#How To Save Marriage After Infidelity

[edensrose]

꒰ ݁ ꫂ᭪ ꒱ 𓂃 The Scarlet String

˚₊‧꒰ა samurai.ᐟsuguru geto ﾉ empress.ᐟreader ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

geto suguru, the imperial palace's head samurai, was a man of honour & no earthly attachment. but when he met you, the new bride of the emperor who didn't deserve you, suddenly attachment tethered in the form of a scarlet string. his soul to yours, but your heart never his. this could earn him the death penalty, but for you he'd suffer a thousand blades.

broadcast ᝰ.ᐟ✧ ancient japan, arranged marriage, mistreatment (from reader's husband), infidelity, historical sexism, mutual pining, forbidden love, star-crossed lovers, angst, mentions of sex 𓂃 wc ⌇ 3.5k

sweetheart host ᝰ.ᐟ✧ ahhhh omg samurai suguru save meee. art cred ⌇ anzhisu 667

˖ 𑣲 samurai geto suguru ᝰ.ᐟ✧ was a respected man of his land. having risen through the ranks after much trial and tribulation. when he walked, people bowed their heads, when he spoke, others lowered their gazes. such reputation landed him a spot as the head of samurai at the imperial's division. that's where he met you.

˖ 𑣲 samurai geto suguru ᝰ.ᐟ✧ who heard the gossip. the new bride, is what they called you. he guarded the palace the morning of your wedding. he'd only heard rumours about the 'delicate flower' that the emperor had plucked. the 'sweetest rain to kiss the earth'. he paid no mind, a man of his stature hardly gave into worldly desires. that was until he saw you through the curtain of the hall he guarded. but a peek, but a moment and yet — in that second, any earthly whim he had long since detached tethered into one chord. a red string. pierced straight through his heart.

The sweetest rain? No, you were the sky after a storm. The caress of the sun through the heavens, painting the bleak clouds in your splendour.

A delicate flower indeed. With your petal hand in the palm of your soon-to-be husband. Smiling brighter than any chrysanthemum he'd laid eyes on.

Suguru held his breath through the officiation. Beauty, he had beheld beauty before. You? Beauty was but a teardrop in your ocean.

Teardrops. Never would Suguru imagine anyone could bear to make an angel cry.

But he was wrong.

˖ 𑣲 samurai geto suguru ᝰ.ᐟ✧ who quickly discovered not every hand knows how to hold a flower and care for her petals. as the head samurai he naturally stayed around the imperial palace for extended periods of times. a decision of duty yet he couldn't help but regret every second that led him to this point when he saw you weep. cry over a man who barely deserved to look at you let alone share a bedroom with. suguru watched with passive eyes smouldering coals. a dragon statue. still, but ever as fierce whenever you attempted kindness to your new husband. when you conducted your duties and searched for affection. only to receive harsh words. even a shove — as suguru came to hear. for if it were in front of him, he might have committed great acts of treason that day.

˖ 𑣲 samurai geto suguru ᝰ.ᐟ✧ who realised you were far gentler than he initially assumed. you were young, full of life, untouched by the rough flames of this world. he'd noticed it more once rumours of war stirred over the land and the emperor stationed him at his beck and call. terrified of his own hubris and decisions? maybe. suguru could only roll his eyes at the emperor behind his back, but at the very least he got to be closer to you.

˖ 𑣲 samurai geto suguru ᝰ.ᐟ✧ who started learning your routines. for your safety, of course. he discovered you preferred the gardens in the dead of night rather than the glimmers of the morning. realised you ate once for breakfast then again for dinner. during lunch you strolled and attended to whatever duty you could put your hand in. which included the more trivial matters of your servants who attempted to shoo you. only for you to drop to your knees, beside a riverbed no less! why? to help them with clothes, of course. suguru beheld it all. your mannerisms, your habits, the kind heart he wished to hold in his hands. but what shattered him the most? the interactions with your husband. the pig that didn't deserve you.

˖ 𑣲 samurai geto suguru ᝰ.ᐟ✧ who rarely spoke even as he escorted you around. your gaze would sometimes drift to him, but you'd either be graced with violet eyes staring right back, or none at all. his expressions forever threw you off. even in his casual attire, there was an air of intimidation and authority. he'd noticed your attempts at conversation, he found it adorable. bless your tender soul — but he is merely a servant. a loyal devotee to his nation and the imperial palace. if you looked at him as a block of stone and steel rather than anything breathing, so be it. as long as he could stay close to you.

"You're very quiet."

Sunlight gleamed through the midnight. Such phenomena was only possible with your eyes, your smile, your voice blossoming into the cool air.

Kneeling again, this time at your flowerbeds. Chrysanthemum, tsubaki, ajisai, but the true floral splendour sat on her knees. With a smile to part the heavens and unweave every ounce of training and discipline Suguru had established.

At the foot of the garden he stood. A mighty zelkova tree rooted in his silence and still in the midnight breeze. Awoken only by your voice. You imagined his eyes raised, but Suguru's stare hadn't left you since your arrival.

"I understand if you are unable to speak." You smiled and turned back to blooms. "I just realised I've never heard your voice. Since I see you more than my husband these days, I thought it appropriate."

Your mouth caressed the word 'husband' softer. As if it were something to be revered. Or feared. Suguru couldn't pick his poison.

Unnecessary respect, that is what you gave Suguru. He is but your servant, and yet you refused to look at him. Beneath you, but you hold consideration.

You could demand he speak. Request he shout. Hell, snapped your finger and expected him to read your every wish quick, respond even quicker. But you smiled, assured, even sympathised.

In the heavy silence snowed over the garden, your nervousness fluttered like a frozen butterfly. Waiting for your wings to shatter. Whether by your own doing or the mouth that swore to protect you.

Instead, it mused.

"I was unaware my lady welcomed conversation."

Glimmers through the night, your gaze snapped to his face. Instead of stone or steel, softness greeted you. Stoic, yes, but who knew the frightful samurai lord could smile? Even if faint and solely curled at the corners.

"Well I —" and then you were stumbling. Pushing through gravity to will yourself up and fumbled over the grass in your excitement. "I assumed you were under some vow. Or something. I'm not too accustomed —"

Steel, however, manifested on your arm. No bite, no pain, steady and shielding. Your garden brimmed with all sorts of colours and varieties, but the shade of violet that stared down upon you was something you felt compelled to paint with.

"Easy." When Suguru spoke his baritone exceeded the night. He leaned over you once your stumbling form and froze you with his presence instead. Not the kind of ice that splintered. The kind that kissed, cradled.

"My only vow is to protect you, my lady." And then it was gone.

˖ 𑣲 samurai geto suguru ᝰ.ᐟ✧ began speaking with you after that incident. if his lady wished for conversation then he would give it to her. his presence felt more than protective nowadays, it was pleasant. so pleasant you often pouted whenever your husband arrived and relieved suguru of his duties for the nights. thanks the heavens you wedded an emperor, yes? always busy, never around, giving you plenty of time with your new friend.

˖ 𑣲 samurai geto suguru ᝰ.ᐟ✧ who kept conversation to a minimal. after all, you were still high above him and he knew his place in the soil. but like a persistent gardener you weeded through this stubbornness and pulled his voice like blooming blossoms. he conceded, of course. if it was your wish for a friend then that he could be. you needed one, after all. you deserved more than that. the palace, the lands, the earth and the heavens in suguru's opinion. alas, he is but a samurai and you are the empress. his gift to you will be his devotion. you learnt suguru had two loving parents who stayed snugly in his home village and a close friend of his rank that guarded the neighbouring land. in turn he learnt you adored the fine arts and humoured you.

˖ 𑣲 samurai geto suguru ᝰ.ᐟ✧ who summoned every ounce of strength and perseverance one sleepless night he ventured to the gardens to find peace and instead stirred strife in his ears. you were a married woman, of course he was well aware of your . . . 'duties'. if it were your voice he heard from your private quarters, he might have found some comfort. alas it was your filthy, borish husband. getting himself off by the sounds of it. your voice? imitation. suguru knew you adored the fine arts but he never assumed such acting skills.

˖ 𑣲 samurai geto suguru ᝰ.ᐟ✧ who felt more than envy tugging at his heart. the red string torn through his chest coiled tight. a woman of your stature, beauty and very being should be treated with more than respect. pleasured with such bliss that she'd sleep soundlessly through the night. it seemed the emperor not only failed to handle the land properly, but you as well. it was one thing to bumble like a fool and leave other officials needing to fill in for you — but the evident need for someone else to tend to your wife? if suguru could he'd whisk you away. show you what true bliss tastes like. if the emperor isn't careful he might have to — no.

Not these thoughts.

Not these desires.

You are not some object he can whisk around in the confines of his head.

You were beauty, grace, divinity. And even his mind will serve you as such. You are the deity and he your devotee. Your image won't be tainted by his own thoughts. While he could assure your pleasure, he would never initiate.

For it was by your choice. Your decision. Your rule.

˖ 𑣲 samurai geto suguru ᝰ.ᐟ✧ couldn't help the stares he held across hallways, patrols, ceremonies. whether with or without your husband. your eyes locked in the way the moon misses the sun. you always held on. a second longer, a moment more, then you'd turn. would he? never. he couldn't pry his eyes from you. especially with the faux, physical affection from the emperor. oh how your gaze would drift to his, catch his lowering to the hand on your waist, then back to your eyes. you took it for granted.

˖ 𑣲 samurai geto suguru ᝰ.ᐟ✧ who held his hand to help you out of carriages. who lingered his touch just a little longer. who extended his patrol hours to walk alongside you in the gardens. knelt down beside flowerbeds to aid your passion. who accidentally cornered you in a hallway when you stumbled over those clumsy feet only to be swiftly caught and spun against a wall with a quiet — "my lady, are you alright?"

˖ 𑣲 samurai geto suguru ᝰ.ᐟ✧ who looked to your opinion during meetings. while you were not allowed to speak, he often paid close attention to your opinion on certain topics and decisions; before voicing those himself. your husband was useless in ruling the lands in any case, so perhaps this is the heavens bestowing luck. that is if the bastard listened.

˖ 𑣲 samurai geto suguru ᝰ.ᐟ✧ stood at your side first and foremost. while he was sworn to protect the emperor, during official meetings and escorts, he was at your side. the emperor never paid it any mind. you were a woman, you needed more protection, right? little did the bastard know that if danger fell, so would he. suguru's katana would serve you. not the pig that cannot cherish you. treason? perhaps, but he had been clear to you on that night in the garden. whether you realised it or not. his only vow was to protect you.

˖ 𑣲 samurai geto suguru ᝰ.ᐟ✧ who learnt more about you as the months went by. grew closer in a way he knew threatened boundaries. but you let him. lingering touches, longing stares — you never expected to break down in his arms one fateful morning when the night was simply too much. he became a comfort you never knew possible. he would never shun you, deny you, any rejection would surely be foolish and go against his heart's code. morals? he knows their names. but you might just make him forget.

"I'm sorry." Quivered, wilted. A drooping chrysanthemum in his arms. Forlorn from the sun's scorches and overrun with your rains of tears. Angels should never weep, yet you sobbed. Lost in his strong embrace.

"I'm sorry, Geto. I shouldn't —" at the foot of your private chambers and yet in the arms of another man. Your attempt to withdraw fell short. Stilled by a large hand cupped behind your head.

Halted in your own carelessness, but brought to life by his touch. He stroked your scalp with tenderness tethered to his fingertips in those same scarlet strings.

"Why do you apologise?" Suguru murmured atop your head. In that moment, he became your sanctuary. No longer were you an empress, or a woman married off.

You were simply, you. A delicate flower he swore to never let wither. Not like this. Never.

Calloused hands cradled your face. To you it never felt softer. Suguru remained at a distance, even with your hearts intertwining. Never would he sully your image with him: a humble servant.

"Fall upon me in your time of need. I told you," his thumb brushed over your cheekbone. Imprinting his promise.

"My only vow is to you, my lady."

˖ 𑣲 samurai geto suguru ᝰ.ᐟ✧ who noticed your abrupt distance. had he crossed a line that morning? if you wished for him to turn you away, you should have said something. for all his strength, he is every definition of weakness when stood before you. suguru would never approach you on it, he couldn't. it was your decision to give attention and take it. even if he missed its soft kiss on his skin. even if he longed for the song of your voice to bless his ears. you barely spoke to him, barely even looked at him.

"Have I angered you, my lady?"

At last he asked. If you wished to strike him down for such treason then so be it. But your warmth was granted to him and then left him stranded, cold. Even in the tender spring.

"Never Geto — Suguru." His name on your mouth. It was a prayer, an apology, everything he wanted yet didn't deserve. Not from you, the only being high above him.

"I simply . . . think it's best to keep my distance. For our sake. Yours."

˖ 𑣲 samurai geto suguru ᝰ.ᐟ✧ who couldn't understand what you meant by that but held true even when it ruined him. especially with the new hovering of your husband. were the divine laughing at him? was every god in the heavens playing some cruel joke on him? if this red string is fate, then let them cut it. but who could suguru lie to? even if the gods themselves snapped the string he'd weave it back, tether every thread with his bare hands and hook himself back to you. you were an earthly desire he couldn't relinquish, and refused to. even when you seemed to wish for such. for once, he couldn't respect your decision. not when he saw how solemn you'd become. when he bore witness to your only amplified mistreatment.

˖ 𑣲 samurai geto suguru ᝰ.ᐟ✧ who proved his vow true. a storm took the palace in steel and fury. an unexpected siege at the hands of the enemy. rumours of war had become a reality and suguru acted in his duty. to the emperor? no. while he commanded his fleet and fought for the palace, tore down the opposition and guarded the imperial. . . you were his priority. word had gotten out that you were taken — and suguru couldn't care less about the palace when its princess was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is she?"

Steel flushed to an opponent's throat. Eyes ablaze. Jaw set sight. The man shook, but grinned.

"My, have you grown soft, Geto?"

Suguru angled his blade. Struck the shoulder. Dug deep and spoke low. Sharper than his katana.

"Answer me and I'll leave enough of you intact for jigoku to recognise. Where. Is. She?"

˖ 𑣲 samurai geto suguru ᝰ.ᐟ✧ who could only be described as feral. he dashed for the maple forest and found the group dragging you along. tossed into a sedan and pushed around like some prize. sullied by their hands. no matter. steel bit through the air followed by shattered screams. twenty three, highly trained and enough to spark fear in probably half of suguru's men — fell to his sword in a matter of second. scarlet painted maple trees more vibrantly. each hit the floor with any hands that dared to touch you dismantled, any eye that thought it worthy of looking upon you struck, shut, stabbed. until only two stood. the samurai with his heaves and his heavy blade, flicked to the side so red scattered the floor too. he wasted no time beholding the carnage before he stood before your cowered form on the ground and hoisted you up instantly. steadying your shaky self and terrified cries. you stilled when familiar violets met you. shock, then realisation — then horror.

"Have you lost your mind!?"

Your cry painted every leaf redder. "The palace is under siege! Go — return at once, protect —"

Hands steeled tight on your shoulders. Soaked in the same scarlet. Nothing in comparison to the string that shone through the bleary night. Shimmered, strung, secure. Between you. Him. Only now visible to your eye.

Rain soaked the land. Poured into the red and washed it from the leaves, the ground, his clothes — but not the string.

"My only vow." Suguru's whisper shook violently in its shout. Refinement bled from his fingertips that held tight. Trembled you in his firm hold. He never meant to rattle you. But the quakes of his heart, his soul, seeped into his hands. Thunder crashed, so did his voice. Never raised, but fierce. Able to still the storm.

"Is to you."

As any sinner would, he allowed his hands to wander. To your face, to cradle, to caress. He flushed you into him. Uncaring of the rain, the blood, the tremor in your body. What did it matter when you melted into him?

"When will you understand that?" Croaked, paired with the thunder. You're shook again. Gentler. The man you knew, unweaved and unravelled before your very eyes. "When will you understand that my devotion is to you — and only—"

His soaked hair kissed your skin as he jerked forward. Violets frazzled, whirled and wild like the storm. His clothes bled into yours. Breaths stilled with yours. Heart beat with yours.

Can't you feel how it shattered for you? How it soared for you? Were his eyes not enough, would you rather his blood as a sign? His soul is already yours. Take the rest of his being. Him, every fibre he'd built through the years.

It didn't matter when it came to you.

"Only you."

Suguru breathed. Lashes soaked in the rain and stroking yours. Body, mind, soul, linked in this endless, agonising scarlet string he couldn't strike, cut, split. Never. He'd never.

Forbidden. His lips inched yours. Every year of training, down the drain. Every stature of his being, torn away by you. Restraint, resolve, refinement, it rinsed away with the rain.

One inch.

One touch.

That's all he needed.

It's all you wouldn't allow.

"Suguru."

You cried when you wished to kiss. You withdrew when all you wanted was to wait. Hold. Lose yourself to his lips, his touch, his love. . . love?

The red string bled. He stiffened.

"I can't." An apology to him or the heavens? He'll never know. Not with the way you still clung to him or the cracks in your eyes. Still held onto his, still fixed. Pleading, wanting, but denying. "I can't. I'm wed. I'm the emperor's wife. I am married. I cannot."

The storm cleared overhead, but not in violets. Rain continued its vast downpour, but now the heat of his body felt cold as he stared. Searching for an answer, for you, the true you hidden in the depths of yourself. The you he saw in the garden. The you he held.

The flower he adored. Now withered. Unsure.

"If you can even call that a marriage." His hand pushed to your cheek, cupped you with a gentleness you never knew. "If you could even call that disgusting pig a husband —" it's the first time his voice raised. And that's when he realised.

He broke code. He shattered tradition. Painted over it with ink of his own desire — no.

His own heart.

And as he stood there. Rooted like that same zelkova before the chrysanthemum he should have never touched, never tainted, only observed from afar. He understood that he was no longer that tree. But a blade of grass. Whispered through the wind. Wilting.

To his own soul.

"As you wish, my lady." He murmured. Even when it was his eyes that plead, wanted. Still, he denied.

His touch slipped from your skin. Arm dangled at his side, together with the string. Weighed heavy between two hearts that knew better. Or did they? Was is that they knew too well?

That fate wasn't a kiss in the rain.

"Forgive this servant for thinking otherwise."

But cruel.

© 𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆 . no copying, translation or plagiarism authorised

[i-like-writing-stuff]

the other five [ five hargreeves x reader ]

request: Hello! This is my first time desperately requesting a fic because the new season is SO bad 😭 Can you write a fic where the reader finds out about everything that happened between Five & Lila and then she gets taken away by one of the Fives at the deli and promising her that he’ll treat her better than OG Five (You can also add a part where OG Five finds out about this and lives to regret it)

a/n: AU where everything in that trash season was the same, except when five made the first jump in s1 he made it in his 32 yr old body bc i will not have y/n pull a zach justice (lmao)

even if lila did 😭😭

anyways basically everyone is the same age

i like to think of the five that comforts y/n as the five that explained everything to five in the last episode because that one literally felt like the five we were supposed to get, the five that was there all the first three seasons

sorry i cant stop trashing this season you guys 😭 i’m just so disappointed

summary: after breaking up with five, you make up with… well, five

part two

“Leave me alone, Five!” You yelled in despair, pushing the man before you away, “Actually, first take me back home, you psycho! I have nothing to say to you!”

“Y/N, please, just hear me out!” Five tried to reason with you, as if anything he would say could make your heart glue itself back.

You were standing in the subway station after Five had blinked himself and you away from the family- or what was left of it, watching him at loss of words. You didn’t recognize the man before your eyes, as much as you tried. You didn’t even have time to gather all your thoughts since there was yet another impending apocalypse on its way, so your mind was completely all over the place.

Five Hargreeves was not the same Five Hargreeves you fell in love with all those years ago. He was not the same man who had stolen your heart and made you feel like you were the most precious person in the world. He wasn’t your partner anymore, he wasn’t your lover. Your boyfriend wasn’t there. You looked at this person and there was a stranger, acting as if he was the same who had hugged you, held your hand, kissed you all those many times. You were questioning everything about him now.

“Take me back!” You yelled again, ignoring his same pleas, curling your hand in a fist, “I’m this fucking close to making you ash!”

As your pure anger got the best of you, you were ready to let your powers take over for a second. Obviously you weren’t actually going to hurt him, no matter how much you wanted him to feel your pain, at least physically.

You met him six years ago, during the first time you tried to stop the apocalypse. You were also one of the extraordinary kids, but luckily enough, Reginald Hargreeves didn’t manage to adopt you- more so, purchase you. You only met Five not long after he managed to time travel back to his family in 2019 after spending all those decades by himself. Before you knew it, you were dragged into the Hargreeves family and your relationship soon after developed.

Your six year relationship that was so merry a few hours ago. Now it was crumbled, trashed.

What hurt was that it was six years only to you. Five managed to block himself seven years away from you, only in the presence of Lila.

“This is so fucking stupid,” You scoffed, fighting back the tears in your eyes, “It’s fucking over! Do you want me to spell it out for you?!”

“I want you to listen!” Five didn’t give up on arguing, “I thought I’d never see you again!”

“You didn’t want to see me again!” You screamed, wailing your hands in the air, “Fucking save it- It’s over! I don’t want to ever see you again if we survive this apocalypse! You ruined our relationship, you ruined your brother’s marriage, family! For fucking Lila!”

You hated him absolutely. The mere thought of his infidelity, of the nerve to act as if he still loved you, it was all despicable.

You grew to love all of your boyfriend’s siblings, and also your nieces and nephews, even if you and Five were not yet married. You planned to be a part of the family officially, but still wanted to focus on your careers, you wanted to adjust yourself to your old life, back to your origins.

“Y/N, please!” He tried to step, towards you, but you started stepping away.

Thoughtlessly, because of all your anger, you just walked towards the first train approaching you, fully intending to be away from him at whatever cost.

“If you don’t want to take me back, I’ll fucking find my own way!” You hopped onto the train, watching as he tried to catch up with you.

But he was too late.

In hindsight, maybe it was not the smartest idea, but you were just so devastated nothing made sense to you anymore. You spent the past six years thinking that you are set for the rest of your life, now that the world wasn’t ending anymore. You reconnected with your family, you built a career for yourself and were living happily with Five, you had literally just finished settling yourself in the new house you bought together. You couldn’t understand how he could do this to you.

You couldn’t understand how Lila could betray your friendship either, especially Diego and their kids.

You tried to make it make sense, be reasonable- it was only a few hours to you, but they were lost in this subway system for seven years.

But then again, Five was lost in the future 45 years by himself and he didn’t give up on trying to return to his family once.

Now he did, he gave up on trying to return to you.

That’s definitely another aspect that stung.

“Fucking piece of shit,” You mumbled, as the train approached its first station, “How do I fucking get out of here?”

You stumbled out of the sub, taking in your surroundings. It was yet another crumbled down station, but if you were to be at least a tiny bit fair, it was maybe a bit better kept. You looked around curiously, trying to figure out where to go from now on. Your fire-based superpowers were totally useless in this situation, so you hated to admit that you were in a bit of a pickle.

You rolled your eyes, as Five rounded the corner and stopped in his tracks, watching you with widened eyes.

“You again?” You sighed angrily, “Take me back or get out of my sight, Five.”

Five raised his brows, putting his hands in his pockets curiously. He didn’t say a word yet, as a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He slowly stepped towards you, not taking his eyes off you once. For a split second, you stopped as well, sending that something was up.

You took in his features, trying to make sense of what was going on, realizing that he didn’t have a coat on him. He was wearing the exact three piece suit an black tie, he was wearing the same silver watch on his left hand, but he didn’t have his coat on.

“Y/N,” He smiled, stopping in front of you, “I never thought I’d see you again, more so here.”

“What the fuck is going on?” You calmly asked, over-analyzing the man before you.

His smile didn’t drop. It was a genuine one, a smile you hadn’t seen in a while. Things between you and Five were okay a few hours ago, but he hadn’t watched you with this look since you first met. His eyes were sincere, taking in every single feature of yours, traveling all over your body.

“I take it your Five danced the devil’s tango with Lila,” He sighed deeply, raising a hand to gently brush away your tears.

When did you even start crying?

Your mind was scrambled all over the place, but at that exact moment you couldn’t say another word. You just melted into his touch, feeling warmth. It really hadn’t been that long since Five touched you, but this touch felt different. His hand rested on your cheek, as his thumb caressed you lightly. His touch was so intoxicatingly sweet, sending shivers down your spine.

“I’m so sorry I’m a literal shitface in some other timelines,” He lightly shook his head, “I’m so sorry.”

“What is going on?” You asked once again, calmer this time.

For whatever reason, you relaxed in an instant. You couldn’t tell if it was because of his gentle touch or simply his presence. Ironic, since just ten minutes ago you were ready to set him on fire.

“Come with me, my love,” Five said, grabbing your hand in his, “I’ll explain everything.”

You didn’t fight his touch, locking your fingers with his. None of you said a word, as you watched you hands fit so perfectly in one another. How could your relationship be over when you were so good together?

You followed Five through the subway station, rounding the same corner he appeared from. You watched as he turned his head to give you a reassuring smile, lightly squeezing your hand in comfort.

After a few more steps and going down a couple of stairs, you widened your eyes seeing a literal deli tucked away in this godforsaken out of order subway system. The headlights above the front entrance were lit up, writing Max’s Delicatessen. You saw inside a huddle of people as you entered, gathering everyone’s attention.

When they all turned to look at you, you literally couldn’t tell whether you or the huddle of people was more shocked.

They were all Fives.

There was music playing inside, as the deli was full of different versions of your boyfriend, whether they were customers sitting at the tables, drinking coffee or having a meal, reading the newspaper or having a chat. There were also other Fives working around, waiting tables or cooking in the back.

Nonetheless, they all stopped to look at you.

“Yeah, yeah, Y/N is here, carry on, you guys,” The Five that was holding your hand waved the others off with his free hand, “She needs a moment, stop being creeps.”

“I can’t tell if this is a dream come true or my worst nightmare,” You said, looking around the deli, as Five guided you towards an empty booth.

You sat down as the other picked up again whatever they were doing, still watching you with the corner of their eyes. Five took a seat in front of you, still holding onto your hand on top of the table, using his other hand to rub small circles on your skin.

“I am not the Five that dragged you here, in case you didn’t tell yet,” Five managed to say, “But I’m pretty sure that you did, since I know you’re smarter than he gives you credit for.”

“He did mention that this subway system is the knot to multiple timelines,” You sighed, as Waiter Five set down two cups of steaming coffee on the table.

You watched him curiously, as he looked yet again exactly like Five, wearing just a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, with a black tie, pantsuit pants and a server apron around the waist. He smiled at you warmly, setting down two small packs of sugar and a creamer.

“I’m sorry, my love, we don’t have any Irish Capuccinos around here, since you’re the first Y/N to set foot in here,” He apologetically smiled, “I can only get you a shot of whiskey, if you’d like.”

Of course they all knew your favorite coffee.

“Make it a bottle,” You said, cracking a smile for the first time, causing him to chuckle, before walking away to attend to your order.

“I can’t begin to explain how much I missed your smile, darling,” The Five before you said, as you turned back to him, “The Handler got to the Y/N in my timeline,” He added, as sadness took over his eyes, “I missed you so much.”

“I can’t understand how you’re the same Five that fell in love with Lila,” You said, before quickly adding, “I mean- technically, you’re not, but still.”

“Everyone around here is a different version of me, from a different timeline,” He said, “I’m one of the many that didn’t go down that road.”

“Thank you, I guess,” You laughed, making him smile again.

What a sweet smile it was.

“When I lost you, I was a total wreck,” He confessed, as you couldn’t help but place your other hand on top of his, “I love you so much, Y/N, I could never hurt you like that no matter what. This is all such a fucked up turn of events, but when I saw you coming out of that train, my mind froze.”

“I love you too, Five,” You said, “But I need to wrap my head around what is going on- Everything is insane, I mean I’m right now in the middle of yet another apocalypse, I just found out that you love Lila and there’s just so fucking many of you.”

“I know, my love, I know,” Five nodded, “I wouldn’t dare to ask you accept everything so fast, I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“Can you just… hold me?” You asked, watching as he didn’t waste another second and got up to slide ne t yo you in the booth.

Wrapping one arm around your shoulders to pull you into his chest, he used his other one to caress your hair. You nuzzled your face into his shirt, taking in his scent, as you felt a wave of certitude wash over you. Five held you tightly into his arms, embracing you after years of your absence. He was grateful to have you in his arms once again.

And he was not about to let go anytime soon.

“I’ll always hold you, my love,” Five muttered, peppering small kisses in your hair.

The Five from your timeline watched from behind the window as you took comfort in his arms, but not exactly his arms.

This was only the beginning of his lifelong regret.

[jordiemeow]

MISC BOT DUMP ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

15/04/25

featuring characters from: challengers, west side story, panic, house of the dragon & marvel

prefacing this with a big fat thank u for 700 followers <3 not proofread in the slightest and very badly tagged but that's okay!! got drafts for fics for a lot of these so. Hmm eventually

still have other reqs to get through but saving those for after anniversary :) rafe lovers u r not forgotten.

gender neutral unless specified otherwise. have fun

enjoy ! <3

CHALLENGERS

SERVE(ING PAPERS)

patrick zweig x user

Your marriage was doomed from the start. Everyone pretended otherwise, and it took you a decade to come to that conclusion, but hey. Frontal lobe development, and all that. The point is you're sick and tired of the fighting and infidelity on both sides. Time to get a divorce.

ANOTHER ONE?

art donaldson x user (m4f)

Art's happy with his life, don't get him wrong. He loves likes his career, adores his wife, and Lily is the absolute light of his life. But it's because he loves your little family so much that he's been thinking about expanding it... how about another one?

WEST SIDE STORY

PLEASE DON'T GO

riff lorton x user

Fancy fuckin' school you managed to get yourself accepted into. All was well and dandy before you dropped the news that it meant you'd have to move away and leave him behind. So instead of telling you he'll miss you, he takes the childish route. What happened to loyalty, huh?

NOT ON MY WATCH

riff lorton x user (m4f)

Pretty girl like you is too good to be seen hanging around with the likes of him. You have a future ahead of you—you don't need to be wasting time with some boy you took pity on as a kid for having a crackhead momma. Cutting you out of his life is a necessity, he tells himself... until he spots some member of the Sharks hitting on you a few months later. Absolutely-fucking-not.

LONG TIME NO SEE

balkan jackson x user

It's been a hell of a long time since you've seen him. Keeping a roof over your head is tough, and Balkan is in too deep with the Jets to worry about maintaining friendships. But when he gets into a fight on the wrong side of town, you're the person he turns to. Maybe he just misses you.

PANIC

DADDY'S LIL ANGEL

dodge mason x user (m4f)

Dodge willingly attending church? Unheard of! But when he realises how pretty the preacher's daughter is, he finds himself attending worship. (Not for God, of course. For you.) He's on his best behaviour around you, he swears, but it's getting increasingly hard not to test how hellbent you are on saving yourself for marriage.

A SHOULDER TO CRY ON

dodge mason x user

If you asked his sister, she'd tell you Dodge has the emotional intelligence of a rock. Definitely not the most ideal person to find you crying in the kitchen after a rough shift at Dot's, but you mean a lot to him. Maybe he can lend you a shoulder to cry on... just don't stain his shirt, please.

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON

HEAVY IS THE HEAD

rhaenyra targaryen x user (wlw)

Lucerys is dead, Daemon has disappeared with Caraxes, and Rhaenyra's council is driving her up the wall with their arguing. But amidst all that chaos, she's able to find solace in the company of her lady's maid: you.

THE NEW QUEEN

alicent hightower x user

When Alicent told you that she had some news to share, you did not expect this. Perhaps that some knight asked for her favour, or that she had a new prayer book to share... not that she was marrying your father. Seven Hells, what has she gotten herself into?

FRIEND OR FOE?

jacaerys velaryon x user (m4f)

In theory, Jacaerys should be avoiding you at all costs. Your father is a supporter of the Hightowers, openly expressing his favour for Aegon on the throne. And yet despite it all, he finds himself seeking out your company more often than not—you aren't like the rest of them, he's sure of it.

MARVEL

PETALS AND PENITENCE

peter parker (tasm) x user

Surprise! Your best friend is Spider-man! And you are not happy about the fact he's kept this very life-altering secret from you, his closest companion. When you decide to ignore him after his accidental reveal, he realises he has to take matters into his own hands—a grand gesture, maybe. It's a pity the flowers got so wrecked in his bag, though.

LAST ONES STANDING

natasha romanoff x user

In the aftermath of the Blip, everything changed. But, five years after the initial disappearance of half the world's population, things are returning to some form of normalcy. Or, at the very least, you're still as infuriatingly optimistic as Natasha remembers.

OH CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN

steve rogers x user

When you enlisted as a medic during the Second World War, Steve was proud of you. He couldn't serve his country, but you could. That was, of course, until Dr. Abraham Erskine took a chance on a poor kid from Brooklyn. Now you're both changing lives for the better, and he's never been more happy to see an old friend.

[barleyo]

Raising the Bar.

Hiromi Higuruma X F! Reader X Toji Fushiguro

A/N: i've had this idea for a while so i hope it turned out well. not sure how i feel about it personally, especially since it's so ooc

Tags: infidelity, cheating, divorce, ooc, infidelity, pwp, cunnilingus, p in v, creampie, baby-trapping, hate sex, no threesome sadly

Wordcount: 2.7k

High school sweethearts never made it in the long run. Everybody had told you that what you and Toji had would burn out, but God, you didn't want to believe them. Maybe that's why you stuck by him, glued to his hip no matter what shit decisions he made or awful positions he had you in. Maybe that's why you found every excuse possible to defend him to your family. Hell, maybe that's why you had his kid. Just another thing to stick it to everyone who disapproved of your relationship.

Years passed, and every day you spent with him was spent like a game of cat and mouse. 

It started with the gambling. You knew about his high and fast lifestyle before you were stuck with him, but you never realized just how quickly a savings account could be drained. Filled, too, as there were good nights and bad nights, but that was not the point. You had never known a man who hated the flesh-scorching burning sensation of money in his pocket like Toji did. Shady casinos and the horse track were his safeholds. It wasn’t just gambling that he fell victim too, though. He was easily impressed with luxury, whether vehicle or clothing.

When you had first met, he took pride in showering you with expensive gifts and tokens, but the cost never really settled with you. It was nice, but the lingering question of where the money came from, and why it was being spent, stumped you. When he was just your boyfriend, it was well enough for you to keep your nose out of his finances.

You lived separately and had your own lives, to an extent. If he wanted to live up to his nostrils in debt and negative credit, that was far from you to speak against. You made the grave mistake of marrying him so many years ago, though. His debt was your debt. His mistakes were your mistakes. Your child, bless him, was just as much comprised of Fushiguro DNA as he was of your lineage. Despite sharing all of these responsibilities, you rarely had a say.

When Toji brought home his winnings, he was content and decent enough, as one would be. What worried you was when he lost. He was never angry at seeing your joint bank account drain, knowing he would eventually win again. He was insatiable, an unstoppable force that never found an immovable object to stall him. You begged him to cut it out, to work out his priorities, and he tried a few many times, but it was never quite up to your satisfaction.

The thing that had broken your trust in him, or what little of it you had left, was when you had tried to purchase graduation gifts for Megumi. Your card declining was something you were used to seeing while shopping. You had tried locking it, but somehow, that couldn’t stop Toji either. Normally, you would call your husband and squeeze an answer out of him, and the funds would be returned to the account after a few hours. That day, though, there was no answer when you dialed Toji’s number. A few seconds went by, accompanied by ringing, but his voicemail ultimately picked up.

It was a long time coming. You sped home and threw his clothes out onto the yard.

You felt crazy. No other wife had to do this, spare the ones on television, so why did you? Could you not have a stable marriage, with a man who, for the longest, you felt a semblance of love towards? Rather than that, could you not have a man who had it under control? One who could focus on more than one thing at a time? One who felt responsibility for something other than his own satisfaction? You wondered if you were justified in trying to get rid of him. You had been together so long, long enough to make restarting life seem pointless.

But then his car pulled into the driveway. His recently purchased car, looking nearly totaled. The car that was being financed through your shared account. The car that you had given up a year’s worth of nail and hair appointments for, so that he could afford it without dragging you both down into poverty.

You gave so much of yourself away for him. Your secrets, time, money, and career, all to stay home to raise his child that, thank God, turned out to be more like you than his father. You gave away your last name in place of his, robbing yourself of any identity, and for what? An irresponsible wretch of a man who knew only how to drink, gamble, and avoid sharing his feelings?

He was lazy, egotistical, and the biggest mistake of your life.

A friend had pointed you in the direction of a decent divorce lawyer. It killed you that it came to this point, but you refused to let yourself play the fool. You had seen how it tore your mother apart to stay with a man who she hadn't loved in a very long time. She stayed brave for you, because she realized her truth much too soon. Now was your chance, with an empty nest and few damns left to give. 

The firm was nice enough. Small, but clean. Well landscaped. Your friend broke a little more than even in her divorce, so obviously the attorneys were capable. Alimony wasn't what you were after, though. Just freedom.

You tried to look put together, if not for the sake of decency, then for the sake of your mental health. The process had not even begun, but you were already exhausted. You knew Toji was going to fight you on this, so preparing for the battle was crucial. You had to call in some backup. 

"Hiromi Higuruma, at your service. I hope you found the place without problem."

He seemed overworked, with light bags under his eyes and a stern disposition following him, but that hardly disguised the fact that he was undeniably attractive. It was simply the truth—the god honest truth—he was a good looking man. Not that you could dwell on that for long

You weren't single yet.

"Yes," you said, after an awakened moment of shifting on your heels, "easily. Thank you for consulting with me, I've heard good things about you."

"Glad to hear it. Follow me, if you would."

Your eyes scanned furiously to find something to focus on, but the ashen, beige walls leading to his office were bare. Not a hint of chaos followed him. There was a clean divide where the outside world started and ended, and outside of that was his territory. Everything in its place, everything with a place to stay. 

His desk was no different. The closest thing to disorganization was the cup of pens that sat on the tabletop, with the mess being in the pens not being color-coded. 

You took a seat across from him and held back the urge to wring out your hands. You instead gripped onto your slacks, pinching silk between your fingers. You wanted to be here, you wanted a chance, but all you could think of was failure. 

Failure to choose the right man, failure to shield your son from arguments and bitterness, failure to be the brave woman that your mother had to be. Failure to pursue happiness, when you knew you deserved it much earlier on.

Higuruma was polite enough to not point out your obvious nerves. Either that, or he had seen it dozens of times before. 

You suddenly felt very unsheltered at that thought. You weren't the first desperate, lost woman to seek his help. And with his looks, well—

"Would you tell me more about your situation?" he asked, voice firm but far from sharp. "Are you looking at a custody agreement with your husband, or splitting assets, perhaps?"

You shook your head, bringing yourself to the present reality. 

"No, our only son is long gone from home now, so custody isn't an issue. Honestly, neither are our assets. The house, the cars, they—" you picked at the skin around your nails, trying to physically peel the jitters out of your body, "—don't matter much to me. I'll take what I can get, but I just can't be with him anymore."

"And why not? Infidelity? Abuse?" He leaned back in his chair, hands clasped together and resting on his chest.

"Nothing like that," you said quickly, tongue rushing to force out defense. "Not at all. He's not the man I used to think he was, and I guess I just can't put up with him anymore. He's got a  spending problem. He's inconsistent. Irresponsible. I could go on."

He huffed in slight amusement, giving off his first impression of humanity and imperfection, with a nod. 

"Please do. I can only work with what you give me, Mrs. Fushiguro."

You cringed at the name, but held your tongue. Until legally free, Toji's last name was your burden to bear. 

"He's completely reckless. It's like I've never got a read on him, and when I do, he flies off my radar." You settled on staring at the window behind Higuruma's head to distract yourself. "He's never planned ahead a day in his life, he's just chancing it. It was fun, when we were young, but it got tiring. It used to excite me, but now it just..."

"Exhausts you."

"Right." You cleared your throat to continue. "I felt lucky, when I was young, to be with someone so free. Now, it's more like I've been trapped."

You had never had someone pay so much attention to you at one time. Given, it was the man's job, but it still felt nice. 

"At first, I thought I could handle it. Thought maybe he'd settle down once our son was born. But Toji doesn’t change. He never does. Every time I thought I had convinced him to get his act together, he’d do something stupid and drop the ball." You swallowed, trying to press down any emotion threatening to spill. "He’s not violent with me, but that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous in his own way."

"Financial instability," Higuruma murmured. "Debt?"

"Not always. I mean, not in a normal way, at least. He always finds a way to dig himself out, but only after making things worse for us first."

Higuruma finally reached for a pen, clicking it absentmindedly before jotting down a note. "Does he know about this meeting?"

"I'm sure he does, but not by my doing. He finds everything out, somehow." You let yourself crack a smile. "At this point, I'm not sure I would even tell him the color socks I'm wearing."

"Good. It's best to keep things to yourself at this point. Detach."

Your eyes darted up to meet Higuruma's dark, tired ones. You were surprised to see him grinning.

"So, dark grey, then?" His pen tapped the desk, motioning towards your shoes underneath it. 

Your feet shuffled a bit, since he was right. 

You were glad to find him. You had faith he would make this all work out. Complete faith.

"So y'leaving me for some prissy fuckin' suit?"

Toji couldn't let it go. He heard you call Higuruma one time. Once, and he latched onto it. He had been on it for days now, trying and failing to get you to change your mind. 

It wasn't the fact that you were leaving him that bothered him. Sure, he loved you. A good bit, actually, but if you were unhappy, he wouldn't stop you. However, the thought of another man taking you—what was his—was what bothered him. 

More than bothered. It enraged him. He accused you of cheating the whole time, but even he knew that wasn't true. He threatened to physically fight Higuruma, but you shut that down just as quickly as the cheating allegations. 

He was somewhat right, though. Of course, you hadn't been with Higuruma the entire time. That was factually impossible. You had gotten close to him, perhaps too close to be considered professional.

A few week of planning court dates and splitting assets had set 'Operation Dark Grey' into motion. Naturally, you both were spending more and more time together. It was inevitable.

One evening, late at his firm, you two happened to be going over documents together, and your hands met over the top of the desk. You tried to pull your hand away, but he wouldn't let you. He held it in his, tensely, as of you would evaporate in front of him if he let go. 

There was no magical confession of love, because that's not exactly what it was. You sought solace in him, in his body. You couldn't refuse him when he sank to his knees in front of you. You gave in when his head slotted between your thighs, when his tongue dipped into your folds. 

He made you feel so good, and more than that, he made you feel attractive. Like you would have a shot in the world after everything was said and done. Like you still had it.

You were weak, and you needed him. How could you turn him down when he had been so helpful and so, so sexy? 

Technically, on a small, fine-print detail, you had cheated on Toji, but he didn't need to know that. 

"No, Toji," you said sharply, pushing your hand against his chest, "I'm leaving you for my own sanity."

"Pfft, right. You think I'm not good enough for you anymore? Got a taste of some boring bastard and now you don't want me?"

God, he could be so childish. It used to be funny, how such a strong, solid man could get so fussy. Now, not so much.

"You haven't been good enough for me in a long time," you answered quickly, spitting out what hateful venom you could tolerate on your tongue, "and you know it."

You were lucky he wasn't one to get his feelings hurt, but that didn't mean he couldn't retaliate.

"Who's not enough, huh? I don't see you bitchin' at me now," Toji sneered, pulling one of your legs up. 

He held you in a pose so strong, so mean, that you barely had the strength to balance yourself. 

It had been months since you had last had sex with him. You forgot the feeling of being drunk on him. Too bad you always woke up feeling like shit after. 

"S—shut up," you spat back. You reached your hand backwards, blindly reaching for his shirt to hold onto. You wanted to say more, to rain hell on him, but he was punching all the air from your lungs. 

He pushed your hand off of his shirt collar, jeering at your flailing palm. He bucked forward and knocked you forward, face down into the couch cushions. He preferred this view, anyways, with your ass in the air and your protests muffled. If you stayed like this more often, he thought, your marriage would have lasted longer. 

Your legs kicked, saying what your mouth couldn't. You were cramping, being bent down so sharply, but the deepness of his strokes made it nearly worth it. 

Toji was a lot of things. 

A bastard, for one. Snarky. Untrustworthy. Irresponsible. 

But, God, he could fuck. Making love, meh. But fuck? Oh, he could do that and well. 

Your greedy cunt spasmed around Toji's cock, dripping onto the shag carpet beneath you. Your mind— a mess of frustration and need. 

You felt Toji slam his cock into you, rutting his head against your cervix's tip. He dug into you, burrowing himself deep enough to become uncomfortable, but necessary. 

"What are you—?"

"Quiet," he hissed, leaning down to your ear to place a nipping kiss. "Feel that? Feel—fuck—feel me throbbing for you?"

Your eyes widened in panic. No. He wouldn't do this to you. Not over something so stupid.

"Let's just try again, yeah? I'll make it work for us, baby, don't worry. I'll take care of you both," he said through clenched teeth, shooting every drop of cum he had saved up into you.

Another try. One more go around to get this right. You guessed you could stick around. 

Everyone deserves a second, or twelfth, chance, right?

[theclairvoyage]

Homecoming (i)

Joel Miller x f!reader

Freshly divorced and knee-deep in debt, you take a part time job at a local dive bar to make ends meet, which introduces you to a sexy, mysterious contractor. The attraction between you two is instant and painfully obvious - where will it take you?

WC: 10k

Warnings: Explicit - MDNI! eventual smut, eventual romance, mentions of divorce, infidelity, betrayal, alcohol consumption, smoking, adult language, no outbreak AU

Folks - as someone who is newly divorced, making this story has been a great way to channel all the post-divorce laments and feels into something fun and healthy. And makes the single life a little more exciting. Hope you enjoy! It will be multiple parts, but I'm not sure how many as of yet. Please request/message me about anything you please :)

Divider by the lovely @cafekitsune <3

Summer 2024

A lot of things felt different today.

The usual comfy, pillowtop mattress in your bedroom now felt like a long slab of sandstone, cold to the touch from the icy night.

The sparkly, bragworthy princess cut wedding ring on your finger now felt like a heavy, rusty band of aluminum and cubic zirconia.

But most of all, you felt different.

In the blink of an eye, you made a decision that shifted everything. The carefully shuffled deck of cards had fallen onto the floor, strewn about like the once put-together buildings of a small, Midwestern town ravaged by a tornado.

You hadn’t even told your best friend yet, nor your family. This was unusual for you—but today, you felt like bearing the weight of this choice on your own. And it was heavy, a 20-pound weighted vest stitched to the seams of your skin, dragging your shoulders down with each step.

Ending a marriage is never easy. It’s never the end goal, from the time you say yes, to the time you say your vows.

Your mind races back to the first date you had with your soon-to-be ex-husband, almost a decade prior. The sweet, chivalrous gentleman who had been too scared to kiss you goodnight now seemed like a very distant stranger. Pictures from that very first date are still stuck to the walls of your living room. Oh, how you dread peeling those pictures off the wall.

And though the stone of dread was burning massive holes in your stomach, there was a glimmer of hope in the corner of your mind. You weren’t sure what it meant, but you knew you’d ride it out of this house and onto the next part of your journey like a magic carpet.

Fall 2024

Divorce was many things, but expensive is not the one you worried about the most. Until now.

Sure, you no longer had to split your paychecks into your personal account and the joint account, so it made it seem like you had more money, but that wasn’t the case. Rent, car payment, utilities, student loans, and the list goes on. And on. And one income instead of two hurts.

Your day job was cushy. But the debts of having to close joint credit card accounts with balances, lawyer fees, and furnishing a new townhouse had sucked you dry. It was time to supplement that income until the debts were paid off. Your family had given you a bit of change, but you threw it directly into your now-empty savings account.

Now, you find yourself scrolling through Google, analyzing the part-time jobs in your area. Cashier. Cashier. Clerk. Call center specialist. Customer service representative. Bartender. Cashier.

Bartender?

You click on the ad for a part-time bartender at a local dive bar, The Home Stretch. It’s one you’ve been to before, usually after a long workday or on a random Friday night with your friends. 15-20 hours a week, and not much other information besides “Call the bar and ask for Steve if interested.” It’s reminiscent of a Craigslist ad, which disgusts and intrigues you.

You scrawl the number on a nearby Post-It note and stick it on the back of your phone. I’ll do it tomorrow.

And you did. Steve is a gruff man in his early 60s eager for some help behind the counter of a dive bar he inherited from his father. “Preferably someone with a nicer ass than mine,” he’d said. You chuckled over the phone and mentioned you’d been to the bar many times before.

“Good, won’t need to show you the whole thing, then,” Steve had replied. “Just come in whenever you have time this week, and we’ll get started.”

“Sure thing, Steve. Thanks a lot,” you replied, not realizing until after that he’d already hung up.

Later that week, you show up at the bar around 8:30 PM after a long day at the office. The door swings open with a loud creak, alerting everyone in the vicinity of your presence. Less than 20 pairs of eyes, mostly from middle-aged men, dart quickly in your direction, forcing you to pause. You gulp and force a weak smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

An older bald man perched behind the bar stares at you a bit longer than everyone else. A pair of bent, yellowed reader’s glasses threaten to slip off the tip of his nose as he scans you. You see the lightbulb illuminate in his head as he recognizes you.

“Hey, I’m Steve,” he says brusquely, reaching a callused hand to shake yours. His grip is firm, but short, and you guess that’s how he is as a person, too.

“Hey, thanks for agreeing to meet with me,” you say, introducing yourself. He waves you off, like he had nothing better to do.

“Come back to the office and we’ll chat. Too many damn eyes out here,” he rasps, forcing a quiet chuckle from you. His reclusive attitude is a fresh shift from the fake cheery types you constantly deal with at work.

Steve leads you to a small office not far from the restrooms, a quick 20-step walk from the front of the bar. It’s stuffy and old and clearly hasn’t been updated since the early 80s. Wood panel walls, dirty linoleum floors, and a couple of file drawers stand out to you as you examine the small space. There’s no desk, but rather a cracked slab of countertop with three beat-up, green-cushioned barstools underneath. The only sound is the loud buzzing of the fluorescent lights above, which are caked with dead bugs and yellow stains. Gross.

Steve isn’t watching you but seems to read your mind as he shuffles some papers on the countertop. “I know, it’s a bit run down. It’s on my list,” he murmurs, chuckling quietly as he gestures at one of the barstools. You sit, expelling all the air from the cushion audibly. You can feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Steve chuckles again. “Don’t worry, it’s not you, it’s the goddamn stools.”

A nervous giggle escapes your lips. Steve sits at the far stool and takes his glasses off before turning toward you.

“I’ll be honest, I have no plans to actually interview you. You want the job, you got it. You seem like a level-headed gal, and not to be weird, but you’re attractive. You’ll do just fine here.”

Confused, you tilt your head at Steve while cocking one eyebrow.

“Are you sure? I haven’t worked in a place like this since high school,” you hesitate, studying his face. He laughs again.

“I’m telling you, this job is a piece of cake. And you can pick your hours. Are you married?” He asks, nodding toward the tan line on your ring finger. You rub it absentmindedly as you shake your head.

“No, got divorced this summer. Tan line won’t go away,” you respond, giving him another weak smile. He sucks his lips into his mouth in embarrassment.

“Sorry. Glad I asked, though,” he says.

“It’s alright, you’re not the first and you won’t be the last to ask me that,” you say, smiling genuinely now. Steve lets out a bigger laugh, catching you off guard.

“In this joint? Yeah, that’s a guarantee.”

Your first few shifts at the bar were a little shaky, but easy, nonetheless.

Steve trained you on the POS system the first two shifts before handing you off to Jerrica, a middle-aged woman who reeks of cigarettes. She’s tall and thin, covered in tattoos, and has the brightest blue eyes, which are lined on the bottom with thick, black eyeliner. Her deep, raspy voice and serious face are intimidating, but you learn quickly that she’s a very kind soul.

She quizzes you on the POS system and where things are located around the bar. You answer seamlessly, impressing her.

“Smart as a whip,” she beams at you, flashing some yellowed teeth as she smiles.

“I have some good teachers,” you reply with a wink.

The next month or so is a breeze for you, and you’re raking in a lot of extra cash. The hardest part is balancing the two jobs—and the many men that frequent the bar. All of them stare at you, most of them are polite, and some brave enough to ask you for your number. Jerrica warned you it would be like this, though she knew you could hold your own if needed.

One chilly, fall Friday night, a group of younger men, likely close to your age, enter the bar. It’s pretty busy—Jerrica and you have been hustling nonstop since around 8 PM. You catch a glimpse of them as they shuffle in and settle at one of the pool tables.

One of the men meanders up to the bar, and you can feel him staring at you from the corner of your eye. Jerrica takes the lead and approaches him.

“Hey, sugar. What can I get for ya?” she asks, wiping down the counter as he surveys the selection of beer and liquor. He stops and snaps his gaze at you when you walk by with a bucket of ice, dumping it in the cooler next to Jerrica.

“Her, if she’s on the menu,” he quips, smiling at you, looking almost reptilian. You size him up and arch an eyebrow, your face screaming unimpressed.

“She’s not,” Jerrica and you respond in unison, and his sly smile quickly turns to an embarrassed frown.

“J-just kidding. I’ll take a couple pitchers of Coors Light,” he squeaks, looking down at his wallet as he fishes some bills out. His cheeks are bright red. You stifle a smile and return to the back to get more ice as Jerrica pours the pitchers for him. When you come back, he’s gone and facing away from the bar.

“Poor kid, guess we ruined his hopes and dreams,” Jerrica jokes, making both of you giggle.

“He’ll get over it as soon as he finds one of his regular type bimbos,” you say. Jerrica cackles.

“I’m gonna go smoke, be back in a few,” she says, patting you on the back as she slips out of the bar.

You scan the bar, surprised by how many people are here. College football fans flock here during the fall for the pitcher specials and greasy bar food, and there’s not an empty table in sight. Thankfully, most people have stuck with ordering the pitchers, so you haven’t had to mix a lot of drinks yet.

A grunt interrupts your thoughts, and you snap your eyes in front of you to a well-built, middle-aged man in a green and black flannel, hands shoved in the pockets of his worn Wranglers. Your eyes meet and lock for a second longer than you’d like before you clear your own throat, which has suddenly gone dry.

“Sorry. What can I get you?” you ask him, noticing the corner of his mouth quirk slightly.

“Eagle Rare, neat. Please,” he responds, silky voice making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Fortunately, you’re adept at hiding your emotions, so he doesn’t notice the sweat form on your hairline as you try to find the bottle and pour him a glass. Or so you think.

“Here you go,” you say, propping the glass in front of him. He doesn’t grab it, though, he just stares at you inquisitively. You force yourself to meet his gaze.

Oh.

You knew from his voice that he’d be attractive, but you didn’t expect this. He’s fine fine. Curly, chocolate hair, streaked with silver. Aquiline nose. Strong, square, clenched jaw lined with a patchy beard. Thick, tanned neck. Deep amber orbs staring into your soul. He’s stoic, yet the lines on his face tell you he’s experienced all the emotions. Your heart flutters in your chest, vibrating like the quick wings of a hummingbird. Your mouth opens before you can think of anything to say.

“You got a tab?” you sputter, breaking his hot gaze to return the Eagle Rare bottle to the shelf. You swear you see him smirk.

“Yes ma’am. Miller,” he murmurs, his voice a little deeper and quieter than before. He’s staring at you without a semblance of shame, and you can feel it burning into your back. You turn to enter everything in the POS system, taking deep breaths absentmindedly.

“Nervous?” The man asks, cocking his head to one side as he studies you. If you thought you were hot before, you’re feverish now.

“W-what? No… why would I be nervous?” You stammer, arching an eyebrow as you continue messing with the POS system, ensuring that you don’t make eye contact with him. Too bad for you, because he sits down on the stool in front of you and meets your gaze.

Fuck, he’s gorgeous. His eyes communicate so many different emotions to you; primarily, amusement. There’s a hint of mischief and something a little more dangerous, a little more smoldering behind it. He cracks a smile at you, revealing perfectly straight, white teeth. You need him to leave. Now.

He chuckles before answering you. “Just seem a little uptight, s’all,” he croons, smile reaching the corners of his Hershey’s Kisses-colored eyes. Their warmth is captivating and calming, almost as if they slow time. Ironically, that’s the last thing you want right now.

“Busy night,” you reply quickly, giving him a brief smile before pretending to organize the coasters and napkins next to the POS system.

“I’ll leave ya to it, then. See ya around,” he says, standing up and returning to his table in the back of the bar. You smile back at him, baring teeth this time, and nod before turning your back to him to restock the cooler.

It’s a good thing you don’t catch the way his eyes sweep your frame, lingering on your ass for a moment longer than he’d like them to. And your smile brought some heat to the back of his neck, so much so that he feels the need to cover it up with his hand as he saunters back to the table.

Dazed and confused, you barely register that Jerrica has returned from break until the stench of cigarettes threatens to give you a migraine.

“Hey, who is that guy over there?” you ask her, turning your back toward the man and pointing your eyes in his direction. She smirks once she sees him.

“Joel Miller, and he’s a hot commodity here,” she says, chortling quietly. Her eyes sweep back to you, and she lowers her head before continuing, devilish smirk on her face.

“You interested? He really doesn’t entertain any of the women here.”

Skeptically, you narrow your eyes at her before turning around to gaze at him again, which turned out to be a shitty idea because his intense eyes are already on yours. A quick panic sets in, and you whip around to face Jerrica. She chuckles.

“Oh, he might entertain you, though… just based on how he’s staring at you now,” she teases, trying hard not to laugh.

“Jesus. I’m taking my break,” you huff, snatching your phone from a cubby underneath the bar and walking toward the back patio before she can say anything else.

“I can help you with that!” Jerrica calls out to you, her voice drowning in the sound of the bar as the patio door slams shut.

Once outside, you close your eyes and inhale deeply. The brisk autumn air sooths your airways, and you can feel your heartbeat finally slowing to normal pace. The fire pit in the middle of the patio is calling your name. You plop down in one of the freezing metal chairs next to it and watch the flames dance, not noticing the squeak of the patio door as it opens.

“Mind ‘f I sit here?” A deep, rich voice asks, startling you from your trance. It’s that sexy rugged mysterious man, Joel Miller.

Fuck.

You shake your head and gesture to one of the chairs, not meeting his eyes. “No, go ahead.”

He half-smiles and pulls back one of the metal chairs next to you, sitting with an audible groan. You chuckle quietly.

“Somethin’ funny?” he asks, eyeing you inquisitively.

“Sounded like it hurt,” you tease him, still not looking at him. He laughs. Not only does it sound genuine, but it awakens something in your belly you didn’t expect. Something molten. You look at him, discovering that once again, he’s already looking at you.

“Finally,” he says quietly, almost an exasperated whisper, eyes traveling your face as he takes a sip of his whiskey.

“Hm?” you ask, confused. He finishes the glass before setting it on the empty chair next to him, swishing the spicy liquid around his mouth before swallowing. You study the muscles in his neck and jaw as they flex and groove. He turns to face you again.

“Y’been avoidin’ my eyes,” he says, tilting his head at you ever so slightly, as if silently asking you why.

The heat in your belly rises, enveloping your chest and neck. You scoot away from the fire to cool off.

“Oh, s-sorry. I try to keep my distance from customers. Makes work a little easier,” you stammer, hoping he’ll buy that. It’s not wrong, but it’s not the main reason you avoid his gaze.

“I see,” he says, raising an eyebrow at you that indicates he knows. His gaze flicks down to your hands, which are held up near the fire. “Are y’cold?”

The heat in your chest says no, but the shivering of your limbs says yes. You shake your head.

“I’ll be going back inside soon. I’ll be fine.”

He stands suddenly, and you wonder if you’ve upset him—that is, until you see him shrug off that green flannel.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Well-built doesn’t seem to cover what you see as he shows off his bare forearms and the muscles peeking from beneath his worn t-shirt. You can tell he’s done manual labor for a long time from the carving of his muscles and the scars that litter his tanned, freckled skin.

“Here,” he says, walking behind you to place the flannel over your shoulders. The act catches you off-guard, and you’re frozen in place. His hands smooth the fabric over your traps, sending electricity from the source to your spine. The scent of his flannel drapes you, also—a rich combination of amber, pine, and whiskey.

“Oh, that’s nice of you. Thanks,” you say, watching him as he walks over to the empty chair housing his empty glass. You smile at him once he makes eye contact with you, and his pupils dilate imperceptibly.

“Don’t mention it. I’m gonna order another whiskey, y’can wear it as long as y’need to,” he says, half-smiling at you again. You watch him as he re-enters the bar, paying close attention to how his jeans hug all the muscles below his torso and acquainting yourself with his confident saunter.

“Jesus,” you whisper to yourself, burying your nose in the collar of his flannel and taking a deep breath. The smell is so good, so unique—it’s not something you’ll forget easily.

You check your phone and notice that your 15-minute break is well over. Absentmindedly, you slip your arms in the sleeves of Joel’s flannel and head back inside. It’s still busy, but people have shuffled out, meaning the night is starting to end. Thank god.

As you step behind the bar, Jerrica smirks at you as she notices your new garment. You shake your head and roll your eyes at her before grabbing a pad of paper and pencil to take inventory of the coolers. She sidles up to you, giggling.

“Yeah—he’s interested in you,” she rasps, making your spine stiffen.

“He’s just being nice. It’s kinda cold out there,” you say, waving her off. She giggles again.

“Uh huh. You gonna keep it?” she teases. You shake your head before heading back into the kitchen toward the walk-in refrigerator, feeling his eyes on you. Your stomach twists and flips as you picture his face, arms, and hands from just moments ago on the patio.

When you come back with a basket full of beer, you notice his seat is empty. Disappointment rushes over you. You see a stack of cash and a receipt next to the POS system. Jerrica is pressing buttons on it.

“He left this for you,” she says, smirking at you again. She points toward the stack of bills and the receipt, which is flipped over. You notice some blue ink scrawled almost illegibly on the middle of the paper.

It’s a phone number; with an area code you don’t recognize. There’s a message underneath.

Call me sometime. Keep the flannel.

-Joel

Your chest feels tight, and your stomach is flipping in overdrive. You re-read the message probably 20 times before folding it into your pocket.

“I told you!” Jerrica says, pointing her index finger at you. “You better not let that one go.”

“I don’t even know him, and once he finds out I’m divorced, he’s probably going to change his mind,” you say, scowling at her. She huffs, irritated.

“He’s divorced, too. You forget he’s older than you. I’ve never seen him give his number to anybody in the 5 years he’s been coming here,” she says, impressed.

“I’ve been out of the game way too long, Jerr—I don’t even know how to approach this,” you admit, embarrassed. She grabs your hands and squeezes them.

“He’s a good guy. He’s not the frat boy type, obviously. Just call him and go from there,” she says, giving you a reassuring smile.

“Call him? What is this, 1995?”

She guffaws. “Honey, he’s old like me. He’s probably no good at that texting stuff.”

“I guess we’ll see,” you say with a snicker.

Later that evening, after a great close, you sink into the couch in your living room. The cushions envelop you, along with the borrowed flannel you’re still wearing. Joel’s scent is still clinging tightly to the fabric, entrancing you each time you inhale. That, and the lingering stench of beer and tobacco.

You check your phone. It’s late, and you need a shower. You sit up, rubbing your temples. Joel’s face invades your thoughts every few moments. Usually, when you meet someone new, you have a hard time picturing their face in totality—like you can only remember fragments. Your brain fills in the missing pieces with faces you already know, creating a strange amalgamation of a person.

Joel, though? Nope. You remember every detail, from his patchy salt and pepper beard to his tanned, lined forehead. You remember the way he looked at you, how his eyes bore into you like a laser beam. And each thought makes your stomach churn.

Perhaps it was too soon to get back into the game—though you were free now, and you had nothing but time. You enjoyed his attention and admiration—it was much different than the attention you didn’t receive during your marriage. And he was divorced, too, so maybe he had some words of advice for you.

Absentmindedly, you rub the skin on your empty ring finger. The tan line has faded over time, and you’ve grown accustomed to the absence of the once-heavy ring you wore. You turn on the shower and disrobe, tossing the stress on the ground along with the pile of clothes.

As you scrub the day away in your scalding shower, a thought emerges.

You step out, dry off, and reach for Joel’s flannel after moisturizing your bone dry, red skin. You button it up until you reach your chest, leaving a scintillating section of skin exposed. The flannel is long enough that it covers the most private parts of you, but the tops of your thighs peek out.

After checking yourself in the mirror 30 times, you pull your phone out and snap a mirror picture. You compose a message to Joel’s number, which is still unsaved, and type a quick sentence before attaching the picture.

I think I’ll keep the flannel if you don’t mind.

You crawl into your crisp sheets, put your phone face-down on your nightstand, and count sheep.

Saturday morning rolls around, and you’re squirming under the sheets. Not because you didn’t sleep well, but because a vivid dream surged through your mind. One that involved your hot, naked skin sandwiched between your sheets and the hot, naked skin of a familiar man.

As you lie there, you replay the montage of events in your head. His hot breath in your ear, whispering sweet praises. His teeth scraping the skin on your neck and chest, leaving little petechiae in their path. His strong hands gripping your ass as he plunges deeper into you, bringing you closer to the edge with each thrust.

You sit up and rub your eyes, grabbing your phone to check the time. It’s almost noon, and you’ll be back at the bar in roughly 4 hours.

3 new messages.

Suddenly, you aren’t groggy anymore, remembering the risque text you sent to Joel before you slept. Your stomach somersaults as you open the messages.

Joel: Jesus Christ.

Joel: Looks way better on you anyway.

Joel: What a nice way to wake up.

Your neck heats up at his compliments. You type a witty response.

You: Thank you. Surprised you can text more than 2 words at a time. You chuckle before putting the phone down and getting ready for the day, still clad in his flannel shirt.

Saturday night at the bar made Friday night seem like a cakewalk.

The place was packed wall-to-wall, teeming with drunk football lovers of all ages, races, and creeds. Jerrica and you barely had time to take your singular break—and Steve helped man the bar all night, which said a lot. One young bartender called in, and the other two showed up hungover, so they were worthless.

You half expected Joel to come, but he never showed up. You ignored the cold feeling of disappointment curling around your ribs, and instead reminded yourself that you really don’t know him, and he has a life of his own.

Now, it’s 1:00 AM, and the bar is starting to empty, lifting some weight from your shoulders. The place is filthy—bar food everywhere, chairs strewn about, trash littered on the floor and tables. Jerrica emerges from the patio, blowing the last puff of cigarette smoke out before stepping into the bar.

“I’ll clean up, hon’—you take your break,” she orders you, tone half serious, half playful. You nod, trading the towel you’d been using to wipe the counter for a bottle of beer. Steve doesn’t mind whether you have a drink or two toward the end of the night during your break, and you haven’t indulged until today. An ice-cold domestic beer sounded heavenly, like stumbling upon an oasis after trekking through the Sahara for days.

You step out onto the patio, plopping down in your usual chair in front of the fire pit. It’s cold tonight, but the heat from your sweaty skin keeps you from noticing. You kick your feet up onto a nearby chair and lean back, gazing at the stars while you take swigs of beer.

The patio door screeches as it opens, but you’re too tired to look up. Probably another patron needing a smoke break.

“Thought maybe y’weren’t here today,” a familiar, deep Southern voice fills the air. You snap upright in your chair, repressing the grin threatening to push against your cheeks.

“Could say the same for you,” you tease him, watching him approach you. He’s got a ratty, long-sleeved Texas Longhorns shirt on and the same beat-up Wranglers he had on yesterday. You take a slow sip of beer, catching the way his eyes lock onto your lips as they kiss the bottle.

“Watched the game at my brother’s. Figured it’d be a shit show at any bar within a 50-mile radius,” he says, swishing around the whiskey in his glass as he watches you.

“You’d be correct, sir,” you reply, tilting your head back to down the rest of your beer. Joel gulps audibly—hearing you address him that way and seeing your exposed neck do something to him, something he needs to stifle.

“Couldn’t resist stoppin’ by, though,” Joel says, ambling over to the chair occupied by your legs. The pitch and tone of his voice have changed, from friendly to raspy, almost sultry. Your pulse quickens. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Why’s that?”

He chuckles lowly, his deep chocolate eyes transfixed on yours. The heat coming from them is enough to make you sweat, and his velvety laugh makes your core ignite.

“Think y’know why,” he responds, sipping his whiskey, eyes unmoved from you. The scenes from your dream emerge in your head, forming knots in your stomach. The hairs on the back of your neck prick your skin as they stand.

A few moments pass by before he sets his glass down on an empty chair. Hands free, he lifts your ankles up and sits in the chair, propping your feet on his lap. His thumb strokes the skin between your shoes and the bottom of your cargo pants, sending tiny sparks through the pores there. This is the second time he’s touched you, and both times it’s felt like mild electrocution.

“If you’ve come to retrieve your flannel, you’re out of luck. It’s not here,” you taunt him, steering the conversation where you both want it to go. His hand slips under the leg of your pants, stroking the skin on your shin and calves. You twitch at the new sensation.

“Ticklish?” he asks, stopping to grip your calf lightly. You shake your head.

“Wasn’t expecting that,” you admit, your voice quiet. The tension between the two of you is palpable, almost painful. The primal urge to jump onto his lap and kiss him has you in a chokehold. He grunts, interrupting your carnal thoughts.

“Heard you’re divorced,” he says, fingers massaging the tight muscles of your calf. It’s slightly painful, but the release of tension feels amazing.

“Is there a question in there?” you quip, raising a brow at him. With a laugh, he nods.

“Yeah, finalized a few months ago. Started working here to pay off some debt from the split,” you respond, trying to remain lighthearted.

“Been there myself. S’not a fun time. Got any kids?”

You shake your head. “Neither of us wanted them in the beginning, and then he changed his mind.”

He purses his lips, nodding slowly. “S’tough but makes the split easier when y’ain’t got any.”

“I take it you have kids?” you ask, curious. He nods again.

“Just a daughter. She’s in college now. Split up when she was real young,” he tells you, moving to massage your other calf. He lightly digs into your flesh, hitting a knot in your mid-calf. You yelp and grip the arm of the metal chair. Your reaction embarrasses you, and you clap your hand over your mouth. Joel’s pupils dilate ever so slightly, the corner of his mouth rising slowly in a devilish smirk.

“Sorry. That hurt?” he asks, switching from kneading to light stroking of your skin.

“Just tight, is all,” you reply, the heat from the back of your neck moving to your ears.

“Mhm. Don’t need that now, do we?” he says, increasing the pressure of the strokes as he tries to tackle the knot. His hands feel good, and you find yourself closing your eyes as he works the knot out. You resist the urge to moan as his fingers massage your tight muscles.

His fingertips slow their pace after a few minutes, stopping to rest at your ankle. You open your eyes and look at him.

“Reckon y’gotta get back in there,” he says teasingly, squeezing your ankle. You sigh heavily.

“I know. Thanks for the massage. What do I owe you?” you ask him, pulling your feet off his lap to stand. He watches as you adjust the waistband of your pants, accidentally revealing your navel to him in the process. He clutches the glass of whiskey in response.

“Another glass of whiskey,” he murmurs, before dropping his voice to add, “And maybe another picture of you wearin’ my shirt.”

Your heart jumps into your throat, and you force a swallow to shove it back down into your chest. You take a step toward him, and he stands from the chair. He’s a little taller than you, but not by much.

“I usually don’t send strangers multiple pictures of me… especially ones where I’m not wearing much,” you tease, watching the way his eyes trace your lips. You swear you hear a growl bubble in his throat.

“Guess I gotta work on that, then,” he says, itching to caress your lips with his finger.

“Well, you know where to find me,” you respond, sidestepping him to return to the bar, huge grin plastered on your face.

2:00 AM rolls around, and Joel’s still at the bar. You emerge from the office with your things to find him propped against the bar, chatting with Jerrica. He’s facing her, but his eyes move to you, sweeping up and down your frame as you approach.

“I’m heading out. You good to take me home, Jerr?” you ask her, clocking out on the POS system.

“Of course. Let me finish up here and we’ll go,” she says, squeezing your arm affectionately. She bids Joel farewell before finishing up her closing duties, leaving you two and the magnetism between you alone.

“I’ll take you, if y’want,” Joel offers, fishing his wallet out. He grabs a stack of bills and divides them, placing one half on the bar and giving the other to you. Warmth blooms in your chest. He tips you way too much, but it’s a kind gesture.

“Sure, I’d like that. It’s not too far from here,” you tell him, “Just let me tell Jerr.”

“Not a problem,” he says, hopping up, shoving his hands in his pockets as you walk over to Jerrica to tell her.

“Better get yourself a breath mint,” she whispers, pinching your arm lightly. You sniff your breath in the palm of your hand and wave her off.

“I’m good. Nothing will happen anyway,” you say, rolling your eyes. She giggles, pulling a stick of gum out of her back pocket.

“Just take it, and no tongue on the first one!” she teases you. Your neck flushes again, but you pop the gum into your mouth and make sure it’s chewed up enough to hide in your cheek before Joel sees.

You’re giddy as you exit the bar. Joel’s hand finds your lower back as he guides you out the front door and through the parking lot to a fancy pickup truck parked in the spot furthest from the door.

“You’re one of those people, huh?” you ask him. He chuckles.

“I could use the steps. S’lotta work fillin’ in paint chips from door dings, too,” he grumbles. He walks you over to the passenger door and opens it for you, offering his palm as leverage as you hop into the elevated seat. His hand is warm, and a little sweaty. You wonder if he’s nervous, too.

He trots over to the driver’s side and starts the truck, turning the volume knob down as Waylon Jennings croons over the speakers. You smirk at the small action, wondering if he’s embarrassed by his music choice or the fact that he was likely singing on his way here.

You guide him to your place, which is less than ten minutes from the bar. He’s a great driver—calm, smooth, and not too fast. His right elbow is propped on the center console, just inches from your arm, though you keep your hands clasped in your lap. Your nerves ignite as you get closer to your place, anticipating what may or may not happen once he drops you off.

He pulls in the driveway of your townhouse and parks the truck.

“I’ll walk you up, stay put,” he commands softly, getting out of the truck and walking to your door. He opens it, offering his hand again as you step down.

The knots in your stomach are so tight, it feels like you might throw up. You can’t remember the last time you were so nervous with a man, if ever. You let go of his hand once you’re on level ground, wiping your clammy palm on your pant leg. He follows you to the front door, hand locating your lower back once again.

“Do you want to come in? If not, it’s okay. I know it’s late,” you offer, gauging his face as you press the keypad to unlock the door. His flaming eyes and the clenching and rolling of his jaw say yes, but the stiffening of his shoulders betray his hesitation.

“Mind ‘f I use the restroom?” he asks, gaze flicking between both your eyes. You smile warmly at him and nod, not missing how his eyes lock onto your lips immediately.

“Not at all,” you reply, opening the door and pointing toward the bathroom, down the hallway beyond the living room and kitchen.

He saunters down the hall, hopefully not noticing the way you’re checking him out, marveling at how well his jeans fit him and that goddamn suave walk of his. He shuts the door, and you exhale deeply, pressing your back against the now-closed front door.

You ponder the next steps as he’s in the bathroom. One, he could just leave. Two, he could kiss you goodnight, and then leave. Three, he could… well, you can’t think about option three, which closely resembles your dream from the previous night.

As you hear the sink in the bathroom turn on, you scurry over to the kitchen sink to wash your own hands, giving you a quick distraction from your nerves. The door opens as you scrub your hands, fingertips pressing hard into your palms to relieve some tension.

His footsteps approach you just as you’re drying your hands, your back facing him. He gets closer until you feel the warmth of his body radiating behind you. He takes the towel from you and places it on the counter before placing a firm, strong hand on your shoulder and turning you toward him.

Fuck. This is it.

Hand still clasped to your shoulder, he stares into your eyes and moves in closer to you. The proximity of him and the realization of what’s about to happen has you seeing stars in the corner of your eyes.

After what feels like eons, Joel’s lips finally meet yours, softly and pliantly. The kiss is tender, but deliberate, like he knows exactly what he wants, but needs to make sure you’re at his level before progressing. The hand on your shoulder wraps around your upper back, and his other hand grips your waist to pull you flush to him. His warmth is hypnotizing, and you melt into him, completely at the mercy of his touch.

You respond, wrapping your arms around his solid torso, feeling his strength and the span of his back as he deepens the kiss. His scent overwhelms you, giving you a euphoric head rush. He tastes like whiskey and mint, and you wonder when he slipped an Altoid or piece of gum into his mouth between the bar and now, like he knew this would happen. Butterflies scatter throughout your body at the realization.

His firm hand on your upper back moves to the other side of your waist, and he hoists you effortlessly onto the kitchen counter, taking you by surprise. You squeak, and he breaks the kiss momentarily to laugh, the deep, silky sound shooting straight to your core. His palms rub on your thighs before traveling up to grip your hipbones, calloused fingertips grazing bare skin between the waistband of your pants and the hem of your shirt. You moan lightly at the touch, spurring him on. His hands reach further under your shirt, stopping at your sides, thumbs swiping at the soft skin surrounding your navel.

Joel’s lips travel down your jaw and land on your neck, teeth grazing and tongue swirling on the sensitive skin. You moan again, louder this time, as his mouth sends shockwaves of pleasure up and down your spinal cord. He groans in response, gripping you tighter and kissing up to your earlobe. Your legs are hooked around the back of his thighs, pulling him close, and you feel his arousal on your hip.

You’ve never been kissed like this before, not even the first time you made love with your ex-husband, or on your wedding night. It feels surreal, almost cinematic—like you’re shooting a love scene with a hot stranger, ignorant to the surrounding cameras and crew. Your body is aflame with passion, burning you from the outside in—the flames twisting around each vein inside you, heating the blood that travels back to your core.

Joel breaks the kiss and presses his forehead to yours, panting. Both of you exchange labored breaths for a few moments as you recollect the last few minutes.

“Think I better get goin’,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss you gently before hoisting you off the countertop.

“Too much to handle?” you tease him, walking him to the front door. You hear him growl, and in the blink of an eye, he grabs your waist and pushes you against the front door before closing the gap between you, his hips flush with yours. There are only inches between your lips, but you can taste the hunger emanating from him as he stares into your eyes.

“You have no idea what I wanna do to you, darlin’,” he hisses, hands squeezing the globes of your ass as he leans in to kiss you again. You moan into his mouth before reaching up to tug at the curls on the nape of his neck, pulling his lips off yours. He sucks in a sharp breath.

Oh. He likes that.

Still clutching his curls, you rub your thigh against the erection threatening to bust his jeans. “I think I can guess,” you tease him, moving your leg up and down his length. His eyes close in pleasure, and he groans softly. You cup his jaw and bring him in for one more searing kiss.

“No need to rush things,” you coo, stroking his bottom lip with your thumb as he watches you, wrecked. He chuckles before letting go of you, throwing his hands up in surrender.

“Alright then. We’ll take it slow,” he rasps, smoothing curls out of his sweaty face.

“Does that mean you want to see me again?” you ask coyly, batting eyelashes at him.

“I’m lookin’ forward to it,” he replies, kissing you one more time before heading out to his truck.

Fucking hell.

Only been a few hours, but it feels like days

Only been days, but it feels like months

Life moves fast when you’re doing what you want

I guess I’m doing what I want, hope you’re doing what you want

The next four weeks didn’t go at all how you expected them to.

You worked at least 3 shifts at the bar each week, and Joel didn’t show up once. Worse, he didn’t text or call you, either. You went from understandable—because he’s probably busy—to confused, then upset, and finally, bitter.

And then you sat down and had a real conversation with yourself about expectations. Were they too high? Were you out of the game too long to scrutinize this logically? Were you being too clingy? You’d only texted him a few times, noticing that the messages hadn’t delivered normally, like he didn’t have service or blocked your number.

The fiery kiss you two shared lingered in your mind every day. The morning after it happened, you’re positive you’d lied in bed for an hour just replaying each moment before daydreaming about how the night would’ve progressed had he stayed over.

The combination of his rough and soft touches had you aching for him—the firm gripping of your hips as he lifted you on the countertop, the soft strokes on your delicate skin. The way his lips and tongue moved so smoothly with yours and the flaming trail they’d left on your neck and jawline sent shivers up your spine. And left you unbelievably horny.

Each time you’d thought of the passion, the feelings of regret and embarrassment soon followed. Though that was the single life, you figured. It was time to accept the new normal.

Now it’s Friday night, and you’re late for your shift at the bar. You’d left the office late after enduring a chaotic day, which put you directly in the crossfire of rush hour traffic. That, and a perfectly timed late fall, early winter freezing rain spell had immobilized traffic and put you a couple hours behind. You called Steve and Jerrica—they were understanding, of course. But the stress of your day and the feeling of letting the bar down had you in a foul mood.

You roll in at 8 PM, more than 2 hours after you normally come in. Flustered and frustrated, you power walk to the back office to drop your stuff off, noticing that it’s busier than normal. Finally, you make it behind the counter. Jerrica is pouring some pitchers but glances your way with a smile.

“Jesus, Jerr. I’m so sorry. It was an awful day,” you lament, pulling your unkempt hair out of your face. You looked a mess, wearing a slightly small t-shirt and old, ripped jeans. Not exactly cold-weather friendly, but that’s what you get for giving yourself 5 minutes to change.

Jerrica chuckles as she hands the pitchers off to customers. “I understand, hon. Really, it’s fine. We’ve had a good crowd tonight.”

“Thank god. Need me to stock anything?” You glance at the cooler, noticing that it looks a little barren.

Jerrica nods. “Please, and I’m low on ice, too.”

Eager to fix the mess you helped create, you start to work. Four buckets of ice, several trips to the fridge and back, and one sheen of forehead sweat later, everything is stocked. The bar is still busy, but a rare quiet moment where everyone seems to have a full drink gives Jerrica an opportunity to take a smoke break.

“Be back soon. Don’t hurt ‘em now,” she teases you, squeezing your upper arm as she trots toward the patio.

You take a moment to scan the tables, nodding or waving at most of the regulars. It’s a relief to work in a place like this, where the majority of them are nice, blue-collar folks just trying to relieve the tension of the American work life, and you know they appreciate the work you put in.

Your heart stops when you see a familiar head of curly hair atop broad shoulders in his usual spot. And of course, as usual, he’s already looking at you. There’s a smile on his face, and fuck, he looks good. He looks a little fatigued, obvious by the faint, dark circles under his eyes and overgrown stubble, but nonetheless thrilled to see you. The curls on his head are mussed and flattened in certain spots, like he had a hat on for a while and hasn’t had time nor energy to fix them.

And then you remember you haven’t seen or spoken to him in about a month, and the polar vortex swirls in your chest. You smile at him, though it doesn’t reach your eyes, and distract yourself with organizing the cash drawer, hoping that he feels the cold front.

Jerrica returns from break, sidling next to you. She must feel the ice emanating from you.

“He asked about you,” she says, not looking up at Joel. “Said he’s been crazy busy with work and hasn’t had good cell service where he’s been. Some odd job a few hours away. He seemed real sorry, honey.”

A heavy, resigned sigh escapes your lungs. You close your eyes and lean your head back, inhaling deeply before facing her. She was the first person you told about the kiss and the subsequent ghosting. She then let you know that Joel was a successful contractor who’d been running a business with his brother for years, a detail he neglected to share with you. You knew you were probably being harsh, but a little communication would’ve put you at ease.

“I get it, just wish he would’ve told me. It would’ve taken two seconds,” you say, closing the drawer and turning to face her. She mirrors you.

“You look exhausted, girlfriend. Take a break and take a beer with you if you need it.”

“Fine,” you reply, feigning stubbornness. Jerrica laughs before handing you a bottle of your favorite domestic beer. You grab your sweatshirt from under the register and slip out back.

Thankfully, it’s empty out here, leaving you alone with the crackling flames of the fire pit. And though the beer is the same temperature as the air outside, it feels damn good as it washes down your throat. You sit as close as possible to the fire, propping your elbows on your knees as the warmth invades your space.

Like clockwork, the patio door swings open and out comes Joel. Your back is facing the door, but you know it’s him—the familiar scent and staccato of his footsteps give him away. Two hands lightly squeeze your shoulders, making your scalp tingle and chest tighten. He starts rubbing them softly.

“These are tight,” he murmurs as his hands work up your traps and neck, shrinking the knots embedded in the muscles there. His deep voice is raspier than usual, like he’s been yelling.

“Been stressed,” you respond, closing your eyes as he rubs the stress out of you. You want to be pissed, but don’t have the energy to put up a front anymore.

“I can help ya with that,” he murmurs. You puff out a quick breath, frustrated—at him, and at yourself for being frustrated with him. Joel squeezes your shoulders a little tighter, leaning down. His beard tickles the skin on your temple, and your pulse quickens.

“’M sorry,” Joel hums, lips close to your ear, “I shoulda called, or let you know what was goin’ on. Been busy myself.”

“I understand, Joel. It would’ve been nice to know. I thought maybe it was me,” you answer quietly. He sighs in response, letting go of your shoulders and plopping down in the chair next to you.

He places a hand above your knee and squeezes lightly. “You did nothin’ wrong. The opposite, actually. I ain’t been able to get you outta my mind since I left that night,” he admits, chuckling softly. Finally, you bring yourself to look at him.

He looks exhausted up close, the sharp edges of him a little worn, but still ruggedly handsome. His eyes are less amber and more muted brown, like they haven’t seen the light in a few days.

“You look tired,” you say, reaching up to fix some of his messy curls. He closes his eyes as you touch him, like it provides him with instant relief.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he murmurs, pulling your hand from his head toward his mouth, planting a soft kiss on the top. The gesture floods you with guilt. He smiles at you, a silent It’s okay.

“Wanna make it up t’you,” he adds, kissing your hand again before returning it to your lap.

“I’ll allow it,” you tease him.

“Let me drive you home. Tommy has my truck, and it’s slick out there,” he asks, squeezing above your knee lightly. The now serious tone of his voice indicates that this is not a request, but a soft command. You cover his hand with yours and squeeze in response.

“That would be great,” you respond. “Though I’m going to need a long shower—I didn’t have a chance to take one in between jobs.”

He raises an eyebrow as he removes his hand from your leg, jaw clenching as he imagines what your body looks like naked and soaked. He can only imagine it’s perfect, given how good you look in clothes.

“Gonna make the rest of the night difficult,” he laments playfully. “Guess I deserve it, huh?”

You shrug, doing your best to stifle a smirk. It feels like time to head back in, and Joel senses it too.

“S’alright, I’ll be waitin’ for ya when it’s time to go,” he says, scooting closer to the fire. He turns to watch you walk back into the bar, and you catch him as you glance back right before the patio door closes, his eyes glued to your ass. Your cheeks and neck flare with heat.

The rest of the night was filled with nervous anticipation. You went from telling yourself that you’d get a repeat make out session from the first night, to entertaining the possibility of having sex with Joel. The thought of it frightened and thrilled you—it would be the first person you’d slept with since your ex-husband.

After a smooth night, closing time rolls around. After several mop buckets and restocks later, you emerge from the back office. Joel is waiting for you at the bar, the usual stack of bills propped on the counter in front of him.

“I wanna know details,” Jerrica whispers in your ear as she walks up with you. Your cheeks heat up again, and you widen your eyes at her, an unspoken Shut up.

“You’ll be the first to know,” you reply, sly smile playing on your lips. She giggles, waving bye to Joel as she makes one last round of the place before locking up. Joel is watching you approach him, equally giddy and nervous as you. He’d been thinking about what would go down tonight, too—and boy, he was ready to give you everything you wanted. The electricity between you fizzes in the air, like a firework moments away from exploding.

“Ready, darlin’?” Joel asks, standing from the stool and shoving his wallet in his back pocket. You nod, the nickname charming you.

Joel walks you to your car, and again, his hand finds home on your lower back. It’s a gentlemanly gesture, but the feeling of his hand on you makes your core throb. He opens the passenger door for you, offering a hand as you shift weight on the icy pavement and get in your car. You have a nice sedan—one of the only things you purchased on your own during the marriage, much to your ex’s chagrin.

Joel handles the slick roads like a pro, never losing traction. He remembers exactly where to go to find your townhouse. Throughout the ride, you find yourself growing sleepier with each passing streetlight. You’re so tired, you hadn’t noticed he laced his fingers with yours on the center console. It was sweet and domestic, like you’d done it a thousand times before.

You arrive, and like last time, Joel tells you to stay put while he trots around to open your door. Your eyes fight to stay awake—the stress of the day is threatening to drown you. Joel notices.

“Tired, sweetheart?” He asks, wrapping an arm around your waist as you walk inside through the garage.

“Me? Never tired,” you lie, sleep already taking over your voice. Joel laughs as he helps you walk up the few steps that lead into the kitchen.

“Let’s get you to bed, huh?” Panic sets in. You don’t want him to leave, and through the blanket of fatigue covering you, you feel guilty.

“Joel,” you say, turning around and putting two hands on his chest. He looks into your eyes, trying not to laugh at how sleepy you look.

“Hm?” He responds, smirking at you.

“Please stay with me,” you ask. The smile fades from his face as he notices the expression on your face, like you’re worried about him leaving in the middle of the night. He cups your face in his warm, rough hands, marveling at how gorgeous you are, even in your half-asleep state.

“’Course. I’m not goin’ anywhere.” You wrap your arms around his torso, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He responds immediately, enveloping you with his strong arms, kissing the crown of your head softly. He hoists you up, searching for your bedroom in the dim lighting of your place. He finds it, nudging the door open with an elbow before gently placing you on the bed.

“Let’s get you some clothes,” he soothes, flicking one of your nightstand lamps on. The low light paints him in an amber glow, and though your eyes are half-open, you watch him amble around your room.

“Top drawer,” you mumble, pointing at your dresser. He opens it up and pulls a big t-shirt out.

“Wait, I need to shower—I ne—,” you stammer, before Joel shushes you.

“S’okay. Y’can shower in the morning. Let’s get you to sleep, sweetheart,” he coos, helping you sit up. You feel like a helpless baby, but you’re so exhausted. You’d have slept in your jeans if he wasn’t here.

He undresses you, peeling the sweaty shirt from your torso. His breath catches in his throat at the sight of your half-naked torso, dotted with tattoos and soft skin, mesmerized at how your old t-shirt bra complements the tone of your skin and the curve of your breasts. You’re beautiful, even in your rattiest clothes. He pushes the soft tee over your head, doing his best not to ogle. You unclip the bra underneath the shirt, pulling it through one of the arm holes. Joel chuckles.

“S’magic, how y’all do that,” he says, making you giggle. You lie back, ready to fall asleep. Joel pats your leg.

“Y’can’t sleep in jeans. What d’ya sleep in?”

“Panties,” you mumble, eyes closed. “Middle drawer.”

Joel clears his throat uncomfortably and opens the drawer, impressed with the variety of underwear he sees folded in it. He pulls a pair of blue cotton and lace panties and returns to the bedside, trying like hell not to imagine what you’d look like with these on. And though his desire for you is strong, he is ever the gentleman, wanting never to overstep your boundaries. He pauses next to you. You sit up, exhausted but aware of his hesitation.

“I’m gonna use the restroom, darlin’. Be right back,” he assures you, his soft, deep voice caressing your eardrums. He steps into the bathroom connected to your bedroom and shuts the door softly.

You take the cue and peel your jeans and underwear off, replacing them with the blue panties, appreciating his respect for you and your privacy. You lie back down and turn your lamp off, your tired eyes quickly welcoming the darkness that paints the room.

Half-asleep, you slip under the sheets on one side of the bed, back facing the bathroom door. Moments later, Joel emerges quietly, and the telltale clink of a belt buckle tells you he’s taken his jeans off. Though moonlight seeps through your blinds, it’s not enough to see him as he prods toward the bedroom door to shut it.

He gets into bed and reaches for you immediately, the warmth of his body cloaking you like another blanket. You reciprocate and wrap your arms around him, inhaling deeply as he nestles you against his chest. The scent of him is hypnotizing—amber, pine, cedarwood, and whiskey. A blend that is eclectic and brooding, yet warm and romantic. He strokes your hair as you melt into him, your legs tangled together under the crisp sheets.

He presses his lips to your forehead and whispers goodnight before sleep finally takes over you.

Part (ii)

Taglist: @burntheedges, @tuquoquebrute, @syd-djarin, @danaispunk, @anoverwhelmingdin <3

[housemdork]

house md rewatch: 1x07, "fidelity"

they took a bunch of soap opera tropes and stuffed them full of painful ethical qualms about love. i love it.

i love this episode for many, many reasons; it shows the writers' skill in adapting preexisting medical drama tropes into much more rewarding and complex viewing experiences. but, more shallowly, i gotta admit that i'm thrilled by the Walking Ethical Qualm who kicks things off:

him and his fuck-ass "i want to look pretty at work" green tie. gone are the days when he is nothing but house's conscience! wilson does all the exposition work by foregrounding the moral issue of the hour: infidelity, and how it can be twisted by those who commit it and those who suffer the consequences. i'll save my wilson-centric yapping section for the end of this post lol. for now, let's take how house describes wilson's endemic cheating problem informs the rest of the episode: "you love everybody. that's your pathology."

the adulterers in the episode - wilson and the patient, elyse - both claim that they love their partners in spite of their behavior. house seems either A) unconcerned because he's seen his best friend have this problem a dozen times before or B) disinterested because he needed elyse's truth to solve the puzzle of her illness, not the downfall of her marriage. he's content to leave things where they lie - everybody lies.

cameron, however, is abundantly not content with this. and though they never share a scene together in this episode, cameron is profoundly affected by wilson's fidelity question in 1x07. house doesn't let cameron engage with elyse and her husband, ed, because he doesn't think she's prepared for those hard conversations post-1x04, the baby crisis. i think it's a valid concern, and it's one that wilson notoriously highlighted when he had to take the fall for cameron in 1x04. by all accounts, she isn't ready.

which is why it's shocking (and a little satisfying) to hear cameron tell ed that he is a shitty person for hoping his wife dies because she cheated on him. because house md loves to prod at the uncomfy parts of ordinary life, they've honed in on a moral grey area - surely it's not okay to wish death on someone for cheating...

and while it sorta feels like, on the surface, cameron is being something of a girls' girl here, she's actually sabotaging her own belief system and coming to the meta-textual defense of someone she's been shown not to agree with: wilson (hear me out on this lol). in the subsequent scene, cameron confides in house that her husband died at around 21 years old of thyroid cancer after they were married for 6 months (sidebar: this is arguably one of my very favorite pieces of backstory for all the characters). this is why she's so impacted by things like loss, betrayal, and lying. she acted on such pure intentions that it's especially jarring for her to witness cruelty, despite being very familiar with how hard Life (capital L) can be.

house is fascinated by this contradiction, and draws it out of cameron that she knew her husband was dying when they got married. then, my favorite exchange between house and cameron transpires: "and you married him anyway. you can't be that good a person and well-adjusted." "why?" "because you wind up crying over centrifuges." "or hating people?"

i said before that house can never take what he dishes out, especially to cameron, and this truly was the gag of the century that will follow house until the very end of the series. she sees such kindness in house, is so dedicated to seeing and unveiling it, that it actually breaks my heart.

but back to cameron and wilson. cameron's devotion to her husband was completely absolute. it's astonishing to house (and to the audience, i'm sure). so when, by the episode's end, she's pleading with ed to stay with elyse despite the betrayal, cameron has evidently experienced a huge readjustment of not her morals, per se, but her way of seeing those morals in the world.

she still believes in the absolutism of love. i don't think anything will take that away from her. but cameron forces the audience to confront the idea that love is imperfect right as she's confronting it, too. if house asserts that wilson's pathology is loving everyone, can love itself be a problem? cameron is wrestling with this: can something inherently good and pure be so destructive?

in wilson's life (and in his evil little adulterer way), yes, love is destructive. he's so far down the adulterer pipeline that he's bastardized the hard reality cameron is trying to grapple with in 1x07. but house himself has established, textually, that both cameron and wilson are defined by how much they love. one is clearly sick and twisted and based on lies, the other not so much, yet this doesn't mean the world gives preferential treatment to either.

the face of someone well accustomed to how twisted relationships can be vs. someone who's learning about that fact for the first time:

not to read too deeply, but wilson being in a dark suit coat for the duration vs. cameron's white lab coat seems significant, too.

above all, i love how house presides over this dilemma. he remains as distant as possible, just observing another one of wilson's relationship flops and the dissolution of a fraught patient relationship, until cameron. cameron draws vulnerability out from house in a way only wilson has thus far, and caps it off with a profound understanding of why he's Like That. the goodness lurking in house is as painful for him as it is for cameron. she can see that.

now (more) about wilson :)

that fuck-ass green tie being compared to a breast augmentation. the breast augmentation that was intended to get the clinic patient's husband to sleep with her. the breast augmentation that failed because her husband was already POISONING her to decrease their sex drive. the green tie therefore dooming wilson to another failed affair because it's about Needing, not fulfillment, not anything long-lasting. the green tie/breast augmentation parallel being tied to someone's sex drive. wilson being so far in the closet that -- *gunshot*

let's not even mention the fact that house intuitively knows that wilson's current wife (who tf is julie lol) would never get him a green tie in the first place.

later we hear what becomes, in my opinion, one of the most vital character traits in all of house md: wilson's need for neediness. or, to use house's words about the new oncology nurse wilson has so kindly been ~having lunch with~ - "she would certainly have the neediness you need." doctor james evan wilson you make me crazy!!!!!

viewers at this point have no clue why wilson needs neediness. it sounds very superfluous and highly misogynistic/manipulative (not that it isn't in the long run, but we learn about the deep pathology as time goes on ofc), probably a callback to how they just ogled the clinic patient together. big yikes. with some imagination, however, we can guess that this Need For Neediness coincides nicely with his oncology practice - those patients will always need him. and he will love all of them (somehow), as house points out: "you loved all your wives. probably still do. in fact, you probably love all the women you loved who weren't your wife...as long as you're trying to be good, you can do whatever you want."

i remember watching this for the first time and being like "holy baggage. is wilson the villain?"

all that is to say this was a HELL of a fun episode with an insane patient plot twist - ELSYE CHEATED ON ED WITH HIS BEST FRIEND! WHO WAS JUST ASKING ABOUT ED'S SEX LIFE! i love the cameron centrism, was thrilled to hear her backstory reveal, etc., etc. this made up for 1x06.

my last bit here is very divorced from this episode but spoilers the series finale:

6 months. she married him anyway. "i watched my husband die of cancer." cameron seeing the same good in house that inspired her to love and stay with her dying husband. staring down a clock together and living the best life they could. i know the series finale was not planned. i hear that parroted all day, every day. but seriously. how tf did all these parallels happen.

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Heeeeey! If you wanna right about Hoffman, I had this on my mind. (I wouldn't mind if you don't like it btw)

Reader is Strahm's wife. Their mariage is not going so well because of Jigsaw case. For some reasons there's a party at the police station and partners are allowed. But Strahm being work alcoholic, he left his wife alone during this event. Of course she seam bored and doesn't know any other of Strahm coworkers.

Mark being bored as well and knowing very well the reader is Strahm's wife. He decided to have a little fun with her, so of course there's flirting and sex jokes. He invites her at his place and they have a "funny" time together.

The next morning, Strahm is looking for his wife to go home but he can't find her. He calls her and he's only greeted by "Hoffman." :3

I instantly fell in love with this request and I’ve been writing it and dedicating so much time into it bc I love it so much!!! AHHHHHH. Thank you anon 😘

Mark Hoffman x Strahm’s Wife!Reader

CW: infidelity, drinking, oral f!receiving, degradation, p in v, kinda possessive mark??, some minor biting, creampie

~~~

You stood with arms folded over your chest. Anger brewing inside you. Feeling like a volcano ready to explode.

Here you were at your husband’s work party, with your husband’s coworkers, in a dress your husband picked out for you. Yet who just blew you off to head down to his office? Your husband.

Rushing downstairs so that he could investigate more on the Jigsaw Case.

He returned late night after night. Blowing off plans, ignoring every phone call, sleeping at the station sometimes, never asking how your day was. Ever since he took that stupid Jigsaw Killer case, he was not the same man you married. Obsessed and manic over finding who this guy is. You could not take it much longer.

You sat at the small round table in your dining area waiting for him to get home. He barged through the door around 8 p.m. The party started at 7. You were dressed in the dress he had picked out for you. He sighed as he hung his jacket on the back of the door, eyes not even coming up to meet yours.

“We need to talk,” you broke the silence between you.

He rolled his shoulders and eyes as he tugged at his tie. Ignoring you entirely. Heading towards your shared bedroom. Well, previously shared. Since he started coming home late, you decided to start sleeping on the couch so that he could have a better night’s sleep. That was the reason you told yourself anyway.

“Peter,” you dared. Anger spitting from your lips like venom. You heard him groan from the other room, coming back where you were in a new outfit. “We need to—“

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Y/N. Can’t you fucking save it til after the party?! We’re late already and I don’t have time for this!” Peter barked out at you. Heart sinking into the pits of your stomach as you gripped the paper on the table. Your lip twitched with rage.

Silently you stood up and began out the front door. Peter sighed as he followed closely behind you. A completely silent ride to the station followed…

And now here you were. Alone with a bunch of people you hardly know. Having to pretend like your marriage was not falling apart at the seams. Acting like your divorce papers did not lay on your kitchen table as you stood there.

You awkwardly exchanged casualties with each of his coworkers. Explaining how he had a big case he was working on and that’s why you were here all alone. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as person after person gave you an awkward look when you told them work was more important to your husband. Pity written on all of their faces.

Unable to bare the embarrassment any longer, you walked over to the open bar they had set up. Getting some of your favorite liquor mixed with your favorite soda to sip on. Hoping the alcohol would soothe your nerves. Observing as everyone else mingled happily. Wondering why your husband left you out of most gatherings with his coworkers. Maybe if he cared more you would be more comfortable with all these people.

“Y/N?”

A familiar voice broke you from your spiraling thoughts. The only of Peter’s coworkers you were familiar with: Mark Hoffman. He always seemed to be the one lingering late alongside your husband. Sometimes when you would wait at the station for Peter to be done, Mark would keep you company. Something that always enraged your husband. You had known Mark for quite sometime. Casually texting from time to time. Mindless compliments coming from him when he would notice you changed your hair or got your nails done. Always sending you some kind of gift on your birthday, a day you would often spend alone seeing as your husband valued work over you.

“Hi, Mark,” you smiled.

“What’re you doing here all alone?” He raised an eyebrow looking around for your husband. Making himself a drink as he stood next to you. The smell of his cologne taking over your senses. Had he always been this attractive?

“Well. Peter is out with his real wife right now,” you joked. Mark looked perplexed. “That stupid Jigsaw Case. He’s been more committed to that than he’s been to me our entire marriage,” you solemnly laughed.

“I honestly thought you’d be down there with him,” you folded your arms over your chest.

“Your husband isn’t exactly a huge fan of mine,” Mark sipped at the cup in his hand.

“I’m starting to think he isn’t of me either,” you sighed. Pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. Mark side eyed you while you were not looking.

“Trouble in paradise?”

You snorted. “Paradise? Please. Closest thing I’ve came to paradise is a little purple bullet in my bed side drawer. Let’s just say, he’s got a surprise on the table for him when he gets home. If he ever comes home again.” Mark chuckled.

“Well, I hope he realizes what a good thing he’s losing,” Mark looked around the room while sipping his drink. Your face burned with his words. His nonchalant compliment pooling inside you. You stared at him. Taking an interest in his thick hands. How they made the red solo cup look small. Wandering to his broad chest. How it rose and fell with each deep breath he took.

“Are you normally this obvious when you undress people with your eyes?”

You awkwardly laughed at getting caught checking him out. Your hand rubbed your neck trying to cool yourself.

“Don’t worry. I’ve been doing the same thing,” Mark smirked. You shot a look over at him. Catching his deep blue eyes with yours. Seeing how they stared at the small about of breast revealed by your low cut collar. You poked at his nose, leading his eyes up to yours. His soft eyes stared into yours now.

“You wanna do a shot with me?”

Mark blinked at your question. Watching as you grabbed the most expensive bottle of tequila from the table, pouring both of you a shot. You held the small glass out to him. Smugness written on your face as Mark hesitantly took it from you. You took your glass between your lips, taking the shot back without your hands. Giving Mark a sort of spectacle to watch. He sucked his teeth as he finished his shot. The sight of you with your lips wrapped around the glass sending his mind into a frenzy. “Fuck,” he thought.

Mark leaned his lips into your ear, “Bet you’d look real pretty choking around my cock.”

Arousal flooded your body. Your heartbeat speeding up in your chest. You smiled as you turned to meet his gaze. Pushing him away in a flirtatious way, red cheeks decorating your skin. He smiled watching you get completely flustered over him.

“Is that normally how you get women to fuck you?” You teased, pulling at his tie.

“I’ll do whatever if it means you will fuck me,” he emphasized that you were what he wanted. You thought back on all the late nights you had shared. Pieces of some things you had previously thought were innocent falling into a more sexual light.

You took another swig of your drink. The alcohol beginning to blend together with the drink. Your cheeks buzzing as the alcohol finally settled there. Your finger traced his jaw, settling with a quick tap against the tip of his nose. Mark’s hooded eyes cut through you like a blade. You began walking into a vacant hallway where no other party goers were. Mark followed closely behind you into the dim lit hall.

Mark pinned you against the wall in the hallway. Both of you flirtatiously giggling. His hand rested above your head on the wall, your back meeting the chill of drywall. Eyes locked together. Smiles written across both of you. Your hands playing with his tie, his other hand resting on his hip. Leaned down posture so that you were nose to nose.

“Oh, come on. Just come home with me,” Mark grinned. Pink cheeks from the alcohol he had been sipping. You smiled, rolling your eyes at his pleas.

“Peter will kill me,” you whispered.

“He doesn’t have to know,” Mark leaned down planting his lips on yours. You melted into him, hands sprawled against his broad chest.

“I can’t…”

“I’ll show you a better night than he ever could have,” Mark took your lip between his teeth. Chills trickling down your skin. You pushed your lips back into his. Tongues exploring each other’s mouths with desperation. Hands gripped your waist like someone was trying to pull you away from him. Nails digging into his skin as you desperately held onto him.

His hands began roaming your body. One finding its place gripping your ass, pulling your fronts even closer together. The other tangling in your hair and loosely around your neck. “I’ll take you down and fuck you in Strahm’s office if it means I can have you,” Mark grumbled between kisses. The idea of you getting fucked by another man in front of your soon-to-be ex husband fluttering in your loins. You wrapped his tie around your hand, pulling at his collar.

“Let’s call a cab,” you whispered.

Mark grinned. Interlocking fingers with you and taking you out the side exit. Waving down a cab and giving the driver his address. Unable to keep his hands off you the entire ride. Half drunk kisses being planted on your neck. Fingers traced the lining of your panties through your dress. He paid the driver and practically yanked you out of the cab. Holding onto your hand tightly as he pulled you into the elevator. Lips finding yours as his hips pinned you against the wall of the elevator. Hands gripping at your chest like a hungry animal. His name a soft moan on your lips. Tugging you out of the elevator when the doors dinged open. Desperate hands struggling with the key to his apartment. Your arms wrapped around him from behind, fingers ghosting over his erection.

Click.

Finally, getting the door unlocked. Leading you into the dimly lit room. A lamp that had been left on illuminating the space. Mark came up behind you, helping you out of your coat. Hanging it on the rack next to his door. Such a simple, yet kind gesture. Feeling his hands wrap around you. Nose brushing against your neck, plump lips pressing tender kisses into your skin.

“What do you wanna do?” Mark innocently asked against your ear.

You stared forward at the covered windows. Still scanning around his apartment. You sighed, “Whatever you want.”

You felt his lips morph into a grin against your neck. Still pecking kisses along your jugular. His hands roamed against your thighs. Softly gripping the skin close to your core. Massaging your flesh, pulling you flush against his front. His other hand drifted up your torso, taking your throat in his grasp. Kissing your jawline. Callused hands squeezed your soft neck.

Heavy breaths fell along your skin as Mark’s hands found their way down your dress. Pinching at your nipples through your bra. Your head fell back into the crook of his neck. Lips falling against your cheek in several quick kisses.

Grabbing you and spinning you around to face him, Mark’s expression was dark. A soft smile barely written on his face as he leaned in and kissed you. You ran your hands up his chest, fingers sprawled out. Broad chest heaving with each heavy breath. Fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt as he watched you.

Mark took your hand in his, leading you through his dark hallway down to his bedroom. Turning on the soft lamp in the corner of the room. Hands finding their place on your waist again. Lips falling onto yours. Kissing back and forth softer than before. Your hands tangled in his hair keeping his lips close to yours. Pulling low grunts from Mark when you would accidentally pull his hair a little harder.

Mark lead you onto the edge of his bed. Laying you on your back as he stood completely up. Large hands pushing your dress up to reveal your lacy thong to him. His tongue came out to wet his lip. Seeing how you had already soaked through the soft material. Kneeling down to be directly in front of your entrance.

“Does he ever make you cum?” Mark’s dark eyes looked up at you from your clothed core.

You laughed shallowly. “Not really… when we do now, it’s quick so that he can get to bed. If he’s even willing,” you admitted. Mark rolled his eyes. A distasteful look on his face. Clearly angry at your ex-husband.

“What kind of man does he even think he is?” Mark’s finger outlined your wet core through your panties, “Can’t even make his girl finish? Doesn’t even care to try… what a joke.” Hot air of his words glazed over your skin. Flattening his tongue against your entrance. Causing you to arch your back further into his mouth. A wicked smirk written on his face.

“Let me take care of you,” he growled at you. Fingers curling around your pantyline and pulling them down your legs. Putting them somewhere out of your sight not telling you he hid them for himself. Staring at your dripping entrance completely entranced by the sight. Propping your legs over each of his shoulders, large hangs gripping the back of your thighs.

Mark kitten licked at your throbbing nub. Sending goosebumps throughout your body. Delving fully into you, his tongue penetrating your hole. Lips deciding to attach to your clit, sucking it into his mouth. One of his fingers coming up and finding its place inside you. Curling and pumping perfectly between your folds.

You swear nothing had ever felt this good in your life. Deep blue eyes peered up at you as he worked you. Feeling how you would spasm occasionally when he’d hit that perfect spot. Coaxing you closer and closer to your finish. The coil inside you sprang loose as you fluttered around his finger. Hips pushing up into his mouth as you rode out your orgasm on his face. “So fucking good,” you were a babbling mess as your entire body quivered. Mark smiled, pulling away from your core. His chin covered in your juices. Tongue coming out to taste you on himself.

Mark crawled on the bed with you. Lips kissing their way up your body. Stopping to suck on your nipple momentarily. Before stopping at your ear.

“You want more?”

“I need more.”

“Need? Desperate whore aren’t you?”

You nodded your head. Your face completely flushed. Mark pressed his groin into yours. Grinding his erection on your core through his pants. Collecting you on the front of the slacks. He groaned above you at the feeling. Pulling away and propping himself back on his knees. Undoing his belt with desperate hands. Shimming off his slacks revealing his pitched tent in his boxers. His erect cock causing your mouth to water at the sight. Mark palmed himself through his boxers, hooded eyes meeting yours.

Lips meeting under your ear, “You look so pretty when you cum.” Chills danced down your skin with his low tone. Heartbeat ringing in your ears as your chest heaved for air. He gently kissed you. Hands guiding you up. Helping you remove your dress over your head. The only garment on your body being your bra now. Wide palms splayed across your back as his eyes latched onto your exposed breasts. Feeling him reach for the clasp of your bra. Undoing it and pulling it down your arms. Toothy grin painting his expression. Hand reaching to grasp your soft tissue. Fingers rolling your nipples. Moans and whimpers poured from you.

Your hand roamed to his crotch. Fingers tracing up his erection. Mark’s body rutted at the sudden sensation. Blue eyes leaving your chest and locking into yours. You blushed at his strong stare. Pressing your lips into his neck. Teeth sinking into his skin as you began stroking him. His eyes squinted shut. Brows pressed together as he savored the feeling of your hand and lips on him. “Need to fuck you,” he exhaled his jaw tightening.

Pinning you down onto the mattress, Mark towered over you. Shimming his boxers off. Cock springing up. Lewdly smacking him in the stomach. Your jaw hung open at the sight of him. Thick, head swollen and leaking, vein twisting along the side, thick hair decorating the skin above it. Unable to stop yourself from comparing him to your ex-husband.

Mark grinned seeing you gawking at his member. “Like what you see?”

You nodded aggressively. Feeling drool pooling inside your mouth. Needing him more than ever. Hand gripping his base, toying with your entrance. Swirling the tip in your folds, barely dipping in. Causing you to throw your head back in pure ecstasy. The way just the head stretched you had you begging for more.

“Mark,” you pleaded, “I need it. Need you inside me so bad.”

Mark smirked. Dipping himself deeper inside your folds. You bucked against him attempting to force him deeper. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Mark leaned down kissing you tenderly, “Peter fucking Strahm… never deserved someone as good as you. Not for one goddamn minute. I’ll take care of you the way he was never able to.” He completed sheathing himself inside you as he gritted his teeth. Hate for his coworker spewing from his tongue.

Pulling himself back so he could see your face before pounding into you. Hips cracking into yours as he found himself at a ruthless pace. Your back arched as the curve of his cock hit somewhere inside you just right. Mark panted above you as he fucked you. His name a chant from your lips. Tits bouncing with the force of him.

“Dirty fucking girl. Letting me fuck you while your husband is off at work?” Mark moaned above you feeling your walls contort around him momentarily. Senses still in overdrive from your first orgasm. Knowing it would not take long at this pace for another to wash over you. Mark knew just how to get you there.

Mark’s head fell back. Thrusts falling out of rhythm. You were completely lost around his cock. Taking the best fuck of your entire life. Your fingernails dug into his back as you felt your orgasm approaching. Feeling your sensitive insides begin to tighten up preparing for the end.

You attempted to form words. Unable to say anything but his name over and over again.

“What is it, baby? Gonna cum for me again? Yeah, that’s it,” he began talking you through your finish as his finger found its place on your clit. Circling it softly to coax you over the edge. Your entire body began shaking as you came undone around his cock. Walls fluttering around his girth. Like your body tried sucking him further in. “That’s my girl, cumming around my cock. Fuck,” his lip quivered as he felt himself approaching his own finish. Head falling into the crook of your neck, panting breaths sticking to you. Sweat gleaming off both of you as Mark rammed into you.

“He never made you feel this fucking good. Strahm. That pathetic motherfucker. Keeping you away from me all this time,” Mark bit down on your neck. Licking and kissing the tender skin. Your walls clamped down on him with each brutal snap of hips. Your hands tangled in his hair feeling him grown sloppy.

“Fuck, yes, Mark,” you called out to him, “Cum inside me, please.”

Hips held their place flush against yours as he shot up inside you. Feeling how his cock twitched inside you. His hot seed coated your insides. His body slumped onto yours. He panted hard on top of you. Your hands petting down his back. Both of you lost in the feeling.

“You’re perfect,” Mark whispered softly. Remaining inside you. Loving how you felt around his sensitive member. Silently enjoying each other. Both of you breathing heavily. Savoring the afterglow.

Tiredness washed over you. Your body being worked perfectly. The warmth of the body on top of you engulfing you.

“Can I stay here tonight?”

Mark looked up at you. A certain softness you had yet to see on him. “Of course you can.”

The two of you nuzzled up in his bed together. Tangled in each other’s arms. Feeling a safety you had not felt in a long time. Drifting off into a slumber in his arms…

… Mark woke up around his usual time. Slipping away into the kitchen to make himself a pot of coffee. It was still the wee hours of the morning. The sun had yet to rise.

He hears a buzzing coming from the coat rack. Going over and pulling your phone out of your coat pocket.

“Hello?” Mark answered your phone.

“Who the hell is— Mark?! Where the fuck is my wife?!” Peter shouted into the phone.

“Are you seriously just now realizing you lost your wife? It’s nearly 5 in the morning—” Mark snarked at him.

“You son of a bitch— I’ll kill you! I swear to God, I will fucking kill you!” Peter’s vein on his neck bulged with aggression.

“Threatening an officer of the law? Better calm down before I report this, Strahm,” Mark smirked. Staring at your sleeping body in his bed, in his apartment, wrapped in his blanket.

“Oh-ho, you seriously have the balls to try with MY wife? I’m gonna kick your ass, Hoffman. I swear to God, I will fuck you up!”

“I didn’t try anything. She will come home when she’s ready,” Mark clicked off the call. Snickering to himself knowing Peter probably threw his phone through a wall and was flipping shit over this situation. He crawled back into bed with you, wrapping you up in his warm embrace.

“Mark?” you half asleep mumbled to him.

“Yeah, baby. It’s me,” he kissed your head. You nuzzled into him. Feeling deep comfort in him.

~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! I had a really great time writing this fic and I’m very proud of it. As always, my inbox is always open so feel free to drop a request in there. I hope to write more for Mark Hoffman soon //

{tags}

@iwmflbb ~ @mrshoffman ~ @mrsmandylor ~ @heif ~

[noceurous]

lights, camera, action

your boyfriend gets his hands on a handycam, later on you

warnings: mentions of divorce, mentions infidelity, Dave’s family is also mentioned, some self-doubt and angst, looots of feelings (sorry idk what took over me ehehe), swearing, smut: fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), p-in-v sex, slapping, daddy kink, usage of various nicknames (baby, darling, etc) minors dni (18+) reader is able bodied + has some length of hair + afab.

a/n: my birthday is officially on 10th of september, but this fic turned out to be longer than i expected, so i said post it with a fic you feel good.

a/n2: this fic takes place in the same universe with [take the heat away, make the girl stay] but they can be read separately.

Carol was a really nice woman after the divorce.

It was nice of her to call you a homewrecker, among many other names.

It was nice of her to fill Molly and Alice’s heads with wrong ideas about you.

It was nice of her to call Dave in the middle of your date and tell him that he’ll come back crawling back to her after he’s done with you. just like the girls before and made sure you heard it.

Lastly, it was nice for Carol to send all of his belongings to your tiny apartment. You didn’t even know how she got your address. Just after a simple ring of the doorbell, you were standing between piles of light brown boxes.

“Shit, did she really do that too?” Dave asked over the phone as you stood inside the labyrinth made of boxes.

“Yep, what’s left of your relationship is now inside my living room.” You said as you eyed over the boxes. Trying to find out if your relationship was enough to fill one box.

“They’re mostly clothes, family photos and Father’s Day gifts. There is nothing left of the relationship.” You were familiar with the last sentence. Dave used that to reassure you during the beginning of your relationship. 

He also used that sentence to girls, and Carol. When any one of them accused you of breaking them up.

“Yeah, probably. I’m gonna take a shower. When will you be back?”

“Fifteen minutes tops. Do you want anything?”

“No, just you.” His chest hurt when he heard how your voice cracked before you ended the phone call.

He hated Carol when she did that. Blaming you for everything went wrong in the marriage. Taking her anger out on you, when in truth you came into him long after he decided on a divorce.

—

“Darling? I’m home.” He didn’t hear your reply, but the water sound came from the bathroom.

He took off his long coat, his keys still in his hand when he walked towards the living room. Greeted with a pile of boxes. He couldn’t imagine how you felt when a box after a box came into your place. He would call Carol again, but he knew pretty well whatever he said to stop her, just would fuel Carol’s anger.

He raised his key, slashing and opening one right through the tape with it.

Fake plastic trophy of being the Best Dad Ever, broken hand painted coffee mugs, a photograph in a frame from Alice’s first soccer game. 

He went through some of the boxes more. As he assumed they were mostly clothes and stuff related to girls. Mainly photo albums which were half empty since Carol only sent him photos he was included. Nothing more.

When he was going over his last box, something silver at the corner of the box caught his eye. When he took it out, he was greeted with an old handycam.

“No way.” He smiled as he took it out. Shocked when he found out it was still charged.

He heard your footsteps when you came towards him, wrapped a towel around your body and another one around your head.

“What is that?” You walked towards him, the scent of your shower gel filling his nostrils.

Orchids.

“That’s my old handy-cam. Got stuck between stuff, still works.”

He explained as he checked if there were any pre saved videos. He remembered using it for Alice’s school plays and Molly’s soccer practice. Half remembering that he already saved them to Carol’s computer.

He pressed on the record button, when he saw the red blinking light he raised the camera to you.

“What are you doing!” You chuckled, covering your face.

“Recording my lovely girlfriend.”

“I’m in a towel.” He shrugged, still keeping the camera on you.

“That’s better.” He said as he zoomed on your legs, slowly lifting the camera to your body. “Don’t be shy. Camera loves you.”

“Is it the camera? Or is it my horny boyfriend?”

“Both. Give me something baby, come on.” You rolled your eyes, blew a kiss and winked at the camera.

“That’s better.” He said as he placed his hand on your towel, raising an eyebrow.

Before you could understand his next move, he tugged the towel down, watching it pool around your ankles.

“Dave!” You protested, hands covering your breasts.

“Don’t be shy honey. This is just for me. Show it to me.” You huffed, placing your hands at your waist. Sticking out your chest more as he pointed the camera at your breasts, recording every inch for you.

He licked his lips at your sight. “I’m a lucky bastard aren’t I?”

“Try the luckiest.”

He chuckled, motioning you to the couch. “Take a seat.” You rolled your eyes, swinging your ass as you walked towards the couch. You knew he was zooming in there.

He whistled, “That’s my girl” as he followed you. Sitting further from you on the coffee table. “Open your legs for me, come on.” The sight of your glistening pussy was on camera, Dave’s hand was slightly shook, blurring the view for a second. He tried to play it like he was affected less from the sight of you than he actually was. 

“Hmm, you’re wet baby.” You smirked at the camera, slowly nodding. “Who made you this wet?”

“You did.” You pressed your fingers on your lips, spreading them to show him your swollen clit covered in your silk. “See? It’s all for you.”

He felt his pants tighten, he didn’t even find the time to take off his tie since he got back. Now you were standing all naked for him, showing off your perfect body. And he had too much clothes on to feel you on his skin.

“Be a good girl, play with yourself for me. But don’t cum.” He said as he slowly placed the camera on the coffee table. Angling it to the perfect angle.

Your eyes were looking into his eyes, as he clicked his tongue pointing at the camera. “Eyes on the camera baby.” You swallowed down your whimper. Thumb pressed onto your clit, feeling your walls clench around nothing.

You pushed a finger inside you, moaning at your wetness. You closed your eyes, for a second, your other hand was on the cushion, grasping it tightly.

You started moving your finger, in and out, playing with your clit then back in. “Open your eyes.” You opened them, seeing Dave in front of you, behind the camera.

He was naked, his cock in his hand, slowly pumping himself. You could tell he was rock hard, it was painful for him not to touch you. “See what you’re doing to me?” You gulped, nodding quickly.

“Add another finger.” You did as he said, your toes curled, walls clenching around your fingers. You didn’t have to look down to know your juices were dripping down on your couch, making a mess.

You continued to finger yourself slowly, eyes locked on the red light on the camera. You could feel you were close to reaching your orgasm, trying to hold it as long as possible.

Your whimpers filled his ears, his eyes locked at the way your naked chest came up and down. Each second it became harder for him to not feel you on his skin. You were a sight for his sore eyes, all he carved for his life.

“Show me.” He said as he knelt between your legs. You took your fingers out of your pussy, the wet sound of it crying made both of you moan.

Your fingers were glistening with your juices, you took them inside your mouth, sucking off your juices.

His warm breath fanning your weeping pussy. He quickly hooked your legs on his shoulders. Diving into your pussy, drinking your juices right from your core. 

Your body trembled as his warm tongue touched you. Drawing long strokes with the tip of his tongue. “Oh Fuck!” You said as your hand went back to cushion. Supporting yourself as Dave continued to lick over your folds aggressively. 

He raised his face, his lips and chin covered with your juices. The corner of his lips raised into a smirk. “You taste so good.” He said before he dove back in. Sucking down your clit.

You smirked at the camera, hand going to your breast. “Fuck! Dave! You are so good!” You pinched down your swollen nipple. Pulling him closer to your core by pressing your ankles on his back.

He pushed a finger inside you, eyes pointed up to your blissed face. You were looking right at the camera just like he told you. His pretty girl always followed his orders without making him give them twice.

“Fuck!Fuck!Fuck!” You were chanting out as he was brutally fucking you with his finger. His lips on your thigh, kissing along the soft flesh, pressing his teeth on your inner thigh.

He pushed another finger inside. “Are you going to cum?” You looked down at him, eagerly nodding.

“May I? Please daddy, I’ve been so close.” He chuckled, curling his fingers inside you. Earning a loud moan from you. “Please.”

Who was he to deny you from pleasure?

“Cum for me.” He said as he sucked your clit once more, fingers still moving inside you. Your body shook when he brushed along your sweet spot. Pads of his fingers pressing on it just right. “Fu—“ Your body jolted backwards, your mind went blank as the white pleasure surrounded your body.

You were panting heavily, as he got up between your legs slowly, his hand wrapped around his cock. Fingers shining with your juices. Your mouth watered with the sight. You wanted him. You wanted more.

With the dark look in his eyes, you knew he wanted the same. “Get on the floor. On your hands and knees.”

You got in the position like he asked, shaking your ass a little when you got on your knees. He slapped you harshly causing you to fall on your hands. Your lips parted, showing him one of his favorite views; your ass in the air, your hole greedily waiting for him.

He pressed his tip on your entrance, “Look at the camera, don’t close your eyes, or I’ll stop.” You knew this was more of a statement than a threat. Before you could say something he gradually pushed himself inside of you, letting go of his breath when he reached your limit. His cock twitched inside you when your walls welcomed him inside.

“Oh.” You moaned at feeling full, still sore from his fingers. Your pussy greedily accepting him, already addict to the sweet pain.

He could see your glossy, lustful gaze thanks to the camera. Cursing himself for not thinking this sooner. Not thinking of saving these moments of you. Not starting saving anything he could save from you.

He placed his hands on your waist. Getting his momentum as his hips started slapping against your ass, not wasting any time with being gentle. Today was not one of his gentle, love making days. He needed you. He needed to take what was his.

He was not having a great time at work. Now he also had to handle Carol and stop her from attacking you.

He had to protect you and he had no objection to that. If it was allowed, he would tear up the limbs of anyone who dared to hurt you. It does not have to be physical abusive, just a simple word was enough to get him violent. There was nothing in this world that would stop him to protect you.

You were his purpose in life, his guiding light.

“Please.”

Your crying voice turned him back to reality, his eyes snapped back to the camera from your shaking ass. Your eyes teared from pleasure, thin layer of sweat covering your cheeks.

“Yes?”

“Please cum inside me. I missed feeling your cum inside. I’ve been empty for days.”

He had some stuff to take care of in Denmark. Unfortunately his little business trip took longer than he expected. So all you were able to do were some quick calls and exchanging text messages. Whispers of “I miss you” were exchanged as you bit your tongue not to say “I love you” too soon.

“Baby…” He said, getting faster than before, chasing his pleasure. You moaned, when he pushed in a bit too hard. Your hand stopped you from falling forward. Forehead almost hit the coffee table.

He cursed his ignorance, wrapping his arm around your neck, leaning over figure. He pressed his lips on your sweet spot behind your ear, feeling your body tremble between his arms. He nudged your temple with the tip of his nose, taking in your smell.

“I’ve got you.” He whispered, eyes locked with yours on the screen.

“You look so good, baby. I feel how you tighten around me, you want to cum again don’t you?”

“Yes, please.”

“You want me to make you?”

“Ye—yes...” His hand went to your clit from your waist, flicking it rapidly. “F—fuck! D—dave!”

“Go on, come all over my cock baby! Fuck you’re milking me so good.” He slapped your ass, grabbing a handful of the soft flesh before whispering to the shell of your ear. “You want me to cum inside don’t you? Fill you right to the brim?”

He groaned at how your walls tighten around him with your question. “Yes! Fuck yes! Please fill me up. I’ll do anything, please.” He sucked a bruise your neck, his hot breath from his nose fanning on your throat.

“If you really want to…” He said as he spurted out his cum inside you, pressing down on your swollen clit. Holding your body with his arm still wrapped around your neck as it trembled with your orgasm.

“Dave!” Your voice shook as you tried to keep yourself up. Feeling his hot cum spill inside you. He turned your head to the side, smashing his lips to yours. You moaned into the kiss, opening your mouth for his tongue to enter. Your salty taste on his tongue as he sucked yours.

Taking everything you offered to him.

He slowly took himself out, some of his cum spilled out from your hole. He tsked, gathering them with his fingers and pushing them back in. You hissed with the contact, looking over your shoulder to him.

“I’ll send someone tomorrow, to take care of the boxes. I don’t want you to worry about them.” You nodded, as he lied down next to you. Pulling your naked body to lie on his naked chest. You buried your head on his chest, kissing right above where his heart his.

You took the camera from the table, stopping the recording. You smiled at the video, thinking how better you looked than you guessed.

“Like a true temptress.” Dave said, as he buried his nose in your hair, his fingers drawing circles on your upper arm.

“Can I keep a copy as well?”

“Anything you want darling.” He said as he kissed you, slowly moving you to his lap between kisses. “Anything for you.”

—

The next morning Dave’s men came to collect the boxes. And Carol had an anonymous email in her inbox with no subject.

It was a small photo where Dave was eating you out. When she scrolled down, she saw your text added underneath.

Mine, back off.

Needless to say, the email disappeared a few minutes later it was read, without leaving any trace.

—

please provide comments/reblogs if you liked this fic. they always mean a lot 💙

[apomaro-mellow]

The Road to You 1/? Read on AO3

Another one from the steddie fic adoption community!

A lot of things happen after beating the Upside Down for good. Somehow the most surprising part of it all for Steve is becoming Eddie's roadie.

“They’re singing about infidelity, Stevennnn.”

“Play the tape again and actually listen to it. They’re singing about how they’re not gonna cheat.”

Eddie was laid up in a hospital bed. The stereo was seated on the table next him and Steve in the chair next to the bed. Robin was in a chair at the far end, her feet propped up onto the edge of the bed. All three of them were eating jello.

“They said they’d marry this chick if they were free. What d’you make of that?”

“IF they were free. IF”, Steve said, finger wagging to make his point. “They wanna marry Girl #1 but they’re gonna stay loyal to Girl #2, their wife.”

“See, it’s the fact you think this hussy they’re singing to is Girl #1. Why isn’t Girl #1 the wife? Pretty reductive if you ask me, wouldn’t you agree, Bucks?”

Robin snorted. “You just called one of them a hussy, so I’d find that pretty reductive. If we really wanna get into it, let’s talk about the women in this song. One’s living in a loveless marriage and the other’s got this guy pining after her, basically telling her, he’d leave his wife for her.”

“It’s Bay City Rollers, you guys. It’s not supposed to be a sad song”, Steve said.

“Copacabana is an upbeat song and it’s the saddest story I’ve ever heard”, Robin said while Eddie nodded in agreement.

Steve threw his hands up and his eyes went to the sky. “What’s sad about Copacabana? You literally can’t sing it without dancing.”

“Steeeve Harrington dancing to Barry Manilow? This I gotta see”, Eddie said, searching through the tapes that were sitting by his legs. 

“Don’t have the tape, but apparently Steve knows all the words”, Robin grinned.

“Don’t challenge me with a good time Robin”, Steve said. “It’s about a club in Havana.”

“It’s about what happens IN that club. Go ahead”, Robin urged. “Start from the part about Rico.”

Steve hummed the tune, starting from the first chorus. “~His name was Rico~He wore a diamond~” He mumbled through more of it, shimmying a little in his chair as he went through the song. “Hm~hm~called her over~But Rico went a bit to far~Tony sailed across the bar…holy shit.”

“You get it yet?”, Eddie grinned.

“Tony got shot!”

“That’s not something you’d like to hear in a hospital”, Dr. Hudson said. She came to the empty side of Eddie’s bed.

Eddie might’ve thought twice about letting himself be bat bait if he knew how much recovery he’d need. He’d still do it, but he’d at least give it a second thought. Doing so meant two weeks in a coma, extensive surgery and another two weeks basically strapped to a bed after that. And of course, in all that time, he was banned from eating all the things that made him happy. All his nutrients were from a tube. Today was the first time they let him eat anything solid in a whole month.

Steve and Robin got out of the way for his check up. They weren’t expecting much of a change. Eddie was healing, but it would be slow. Steve still had to change his bandages. He could go longer without a change than he needed weeks ago, but still, his sides were fragile. Every time he visited Eddie, he was shown how much worse it could have been had he and the others not arrived in time to save him.

Life had gone back to a weird sort of normal for Hawkins after beating Vecna. An earthquake explained away everything but people still left and there were plenty who still stayed in shelters, having been displaced from their homes. School held out for the rest of April, but it was decided that since the senior graduation was set for May, they may as well let out the schools then, just to have more space for the people living in the gym of Hawkins High. Doing this would also open up the middle school for shelter space too.

No one had brought up graduation around Eddie. Steve and Robin talked about it a lot, mostly to help her work through what she was going to do after. She’d been accepted to three colleges. But fall seemed so far away and she couldn’t imagine leaving Hawkins right now. Especially when Steve himself didn’t seem to have any plans.

Family Video had been miraculously spared from the damage. They’d quit in unison anyway. It all just seemed so trivial in the aftermath. Robin had asked what Steve was going to do once she went off to college. He’d given her a joke of an answer but she knew how to read between the lines. She knew he had no plans beyond what he did each day. And that worried her. Made her feel like if she left, he’d fall apart.

Sometimes it felt like the two of them against the world. If that was true, maybe he wouldn’t be opposed to following her to college? The idea seemed novel, almost romantic, and it would definitely give people the wrong idea but she didn’t care.

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

After dropping Robin off, Steve got to his house. He could hear his mother’s heels clicking on the wooden floors and her berating someone before he even opened the door. He sighed before opening it just in time to see her slam the phone back onto the hook.

“Unbelievable!”, she said to herself, hands on her hips before she realized Steve was home. Then she turned the conversation towards him. “Well we can’t sell the house. The market is in shambles.”

“The inspector said our house is fine though, right?”, Steve asked.

“No one will buy a house in a town of murders! That Munson boy has ruined what little dignity Hawkins had.” She shook her head. “We’ve always been too good for this town and now we can’t leave.”

“What about the cabin?”

“Steven, that’s a vacation home. It’s not meant to be a permanent residence.” She sighed just as Steve’s father came downstairs, loosening his tie.

“Sounds like bad news from the realtor.”

“I’m not taking that price. I’ll burn this house down with all of us in it before I take that insult!”, his mother shouted, walking off and into the living room. His dad followed, already starting to soothe her.

Steve headed straight to the kitchen. Jello could only satisfy one so much. He could hear his parents talking, but not make out the words. He stopped mentioning how lucky they were to still have their house, to be alive, and that Eddie wasn’t responsible for any of this. His parents didn’t care about any of that. He made two quick sandwiches, grabbed a bag of chips and a soda and disappeared into his room, lest his father ask about his job prospects again.

Standing behind a counter again didn’t sound appealing. And he knew his dad was getting to the point where he might just give him a job, but standing behind a desk wasn’t what he wanted either. Steve didn’t know what he wanted. He knew what he liked. He knew what made him happy. Somehow, talking to Eddie almost everyday became one of those things. But no one was paying him to talk to his friends.

But for now, spring would be turning into summer soon. Steve could focus on that, Eddie’s recovery, Robin’s college prep, and helping turn the freshies into sophomores. The Upside Down was gone, all the monsters were dead and all his friends were alive. Life couldn’t throw anymore curveballs his way. Right?

Part 2

[percywinchester27]

The new Mrs. Winchester (22)

Word count: 3.3K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Chapter warnings: Implications of sexual abuse, mentions of torture, PTSD, angst, flesh trade, language, mention of violence and murder; reader discretion is strongly advised. This chapter has fluff and feels though ;)

Series Summary: After spending over two years in captivity, and enduring assault, torture, and degradation of every kind, Y/N is finally sold off to the highest bidder. But when the deal is masked as a hushed marriage to a wealthy and powerful man, Y/N knows it means a few more nights of brutal torment ending in certain death. After all, why else would a man like him, want someone like her, except to fulfill desires so depraved that they would require owning a person. However, the Winchester mansion has mysteries of its own, woven in lies, betrayal, and death. Smack in the middle of it, she finds both hope and a home, in the person she least expected to find it with. But when it comes down to it, will she be able to save the thing that matters the most?

A/N: Slightly delayed, but hope you find the chapter worth it ;)

Beta: My darling, @deanssweetheart23

The new Mrs. Winchester masterlist

“Where are we going?” Y/N asked for the fifth time, but with a smile on her face, as if she knew she wouldn’t get an answer

And she wouldn’t.

Sam simply smirked and pressed on the pedal, hitting the gas. The Impala purred underneath him, and Y/N sighed contentedly beside him.

“This is a sweet fucking ride,” she said.

“That it is,” Sam agreed. “But don’t get used to it. Dean usually doesn’t let his Baby out of sight.”

“So how come we’re riding in it now?”

Sam could have pointed out the obvious– that Dean adored her, that he wanted his Chewie to meet his Baby– but instead, he found himself saying, “Dean’s travelling to a different state. Hates flying, but it’s better this way. I bet he’s sleeping uneasily somewhere knowing I’m behind the wheel.”

Y/N leaned against the side. “You were right, he is a brave man.”

“Mhmm…” Sam voiced a curiosity that he had kept to himself for a while. “How did you even become friends with him?”

She bit her bottom lip, softly, guiltily. Sam had to kill the urge to reach out and bite it himself. Y/N must know she was gorgeous, and she most certainly knew now that Sam was attracted to her… but if only she guessed that a simple smile from her could derange Sam. That he had writhed in hotel beds for hours over how she looked in that one violet, fitted gown. 

He’d kissed her, more than once now, but each time he so much as remembered her taste, he lost the ability to think. 

“I… I sneaked out of the house one night,” she admitted. “I saw our picture in the papers and… I wanted to get out. He found me in the forest. We’ve been friends since. I light a lantern and put it on the sill. He says he can see it from the cabin he’d lodged in.”

“The one up the stream?” Sam remembered going there once or twice when Dean taught him fishing. The place was broken, damp and plain uninhabitable. 

“I wouldn’t know,” she shrugged. Y/N wore the same three blouses in rotation. Sam remembered this one from their evening in the old horse shed, when he’d first felt her body against his. Her eyes dipped down to her entwined fingers. “You aren’t mad at me?”

“Mad at you? Why?”

“I sneaked out to meet a man in the middle of the night? Like some Harlot?”

Sam had to laugh at that, and then some more. 

“You’re laughing!” But some of the guilt had left her face.

“Of course I am!” He eased on the pedal. “It’s not infidelity if you’re not in a relationship. And in any case, if you ran out, that would be on me… because I had done something to upset you. Now, if you had run into someone else, that would’ve been a problem. Can’t trust anyone around here.”

“I wouldn’t have made friends with anyone else,” she muttered, eyes narrowed.

Sam laughed once more.

“What now?” She was biting her lip again, amused. Sam looked away.

“You called yourself a harlot,” he said, a smile cracking. “You weren’t even a harlot for me when you were supposed to be.” Oh, Sam remembered very clearly how she always held her own, wielding her dignity like a blade but also donning it like an armour. She’d never given Sam leeway with how he treated her.

Y/N got a speculative look in her eyes, and Sam realised he really should be paying more attention to the road, but then she said, “I kissed you first.”

Sam slammed the breaks, and the car cruised to the shoulder of the road. He took his time, turning the engine off and then turned to look at her. “I have wanted to kiss you from the second I saw that picture… before you even knew I existed. And I’ve wanted to do a lot more things to you than just kiss you.”

It felt great to finally admit it… to her, to himself and to the universe. The words had been cutting his throat, leaving him bleeding on the inside. But after saying them out loud, it barely made any sense to keep his hands to himself and so Sam touched her… he touched her face, her lips, fingers trailing down to her shoulders over the thin white fabric and further down to her waist, then slipping under the fabric to feel her smooth skin. His other hand still held her face, and he gently bit on her lower lip. She wanted this, she wanted him… why on earth would he not do what he wanted?

Y/N kissed him back furiously, bracing herself against the Impala’s door to hold on to him, taste him like she would never get to kiss him again. 

“Remind me why we are parked along a road in the middle of nowhere when we could be in bed right now?” She whispered throatily against his cheek, catching her breath, and Sam was reminded of the reason with an excitement in his gut. 

He pulled back reluctantly, but grinning all the same. “Because I’ve got something better.”

As Sam pulled the car back on the road, he almost missed her sigh and murmured ‘doubtful’, but then again he didn’t and it made all the difference. But Sam knew that she was to be proven wrong, and in less than half an hour, the Impala cruised through the open gates of Hill-Mount Academy. 

Sam ushered her into the waiting area, a sheltered, three-sided courtyard opening to the grounds. She followed, both confused and reluctant. Sam understood her predicament very well– wanting something desperately versus being scared of the bone-crushing disappointment. A few minutes later, when he came back to her with two kids by his side, he watched her slide down from the stone bench of the courtyard onto her knees and simply gape as tears followed unbounded down her cheeks.

James and Daniella– the kids were nothing like he had seen before. People had called what he Dean had hopelessly codependent. Sam believed it to be something similar for these two. He knew Y/N thought all his trips, especially the last one, was to get away from her… either because he wanted to be away, or he believed her to be angry with him. But in all honesty, Sam would have trashed the business to remain by her door and beg for her to listen to him, to give him a chance to explain. However, Sam knew that more than forgiving him, what Y/N needed were these kids. He could bear her anger as long as he knew he was striving for what she needed more than anything in the world. Because then he would get something better than her forgiveness. He would get her happiness.

Ironically, the kids had been stashed in a boarding school in Colorado of all places– the place where Sam had supposedly met Y/N in all their fake meet-cute stories. Sam had used his best resources to track the admission of two kids in the same week as Y/N’s kidnapping in the snowy states. The uniform from the picture Y/N had and the fact that the kids' admission was under their birth names helped a ton. It took less than a month for the kids to be found, after three false alarms for which he had flown to three different states. Sam had arrived at the academy dejected and hopeless, expecting to be disappointed yet again, but there they were– Y/N’s Jamie and Danny. 

The little girl looked like Y/N when she frowned, and the boy definitely had her stubborn glare. Sam had knelt before the boy and offered his hand, introducing himself as Y/N’s friend, and James hadn't taken it, wrapping his arm around his sister and pushing her behind him. 

“I don’t trust you,” he’d said. “Y/N’s dead, isn’t she?”

Sam had felt the earth slip underneath his feet at the words, the vision of Y/N floating in the Lincoln lake from Ellen’s curse coming to his mind.

“Y/N’s alright…” he had managed.

“Then why didn’t she come to see us? We know our sister… she had promised to never leave us. Either she’s dead, or she’s abandoned us.”

It had taken some effort to make the boy understand that his sister had been in trouble… terrible trouble, and if she could have, she would’ve come to see them, that she’s been searching for them all along, which was why she had sent him to find them. 

When James still hadn’t looked convinced, Sam pulled out his phone to show them his picture with Y/N from one of the functions. The boy’s eyes softened. 

Sam hadn’t let the kids out of his sight after that, driving all the way back with them and admitting them to a school that was less than an hour’s drive from the Winchester Estate. He’d admitted them under false names here and installed private security to make sure they were safe and untouchable. Somewhere along the day-long ride, he had grown surprisingly attached to the kids. Danielle spoke very little, choosing to tag along with her brother, but when he was taking a shower in the motel room, she had quietly tugged at Sam’s sleeves and asked to see Y/N’s picture again, caressing the screen with her little fingers until her eyes filled up. 

Afterward, James came up to him and asked for the truth upfront. One day, those kids would grow up and understand what their sister had done for them, but it wasn’t up to Sam. Neither was it up to him to reveal any ounce of truth now… that right remained with Y/N. He had told the boy with utmost honesty the only thing that mattered: “I need you to know that your sister loves you more than anything in the world.”

While taking their leave with a promise of coming back with Y/N, Danielle had let go of her brother’s hand and softly kissed the side of Sam’s face, and James had offered his hand with a sincere ‘Thank you.’

Sam– with wet eyes– had understood at last why Y/N had ruined her life to protect them.

Now, he watched as Danny let out a cry and rushed to throw her little arms around Y/N, who completely broke down, but James held back, blinking rapidly. He chanced a look at Sam, and Sam nodded encouragingly. “Go on.”

Slowly, he made his way to his sisters, and Y/N opened her arm to make way for him. He didn’t immediately go.

“Where were you for two years?” James asked, violently rubbing her eyes. “We wrote to you. We called and you never answered. Where the hell were you?”

“In misery,” she said, hand still outstretched, beckoning. “I was locked far, far away and forced to remain there. I would have died there if I hadn’t held on to the hope of seeing you two again. Don’t you believe me?”

James nodded and went into her arms, beginning to cry. “I believe you, Y/N. I believe you. Please don’t leave us again. Please.”

“Never.”

Sam watched from a distance as she sobbed and realised his own cheeks were wet. A sudden coughing fit overtook him, and he reached for the kerchief in his pocket, coughing into it. When Sam removed it, it came back with specs of red.

“Sam?” Y/N had straightened up. The kids were looking at him, too. “Everything alright?”

He hurriedly put the kercheif in his pocket, wiping his mouth. “Yeah. Just caught a viral during the travel.”

Y/N walked over to him and gently placed her head against his shoulder. “Thank you… Thank you for doing this. How am I ever going to repay you?”

“There’s nothing to repay,” he said earnestly. He’d give up everything he owned to see the smile on her face that he was seeing now. 

*****

You leaned against the thick bark of the tree watching Sam play football with Jamie. The kid was good, but Sam had the advantage of his height, and he wasn’t bad either. You watched as he cut your brother no slack and with a grunt James ran to the end of the field to get the ball. Sam called out and James, grinning, kicked the ball high enough for it to soar over Sam’s head in the opposite direction. Danny giggled.

“He has pretty eyes,” she said

“That he does.”

“And he’s so tall.”

“That he is.”

Sam and James raced back to you, and in the last second, Sam slowed so James could run straight into your arms. He rolled over and lay flat on his back, sweaty head in your lap. “I won!”

“You did, buddy,” Sam said, gracefully dropping to the ground next to you. 

After the reunion in the Academy courtyard, Sam took the three of you out for brunch at a small diner. You watched with hungry eyes, living your dream of seeing your family again as they dug into the cheeseburgers. Sam knew their orders, what kind of soda they liked and their habits. He sheepishly admitted to living with them for the few days it took to move them across states. 

“Couldn’t risk letting them out of my sight.”

The kids, too, trusted him blindly. Danny, you could still understand, but Jamie was as sceptical as they came. It had taken him a while to warm up to you, too. But here he was already inventing secret handshakes with Sam while Danny unabashedly wiped her smoothie-covered face against Sam’s shirt-sleeve. Every second seeing them, you couldn’t help but want to start crying happy tears. 

Later, back in the Academy campus, Sam had suggested playing football, and James– with a wild excitement in his eyes– had followed. As he rolled around in the grass, head still in your lap, you watched Danny pluck the daisies from the grass and skip over to Sam.

“You have such pretty hair!” She exclaimed. “Mind if I put flowers in them?”

Sam grinned. “Not at all, Sweetheart. Do as you wish.”

You must have had a dopey expression because James cleared his throat loudly. He sat up with a cocky smile and you suddenly remembered how annoying he could be when he wanted to.

“Sam and Y/N sitting in a tree…” he whistled the rest so quietly, you had the urge to smack his head. Sam and Danny were busy doing their own thing, trying to fix the problem of Sam’s hair being too silky to hold the flowers, to notice you and Jamie.

“Where’d you find this guy?”

“In a chapel. What did he tell you?”

James gave a side eye to Sam, who was now trying to weave the flowers into Danny’s hair instead. “That he’s your friend.”

You contemplated for a bit, then decided to come out with the truth. “He’s my friend, yes, but he’s also my husband.”

James’ jaw dropped. “You got married?”

“It’s a long story.”

At nine, you weren’t sure just how much James could handle, but he sure as hell could understand a lot. The kid had lived a tough life, but right now, you didn’t want to disturb his peace of mind by revealing too much.

“We had to get married to get me out of a situation, but he’s a true friend now.”

“He treat you okay?”

The question would have sounded absurd coming from any other kid but this one. You answered all the same. “He treats me… better than I’ve ever been treated.” 

James nodded as if he understood. “He’s cool.”

Later, at the Impala, you hugged them both goodbye, promising to see them next weekend. 

“Next weekend is too far away!” Danny whined

Sam knelt to her level and stage whispered, “I’ll see if I can whisk her here sooner than that, yeah?”

She giggled, jumping to hug his neck. “You’re the best, Sam!” He laughed gently, kissing the top of her hair. She reached out and plucked flowers from her hair, then handed them to Sam.

“For me?” He asked, surprised, and she nodded, smiling shyly. He tucked them very carefully into his jacket’s pocket.

Then, James went through the whole ritual of their secret handshake. “See you soon, man!”

Leaving them there and taking each step away from them felt like being torn away from half of your body. In a daze, you got back into the car and were still in it when the car eased onto the dirt road leading home from the Academy.

“You know this is temporary, right?” Sam said, jerking you out of your reverie. Scared, before you could ask him what he meant, Sam added. “We’ll bring them home with us when all of this is over. You can keep them with you now.”

“Keep them… with me…” His words wouldn’t sink in… wouldn’t breach your comprehension. Then there was the fact of how casually he’d said them.

“Of course. Once we’re in the clear, what’s stopping you from keeping them with you?”

When you wouldn’t say anything, he chanced a look, and then the car came to a slow halt at the side of the road.

“What’s wrong?”

How were you to tell him the magnanimity of what he had done for you? Three orphans who hadn’t known a home in years, dirt poor, living on scraps of money that barely kept a roof over their heads in schools and colleges. A long-forgotten dream, when you would be an architect in Chicago and the kids living with you, going to fancy private school teased the edges of your memory. A dream you had been living for… a dream that had been strangled so cruelly, so horrendously that even bringing it to the forefront of your thoughts hurt like a slap.

Sam’s palm came up to cradle your face. “Darling, what’s wrong?”

Oh, where would you begin? That word… “Darling.” When he said it, in that voice of his, softer than a feather, it felt like a salve on the wounds and lashes left on your soul. 

“I don’t know what to think anymore… I don’t know what to feel, how to feel,” you blubbered.

“You can think whatever you want, feel whatever you want,” he said, softly. “Don’t you see? You’re free now.”

Free. The kids were safe. You were free.

Later, you didn’t remember much except the feel of Sam’s hand running up and down your back. You must have sobbed for hours in that car. Somehow, much later, you woke up with a start and found yourself in bed, still dressed in the white blouse and slacks from the day. You must have fallen asleep on the drive back. Had Sam carried you back upstairs? Right then, you were nestled in his embrace, and he was fast asleep over you, forehead smooth, without a frown line. A love so strong permeated through your body that you understood why Psyche had walked into hell and back to be with her Eros. What would have been the point of surviving without him?

Sam had given you many things– comfort, safety and now your family. But he was right; none of them would last without the freedom he had afforded you today.

Freedom to be.

Freedom to dream.

But most of all, the freedom to love him.

*****************************

A/N 2: We are slowly but surely heading towards the end. I guess less than 10 chapters are remaining now. How are you liking the story?

Please do let me know what you think of this part. Reblogs and comments are what keep me going!

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[hiraeth-ink]

Could I Be Yours (Joel Miller fic)

Pairing - Joel x Married Female Reader 

Summary - You’ve been married for five years now to your long term man Marcus, but with your dwindling sex life and your marriage on the rocks, you came to an agreement. You're allowed to sleep with other men. The only rules? 1- You have to tell your husband about it. 2- No staying the night, you always leave after sex. And lastly, rule number 3, you can’t sleep with the same man more than once. These rules are in place to avoid feelings blooming, but what happens when you meet Joel, and end up breaking all of the rules? Will it break your marriage too? If faced with a choice between Joel Miller and your husband, who would you choose? 

Warnings - Infidelity/open relationship??, smut, protected p in v, choking, mentions of face slapping, degradation, reader is called a slut a few times, oral (f receiving), squirting, Joel being cocky, 

Word Count - 7.2k

a/n - this is the longest piece I’ve ever written, lmk if anyone wants more, I have plenty of ideas for this story. 

“Did you have fun, baby?” your husband asked as soon as you closed the door to your shared home. He had an excited expression on his face, and was sporting a smirk you’d seen countless times. You’d noticed that whenever you returned home from one of your escapades, he wore the same demeanour. He was calm and collected, but eager to hear your recounting of the events. He wanted to know every detail and was never jealous. This is what he wanted after all, what he suggested. He wanted to know how you got them into bed, how wet you were, how big they were, how many times they brought you to release. And you were more than happy to tell him everything. 

“So much fun, Marcus,” you said while taking a seat next to him on the sofa, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. “He was a little quiet though, you know how I want to be praised.”

Marcus lifted your hair from your neck and trailed a path of kisses from behind your ear to your collarbone and asked the question he always did, “Did he make you come?”. 

—-----------------------------------

Your husband was a generous man, generous with his kindness, his money, and his wife. You’d met Marcus in University, he was the sweet, nerdy boy in your English Lit class that eventually asked you on a date. You were together through school and when he got a job opportunity in Austin, you packed everything and moved with him, no questions asked. At the time, you couldn’t imagine building a life with anyone but him, your youth and naivety made it so that you couldn’t imagine living without him at all. And so, after seven years of being together, 5 years of marriage, a dwindling sex life and less time spent together than ever, Marcus suggested the agreement. The agreement in which you sleep with other men and tell Marcus every last detail. The agreement that has three rules; you have to tell Marcus about whenever you sleep with a man; you can’t stay the night with another man and you can’t fuck the same man twice. Marcus claims that this agreement “saved your marriage”. While it may have saved your sex life, it certainly has not saved your marriage. Your husband was a generous man, generous with his kindness, generous with his money, even generous with his wife, but he was no longer generous with his time. You may have been having more sex, but you weren’t spending time together like you used to, you weren’t laughing like you used to, you didn't love him like you used to. 

You weren’t sure how he felt about you, if he still loved you enough to want to spend the rest of his life with you, all you knew was that nothing was how it used to be. In the past, Marcus was loud about his love, his eyes were a clear reflection of the love he held for you.  His love would make itself known, obvious, like road signs popping up constantly on a long drive, something you didn’t have to look for, his love appeared right in front of your eyes. Now you had to look for the road signs, your eyes were squinting to find them. Maybe you’d taken a wrong turn on the road. Maybe you were lost.

—----------------------------

A few days later, Marcus had to go on a work trip away for the weekend, the weekend you were hoping you could spend some quality time together. It had been so long since you’d been able to spend more than a few hours before bed together, and so you had been excited for a whole weekend to spend just the two of you, your bodies entangled together between the sheets, leaving next to no space between you in a hope to rekindle something between you. Your disappointment was evident when he’d told you and so he suggested that you get dressed up, go out and find a man to fuck you senseless for the night and tell him all about it when he got back, and while you wanted Marcus, you weren’t going to say no to that. 

You were apprehensive about the agreement at first, but you soon discovered that there was something you found so enticing about seducing other men. Feeling desired by so many was a feeling you couldn’t describe, especially when your husband was never home, or when he was he just wanted a quick fuck to calm his frustrations, he never cherished you, never took his time with you. 

The sex with Marcus was good, he knew exactly what to do by now. But, there was one more thing you felt that was missing from your sex life. For so long you had wanted him to be a little more dominant, you wanted to be told exactly what to do and when to do it, to be put in your place, be punished, even degraded a little. You’d brought this up but Marcus didn't have it in him, he’d grown nervous when you asked him to choke you, and looked terrified when you had asked him to slap you, so you didn't ask again. The men you’d enjoy one night with were more likely to do these things, but lacked the dominant energy you craved, it was difficult to believe what they were saying, difficult to submit to them in the way you wanted to submit. 

As soon as you walked into the dingy bar you felt you’d made the wrong choice. It was dark, only lit by the lights behind the bar and the small lamps on the larger tables. A country song was playing in the background and although it wasn’t too loud, the lack of people in the bar meant that you could hear every word being sung. You were undoubtedly overdressed, wearing a tight, black dress that left very little to the imagination and high heels that were quickly becoming uncomfortable to walk in. You contemplated turning around and trying another place but decided against it and approached the bar. You ordered a margarita; opting for a stronger option, hoping to feel a buzz sooner rather than later. Looking around, the choice of men in the bar was lacklustre at best. There was a trio of men at a corner booth who looked to be in their sixties at least, a group of boys who looked underage at another corner booth, and three people at the other side of the bar. Two men and one woman. One of the men was facing away from you and was mostly covered by the man next to him, who was standing up, animatedly talking to a blonde woman. The man you could see was attractive, dark hair, almost black, only looked around 30 years old, but he was clearly flirting with the woman, and she was eating it up. Her giggles filled the room, and she was twirling a strand of her long hair between her nimble fingers, no doubt flashing him eyes that screamed fuck me. 

You watched their exchange from your seat at the bar, until the man was tapping his pockets, pulling a pack of cigarettes out and passing one to the woman, leading her to the front of the bar and then outside. 

  With the attractive man and the blonde gone, you could look at the man with them for the first time, with no interruptions. He was a little older than the man who accompanied him, dark hair, tanned skin, a strong yet beautifully carved nose, strong arms and big, broad shoulders. He was gorgeous, so gorgeous that you were distracted by the way that his thick thighs were spread out on the barstool, which was dwarfed by his huge frame. Unsure just how long you’d been staring, you failed to notice that he was looking in your direction. He was looking at you, looking at him and he was smirking. His face, gorgeous and now sporting an almost too smug expression, was looking right at you, and you were momentarily stunted by the intense eye contact. You were seldom intimidated by men these days, they were always so predictable, so similar to each other that you knew what was coming each time. But this impossibly handsome man had not yet spoken a word to you, and was already affecting you in ways you weren’t sure you had ever experienced. 

Pulling yourself together as best as you could, you began your routine. You smiled at him, feigning shyness, although you were not sure if this time your shyness was completely fake, and held his eye. You had done this countless times and knew what worked with men. Smile innocently, act bashful and coy and they were soon eating out of your hand. But you could tell that this man was different, his smirk was now gone but he still looked so confident, so sure of himself. You knew you were not in control of this situation, and you welcomed the feeling. You held eye contact and wordlessly beckoned him over with a wave of your hand, you had not yet heard his voice but you were already settled comfortably under the influence of his charisma, and you wanted more. As if in an out-of-body experience, you felt as though you could see your own eyes, and your eyes were undoubtedly, just as you expected the blonde’s eyes from earlier to be; screaming fuck me. 

You watched as he grabbed his drink, his hand so big that the glass looked as if it had shrunk in his hand, brought it up to his lips and took a long sip. As if in a trance, you watched as he gulped the drink down, his Adam's apple bobbing and you couldn’t help but notice the veins in his thick neck that were slightly prominent. The man then got up from the bar stool, turned completely in your direction and walked towards you. The distance he crossed wasn’t far at all, and you found yourself wishing it was further, wishing the universe would grant you more time to take in his perfect form from the front. 

He places a hand on the barstool next to yours and, still holding intense eye contact, speaks to you for the first time. “You’re far too beautiful to be in a place like this,” his voice was heavenly, deep and velvety with a slight Texan drawl that was enough to make you squirm in your seat. The way in which his voice affected you had you floored, you were completely speechless and could only look up at him from your seat. You gestured to the barstool his hand was resting on, wordlessly telling him to take a seat beside you. He smiled and pulled out the stool slightly, showcasing his strong bicep and forearm. “Are you here alone?” he asked as he looked you up and down. His eyes, although soft and kind, held a fierce intensity that intrigued you.

You lifted your glass to your lips with your left hand, the ring finger of which still sporting your wedding band, and licked a sliver of salt from the rim, all while holding his eye, said in the most seductive voice you could muster, “I wanted a night away,” and waited for the penny to drop. You liked for the men you slept with to know that you were married, that this was their only chance, that you were never going to see them again. Some would shrink away while others would lean in. Some needed to hear about the agreement and others found it sexy, that they were fucking another man’s wife. You hoped that Joel was not the type to shrink away, to recoil with offence, as if you had slapped him, as some of them would. You could tell the exact moment he noticed the ring, his mouth, previously open as if he was ready to speak, quickly clamped shut. His eyes glanced up at your face, and then back down to your hand, which was now gently resting on the bar top. 

“You’re married? I’m sorry I must’ve read this wrong,” he drawled, and moved to stand up but you quickly interjected.

“You didn't,” the words sounded rushed when they left your mouth, your voice louder than you intended, “You didn’t read anything wrong. My husband and I…..”. This was the part you didn’t like, explaining the agreement was never easy, “...we have an agreement,” you said quietly, hoping he wouldn’t inquire further. 

“Like a…. Like an open relationship?” he asked while raising his eyebrow, and you nodded affirmatively. 

“Yeah, basically,” you said, and suddenly realised you still did not know his name, he was still only a stranger to you, a stranger who’s body you wanted to lick the entirety of. You introduced yourself, telling him your name. 

“I’m Joel, nice to meet ya darlin’,” he drawled, gruff and impossibly sexy. Joel, finally hearing his name felt as if you had been waiting to hear it for years, you returned his sentiment and tried his name on your tongue, tasting it as you said it.

“I like your voice, like the way you say my name,” he smirked once again, and his confident aura reappeared. “Your husban’ must be crazy, if you were mine I’d damn near kill anyone else wantin’ to get involved.” 

“Do you want to get involved?” you asked, keeping your voice sounding as demure as you could while softly placing a hand above his knee, slowly tracing aimless patterns on his thigh, not so innocently creating a pattern with your fingertips, tracing higher and higher towards the apex of his thighs. 

“Isn’t it obvious what I want?” he drawled, looking you up and down, his eyes flitting from your hand on his thigh and up to your face, “if that's what you want, maybe I should take you home, wouldn’t want a woman like you all alone,” he said in a coy like statement, with almost a hint of sarcasm in his voice, his eyebrows raising with his speech. 

“That’s exactly what I want, Joel,” you responded, you didn't have to try and sound innocent anymore, you were desperate for anything he would give you, and he was not transparent with his desires. His confident air was enough to make your panties soak with desire, the weeping wetness that occurred between your legs was enough to make you agree to his suggestion, to agree to any suggestion or action he ordered. 

He stood up and, holding out his hand to you, led you outside of the bar, his hands, rough and calloused and so much bigger than yours, made your head spin with anticipation. Outside, the man Joel was with earlier was kissing the blonde but pulled away just in time to catch Joel opening a taxi door for you to climb into and said nothing, but lifted up both his hands in a thumbs up, and smirked. 

Joel’s house, promised to only be only a short taxi ride away, was a cosy home, and was adorned with pictures of a child, or teenager, one you were not sure you should ask the story of. His bedroom however, was typical of a man’s, although tidier than many, was plain, but for a few pictures which populated the otherwise bare walls. But before you got a chance to properly observe his bedroom he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer, impossibly close. His hands travelled to your neck, gently wrapping his hands around it without applying any pressure. He was kissing you with fervour, his lips, while soft and supple, were aggressive in the way they claimed your mouth, he was possessive in his want, his touch, his need. His kiss, although distracting, was not distracting enough to divert your attention from the large hand that was trailing from your neck, to your collarbone and slowly to the low line of your dress, his soft caress of your breast quickly turned rough when he pinched your nipple, earning him a whimper from your lips. 

You were almost gasping for breath while his hands continued their assault on your chest, almost missing the whisper he let out against your mouth, asking, “are you sure you want this?” to which you quickly nodded your head. Although he smirked, he was clearly unsatisfied with your wordless reply, and placed his thumb and forefinger underneath your chin to lift your head to face him and upon meeting your eyes he uttered the words, “I need words, sweetheart” and you could have melted on the spot. Any other man calling you sweetheart would not have had the same affect, your cheeks would not have heated up as soon as his low drawl reached your ears, you would not have felt the urge to press your thighs together in search of friction, and you certainly would not have grown wetter from hearing the word. “Sweetheart,” from another man’s lips would have made you cringe, maybe uncomfortable, it might even have repulsed you. But not from Joel’s mouth, not from Joel’s plush, kissable lips, not in his deep voice with the Texan accent that left you craving more.   

Dazed, almost forgetting that what he’d said was a question, and warranted an answer, he smirked at you, again. His confidence had not wavered once, he knew you wanted him, and why not lean into it even more?

 “Please,” was the word that left your mouth. The only word. It was desperate and almost pathetic, but that’s exactly how you felt; desperate to feel his hands on you, desperate to feel his mouth on you, and desperate to feel his cock inside of you. His smirk only grew hearing the want in your plea, the need. He kissed you, slowly and unhurriedly, before walking you backwards until your calves hit the bed and you fell onto it. 

Before you could comprehend what was happening, Joel’s strong, calloused hands were grabbing your ankles, and roughly pulling you towards the end of the bed, towards him. 

Your excitement grew at his rough treatment, which only made you more shocked when he placed soft kisses where his hands were only a second ago, containing you in a harsh grasp. 

He kissed a trail up your legs, your core was almost buzzing in anticipation when he impatiently pushed your dress up so that it was bunched up around your waist and, wasting no time, pulled your underwear to the side, exposing your dripping heat. He admired the newfound view for a second, before licking a hot stripe from your hole to your clit, eliciting a deep groan from both of you. Joel continues to lap at your folds messily, he was letting out groans of appreciation which only added to your pleasure. You were a moaning mess already, writhing on the bed as he continued his assault on your pussy. Joel’s arms grabbed your ankles once again and lifted them so that your legs fell over his shoulder, opening you up for him even more and allowing him to wrap his arms around your thighs, his hands splayed out on your stomach, holding you down as you struggled to keep still the closer you got to coming. As if he could tell you were close, he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked hard, while simultaneously slipping two fingers into your soaking wet heat, thrusting them in and out a few times before curling them, his hands that were on your stomach pressing down and adding more pressure. You could no longer comprehend a thing, you were no longer in that room, in that house, it hardly felt like you were in your own body. Joel’s incessant movements had pushed you further than you had ever been pushed before and you were floating, hardly realising that you had completely soaked his sheets. When you came down and regained your senses, you lifted your head to look at him, only to find him already looking at you, the lower half of his face covered in your juices, dripping from his chin, and that damned smirk on his face. 

“You taste amazing, sweetheart,” he swiped his chin with the back of his hand as he spoke, the lewd action bringing heat to your cheeks. Placing his palms flat on the bed, he lifted himself up, climbing up your body until you were face to face. He kissed you roughly, his mouth still wet with your own essence, allowing you to taste yourself as he pushed his tongue into your mouth. Still reeling off the fact that this man, who you had only met tonight, had made you squirt, something no other man had ever done, not even Marcus, you broke off the kiss and quickly mumbled, “No one’s ever done that before,” into his mouth. He pulled away and, where you expected to see his signature smirk, you saw a shocked expression. 

“Really?” he questioned, his voice sounded genuine and almost concerned. “That’s a damn shame, sweetheart,” he continued while taking off his jeans and boxers, allowing you with your first view of his cock. Your eyes trailed down from his face, passing his broad shoulders and lean chest, soft belly, the trail of hair that led to his cock. You gasped involuntarily upon seeing it for the first time. It was without a doubt the biggest you had ever seen in front of you, and although you were desperate to feel him inside of you, his size made you nervous. 

“Well, let's see if we can make you squirt again, darlin’,” he said while slowly pumping his cock, and, sensing your nerves, he lowered his face to yours and kissed you before whispering, “We can stop anytime you want to ok? Just say ‘red’ if you want to stop.” You nodded with complete enthusiasm, his reassurance completely erased your nerves and you felt more than ready to take him. 

He ran his hand through your folds, collecting your wetness and spread it all over his cock before asking, “You want me t’ open you up a little more, baby?”, to which you burst out a loud ‘no’ before realising your lips were moving. Your want for him had seemed to reach its peak, and you couldn’t wait any longer. He smiled at you and tapped his tip against your clit once, twice, three times, making you whine and grind your hips, chasing his cock. 

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were a slut, baby,” he accused while lining himself up with your entrance, without pushing inside. 

Your breathing was growing heavier from his teasing and all you could manage was a small, “Please,” while you stared up at him, silently begging for him to just put it in. 

He granted your silent request and pushed in, slowly letting you feel all of him filling you up, but not before chuckling softly and breathing out a low, “I fuckin’ knew it,”. You had never been called a slut during sex before, but his degrading words mixed with the slight burn of his cock stretching you out was making your pussy drip on the sheets. He slowly filled you up to the brim, his tip lightly kissing your cervix as he bottomed out, he stayed there, unmoving and looked at you intently, searching for any sign of discomfort. 

Before he could ask if you were ok, if he could move, you started grinding your hips into him, desperate to feel any sort of friction. His feeling of his cock stretching you out was delicious, but it didn’t satisfy you, it only made you needy for more. Joel, realising that you were ok and wanted more, let out a low chuckle and withdrew his hips, leaving only his tip resting inside you, and then pushed all the way inside again, letting out a low groan. He repeated these movements, a slow in and out until you were a complete mess, moaning and groaning, writhing and squirming, unable to contain your reaction to the devastation his cock was causing your body. But you still needed more, you needed him to be fast and rough with you, to fuck you like his life depended on it, like it was the last thing he would do. So, you did the only thing you knew how to do at that moment, you begged. “Please, Joel, please go faster,” you interrupted yourself with a whimper as his cocked brushed against that spot that made your eyes flutter closed involuntarily. “Please, I can take it, I want it harder,” you looked up at him, your bottom lip between your teeth and your hands gripping the sheets.

Joel seemed to lose control momentarily, he threw your legs over his broad shoulders, which made his cock feel deeper than you thought possible, the angle making you moan loudly. His hands then flew to your neck, and they were nowhere near as gentle as they were  when he softly held your neck earlier, his grip was harsh this time, restricting your breathing slightly as he sped up his thrusts, holding his face close to yours and letting out a low growl. 

“I knew you were a slut as soon as I saw ya’.” He grunted with a surprising amount of control in his voice as he continued to fuck you with full strokes, completely emptying you before filling you again. “Actin’ all shy, but I saw through that. You’re just a dirty. Little. Slut.” He punctuated each word with a hard thrust. You had never been fucked like this in your life. The only way you thought to describe the whole experience was feral. The way Joel was fucking you was feral. The way you reacted to it was feral. The way you craved more was feral. You craved his cock as soon as it left you, and were quickly satisfied once again only to be craving more seconds later. 

“Oh God, Joel,” you cried out in a high pitched whine, his words, combined with his quick, hard thrusts, were pushing you towards the edge for the second time that night. This was exactly what you wanted, exactly what you've been craving for so long and to have it given to you by a random man you met in a bar shocked you. You barely had to ask for what you wanted, Joel gave it to you happily, he seemed to enjoy this just as much as you did. 

“Oh you like that, huh? You like bein’ called a slut?” his face was so close to yours that you could feel his breath on your face as he spat out the words. You could only whimper and nod your head, you were already completely fucked out, wrecked from the way he was using your pussy. Your eyes were beginning to close when he ordered you to look at him and when you did he called another order, “Open your mouth,” he commanded, and you didn't even have to think before you obeyed him, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out. His spit landed perfectly in the middle of your tongue, and you were so shocked from watching his lips pucker, and spit into your mouth that you swallowed immediately, the sight, the action and the feeling of him spitting in your mouth was something you had never experienced. And you loved it. 

Joel grabbed your chin roughly and forced your mouth open, seeing that you had swallowed every drop of spit that he gave you, he growled out a low, “good girl,” which made you moan loudly, a harsh, guttural sound that you were sure you had never made before. It was an accidental reaction that brought the smirk back to Joel’s face as he forced two of his fingers into your mouth and trailed them down your body. When he reached the apex of your thighs, he travelled down to just above where his cock was sliding into your cunt and swiped your clit in slow, firm circles that made your head spin. 

“I want you to come for me,” although his voice was starting to sound breathless, his command was still strong, it was not a suggestion, you were going to come for him. “Be a good girl, and come on my cock,” his fingers circling your clit sped up, sending you rushing towards your peak. Your moans grew louder and louder, until you were almost screaming, your head moving to the side to try and muffle the noise. As Joel continued his movements, his grunts were getting louder as he began to grow close. This was only intensified when you tightened around him, your walls fluttering as you came with a loud moan, gasping for breath. 

“Good girl,” Joel said through gritted teeth as he picked up his pace, fucking you harder and faster as he chased his high. “You're such a good girl for me, sweetheart,” he continued, his voice sounding more and more strained the more he spoke. 

“Oh fuck, baby,” the lewd sound of your skin slapping together and your wetness accompanied his strained voice, and all you could do as you took his cock over and over again, was listen to the pornographic sounds. “You’re gonna make me come,” he confessed, speeding up his thrusts even more, making you let out a squeal of surprise. 

“You’re my new little slut.” His fingers returned to circle your clit, forcing your eyes to roll to the back of your head. This new amount of pleasure was a shock to you, Joel was already testing your limits, pushing the boundaries of your body and you were loving every second of it. 

“I don’t care if you got a ring on your finger, you're my slut now,” he claimed you again through gritted teeth and you couldn't help but let out a moan at this. You wanted to be his, and you weren't even the slightest bit ashamed. 

“Now be a good little slut and cum for me again,” his fingers sped up on your clit, and just when you thought you couldn't come again, your mouth was open in a silent scream as your whole body tensed up. Your walls caved in on Joel’s cock until he came inside the condom with a loud groan, continuing to thrust softly inside you before pulling out and throwing the full condom in the bin. Your mind was completely blank, so blank that you barely registered that you had no energy to get up, that you barely registered Joel softly wiping your pussy and legs with a warm cloth, or Joel finally taking off the dress that you had kept on due to impatience, pulling the covers over your body, and bringing you close to him before kissing your forehead. 

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

You woke with a start, immediately realising you were not at home. You were in a foreign room, in a foreign bed, wrapped in foreign arms. You slowly got out of bed, gently unwrapped yourself from Joel's arms and crept to the bathroom. You take a look in the mirror and see a liar. You haven’t lied yet, but you know you will. Staring at yourself, you realise that you broke a rule last night by staying at Joel’s. You had one of the best nights of your life, undoubtedly the best sex of your life but you broke a rule, a rule your husband had set, a rule you had agreed to, a rule to avoid feelings getting involved, to avoid getting too close. Unsure what to do, you headed back into the bedroom with a vague plan of getting your clothes and leaving before Joel woke up. The plan was ruined as soon as you entered the bedroom and saw Joel awake, looking at you in all your naked glory. He smiles at you and beckons you towards him. You walk towards him, feeling as though your feet are moving of their accord, with no help from your brain and he pulls you back into bed, kissing your cheek before whispering in your ear, “I haven’t had that much fun in a long time.”

Before you could help yourself, you answer honestly, “Same here,” you said, maybe a little too honestly. He kisses you in response, it was full of passion and reminded you of the night before, how he’d claimed you as his, despite the ring on your finger. His hand trailed to your neck, and down your collarbone before softly caressing your breasts and asking, “Can I touch you, baby? I didn't get enough last night.” His voice was in your ear and was even more deep and gruff after a full night's rest. You knew that you should have put an end to it there, should have gathered your things and left, you should have resisted him. But you couldn't. There was something about him that you wanted, that you needed, that you craved. 

So, you nodded your head and whispered a soft yes which was met with a teasing pinch to your nipple before he kissed you again. He continued pinching and rubbing your nipples before trailing his hand lower, moving to rub your clit slowly. Your moans and whimpers were interrupted by a question from Joel, “I promised to make you squirt again last night, you didn't think I'd let you go home before staying true to my word did ya’ sweetheart?” He doubled his efforts, sliding two fingers into your core before curling them, just like he did last night, only this morning, he used his thumb to rub quick but firm and controlled circles on your clit, stimulating you just right, and sending you towards your peak. His other hand was splayed over your stomach, lightly pushing down to add more pressure and soon you were chanting his name over and over, praying that he didn't stop. 

“C’mon baby, soak me,” he grunted just as your orgasm hit you, buzzing through your body, making you feel light and airy, and you soon felt the wetness grow on the sheets, a sure sign he had made you squirt, again. 

“Oh my God,” your voice sounded breathless and all you could do was fight for breath and lie back on the bed. Joel lay down beside you and, turning your head to face him, smiled cockily at you. You smiled back at him and made a move to grab his cock, ready to return the favour but he shook his head and said, “That was about you, darlin, you don’t have to do anything,”. Before you could protest and say that you wanted to, because fuck did you want to feel him in your mouth, his features turned from cocky to nervous. You locked eyes with him as his mouth opened and closed, as if he was trying to force the words out but something stopped him each time. 

Eventually, he spoke, “Can I erm…. Can I see you again sometime?” His question had you swooning, you tried to stop yourself, you really did, but the apprehension in his voice, something you had not encountered in him since you met only added to your desire to see him again. And so, you said yes and gave him your phone number, before telling him you had to go.  

“At least let me make ya’ some breakfast before ya’ run off, sweetheart,” his words had you quickly feeling hungry, having not even thought about food this morning, you nodded your head, and he jerked his head towards the hallway. You put on last night's dress and followed him downstairs. On the way to the kitchen you took more notice of the pictures scattered around the house, there were some of Joel and the man you’d seen at the bar last night, and some of the girl you’d noticed on the way in last night. She looked a beautiful girl and you wanted to ask who she was, and who she was to Joel especially, but he was already asking you a question.

“How do you take your coffee?” He was straining his neck to look behind him at you as he asked the question. 

“Just two sugars, please,” you answered as you sat behind him on the island as he made your coffee, appreciating his naked back as he busied himself. His toned shoulders, the muscles in his back tensing as he moved. 

He turned around and placed your coffee in front of you, you smiled in thanks, which he readily returned. 

“So what do you do? we kind of skipped over the small talk last night” he said with a chuckle, his cheeks turning slightly red, “But i wanna know more about you.”

“I work in publishing,” you answered after taking a small sip of your too hot coffee, “so I read a lot of manuscripts, decide if they’re likely to sell, I could be editing the book, or I could be promoting books.” 

“Why’d you decide to go into that?” he asked with genuine interest, while turning

around to turn on the stove. “You good with scrambled eggs?”

“Yeah scrambled’s good,” you grinned at how easy this felt, you were only getting to know each other the morning after, but it felt good to sit here with him and just talk. “I’ve always loved reading and just books in general, so I got my degree in English Literature and then I didn’t know what to do, so I did a masters in publishing.”

“If you love books so much why don’t you just write one?” he asked as if it was the easiest thing in the world, turning around to give you a look that said, “duh”, before returning to cracking the eggs. 

“well……I don’t really think I'm good enough to actually write a book. I know when a book is good and when it’ll sell but, I don’t know if i could write a good book” you asked with slight insecurity. Marcus had never asked this, never suggested you do what you really wished to do, what you’ve always wanted to do. 

“That sounds like bullshit to me, you should try it,” you laughed at his nonchalance,  you liked how he thought you should do something no matter how unrealistic it sounded.

“We’ll see,” you answered with a chuckle before returning his question, “what do you do?”

“I’m a contractor, me and my brother, the guy I was with last night, have our own

Company,” he explained while quickly whisking the eggs, his muscles working overtime and giving you an amazing view of his back tensing. “I started  when I was young, right out of school.”

“Do you enjoy it?” He only shrugged in response at first, before turning around to face you.

“Pays the bills,” he said before serving up your breakfast and sitting next to you with his own. 

“So what would you enjoy doing?” you asked, since he was so adamant that you do what you want, no matter your insecurities.

“Well..” he started, and while scratching the back of his neck, seemed to contemplate whether this was something he actually wanted to say. “I always wanted to be a singer, every since I got my first guitar.”

You couldn't help but grin at the thought of the man next to you singing with a guitar in  his lap. “Well, you’ll have to sing for me sometime,” you suggested, unable to contain your grin as you spoke. 

“If you’re lucky, sweetheart, now eat your food.” He tapped your plate as he spoke, “‘M sure ya need your energy after last night.”

You both enjoyed your food in silence, you caught him looking at you while you chewed a particularly big mouthful of food, and he only chuckled when you stared back at his obnoxiously big bites. You thanked him for the food and tried to do the dishes yourself, but he looked at you as if you were a lunatic and did them himself, leaving you to do nothing but admire him again. 

You were ready to call a taxi to pick you up and, asking if he had any numbers you could call, but he didn't gratify your question with an answer, he instead looked at you with a dumbfounded look on his face and said, “I’ll drive ya sweetheart,”. He didn't listen to your protests, ran upstairs to put a shirt on and picked up his keys, led you outside, opened the passenger door of the truck for you before running to the other side and jumping in. You gave him the name of your street and he started the car, grumbling about it only being a 5 or so minute drive and drove. His arms were almost bulging out his shirt, his broadness creating the impression his clothes were bursting at the seams. 

He looked over at you, caught you staring and looked you up and down before saying, “That dress looks even better on you this morning than it did last night, especially with your hair all messed up,” he smiled as he spoke, looking ahead at the road but stealing glances at you every now and then. 

You smiled and made a humming noise, as if you were thinking hard and responded, “You looked better last night,” and smiled teasingly at him. He in fact, did not look better last night, his hair, messy and dishevelled made him look adorable and seeing him in comfier clothes than last night was incredibly sexy. 

He let out a chuckle and smiled at you again. Every smile he threw your way felt so genuine, and never failed to melt you into a puddle. As the car came to a stop outside your house, Joel leaned over to kiss your cheek and quietly asked, “So I’ll text you?” to which you nodded, thanked him for the ride and moved to get out of the car. But he interrupted your move with another question, “And you're sure your hubby’ll be all good with that?” You had no idea how to respond and in your shock all you gave was a timid mhm as you rushed out of the car and onto the driveway of yours and your husbands shared home.

He shouted a “see ya, sweetheart,” as you walked and you prayed none of your neighbours heard and walked into your home feeling guiltier than ever. 

Upon your arrival home, you showered immediately, desperately needing some time to think. But thinking only added to your guilt. You had broken the second rule of your agreement last night by staying the night. You’d let him touch you again this morning, and you enjoyed it, you loved it. You’d agreed to see him again, and you didn’t regret agreeing, worst of all you wanted to see him again, but that would be another rule broken. Another lie. Another betrayal. As guilty as you felt, there was a voice in your head, you imagined it to be the devil on your shoulder, whispering in your ear that maybe, just maybe, Joel Miller was worth it. 

Read part 2 here !!!

[tsarisfanfiction]

Bars in Palace Windows

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Hera/Juno, Zeus/Jupiter, Jason, Apollo Hera was the Queen of Olympus, yet she could do nothing as her Champion fell. @toapril-official TOApril day 21 - The Gilded Cage

As the Queen of the gods, there was little that could stifle Hera when she wanted to do something.  The minor gods had no choice but to allow her to have her way, and even her fellow Olympians were well aware that it was she who sat at Zeus’ side, at the head of the council.  They could not control her actions, either.

She was, of course, beholden to the Fates the same way the rest of the universe was, but the Fates did not often feel the need to interfere in Hera’s actions, which was a clear sign that they did not disagree with her.  They had not stopped her from her attempt to overthrow her husband when he got too power-hungry, nor had they stopped her from throwing her failure of a son off the mountain.  They also did not interfere in her machinations with the mortals.

Her husband, on the other hand, was another story.  Zeus was growing more and more paranoid by the day, although she and Juno had escaped the worst of his wrath for their scheme with Perseus and Jason – the latter of which, Juno had reminded Jupiter, had been given to her as her champion, and as her champion she was within her rights to treat him as she saw fit.

Zeus disagreed, but her actions had worked to prevent Gaia’s return and he had been forced to acquiesce to her wisdom, although she was aware that if she pushed again for the next few millennia, she would likely be reminded of the horrors of Chaos, and the excruciating terror of feeling herself teetering on the edge of unravelling, of being unmade.

Hera was not bothered by the fact that Apollo had instead borne the brunt of her husband’s wrath.  The Twins had always irritated her, not only two of the blatant daily reminders she faced of Zeus’ infidelity, alongside Hermes and Dionysus – Athena she begrudgingly accepted as being a child of his first wife, even if the goddess had not sprung into existence until after their marriage – but because they were in some ways considered superior to the child she had borne Zeus.  Artemis was the dutiful daughter, favoured by her father and given more leeway than most to cater to her own whims.

Apollo was the golden child, the one that defeated the god of war at wrestling and was beloved by many.

Leto, for all that Hera despised the titan, had given Zeus impressive children.  It was part of the reason she would never acknowledge her.

Watching Apollo struggle, stripped of his perfect godliness and reduced to an average, boring mortal with nothing special about him, was cathartic.  It was true that it also served as a reminder of what Zeus could do to them, if he deemed them disloyal or working against his idea of the good of Olympus, but Hera was not concerned about finding herself in that situation any time soon.

A goddess of marriage knew how to play the dutiful wife when it suited her needs.

Then Jason died.

Jason, her champion, the only living demigod that was hers because she abhorred infidelity and would never partake in it herself, died on a boat, stabbed in the back by an emperor-god with delusions of grandeur.  She didn’t particularly care if he became Neo Helios and replaced Apollo – at least he would not be so irritatingly perfect, and Ares would be able to dominate him in combat at any time he chose – but by killing her champion he had ensured her wrath for the rest of time.

Hera, Juno tried to save Jason.  He was hers, yet he was not her child, a loophole that once upon a time she could’ve used to get her way.  Zeus had looked the other way for her many times, knowing better than to try and stop her.

Jupiter had let his son die.  More than that, he had stopped her.

It would’ve been a simple enough interference, a lightning strike on a boat to incinerate a minor god rising above his station as Tempest rescued his master.  Nothing she hadn’t done many times before.  Nothing her husband hadn’t done many times before.

“We cannot interfere,” he told her, firmly.  “Any attempts will find the perpetrator keeping Apollo company on his quest.”

The life of a demigod was not worth a goddess’ immortality, and she seethed in rage at her husband as Jason died despite Apollo’s best efforts; to her surprise, she found herself feeling a degree of what could almost be fondness for the stepson she had hated for his entire existence.

Unlike her husband, he had not stood by idly.  He had tried, had risked everything to the point of his own existence to save Jason, and when it had ended in failure, he had mourned.

Jason’s father did not shed a single tear, did not enter any mourning rituals.  When Thalia had died, when Zeus had turned her into a tree to stop her soul from entering Hades’ domain, he had mourned as much as her husband could ever bring himself to mourn for a mortal, but for Jason he stood with his head held high and called him a good soldier.

Apollo sang a song to the heavens, grief spilling up to Olympus, and she had donned a mourning veil for the demigod she couldn’t save.

They demigod they couldn’t save.

The demigod that could have been saved, if not for his father, and Hera felt the hatred for her husband start to well up within her again, although she knew there was nothing she could do about it.  Not without risking Zeus’ wrath, and she had no intentions of finding out what it was like to be mortal.

She was the Queen of the gods, sat on her throne on Olympus, but right then, she was as trapped as she had been when the giants had caught her, before Jason and his friends saved her.

[raya-hunter01]

Not My Sister's Keeper Pt. 11

Not My Sister’s Keeper

Roman X OC(Kara)

Jey Uso X OC (Tia)

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut; sex, fluff, couple arguing, Jealousy, infidelity, pregnancy

Roamn’s wife recently left medical school and returned home to save her marriage. Upon her return, she finds out things are not what they seem. Her sister is pregnant by her best friend Jey Uso, who is also Roman’s cousin, and her husband is acting suspicious.

What happens when a conversation overhead on a baby monitor blows her world apart?

Pensacola, FL

Kara’s POV

After my requested Jey didn’t say anything. I could tell he was not expecting that, but I needed to tell my dad what was going on. He deserved to know and not by a phone call or seeing it on the news.

“Are you sure?”

“Not really, but I know it’s what I need to do.”

“Then I’ll take you.”

The next thing I knew, we were back on the highway heading to my parents.

I felt overwhelmed, as so many things I had long buried, flooded back to the surface.

“I remembered my mother having that man in my dads house,” I said so quietly that Jey almost didn’t catch it.

“What? While you were there?” Jey asked in disbelief as I nodded almost playing everything over in my mind.

“He was so devastated, and angry when he found out Tia was his. In remembering it now, all I can think about is how almost the same thing almost happened to us, Jey.”

“But it didn’t lau pele, you found out before it was too late.” Jey said kissing my hand.

I didn’t say anything else, my mind was too busy trying to play catch up, and wondering how I was going to react when I saw my mother.

I wanted to be calm, but I felt my anger rising as we pulled into my childhood home, remembering all the lies.

The realization that the hell I went through with Tia all my life, my mother allowed her to do it because she needed Tia to keep her secret.  It all made sense as to why she defended her always.

 Tia knew about Terry and could blow her world upside down, but hurricane Kara was coming.

----

Kara’s Parent’s House

Jey’s POV

It knew this was going to be bad….Fuck, I knew it was and I couldn’t stop it. I promised I wouldn’t say anything and to only get involved if things went too far. I followed closely behind Kara as she knocks on the front door getting no answer.

“Maybe we should just come back in the morning? It is late baby.”

“The hell we are,” Kara said using her key to open the door and walking inside. “Dad! Where are you?!”

 Yea….This was gon’ be bad.

“What is wrong with you coming up in here screamin’?” Rebecca said coming downstairs as Kara stormed into the living room.

“Your what’s wrong, Dad!” Kara yelled as her mother tried to shush her. “Be quiet he’s upstairs trying to unwind, what’s got you all upset stormin’ through here like a tornado?”

“Terry Kendall, the bastard you had layin’ up in my daddy’s bed…. You know Tia’s daddy… Dad!!!” Kara screamed walking away from Rebecca who stumbled back a few steps in shock.

“Wait..Wait don’t do this Kara, don’t hurt him. Kara, please.” Rebecca cried as Kara waved her off unfazed by her tears.

“Like you’ve been hurting him?” Kara asked picking up and throwing their family portrait that had been hanging over the mantel. “What the hell are you doing?!” Rebecca screamed dodging the flying portrait before it landed at her feet.

“Lies…Just lies..All of this shit is lies!” Kara yelled turning back to the mantel knocking every framed picture off the mantel. Grunting in anger and frustration as one by one they crashed to the floor, glass shattering everywhere.

“Kara! Calm down and let me explain. Don’t tell him, please,” Rebecca begged as I saw Bill at the top of the stairs.

“What the hell ya’ll got going on down here?” Bill asked jogging down the stairs as Rebecca blocked Kara from walking towards him by grabbing her arm.

“Get yo’ hands off me,” Kara hissed as I jumped in between them. I knew what was about to come next if I didn’t get Kara. Rebecca was about to meet a different side of her daughter.

“Aye, she came to talk to her dad. Now let her talk and don’t touch her,” I warned as she took a step back.

“Talk to me about what?…….What’s wrong baby?” Bill asked as Rebecca grabbed his hand, pulling him into a hug as Kara looked at me not believing the gall of her mother.

“It’s nothing baby go back upstairs, and I’ll be up in a minute. Kara’s still upset about tonight and I was trying to calm her down.” Rebecca said, as Kara scoffed.

Oh, she really gon’ hold on to the lie until the very end. Yea, Tia gets it honestly.

“Tell him mama, and I mean all of it.” Kara demanded as Bill pulled away from Rebecca as she tried to hold on to him for dear life.

“Don’t do this Kara, just leave with Josh, go home.” Her mother pleaded.

“I ain’t doing nothing! I’m actually giving you a chance to tell him the truth because Tia decided to let her therapist in on your little secret and they reported it!” Kara yelled as Rebecca gasped shaking her head.

“Told what secret? Anybody gon’ tell me what the hell going on?”

“No, Tia didn’t…She wouldn’t.”

“Oh, yes, she did and I’m sure by the end of the week it will be all over the news. So, you betta get to talking.”

“Since she won’t tell me, you tell me,” Bill said gently pulling Kara towards him.

“Dad-”

“Bill don’t do listen, it’s nothing baby,” Rebecca said trying to pull Bill back towards the stairs.

“I tried to talk to you, but you obvious hidin’ something so now I’m talkin’ to my daughter,” Bill hissed snatching away from Rebecca as she tried to stop Kara from revealing her secret.

“The judge that was in charge of the trial is Tia’s biological father. Mama has been lying to you all these years, Tia isn’t your daughter,” Kara blurted out as Rebecca reached over to slap her, but I stepped in front of her catching her hand.

“Jey, let her do it! I been on pause, cause she my mama but she can get it, let her go! Let her do it!” Kara screamed as I grabbed her, trying to create some distance between them.

“Aye, you ain’t fightin’ and you betta keep yo’ hand to yourself before I let her go.” I warned Rebecca.

“She had no right, Josh!” Rebecca screamed as Bill seemed to be in shock. I couldn’t blame him, everything he has known to be true was a lie.

“I had no right?! You really trying to make me the bad guy in your bullshit!”

“You had no right Kara!”

“No! You had no right lyin’ to us all these years. You had no right sleepin’ wit that man in the bed you shared with your husband.”

“Ah, shit,” I mumbled knowing it was about to get worse.

 “And you damn sure had no right going to him to get the charges against Tia reduced.” Kara said unfazed by her mother’s hysterics.”

“Wait? You had this motherfucker in this house, layin’ in my bed?!” Bill’s voice boomed as Rebecca continued to sob, not believing everything was crashing down around her.

“I-I-”

 “Stop stuttering and tell me!”  Bill shouted making Rebecca jump back in fear.

“Yea, mama, tell him…. Tell him how you wouldn’t let me and Tia in the house when he would come around so ya’ll could have sex.” Kara said casually as her mother paled at the revelation.

“Kara,” I warned seeing the look of anger on her dad’s face growing. He was about to lose his shit and I couldn’t blame him.

“Rebecca! Talk damn it!” Bill yelled as Rebecca collapsed to her knees grabbing his leg.

“Ok! Ok! I admit it! Everything she said is true!” She sobbed as Bill looked down at her in disgust.

Kara’s POV

I told her and I feel bad for causing my dad pain, but he needed to know. He needed to know, there were too many damn secrets around here. No wonder we were all so fucked up.

“I loved ya’ll so much, and didn’t want to lose you Bill,” my mother cried as I rubbed my temples.

“You really did me like this Becks…Me…. Tell me this a joke,” My dad whispered looking at me for answers.

“Dad, they have a DNA results and records of mama taking money from him. It’s real, Mr. Reiner called and told me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, she’s been lying to you and whatever you do with that information is on your choice, but I had to tell you.”

“Bill, I’m so sorry, Tia’s still your daughter. You raised her and she loves you, please understand,” my mother pleaded.

“I guess it’s finally your time to reap what you sowed, huh.” My dad said. His anger boiling at the surface.

“Bill-”

“Tia round here leaving chaos in her wake, leaving you with a child to help raise cause’ she has no mama. Donavan never comes to visit, Kara almost died!! Our daughter almost died at the hands of her sister, who is now in Jail!”

“I love you so much bill and our kids. I’m so sorry-”

“No, you don’t, you had plenty of time to tell me about Tia, but you didn’t. Then you went and ask his bitch ass to help Tia after she almost killed my child….My CHILD! Not yours, MINE!”

“She’s our child Bill, they both are. I swear I never meant to hurt ya’ll. I just couldn’t let her tell anyone!”

"Whatever was necessary to keep your secret, right? Get up off the floor beggin’ like a dog……. Your just as evil as Tia is, matter fact you worse,” my dad said calmy walking towards the stairs as my mother picked herself up off the floor running behind him.

“Don’t walk away from me!” she screamed, jumping in front of him, pulling on his shirt trying to stop him from walking away.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” My dad yelled pulling away from her. “Woman, you gon’ make me hurt you! Is that what you want me to do!” his hands suddenly wrapped around her throat.

 “Dad, No!” I screamed as Jey rushed over to them, pulling my mother behind him as she caught her breath.

“Aye! Calm down, go get your stuff. Bill it ain’t worth it,” Jey said walking with my dad upstairs.

“Bill, where are you going?!”

 “Away from you before I hurt you, and I end up in jail. Sitting up here defending Tia and she really pulled a you on Kara, Roman, and Jey. You make me sick!”

"Dad-"

“I’mma make sure he straight before we leave, don't worry,” Jey said as I headed towards the front door to wait for him in shock. I can’t believe he choked her, but at the same time couldn’t blame him.

Hell, I wouldn’t mind a round or too myself, but I know she’s my mom.

“So, your just gonna leave……I’m still your mother Kara, and I love you.” Her desperate voice almost broke me, but I refused to look at her or give in.

“I love you too, that’s why this hurts so bad mama.” Finally embracing the hurt I allowed my unshed tears to fall.

“We can fix it baby…Just let me, I can’t lose you too.”

“You know what’s so sad mama? You’ve already lost me, and I don’t think we can ever find our way back.” I whispered as Jey and my father came back downstairs.

“You’ll hear from my attorney,” my father said not giving my mother a second glance storming out the house.

“Will you be alright?” Jey asked my mother as she sighed.

 “I ain’t got no choice but to be?” And with that she went upstairs as Jey put his arms around me.

In that moment, I knew I still loved her. She was my mother, but I couldn’t just forgive her, too much damage had been done.

“Let’s go home lau pele .”

“Ok.”

Maybe time would heal some wounds and we could try to move forward, but for right now I was going to focus on my own life.  

------

Three Weeks Later

Hilton Garden Inn, Atlanta, Ga

Jey’s POV

I hated I had to leave Kara and come back to work but she insisted. I tried to call her earlier and we talked a little. She had gone to court today and told me they interviewed her as she left.

Pulling out my iPad I went to the Boston news station’s website.

The headlines were everywhere about the corrupt judge that wanted to save the daughter he never knew. Well, that was the narrative Terry was painting in order to protect Rebecca who had still been trying to contact Kara, but the line of communication was radio silent.

“Damn finally,” I muttered finding the video.

“This is WCVB Channel five news and we’re outside the courtroom where last week not only was corruption exposed but deep family secrets. Local judge Terry Kendall resigned last week after it was brought to light, he showed bias in a court case in which his love child committed a crime against her own sister and said sister’s ex-husband. Terry Kendal’s heart felt apology to Kara Morris was one that moved the courtroom to tears.”

“Should have had jail time too, corrupt ass,” I hissed.

“Judge Kendall, though resigning from his position of power last week was informed today he would be disbarred. Mr. Kendall stated in court today he worked alone and did it on his own accord. The case will now be appointed a new judge and Tia Morris with be resentenced. The new resentencing date can be anywhere up to a year from now, but the defendant will receive credit for time served.  Let’s see if we can get a word with Ms. Morris.”

“A'ight, you had better kept they ass in line Reiner.” I mumbled looking at him and Kara coming down the courthouse steps.

 “Ok, my client will answer a few questions and we ask after this that you respect her privacy.”

“Ms. Morris how are you feeling after today’s outcome?”

“I am grateful that Mr. Kendall stepped up and took responsibility for his actions. I hope he finds peace and his family is ok. I know first-hand what secrets can do to a family.”

I felt proud watching her stand on her own and answer their questions without hesitation.

“Speaking of that, how do you feel knowing your sister’s resentencing and the finding of a new judge could take up to a year?”

 “Uh, knowing that a new judge will be appointed, and the resentencing will happen, I am thankful. I will be patient and respect the process.  Thank you to the city of Boston for ensuring me justice will indeed be served.”

I knew that voice anywhere, it was her customer service annoyed voice. Chuckling, I continued to watch.

“Have you spoked to your mother since you found out that you and your sister don’t share the same father?”  The forced smile on her face making me angry. They just had to fucking go there but before she could respond Riener stepped in.

“No comment, my client has been through enough and has answered your questions pertaining to this case. Her personal life is off limits and with that we bid you all good day,” Mr. Reiner said walking Kara through the crowd of paparazzi.

“Assholes, I can’t believe they ass,” I grumbled. I don’t ask for much, but the one thing I hoped was Kara wouldn’t have to wait a year for justice to be served. If we had to wait, we would but I hoped it would be sooner.

Pulling out my phone I tried to call her but got no answer seeing the time I knew she probably fell asleep, especially after today.

“Hey, just wanted to hear your voice, you did so good during your interview. I love you and I’ll call you in the mor-.”

A sudden knock at the door startled me as I ended my voicemail. Who the hell is it at one in the morning?

“Who is it?!”

“Room service, I have your champagne,” a high pitch voice said as I rolled my eyes walking to the door.

“Aye, I ain’t ordered no room service, plus it closes at ten. So, you can gon’ on shawty and take your champagne wit you.” I said as the person on the other side of the door chuckled.

“Ok, I can just go get a return flight back to Boston then, sir.”

“Kara? ” I asked opening the door as she laughed at me. “Yes, Kara,” she said holding up a bottle of champagne.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, scooping her up in my arms and closing the door.

 “I wanted to tell you in person how proud of you I am, and how much I missed you,” she whispered against my lips.

 “I missed you too,” I whispered feeling the stress of the last few days melting away.

 “You seem so down, what’s wrong?” Kara asked. I hated to tell her I actually didn’t make the finals of the King of the ring tournament.

“I love you for supporting me baby, but they decided to go another way with the tournament,” I said as she caressed my face.

“Well, you won in my book and your fans think the same thing too.  Just hang in there doody and trust the journey.” she said making me smile. She hadn’t called me that since we were kids.

“I’m tryin’ baby, I’m really trying,” I said trying to remain positive. “Just be your amazing self and everything will fall in place.”

“I can’t believe you’re here.” I smiled against her neck holding her close, almost afraid she’d disappear.

“It’s no other place I’d rather be.”

The frustrations of work are long forgotten, Tia, Rebecca, and all the other drama, just a distant memory.

All that existed was us and that was all I needed. Kara was right, my time would come, and I should enjoy the journey.

Matter of fact we were going to enjoy this journey together.

----

One Year Later

Kara’s House

Kara’s POV

“Kara did you get any sleep? You tossed and turned all night.”

“I got a little, I’ll sleep when this over today.”

“Least we can rest after court, mama said she was going to cook for us tonight,” Jey said as I nodded erasing the line I just typed.

I was trying to finish my victim statement to read in court today, but I just felt like it wasn’t coming together.

“Bae, you heard me? Jey asked as I popped my fingers and yawned.

“Ugh, this is so dumb, who comes up with this shit.  I can’t think and I’m just over it. I might not even give a statement.” I ranted as Jey leaned over and kissed me gently on the lips before taking my laptop.

“Let me see what’s got so far, you stressin’.  I told you last night I would help.”

“I didn’t want to bother you with this, you had the show and got in late,” I said as he read what I had written so far.

“Bae, I already know the problem. You trying to sugar coat this shit instead of being you and telling the ugly truth. Tell them and Tia how you feel.”

“If I do that, I will be up there talking all damn day, Jey.”

“So, what, it’s your truth and you need to talk about it.”

“Joshua is right sweetheart,” Mama Fatu said coming into the kitchen and sitting beside me.

“Did you sleep good Ma?” I asked as she smiled holding my hand.

“Like a log, I needed that after the long flight but enough about me. How are you?” she asked as I shrugged my shoulders.

 “I’m fine,” I whispered as Jey kissed his teeth, somewhat annoyed at my dismissal of my feelings.

“She’s tired and stressed out over this victim statement.”

“Kara, you shouldn’t type it, just go in there today and just speak from the heart.”

“I didn’t want to miss anything, so I wanted to type it up and print it Ma.”

“Kara, trust yourself, you got it,” Jey assured me as I tried to shake my nerves.

“Well court is in two hours, so I kind of have no choice now,” I said starting to finally eat.

“Did you talk to your dad?” Jey asked as I smiled.

“Yea, I was on the phone with him while he was at the doctor’s yesterday. The splint is healing fine, but he can’t travel right now.”

“I’m glad he’s doing better, and I know he will be doing even better when he gets this good news today.” Mama Fatu said putting her arms around me in a comforting hug, speaking positivity into the atmosphere.

“Thanks, Ma.”

 Ugh, I knew I needed to get started, but I dreaded today because I knew today was going to be a long ass day.

You got this Kara…. Today all of this ends, go in there and do what you gotta do.

----

A Few Hours Later

Boston Municipal Courthouse.

Rebecca’s POV

I had to be here today for Kara and Tia both. Maybe I could finally talk to Kara and try to get us back on the right track or at least start talking again.

“I could say I'm shocked you're showing your face here, but then again I know you so I’m not surprised, Rebecca.”

What the hell is Josh’s mom doing here? Still trying to swoop in on my baby, I see. She ain’t gon’ rest till my baby is a Fatu and callin’ her Mama.

“Tani don’t start, I saw you swarming around my daughter in there, probably got her calling you Ma n shit too. Just acting like I don’t exist, Josh, up in there acting like her bodygu-”

“Keep my son’s name out your mouth and news flash Rebecca, she has always called me Ma! Where did you think she was going when she would storm outta your house upset damn near four times a week? My house, that’s where.”

“What am I supposed to be impressed because I’m not Tani.”

“No, you’re supposed to care and realize that you were a piece of shit parent and try to make it right.”

“You bitch.” I hissed as Tani chuckled.

“Now let’s not call each other names you gutta snipe.”

“Ugh, look, I ain’t here to fight, I’m just here trying to make it right and be here for Kara. Show her that I am trying, I��m not even gonna bother her.”

“All I know is you better not make today hard for Kara or you’re going to have a problem with me.”

“You know what? Bye, Tani…It was good to remember why I don’t talk to you.” I said pissed off at the fact she even approached me.

“You hurt Kara and I’mma reintroduce myself to you like I did all those years ago.” Tani gloated.

“Ugh, whatever,” I hissed leaving her in the bathroom alone.

I needed to get back inside the courtroom, Kara was giving her statement.

Jey’s POV

Kara was doing great speaking to the court even at times looking at Tia who was having a hard time looking Kara in the eye. Feeling my mother’s hand on my shoulder, I moved to let get her by so she could sit down.

“My sister shot me in the back and tried to kill me. Tia, you hated me that much, you went from wanting to be me, to killing me.”

I cringed at her use of her words, but she was right. I can still see her lying there lifeless and being scared to death as the EMT worked on her.

I am forever indebted to him because he never gave up and he brought her back to me.

 “I say killing me because I stopped breathing…..I stop breathing Tia….. I died as you laughed and taunted Josh to hurt him.” Her voice full of pain as the nodded, somewhat dazing out.

“My lord Joshua.”

“Mama, it’s ok,” I told her as looked at Tia in shock.

“Ms. Morris do you need a moment?” Judge Carlton asked, picking up on the change in her demeanor.

“No, I’m fine.” Clearing her throat, and glancing back at me. “You got this,” I mouthed pointing at her as she nodded before turning back to face the judge.

 “Listening to the joy in your voice as I received medical attention is disgusting and it really drove home two important things for me. You have no concept of consequences or empathy. And your actions have left unforgivable scars, and a beautiful child without a mother.”

“Uh-huh, tell her bout herself,” I muttered filled with pride. She had found her voice and was finally telling Tia and everyone how she felt.

“Your father has owned up to his wrongdoings and took the consequences, which was him being disbarred. Now it’s your turn and I pray justice is swift and befitting of the crimes you committed against Me, Jey, Roman, Trin, and most importantly Logan because she didn’t ask to be here or to be a pawn in your games.”

“Real swift at that, needs life in prison if you ask me,” Trin whispered as I looked back at Rebecca who was in tears.

“Tia, I hope you find peace because I have, and I forgive you. I just can’t forget that because of you I almost lost my life, I lost my mother, and I lost you, my sister.”

Rebecca, sobbing in the back of the courtroom was irking me to no end.

“I know that it doesn’t matter either way to you, so I’m ending this by letting you know that I wish you well, but it’s my time to take back control of my life.”

She had done it.... She spoke from her heart and conquered her fear.

“That woman got the nerve to sit on this side of the courtroom after all she’s done. She’s just as guilty as her daughter, now back there fake crying,” my mother hissed lowly glancing back Rebecca.

“Order in the court please we don’t need any whispers, I know it's been a long day but we are almost done,” Judge Carlton said as my mother zipped her lip and held up her finger.

“Not you confessing it was you with the church finger, Ma. That judge didn’t even know who did it. I got to teach you betta,” Trin chuckled as I joined in.

I love my folks, we gon’ clown at the craziest time.

“Chill ya’ll,” Roman whispered as my mother scoffed. “Boy, I’m grown and since we talkin’ you shoulda’ kept your lil peta in ya’ pants. Still pisses me off that you did that to Kara and you lucky she’s being cordial to you.”

“You did so good baby,” I told Kara giving her a hug.

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Thank you, Ms. Morris, for sharing. This case, though not easy, should have never gotten this bad but I pray you all find peace as justice is served. Will that being said will the defendant please rise.”

Kara’s POV

It was like everything was moving in slow motion as the judge reviewed the charges and talked about the video evidence, he had reviewed. We had traveled this road before, but I knew a better outcome was on the horizon this time.

“Tia Morris I am hereby sentencing you to thirty-five years at the Boston’s Women’s prison with the possibility of parole in twenty-five years. Your no contact order with your sister Kara Morris will also still be in place.

“Thank god,” I sighed, happy it was finally over as my mother and Tia’s cries filled the courtroom.

“No….No, it can’t be!” Tia cried as Judge Carlton banged on his gavel.

“Order in this court room! Young lady, I already find your behavior sickening as is and I’m not going to deal with your clown behavior. Get yourself together and I mean now.”

“My client is just a little upset your honor,” her lawyer said as Judge Carlton rolled shook his head. “Well, it’s about time your client realizes actions have consequences.”

“I’m sorry for that your honor,” Tia said as her lawyer shook his head in embarrassment.

“He told her ass off,” Jimmy said with a smirk as Ma Fatu hit him on the knee. “Why you talkin’ so loud, and watch your mouth,” she scolded as Trin shook her head.

“Ma, you just did the same thing.”

“We as parents have to wake up and teach our children right from wrong. Correct them, and don’t put ourselves in situations that can alter not only their lives but those they come in contact with.”

“You said a word then,” I said agreeing with the judge from firsthand experience.

“Your secrets become their secrets. Their hurt from your secrets is projected upon others, ensuring chaos to follow. What is done in the dark will always come to light. So, take responsibility, be a parent and think before indulging in your desires. This court is adjourned.”

“That’s it?” I asked looking at Jey as he smiled. “That’s it baby.” His confirmation releasing a huge weight off of my shoulders as I saw my mother walk towards Tia but stopped herself and walked out the courtroom.

“Well, that was interesting,” Trin said as I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know what it was, but I ain’t got time for it Trin. I’m just tired.”

It was over….It was finally over, and I could finally breathe.

Whatever my mama had going on it didn’t concern me, it’s my time to live my life now.

Next step…. Graduation and deciding where I’m going to do my residency.

Rebecca’s POV

“Tia, I’m sorry sweetie.”

“It’s fine, we’ll just go with the plan, in trying to get me transferred to Pensacola so you won’t have to travel far, and maybe I can see Logan.” Tia said as I looked at her in shock.

Now she wanted to see Logan…What was bringing on this new attitude?

“It’s a good possibility your attorney can get it done under compassionate reasons. Hopefully, he can get it approved and get you back to Florida.

"That’s all I want mama, to be close to you and Logan. You and Logan are all I have left. I will sign over my rights to Roman if he agrees to let you bring Logan to see me. The prison in Pensacola has a family center inside and it looks very welcoming so Logan wouldn’t be scared to come visit.”

“Well, I am glad you are finally getting it together baby. I will get with your lawyer and see what we can get done.”

“Thanks, mama…I promise I won’t mess this one up.”

I wanted to believe her, but I had a nagging feeling this was going to end bad.

“I know you won’t baby…Just hold on and we’ll get you back to Pensacola.”

I hope this doesn't blow up in my damn face.

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[damiansgoodgirll]

please do damian cheating on reader!😩❤️

y’all want to cry i see 🤓🤓

damian priest x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are welcomed!

‼️ mention of sex, pregnancy, anxiety, infidelity and cheating, angst, body shaming, body issues, reader being self conscious

don’t hurt yourself

“i’m trying to save our family y/n!” damian screamed desperate, staring at the marriage counselor in front of him. she was watching with a deep look the scene in front of her. it wasn’t anything new to her but the way you both were behaving was making it hard for her to help.

“sure…you should have thought about that before fucking someone else damian…” you said, tears already dry.

one month ago

damian just came back from his wrestlemania trip. you would have loved to go but six months ago, you gave birth to your first baby and it was all new for you. you were still trying to get adjusted by how your body looked, how tired you constantly were and how scary the world suddenly became since you had your baby.

damian wanted you to go but he knew you didn’t trust anyone to babysit your daughter for so many days, so he didn’t force you.

the pregnancy changed your relationship a little bit, and, even if damian didn’t want to show it, it was affecting him a little.

it was your first pregnancy so he understood but still, he couldn’t get away from the feeling that something changed.

you became more paranoid, always scolding him for silly things, your mood was on a rollercoaster and the lack of sex between the two of you kept him on edge. your doctor told you that it was completely fine having sex during pregnancy but your anxiety made it impossible for you to have sexual contact with him. you tried and tried but you always had to stop him because it was hurting you.

damian always respected that but he couldn’t lie if he said that it wasn’t effecting him too. the whole nine months of your pregnancy, he felt like he was pregnant too.

he thought it would get better once your daughter was born but he was wrong.

you became more self conscious about your body, the way you looked and the struggle to keep a nice appearance up was hurting you. he didn’t know how to keep up with all of that.

he let himself go the night after he won at wrestlemania. he was partying and he was drunk and he didn’t want that, but, somehow he found himself naked, sleeping next to a complete stranger.

when he woke up his head was hurting but his heart almost stopped when he saw her, the stranger, sleeping naked next to him.

“no no no…” he whispered. he felt his heart breaking.

“good morning…” she whispered waking up. damian watched horrified the way she kissed his chest, only stopping at his lips when she saw the paralysed face he had “did you have fun last night?” she asked “or are you already regretting it?”

“what…how? i-i don’t remember…”

“you’re hurting me saying that you don’t remember our night together” she said, faking being hurt “you don’t remember what happened?”

“no…this, this shouldn’t have happened”

“but it happened damian…and it was too good” she said, smile on her face, remembering how good everything felt “you came up to me at the bar last night, you said how good i looked, how much you wanted to fuck me…then you went talking about how unhappy your marriage was becoming, how unhappy your little wife is, how ugly she think she is, witch, frankly, she’s quite right…you should give her some exercises to do to lose that baby weight she still carries by the way…” the stranger started blurting out “then you got quite boring so i had to shut you up with a kiss. that kiss definitely became something more, judging by the way we are both naked under the covers…” she smirked but all damian wanted to do was to vomit and hide away.

he couldn’t believe he just cheated on you.

he couldn’t believe he rambled to a complete stranger about your marriage, about you. your wedding wasn’t unhappy, sure things changed after your daughter was born and you both needed to work better on this whole family thing but he wasn’t unhappy with you.

he loved you and your daughter isabel more than anything.

“i need to go…” he said not remembering her name.

“sheila, my name’s sheila…” she smiled at him.

he quickly dressed up, took his bags and went straight at the airport, all he wanted to do was to stay with you and isabel, and hold you all night long.

rhea knew something was up the moment she saw damian’s face at the airport.

“man, you okay?” she asked him.

“i fucked up rhea…i fucked up” he said.

“what you mean?”

“i-i i can’t even say it…” he whispered “i slept with someone”

“what the fuck are you saying damian?” rhea almost screamed.

she was your best friend. the person who always stayed by your side during the whole pregnancy. maybe she wasn’t a mother but she understood what you were feeling, probably more than damian did. she understood your fears and never judged you. she stayed with you before you gave birth and right after it. she comforted you when damian didn’t, she held you while you cried your problems to her, too afraid of being rejected by the man you loved. she reassured you when you told her you felt ugly, when you told her that you wanted to change your appearance because you didn’t recognise yourself anymore.

she was there for you and you were always there for her, so, damian telling her that he just cheated on you, was a low blow.

“i’m so fucking sorry rhea…i don’t know how it happened” he said, regret evidently showing in his eyes.

“she needs to know” was all rhea said.

“don’t give the treatment silent rhea…please, i can’t handle it right now”

“what do you want to say? congratulations on cheating on my best friend? congratulations on cheating on your wife and mother of your daughter? that’s what you want me to say? i can’t even imagine what she’s going to feel when you tell her, she needs to know damian” rhea said before boarding flight.

the whole flight home damian thought about how to tell you that he cheated.

how can you tell the person you love the most that you just cheated?

his heart broke the moment he stepped inside your home.

you coming to greet him with isabel in your arms “isabel look, daddy’s home” you softly said smiling at him.

“where’s my big girl?” damian said pretending everything’s fine. he noticed how isabel wanted to be held by him so he gently took her from y/n’s arms and started rocking her.

“she missed you a lot” you said watching the sweet scene in front of you.

“and you didn’t?” he smirked.

“a lot” you smiled back “i’m so proud of you baby” you congratulated him and he smiled at you.

he took time after he came back home. he put isabel to sleep, he unpacked his bags, he took a long shower and he made love to you, hoping that in his mind, he could cancel his irreparable mistake.

a week passed and you couldn’t help but notice something was wrong. damian’s behaviour changed, he was more present and constant with his role - not that you minded but it wasn’t like him.

“what’s going on?” you asked one night after you put your daughter to sleep.

“what you mean?”

“i mean, what’s wrong? you’ve changed…after wrestlemania…something happened but i can’t figure out what” you said staring at him.

“i cheated…” he whispered.

you froze.

“you what?”

“i…i cheated i’m so fucking sorry y/n…i didn’t know how it happened, i didn’t want it to happen” he apologised, a few tears running down his cheeks.

you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. he just cheated on you. the man you loved, the man you married, the man you just started a family with just cheated on you.

“please say something…” he begged you.

tears falling down your face, your heart breaking in millions of pieces “what do you want me to say damian?” you sarcastically laughed “i just - i need some fresh air right now, i can’t even stand to be in the same room as you damian…isabel is sleeping in her room…”

“where are you going?” he asked you when he saw grabbing your car kids.

“away, i need to stay away from you right now” you said, more tears falling from your eyes.

“please…please don’t go…i’ll do anything, anything to gain your trust again…i’m so fucking sorry y/n” his eyes full of tears but you couldn’t be in the same room as him right now.

“i don’t care how sorry you are damian, i don’t give a shit. you want me to stay? fine. then you can go away, i don’t need you in this home, not right now damian…you just thrown away four years of marriage…we have a daughter, a daughter together…she’s only six months damian, how could you?” you cried all of your tears, not caring if you were screaming right now.

“i-i’m so sorry…”

“i don’t care! stop saying you’re sorry! i don’t give a shit! why? why did you do it?” you asked him.

“i-i don’t know…i was drunk okay? it was right after i won the title, i…was celebrating and - shit - i got drunk and you weren’t there”

“so now it’s my fault?”

“no…no, it’s not your fault y/n, that’s not what i said…” he tried to explain himself but only making it worse “it’s me, i’m the one who fucked up and you have no idea how sorry i am…i fucking love you and isabel more than anything, i love you so much y/n, i just made a huge mistake and”

“fucking someone else is not a mistake, it’s a choice…it’s a choice you made!” you kept screaming.

damian swore he never saw you so mad. you were usually the calm one in the relationship so seeing you so mad and angry was unusual for him.

“i know…i know and i’m…”

“don’t fucking say you’re sorry, don’t you dare damian…” you warned him “i can’t stay here with you right now, i can’t even look at you without feeling disgusted” you words broke his heart even more “you either go away or i take isabel and we’re going away…”

“don’t do this please…”

“you’re not giving me any choice damian…you made your choice that night, now you’re facing the consequences…it’s you or me and isabel, we can’t stay here all together like the happy family you want me to pretend to be…” you slowly dried your tears away.

“o-okay…i’ll go…but please, please, we can work this out together…please, i’m begging you y/n…i can’t lose you…” he said before leaving the house.

while he cried driving towards the hotel he just booked, you cried yourself to sleep, holding his pillow, and letting yourself fall asleep.

[thecordelialetters]

Too Late to Apologize?

Five x fem!reader wc: 1,518 Tag: Angst

After 45 years of marriage, Five confesses to cheating on you with Lila. Heartbroken, you storm out ready to abandon your old life. Filled with regret he seeks you out years later, but it's too little, too late

Five and Lila's infidelity hit you like a truck. Sure your marriage was rocky at times but wasn't everyone's? You never thought it was that terrible that your husband would rather find comfort in the arms of another woman. He didn't even need to tell you. The moment you saw the two in the room, their eyes speaking in a language of their own, you were able to piece it together. Five and you had known each other since apocalypse #1, and your relationship had stood the test of time.

You couldn't breathe when Five confessed his affair. It was like the world had stopped, his mouth was moving but the sound of blood rushing in your chest was deafening. Thump, Thump

Your head hammered in your chest. Filled with overwhelming sorrow, anger, and...embarrassment. Your face grew warm, hot tears threatened to spill. You had given your whole life, everything you had to this man and it wasn't enough. Was it ever enough? How much did the world want from you. You turn and ran, ignoring the calls from him and his siblings. This was much easier than confronting the truth. Your chest burned, your skin felt like it was on fire. Your long nails clawed at your wrist trying to scratch off what was left of his lingering touch. It felt dirty. You felt dirty. You wanted to rid every part of him from your life. The phone in your back pocket was buzzing with life, but you couldn't care less for the feigned sympathy or the pathetic attempts at pity from the rest of the Hargreeves. You called a cab back to the downtown apartment you shared with your former lover. The state of your ruin made the cab driver turn back twice. He was used to giving rides to women scorned by ungrateful men, you weren't any different this was the city after all. But the look in your eye was clouded by something other than revenge but a sort of blood lust that sent shivers up his spine. You booked it up the flight and threw the door open to the place you once called home. You shoved all you could find into a small suitcase. by the handful. Clothes, money, all the charges in the house, good luck finding a way to charge your phone Five. A creek was sounded at the entrance. You turned slowly to look at your betrayer. Five held his hands out in an attempt to calm you, but his pitiful stare only intensified your rage. "(y/n) " he whispered. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to hurt you but Lila-" That was enough. You didn't want to hear his sick stupid love story. Your memories flash back to the day you and Five got married at the commission, then to the moments in Dallas where he held you in his arms whispering sweet nothings in your ear to help you sleep. You forced your eyes shut pushing tears out, letting them streak down your face. Holding up a hand you spoke, "I... I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear anything. I will be out of your hair, you won't need to think of me, you can pursue the life you want. I'm sorry I wasn't enough to make you happy. But please, save me from the sorry excuses and let me go." Five was torn, he didn't want to let you go but looking at the state you were in and the choice he made, what could he do? He stood there like a blank wall as you pummeled past him with your ratty brown leather suitcase slamming the door shut. He took a look at his life now without you and started to clean. He picked up the stray pieces of clothing you left behind.

A red polka-dotted dress, the one you wore when you forced him to go dancing with you. He remembered hating it back then but now looked back fondly as your bright smile imprinted his memory. He moved to the kitchen, the sink was full and there was trash around the counter. He looked at the cake dish sitting on the stove and remembered when you celebrated his birthday. You baked a delicious chocolate cake with marshmallow fluff and gifted him a new watch. The watch, a gift from 2 years prior was broken. The glass was cracked and the hands of the little clock were stuck. Moving back to the living room, he sat in his chair, putting his head in his hands. He hoped that all this would blow over, that Lila would realize her and Diego's marriage was unfixable, and that you would forgive him. Had he taken the time to really think he would have realized he just made the biggest mistake of his life. The next three years went by fast for Five. To him it was the same routine every day, wake up make coffee go to work, get stuck at work, come home late, go to sleep repeat. Lila had gone back to Diego to try to make their marriage work. When he thought of his oldest niece's eyes and the twins' angelic faces, a pang of guilt hit him in the chest. The rest of the family fell out of touch with him, even Luther the man that was so keen on keeping them together, stopped calling. And then there was you. Not a day passed without him thinking about you. The last memory he had was the look on your face clouded with anger, eyes lit up like lightning in a storm and filled with betrayal. He began stalking you, seeking you out in person and online. You weren't too hard to find, not many people your age didn't have social media. You looked good. You seemed to be working out, living your life. It was evident in the photos of you and Allison at the bar or you half-naked on the beach on some island. But there was one tagged photo that caught his eye. It was an obscured picture of your hands holding a bouquet with the caption "Love this girl 🌹"

Love this girl?! Who the fuck was this. Upon further research, the account user went by the name of Alexander.

But there was no indication that you two had a relationship other than this picture that you didn't even like! He'd have to go find out himself.

The next day Five took off work early to see what you did during the day. He had discovered you became a sculptor, best known for your Greek-like full-body pieces. It was amazing, you were so talented...how come you never told him this? Maybe you brought it up before when he wasn't listening? Or did you just discover this recently? Regardless of your profession, he found that you were always couped up in your studio, not many people visited either. He stalked your gallery openings. Your face shining with pride as you presented your works. The space was filled with admirers of the arts. Compared to the retail worker depressing person you were years back Five couldn't help but think that he was your baggage not the other way around. You had built this life for yourself without the burden of his emotions and putting his needs first. He admits he was selfish at times. Hard days at work ended with lashing out at you but knowing that your heart would welcome him back in the end.

It wasn't until next week he was enjoying lunch at a local dinner when you came strolling in, intertwined with the arms of Alexander. He swallowed the hurt feeling that bubbled its way up. You looked happy. Your presence was youthful and bubbly, like in your younger days. It wasn't fair, he thought. But in the back of his mind he was reminded of his faults, You did this.

You sat near where he could smell your luxury perfume, Miss Dior. He turned so you wouldn't see him. Glancing back a small sparkle caught his attention. While laughing loudly at a joke, you raised your hand to take a sip of water and there it was. a Bright glimmering diamond on a silver band. Its predecessor was a small silver ring that had vines twisting around your finger to encapsulate a small sapphire gem. You replaced him.

Like he did you only you didn't even replace him because he left you.\

Instead, you had found someone new, someone better. This guy was in top shape he wore an expensive suit and looked... well in his opinion "more manly."

The sound of a spoon hitting glass rang out in the diner. The man you came with stood up. "Hello, I'd like to make a toast to my wife. This is our 1st anniversary and we are celebrating where I first met her, this very diner. (y/n), you are the 8th wonder of the world and I knew that you'd be mine the minute you walked into this place with nothing but a suitcase in hand." You cringed memory. It felt so long ago, the day that Five confessed he cheated. "Anyways, you took a while to let me in your life and I enjoyed every moment I spent with you as your friend. And I will enjoy every day of my life as your husband. I want to thank you for loving me and may we have many more years to come."

Cheers erupted throughout the bar. You were brought to tears at your husband's speech. A moment passed when you were distracted by a small-looking Greek man who rushed out of the diner. Ignoring it you turned back to Alex pushing down the familiar feeling of pain in your heart.

[sexy-monster-fucker]

omgggg your writing is so good!!! Would you do Jesse Gemstone again? I'm dying for more of him x reader lol the visual of the season 4 mustache down THERE is doing something to ME

AHHHHHHH IVE BEEN WAITING FOR ANOTHER JESSE REQUEST!!— I need Danny McBride to stop getting hotter (also did anyone else notice the terrible spray tans everyone got this season??)

mustache!Jesse Gemstone x Reader

CW: infidelity, secret relationship, sorta forbidden love trope, oral f!receiving, soft degradation, p in v, creampie

a/n: technically spoilers for the newest episode??? this season has been so fun, does everyone agree Megan Mullally is gonna be the villain this time? just me? Okay.

~~~

You brushed through Kelvin Gemstone’s hair. Slick with gel to obtain the perfect fauhawk look. The room loud with Judy and Jesse’s southern twang screaming back and forth. Choosing to ignore the two pompous Gemstones to make sure you did not mess up Kelvin’s look. He was just nominated for 'Top Christ-Following Man of the Year' after all. His strange lover squatted by the side of the chair discussing something you halfway zoned out. Fixated on the hair atop his head.

“Jesus Christ, Jesse! You literally stole that look from Beej! He was rocking the stache then you swooped in and tried to grow your own little pube-stache!” Judy’s voice sounded like she was on the verge of crying. The argument continuing over from a few days prior. Tensions high now that their father’s newfound relationship had been revealed to them.

“Shut the fuck up, Judy! BJ wishes I was copying him. He’s just a punk-ass Gemstone wannabe,” Jesse snapped his fingers to end his sentence.

“How did you end up so… not like them?” you leaned down to whisper to Kelvin, smiling in the mirror at him.

“I’m the baby. So Mamma and Daddy got to screw up twice before hitting the lottery,” his eyebrows bounced as he joked with you, thumbs wiggling as they pointed towards himself. Hiding your shared giggles as to not interject into the argument roaring behind you.

You had known Kelvin since your childhood. Being a member of their church for as long as you can remember. Your father being one of the Deacons, allowing you to get closer to the Gemstones. Being closer in age to Kelvin than either of his older siblings. It helped you bond.

“BJ looks like a sad, washed-up seventies porn star! One of those ones that had to hand out his VHS’s to get anyone to watch ‘em,” Jesse exaggerated with his hands.

“Bitch, please— You’re talking about a possibly permanently disabled man! This isn’t some stupid joke, Jesse! There are more important things happening than your dumbass mid-life-crisis mustache!” Judy stomped her foot, hands balled up at her sides. Teeth gritted together as she sneered at her brother. Tears welling as she stormed out of the dressing room.

“Get your shit together before Sunday service,” Jesse shouted after his sister. Flattening out his collar in the mirror. Fluffing out his sideburns and mustache. Deep eyes looking at the reflection of your ass across the room. Pretending you did not notice as to save face.

It was scandalous. And completely wrong. But you and Jesse had been hooking up for years. Making sure to keep things as secretive as possible. The Gemstones could not afford another scandal.

And you made sure no one knew. Cringing at how Judy and Kelvin would react learning that you, someone they had grown up with, was fucking their older brother. Married, older brother. Which is why you kept your interactions limited. For the sake of your friendship, but also Jesse’s marriage. It’s not like you ever expected him to leave Amber. She would kill both of you before he even got the chance.

"Alright, Kelv. Is this to your liking?"

"It looks great as always, Brother Kelvin," Keefe smiled brightly admiring his boyfriend.

"Perfect, per usue, Y/N," Kelvin smiled up at you, placing his large framed glasses on his face. Standing and thanking you again. Walking out with his partner following him closely. Stopping to give Jesse a dirty look, "Have Y/N fix your hair, you look like someone just shook you up."

Jesse arched his lip and stuck his tongue out at Kelvin. Brother returning the gesture with an annoyed snort. You remained where you stood. Cleaning up the countertop ridden with stray hairs and product. Pretending the silence was not deafening. Trying your hardest to keep your eyes off him. Always awaiting his signal. He loved thinking he was in charge.

The click of the lock on the door made you smile. Stomach flipping at the sound of his fancy shoes clicking on the linoleum floor. Ring clad hands splaying across your stomach pulling your attention up. Smiling at the older Gemstone in the mirror. His face tucked against your shoulder. Newly grown mustache tickling the bit of skin exposed by the off-shoulder dress.

"You just gonna act like I ain't even here?" Jesse grinned, voice lower and sultry. Kissing gently along your neck, trying his hardest to get a reaction out of you. Biting your lip in an attempt to hide the smile that began to beam across your cheeks. One of your hands reaching into his curly locks behind you.

"Is it the 'stache?" Jesse joked, poking a finger in your side. Causing you to jump and your facade to falter. Giggling quietly as his hands turned you around to face him. His tongue glazing across his teeth as his eyebrows bounced. Cheeks pink as his eyes met yours. Fingers digging into your waist, holding you against his chest. Lips finding their place on yours. Familiar rhythm of your mouths, knowing how the other would kiss. Teeth clinking together causing a laugh to bubble up between you.

"It's definitely... different," you flattened a hand against his open collar, "Better than when you were dying your sideburns." You teased him as always. Causing a chiding laugh to come from him. Lips attaching themselves to your throat. Facial hair brushing your jugular. Sloppily kissing along your pulse, canines grazing your skin for a moment. A soft moan fell from you when one of his hands gripped your ass. Feeling Jesse smile at the sound.

"I could give you a mustache ride," Jesse's tone was laced with tease. So you laughed. Noticing how his brows furrowed at your response. Stopping when you realized, "Oh! You were serious."

"Duh," Jesse rolled his eyes.

You smacked his arm, "Don't get snippy with me, boy."

Jesse growled with a smile, lips back on yours as he pushed your body against the counter. Hands roaming every inch, desperately cupping and pinching every flab and mound. Almost like he was trying to see if anything had changed with you in the few weeks it had been since the two of you had been alone. Kissing into you harder than he normally did. Tongue parting your lips. Your hands cupped the sides of his face, manicured nails scratching his scalp.

Large hands helped you onto the counter. Spreading your legs so that he could stand between them. Your dress inching up your thighs. Cold marble helping cool the sensation at your core. Hungry lips ventured down your neck, kissing along your collar as he kneeled before you. Knees pressed into the shag rug on the hard floor. Tucking his face under your dress and gawking at your soaked panties.

“Fucking slut, aren’t you? I’ve barely even had my hands on you,” Jesse reprimanded, his way of dirty talking. You nodded, chills decorating your limbs when his hot breath fanned against your core. Thick digits spread fondly across your bare thighs. Massaging the meat, pushing your dress up so that he could look at you. Eyes dark with lust fluttered up at you.

Tenderly, he peeled your panties from your core. Exposing the place you needed him most. Jesse chuckled in satisfaction, pressing himself into you. Mustache tickling your throbbing clit as his tongue swiped along your slit. Your head fell back against the mirror, moaning his name.

“Goddammit, you always taste so good,” Jesse grunted feeling his cock harden under his dress pants. One of his thick fingers curled into your hole, causing your hips to rut forward. Whining as you laced your fingers in his curly locks. You would definitely have to fix his hair now.

Jesse’s finger prodded at the soft spot that had you closing in on a quick orgasm. With how his mouth sucked on your clit, and the overstimulation of his new lip broom you were sweating. Never realizing it could make such a difference in your experience. In love with the way it rubbed you perfectly.

Your hips rocked against his face. Chasing your orgasm at a rapid rate. He perfectly curled and pumped his finger inside you. Cold metal of his rings sending goose bumps down your skin. You cursed under your breath each time his tongue would circle your nub. Lapping into you, knowing your body. Knowing how close you were to gushing along his face. From the sound of the air tightening in your throat and how you had your head thrown back. Swallowing hard with forced shut eyes.

You looked so beautiful like this. Jesse always thought you did. Unable to pry his eyes off you anytime he would make you finish. Whether he be above or below you. Loving how soft you got, compared to your usual combative nature with him. Always making sure to seem like you were childhood ‘friends’ instead of fuck buddies. If you could even call yourself friends. Just being one of his younger brother’s stupid friends who always seemed to hang around. If he had known you were this good of a fuck, things would have been different. Not allowing you to slip through his fingers. Not having to settle for just this. As good as it was, he wanted you.

Those thoughts only angered him. Which was why he talked down to you during sex. Unable to stand the way his chest fluttered when you would smile at him. Or when your big eyes would doe up at him. How softly his name rolled off your tongue.

Like it did right now. Even while you were cumming on his tongue, his name was like heaven from you. Repeating it like a prayer over and over. Nails scratching his skin as you held onto him for support. Waves of ecstasy had you shivering. Thighs spasming as he continued sucking and fucking your hole. Ignoring the way his cock throbbed almost painfully.

Standing and smashing his lips into yours. Taste of yourself strong along his lip. Mustache glistening with each bit of arousal he had collected. Trying so hard to catch your breath with his mouth on yours. Chest thumping heavily as you gasped. Thin line of sweat forming along your brow.

“Pretty girl,” he complimented. Hands quickly freeing his throbbing member from its confines. Smacking upward, pubic hairs dancing along the base. Tip leaking and swollen, needing you. Feeling yourself drooling at the sight. Inviting him back between your legs. Sheathing himself into your welcoming entry.

Moaning in tandem. Pressing your mouths back together to hide any louder sounds escaping. Jesse allowed you to adjust before finding a fast rhythm. Hips snapping up into you. Pussy still sensitive from your previous orgasm. Voice cracking as you tried to say his name.

Skin smacking deliciously together filled the room. You gripped his girth perfectly. Jesse only having one other to compare you to, having a personal preference for you. Liking how you clinged to and praised him. No matter how far back he pulled, you were always happy to bring him back. A pleasant reminder of your relationship.

Jesse tucked his face into your neck, one hand firmly on your hip the other wrapped around your waist. Gutturally moaning into your skin as he approached his finish. Kissing your clavicle as he repeated your name. “I’m gonna cum, Y/N. Can you take it, baby? Let me fill you up real good,” Jesse breathlessly begged.

You nodded profusely. Arms draped over his neck as he repositioned to be pressing foreheads together. Noses resting on the others tip. Eyes awkwardly staring from this angle.

“Gonna be sitting through church with a reminder. Won’t let you forget how good I fuck you. My fucking cock sleeve,” Jesse heaved with his words.

“Yes, Jesse— please—“ you begged, feeling yourself approaching a secondary release. Knot tightly wound up. Overwhelmed with how full of him you were. Cock stretching the walls inside you so pleasurably. Convulsing along his member.

Coaxing him to his own finish. Thrusted and holding himself flush against you. Jerking with his rope of cum that shot inside you. Savoring the way your cunt milked each drop of his seed. Panting as you both rode out your finishes together. Your chin resting against his shoulder with your weight slumped into him. Heartbeat pulsing along your skin as you rested your eyes for a moment. Loving the musky smell of sex. Mixing perfectly with his expensive cologne.

Silently, you held each other. Nothing but heavy breathing being exchanged. Jesse’s hands spread along your back, looking at himself in the mirror. How perfectly your body fit against his chest. Analyzing the zipper on the back of your dress. Loving this color on you. Pulling back to kiss your lips again.

“Let me fix your hair,” you giggled. Hopping off the countertop. Instructing him to sit. Rummaging through one of the drawers finding his curling brush. Making sure his halfway pompadour would keep every bit of volume it had. Running it through his disheveled hair. All your doing.

Jesse pressed himself forward, planting a tender kiss on your hand. Trying his hardest to get a smile from you as you attempted to hide what had happened. Fluffing his locks with blushed cheeks. Jesse’s hand rested on your hip, absentmindedly thumbing circles into the flesh. Eyes admiring your face as you concentrated on his hair.

“I’ll have to clean off your,” you put a finger across your top lip, “little friend too.”

Jesse smiled. Cheeks bulbing at your joke. Having a million things he wanted to say, opting for silence. Watching you walk over to the sink and wet a towel. Coming back to dab the soapy cloth along his lip. Stretching his mouth down so you did not accidentally get any in his mouth. Lovingly, you combed through the hairs on his upper lip. Restoring him to his former glory.

“Voila!” you held your arms up at your sides, “All ready for the big screen now, stud.” Earning yourself a smile from him. Quick to stand and press his lips to yours again, hands cupping the sides of your face. Your own hand joining one of his, leaning into his touch with a smile. Enjoying the moment of intimacy. Knowing it was fleeting.

“Are you coming to service?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Fuck no!”

“Then it’s settled,” you shrugged. Laughing at his dramatic and over the top nature. Watching him check himself out in the mirror one more time. Blowing himself a kiss, just in the hopes of hearing your switch laughter once more. One of his favorite parts of you.

“There’s a trip coming up. And I’ll need my personal stylist with me,” Jesse said off-handed trying his hardest to not sound desperate.

“Of course, Mr. Gemstone,” you teased, swiping off his shoulders. Looking at his eyes in the mirror. His hand coming up to hold yours against his shoulder. Imagining a life where he did not have to hide you. One where you could have been the mother to all three of his boys. Where you shared a bed every night. One where he did not have to cheat on his wife…

But that’s not how things worked out.

And he was happy to have you anyway he could.

~~~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! I still cannot believe this is going to be the final season of the Righteous Gemstones, I’m so heartbroken. I am so happy to still be receiving requests for Jesse, seems like the girlies are in his court this time around. As always, Comments and Reblogs are appreciated. If you want to be tagged, or have a request feel free to message me! I love hearing from you guys <3 //

{tags}

@dannymcbridelover ~ @megangovier ~ @ringa-starr ~ @pushingdaisies1 ~