk away from this relationship, she wanted to erase its entire existence from her life. To pretend like it never happened. But why…”

“I wish I knew Jun.” Minghao shook his head softly. “All I know is that this choice mustn't have been easy for her - to forget you she had to have the last 10 years of her life removed. That’s how far she was willing to go to…”

Minghao's words rang in his ears.

10 years….

Maybe it would have been better if the last ten years didn’t happen at all.

The night of the accident…. that's what he had said.

Oh god, was that why you….

What had he done?

“Jun?” Minghao snapped his fingers before his friend's face. “Where are you lost-”

“This was a mistake.” Jun shook his head. “This was all a horrible misunderstanding. I didn’t mean…”

“Mean what?”

Jun couldn’t even recall why he had said that. It was like his brain was suppressing the stupidity from recurring.

“I need to talk to her. I need to fix this.”

“How exactly-”

“I’ll marry her, right this instant if that’s what it takes-”

“Jun no-”

“Hao, yes.” He turned to his friend, determined. “I can fix it. I can talk to her and sort this out. Just help me put her memories back again-”

“That’s not-”

“-and I’ll make her see how much I love her-”

“Jun, that's not possible.” Minghao raised his voice, interrupting his friend’s rant. “Dealing with memories isn’t child’s play. It's one thing to remove them, but to restore them? That’s impossible.”

It felt like everything around was shattering. “You mean she won't ever….”

Minghao shook his head, delivering the final blow. “She won't… ever.”

Jun stared at the photo in his hand.

Minghao, who had insisted on staying the night, had hit the shower, his tea sitting cold in its cup.

Cold draft was blowing in through the open kitchen window. The tips of his fingers were frozen but they were not colder than the thing wrapping around his heart, eating it away.

Minghao’s last words as he was lingering by the door rang in his ears.

“Y/n chose to forget you Jun, she chose to restart her life. Maybe it’s best that you do too.”

Restart his life? Pretend like you didn’t exist and move on? How on Earth was he supposed to do that?

He glanced at the room around him - at the pictures of you on the walls, at the vase you brought back from your trip to spain, at the coasters you always made sure to use, at the rug you specifically had made to match the couch, at every single thing in his life that was a testament of you. How was he supposed to forget all of it?

But the truth was, you had forgotten it all. You had walked out of his life, your home and everything the two of you had built together over the last 10 years. None of this around him meant anything to you anymore.

You had built a new world for yourself, one which Jun had reached, lost in his thoughts. The cafe, the coffee, the customers, the infectious smile on your face, the little bounce in strut, the way your hair fell over your shoulder as you’d turn - you had built something that had no trace of him but more importantly, you looked so happy. Jun couldn’t remember the last time he saw you smile this wide, or even laugh at something stupid. The winter was harsh on the city outside but everything around you seemed so warm.

Maybe Minghao was right. Maybe it was best that he forgot it all too.

1st February 2025

“Where do I put this?”

Jun turned to Mira who was holding up a bunch of books in her arms.

“They're all cookbooks, but I'm not sure whether to put it in the box with her law books or in the one with magazines.”

“We can just leave these out.” Taking them from here, Jun walked into the kitchen. “We don't have to put away everything.”

Sighing Mira followed him. “Jun, boss said everything. Everything that belongs to her, everything that reminds you of her.”

Jun stared at the books in his hands. Two hours ago, he was sprawled on the couch half asleep, your scarf wrapped around his hand, a frame with your photo in his arms. Much to his annoyance, the consistent ringing of the bell forced him to drag himself to the door and standing on the other side was Mira.

Jun didn't think he would ever have any reason to see her again but apparently, Mira wasn't just a random hospital staff who helped him - she was in fact Minghao's employee, a psychiatrist who worked in his Memory Wipe project and was asked by him to look after Jun till he came around, as a favour. That day when she left the apartment, she had immediately told Minghao about all that happened - that's how he found his friend declaring he was ready to marry you in front of the coffee shop. Mira though, had no idea about you or that you had your memories wiped - she only found out when Minghao, who left early in the morning for a meeting, sent her over to Jun’s house with a new phone and a contract. A contract to obliterate the last 10 years of his memories.

“You want me to erase her existence?” Jun furiously muttered into the phone. “How did you even think-”

“Will you be able to survive with her memories?” Even though he couldn't see his face, Jun knew Minghao was donning a sorry expression. “It'll kill slowly you, Jun. Not being able to be with her, not being able to forget her, not being able to move on. If I had to name something worse than hell, this is it.”

For long after the call ended, Jun stared at the contact papers on the coffee table, his mind disturbed. As much as he didn't want to distance himself from you, could he really live with the fact that you'll never be his again? It had been barely 2 days since he was awake and he was already at the verge of losing his mind. Maybe it was better he too forgot it all.

But it also pained him to think that if both of you forgot everything, then there was no one who truly knew the kind of pure and unwavering love the two of you shared over the last ten years. At least for the sake of those, he had to stay strong, he had to live with this. But could he really?

And it was thoughts like this that had him rooted to his chair for over an hour.

“You don't have to decide now.” Mira interrupted his cycle of thought, tired of watching his unmoving figure. “The procedure is simple. I already have the 10 year formula ready in your name. All you have to do is just come by the centre when you're ready - one injection and it'll be done.”

As much as Jun was grateful for the time, there was one thing Minghao wanted him to do immediately - clear the apartment of anything and everything that belonged to you. That's what the two of them were in the middle of right now as Mira glanced at the cookbooks in his hands.

“Jun, whether or not you want to get the Memory Wipe, you need to get rid of all these things. You won't ever move on otherwise-”

“They're cookbooks.” Jun rolled his eyes, placing them on the shelf of the kitchen. “Has it not occurred to you that I might use these myself?”

Mira stared at him like she didn't believe him but Jun ignored her. There was no way he was going to get rid of every last bit of you. What would be left of him then?

All your clothes were packed and stashed in the store room, all the pictures of the two of you were taken down, your books, your things, everything was sealed and locked away. Except a few that Jun refused to let go - the lavender cream you used every night, the harmonica you loved to play, the cookbooks you swore would make you a better chef than him. Jun didn't have the heart to walk away from all of it just yet.

Giving up, Mira began walking away. “I'm going to put her shoes away.”

“Wait.” Aligning the books hurriedly, Jun quickly ran over to the closet. “Maybe just leave those heels.”

Mira looked exasperated. “What use could you possibly have of women's footwear?”

Nothing. Jun just loved those black stilettos you wore to work - the sound of them against the wooden flooring was what told him you were home everyday.

“Jun, this whole thing isn't just about you getting over Y/n. If you plan to do the Memory Wipe, you especially need to do this” Mira stood up sighing. “Imagine losing 10 years of your life and coming home and finding a woman's things all over. You won't remember her, you won't know what happened, you won't have any answers, it'll drive you mad. Please, listen to me, you need to get rid of it all.”

Jun turned away, peeling his eyes from the closet as Mira put the last of your footwear in the boxes, looking at him sadly.

“How did Minghao even design this procedure?” Jun glanced at the contact papers fluttering on the table. “I knew he was indulging in some biomedical R&D, I had no idea it was this intense.”

Mira chuckled. “Biomedical R&D barely covers the scope of what he does. Let's just say the Xu enterprises dabble in a lot of things and the Memory Wipe is their latest project. Actually its just undergoing it's last clinical trial - it’s not even advertised or available for the public.”

“How did Y/n get to know about it then?” Jun frowned like it didn't make sense. “Minghao never talks business with me and I'm sure he's never mentioned it to her either. Then…”

“There were a bunch of lawyers involved in the legal aspects of the clinical trials.” Mira confessed, shrugging. “Maybe she heard from someone in the fraternity.”

“Funny.” Jun smiled sadly. “Y/n has never been one for office gossip. She just liked to get her work done and head straight back home. It was always about efficiency and not wasting time.”

Mira smiled. “That's an admirable work ethic.”

“Right? I wish I had that.” Jun glanced out of the window at the snow tumbling out of the sky. “Maybe she wouldn't have had to work so hard if I did.”

“What do you mean?”

Jun glanced at Mira who had joined him, before continuing to stare out.

“Y/n always believed in working hard. For her, a job was simply a means to make money. She didn't associate it with dreams or passion, it was just… survival? Me on the other hand, ever since I was a child, all I wanted to do was be an actor. I spent the last, god knows how many years, chasing that dream, picturing myself before the cameras, walking down red carpets. If I look back at my life, all I see are auditions and rejections and more rejections.”

“It's not wrong to want to live your dream.”

“No it's not but I don't know how right it is to live with your head in the clouds. Y/n always had her feet on the ground - that was the only reason we survived through it all.”

“So your story is the ‘opposites attract’ kind?”

“I guess.” Jun laughed softly. “We were polar opposites actually. She hates talking, I'm always chatting away. She's a mess, I'm neat. She hates doing household chores, I love doing them. Even in food, she loves sweet things, I like them spicy. Our preferences in anything, be it music or movies or where to go or what to wear, they were always so different but I guess….that's what made things fun. Sometimes she'd adjust for me, sometimes me for her, and though things weren't going our way, we were happy because we were making each other happy.”

“Wow.” Mira let out a breath. “I always thought being in love with someone entirely from me would be difficult to handle.”

“If I'm being honest, there were times it did get difficult.” Jun wiped the condensation off the window with his hand, catching sight of your cafe across the street. “Y/n lived life like it was a checklist. Graduating high school at 18, then law school at 23, first job at 24, marriage at 25, three kids by the time she's 30, retired by 55, starting an organic farm business at 57 and then dying whenever - she had her whole life planned. Me on the other hand, I… live in the moment, go where life takes me. Everything around us is so uncertain, think about the accident”

Jun’s voice shook as fragments of it flashed in his head.

“We could have died, life as we know could have ended, so what's the point in deciding everything so prematurely? I take life by the day, I enjoy every moment - one day I'm doing martial arts classes for kids, one day I'm teaching old women some Chinese dishes, one day I'm doing a modelling contract. End of the day, I still make money to feed myself and pay my bills, I just don't go to bed having the next 10 years of my life planned and somehow….. I think that's what drove us apart. That's why she…” Jun let out a deep breath. “That's why she decided to start afresh. Her practicality and my emotional disposition just… didn't find any middle ground.”

Mira softly placed her hand on Jun's shoulder, caressing it with her thumb. Clearing his throat, he took a step back, tearing his eyes away from the coffee house.

“We should probably continue with the packing.”

Mira nodded as she followed him, the two of them sorting things silently this time. Normally Jun wouldn't ever let go of a chance to talk about you, but now, given he had to speak about you in past tense, Jun couldn't bring himself to talk about you over and over again. Minghao was right, it was all just getting harder and harder.

And so, the next few hours were navigated in mostly silence and occasional questions. By the time the sun had begun to set, the two of them were done - all of your things had been neatly packed and put in the store room, the door locked, keys stashed in Mira's pocket for safe keeping. A couple of things had been piled by the door to be thrown out, Jun's take out dinner had arrived and Mira was lingering by the door, ready to leave. Yet the contract papers were sitting on the table, like an elephant in the room. Unable to hold herself back anymore, Mira sighed.

“Jun, I know Minghao left the choice to you but as a professional and as someone who cares about you, I think it's best you…. " She gulped. "sign the contract. I've seen some couples after the clinical trials, trust me, you don't want to live this weight-”

“Mira,” Jun’s voice left him between gritted teeth. “It's been barely 2 days since I got to know about what Y/n did. I haven't even decided if I am to be sad or angry or stay or move on.” He shut his eyes, running his hands through his hair. “The only reason I agreed to keep her things away or allowed someone else to even touch them was because one, I trust Minghao more than anything and two, if I really want to, I know I'm strong enough to break the door of that storeroom and get everything back. But what you're asking of me, is a permanent change. Please just…. Let me think things through at my pace.”

Mira blinked at him, her hand on the handle of the door, unmoving.

“Thank you for your help yet again Mira, but I think it's time you go.”

And before the apology even left her mouth as she stepped out, Jun shut the door behind her, leaning against it.

He just needed some time. That’s all.

Or at least that's what he thought but in just a few hours, he realised he didn't.

Yesterday was perhaps bearable because Minghao, although he didn't speak much, was there in the house. Today though, heating up his food all alone, sitting at the table by himself, walking around his house in the dimness of the night lights, staring at the empty walls and empty shelves - it was all too much. Jun couldn't bring himself to go another day like this, forget the rest of his life.

Taking a deep breath he sat on the couch, pulling the papers towards himself, then pen in his hand shaking.

He wasn't strong enough for this - he couldn't go on without you.

Finally making up his mind, he gripped the pen tight and signed the contract. There was no other way.

But the universe said otherwise.

If Jun had just turned around and gone to his room, things would've gone down very differently. Maybe if he decided to sleep instead of clearing the dishes and throwing the trash, he would've never thought about clearing all the boxes that Mira left by the door. Maybe then he wouldn't have come across that box.

At first glance when he opened it, it seemed like odd bits of trash - there were pieces of paper, little trinkets, bills and what not. He was just about to throw it when his eye caught the familiar logo on one of the bills - the Lovers Cavern. The first Michelin star restaurant that Jun had taken you to on a date. Frowning, he ran his fingers through the contents of the box, recognising them one by one. Carnival and movie tickets, the crinkled wrapper of the ice cream he loves, the magnets from your first road trip together, the dried corsage from your first dance together…. everything was a thoughtful piece of the time the two of you spent together.

You had been carefully saving them over the last 10 years.

Jun stared at it wordlessly, lost in thought. He had never taken you as one for sentimentality. Hell you didn't even like taking photos or recording videos of your time together, he was always the one who had to pull you in, forcing you to smile. He had always assumed those small moments meant nothing to you but this box told him a different story - you had been treasuring them all these years in your own way. This relationship wasn’t just part of a checklist, you had been emotionally invested in it since the beginning, since 10 years.

Jun could only imagine how much his words must have hurt you that day…. Clearly enough to make you take such a big step. You didn't walk away because you wanted to. You walked away because of him. His words made you…. it was his fault.

Walking over to the window, Jun glanced at your cafe, watching as you stepped out with a couple of bags in your hands, turning off the lights and locking the door. As you balanced your things in your hands, waving for a cab, Jun slowly realised….. Minghao was wrong.

His only options weren't to either live with your memories alone or forget you and move on. There was a third one. One that Jun was about to choose.

He was going to get you back. He had done it once and he could do it again.

Jun was going to make you fall in love with him all over again.

2nd February 2025

Rubbing the back of your sore neck, you sat down at the benches outside the cafe, enjoying the cold.

One might think you were stupid for sitting in the snow clad street in just a small dress and an apron but the heat of the coffee was getting unbearable. Sipping on your own coffee, you glanced at the hustle and bustle down the street. Everyone looked so busy, like they were navigating life with a purpose. This coffee shop had always been your purpose, the dream you had been living for almost a month now yet something felt unfulfilled. Something was missing. Before you could figure out what, a voice broke you out of your reverie.

“Is the same drink, same table offer still going on?”

Raising your head, you let your eyes find the man who interrupted the few minutes of your me-time.

“Mr. Wen Junhui.” You cleared your throat, letting the annoyance show on your face. “I believe I had asked you not to enter my shop?”

“You did.” Jun nodded, sitting down beside you, a few feet away. “And I did not enter your shop - technically I'm outside.”

You glared at him, eyes narrowed.

“Well since you're such an ardent follower of what I say, you shouldn't be sitting with me either because-”

“Because I need to have the same drink as you, right?” Jun cocked his head at you, raising his cup. “And I do.”

“There's no way.” You chuckled, taking a sip. “I can assure you, you don't.”

“Correct me if I'm wrong,” Jun took a sip, smiling to himself because he knew he was not wrong. No one knew you better than him. “But I think that's a caramel macchiato with hazelnut cream.”

Lips slightly parted in surprise, you stared at him.

“M-maybe.” You muttered, taking a sip yourself. “But I still don’t think it’s the exact same-”

“Yeah, it might not be exact.” Jun shrugged nonchalantly. “Not like I’m lactose intolerant or anything but I felt like taking it with oat milk today.”

The cup nearly slipped from your hand. You were lactose intolerant. You always took your coffee with oat milk.

Choosing not to tell him that, you simply continued to stare at the busy crowd. Jun let out an inward sigh of relief knowing he had earned the place to sit next to you.

“Y/n…” Clearing his throat, he corrected himself. Baby steps Jun. “Ms. Y/n I uh actually wanted to apologise about that day.”

You turned to him, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“I had actually just gotten out of the hospital that day and I don’t think the anesthesia wore off completely so I was apparently just going around and…. proposing marriage to various women.”

You raised your eyebrows like you didn’t believe him.

“It’s true, I spent the whole day today saying sorry to every business owner on this street…. And drinking the same coffee order as them. I think I’m going to have a tough time in the bathroom tomorrow….”

Scoffing, you turned away from him and if Jun didn’t know you better, he wouldn’t have known you were hiding a tiny smile.

“Again I’m really Ms. Y/n, I wish that didn’t happen and that we could have a fresh start. I was really looking forward to having coffee here.”

Letting out a deep resigned breath, you stood up, chugging the last of your drink. Tossing the cup in the bin, you turned to him, clasping your hands before you politely, giving him a small smile.

“Mr. Wen Junhui, welcome to Lonely Hearts cafe. We’re a small business that opened just a month ago so we’ve got some really good deals on coffee and cake. We even have a Valentine’s day event - you get to share a table with the person who has the same drink as you. I hope we see you around.”

Returning your smile, Jun got up, giving a small shrug. “That Valentine’s day event is interesting - I would love to… be seen around.” He chuckled, holding his hand out. “It’s nice knowing you Ms. Y/n.”

Glancing at his outstretched hand, you slowly took it, wrapping your fingers around it. Somehow on the cold winter day, there was a strange warmth radiating between the two of you.

“It’s nice getting to know you too Mr. Jun.”

3rd February 2025

“You know, you don’t look like someone who enjoys coffee.”

Jun turned at the sound of your voice, finding you right beside the door he just walked in. You had a tray in your hands and an amused smile on your face.

“What makes you say that?”

“The face you made yesterday?” You laughed as you walked in, Jun following behind you. “I’ve never seen someone look so disgusted while drinking coffee.”

Jun suppressed a smile as he leaned against the counter. “Oh so you were watching me.”

Rolling your eyes, you walked towards the machines. “I happened to see.”

“The one yesterday was just too sweet.” He shuddered, recalling the taste. “My taste buds were dying.”

“Well obviously it was sweet, it’s caramel.” You pulled out a piece of cake, putting it on the counter as a waitress walked over, taking it. “Did you expect it to taste like Malatang?”

Oh Jun would love some Malatang right now.

“No, but something told me your coffee would taste much better than that one.”

You chuckled, pulling up a cup. “Is that going to be your order for today?’

“Nope.” Jun shook his head. “I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

“What I’m having?” You frowned, confused.

“How else will I be able to share a table with you?”

Jun could tell you were holding back a smile. “And why would you want to do that?”

“I thought coffee with a side of conversation would be nice.”

“I’m working.”

“I’ll wait.”

“I only get off at 5.”

“I’ll wait.”

“And then I need to head straight home.”

“I just need 10 minutes.”

You raised your eyebrows like you were trying to figure out what his intentions were. Meanwhile, he looked at you determined, like he’ll wait for a lifetime, if that’s what it took. Sighing you pulled out a piece of cake and set it before him. Then changing your mind, you quickly swapped it for a couple of lemon biscuits and slid it to him.

“They’re on the house.”

And with that you tightened your apron and walked away, leaving Jun staring at his favourite biscuits on the counter.

“Do you need any help?”

You looked up from the table you were cleaning at Jun who was still here, his coat discarded, cheeks flushed red and eyes tired.

“I have staff Mr. Jun.”

“She left.” He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Told me to inform you.”

“Huh.” You frowned. “She always stays till I close for the extra ten I hand her every day.”

Jun remained silent, looking away.

“You paid her.”

“I was just helping her go home fast.”

Sighing, you straightened yourself, crossing your arms. “Okay what is it, what do you want?”

“I told you, a conversation.”

“Well that’s what we’re having right?”

“Right…” Jun cleared his throat, unsure how to frame his sentences while you continued to look at him expectantly. When he didn’t say anything, you rolled your eyes and continued cleaning up.

“I was thinking…” You held out the tray, making him quickly free his hands to hold it as you began stacking plates and cutlery on it. “You’re a woman.”

“Are you doubting it?” Frowning, you walked over to the trash can, Jun right behind, struggling to balance everything.

“No! I mean I wasn’t thinking if you were a woman, more like I was thinking since you’re a woman and I’m a man….”

Jun trailed off completely lost about where he was going with this till you relieved him of the weight in his arms, placing the tray in the sink.

“Mr. Jun,” You untied your apron, tucking it on the rod of the drawer. “You only have 10 minutes.”

“Okay okay.” Jun recomposed himself, watching you pack up your things for the night. Looks like he just had to get straight to the point. “Yes I have 10 minutes right now, but my worry is, we only have 10 days.”

“What do you mean?”

“It's Valentine's in 10 days….” Jun muttered below his breath trying to gauge your reaction.

“Are you…” You narrowed your eyes at him unsure. “Is this your way of asking me out?”

“No god,” Jun groaned, running his hands through his hair. “I swear I planned it so much better in my head-”

“Don’t.”

And with that one word, you crushed everything. All the hope, the longing, the yearning.

“Look Mr. Jun, normally I wouldn't go into the details but I don't want you to think I'm blowing you off but about a month ago, I got a Memory Wipe. I lost the last ten years of my life and I’m still trying to come to terms with how much things have changed.... I’m just not ready for any kind of commitment.”

“But….” Jun blinked at you confused. “You smiled…”

“Sorry?”

“Yesterday and today…. I thought, you might also…”

“Mr. Jun.” You sighed, donning your jacket, zipping up. “You’re a good looking man, you’re sweet and I can tell you’d be a good conversation but I didn’t mean for it to be more than that. I just assumed it would be some harmless flirting.”

“I don’t want it to just be harmless flirting.” Jun shook his head. “I want something more. I like you and I want to-”

“Like me, why?” You looked at him confused, grabbing your bags. “We’ve barely spoken more than 5 sentences to each other.”

We’ve been in love for more than 10 years Y/n.

“I can’t explain it, it just…. feels right.”

“Well I can’t function based on your whims and feelings, can I?”

Jun stood frozen as you turned off the lights and opened the door, stepping out. Grabbing his jacket he followed you, watching you lost in thought as you locked the door before you turned to him.

“Look, you seem like a nice guy and I’m sure you’ll find someone. It just can’t be me, I’m not in the space for it.” Adjusting the bags in your hands, you shot him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry Mr. Jun.”

And with that you walked away, your figure moving further and getting smaller as cold winds returned to the city. For some stupid reason, Jun hadn’t anticipated this - he didn’t think about the possibility of you rejecting his advances. He just assumed the two of you would fall into the comfortable pattern of dating each other and everything would slowly return to normal. Your disappearing self was telling him otherwise….

No.

Jun couldn’t allow this to happen. He couldn’t lose this chance.

“Wait!” Pulling his jacket over his shivering body, he ran to you, half tripping on the way. “Wait, please.”

And you did, looking at his panting, coughing self standing in your way, trying to catch his breath. Searching your bags, you handed him a bottle of water but Jun ignored it, looking at you questioningly.

“If whatever happened to you a month ago, didn’t happen, would you agree to go out on a date with a guy like me?”

“I….” You looked around confused. “I don’t know.”

“Do you have any other reason not to give us… to give me a shot?” Crossing his fingers, Jun tucked his hands in his pocket. “Any other reason to say no?”

“Not really, no.”

Bingo.

“I’m sure the aftermath of the Memory Wipe hasn't been easy but life won’t stop just because you want things to pause.” Gulping he looked at you expectantly. “Look Y/n I too am in a space where things are difficult where I want to hit rewind, but I realised maybe it’s better to hit restart and I want to try that with you.”

“Jun I…”

“Here’s my suggestion, just hear me out.” He clasped his hands, ignoring the cold drafts. “Give me 10 days, just 10 days to change your mind about us. I know I can do it, I know I can make you see I’m worth it, that we’re worth it.”

“You’re really not going to take no for an answer are you?”

Jun shook his head, his face falling. “No I…. I don’t want to force you. I was just suggesting-”

“What if I’m not convinced in 10 days?” You sighed, looking at him unsure. “Will you leave the idea of ‘us’ behind and not pursue me anymore?"

“It won’t come to that-”

“If it does.”

“If it does,” Jun took a deep breath. “Then you’ll never see me again. I promise.”

And with that you went silent, like you were considering it. Jun prayed to all possible forces in the universe - please say yes, please say yes, please say yes.

“Okay.” You agreed, slowly nodding your head. “You have 10 days. If I’m not convinced, then on the 10th day, we’re done and we’re never seeing each other again, deal?”

Smiling on the inside, Jun ignored the little victory lap his head was doing. “Deal.”

“And you’re sure this will work?”

Phone against his ear, Jun nodded confidently.

“Positive.”

“What if you’re just setting yourself up for heartbreak again?”

“I’m not.” Jun rolled his eyes. “I know I can get her back. This time I’ll be better-”

“Haven’t you noticed?” Minghao voice was filled with caution. “She’s somehow not the same. The Y/n you knew was a hard core, cut throat lawyer. This Y/n is a barista who sells coffee and the idea of love.”

Jun hummed in thought. “Maybe. But deep down, she’s still my Y/n and I’m her Jun. I know her better than anyone else, I can do this-”

“And if you can’t?”

“Then I’ll live with it. But I can’t let her go without trying.”

“And what if it still doesn’t work?”

“I don’t want to consider that possibility.”

“Jun be realistic. How on Earth do you plan on convincing a woman who thinks you’re a complete stranger, is struggling with her amnesia, and more importantly doesn’t want any commitment, to date you?”

Jun sank into his couch, staring at the ceiling.

“I have no idea.” He confessed.

“Exactly, what if things get worse for you-”

“Can you just for once be a tad bit more positive?” Jun sighed. “Look at the bright side of things. Like for example, Y/n knew I didn’t like coffee-”

“-you make the most disgusting face known to mankind when you drink it, anyone would know-”

“-and she knew I like malatang-”

“-you’re Chinese Jun. I think that was a safe guess-”

“-and she knew lemon biscuits were my favourite dessert.”

This time Minghao went silent.

“Nothing snarky to say?”

When Minghao continued to keep quiet, Jun frowned, sitting up.

“Hao do you think she… remembered?”

“That’s not possible....”

"You don't sound as sure as last time." Jun noted.

Minghao let out a deep breath, like he was frustrated. “Theoretically, a memory restoration is not possible but hearing you I.... I can't tell for sure - we're also still not done with the clinical trials so I cannot exactly negate the possibility."

"So,,," Jun's eyes widened. "You're saying there is a chance she might remember everything?"

"A really really small chance.....” Minghao emphasised. "Or it could just be that since Y/n has known you for ten odd years, some her actions are just reflexive - ingrained in her subconscious after years of habit."

"But you're saying there's a small chance she might remember me again?"

Minghao sighed. Clearly, his friend wanted to just hear one thing.

"Yes. Perhaps if she's repeatedly exposed to you or to something of her past, she might remember certain things again-"

"Enough to make her want to come back to me?"

"I cannot promise that-"

"But I can try." Jun whispered, the cogwheels in his mind turning. "I have to try and Hao, I think I know exactly how."

"How-"

Cutting the call Jun tossed his phone aside and quickly grabbed the box he had stashed below the tea table, opening it. He ran his fingers again through all the memories you had saved, a small smile forming on his face.

Jun had 10 days to win you back - that meant he had 10 chances to remind you of all the good days the two of you shared. 10 memories he could recreate, ones that you yourself had stored in this very box. 10 ways he could prove 'us'..... was truly worth it.

And just like that, Wen Junhui knew exactly how to make you fall in love with him all over again.

You stared at the photo hanging on your wall, arms crossed, eyes slightly damp.

You look so happy,....he looks so happy.

Just like he did when you agreed to give him 10 days to woo you.

Sighing you tore your eyes away and stared at the ground, blinking the tears away.

“Just 10 days," You whispered, voice shaking. "….. and all of this will be over.”

A/n - This fic is tbh very long and overwhelming so I thought its best to have it out in parts? I hope you enjoyed this part and stay tuned for the next too! Thoughts in comments and reblogs are very much appreciated my loves <3

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lay-z · 2 months ago

Text

🎄 Day 14 – A Christmas miracle

A continuation of 🌲 Day 6 – A Christmas tree disaster, which means it’s set in the same universe!

Synopsis: The tension is palpable between you three after the kitchen incident, but you’re determined to fix it for their sake and yours. Perhaps some Christmas spirit will help.

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x fem!Reader x John Soap MacTavish

Warnings/Info: NSFW, 18+ | military!Reader; established poly!relationship; throuple; cussing; hurt/comfort; humour; domesticity; threesome; fluff

Word count: 2.2k

↳ back to 🎅🏼 Masterlist ☃️

@lov3-ly

They just won’t stop bickering.

Every little thing causes an argument, starting at who’s driving the truck. Johnny claims to know his way around and is the better driver, especially in the snow. Simon insists that he rented the truck, so he should be the one driving it. They make you chose, and you choose Johnny, because it makes the most sense, and Simon gets into the backseat, masking his sulking face with indifference.

Once you get to a particularly pretty spot, offroad and untouched, where Nordmann firs grow, the trees who make the perfect Christmas trees, they first start arguing about which tree to cut until they ultimately ask you to choose again, which you hate to do, because you want to make the decision with them – which seems impossible at this point. When you do eventually decide on a pretty tree, deep green and two metres tall, Simon and Johnny argue about which axe to use.

“Ye’re not carryin’ it right.”

“How the fuck can ya carry a tree the wrong way, Johnny?!”

You watch for another moment, vein throbbing hotly in your neck beneath your soft scarf as Simon picks the large tree up by its stump while Johnny carries it by the crown. The snow keeps falling peacefully around you and it could be so tranquil, freezing cold yet wonderful, but they just won’t cooperate like that.

“If you two don’t stop this goddamn bickering, I’m gonna lose my fucking mind!”

Both men huff and grumble at your reprimand, breath puffing in clouds in the cold as they continue to shoot each other nasty glares as they heave the fir onto the truck bed. They stop talking to each other altogether and somehow that’s even worse.

Sitting in the passenger seat, gnawing on your bottom lip anxiously and pissed off, Johnny reaches over, driving one handed while his other hand rests on your upper thigh, squeezing it gently. It makes you squirm and your pussy twitch in pleasure-pain; still sensitive from what you two had done but didn’t finish in the kitchen when Simon made you stop instead of join in – what you’d initially hoped for.

Your panties are damp, completely soaked, and rubbing against your puffy folds as you shift in the passenger seat. You can feel Simon’s eyes burn into the back of your head and stare down Johnny’s hand on your leg, but the latter doesn’t mind as he rubs your thigh up and down. When you glance at Johnny, you can see his lips cracked into a small, impish smile, his crotch bulging with arousal, because he didn’t get to come earlier, either.

Tease.

You’re aware what he’s trying to do and it’s dangerous. Don’t poke the bear or it will snap.

After they manage to put up the tree in the living room with little to no problems or arguing, you clean up after them; puddles of melted snow, scattered fir needles and large boot prints that lead from the front door to the living room.

And then they leave you alone. Johnny disappears into the kitchen to store away the food and drink you’d brought up here before starting on dinner while Simon simply disappears again.

Now it’s quiet in the rented cabin, way too quiet, so you put on some classical music on your phone, but it only adds to the somber atmosphere as you start decorating the Christmas tree with fairy lights and ornaments that you’d brought from home. The snowstorm has picked up again, too; icy winds howling outside while you can only daydream about being curled up on a thick fur carpet in front of the fireplace, sweating as you’re sandwiched between your massive boyfriends.

A dreamy sigh escapes your lips as you take the last ornament out of its vintage box – a golden start that’s supposed to sit on the Christmas tree crown.

Simon watches in silence as you decorate the tree by yourself, going by a particular strategy that he cannot figure out and yet the result looks put prettily put together.

It unlocks childhood memories that he though long erased from his memory; veiled visions of his late mother decorating a meek, little Christmas tree with homemade ornaments in their shitty flat in Manchester when he was but a wee lad, barely able to talk back then. She was always determined to give him and Tommy a piece of that holiday spirit, even though she was never able to afford any presents to put under the tree. And then, the vision turns rotten by the memory of his shithead father knocking the tree over and throwing it down the staircase in a fit of drunken rage.

Simon inhales sharply as his chest tightens with a mixture of raw anger and melancholy, and he swiftly blinks away those memories to focus on the present; focus on you, struggling to put the star on the tip of the tall tree.

“Need any help with that?”

You nearly pinch a nerve in your neck as you flinch, glancing over your shoulder as Simon saunters into the living room; hands stuffed in his pockets, broad shoulders slouched somewhat.

As he comes to stand right behind you, he reaches out, then. One hand supporting your lower back as you keep stretching, standing on your tippy toes, while his other hand grabs the star from your hand gently. “Let me help ya.” He almost croons softly, as softly as he can with his gravelly voice, and you hold your breath as you gaze at his ruggedly handsome face while he places the last ornament on the tree’s crown.

Then his strong arms come to wrap around you from behind, his nose nuzzling you lovingly behind your ear, “Looks nice. Good job, lovey.”

His quiet praise goes straight to your heart, squeezes it tightly and makes your breath hitch as you keep peeking up at him subtly over your shoulder, watching the reflection of the fairy lights in his dark irises, turning them a molten bronze. Cupping your own palms over his rough hands resting on your stomach, you melt against his chest.

“Thank you for putting the most important final touch to it, honey.”

He hums against your neck, enjoying the silly pet name too much and places two chaste kisses below your earlobe that has your skin pebbling with goose flesh. “Never done that before, y’know,” he murmurs, kissing your neck again while one hand slips underneath the hem of your warm sweater, “Decorated a bloody Christmas tree or... even celebrated the bloody holiday properly.”

“About time, then.” You retort, laughing through the pain you feel when his sad admission makes your heart squeeze and throb in your chest this time. “I wanna makes this special for us,” you say, turning around in his embrace to wrap your arms around his neck while both his hands slip beneath your sweater, tracing the curve of your spine.

“I want this to become a tradition for the three of us. Y’know? Renting a cabin for the holidays and hide away for a few days to... relax and... enjoy each other,” you explain, eyes twinkling while your fingers play with the short hairs at the base of his neck. “Would you like that?”

He nods slowly, sheepishly. A shudder runs down his spine as your nimble fingers run through his dark blond hair, though if he’s being true to himself, it’s more about what you’re telling and asking him that has him reeling and trembling internally. Building traditions together, all three of you. That includes him, too. Obviously.

“I’m yours, too, yes?” He utters those words before he can stop himself and his eyes widen imperceptibly at the uncharacteristically needy tone of his deep voice, and he watches in horror as your brows furrow quizzically. “Ah–I mean–”

You huff in amusement, brows relaxing again while your arms tighten around his neck to better convey the meaning of your next words, “Simon, you and Johnny are as much mine as I am yours, yes.”

“Steamin’ Jesus! Can ye kiss already? I wanna see ‘sum tongue with it, aye?”

You can practically feel Simon bristle as Johnny’s teasing tone of voice breaks the tender moment, though you can merely roll your eyes playfully as you peek around Simon’s broad shoulder.

“Who’s the true voyeur here now, John?”

Johnny chortles, completely unabashed as he leans against the wide, open frame that opens the living room up to the hallway. He’s grinning, cocksure as always, eyes shining brightly with mischief as he pushes himself off the frame to saunter towards you while Simon’s calloused fingers flex against your supple skin on your back as if he’s afraid you might move away.

“I feel like we should pick up where we’ve left off earlier,” Johnny purrs, wiggling his thick eyebrows suggestively, “What say ye, Lt.? Wanna help me turn our bonnie lassie into a wee mess?”

You brace yourself with bated breath for another argument, but Simon’s chest rumbles against yours as he regards Johnny with a softening gaze, and the curt nod he gives nearly has your knees buckling.

Strong, calloused hands roll you over onto your back on the plush carpet, making you feel like a worshipped rag doll in the way they handle you, firmly yet carefully. Your vision is so hazy, you can barely tell who’s touching what right now.

The living room reeks of sex; it’s stuffy and warm and you’ve never felt better, more at peace than ever.

A pathetic moan is torn from your throat as Johnny sinks his fat cock back into your dripping cunt with an obscene squelch as Simon’s cum keeps mixing with his. He holds your legs open and up by the back of your knees as he kneels between them; dark hair sticking to his damp forehead as he grinds his hips slowly yet deeply, pushing his cock into your welcoming heat far enough to have his tip kiss your cervix, his girth stretching your velvety walls and having you arch your back into the sensations.

“Tha’s it, hen, keep–ach, fuck–takin’ it like our good girl,” Johnny groans when you squeeze your core around him, sucking him in deeper until he must thrust more powerfully to even thrust at all.

You reach out blindly for the other large man sprawled out on the carpet next to you. His broad, scarred chest rises and falls rapidly as he tries to catch his breath while your sweaty palm pats along his muscular arm, squeezing his bulging biceps with greedy need.

“Si–Si–,” you whine and hiccup as Johnny keeps fucking your soppy cunt with deep, slow rolls of his hips. The big, blond man rumbles deep in his chest in return, answering your whinging calls as his head tilts to the side; dark, half-lidded eyes regarding you languidly.

His mammoth hand reaches out to grasp your chin, thumb rubbing your lower lip to catch your drool and smear it over your burning skin while Johnny starts playing with your swollen clit, making your back arch and your lips part with a louder cry of pleasure.

Simon slips his thumb into your mouth and pushes down on your tongue. “Need more, lovey?” He chuckles darkly as you suck on his meaty digit, eyes flickering up to Johnny, who laughs huskily. Simon’s cock twitches back to life, blood rushing and boiling in his veins as his pale skin keeps flushing. He pulls his thumb from your mouth, eyes crinkling with a smile as your tongue darts out to chase it.

You lick your kiss-swollen lips as you nod, “Uh-huh.”

“Insatiable wee thing,” Johnny groans, hips snapping to make your tits bounce and jiggle the way he loves watching. “Gonna milk us both dry.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Johnny,” Simon huffs and groans as he pushes himself up on his knees, “’m lookin’ forward to it and she is, too.”

Even in your blissfully fucked out state, you want to retort something stupid and witty, but when Simon suddenly grabs Johnny by the back of his neck to pull him into a deep, passionate – and very first – kiss, you nearly loose the last shred of your sanity.

You watch in awe and shameless desire as Johnny briefly tries to pull away from Simon, but the latter has an iron grip on his neck and then Johnny leans back in with a deep sigh, reciprocates the kiss with wild fervour as you watch from below.

They make out sloppily, teetering on aggressive and looking like battered warriors in the warm, dim glowing lights of the Christmas tree. All teeth and tongues. It’s maddening. It’s your personal present and secret wish come true, a Christmas miracle. You catch the way Simon dominates Johnny and your pussy clenches and flutters around Johnny’s fat cock still nestled deeply inside your gummy walls.

You reach down between your thighs, replacing Johnny’s hand with yours as you start flicking the pad of your index finger over your sensitive clit, chest heaving as you enjoy the way your lovers finally start bonding the way they should.

#call of duty #ghoap x reader #ghoap #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #ghost #soap #tf 141 #cod #soap mactavish #simon riley #cod advent calendar 2024 #ghost x reader x soap

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ruggiesbiologicalfather · 2 months ago

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What The NRC Boys Wanted To Be When They Grow Up (circa 4 years old)

Heartslabyul:

Riddle - obviously when you ask, he's going to tell you he wants to be a doctor. every christmas and birthday, he gets a doctor kit. and he likes them! but... if you ask him on a warm afternoon during his free time between the thousand things on his tiny shoulders... he'll tell you he wants to be a painter

Ace - astronaut. hands down. he 100% had those little glow in the dark star stickers on his ceiling and he didn't take them down until high school. on his fourth birthday, his parents got him an astronaut helmet and it was practically welded to his head by the time he turned five. little man yearned for the stars

Deuce - race car driver. he was born with the need to go fast. he would beg his mom to let him watch races on tv and stare with an open mouth as the drivers went around and around and around. he was a big fan of taking big cardboard boxes and running around the yard with them like they were race cars

Trey - dentist. he was an anomaly when he was little: a kid who wasn't afraid of the dentist. he loved going. as a matter of fact, he would often make his friends (mainly chenya) play dentist with him and not understand why they wouldn't let him put his pretend tools in their mouth.

Cater - he desperately wanted to be hannah montana. not like a singer or a dancer, no... hannah montana SPECIFICALLY. the wig, the microphone, everything. he had three hannah montana themed birthday parties in a row

Savanaclaw:

Leona: he could never give an answer when someone asked him what he wanted to be. he knew from a very young age that he couldn't really be whatever he wanted. not in a way that means anything. he wanted to be the king like his daddy, but it was always made clear to him that he could only dream of that. so he just played games and looked at the stars and didn't think of what he wanted to be, just who he was right then. and right then, he was the chess champion of the kingscholar bloodline

Ruggie - cowboy! honestly, he still kind of wants to be a cowboy. he wanted a horse and some cows and a big pasture - the whole nine yards. he never actually got to ride a horse, they were far too expensive, but he would still beg his mom for a cowboy hat and a pair of boots. he got them both when he turned nine and was so excited, he slept with them on. he didn't care that the hat squished his ears and the boots were a little scuffed. he wore them until the soles became more hole than rubber. he still has the hat tucked away in his closet. just in case...

Jack - classic firefighter kid. one day in preschool, a fire truck came to visit in the parking lot, and he was so shocked that he couldn't say a word. the firefighter let the kids sit in the truck and his teacher literally had to pry him out of the seat when they were done, and he cried all the way back to the classroom. the firefighters still made sure he got one of those flimsy plastic hats and a golden sticker of a badge. he thought firefighters were heroes. he still does

Octavinelle:

Azul - scientist. any kind of scientist. he wanted to have a big lab of his own where he could mix up all kinds of chemicals and just... see what happens. obviously at that age, he had very little idea of what scientists actually do but he knew it was the place for him

Jade - he managed to sneak a peek at the original karate kid movie and his life radically changed. from that moment on, he knew he was going to grow up to be a ninja. unfortunately for everyone else involved, this meant he was going to spend years coming up with elaborate plans to sneak up on and attack his brother. his parents quickly became used to the sound of loud, crashing scraps from all corners of the house. but they weren't worried. floyd could handle his own

Floyd - if you try to ask this kid what he wants to be when he grows up and he'll look you dead in the face, say "bagel" and return to his toys. whatever kid

Scarabia:

Kalim - he didn't want to be anything when he grew up, but he wanted to do everything. he didn't want to have a job. in fact, he was never actually told he could do that. instead, he wanted to experience all the joys of life. he wanted to paint and dance and sing and write poems and raise sheep and sail in the ocean and grow figs and play drums and everything

Jamil - this boy practically came out of the womb dancing. he wanted to dance every moment of every day. when there was no one around to play music or kalim was too busy to sing, he would hum little tunes to himself just to have something to move to. he wanted to be one of those dancers who performed all over the world and were applauded with showers of flower petals. he quickly learned that his dream was far from reality. but he kept tapping his toes while he worked

Pomfiore:

Vil - princess. there's no way this boy did not dream of growing up to be a princess. he was obsessed with all things gaudy and sparkly and would try on every single costume available to him. he rarely went to preschool without some sort of mismatched getup on. but his dad didn't care. you can only be this young for so long. so what if his boy wore a crown to school? no one would dare say anything about it, lest they feel the wrath of the schoenheits. vil wouldn't accept any comments that weren't compliments. snide remarks were met with an impressive eyeroll and a flick of his sparkly cape. after all, a princess didn't care what commoners thought

Rook - garbage truck driver. his rich-ass parents were FLOORED when he said this the first time. "honey, don't you want to do something... bigger? like you could run the whole garbage company and make a whole lot of money!" "no! i wanna ride on the back of the truck!" no one could persuade him to dream of anything else. he is immune to your classist ideologies. viva la garbage man!

Epel - he wants to be a vet but SPECIFICALLY a horse vet. like if you mention him wanting to be a vet, he will correct you. the horses around his hometown captivated him and he wanted to be around them all the time. when he was tiny, he would weave around their legs in the pastures and give his family heart attacks. he just loved them so much and they loved him too

Ignihyde:

Idia - he saw sonic the hedgehog once and decided he was going to be dr robotnik. his parents could not decipher why, and they quickly stopped trying to

Ortho - even when he was really little, he wanted to be a teacher. he would line up all his toys and tell them about everything he was learning in preschool. sometimes, the lessons were wrong and idia would pop in to correct him. but that made him mad. he was the teacher not idia! after all, what did idia know that he didn't?

Diasomnia:

Sebek - a swordsmith. not a blacksmith who makes all sorts of things, specifically a swordsmith. he wanted to swing a great big hammer around and make huge, fancy swords. he was often shooed away from the forges and told to stop bothering the craftsmen. but he wasn't trying to bother them, he just wanted to get as close as he could and maybe they would let him hold one when they were done

Silver - he didn't have many ambitions he would admit to. he was a shy kid and didn't like feeling interrogated. but he liked to watch his father play the lyre especially when it was dark and the fire was warm and he was feeling sleepy. lilia always said when he was big enough to hold the instrument, he would teach him to play. maybe it would be fun...

Lilia - he wanted to be a witch. [i hear you saying, "but Ruggie's Biological Father, they're mages so he's already a witch" and i say to you... Wrong]. he didn't just want to cast spells. he wanted a pointy hat and a giant robe and a frog for a friend. once, his mom walked into his room to discover he had her largest cooking pot filled to the brim with no less than nine mystery substances. and it was somehow smoking...

Malleus - being a precocious little boy, he always told people he was going to be a geologist. but he didn't really know what that meant, only that it had to do with rocks which he liked. his dream job was actually wandering around and stuffing his pockets full of rocks. it became a nightly occurrence before bathtime for malleus to stand in front of the bathtub with both arms out to the side and let lilia empty all of his pockets and sleeves and boots. he would laugh loudly as the pile of random stones became a mountain at his feet. lilia would always chuckle, plunk him in the tub, and say "there, now you won't drown"

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roosterforme · 9 months ago

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Aim for the Sky Part 8 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley has to preserve your dignity in the most awkward way possible. He's ready for a relaxing few days off at Christmas with your parents, but their visit gets off to a rocky start. But by the end of their trip, Bradley is once again feeling as hopeful for the future as you are.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, titty fuck, swearing, angst, pregnancy

Length: 5300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

It might have been amusing if it was happening to someone else, but it definitely wasn't. It was happening to him. Bradley looked at the time as he backed his Bronco out of the driveway at top speed and took off down the street. You and he should have been leaving now to get to the airport on time to pick up your parents, but that was just going to have to wait.

"Jesus Christ," he growled, barely pausing at the stop sign after he made sure nobody was coming. Bradley Ross was still packing up his truck not five minutes ago, so he couldn't have gone far. Through polite conversation, Bradley knew that the contractor lived a little further south in Coronado, so hopefully he could catch up to him quickly.

Bradley loved you with his whole being. You were the smartest, most capable person he had ever met. You also had pregnancy hormones on the brain, and if you weren't currently forgetting full conversations you'd had, you were falling asleep on a whim. Getting dirty photos from you was always a welcome distraction, but right now, you needed to focus a little extra on everything. Apparently having two Bradleys around was not the best idea.

"Yes," Bradley gasped, hitting the accelerator even though he was approaching a red light. The white Ross Construction pickup truck was stopped and waiting, and he cut into the other lane to pull up right next to it. "Shit," he groaned, realizing he couldn't roll his passenger side window down from the driver's seat. He started honking his horn before the light turned green, and the other Bradley turned to look at him in surprise, but his expression immediately melted into apprehension. It was obvious he'd seen the pictures. "God damn it."

After gesturing wildly for him to pull over, the light turned green, and Bradley was relieved when the truck moved through the intersection and then stopped in front of the first house. He pulled the Bronco over in front of the truck and hopped out as soon as he killed the engine. This was about to be one of the most awkward conversations of his life, and he'd had his share.

"Hey," he said as calmly as he could as the other man put his window down. Then he cleared his throat and sighed. "You may have received a text message from my wife in error."

He was met with bright red cheeks and guilt ridden eyes, and Bradley felt his hands curl into fists at his sides as his nostrils flared. Fucking hell, this man had seen your tits.

"Uh, I'm assuming that the mix-up occurred because of our names?" he asked. Bradley could see his phone sitting in the cupholder, and he wanted to snap it in half.

"That's right," he replied through gritted teeth. How the fuck was he supposed to proceed here? He needed to make sure your dignity was as intact as it could possibly be at this point, and if he had to get a little aggressive, he would. "Mind letting me see your phone?"

The other man reached for it slowly, and Bradley watched him unlock it as he said, "I only saw the message preview when I started driving."

"But you saw it," Bradley snapped, rubbing his temple as he held out his other hand palm side up.

"Yeah."

Once the phone was in his hand, he confirmed that the message was still unread. At least there was that. While Bradley Ross may have seen your glorious breasts for himself, at least he'd only have his memory to rely on from here on out. He took his time and deleted each of the three photos. Then he emptied out the trash folder. Then he double checked that there was no trace of the photos anywhere before he deleted your contact information from the man's address book. After one more quick sweep to be sure his wife's tits were nowhere to be found, he handed the phone back to the abashed looking man.

He wasn't going to apologize for chasing him down, and he wasn't going to threaten him for something you started. Instead Bradley merely muttered, "Happy holidays," before returning to his Bronco and sliding into the seat.

He didn't realize how much his heart was pounding until he was sitting there in the silent interior, watching the Ross Construction truck pull away. He dug your phone out of his pocket while he started to calm down. When he entered your pass code, he saw that you had a new text from Cam but nothing else. Out of extreme caution, he blocked the other Bradley's phone number before deleting it from your address book, and then he started up the engine.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with her?" he muttered to himself as he pulled a u-turn and headed home. He thought about spanking you, but he was certain you'd just enjoy yourself. Frankly he would too. He wanted to lecture you about always checking the recipient before trying to send him something dirty, but he knew you probably already felt badly enough. When he pulled into the driveway, he saw you peering out the front window, waiting for him. Then he walked inside with his fingers wrapped around both phones and found you standing in the middle of the living room.

"What happened?" you asked, worrying your hands in front of your pregnant belly. Your eyes were wide, and you bit down on your lip, clearly beyond concerned to hear what he had to say. All thoughts of scolding you fled his mind, and when he opened his arms, you rushed toward him.

"I took care of it. Deleted everything from his phone."

"On my god," you moaned, your belly pressing against him as you sighed in relief. He wrapped his arms around you as you settled against his chest and looked up at him. "Did he see the photos?" you asked softly. When he nodded, you winced. "I'm so sorry, Roo."

Tears filled your eyes as he sighed and looked around the room. The house was spotlessly clean, and the mostly undecorated Christmas tree was standing tall in the corner by the window. Everything was ready for your parents to get here, but neither of you made a move to leave.

"I'm not mad at you, Sweetheart. It's not like you sent them to him on purpose," he whispered.

"I would never," you replied, voice filled with conviction. "These are all yours. And soon to be Rosie's." You patted your chest, and Bradley smiled.

"She's the only one I'm dividing my time with." He kissed your forehead. "We should leave to get your parents before it gets any later."

You agreed, and Bradley got you all buckled into the red Bronco. Of course there was a ton of traffic now that it was the peak of rush hour, and shortly into the drive you told him, "My dad texted me. They already landed."

"They're just going to have to wait," he replied, trying his best to merge onto the highway.

You were silent for a few minutes while you messed around on your phone, but finally you asked him, "Did you at least like the pictures?"

Bradley glanced at you from the corner of his eyes. "Of your tits?"

"Yeah," you whispered. "You didn't say anything about them."

He was practically ramming into other cars to try to find a spot in the parking garage at San Diego International after chasing down another man and forcefully demanding he hand over his phone, and you were honestly worried about whether or not he liked the way your boobs looked in the photos. He barked out a laugh as he swung the Bronco into a spot and parked.

"What?" you asked, frowning at him. "You've been very vocal about them!"

He gestured for your phone, and you handed it to him before crossing your arms over your chest. Even though the two of you were late, he took a moment to really look at the photos in question again. He liked the first one where it looked like you were about to spill out of your bra. The second was just as nice since you were showing off your breasts and your wedding rings. And the third one was the main event, literally a vivid depiction of where he currently most enjoyed letting himself unload after he fucked you.

"Yes, Baby Girl. I like the pictures. In fact, I love them." He texted them from your phone to his, making sure he had the correct name selected before he gave your phone back. "And I'd love to see them in person when we get home later if you're in the mood."

You rolled your eyes and squeezed your thighs together. "I'll almost certainly be in the mood," you informed him as you opened your door.

"Oh, one more thing," he said, and you glanced back at him as he smirked. "How about you let me be the resident photographer for the time being?"

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

Your mom and dad looked annoyed when the two of you showed up late to retrieve them from the airport after weeks of assuring them that you'd pick them up without issue, but as soon as they saw your belly, they calmed down.

"Look at you!" your mom gushed, rubbing her hands together before placing them on your bump. "How's our sweet granddaughter?" she asked as Bradley started to collect their luggage.

"Very active," you told her with a smile. "She'll start doing somersaults if you wait there long enough."

"Really?" your dad chimed in, coming to stand with your mom after helping Bradley. That's how you ended up with four hands plastered to your midsection while your husband stood behind you and kissed your ear.

"Want to tell them her name?" he whispered, his lips brushing your skin. You had to assume he wasn't too upset about Bradley Ross and the boob photos if he was still just as loving as always.

Of course your mom heard every word he said and practically shouted, "You picked out a name?"

You nodded as your parents both stared at you. "Rose."

"Rose!" your mom gasped like she'd just won the lottery.

"That's pretty," your dad mused, and that's when the baby started thumping in what seemed like delight. "I feel her!"

"So do I! Hi, Rose! It's your Nana!"

You desperately wanted to go home and eat dinner, but you stood there until your parents wore themselves out asking questions and trying to feel the baby move. Eventually Bradley said, "You must be tired and hungry. There's food at the house, and the attic renovation is done and ready for you."

"Perfect," your mom replied. "You can just tuck us away up there, and we'll be out of your hair."

"That's the idea," Bradley muttered, and you elbowed him hard in the ribs as he led the way outside, pulling the massive suitcase behind him. "Watch it, Sweetheart, or I'll tell them why we were late."

"You wouldn't," you whispered.

He just shrugged. "You think I care if they know you tried to send me dirty pictures? Really, it just shows how much you love me."

You rolled your eyes as he smirked while your parents chattered away about how crazy it was to spend Christmas in California for the first time ever.

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

Bradley thought your parents would be exhausted and in bed as soon as he started cleaning up from dinner, but your dad headed for the nursery to inspect the new furniture which was still in the boxes, and your mom started unpacking your childhood Christmas ornaments from her carry on bag.

"Oh!" you gushed as she handed some to you. "I forgot about these! Bradley, look! It's my handprint from when I was four!"

You were holding up a seriously hideous green and purple Play Doh blog that Tramp was trying to lick, but he couldn't help but smile. "Maybe we can make one with Rosie each year," he mused as you hung it on the tree.

"We have to," you told him as you unwrapped another homemade ornament. You got lost in conversation with your mom, so he wandered to the nursery to see what your dad was up to.

"Hey," he said from the doorway with a little chuckle. Your dad was sitting on the floor with all of the crib parts laid out around him.

"Just checking to make sure everything's here," he muttered, counting a handful of screws. "We're probably going to want to get started on this project first thing in the morning so we have time to get it all done."

"Sure," Bradley agreed. "Thanks again for agreeing to help me with it."

"Happy to help," he murmured, adjusting his reading glasses to peruse the instruction booklet. "Happy to help." Your dad stood and rubbed his back before following Bradley out of the room. They found you and your mom out on the back patio with the lights on, looking at the massive playset.

"It's so cute!" your mom said.

"It's over the top," you responded. "Bradley just had to have it."

"He's going to be a good dad. Give him a break. I can't believe he built this thing by himself."

"Jake helped him," you told her.

"Jake helped a tiny bit," Bradley announced, and you turned to look at him with a little smile. "You know what would be fun?"

"Hmm?" you hummed, and your parents both turned to look at him.

"We could put strings of lights on the playset."

"That's a great idea, Roo!" The three of you were immediately discussing whether the lights should be white or colorful, and you were clapping your hands in excitement. Having your parents out for a California Christmas, especially with the Nugget coming soon, just felt right. The tree he picked out already looked better covered in your ornaments, and your dad was going to help him knock some of his projects off his to-do list.

He didn't feel awkward in his own skin like he did on occasion when he missed his mom so much it hurt. She would have loved every second of your pregnancy. She would have been on the phone every night, bugging the hell out of him, but Bradley would do anything to have her back. When you slipped your hand into his, he pulled you closer and said, "I'm happy your parents are here."

You kissed him right in front of them and wrapped your hand around the back of his neck. He vaguely heard your parents say they were going to head up to bed and to have a good night which was convenient, because after everything that happened today, he was ready to be alone with you.

"Come on," he whispered when you broke the kiss. "I want to snuggle with you and Rosie." He called Tramp inside, and you led him toward the bedroom with your hand held loosely in his. But you didn't head for the bathroom or climb into bed. Instead you pulled his shirt off and tugged down his gym shorts and underwear before pointing to the bed.

"Have a seat," you told him, his cock shamelessly responding to you, already bobbing excitedly in anticipation of what was to come. Wordlessly, he took a seat at the edge of the bed and watched you pull your shirt over your belly and all the way off. His lips and hands were on your bump, and when you pulled your sports bra over your head, his mouth found your breasts.

"I've got a little treat for you, Roo," you told him, brushing your fingers through his hair as he pulled your nipple between his lips. You moaned softly and added, "For being the best husband earlier and chasing down the man I accidentally texted dirty pictures to."

He grunted and grinned as he let your nipple pop free. "This is all mine," he said as he gestured at your body, and you nodded vigorously.

"Absolutely." When you took a step toward your nightstand, he whined softly, but when you returned to him with a small bottle of lube in your hand, his eyes lit up.

"What are you doing, Baby Girl?" His voice sounded excited even to his own ears, and he had to reach down to stroke himself as you drizzled the clear lube onto your own breasts before tossing the bottle aside. "What are you gonna let me do to you?"

He swallowed hard as you ran both of your hands slowly along your tits until they were glistening. "I'm going to do all the work," you told him. "Just relax." When you went to kneel in front of him, Bradley helped you get down with his hands on your biceps. And then you took his cock between your lips as your silky, slick fingers glided across his balls.

"Fuck," he sighed, enjoying the sight of your shiny breasts, and a second later his length was sandwiched beautifully between them. "Oh my god."

You smiled up at him as you squeezed your tits together until he was grunting loudly, and then you moved your body slowly up and down. He watched his own cock disappear between your breasts and then reappear over and over. He was mesmerized by the smooth glide and the immaculate view he had of your face and chest.

"Feel good?" you asked, and he nodded like an idiot as he ran his thumb along the perfect curve of your cheek. "You can touch me, Daddy."

"Oh hell." He let his thumb drift down to your nipple as you held him in place and fucked him with your tits until his balls were tight and his leg was shaking. You started kissing at his tip each time it was near your lips, and he had to grab at the bedding to keep himself in check.

After a few more slow movements, you reached for his hands and placed them where yours had been, on the outside of each breast. He squeezed himself in there tight as you said, "Go for it, Roo." Once you were holding onto his thighs to keep yourself steady, Bradley fucked your tits and played with your nipples until he was whining your name.

He knew the attic renovation had been a great idea, but he was surprised it was paying off so soon. Your body felt magical as he went a little faster, and then he was spurting his cum everywhere. Your chin, lips and chest were painted white with his seed, and it dripped down to your belly as your tongue darted out to taste him.

"Holy shit," he panted, looking everywhere for his phone. "I need a picture of this."

You reached into the pocket of his shorts which were on the floor and handed it to him. He took pictures of the pretty mess he made, including one where you were rubbing his cum along your skin. The swell of your belly was beautiful with his baby inside, and Bradley moaned as you licked the bead of cum from the tip of his cock.

"You ready to snuggle?" you asked him, turning to kiss the inside of his thigh.

"Yeah." He really felt like he had it all.

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

In the days leading up to Christmas, Bradley and your dad managed to get the furniture built for the nursery with time to spare. "Can you pick a paint color, Sweetheart?" Bradley asked you on the twenty-third, holding up your final two favorites. "Your dad and I can probably get the room painted tomorrow if we go to the store today."

You looked back and forth between the sky blue sample and the rosy pink sample. "I love them both," you whispered, chewing on the tip of your thumb, indecision washing over you.

Bradley turned them around to look at them and seemed to have the same issue. "I have an idea. Will you let me make the decision?"

"Absolutely," you sighed, pleased that you didn't have to pull that trigger. "Whatever you want."

They sent you out for lunch with your mom and Nat on Christmas eve, which actually turned into a stop at the mall with all of the last minute shoppers. You didn't need to buy anything else, but you helped Nat pick out a few things, and your mom seemed amused.

When you got home, all of the windows were open because the house smelled like paint, and your dad and Bradley were assembling something on the living room floor that you didn't know had even been purchased. "What's that?" you asked, eyeing your husband who couldn't seem to help but go overboard. "Bradley, I thought I put a cap on your spending for the baby!"

"It's from us," your parents said in unison.

"Oh."

"Oh," Bradley said, jokingly mimicking your voice. "I told you I was going to behave, and I have been behaving."

You leaned down and kissed the top of his head. "It is a chair?"

"Merry Christmas," your mom said. "It's a glider chair for the nursery. It'll be easier to feed her next to her crib so you can put her right back in bed when she's done. Not that my granddaughter will be anything but the sweetest little girl and most amazing sleeper."

Your eyes welled with tears as you hugged her. "Thanks for the overpriced chair. I love it."

Bradley stood with a soft grunt and reached for your hand. "If the smell isn't bothering you too much, can I show you the paint?"

"Yes," you said, wiping your eyes on his undershirt. You were suddenly so overwhelmed by how your parents came out for the holiday, but more than anything they were helping you get things ready for the next stage of life. Bradley led you down the hallway to the closed door and turned the knob. When he flicked the light on, you gasped. Three walls were blue, and the fourth wall was the dusty rose color you liked so much.

"I was thinking we could get the cloud decals for the blue walls and make the rosy wall look like a sunset," he said softly. "That could be pretty, right?"

You were fully crying now as you hugged him. "I think that sounds beautiful."

He kissed you as his hand settled on the sweet spot on your belly where he could usually feel a kick. "I just want my girls happy."

"We're happy with you."

The two of you spent a few minutes looking at the crib and the new dresser and the changing table. The bedding still needed to be washed, but it was folded on top of the dresser, and you ran your hand along the pastel airplanes and clouds. "I can't wait to meet her."

Bradley held you close and said, "I hope she's just like you."

When you finally walked back out to the kitchen, you were still swiping at your tears. Your mom was putting together some simple finger foods for Christmas Eve dinner, and your dad was putting the finishing touches on the new chair. There were Christmas carols playing softly through your wireless speaker, and you just didn't think the tears were going to stop.

You turned to your husband and quietly sobbed, "I wish your parents were here. I think about them so much, and I hate that I never got to meet either one of them."

"Shhh. Don't cry, Sweetheart," he crooned pulling you to his chest again. "I don't want you to cry." He was quiet for a moment as you looked at the tree, your tears turning the lights into a streaky mess. "My mom would have loved you. And she would have been over the moon for the baby. Just like your parents are. I know it's not fair. I think about it every fucking day, but I don't want you to cry when we still have so much."

You clung to him a little tighter as Rosie did a somersault. "You're right."

Your parents didn't seem concerned when Bradley held you a while longer. Then the four of you ate dinner, and you dipped literally everything into your favorite hot sauce. Then you brought the presents out from their hiding spot in the bathroom closet and set them under the tree while Bradley cleaned up the kitchen. Your mom and dad were already fast asleep by the time you climbed into bed and yawned.

"Can I read to you from the Nugget Notebook?" Bradley asked as he pulled the covers back on his side and got in as well.

"Of course," you whispered, tossing your glasses on your nightstand and snuggling up next to him.

He cleared his throat and you drifted off to sleep to the sound of his voice. "Hey, Rosie. Your mom is so funny. She thinks I've been buying you an exorbitant amount of stuff. She's completely correct. I have been. But you know who's even worse than me? Your grandparents."

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

Bradley never let his expectations get ahead of himself on holidays. He spent two decades mostly on his own, doing very little celebrating. But that was before you. By seven o'clock in the morning, you were yanking him out of bed. When he tried to reach for your belly to say good morning, you swatted his hands away and gave him a quick kiss. "Rosie says Merry Christmas. Now let's get up."

"Jesus," he grunted. "What's the rush, Sweetheart?"

You kissed him again and said, "I promised your cousin Brenda we would FaceTime with her, and it's already late in Virginia."

He just stared at you. Somehow you always remembered everything and everyone. He knew you sent cards to his family members, and he knew Brenda would appreciate talking to the two of you. "You're the sweetest thing," he said as he climbed out of bed.��

He pulled on his gray sweatpants before following you out of the bedroom. Your parents were already up wearing their matching pajamas, and the whole house smelled like cinnamon rolls and coffee. "Merry Christmas," your mom greeted, giving him a kiss on the cheek, and Bradley did a double take when he saw the tree. There were at least twice as many presents there now as when he went to bed.

"What's this?" he asked. "It actually looks like Santa came."

"Oh, we just brought a few things with us," your mom said. "Things for Rose. And some treats for Tramp."

"Jesus," he muttered as you handed him the iPad. "The baby isn't even here yet, and they just keep getting worse."

You nodded as you dialed Brenda's number, and when she answered, you asked how she was and showed off your bump before handing the call over to Bradley to have a few minutes alone with his mom's favorite cousin. Then he ate six cinnamon rolls and gave himself a stomach ache before it was time to open the enormous pile of presents.

There were onesies and pacifiers and bibs. Toys and a crib mobile that matched the bedding. Bottles and diapers and teething rings and little floral bath towels. Bradley was completely overwhelmed, and he kind of felt terrible when he handed your parents the set of cutting boards and the laser level you and he picked out for them.

"This is for you." He looked up as you held out a box with a smile on your face. "Well, it's for you and for Rosie."

Bradley's heart skipped a beat as you and your parents watched him unwrap a box, and when he pulled the lid off, his face broke out into a huge smile. You and he had matching shirts, and now he'd be able to match with his Nugget, too. "I love it," he said softly, holding up a large shirt and a very small one. The pink floral design was the same color as the bedroom wall he'd just painted yesterday, and the fabric was very soft. "Thank you, Sweetheart."

He kissed you and handed you the tiny box he had tucked back behind all the others. He felt a little nervous giving it to you with your parents here, but it didn't really matter. They would see it eventually anyway. When you opened the little jewelry box and met his eyes, you said, "Help me put it on." He leaned in closer and unclasped your necklace chain. You wore the airplane charm and the little dog tag that said Baby Girl every day, and now you'd have another one with them. "It's absolutely perfect," you whispered as you slid the gold rose onto the chain.

"Just like my girls," he promised. "When she's old enough, I'll buy one for her, too, so you can match."

"I love you." You mashed your lips against his as you crawled to his lap, and Bradley didn't stop your parents from making a detour to the kitchen to start prepping for dinner.

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

After Christmas dinner, the four of you drove around in the red Bronco to look at lights. You made a quick trip to drop off presents for Jeremiah, and then you and Bradley stopped by to say goodbye to Bob. He looked like he was glued to Maria, so you took that as a good sign.

"I'll never get over the palm trees covered in lights," your mom remarked from the backseat while Christmas music played on the radio.

You played with your new necklace charm as you said, "I think there are a lot of things here that will always look weird to us."

"We're hardy east coast people," Bradley murmured as he turned back onto your street. "Look, they decorated a cactus," he said in disgust, and you started laughing.

"Is that house for sale?" your dad asked, pointing out the window. "It's hard to tell in the dark."

"Yeah," Bradley replied. "It's been on the market for a few weeks. It looks like it needs a lot of work."

"The last thing we need is a fixer upper," your mom told your dad, and your heart beat a little faster.

"Dad, are you going to retire?" you asked, too afraid to even ask the more pertinent question on your mind as you played with Bradley's fingers on your lap.

"It's within the realm of possibilities," your dad replied. "Your mom wants to move a little closer to the two of you."

"Three!" she said. "Rose will be here before we know it!"

"The three of you," your dad corrected.

This wasn't the first time this topic had been discussed, but you didn't want to get your hopes up. "Are you still thinking California?"

You dad laughed. "Your mom is obsessed with the Coronado housing market."

"Obsessed is a strong word," she said, and you gave Bradley's hand a little squeeze.

"Tell me we just finished the attic for nothing," your husband mumbled as your parents argued in the backseat, but you just leaned in and kissed him.

"Aww, come on, Roo. Rosie can make one of those rooms her bedroom in a few years," you told him. "You know, so there's separation."

He grunted in approval, and then your dad asked, "Could you leave the car keys out for us to drive around a bit in the morning before you take us to the airport? The two of you can sleep in while we check out the area a little bit more."

"Absolutely," you told him as Bradley pulled back into the driveway of your cute Craftsman with all the extra bedrooms and the strings of lights around the windows. Your parents climbed out of the back, but you tugged on Bradley's hand to keep him in place. "Can I have another one of my million orgasms while they're driving around tomorrow morning?"

He ran his rough thumb along your cheek and kissed you. "My Baby Girl can have absolutely anything she fucking wants."

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

Roo gives the best gifts. The nursery is virtually finished and so is the playset. Now we wait for the Nugget to finish cooking. A shower and a babymoon and trouble are on the way soon. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 9

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rootedinrevisions · 3 months ago

Text

In My Heart is a Christmas Tree Farm

SUMMARY: It’s the first Christmas together for you and Tyler, and after moving into his farmhouse, you’re excited to start new traditions with him—like picking out the perfect tree. But what starts as a charming trip to the Christmas Tree Farm quickly turns into a hilarious and heartwarming adventure, from getting the tree home to figuring out how to fit it through the front door. As the holiday chaos unfolds, the two of you share quiet moments decorating the tree, with laughter, playful banter, and unspoken love filling the air.

A/N: This is the first of a few holiday fics that I have planned or in the works! Please let me know what you guys think with hearts, reblogs, and comments! I love getting feedback from you guys!

WARNINGS: None. Just fluff.

WORD COUNT: 4.4k

The truck rumbled to a stop on the gravel drive of the Christmas tree farm, the engine cutting out with a low growl. You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips as you looked out at the rows of evergreens stretching into the horizon. This was your first Christmas living with Tyler, and picking out a real tree together felt like the start of something special—a new tradition, just the two of you.

The crisp December air hit you as soon as you stepped out of the truck, making you pull your coat a little tighter around yourself. The smell of pine was already thick in the air, and your boots crunched softly against the ground as you moved closer to the truck bed.

Tyler slid out of the driver’s seat with an easy grace, tugging the brim of his cap a little lower against the cold. His Carhartt jacket hugged his frame, the earthy tan color a perfect match for his ruggedness. He turned toward you, a teasing glint in his eye, and for a moment, you couldn’t help but admire him. He just had that effortless charm about him—completely unbothered and completely Tyler.

“So,” he drawled, his breath visible in the chilly air as he closed the truck door behind him. “Have you decided what kinda tree you’re lookin’ for yet, darlin’?”

You grinned, tucking your hands into your coat pockets. “Something big and full. You know, a real showstopper.”

Tyler raised an eyebrow, clearly already bracing himself for what this would mean for his part of the job.

“Figures. You’d pick somethin’ that makes me work for it.” His grin softened the words, though, and you nudged his arm as the two of you started walking toward the trees.

The farm was lively with families and couples all bundled up, laughter and chatter floating through the brisk air. The two of you wandered along the rows of trees, the crunch of your boots and the faint sound of Christmas music playing over the farm’s speakers filling the silence.

Tyler stopped in front of a smaller tree, one that barely came up to his shoulder. He gestured toward it with a tilt of his head. “What about this one? Nice and easy to haul back.”

You gave him a flat look, one hand resting on your hip. “That’s not even a Christmas tree; it’s a glorified shrub.”

You wandered a little further ahead, scanning the trees until your eyes landed on one that seemed perfect. It was tall and full, its dark green needles catching the faint sunlight peeking through the clouds. You pointed at it with excitement. “What about that one?”

Tyler followed your gaze and tilted his head, his lips twisting as he studied it. “Hmm.”

“‘Hmm?’” you echoed, crossing your arms.

“It’s a little…” He paused, searching for the right word. “Lopsided. Look at that lean.”

You squinted at the tree, trying to see what he saw. Sure, it wasn’t perfectly symmetrical, but there was something charming about its imperfection.

“It gives it character,” you argued, planting your hands on your hips.

“Character, huh?” Tyler smirked, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “Alright, sweetheart. But don’t say I didn’t warn ya when that ‘character’ makes it fall over in the living room.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up. This was exactly what you’d imagined when you thought about this day—playful bickering, shared smiles, and the simple joy of doing something together.

Tyler tilted his head, studying the tree with that same skeptical expression. You could tell he wasn’t sold, but you didn’t care. There was something about this one—it wasn’t perfect, but it was yours. You couldn’t help but smile as you looked at it, already picturing it in the corner of your living room, lit up with strings of warm white lights and covered in ornaments you’d carefully unpacked together.

When you glanced back at Tyler, he was already watching you. His green eyes softened as he took in the look on your face, the way you were gazing at the tree like it was the only one on the entire farm. He let out a long-suffering sigh, one that was more for show than anything else, and shook his head with a small smile.

“This the one you really want?” he asked, his voice quieter now, his tone gentler.

You nodded eagerly. “This is the one.”

He held your gaze for a beat longer, his expression softening even more. “Alright, sweetheart. Whatever you want.”

Before you could even respond, Tyler squatted down by the base of the tree and pulled out the hand saw he’d brought along. He glanced back at you with a teasing smirk as he gripped the saw handle.

“You better not make me do this every year, though. Gonna end up with sawdust in places sawdust shouldn’t be.”

You laughed, crossing your arms as you watched him start sawing through the trunk with practiced movements. “Oh, come on. You’re just showing off now.”

“Damn right,�� he shot back, his voice a little strained from the effort. “Gotta prove I’m still worth keepin’ around.”

The sight of him—focused, rugged, and doing this for you—made your heart squeeze in your chest. He worked efficiently, the blade gliding back and forth through the trunk as tiny flecks of wood started to fall onto the frosty ground. After a few minutes, there was a satisfying crack, and the tree shifted slightly.

Tyler straightened up, brushing sawdust off his jeans before turning to you with a grin. “Alright, darlin’. Now comes the fun part—haulin’ this thing back to the truck without pokin’ an eye out.”

As Tyler dusted off his hands, you moved to grab the tree, wanting to help. Before you could get a proper grip, he reached out, stopping you with a firm hand on your wrist.

“Oh, no, sweetheart,” he said, shaking his head with a smirk. “I’m not lettin’ you carry this thing. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Tyler, it’s not that heavy,” you argued, but he was already crouching down, grabbing hold of the trunk with one hand and lifting it with surprising ease.

“You just stay right there and admire the view,” he teased, glancing over his shoulder at you with a wink before he began dragging the tree toward the front of the farm. The tree scraped along the ground, leaving a trail in the thin layer of frost, and you couldn’t help but laugh as the branches caught on a few tufts of grass.

A little ways ahead, you spotted a wooden wagon parked near the rows of trees—a small, rustic cart clearly meant to help customers haul their finds.

You pointed to it, your eyes lighting up. “Look, there’s a wagon we can use!”

Tyler stopped in his tracks, turning to glance at the cart before shooting you a look that was equal parts amused and stubborn. “A wagon? Darlin’, I don’t need a wagon. I’ve got this.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you watched him reposition his grip on the tree like he was about to hoist it up. Before he could, you were already walking off toward the cart.

“Where’re you goin’?” he called after you, the exasperation in his voice tinged with humor.

“Getting the wagon,” you called back without turning around.

When you returned, rolling the cart behind you with a triumphant smile, Tyler sighed, shaking his head like you’d just gone and complicated things for no reason.

“I told you I could carry it,” he muttered, but there was no real bite to his words.

“Uh-huh,” you replied, grinning as you gestured toward the wagon. “But why carry it when you can make your life easier?”

He muttered something under his breath—something about being perfectly capable—but he bent down and lifted the tree anyway, settling it into the wagon with a huff. You gave him a pleased smile, your hands on your hips like you’d just solved the world’s biggest problem.

Tyler shook his head again, a small grin tugging at his lips as he grabbed the wagon handle. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he teased, his tone warm and playful.

“Lucky?” you echoed, falling into step beside him. “I just saved you from throwing your back out.”

“Darlin’, I think I’ve got a few good years left before that happens.” He shot you a sidelong glance as he started pulling the wagon, his free hand reaching for yours. The roughness of his palm was a stark contrast to the cool metal of the wagon handle in his other hand, and you couldn’t help but squeeze his hand as your fingers laced together.

The two of you walked hand in hand toward the gate, the tree wobbling slightly in the wagon behind you. The crisp air smelled faintly of pine and woodsmoke, and the sound of distant laughter from other families echoed through the farm. It felt perfect.

The two of you reached the payment booth near the front of the farm, where a cheerful older man in a Santa hat rang you up. Tyler handed over the cash, adding a quick “Merry Christmas” as the man nodded and tipped his hat.

Tree secured for the season, you made your way back to Tyler’s truck, the wagon wheels crunching softly over the frosted ground. The cold seemed sharper now, nipping at your face and hands, and you pulled your coat tighter as you walked.

Tyler parked the wagon near the tailgate and looked over at you, tilting his head toward the cab of the truck. “Alright, darlin’, hop in and start warmin’ up. I’ll handle the rest.”

You shook your head with a determined smile. “I’m not letting you do this alone. It’s our tree, after all.”

Tyler huffed, planting his hands on his hips as he gave you a pointed look. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” But he didn’t argue further, instead moving to lift the tree out of the wagon.

As he hefted the trunk up toward the bed of the truck, the tree wobbled slightly, its uneven weight threatening to throw off his balance.

“Lopsided thing,” he muttered under his breath, as if to prove his earlier point.

You quickly stepped in, grabbing the top of the tree to steady it. “I’ve got it!” you said, keeping the branches from tilting too far.

Tyler glanced back at you, a flicker of exasperation in his eyes. “I had it,” he drawled, but there was a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Uh-huh,” you replied cheekily. “And now we’ve both got it.”

Together, you guided the tree into the truck bed, the branches brushing against the sides before settling into place. Tyler stepped back to inspect it, nodding to himself before turning to the backseat of the truck and grabbing a length of rope.

As he began tying down one end of the tree, he glanced over his shoulder. “Now will you get in the truck and warm up, sweetheart?”

You ignored him, instead grabbing the other end of the rope. “I’ll help you tie it down. Two sets of hands are faster than one.”

Tyler let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he worked on securing the trunk. “You’re about the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met, you know that?”

“And you love it,” you quipped, looping the rope around the branches with practiced ease.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said with a grin, pulling his end taut before tying it off with a secure knot. “But don’t think I didn’t see you shiverin’ just now. Soon as this is done, you’re gettin’ in that truck, no arguments..”

“Deal,” you replied, stepping back to admire your work as Tyler gave the ropes one final tug.

With the tree finally secured, Tyler tossed the remaining rope into the truck bed and turned to you, brushing a stray pine needle from your coat. “There. Now, let’s get you warmed up before you turn into an icicle.”

He reached for your hand again, his calloused fingers warm against your cold ones, and led you to the passenger side of the truck. As you climbed in, the cab was already beginning to fill with heat, and the faint smell of pine lingered in the air.

The drive back to the farmhouse was quiet and peaceful, the radio softly playing Christmas tunes as you rested your head against the window. The familiar gravel crunch of Tyler’s driveway made you smile. Moving into his farmhouse had felt so natural—like the two of you had carved out your own little piece of the world, just far enough from town to feel like your own private retreat.

As Tyler parked the truck, he hopped out with his usual energy, leaving you to grab your coat and follow. By the time you rounded the back of the truck, he had already unhooked the ropes and was hauling the tree out of the bed with a grunt.

“You good?” you asked, stifling a laugh as he adjusted his grip.

“’Course I’m good,” he replied, shifting the weight of the tree onto one shoulder like it was nothing. “This ain’t my first rodeo, darlin’.”

You trailed after him, arms crossed, as he approached the front porch. The air smelled like fresh pine now from the tree and the crisp bite of winter, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement at the thought of decorating the tree together later.

That excitement only grew as Tyler maneuvered the tree toward the door—until he reached the threshold and froze.

“Uh…” he muttered, tilting his head as he eyed the doorway.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, a knowing smirk creeping onto your face.

“It’s fine,” he said quickly, attempting to angle the tree to fit through the frame. The branches scraped against the sides of the door, and needles started raining down in a messy trail.

“You sure about that?” you teased, leaning against the porch railing.

Tyler grunted, twisting the trunk this way and that. “Just…gotta…angle it…a little more…”

The tree, stubborn as ever, refused to cooperate. Instead, it wedged itself firmly in the doorway, the bottom half stuck outside while the top half was inside.

“Well,” you said, your voice laced with amusement, “this is going great.”

“Don’t start,” Tyler muttered under his breath, taking a step back to assess the situation. His hands planted on his hips, and he let out a frustrated sigh.

“Need some help?” you offered sweetly, already knowing what his answer would be.

“Nope. I’ve got it,” he insisted, stepping forward to try again. This time, he gave the tree a solid shove, which only made it stick tighter.

Needles flew everywhere, a few landing in his hair and on his jacket. You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing.

He turned to you, his exasperated expression tinged with reluctant humor. “Glad you’re enjoyin’ yourself over there.”

“Immensely,” you replied with a grin.

Finally, Tyler threw his hands up in defeat and looked at you. “Alright, fine. I could use an extra set of hands. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” you said, stepping forward. As you grabbed the top of the tree to help guide it, you couldn’t resist adding, “I thought you didn’t need my help?”

He shot you a look but didn’t respond, instead focusing on angling the tree just right. Together, the two of you managed to wiggle it free, and with one last push, it finally made it through the doorway.

Once inside, Tyler carried the tree to the living room, pausing in the center. “Alright, darlin’. Where do you want it?”

You pointed to a cozy corner by the front window, already imagining how the lights would glow against the glass at night. “Over there.”

Tyler raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think it’d look better on this side?” He gestured to the opposite corner.

You narrowed your eyes at him, and he held your gaze for a long moment before sighing. “Yeah, alright. Your spot it is.”

“You’re learning,” you teased, patting his arm as he set the tree down in your chosen spot.

With the tree finally in place, Tyler brushed his hands off on his jeans and gave you a lopsided grin. “You’re lucky you’re cute, sweetheart.”

“And don’t you forget it,” you quipped, stepping back to admire the tree in its new home.

With the tree finally in place, you stepped back, hands on your hips, and admired it—or at least tried to. Something about the spot you had chosen didn’t sit right anymore. It didn’t look as magical as you’d imagined. You tilted your head, your eyes drifting toward the corner Tyler had suggested earlier.

You stood there, picturing the tree nestled in that spot instead. The idea started to grow on you. The light from the front window would catch the ornaments perfectly, and it wouldn’t feel so cramped against the wall.

“Alright,” Tyler said, brushing his hands on his jeans. “Tree’s up, and it’s right where you wanted it. You happy now, sweetheart?”

You didn’t answer right away, still staring at the other corner with a pensive expression.

“Uh-oh,” Tyler muttered, catching the look on your face. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated, then glanced at him sheepishly. “I don’t like it here.”

Tyler blinked at you, incredulous. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not,” you said, biting your lip to keep from smiling. “I think…it would look better over there.” You pointed to the corner he had suggested earlier, the one you’d dismissed outright.

Tyler tilted his head back and let out a dramatic groan, rubbing a hand over his face. “You mean the spot I told you it should go in from the start?”

“Well,” you said with a shrug, trying to suppress a laugh, “you might’ve had a point.”

He stared at you for a long moment, then shook his head, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “unbelievable.”

“Tyler,” you said sweetly, clasping your hands together, “please?”

“Darlin’, you’re lucky I like you,” he said, shooting you a playful glare before walking over to the tree. “You’re gonna owe me for this one.”

“Oh, definitely,” you teased, watching as he bent down to grip the trunk.

With a huff, he hoisted the tree off the ground and carried it across the room, muttering something about “indecisive women” as needles scattered everywhere again. You couldn’t help but grin, enjoying the show.

Once he’d set the tree down in its new spot, he straightened up and planted his hands on his hips, looking at you expectantly. “There. Happy now?”

You took a step back, tilting your head as you studied it. The glow from the window hit the branches just right, and you smiled. “Perfect.”

“Perfect, huh?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Glad we could get it right on the second try.”

“Third time’s the charm if you count the doorway,” you quipped, earning yourself a look.

Tyler stepped closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you against him. “If you change your mind again, I’m puttin’ it outside,” he warned, but the smirk on his face told you he was kidding.

You grinned, leaning into him. “Don’t worry, it’s staying right there.”

“For your sake, I hope so,” he said, dropping a quick kiss to the top of your head before glancing down at the floor. “Now, how about you grab the broom while I start cleaning up this forest you had me drag inside?”

The chaos of getting the tree inside was finally behind you, and the living room had settled into a warm, quiet calm. The scent of pine filled the air, mingling with the faint notes of cinnamon from the candle you’d lit on the coffee table. You fiddled with the Bluetooth speaker, scrolling through your playlist until the opening notes of a soft Christmas song floated through the room.

“Alright,” you said with a grin, turning to Tyler, “time to make this tree look like it belongs in one of those Christmas magazines.”

Tyler chuckled from where he stood by the boxes of ornaments. “As long as it doesn’t involve more rearranging, I’m game.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled as you grabbed the string of lights and began weaving them around the tree. Tyler joined you, holding up branches and handing you more lights as needed. Every now and then, his fingers brushed against yours, and you felt his warmth even through the chill lingering on your hands from being outside.

Once the lights were set, you pulled out the tinsel. The silver strands glinted in the soft glow of the bulbs, and you began to toss handfuls of it onto the branches. Tyler, ever the perfectionist, stepped in behind you, adjusting a few pieces and earning a playful glare from you.

“Hey, it’s supposed to look natural,” you teased, tossing a strand in his direction.

“Yeah? Pretty sure ‘natural’ doesn’t mean ‘thrown like confetti,’” he quipped back, laughing when you stuck your tongue out at him.

Then came the ornaments. You opened the first box, pulling out a mix of baubles, snowflakes, and sentimental pieces collected over the years. You cradled a delicate glass ornament shaped like a snowman, humming along to the music as you walked around the tree, searching for the perfect branch.

“Hmm,” you murmured to yourself, holding the ornament up and tilting your head. “Too low. Too high. Maybe…”

You trailed off, still lost in thought as you tested a few spots. The sound of Tyler’s soft laugh caught your attention, and you turned to see him leaning against the arm of the couch, watching you with a lovestruck smile.

“What?” you asked, your voice light with curiosity as you clutched the snowman ornament to your chest.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “Just… you’re cute when you’re trying to decide something.”

You felt your cheeks warm under his gaze, and you smiled, trying to play it cool. “You’re just saying that.”

He pushed off the couch and walked over to you, taking the ornament gently from your hand. “I’m saying it because it’s true,” he said, his voice soft as he reached up and placed the snowman on a branch that was, admittedly, a perfect spot.

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, admiring the tree. The glow of the lights reflected in his eyes, and the soft music wrapped around you like a blanket.

“You gonna keep staring at me, or are you gonna help me finish this tree?” you teased, breaking the quiet moment.

Tyler chuckled, pulling another ornament from the box. “Well, if I’m not mistaken, someone here’s already got the whole magazine-worthy vision in their head. So I’m just following orders, sweetheart.”

You grinned, grabbing another ornament as you started swaying to the music. Without even thinking, you began humming along, your movements light and carefree. Tyler glanced over, his smirk softening into that same adoring smile as he watched you.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna start dancing now,” he said, his tone teasing but warm.

“Why not?” you shot back, twirling once before holding up another ornament. “It’s Christmas, Tyler. You’ve got to feel the spirit!”

He shook his head, a chuckle rumbling from his chest as he reached for another ornament. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

“Yeah,” you said, giving him a playful wink as you placed a bright red bauble on the tree. “But you love it.”

“That I do,” he murmured under his breath, but loud enough for you to hear, making your heart flutter as the two of you continued decorating your first Christmas tree together.

The room was warm, filled with the soft glow of the Christmas lights, and the tree—finally perfect—stood proudly in the corner of the living room. Its needles shimmered in the light, the tinsel sparkling and the ornaments dancing slightly with the hum of the air. You took a step back, your eyes gliding over the branches, taking in every detail with a content smile on your face.

Tyler, standing beside you, couldn’t help but mirror your expression. He gave the tree a satisfied glance before turning his attention to you, his lips curling into that quiet, affectionate smile he reserved for moments like this.

“It turned out good, didn’t it?” you murmured, still looking at the tree, but feeling his gaze on you now.

“Perfect,” Tyler agreed softly, his voice low and warm as he stepped closer to you. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. You leaned into him, your head resting against his solid frame as he kissed your cheek tenderly, a soft brush of his lips that made you feel safe and cherished.

He didn’t pull away right away. Instead, Tyler rested his chin on your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin as you both stood there, quietly admiring the work you’d done together.

There was a peacefulness in the moment, one that felt like it stretched on forever, the world outside slowing to a halt. Just the two of you, wrapped in the intimacy of this new beginning—the first Christmas together, the first tree.

For a long beat, neither of you said anything. You didn’t need to.

“I can’t believe this is our first Christmas here,” you whispered, a quiet amazement in your voice.

Tyler chuckled softly. “Well, I’m not complainin’,” he said, his voice still carrying that warmth, the sincerity of someone who didn’t need anything more than this. “I’d say this is about as perfect as it gets.”

You turned your face slightly, just enough to meet his eyes, and there, in the gentle glow of the lights, you could see it—how much he truly meant it. How much he meant to you.

“Me too,” you replied, your voice thick with the weight of your feelings.

Tyler’s hands tightened around you, pulling you closer as he rested his forehead against yours, your hearts beating in the same steady rhythm.

The tree sparkled behind you, the ornaments glimmering in the soft light. But in that moment, you knew nothing would ever be as perfect as this—Tyler’s arms around you, the love between you both, and the feeling of belonging you’d found in each other.

“Happy Christmas, sweetheart,” he murmured, his breath warm against your lips.

“Happy Christmas,” you echoed, your heart full as you let the moment carry you both into the quiet night.

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