#I’ve always felt like if anything it was an apology from Jacob | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ramp-it-up · 5 months ago

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II Most Wanted Part 8: Time For Something New

Pairing: Syverson x OFC Reader "Buttercup"

Summary: You give Sy your answer and take steps into the future.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. S MUT, ANGST, FLUFF. The porn part of this chapter got away from me y'all. I was as surprised as Sy. Angst, fluff, passion. Sex in committed relationship. Mirror sex, fingering, clit slap, Sir kink, Mrs. Kink, dirty talk, cream kink, size kink, raw p in v, oral sex (f receiving), praise/degredation kink, command kink, Sy in the workplace, hard hat kink, toxic construction worksite, jealous Sy… omg.

Read at your own risk. Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N: This is the eighth installment of II Most Wanted. I'm in love with these two; they are bringing my writer heart back to life. If you like it, please reblog and comment.

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I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Previous part here

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“I am asking you to marry me, Buttercup.”

Sy summoned all of his military discipline for this moment. He had to stick this landing because he knew you were shaky. All of his heart and soul was tied up into this one moment.

You stared at Sy, then at the ring, then at Sy again.

You saw that he was so sure of you and this love, and it took all that was inside you not to sob. You cleared your throat as you opened your mouth to speak.

“Deep down, I knew that everything was leading to this if I got back in with you this weekend, and that’s why I spent most of our time together trying to run from it. You terrify me, Sy.”

Big, fat tears rolled down your face as Sy’s eyes telegraphed an apology.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, but love me and try to let me know how much. But it is the scariest thing in the world when I’ve had your love ripped away and never thought I would experience it again.

You took a shaky breath as Sy listened to you.

“I think I always knew that you still loved me though, no matter how much time had passed or how far away we were from each other.”

Sy nodded and smiled ruefully at you.

“After I left Scott, I decided that the safest bet would be to be by myself, to never be dependent on anyone else for my happiness. And I felt safe being alone. No one could disappoint me, or hurt me but me. When I decided to come back here for the reunion, I prepared my armor against you.”

Sy brought the ring down to his lap and looked down on it, his eyes suddenly wet. He tried to just let you get it out, but his heart was in a free fall. You reached out and grasped his chin, bringing his watery eyes up to yours.

“But you are my one weakness. And I can’t deny that, no matter how much I tried. I can’t let myself get in the way of this love.”

You took a deep breath as you tried not to sob.

“I have always, always loved you, Jacob Allen Syverson, and I always will.”

You nodded as the tears spilled from both of your eyes. You leaned forward to meet him halfway, both of you pressing your lips together in a wet, salty kiss. Then you pulled back and got on your knees with him.

“It’s time for something new. Time out for playing it safe. I’m not going to give up this second chance at love. So, yeah, I will marry you Sy. If you will marry me.”

You laughed as Sy tackled you and lifted you up on the couch, bear hugging you so tight that you couldn’t breathe.

“Shit, Buttercup, you had me thinking you were going to drop me like a hot potato, but you’re stuck with me now. Forever.”

You kissed his mouth until his smile melted into yours, and you let his fingers put the ring on your hand. You admired it for a second then looked up at Sy, giving him a sweet kiss that affected your entire body as he enveloped you in his arms again.

Sy was like a man possessed. All he wanted to do was to inhale you, to taste you, to feel you around him. He wanted to lose himself in you. His mouth was on your mouth, your neck, your forehead, every piece of exposed skin he could reach, and his hands were everywhere, pulling on his t-shirt to expose as much of you as he could.

Then, a thought entered his head and he slowed down, palms rubbing the skin of your hips slower now, more deliberate.

“Let me show you exactly how much I love you… how much you mean to me…”

Sy’s mouth rumbled against your throat.

“Sy, you’ve already–”

He pulled back so that you could see his eyes. They were glowing with love and with need.

“Buttercup, you don’t understand. You’re going to be mine. I have to try and show you how I feel about that.”

And then he swept you up in his arms, bridal style, as you clung to him and got lost in his eyes, letting yourself be carried away on the short journey down the hall to the bedroom.

You were divested of the shirt and panties, laying back as Sy took stock of your body, his eyes and his mouth christening every inch of your body, from the crown of your head to the soles of your feet.

“Love you, love you so much Buttercup. Soon to be Mrs. Syverson…”

It was a constant litany as he ignited the entirety of your skin.

“Need you, Sy…”

He was still clothed and that didn’t seem fair. You reached for his pants, and he moved away from you and stood at the foot of the bed. You sat up on the edge, watching the show he was putting on for you.

“Love how you look at me Buttercup. Make me feel like I’m the man.”

Sy’s heart was pounding as he reached behind him and pulled his t-shirt off, the way you bit your lip and dragged your eyes up the length of him making him even harder than he was before.

“You are the man, Sy. You are so fine. Make me wanna touch myself to the sight of you.”

Your hand was on your knee and you started trailing it up your thigh as Sy pulled his sweatpants down, causing his unclothed cock to slap him in the abs as he stood back up. He licked his lips.

“As much as I want to watch you do that, baby, some other time. Right now, like I said. I got something to show you.”

You raised your eyebrow.

“Oh? You gonna give me a show?”

Sy’s smile and blush sent you.

“Maybe later, Buttercup. Right now…”

He quickly moved to sit behind you on the edge of the bed, enveloping you in a warm embrace. Sy held you between his legs in front of the giant mirror on the wall across from the foot of the massive king sized bed. The hard rock of his cock poked you in your back, but you settled against him as he spoke into your ear.

“I have so much to let you know...”

He nuzzled into your neck as his long, thick fingers slowly skipped along your collarbone, and your chest. He traced the hills of your breasts to the stiff peaks of your nipples, and into the valley between them down your stomach.

“When I built this house, it was always with you in mind. Had this mirror especially made. You need to see how beautiful you are. Always. Need to feel what I feel when I look at you, Buttercup. Watch.”

You were quaking at his words and his touch, almost overcome and your pussy weeping rivulets onto the duvet.

One of Sy’s hands went to your trembling lips, tracing them and then descended toward your throat, gently grasped your jaw and turning and tilting your head up so that you were staring straight into the mirror. His other hand dipped into the patch of dark hair between your legs and his fingertips dipped to the crease of skin where your thigh tucked into your torso next to your wet folds.

“This bit of skin here, just here. Feels like silk. Love it. Love to run my fingers, my lips there...”

Your eyes met his as you gasped and remembered that each time Sy went down on you he would linger there, but you didn’t single it out as you were too caught up in your own pleasure. Your eyes flicked downward as Sy played with his favorite part of you and extended his fingers, brushing against the stiff clit that was peeking out and yearning for his touch. He pulled your thighs apart, eyes sparkling as you caught his glance and his lips curled into a sexy smirk.

“Look at yourself, Buttercup. So wet for me. Always. I am such a lucky, lucky man.”

You watched as Sy’s fingers circled your nub and then traveled down to dip into your wet heat. His other hand traveled a path to your stiff nipple and expertly pinched it just as you arched into his hand.

“See how beautiful?”

He reached down for your knee and brought it up so that your foot was on the bed now, having you brazenly displaying your most intimate parts and your wanton movement at his ministrations to them. You gasped as you closed your eyes and felt a sharp slap on your pussy.

“Make sure that you keep your eyes open. Don’t want to have to punish you again.”

“Oh my god...Please, Sy…”

You didn’t know what you were begging for, was it punishment, or mercy?

Sy’s cock pulsed behind you as he dipped his head and sucked a spot on your neck that made you keen. His voice was a bit gruffer as he replied to you.

“Not tonight,” His tongue soothed the hickey he’d made. “We’ve got time for that, Buttercup.”

His naughty promise made you arch in his grip, your ass meeting his balls and your breast shoved further into his hand. His voice turned back to velvet, and it seemed that you needed just a modicum of stimulation to have you hurtling over the edge.

Your palms were resting on his thick, hairy thighs as you sunk into the solid planes of his chest and abdomen, but they moved to the duvet cover as he and hooked both of your legs over his and widening his spread, splaying you open even more to the light of the bedroom.

The thought entered your head that you should have been embarrassed, but then you chased it away with the next thought that entered your head, and that you uttered.

“‘M soo wet and ready for you Sy. Only you, future husband…always ready for you, baby.”

A low groan rumbled past his lips as he stopped teasing and shoved two fingers into you, swiftly filling you up and causing your mouth to form a wide O.

“There she is. My beautiful little sexy wifey.”

You watched as Sy finger fucked you, your cunt sloshing and swallowing his digits as they pumped in and out. Sy felt how you wrapped around his fingers and he realized that he was sliding his leaking cock against your spine.

“Damn, so fucking wet and tight for me, baby. I’m trying to hold out, but you make it hard,” he pressed his erection into your back. “Literally.”

You felt the coil tighten in the core of you as you took his thumb in your mouth and fellated it as if it were his dick. He groaned again.

“What did you say the other day? Wanna be my what? My what kinda slut?”

“OhmygodSy!”

You couldn’t breathe.

You arched your back and tried to pull away, to run from the impending doom that watching him fuck you like this was creating, but he held you fast, making you watch him bury his now three fingers knuckle deep inside you again and again.

Sy kissed the tip of your ear as he leaned down to whisper conspiratorially to you.

“What was it again? What kind of slut you wanna be? What is it you need? What do I love to see you do? Wait a minute… let me think…”

Sy was commanding you to hold it the smoothest way possible, and when your eyes started rolling into the back of your head was when he relented.

“I remember now. Cum. Cum for me baby. I’m such a cum slut for you, too, Butterup…”

His hand squeezed your breast and pinched your nipple simultaneously as you hurtled over the cliff.

“O- Ohhhhhhhhh!”

“Thaaat’s right. Take it for me Buttercup. So fucking hot.”

You obeyed his order as the sensation washed over you and your pussy clenched around his fingers. You try to run again as Sy didn’t stop, but gradually slowed down as your pulses subsided and the wetness of your arousal increased. He held your face forward for you to watch as you slumped against him.

“Fuck… Sy…that was… shit…”

You felt him poking you in the back and you reached behind you as you craned your neck up to receive his tongue in your mouth for a sloppy kiss.

“Hmm, Buttercup. Not done with you yet.”

Sy took your hips in his hands and pulled you onto the bed, your hips presented to him, with your head still near the foot of the bed. You wiggled your ass as Sy kissed each of your cheeks and then licked a stripe up the middle of you and then dove in for more.

He destroyed your soul for a minute and then stopped, causing your eyes to snap open and meet his in the mirror. He straightened up and you tried to push back, onto his hard and leaking cock, or his thigh, anything that would give you that feeling you so desperately needed at the moment.

“I need you to watch me as I clean up this mess I made back here. Taste so fucking good. Keep your eyes open while I eat you out.”

You shivered.

“Yes, Sir.”

Sy raised his eyebrow; he felt like sinking deep into you. And so he did, stretching you out like it was the first time and causing you to bite your lip.

“Fuccckkk! Just can’t control myself no matter how hard I try, Buttercup.”

He looked down at your cunt swallowing his cock and he couldn't take it. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“So gotdamn hot and so fucking tight. Take me so well.”

You watched the look of agony/ecstasy on his face as he held your hips and drilled into you like a mad man, bearing his teeth and going all out, his feral look causing you to spasm your way into another orgasm.

He fucked you through it and then pulled out, causing you to scream in protest. Sy looked at you in the mirror and laughed, shaking his head.

“No ma’am, this is not how this is gonna go.”

Sy’s heart was pounding out of his chest despite his denial. His plan to make slow, sensuous love to you was ruined, because you were ruining him. He had to calm down. Then he saw the cream you’d left on his dick and his eyes rolled.

You practically came again as Sy grabbed his wet cock and stroked it as he looked at your upturned ass. Then he stopped and looked at you. Your mouth was open and you could tell that he was squeezing the base of himself and clenching his jaw.

“Give it to me Sy…give me your cum… please.”

He looked down at your pussy clenching on air and started jacking his cock again, a man possessed. Sy felt like he was going to die if he didn’t get back inside you right away. He shook his head, growled, slapped your ass and plunged inside you.

“Well ain’t that a daisy. Turns out…holy fuck…I can’t stop. Gonna give you this cum. Fuck fuck, holy fuck! This pussy is so good.”

You leaned down and delivered the perfect arch for him and he roared. He felt as if cum came spurting out of him like never before as he pounded you out.

“Jesus! Cum with me Buttercup!”

“Yesss. YesssssfeelssogoodddddSy!”

Sy sounded emotional as you cried for it, yelling in approval as his hot cum splashed against your shuddering walls.

You collapsed with Sy on top of you, his weight a comfort as you felt him soften and your mixed fluids leak out of you. You stayed that way for a few minutes listening to your breaths subside until Sy stirred and then tilt your head up so you could look at him in the mirror again.

He kissed your cheek then raised his eyebrow.

“Now. Like I said. Watch me as I clean up this mess I made back here.”

You gasped, scandalized.

“Sy! I have to get up for my interview–”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it so you get a good night’s sleep, Buttercup.”

And all you could do was watch as he fulfilled his promise.

—-

You did sleep like a log after a few more orgasms which involved the shower, but you popped right up to get ready for your interview in the morning.

Sy was up as well, scheduled to go into work for the morning while you met with the team at ReHome, and you smiled as you brushed your teeth together in the double sink in the master bath. You also allowed yourself a minute to admire him cleaning up his beard with his clippers.

You could get used to this.

You dressed in a form fitting pencil skirt and flowy blouse with the attached tie that conveniently hid the hickey that Sy gave you the night before. You grinned at your hair and makeup as you admired the look in the mirror. You felt like a queen.

The whistle that your fiance gave you as you entered the kitchen boosted your confidence even more.

“Holy Shit, Buttercup. You look competent as hell.”

You laughed at Sy as he handed you a cup of your favorite tea. He’d bought a half a year’s supply when you pointed it out at the store the day before.

Yeah. You made the right choice.

“Thank you Sweetie. I feel good.”

Sy raised his eyebrow at you.

“Sweetie? What has caused this sudden turn of a pet name?”

You held up your hand.

“I’m wifey, remember?”

Sy feigned forgetfulness, “Oh yeah. That.”

He grinned as he pulled you into his arms and gave you a quick peck, releasing you so that your clothes didn’t wrinkle.

“We’ll talk about that more later. Right now, we need to get you downtown.”

30 minutes later, your heart started to pound as you walked into the ReHome building, and you turned and waved at Sy before he drove away in Betty. Then, you lifted your head and walked inside, reminding yourself that you were fucking spectacular at what you did, and that they would be lucky to get you.

—

Sy was on a construction site, a complex of sliding scale rate apartments, trying to get his drywallers in line because two young bucks decided to bring their beef from the strip club to work. He had Cole by the collar and was holding Joe back with another hand as as he tried to prevent them from fighting.

“You two need to keep this shit off my fucking worksite and get back to work before I bang your fucking heads together, ya gotdamn neanderthals…”

Suddenly, he felt the crowd of workers' attention shift, even the two idiots he had in hand. Billy, his foreman emitted a low whistle and muttered something under his breath.

“…a look at that piece of…”

The hair on Sy’s neck raised as he turned his head to see you walking toward him with a hard hat on. It was sexy as fuck.

He watched as Mike Ackerman walked close to you. Funny, he used to like the guy, but a strange feeling of possession and something else he couldn’t name rose within him when he saw him next to you.

“….you’re choking me….”

Sy remembered himself when Cole gasped, and he released both him and Joe and then turned to threaten Billy.

“Watch what the fuck what you’re saying, William. That is if you wanna live to take another breath.”

Billy shut his mouth as Sy straightened up and walked toward your group.

—

The interview had gone swimmingly.

The first thing you did was to disclose your relationship with Sy. The director of ReHome, Mike Ackerman, and his board chair, Nancy Christiansen, didn’t flinch.

The rest of the time went so well that Ackerman barreled ahead off script (you could tell at his secretary’s flustered reaction to his requests) and asked you about salary, moving logistics and start dates, even though you hadn’t formally accepted the job yet.

When Mr. Ackerman suggested you go to a work site of a current project where Castle Builders were working, you jumped at this unexpected chance to see Sy in his element. You had an hour before Sy was scheduled to pick you up and you decided to save him a trip.

When you pulled up to the site, you deftly donned the protective head gear and did not let your heels stop you from striding confidently through the construction debris. As you rode the service elevator to the fourth floor of the structure, you heard raised voices and distinct profanity as you got closer.

Hearing Sy’s voice above the fray made you feel some kind of way.

“Well, you’ll get to see Sy handle problems in real time, Ms. YLN.”

Mike smiled at you as Nancy shook her head and smiled, and both of them advanced toward the ruckus. You were shook.

There was Sy, in a hard hat, sleeves rolled up, veins popping, a look of pure dominance on his face and handling two grown men as if they were rag dolls. Damn he was hot. You hoped that everyone couldn’t see that your nipples were hard.

Everyone but Sy.

Someone whistled and everyone saw your group approaching and separated, while Sy whispered to a man at his side, looking none too pleased. Then, he turned to you, his countenance that of an angel.

“Look what we have here. VIPs.”

You couldn’t tell how Sy was feeling about it, but you smiled at him angelically.

“Hullo Sy,” Mike drawled familiarly, “I hear that you know Ms. YLN?”

Sy sideyed Mike, smiled at Nancy, and then gazed at you, taking you all in as if he hadn’t seen you this morning. He didn’t miss the look on your face or the way your tits sat all perked up for him in that shelf bra he saw you put on today. He wished you weren’t getting on a plane in a few hours.

“Yes, Yes I do. In fact, we go way back.”

Sy paused and looked around the space.

“And we’re about to go real far into the future.”

“Yes, I hear congratulations are in order for you both.”

Mike still had an inscrutable smirk on his face.

“Holy shit. This your girl, Cap?”

Billy had a sinking feeling that he was toast.

Sy wasn’t going to kill Billy, but he was super annoyed.

“This is YFN/YLN. Architect for ReHome and my future wife. She’s a woman. And a professional, so act like you’re one too, before I relieve you of your profession.”

Cole and Joe were whispering and laughing together, their beef forgotten at the revelation of Sy’s relationship.

“Get back to work, you’ve all wasted enough time as it is. We better be on track when I come back this afternoon.”

Billy was all business now.

“Sure thing, Cap. Back to work.”

Sy smirked at you quickly before his face settled back into his professional persona.

“You all need a tour?”

You could be a professional. Just like Sy.

“Mike thought it would be a good idea to see the work site as part of the interview.”

Ackerman cleared his throat.

“Yes, I wanted to get Ms. YLN’s opinions on the construction…”

Sy tried not to zone out as the idea that he would so love to hear his last name at the end of yours, but he gleaned enough to get the gist of the conversation.

“Sure thing, let’s head over this way– Watch out for those nails there- we’ve done something a little different…”

Your brain short circuited as Sy’s hand touched your back to steer you away from a construction hazard, but you got back on track pretty quickly.

—-

45 minutes later, you were waving at Mike and Nancy as they drove away and headed toward a small trailer at the edge of the construction site. Sy’s ‘field office.’

You entered the small space which was mostly occupied by two desks, two file cabinets, a small refrigerator, and a coffee pot was a quarter full of coffee. You heard Sy closing and possibly locking the door as you noticed saw some drawings of the construction on one desk and you leaned over to look more closely and sighed contentedly.

“I’m so excited, Sy! That went so well. I think this job is a sure thing.”

Sy walked up close behind you and pressed the steel bar in his pants into your expensively clothed backside.

“Me too, Buttercup. And I’ll tell you what else is a sure thing.”

“Jake Syverson…”

———

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jaketsparrow · 9 months ago

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SOMETHING... | JTK

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f! Reader

Word Count: 10.6K

Summary: When you have to say goodbye to your professor and mentor, a cocky young professor steps in, Jacob Kiskza. Literature used to be your safe place, but now you feel him getting involved in every corner; it doesn’t help that you’re his TA. You deny yourself every opportunity to fall for him until…

A/N: Hi guys :) I know it’s been forever since I’ve put something together and I apologize about that, but this is life. This one has been on my mind since the Grammy U interview and I finally had the idea to put it all together. I hope you enjoy :)

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*Also I'm so sorry I lost my tag list so if you want to be tagged here's a new form* Taglist

MINORS DNI

MENTIONS OF/ TW: Sexual content (of course), talks about death/grief, angst, swearing, Dom! Jake, restraints, possible orgasm denial, choking, alcohol use, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, ~some~ degrading, praise kink!, I’m sorry if I missed anything, but, etc, it’s filth.

The classroom was cold in the early months of the year. You had gotten in the habit of wearing your coat through the 3-hour seminar. You were lucky that this class only ran once a week, but you often had to stay longer than the students, working with the professor for a few hours afterward. He was always elusive. Always eager to get things done as fast as possible; efficient and snappy.

There was much to admire about him, but his personality often left you rolling your eyes. He always seemed a bit too sure about himself, always being the tough grader, pushing students further than they were willing to go. He cared a lot, especially about the subject matter. He still had that gusto in him to do things right, to be stern.

He was new to the program; and before this, only about a year into teaching. You studied under his predecessor. She was a kinder old woman who cared deeply for you, like your mother away from home. She taught you everything- and even got you to change majors during your sophomore year. She supplemented your reading supplies, nurtured your abilities, and was always willing to sit in deep conversation with you. Discussing the classics, introducing modern pieces, talking about life, talking about it all.

Professor Kiszka on the other hand…

When he took over for Professor Meelo, he took very little time to rip the bandaid off. When you had originally been promised a TA position in the literature department, you were expected to be under your mentor, not a cocky white man.

You spent weeks crying during winter break after first meeting him. The day you met him didn’t go exactly as you hoped. It was the week of finals when you found out Meelo was sick, and that she was stepping away from teaching. As if finals week wasn’t stressful enough, you had to come to terms with the fact that the woman who taught you everything was going to be leaving this world sooner than you would’ve thought. It was even more of a punch in the gut to walk into your introduction meeting to see… him.

3 Months Ago

The walk across campus felt heavier than usual. The winter had been harsher than it usually was in early December. The wind whipped across your bare rosy cheeks, causing freezing tears to slowly fall out of the corners of your eyes. Almost like a bad omen, the weather continued to get worse as you sludged your way across the quad.

The parking lot was nearly a mile away from campus, which was nice during the warmer months; the trees would sway across the crosswalk, blessing the sidewalk with fallen flowers and leaves. The grass was green and lively, a welcome mat onto a wonderful learning home. Between the cracks of the stone walkways, little dandelions would grow. You never understood the people who thought them to be unnecessary weeds. They were bright and yellow lively plants, and when the time of beauty passed, they passed their good wishes onto you. Blowing what once were vibrant petals into the wind. Who knew you’d miss the weeds on your walks?

Instead, now the stones were smeared with remnants of snowy footprints, broken earth that had been cracked through with the force of shovels, and the remnants of the dead earth.

Meelo called you just last week. You begged to go see her in the hospital, but she didn’t want you to worry too much. She agreed to call you every other day, just like your usual coffee arrangements. She loved them just as much as you did. She never had a husband or any children. Her students were her children, her soul was fed enough through changing lives that she didn’t want to take away that love from her students or prevent any child from feeling all of it. You were not the first to bear their soul in her office, but you might be one of the last.

Meelo begged you to go meet the new professor. You had tried to rescind your TA position, but she blocked you at every chance she got. Even while in hospice she still managed to look out for you…

“Please, sweetheart. I know it’s not easy. But he’s young, he’s smart, I think you’ll have a lot in common with him,” She pleaded through the phone.

“But he’s not you. I just, I thought… I thought I’d have more time…” Your voice trailed off.

You tried to hold the phone away from your face, trying not to distress her more with the sounds of your whimpers and tears.

Her voice started again, “You never know what you will learn from him. You have more time with me, but there comes a time when a teacher must share her students for them to learn more. If we stayed in our echo chamber together my dear I’m afraid you wouldn’t learn everything you need to know. Jacob is going to be a great professor, and I know you will learn a lot from him. His research and analysis work is quite extensive. The school and I hired him for a reason. Please. Just give it a try. For me.”

“Just for you.”

And here you were trudging through, feeling every bone in your body telling you to turn around, to go home. But you were doing this not for you, you reminded yourself. For Meelo. She was right, you latched on to her from your early years in college and favored her over all of your other professors. They were kind and nice as well, but it didn’t matter to you in the end, if they weren’t Meelo, they were never going to compare.

The building seemed colder than usual. The large glass windows were covered by their shades; no one wanted to see the gross state of life outside of the classroom. That’s hardly motivating to any student, the fluorescents would give more life than the grey state of the weather.

You pull the door open, walk through the entryway, and follow your usual path down the hallway to Meelo’s room.

The thing about old colleges, everywhere you turn is a little piece of history. Each room has housed many professors and many students. The building had life, had ghosts of its own hidden in each brick, in each stone. You felt the comfort of this presence moving through the hallway.

You stop right before Meelo’s room, catching your breath before you enter. Trying to have an open mind. Kiszka could be something, or he could just be another man throwing words at you. Not that all men were the same, but a majority of the male professors here were lackluster, favoring the male students and the athletes who needed the better grades to stay in the school. And if they favored the women… You always felt a cold chill thinking about that. Thinking about why…

One last deep breath before you enter the classroom. You grab tight onto the handle of your tote bag and strut confidently into the room.

It was empty.

The beautiful artwork and posters that Meelo had filling the room were stripped. Revealing the natural state of the architecture. It was beautiful in its own way but didn’t feel like the educational home you once felt so blessed to be in. The desks were all shoved to one side of the classroom. The previous welcoming U-shape was demolished, instead providing a cluttered destruction of Meelo’s work.

You stood awestruck in the shape of the room. There was no time wasted between Meelo leaving and Kiszka starting to make his mark on the room. The bookshelves that used to be filled in the back of the room had been emptied and their contents sat on the floor in boxes.

You walk over to the boxes, kneeling to gently sift through the carelessly placed books. This was Meelo’s library that she had collected for the classroom. Take a book, leave a book, borrow a book, bring it back. You loved visiting this wall every week, seeing what books your peers were interested in, and which books made their way into the library. Some new, and some returning after long months away.

Sitting on top of the box was the classic “Brave New World”. Aldous Huxley. 1932. Not an original copy, but a new binding. It was like the universe was sending you signs. This would be a brave new world. A world where you might have to come to terms with the fact that Meelo would not be in your life forever. A world where you might have to figure out everything with a new mentor. A world where you thought you would have years to work on your pieces with a woman who understood you, but now you would turn over your heartfelt pieces to a man. One who may not understand you the same as someone else does.

“A favorite of yours?” A voice perks up from the doorway.

You turn to see him. Your eyes work your way up his figure. He’s wearing Chelsea boots, black thick linen pants, a white loose shirt with a black vest, and a dress coat over it. His chestnut hair lays over the shoulders of the coat, and his eyes are covered by circular gold-rimmed sunglasses. He oozes mystery. His arms crossed, surveying your crouched body by the boxes. You hate to admit it, but he may be one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen.

You hold up the book towards him, displaying the cover.

“Not particularly. I don’t like thinking about the takeover of technology. It feels too real right now.” You respond.

He wanders over to you, taking his time, each step creating the most annoying echo in the emptied classroom. He reaches his hand out to yours, asking silently for the book. You hand it over to him and stand to match his level.

He passes the book between his hands, admiring the binds, “Ah, yes, but perhaps something can be learned from the book if more understood its warning… if only more read it…”

“If only…” You let the conversation trail off. Your eyes wander back to the pile of desks on the opposite wall. You feel yourself zoning out, focused only on the change of the room, not on the man in front of you.

“-Your favorite?” He asks.

You snap back to the conversation, trying to recall the beginning of his question, “I’m sorry?

“If this is not your favorite, can I ask which is?” He waves you to walk with him.

You follow him into the office at the back of the classroom. He sits in Meelo’s chair, and you sit in the chair that had held you so many times. You wouldn’t be surprised if the cushion had a you-shaped imprint in it at this point.

He asks a third time, “You don’t seem like the Jane Eyre or Louisa May student, so what is it?”

You let your bag fall off your shoulder and you try to sit up in the chair, asserting some sort of professionalism. Your answer will hold some sort of judgment for him. Although you want to be offended by his comment about the female author’s classics, he’s right. They were never your favorite.

“Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Meelo gave it to me as my first assignment.” You respond, confident in your answer.

He nods in approval, “Lovely choice, very telling. Meelo said you were very bright–one for the classics.”

He leans back in his chair, stroking his chin. His hand reaches up to the gold-rims and pulls them off, clattering onto the desk. He pulls himself towards the desk, resting his elbows on the table.

“Are you going to ask me mine?” He asks, almost presumptuously.

You fight back the urge to roll your eyes. Of course, he has to find a way to be important here. You adjust yourself in your seat, crossing your arms in the process.

“If you want me to know, why don’t you just say it?” You retort.

He chuckles to himself, “Lord of the Rings.”

Your mouth falls so far open that you’re afraid a fly might buzz its way in. You lift your hand to your mouth and try to hide your disapproval.

“That’s a classic for sure.” You reply, “Not one I would’ve expected from a college literature professor, but a classic nonetheless.”

He pushes himself off the desk, running his hands through his long locks before they make their way onto the arms of the seat.

“You don’t approve?” He scoffs.

“I didn’t say that, I just said it’s not one that I would expect.”

“I believe there is a difference between a personal and professional favorite. A favorite you could read over and over again, and you could enjoy without having to think too much about what it all means. it’s an adventure, its heroes and legends, it’s a call for relaxation and enjoyment. I’d rather have my favorite be a well-known classic than a deep thought-provoking story about purity.”

You fight every urge in you to slap the man sitting before you for disgracing such a beautiful novel. But you think about Meelo. You think about stepping outside of the echo chamber.

“I think we may have different opinions on favorites, Professor Kiszka.” You say shortly.

You feel the tension grow between you already. This would be a difficult semester. Even more difficult because as you felt your dislike for him grow, you couldn’t stop staring at the beautiful man sitting in front of you. His brown eyes stared deep into you, trying to assess his new assistant. You tried not to let him in too far. You were not fawning for him, at least you weren’t trying to. You wanted to fight off the growing warmth crying to spread through you. It was like seeing a handsome stranger in the bar; you knew the danger, but almost didn’t want to let yourself protect your heart.

He was by far the youngest professor here, and the most eligible. No ring was on his finger.

“Please, call me Jacob.”

You stood up from your seat, throwing your bag over your shoulder. You try to compose yourself enough not to let any distaste escape from your lips.

“Sorry, Professor Kiszka, I have finals I need to finish, it was a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to working with you in January. If you need anything from me before then, I believe the dean gave you my information.”

You reach your hand out awkwardly, trying to invite a handshake. He cautiously reaches his hand back, pulling you into a firm, but still gentle handshake.

His eyes meet yours. The deep brown staring into you. Although you should have the power from your standing position, you knew he held all the cards from his seat. The handshake lingered longer than you had expected, both of you locked deep into staring each other down. He finally releases his hand.

“It was a pleasure.” You start to leave the office, but he makes one last remark, “Oh, one last thing…”

You turn to face him, “Yes professor?”

He reaches into the desk and pulls out a cloth-bound book, handing it to you. You slowly return to the desk, taking the book from his hand—the Lord of the Rings.

“Try it for me? You do have a whole winter break…”

You rub your hands over the cover, smiling at his request. You place the book back in his hand.

“I used to read it as a child. No need to give it a try when you’ve read it four times already.” You smile at him.

Even if it wasn’t your favorite, didn’t mean it wasn’t a favorite.

Present

In some ways, your relationship with him felt like a love-lost marriage. Just moving through the motions. You sat in on the classes and took note of who engaged, and who didn’t. You graded assignments, tests, and papers, with him always double-checking and doubting your work. You didn’t sit in on long conversations with him like Meelo. Perhaps some of that was your fault, always quick to get to work. He adjusted to you quickly, understanding how you needed to work, and letting you grieve.

Meelo passed quickly into the semester. You cried once in front of him when the news broke. You nearly snapped his head off when he asked if he could help you. From that moment on he took on this cold persona, but you don’t blame him at all. You knew in your heart that you would not have the same connection with him as Meelo, so it was easier to never try.

Through everything, your work never faltered, and your school work remained the priority. Perhaps it was a way to hide through all the pain but the calculated steps it took to grade provided a soothing rhythm amongst the distress.

You never failed to notice all the times you caught him catching glances at you. You were silly to think that it meant anything more than just a quick look, but still maybe somewhere in your heart, you had hoped that maybe he was thinking of you more than his assistant. For weeks you watched him stroll into class, always wearing a disheveled but somehow put-together outfit. You loved seeing how he would piece together different clothes from his collection. Never repeating an exact outfit, but always finding new ways to repurpose the same items.

One day he walked in with a new addition to his look, a cluster of pendants on a necklace. They looked older, more worn in than any new silver. You asked him about it briefly, trying not to engage in a further conversation.

“They’re coins, Spanish coins, designed after ones from the 1600s. I think the jeweler lied to me when he said they were originals, but they still look okay… Do you think so?

“You look like a pirate.” You responded.

A sexy pirate. You shoved that thought deep into the back of your mind. Holding on to it, because you didn’t want to forget how good he looked.

His Thursday classes were always one of the better ones. This was one that you had to take yourself for your graduate program. There was no TA’ing involved as that would be a huge conflict of interest if you got to grade your papers. You chose to sit in the back corner of the class by the window, in hopes that when spring rolls around you could watch the foliage return. The unfortunate thing about this choice was the waiting. February was colder than you had expected and the windows provided no warmth.

When you were TA’ing you got to sit at the edge of the office and the classroom. Kiszka brought a space heater for you to place at the doorway. He joked he didn’t need his assistant ‘freezing to death’, because then ‘who would grade the papers’.

You tried your hardest to not let him favor you, but you knew he was someone who would be kind no matter how much you asked him to stop. He would leave books on the edge of his desk for you to read and when you tried to return them he declined and told you he already had a copy in his collection. You doubted that and always protested in fear that you thought you might lead him on. But in the end, it was always you walking out with a new book in your bag.

He was trying his hardest to get along with you. Some days it was easier and you would entertain his questions, but other days it was easier to be quick and move along. This relationship was not going to be a fairytale. You had already found your soulmate once, and you lost her. In your mind, there was no more room in your heart to let someone in. And why should you prepare space for someone if you truly don’t know if they want to be there?

This class although interesting became boring as the weeks went on. The class had fallen into a seasonal depression of sorts. Many like you had expected to have Meelo for the semester when you had booked your classes, so when Kiszka showed up and tried to shake things up… It wasn’t easy. He was skilled and smart, sure… But not the same. He craved involvement and wanted the class to join in with him, but often would push people further than they were willing to go. A room full of mid-20-year-olds was truly a space of burnout. Many of these students had already passed four, sometimes five years of school before they stepped into this class. They no longer have that lively interest in reading and analyzing literature but want to create their own.

“-And what was this author trying to convey through his use of metaphors?...” He asked from his commanding space at the front of the class, “No one?... No one picked up on this…? Or are you too scared to be wrong?”

Your attempts at fighting off eye-rolls also subsided the longer this course went on, and this roll came on hard. You’ve heard this line countless times through multiple classes. He wasn’t wrong, but he could at least find different ways to say the statement.

“Y/N? Care to enlighten everyone?” He calls to you, in need of saving the class who had lost attention nearly an hour ago.

“Sure. It’s a metaphor for how women are treated in society.” You answer.

He grits his teeth and sighs, “Not quite, but you’re close…”

You lift yourself from your slump, “No, that’s right. She is clearly trying to convey the expectations of women in society and how we are treated. As a female author, she leaves these metaphors to be very simple for female readers to understand. For males, it’s harder to grasp that the severity of these situations could imply the treatment of women, but that’s what she’s trying to explain.”

He clasps his hands together giving them a brief shake, “That class, that is how you analyze. Literature can be read in different ways by different readers. The author may have a clear intention of what they are trying to write, but others may be able to relate it to other aspects of their life. I have my own interpretation, and you all may have others. That is how this should be working. There is nothing wrong, with how you analyze, just that you have the knowledge to back it up…”

Every time you tried to make him out to be the bad guy, he ended up being in the right. You hated how smart he was. You hated how much you wanted to watch him while he stood up there. You hated how he wasn’t her. But you knew you didn’t want him to leave.

“So with that,” He continues, “Finish up the last few chapters and please come prepared with statements next week about your findings. I want you to dig deep; feel the author. I’ll see you next week.”

The class starts their shuffle for the door, while you meander to your usual spot at the doorway of the office. The next class wouldn’t be in for 20 minutes, but you would at least have time to warm up.

You click on the heater and walk over to Kiszka’s rolling desk chair. You take your coat off and rest it over the seat, pushing it over to the door. Kiszka finds his seat at the front of the classroom, pulling out his book of the week. He usually would try to follow you, asking you what you were reading, then the next day showing up to class with an identical copy. It was annoying and endearing how much he wanted to learn from you. You wondered if it upset him that you weren’t as keen on learning from him.

He confided in you that Meelo was an idol of his as well, and although he didn’t get to learn from her, he was going to try to through you.

You pull your copy of Anna Karenina from your bag and join him. Your chapters ahead of him, but you enjoy being one step in front of him.

You peep up from the back of the room, “I didn’t ask, but please tell me this isn’t your first time reading this.”

He lifts his head from the book slightly, eyes still skimming the page, “Third.”

You sigh in relief. That would’ve been embarrassing; for him.

You return to the book. You’re finding it harder to dive in today than usual, something is different… You see out of the corner of your eye that Kiszka has put down the book altogether, and you can sense him staring. This lasts a few moments, but you try to remain focused on the words, but catching yourself having to re-read the paragraphs; not processing the sentences you’ve already read.

A minute goes by and he hasn’t returned to his pages. Instead, you hear the squeak of his chair rolling over to his computer. A few clicks and a frenzy of taps on the keyboard.

“Hey.” He prods.

You look up again from the book. He peers at you over the edge of his computer and then closes it so he can see you better. He grasps his jaw lightly, stroking it in his hands.

“Yes?” You asked, trying not to seem annoyed by the interruption.

“Let’s go over your manuscript. I want to see it.” He continues.

No. It’s not time yet. You’ve been meticulously editing it for months now. He wasn’t supposed to read it until midterms, you were supposed to have more time…

You drop the book into your lap, “It’s not ready…” You close the book, “Also we have class in twenty minutes, you won’t be able to read it all by then.”

He stands up from his seat, straightening his vest out, “I canceled class. Pull it out.”

Two Hours Later

Some time had passed. You both sat in his office now. Him at… his… desk, and you still positioned by the heater at the door. At this point you were warm enough to finally take your sweater off, stripping down to a simple black t-shirt. You saw him staring through the pages when you pulled the sweater off. If he had looked any harder you think he might burn a hole through the book.

The office was silent except for the occasional click and clack of the heater, and the flickering of the candle on his desk. He flipped through the lightly bound pages while you continued through your reading. Every couple of minutes you could hear the stroke of his red pen hit the pages. The words or corrections will wait for you later. You could sit and scoff at them later in your apartment. The man said his favorite book was Lord of the Rings, how could you possibly trust his editorial judgment?

You had made it about a hundred or so pages through your book, which was slower than you would’ve liked. You still couldn’t breach the interferences. You thought the silence would help, but hearing his hums, his pen strokes, the occasional sip of scotch… It was all a distraction.

You couldn’t stop looking up from the book to watch him slyly admire your work. You knew your writing was good; Meelo had seen the early stages of it all. She heard the direction and loved every word… A complete sadness rushed over you thinking of how she would never see the final product.

Kiszka would adjust himself every few minutes; switching positions in his seat. You wanted to trust yourself enough not to look every time he shifted his hips, but those linen pants he loved so much left little to wonder about him. You had a closeness to him that you didn’t want to admit. As many differences as there were between you, there were just as many similarities. He was an outsider here; you could see that clearly. The other professors didn’t trust him because of his age- the students tried to walk all over him because of that too.

Even though you wanted to hate how pretentious he seemed, deep down you knew it was a facade to seem more studious to others. You saw the real him in glimpses. The kindness he offered to you that many others most likely wouldn’t have. Your youth and love for literature matched his perfectly, although you couldn’t always find the way to express it correctly. Your loyalty to Meelo prevented that at every chance.

Letting him read this manuscript was a big step that you didn’t fully even realize until he had reached the halfway point. You wanted to go and rip the pages out of his hand, throw them out the window, prevent him from seeing you too deeply… But something inside you needed to know what he thought of it.

Frustrated by your lack of progress, you lowered the book into your lap. You took this time to look around the room. It had changed so much since you had seen it back in December. Kiszka’s library had taken up the room, along with his record collection. When you would come by early in the morning to drop off the graded work, you would hear him playing some of it. Blues, rock, the classics. You never disturbed him during these times, it felt too intimate to interrupt. Instead, you would place the binder of essays on his classroom desk and scurry away before he could come to say hello.

You place your bookmark into the page opening. You calmly stand and place the book where you once sat. Quietly, you make your way over to his collection.

You see him peer up through the pages. Curious about your movements, watching you silently behind the manuscript.

You lower yourself to the floor, sifting through the jackets of the vinyls. Alphabetical. Of course. You make your way quickly through the a’s and land through the b’s. As cliche as it seems, you truly love Abbey Road, and of course, there it is front and center with the other Beatles albums. You pull it out from the shelf, removing the jacket carefully from the sleeve. You lift the vinyl out and place it on the record player. It’s a modern one, which feels very out of character for Kiszka. He always seemed like the type to randomly have every item of his be nothing newer than 20 years old.

You press play and lower the needle onto the music.

Come Together plays softly through the speakers. You turn to look back at him, seeing if there is any protest. Instead, he has the red pen out, slashing across the paper. You grit your teeth and try not to engage. You return to his collection, running your fingers along the remainder of the vinyl. The plastic tickles through your fingers, creating a click, click sound as each jacket releases from your hold.

Although you did want Kiszka to keep reading, you felt it was necessary to distract him, to try and persuade him to step away…

You continue from the vinyl collection, traipsing through the room. It’s like a library out of a movie, truly. You admired his office deeply and loved to gaze at it while he was lecturing. Sometimes when he was deep in his philosophy of literature speeches, you would lean back in the chair and try to read the book titles from afar. Your eyesight was good, but not good enough to make out the exact names of all of them. You never dared to peruse like this before, but this moment presented the perfect opportunity.

You were his captive for the remainder of his reading. Well… In all reality, you didn’t have to be here, but you didn’t dare leave that manuscript alone. It had been stored with you in your tote for the past month. You tried to take chunks of edits at a time, working through it yourself when you had time but didn’t want to share it with anyone until you felt that it was complete.

You tried to fight Kiszka off, but the notion of him canceling class meant that he found taking the time to do this very important…

The books that were displayed on these shelves were not the type of books that you would find at your local bookstore. They were older, worn in, some of them originals, even some you haven’t read yet. Maybe he did have some things that he could show you…

You make your way to the last set of bookshelves, rounding the back corner of the office. The last edge of the wall had his makeshift bar.

The liquor was all dark, amber-colored. Very manly, you thought to yourself. Bottles of whiskey and scotch lined the makeshift bar. Jack Daniels, Sazerac Rye, Macallan Double Cask… You recognized some of the labels.

Kiszka crept up behind you, “If you wanted a glass, you could’ve asked.”

He reaches down below you to fetch a rocks glass from the bar. He grabs the Macallan Double Cask and pours a finger for you. The alcohol flows effortlessly out of the bottle, barely splashing into the glass. He hands the glass to you, your hand brushing his. His touch is warm… Kind. He takes his other hand and grabs your shoulder, in a comforting way. You want to seem completely normal, but feel your cheeks getting rosy from the touch. You suck on your bottom lip and try to hide your face.

You take a large swig of the scotch, trying to be mindful of not wasting such a good drink. He looks at you, shocked at your ability to take it so easily.

“Wow. Good.” Is the only words he can mutter.

You smile meekly. The praise makes you feel undoubtedly shyer than you had just before.

“Are these originals?” You ask, pointing to the corner section of his library, “I couldn’t tell, and didn’t want to touch them if they were.”

“Many of them, yes,” He responds, “I trust that you would be gentle with them, please, which one were you curious about?”

You make your way over to the shelf, placing your drink down on the small table near the corner. You reach up to fold out the red bound book. Its title was completely faded from the binding, but we’re curious as to which one it was. He follows closely behind you, close enough to almost be on you.

He laughs, “Funny you should grab that..”

You open the cover to find Lord of the Rings printed in big black letters.

“Oh, dear god.” You sigh.

“It is an original if that makes you feel any better about it. I know you hate this book, but still-”

“No, no,” You protest, “I never said I hated it, I just said it wasn’t my favorite. Remember we have different opinions on that professor.”

He scoffs and takes the book from your hand. Rubbing the cloth binding with his thumbs.

“Want to know something funny?” He questions.

You did. You really did. You wanted the connection at this moment… For whatever cosmic reason it finally felt okay to banter with him. You nod your head, approving him to continue.

“I saw the movies before I read the books.” He laughs, “My brothers and I loved it, we were practically obsessed, but I was younger then and a stupid boy who didn’t read like I do now. Not the fairytale way most people find their favorite but it reminds me of childhood…”

You wanted to laugh, you wanted to make fun of him for it. But you knew that this was a special moment for him. A look into his past, a presentation for more. He places the book carefully back on the shelf, tucking it back into its spot.

“Well, I guess that makes more sense now. But, as a graduate professor, you ought to just say you like the pretentious shit. No one’s going to take you seriously.”

He turns from the shelf, “Who said I was worried about that? If I lie then I am a fraud. I don’t care if anyone says that.”

Oh fuck. His confidence is so intoxicating. He’s right. Why should he care?

“I just- I meant… I thought that the other professors-”

“You thought that they don’t take me seriously? Right. They don’t. In schools like this, you have to earn respect. I’m not an alumnus, I didn’t go to Harvard, but I do a damn good job at what I do. As much as you may protest some of my teaching, I know what I’m doing.”

He breezes past you and strolls back over to the bar to pour himself another drink. You reach back for yours and hold it between your hands, trying to collect yourself. You hope that you didn’t hurt him.

“Did I offend you?” You ask.

“‘Course not,” He takes a swig, “I just wish you would realize that it doesn’t matter what standards others hold you to. You are not someone else. You are you.”

“I know that.” You respond dryly. Your answer didn’t sound as confident as you wanted it to be. It came out unsure and desperate.

“Then why has your whole academic career been based on your relationship with one woman? Why must everything you do be for her?...”

You stand there silently. Completely struck with emotions. Anger, sadness, discouragement.

“She… She made me who I am,” You pipe, “She’s the reason I am in this program.”

He strolls back over to you, locking your eyes with his. It’s intimidating, this look he has on his face. He’s studying you, seeing how lost you feel. Truly for the first time you couldn’t even try to put up any walls. He had broken you down.

He places his hand on your shoulder again, “Can I show you something?” He asks.

Before you have time to even object to him, his hand moves from your shoulder to your waist, guiding you back towards his desk. You feel butterflies growing inside you.

No. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He is your advisor. He is not someone you should feel this way about. He’s trying to help you, he’s not interested in you.

The vinyl finishes its song and moves on to Something. He guides you into his seat. You place the glass down on the desk and wipe the condensation from your hands onto your thighs. He reaches over the desk and twirls the manuscript back in front of you. The pages sit open about two-thirds of the way through. He stands behind you, practically leaning on your back. His chest rests against your shoulder, pointing at the beginning of the page.

“See this paragraph here?” He questions.

You strain so hard to not melt at his touch. His hair is grazing your cheek. It smells wonderful, but you can’t admit that. He has this gentle but clean musk about him. He smells like a perfectly cared-for bookstore. A soft smell of tobacco and oak. The chains with pendants are draping over his neck, sparkling in the moonlight of the night, softly clanking together with his movement

You need to focus.

You respond, afraid that you waited too long, “Yes?” Your voice wavers, the lack of confidence creeping back through, “Is there something wrong with it?”

He turns to face you, “Yes. I have a big problem with it.”

You feel your heart sink. What could be wrong with it? The back half of the book is the best part, it is the part you feel most confident with. You feel confused. All of those walls and confidence you felt once in his presence were lost.

“What…? What problem?”

You look back at the pages, disregarding his closeness to you, pulling the bundle of paper back towards you, and flipping through to the previous pages. He puts his hand on yours, stopping you from searching. He lowers himself next to the seat, squatting to be at your eye level. His thumb wanders back and forth over your wrist.

He smiles a crooked and cunning smile, “It’s some of the best writing I’ve seen in years, and the author was too scared to even share it with anyone. She lost someone and had to do this all on her own. That’s terrifying, but it’s still her work. ”

You look at the hand holding yours. It’s strong but has a softness to it. It has a few rings sitting on them, but none a wedding band. You lower your head and release your wrist, grabbing it with your other hand. You sigh heavily and grasp your hands in front of the pages. Your hands travel up to hide your face, which presents a melancholic smile that you can’t let go of. You can’t tell if it’s the liquor or his presence, but you feel a glow coming from inside.

You rush your hands past your face and through your hair, resting your hands on the back of your neck. Scoffing, you turn to look at him. His amused smile is irresistible.

“You,” He starts, “Are an amazing writer.” His hand lifts from the pages and reaches up towards your cheek, holding your face in his palm, “And no matter who your teacher is, you can still do it on your own.”

Your hand finds its way up to his arm, holding him back. Staring longingly at each other. Both deep down knowing that this was about to lead down a path you couldn’t return from.

“Professor-” You initiate.

“Jacob.” He replies.

“Fine… Jacob. This- I… I don’t think.”

He quickly removes his hand from your face and comes to his senses. “Oh, dear, um… I’m so sorry y/n… I…”

You let yourself slump in the seat. How could you? How could you squander that moment? After years of wishing to find a man who was at least half as interested in literature as you… Here you are throwing it away. But you could be right to do so. He was your professor, you were his assistant, the moral implications of this all…

Jacob stands and leans back onto the desk, stroking his chin, concerned. Thinking about it all. You can see the nerves climbing through him. He feels embarrassed.

You reach your hand up to your face again, burying your emotions into your skin.

“I just thought- I, fuck.” He continues, “I thought we were turning a corner, I was looking and I thought I saw you-”

“You did.” You respond, “...I was looking.”

You lower your hand from your face to stare back at him. You put the manuscript back on the desk and stand.

“You… You were?” He searches for the answer.

“Jacob… For months I have looked. I didn’t want to like you. I didn’t want to admit that to myself. My mentor was my heart and soul, she was everything to me. I didn’t want to give you any chances because I didn’t want to lose someone like that again… I can’t handle that heartbreak. But…” You trail off.

“But?” He inquires.

You reach for the scotch glass and swirl the liquid around. Staring deep into the stormy amber.

“Fuck it.” You take the last of the scotch into your mouth and turn back to Jacob, “You… You are what I’ve wanted. I can’t deny the way I feel when it’s just us. When I see you deep in thought, when you push me to go further; when you challenge me. When we’re alone, and I see you for the man you are. When I see how genuinely fucking amazing you are. And I’m so mad at myself for not opening myself to you.”

Jacob peels himself off the desk and stances himself in front of you. He grabs your hands and holds them tenderly in his. You drop your head, your hair falling over your frustrated expression.

“You were grieving, you wouldn’t have been ready for this.” He reaches his hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

You look up to him with doe eyes. He was the older man, coming in for the prey. You wanted to be his. You wanted to have him. You wanted it. You denied it for months. You denied it from the moment you saw him. You denied yourself to knowing him in fear that this exact moment would happen. But here you were. Unveiling yourself to him in the very place you felt the first attraction.

“I want to be ready. No, I am ready. I want this. I can’t deny myself happiness because of everything that happened,” You said.

“Are you sure?” He asked. Trying to test you.

You nod your head in approval, trying once again to keep the emotions bottled in.

“I don’t want you to feel any pressure because-”

“Please don’t say it. I know. I know this is all morally fucked up, but I’m an adult, you’re an adult. Just treat me like one.”

He smiles, admiring your maturity, “If you want to do this, there are some things we have to settle first.”

You look up at him confused, “Things? What things?”

“More like rules,” He answers, titling his head playfully, “I need to know what you’re comfortable with. I don’t want to scare you even more than you already seem.”

He returns his hand to hold your face, just like he previously had only moments before.

“I’m not scared Jacob. What rules?”

“As much as I like to be gentle with women, I also enjoy being rough.” He says through a velvety tone

You jolt back, at first fearful of his words, but relax quickly, reminding yourself you don’t need to be scared.

“How rough are we talking…” You prod.

The cunning smile returns across his face, “Don’t worry, I don’t leave marks, at least too bad of marks… And only rough enough that you’ll still be wanting more by the time we’re done.”

You bite your lip at the thought. You’re no virgin at this point in your life, but you’ve never been able to explore this type of intimacy. Every man in college is practically an amateur at pleasuring women and even more so when it comes to exploration in sex. You’ve read plenty of books to know about the type of sex he was talking about. As much as you enjoyed the classics and the light-hearted romance, you still found yourself picking up a steamier romance book in private.

You wanted that. Had practically dreamed about it before…

Being here with this man, who was only a few years your senior, felt like you could practice this fantasy safely. He knew what he was doing, he could show you pleasures you didn’t even know you could enjoy. Even if you felt like you couldn’t learn more from your education with him, perhaps there were other things he could teach you. It was all becoming a bit too exciting.

His hand moves slowly down from your cheek to your waist. His palms gently grazed your spine until they locked in on your love handles.

“So,” He continues, “Are you going to be my good girl? Can you be good for me? Do you think you can take it?”

You reach out to his chest, moving aside his shirt which had barely been buttoned. With one swipe down his sternum, you unlatched all of them revealing his smooth golden skin. He watched you intently, seeing you explore his skin like never before. You traced your fingers along the opening, feeling your need to reach more grow. With each second that passed you felt the insatiable thirst to be close to him; to feel him. His grip on your waist tightened with each pass you made over his chest.

His other hand joined him on your opposite side. You feared that your hips may break with his excited hold. You looked up at him, biting your lip, trying to remain coy. That soft smile appeared on his lips; you had answered with your body language.

He pushes his hands further into you and lifts you onto the desk, your ass barely resting on the edge of the wood.

“Words,” He said, pulling himself closer into you, resting perfectly between your legs, “Nothing’s going to happen until you tell me you want it to. This isn’t going to work sweetheart unless you use your words.”

“Jacob-” Are the only breathy words that you can mutter.

You can feel him growing, feel the linen pants barely holding back his excitement. You feel your heartbeat travel from your chest, down into your stomach, into your…

His hand moves up to your jaw, holding it firmly in his grip, “Y/N, follow the instructions. Words. I’m not going to wait much longer.”

“Yes-”

Before you can even finish he’s pulling you into an embrace. Your lips meet his. The soft taste of scotch remaining on both of you created an intoxicating addicting feeling. It was complete passion, complete neediness to be one. His tongue introduces itself into your mouth… Soft, wet. Beckoning. The noises you both are making sound feral, completely unusual for the both of you. What once was a prim and proper relationship between you became a fervent desperation to touch… To fuck.

His hands traveled down your body, first reaching your chest, grasping you completely in his hand. Rolling his palms over the front of your breasts, driving you completely mad. You wished the barriers of clothing had been completely stripped away, but he was too hungry to even keep you waiting for long. His hands reached under your shirt, plowing underneath the wire of your bra to find your naked breasts. A soft relieving moan escaped your lips through the breaths of the kissing.

You reached your hands out to find the remainder of the buttons of his vest closing you off to his body. You made quick work of unbuttoning them, reaching your hands across his midsection; climbing to his back. Reaching up towards his shoulders, feeling the softness of his skin across the pads of your fingers. God, he was perfect.

His fingers traveled to your nipples, running his thumb and forefinger over the bud of your nipples. Before you could even realize what you were doing, your nails dragged down his back, raking into his skin. He paused the kissing for a moment to let out a moaning growl. He slid his hands out from your bra, slipping down to the edges of your shirt, attempting to tug it off as fast as he could. You snatched your hands out of his shirt to raise them over your head, giving him complete access to strip you.

He placed his hand between your breasts and forced you down onto the desk, your head falling onto the manuscript below you. He shook off his vest and was quick to pull his shirt off.

“Seems like I’m not the only one who likes it rough, huh?” He asked.

You lifted your head from the desk, “No, definitely not.” You responded. Unsure where this untamed version of you had even come from.

“No, sir” He stated, pushing you back down.

“What?” You asked, skeptical of what he meant.

He mounted himself once again between your legs, grinding himself into you. He traced his finger down your neck, to the waistline of your pants.

“Sir… That’s what my good girls going to call me, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, unaware that you were even doing so, “Call me Jacob,” you mock, “Call me sir.”

He reached back up to your jaw, pushing his thumb into your cheek, “If you’re going to be a brat we’re going to need to set some more rules. Good girls don’t get punished, but you’re already testing me.”

Completely stunned, you look back at him trying to emulate a softness, an apology. You had to admit though, you weren’t scared of him… If anything you were more turned on by the thought of his punishments.

“And how would you punish me, sir?” You ask in your best sultry voice.

He let out a low grumbling laugh. He studied your body, not even acknowledging your question, just thinking… Thinking of what he would do to you. He grabbed onto your hips and pulled you hard into his cock. There was no wondering anymore. You could feel how large he was, how excited he was. If your own body wasn’t blocking it you could probably see it entirely.

“Maybe,” He starts, “Maybe you’re not going to be my good girl,” His hands dig deeper into your waist, “Maybe, you’re going to be my little slut.”

The word echoed through the room. It sent a shiver down your spine, but not the feeling of being displeased, it was a feeling of being right. Being here with him, being under his control, felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off your shoulders. He could see you in a way that someone hasn’t seen you for months. He was learning every inch of you and would learn even more as the night went on.

He leaned down from his high position to plant gentle kisses along your neck. Gingerly leaving behind little reminders of passion.

“-And if you’re going to be my slut,” He whines through breathy kisses, “you need to know the safe words.”

You run your hands up to his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingers. Tracing his scalp over your fingertips. You don’t want to go this slow, the breaks are killing you. You just want to feel him. You want to feel him on you, in you, taking you completely as his own.

His kisses finally reach the band of your jeans, but that doesnt stop him from exploring further. He pulls down on the jeans to reveal more of your stomach, delivering gentle almost tickling kisses.

“Green,” He whispers, “Means you like it… You don’t want me to stop.”

His hand travels over to the button of your jeans, popping the metal away from the denim. Your eyes follow him, watching his hair fall over your stomach, the metal of his necklace chilling your bare skin. His shoulders look strong here, masculine, powerful. Watching him focus so intently on you is killing you. This is a man unlike any other that you’ve been with, he’s focused on treating you first, even if there were some other pleasures in it for him.

“Yellow,” The zipper slowly starts to unravel as he pulls your pants further down, “Means you need me to slow down… If you need a break…”

Your pants steadily fall off of your legs, finally being exposed to him entirely until they fall onto the floor. The only thing separating you from him now is your thong. Which you are now praising yourself for wearing today. He resumes his consuming kisses across your midsection, joining back down where he had left off. His hands slip underneath him to grab the edges of the lace, sliding off the thong with ease.

His kisses start to graze you closer to your…

He stops and lifts himself. His hand leads up to your mouth, putting his pointer and middle finger into your mouth. You accept them, excited for what it means.

“Red.” His voice develops a more serious tone, “Means stop.”

He removes his now slick fingers from your mouth, returning them down below. His fingers reach your cunt, and you welcome him with excitement of your own. Your body is in shambles waiting, wanting to know what it feels like. His fingers dance across your aching clit, his thumb padding the bundle of nerves, sending shockwaves through your deprived body. A loud distressed moan escapes you, you can’t help but express your enthusiasm.

“Don’t worry sir,” You shudder through achy moans, “I don’t think I’ll need to use that one.”

“Good girl.”

Without any hesitation his fingers breach you, filling you up. He stands over you, watching you grow with the agony of pleasure. Your breath hitches with each pump, your back arching with each lift of his fingers. His thumb traces back over your clit, stimulating every inch of you.

Every attempt at communicating the feeling faulters, except for, “Oh fuck-”

Your body is shaking with each movement. He’s painting the perfect picture of an orgasm with just one hand. The power he holds, the knowledge he has. He knew how to please you better than you knew how to.

His free hand makes its way around your neck, gripping it, holding you in place so he can work harder at you. You’ve never been choked before, it’s a completely new sensation. The gasps for air were something you thought you’d fear, but instead, you were wishing he’d hold on harder.

“Green?” He asks, looking for permission.

You nodded your head ferociously

You feel yourself completely letting go under his control, something you feared once to let him have all the power. But here, now, held down to his desk… You never wanted it to stop.

“Words.” He barked.

Your hand reaches up to hold his wrist, “Yes, yes…”

“Yes, what?” He asks again, his fingers slowing their movement. Clearly, he wouldn’t be letting you get away with anything. You had to be obedient and do as he told you.

“Yes… Please, Sir,” You beg.

The words were getting harder to communicate. If he could finger you into oblivion, you might let him if it meant you could feel this good again.

He smiled in approval and resumed his previous pace. Steadily building faster, and faster. Harder and harder. You could feel how wet you were becoming, it really didn’t take much for him to draw the excitement out of you. The swirls of his fingers and the vigor of his motions were precise… Calculated, trying to accomplish only one mission; and he was close to succeeding.

Your moaning only got more frequent and louder, you couldn’t hold back. The pleasure was far too great to stay quiet. He almost let you be loud too, only for a few moments before reminding you of your location. He lifted his hand off your neck to lift a single finger to his lips and then pointed around the room.

“If my good girl can’t stay quiet, I’ll have to make her. We don’t want anyone spoiling all the fun.”

You nod your head, remembering you were still in his office. Your surroundings had escaped you completely; only thinking of him and you.

His thumb started to apply more pressure, practically begging for you for more. A softer moan forced its way out, helpless to be silenced. His hand plasters itself over your mouth, holding you silent. The pads of his fingers resting deep into your cheeks.

“I know baby, it’s so hard… You’re gonna be so good and come for me now, okay?”

Finally being relieved of speaking, you nod your head, ready for the climax. His fingers dive upward, grazing the sweet spot buried inside of you. The pressure, the sensation it’s all too much. You feel your belly tighten, your back arching. He’s trying to hold you steady as you writhe in pleasure. There’s no stopping anything now.

“Do it baby, come on… Be a good little slut for me…”

Your eyes roll deep back into your head. You feel the sweet sensation of release wash over you. Like a wave of ecstasy, traveling from your toes, past your aching clit, through your belly, all the way to your head. Stifled moans slip through the cracks of his fingers. His fingers stay at their steady pace, pushing past your orgasm. You feel yourself dripping around him. You’ve never come this hard in your life, you’ve never felt the devotion to make you feel this good. Your body is quivering around him, unable to shake the overstimulation. You’re squeezing onto his wrist, trying to come down easy, but everything he’s doing is making the sensations crash into you.

He takes his hand away from your mouth and you immediately gasp for air, trying to find serenity.

“Oh god,” You moan, “How did you-”

He shuts you up by taking his mouth to your soaked cunt, sliding his tongue through the mess he made. You place your hands beside you to sit up slightly. This was a sight you did not want to miss. You take his hair in your hands and tuck it aside. Each stripe of his tongue makes you wince, you want him to stop, but you can’t let him. It feels too good. It’s too much but just the right amount all at once.

He was consuming you, desperate to explore every inch of you. Wildly eating you up, trying to capture every last drop of his work. You were spilling into him, it was never-ending. It was like you weren’t even there; everything except your pusy. This was a high that you never wanted to come down from. He was devoted to keeping you there as long as he could, but you couldn’t hold on for more.

You fell back onto the desk, squirming through it all. He had you right where he wanted you. You let yourself fall into him, trying to take it all. Your hands reach over the desk, trying to find somewhere to hang onto, but instead knocking the scotch glass off the desk. Shattering loudly beneath you.

Jacob didn’t stop though, he was completely distracted, locked in. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Yellow.. Yellow..” You begged, completely overstimulated and shocked. How could you even ask for that?... But it was impossible to withstand any more sensation.

He stopped slowly, easing you out of the enjoyment. His hands reached up over your thighs and rested on your hips, slowly petting them with his thumbs. He looked up at you through glazed-over eyes, completely drunk on your arousal. He didn’t want it to end.

Slowly raising himself back to a standing position, you could see how hard he had gotten. He felt just as much pleasure as you did. He was completely lost, coming back to reality. Chin dripping with your wetness…

He leaned back over you and kissed you sloppily. The passion was more fiery than before. You did something to him and he did even more to you. It was strange to taste yourself on his lips, but exciting nonetheless. You were caught up together. Complete and one at that moment. And then it all stopped…

Footsteps approached outside the classroom. You both stopped. He removed himself from your lips and raised his head to listen.

A knock at the classroom door.

“Hello?” Someone called out.

There was no mistaking that someone was in this office, between the music, the glass breaking… They knew.

“Everything okay in here Kiszka?”

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. He stands and reaches for his shirt, buttoning it with no haste. He grabs your shirt and pants and kicks them under the desk, “Go, get underneath the desk,” He whispers, “Now.”

#jake kiszka #greta van smut #gvf fic #gvf smut #jake kiskza x reader #jtk x reader #jake gvf #professor fic #gvf #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka gvf #jake kiszka series #jake kiszka angst #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet smut

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sharonccrter · 5 months ago

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Do you think there’s still a way they can fully redeem Lestat’s character for those viewers that don’t get past 1x05? I’ve never read the books so it kinda annoyed me that they would add a scene like this and potentially ruin the future of the character without it even being canon. I felt there was a chance they could have retconned it as a memory manipulation or something (I was fully expecting the memory to be a mesh of what Armand did to Lestat in the books (presumably??)) but that’s not gonna happen now.

Tbh it doesn’t bother me personally, I loved the apology scene and that it was clearly shown as something inexcusable and Lestat himself acknowledges it, but im not sure if it’s enough.

Another thing that I think the writers were trying to portray but some people aren’t really seeing is that Louis is a bit of a hypocrite. He attacks Lestat pretty brutally for putting hands on Claudia, but he himself does it later in the show. And then he excuses Armand for threatening Claudia and also doing the exact same thing?? But a lot of the audience won’t see those things as wrong because of how graphic and horrible that drop scene was in comparison (Which it totally was, it’s just that the writers don’t seem to see that they’re not comparable?).

On the other hand, I like Lestat being a complex character. There’s a lot they can do in s3 with his back story (I. e. Cycles of abuse with his father and maker that they hinted at). But I feel like there’s a big portion of the audience that won’t be accepting of it.

Basically I feel like the writers are a bit out of touch with their audience and how they’re writing is perceived, which is worrisome going forward😬

Sigh. This turned into a a word vomit and I apologize lmao but I was curious on your take

Eh, some people will never get over it, and that's their loss; in my opinion, they haven't ruined anything about Lestat's character. Yes, the scene was not in the book, but I understand why they did it, even if I'm not in love with the idea. It was for shock value but also to give Lestat more of an 'arc'.

I think it comes down to the fact that none of the characters are good people, Lestat has always been a deeply morally grey character who's done fucked up things, but he's such a compelling and exciting character that Anne Rice literally made him the main character and wrote 14 books from his POV.

She never claimed he was a good person, but he is a good character to write and read about. And yes, while I don't excuse Lestat's actions towards Louis. I do agree it's hypocritical for fans to say, "Louis was justified to act violently to Lestat because he laid hands on Claudia," when Louis has also laid hands on Claudia himself. Not to mention, Louis sat back and let Armand treat Claudia badly, and when she called him out, he had the audacity to say, "That doesn't sound like him."

Louis has always centred himself as the victim of the story. He even admits in episode 2x07 that he made himself more passive in the telling of how Claudia was made. Because he wasn't ready to face the bad shit he's done, and that's Louis's whole freaking character. I have to be honest here, Anon. I hated Louis in book 1; I do love him in the show because Jacob Anderson has done a fantastic job, but sometimes I just meh about the character.

If Lestat has a lot to atone for, and he does, he's not a good person, then Louis has a lot to atone for, too. I mean, hell, I even love Armand, the messy bitch that he is, because they're all bad people; that's literally point. And Yes, some people may not be able to get past 1x05, and hey, I do think there is still more to the story since Sam and the writers hinted at it being revisited in S3; but that's their problem.

I don't think the writers are out of touch; I think media literacy is dead, and people just don't know how to have fucking fun anymore. They also clearly don't understand what gothic horror is. But honestly, anon, I'm reaching the point where I don't care. They can either get on board or get off the train.

Also never apologise for sending long anons, happy to chat as long as you like :)

#amc interview with the vampire #amc iwtv #interview with the vampire #lestat de lioncourt #louis pointe du lac #loustat

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thetoxicgamer · 2 years ago

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Assassin’s Creed is Too Big – AC: Mirage Has to Be Smaller and Shorter

The sprawling stealth RPG game Assassin's Creed from Ubisoft has grand goals for scale and historical scope. The games have a lot to say. For example, when you launch Assassin's Creed: Syndicate, an in-game dialogue prompts you to read more than 50 "codex entries" before you even move as Jacob Frye. This dedication to thoroughness and accuracy is probably good in a way, but Assassin's Creed: Mirage, which releases before Codename Red and AC: Infinity, needs to be shorter, smaller, and more focused on stealth if the AC series is to remain interesting. There’s this common conflation in videogames – with Assassin’s Creed being a premier examples – between quantity and value. From developers to players, “more” is synonymous in gaming with “better” – longer playtimes, varied features, and different playable modes are the signifiers of a good, or at least “worth your money” videogame. This goes back about as far as I can remember: in 1997, Final Fantasy VII felt like it was a more valuable and quality game because it came on three discs rather than one. But I think the butterfly that flapped its wings, and caused our current dynamic where anything below 20 hours, and without open-world elements is likely to be regarded as less valuable, is Assassin’s Creed 2. Assassin’s Creed 2 was a fawning, grovelling apology for the first Assassin’s Creed. If the first game had you doing the same follow/listen/assassinate missions over and over again, Assassin’s Creed 2 had sidequests, customisation, your own personal mansion, and multiplayer-driven spinoffs. It created a kind of template for open-world games thereafter. From Far Cry to MGS 5, and even something smaller scale like Remedy’s Control, that format, whereby you travel between map sectors, start with small quests, work your way up to a boss encounter, use the resources and points you’ve gained to upgrade yourself, and then repeat with the next zone, finds its initial, defining form in AC 2. At the time it was unbelievable – so much to do! So much to see! They’ve really listened to the fans! But in the last 13 years, Assassin’s Creed has expanded, swelled, and gorged on itself (and other games, including and especially from Ubisoft, have copied its format to such an extent) that it feels difficult to assign it any credible identity. It’s a stealth action RPG puzzle platformer set in the past and future, following the Greeks, Vikings, Knights, Templars, alongside the American, and French Revolutions, in Victorian London, and Renaissance Italy, and Ancient Egypt, and Syrian Holy Lands, across 12 main games and several spin-offs encompassing single-player and multiplayer. I suppose that sounds almost standard nowadays for a big gaming franchise, but when it comes to delivering something cogent and solid about its respective historical periods, or an intelligible story, or systems and mechanics that are focused and refined, it feels as if Assassin’s Creed is spread way too wide, and so I offer some potential changes that I would like to see made for Assassin’s Creed: Mirage. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x55lAlFtXmw First, drop the futuristic stuff. That Desmond Miles, Abstergo, Animus frame narrative, I’ve always suspected it was a concession made to convention and marketability in the first Assassin’s Creed that ended up just sticking – in 2007, a game set entirely within 11th-century Damascus might have been viewed as too unusual, too new, and too likely to distance action and RPG game fans, so the modern-day narrative was built around and on top of Assassin’s Creed to try and make it more accessible and palatable. But all it’s really done is make AC more contrived. Which one sounds better? A game where you play an assassin in Ancient Greece, or a game where you play someone who becomes an assassin in Ancient Greece by lying inside a machine that creates a virtual reality simulation out of their biologically encoded memories? I would say it’s the first one – simpler, firmer, and more true to the AC series’ ambitions towards capturing history. So, Assassin’s Creed: Mirage can just cut out the middle person. I want to play as an assassin in ninth-century Baghdad. I don’t want to play as someone who themselves is playing as an assassin in ninth-century Baghdad. Second, I don’t think that Assassin’s Creed needs to be an RPG any more. In 2009, with the release of AC 2, the size of Ubisoft’s game world and the myriad options and paths it offered to players was – if not unique – then at least distinctive and laudable in how expertly it was delivered. Now, to make a kind of rhetorical generalisation, it’s like everything is an RPG; everything is open-world. The same size, scale, and variation that once made Assassin’s Creed stand out is now what makes it feel like every other videogame. If the series needs its identity back, if Assassin’s Creed might become again what it once was, a videogame like no other, it needs to be shorter, leaner, and committed to maybe sacrificing player freedom and expression for the sake of its historical drama. Put more simply, I would rather a 10-hour game that handholds me through a series of deliberately designed missions and moments, and in the process offers a cohesive, perhaps even subjective view of history, than a 40-plus-hour game where I can do whatever I want, and the history is laid out for me, like so many books in a library. I think you learn and feel more in a game when the developer, as it were, remains on hand to guide you through its various pretensions. Assassin’s Creed, particularly in recent years, feels incredibly lonely, like Ubisoft is simply loosing us into a jungle of missions, things to do, and things to see, but without offering the required – and much more fulfilling — context and guidance. And lastly, I would like Assassin’s Creed to abandon its ongoing and serial narrative – rather than hooking everything together with Knights, Templars, and this ever-present historical conflict, I would sooner each game serve as a standalone episode in a kind of anthology, with their own characters, own settings, and own start-and-finish stories. It’s the infinitude of Assassin’s Creed that is really starting to weaken it, the endlessness and, as a result, thinness and diffuseness of its plot that never seems to reach any kind of conclusion, and gets dragged over into each successive game via increasingly contrived premises. One game, one setting, one plot. Next game, a different setting, different characters, and a plot that begins and ends without any attempts to build an encompassing, multi-entry “universe”. Focusing on a specific place in history each time, without needing to conjure in all the storyline baggage from three or four or five games ago, would let Assassin’s Creed give more attention to the details, finer points, and realities of their settings. Queen Victoria could just be Queen Victoria, rather than being manipulated from behind the scenes by the Knights Templar. From there, Assassin’s Creed could seriously start to explore the facts of history and deliver some more potent drama as a result. Will any of this happen? The cynic in me says absolutely not. Meanwhile, the part of me that hates the part of me that’s a cynic wants to think so – possibly, maybe. Assassin’s Creed: Infinity, the ostensible multiplayer hub designed to somehow tie the whole franchise together, causes me doubt, even from its name. Mirage, Codename Red, and Codename Hexe however, which seem to be positioned as smaller games, isolated from the main body of AC, give me a little hope. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gD_DemeUuy8 When the first game launched in 2007, I admired its vision, its commitment, so to speak, “to the bit”. A stealth game set in 11th century Syria. In the time of Call of Duty 4, Halo 3, and the long tail of Gears of War, Assassin’s Creed – conceptually at least – felt like something completely different. Thanks to its own success, and dozens of games emulating the format laid down in AC 2, the series now is basically like everything else. Given a bit of a reboot, a hard reset, and a re-commitment to some of its initial aspirations, Assassin’s Creed could be made much better. If you’re a big Assassin’s Creed fan, you might want to try some other great open-world games. There are also some fantastic stealth games on PC, as well as sandbox games where you can explore even further your inner hit-person. Read the full article

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chippedaxe · 3 years ago

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Hi, how are you? You literally write so well. Can i pls request Karl trying to get the female reader pregnant maybe? Like they were both talking about it and they say that they're reader and Karl literally just gets to work lmao also dom! Karl pls?

┌─────━┿──┿━─────┐

Title: Baby Making

Warnings: NSFW (Minors DNI), cursing, breeding, pregnancy mentions, no protection, sub reader, pet names?, hair pulling, praising, soft sex

Pronouns: She/her Afab

Synopsis: The reader gets bred by Karl Jacobs.

Word count: 1.5k

Note: I don’t know a lot about pregnancy tbh, I’ve never been pregnant before.

- idk if this story actually makes sense, I didn't proof read (or edit)

*I'm good ty for asking (and ty for the compliment) ! Altho i wrote this when my fingers were cold :(

└─────━┿──┿━─────┘

You sat across the room from your loving boyfriend, twiddling your thumbs together as you tried to think about what to say next. You had no idea how to bring this concept up with him, you felt as if he wouldn’t be ready and would shut you down and you were worried as fuck. Karl leaned back in his chair and sighed “I know something’s on your mind, you wanna spit it out baby?” he asked you with a hushed voice.

“Y- yes actually, I’ve been wanting to bring this up with you for some time now but uh.. I just could never find the right words..” you lowered your head and tried to figure it all out “Oh uh- this isn’t gonna be something bad is it? I promise I’ll be better- If this is about my reluctance towards my chores than I swear I’ll drop it!” he exclaimed “No- no!” you couldn’t help letting out a little laugh at his silliness.

“Karl darling, I love you so so much.. And I was thinking..” you glanced away from him. “You were thinking what, sweetheart?” Karl got up from his chair and walked over to you, grabbing your hands and forcing you to look him in the eyes “Oh don’t look at me like that Karl!” your face heated up and you pushed him away gently. “Like what?” he smiled at you and you smiled back, many thoughts rushing through your head as you knew exactly what you wanted.

“I want a family with you.” you had finally blurted it out, lost in Karl’s eyes as you stared back at him. “You want what?” Karl was taken back “I want a baby- is that too much? I can wait if you’re not ready..” you started to apologize “I didn’t mean to make you-” he stopped your talking by shutting you up with a kiss “Of course I want that! I’d love to have little me’s running around- I just never would’ve thought that you’d.. You know..” he blushed a bit.

“You never thought I’d what?” you teased “I never thought you’d actually bring it up! I thought the thought of pregnancy would terrify you!” Karl explained “It did at first but then I saw how happy other couples were with their children and I just knew that was what I wanted..” you reached out and cupped Karl’s face “You mean the family we saw yesterday at the supermarket? I thought the same thing..” Karl leaned in and kissed your face all over.

“No matter what gender our baby is- I want them to have a gender neutral name” Karl explained “Of course if you had a specific name in mind then I wouldn’t care but-” he shrugged “Anything is fine with me, I love you” you wrapped your arms around him and brought him into a tight hug. “So- we should get started then, huh?” Karl whispered in your ear, you didn’t have much time to process what he’d actually said until you replied with “Yeah- we should.”

Your clothes were torn off in a matter of seconds, underwear thrown somewhere on the floor and your bra nowhere to be seen. “Oh wow!” you gasped as Karl towered over you “This okay? You want me to go slower?” Karl asked you but you shook your head “I love this new energy in you!” you smiled up at him “yeah, you do?” he leaned down and placed a quick kiss on your lips. You leaned your head back onto the pillows and then smiled in delight as you watched Karl slip his shirt off, tossing it behind him and then working his way to getting his belt undone.

Karl unbuckled his belt and began to pull at it, keeping eye contact with you every moment as he got undressed. You lowered your eyes and watched him take off his belt, noticing a very noticeable bulge growing in his pants. Karl straddled your body, legs on either side of you as he began to kiss your body. He nipped and sucked on the soft parts of your skin, hands rubbing up your sides and groping your soft mounds of flesh.

You squirmed a bit, writhing in pleasure and pure bliss. Karl kissed down your neck, biting it gently every so often just to keep your attention. Karl’s hands groped your breasts, fingers pinching your soft nipples “ah..” you gasped. Karl licked them, leaving his warm saliva on your nipples and watching them harden as the air grew colder.

"Oh this is new.." you smiled "Gotta get used to this, hun" Karl winked back at you. Your hand flew to his head, fingers running through his brown locks, tugging a bit on accident when your fingers found a knot in his hair "ah-" Karl let out a soft moan. "Oh you like that, do you?" you grinned as you repeated your action and pulled his head back away from your chest.

Karl bit his lip as he stared at you, admiring your face and body with his eyes. "Oh you're so gorgeous, darling" he jumped on top of you and pressed his lips against yours, teeth grazing against your lip as he was desperate to get his tongue in your mouth "mm-calm down!" you gasped as his desperation. He had never been so hungry for you in his whole life.

Karl grabbed your hips, sliding his hands down to squeeze and grope at your thighs. His tongue glided around the inside of your mouth, the sensation making you groan and clench your thighs together. Karl slapped your leg at your reaction, causing you to jolt a bit and open them back up again. Karl pulled away for a moment "Keep them open, love" he told you before going back in for another kiss full of heat and passion.

Your hands found themselves sliding up Karl's chest and feeling his warm skin. You pulled your head off Karl to breathe, huffing and puffing while trying to catch your breath "Breathless already? But we've only just begun, Darling do you need a break?" Karl rubbed your back gently and looked you in the eyes.

"I'm fine, baby- just finding it hard to keep up with your fast pace!" you admitted "I can get a bit carried away- should I slow down?" he asked again "no way! And if you ask again then I'm gonna slap you!" you joked around "And what if I want you to?" he smirked. You met his smart remark with a slap, stunning him for a moment "oh you sure are strong, darling- I hope our child is as tough as you.." he leaned in.

"I hope they're as caring as you, my love" you caressed his cheek and nuzzled his face. Karl started to massage your thighs gently as you two longingly gazed at each other, his hand somehow finding its way between your legs and rubbing your clit gently. "mm.." you hummed in pleasure, feeling yourself melt away in his touch. "This feel good, hun?" Karl asked "very." you gave him a quick kiss.

You slid your legs open a little wider so Karl could slide in between them "Think you're ready for me, darling?" Karl asked "Always ready for you, my love.." you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him again. You nipped at Karl's bottom lip in surprise as he suddenly thrust inside of you "Oh I'm so sorry, dear!" you apologized "Don't worry, just kiss it better" he smiled and kissed you again.

You kissed him a lot, you couldn't help it, his face was too adorable to be left unkissed! Karl's cock stretched against your walls, your vagina squeezing around him "ah- that feel's so good.." you grasped onto his shoulders and yelped when Karl suddenly pushed himself in deeper. His cock head was prodding deep inside of you, the sensation making you squirm "feel's weird- and good" you exclaimed.

"Where? Here?" he asked as he kept rubbing up against that certain spot, making you wiggle around on the bed "Darling. Stay still" Karl sighed and pinned you down. Your hands came off of Karl, now gripping onto the blankets to try and keep you from moving around too much.

"Love- I think I'm gonna cum. Are you ready for this?" Karl placed a hand over yours, looking deep into your eyes "Y-yes- I'm ready!" you nodded your head. Karl burst his load inside of you, his hot seed coating the inside of your vagina and leaking out a bit down your legs "oops- looks like we're gonna have to fill you up again, what do you say?" Karl smiled sweetly. You groaned and leaned back on the bed "Round 2 it is." you replied as you got comfortable, you were gonna be here a while.

#karl jacobs x reader smut #karl jacobs smut #c!karl jacobs smut #c!karl smut #dream smp x reader smut #dreamsmp smut #dsmp smut #dream smp smut #dsmp x reader smut #dreamsmp x reader smut #mcyt smut #mcyt x reader smut #tw pregnancy #cw pregnancy

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iamthemain-character · 3 years ago

Note

Hiii its me again lol I apologize in advance English is not my first language

I love your work <3

I have a lot of ideas but now I want to request something about karl again if thats okayy:)

I am really in the mood for anything rn but I want to request something angsty(?)thing if you are okay with that of course,(because I usually dream about things like this lol I really have like my own Wattpad story in my subconcious) like him treathing reader wrong because he is not in the mood for hugs or something,or him thinking it is the best for both to have a break in their relationship but at the end he realized he was wrong, at the fluff tho pls

Im sorry if this is long it is literally 1:24 am and I am in creative mood

Anyways thank you so much for your time <3

Have a great day/night

hi! welcome back! <3 ooooo angst prompt, we love to see it. i hope this is what you wanted, thanks for submitting! :)

Come Back…Be Here

karl jacobs x reader

Gender Neutral Pronouns

TW: none really, just a breakup

requested by @azumakina

this taylor swift title thing is getting out of hand

MCYT Masterlist

This was the third time this week, and who knows what time this month, that Karl had been late. This date had been rescheduled at least 5 times, and yet Y/n’s boyfriend failed to show up every single time. Y/n was a patient person, but this was ridiculous. Finally they put Karl’s now cold food in a to-go box and left the restaurant, deciding to drop it off at his house.

Y/n was hurt, and tired of always being pushed to the side. In the beginning of their’s and Karl’s relationship, it was perfect. They loved each other unconditionally and always made time for one another. But now, a year and a half later, it was like they were complete strangers. A couple texts here, maybe a phone call or a visit. And it wasn’t for lack of trying; lots of times Y/n tried to go be with Karl or invite him out somewhere, but he always had something to do. Part of Y/n feared his career was becoming too much, but they never said anything because they trusted Karl knew what he was doing.

Now, pulling up to his house, Y/n wanted to cry. They loved Karl with all their heart, but they missed the days where they felt important and loved. Still, they wanted to stay for better or for worse, so they dried their tears and took the food inside. Most of the house was dark, so Y/n made their way back to Karl’s gaming room.

Sure enough, there he was, sat in front of the screen. He was laughing and smiling at something, and for a moment Y/n just watched him. They hadn’t seen him laugh or smile at them in so long, they liked to see it and pretend that it was because of them. Carefully they made themselves noticed to Karl.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Are you streaming?”

“No, I’m just playing with the boys.”

Y/n took a deep breath in; so it wasn’t even work that kept him this time. “Can we talk?”

Karl grimaced and looked back at the screen. “Right now? I’m kinda busy.”

“Karl Jacobs, I need to talk to you.”

Y/n’s boyfriend snapped to look over at them, his eyes wide. They had never used his full name in that tone before, so he silently nodded and said goodbye to his friends.

“What’s up?”

For a moment Y/n just took in Karl; they could see in his eyes he was distracted, that he wasn’t really thinking of them. So they took a deep breath and cut to the chase. “I brought you food. From the restaurant.”

“The restaurant? What resta- oh. That was tonight wasn’t it.” Karl’s eyebrows furrowed in thought, then his eyes opened wide as he realized what had happened. “I’m sorry babe, it totally slipped my mind, I-“

“I’m not here for your apology. I’ve ‘slipped your mind’ so many times now; Karl, it’s like I’m not even important to you!”

“I-I’ve been busy with work! My career is important you know!”

Holding back tears, Y/n crossed their arms and shook their head. Their voice cracked a little when they softly spoke again.

“When did your career become more important than your relationship?”

Karl opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He closed it again and ran a hand up his face and through his hair. For a moment the pair just stood in the tense silence, until finally Y/n stood up straight looked Karl in the eyes.

“Goodbye Karl.”

As Y/n walked out of the room and left the house, Karl felt warm, salty tears start streaming out of his eyes. Everything Y/n said was absolutely true, somewhere during the past year he had let his growing job become more important than taking care of his relationship. But as he reflected, Karl realized he never stopped loving Y/n, he just forgot to treat them right.

Karl knew he had to correct this wrong; quickly dashing up, he rushed outside to his driveway and saw that Y/n’s car was just beginning to pull out. Desperate to stop them, he ran as fast as he could and grabbed the backseat door handle to open it. Y/n came to an abrupt stop and quickly stepped out to see what Karl was doing.

“Karl, what in the ever loving muffin are you-“

“Please, Y/n, I know I don’t deserve it, but please listen. I’ve treated you horribly, like just been a total jerk and not a great boyfriend. And you have every right to be mad at me, to hate me, and to never want to see me again. But, before you go, I just want to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve ignored you and pushed you aside; I love you, I’ve always loved you, I just pushed you aside and that was terrible of me. You deserve to be cherished, and loved, and respected, and I didn’t do that. And I am so so sorry.”

Neither person’s eyes were dry, and a small sob broke from Karl as he finished. Nodding slowly, he backed away, ashamed of what had happened. But just as he started to walk, a pair of arms wrapped tightly around him. From behind, Karl felt Y/n lean onto him as they held him tight.

“I love you Karl Jacobs. I forgive you.”

Karl turned around and properly returned Y/n’s hug. He kissed the top of their head over and over again, silently promising to never do anything to loose his lover again. Their relationship was so precious, and the love that they shared was so rare, they both vowed that night to keep it forever.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #karl jacobs #karl jacobs x reader #karl jacobs x you #karl #karl x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

Life Goes On

This if for @buckybarnesplumwhore

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; grieving, funeral, breeding, handcuffs, warnings are not exhaustive so read at your own discretion.

This is dark! Andy Barber x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You volunteer at the local youth center but when one of the kids meets an unfortunate end, you cross paths with his father. No stranger to grief, you try to help him cope but find it a bigger than task that you expected.

Note: When I started writing, I had no plan. When I kept writing, there was still no plan. And then it just all kinda happened.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

It was too sunny for a funeral. A funeral come too soon.

The service was held out in the sun, rows of wooden chairs and a sombre old priest. You never knew if the Barbers were religious but it was easy to find a holy man in Massachusetts, as easy as those early years of settlement found in textbooks.

There were no flowers, only two oblong caskets shrouded in black cloth, the name of each of the dead on silver placards, no pictures, no souvenir of who they were.

It was like Andy was already trying to forget them. He was at the front, the grieving widower and father. You were lost somewhere in the middle with his co-workers, there out of propriety more than empathy, and distant relatives who attended out of courtesy, some passing acquaintances who followed the story in the papers more than out of compassion. It was a spectacle and Andy had done his best from feeding the leering onlookers.

You knew Jacob more than his parents. He was younger than you, almost ten years apart. You knew him from the youth group you volunteered for, the same one you'd been in at his age. He was out of place there, he was from a better neighbourhood than the other kids, they called him the rich brat, and he resented himself more for it than he did them.

His attendance kept his mother happy. He didn't like the individual counseling, he didn't talk, so she put him in the group and he talked there. Sometimes. The kids never went on philosophical monologues but they understood each other and shared what they needed to.

Laurie was always late to pick him up. So he stayed to help stack the chairs and you ended up waiting with him, making sure he wasn't alone in the dark. He hated that at first too, until he realised you weren't on the stoop to council or judge. You were just two people, chatting to pass the time.

Sometimes Andy picked him up. He was friendlier than Laurie. Jacob's mother was always in a rush, even on her way home where there was no deadline. She said thanks, maybe, and drove off as she began to lecture Jacob about how he wore his hat. Andy offered you a ride, every time, as if he had some compulsion to be the good guy, the saviour. You always said no, the bus was a five minute ride to your building, fifteen minutes if you walked.

Now Jacob was dead, his mother too. Another tragedy inflicted upon those least likely. Even death didn't stop the whispers, even that venue, the priest's collar, the Biblical dirges, the grim family man in black did not silence them. It sickened you as the service ended and the people rose in a hushed murmur.

Andy left without talking to anyone. The procession of cars would drive through the streets with flags to mark the grieving on their way to the interment. It was as if Andy was doing what was expected more than what he felt he owed the deceased. He was ever the lawyer, formal and curt.

You followed the grey parade. Not out of obligation but out of genuine regret. Jacob seemed like a lost kid, even in death. The rumours, the accusations, the suspicion, followed him. The people didn't watch the dirt fall from the shovel to see him at peace, they watched it as some grand finale to the great show of the Barbers.

When the metal no longer cut and scattered the soil, the crowd thinned out. You stayed as the diggers packed up. You were sad for Jacob, for Laurie. Andy hadn't been there to see the burial. You couldn't blame him but you were surprised. He just disappeared after the service, apparently done with his part in the play.

You went closer and stared at the new stone that stretched above both plots. Laurie Barber… and her son, Jacob Barber. May they rest. It was as short, as minimal as anything else about the affair. You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. You didn't know if Jacob was a bad seed, it wasn't your job to make that call, but he had just been a kid and all that potential was now six feet down.

"Didn't think anyone would stick around," the dark figure stepped up beside you, his steps muted by the grass, "least of all, you."

"I'm sorry, I…" you looked at Andy and then the dirt, "I'll go."

"Wait," he said before you could move, "I thought-- I thought I wanted to be alone for this…" he shoved his hand in his pocket, "but I've been alone since it happened and I'm realising, I'm gonna be alone from here on out."

You didn't say a word. You didn't know what you could say. He'd heard a hundred apologies, a hundred condolences.

"I'm happy someone stayed, that someone cared," he cleared his throat, "thank you."

You nodded and played with the buttons on your cardigan.

"He was too. Happy, you know, that someone cared. I think back now and I realise that you probably saw him more than me. He was always excited to go to the centre but he got in that car and he just… deflated." He shook his head, "maybe this is better. One way or the other, he wanted to get away from me but he never could get away from Laurie. She wouldn't let him go."

He chuckled sardonically but it quickly fizzled in his throat.

"Sorry, I'm rambling…"

"You're processing," you said, "a lot of the kids down at the centre, they lost parents, one way or the other, orphans, fosters… I always told them that they didn't have to make sense because grief never really does."

"Now that makes a lot of sense," he said, "but you shouldn't have to listen to me."

"I shouldn't or you don't think you should say any of it?"

"Hmmm," he hummed, "yeah, maybe."

"I don't get paid to listen to those kids, I just get a time and a place to do so. This isn't different. It's just talking and a lot of that is just figuring things out. Listening is easy, you're doing the hard part."

"Jeez, you come up with this stuff on your own or is there some sort of how-to book?"

You lifted your chin and sucked in your lip. You could tell where Jacob got the bite from.

"Sorry, that was… mean," he said after the silence settled with the dirt, "can I ask you something?"

"Sure," you said.

"You got somewhere to be?"

"No…" you answered cautiously.

"Do you think you might wanna listen to me a little more? I'll buy you a coffee for the trouble."

"You wanna talk? To me?"

"Better than anyone I do know," he snorted, "they all just give me that dumb look. They pity me, judge me. You don't have to say yes but I started now, if I stop, I'll...stop."

"Coffee?" You glanced over at him, "I'd rather tea."

"I'm sure they got that too," he fiddled with the trim of his pocket, "anytime you wanna bail, let me know."

"If I can handle teen angst, I think I can handle you."

🖤

That afternoon wasted away in the corner of a café. It felt like any other day but for Andy, you knew, it was likely the worst day of his life. Likely a day he wouldn’t forget. You sat patiently until the last of your tea was cold. He didn’t finish his coffee, he hardly even touched it. When you checked the time, he looked down embarrassed.

“It’s late,” he said, “I… I’m sorry for keeping you so long.”

“I didn’t have anything to do. I doubt you did either,” you swept up the paper cup and your purse.

“No, really, I mean, you don’t know me. You knew Jacob and I just sat here and talked your ear off for hours. I--” he looked out the window, “I know that when I go home, the house will still be empty. That’s why I’m here.”

You looked past him as he turned back. You chewed your lip, “Andy, have you looked into counseling yet?”

“It feels… too early for that.”

“Too early?”

“I don’t want to let it go. Don’t want to let them go,” he sucked his hands in his pockets, “if I go, that’s what they’ll tell me to do.”

“No, they’d help you live with it, not forget it,” you said, “but I know, it’s scary. Have you done anything? Read anything?”

“Read?”

“Self-help isn’t for everyone and those dummy books aren’t great I admit, but sometimes a start is better than nothing. What about… a routine? Do you have one?”

“I work, I come home, I sleep, and try not to notice they’re gone,” he shrugged, “and repeat. Lot of overtime.”

“You’re still working?” you went to the door and he followed.

“Well, I talked to you. That’s what I’m going to do about it.”

You stepped out into the evening din and spun to look at him. You crossed your arms and stood across from him on the pavement.

“Well, unfortunately there’s an age limit down at the centre,” you said, “but I could give you a number for an adult group.”

“No, I don’t wanna talk to a group of sad parents and widowers. Just remind me how pathetic I really am,” he scoffed.

“Do you think that what you’re doing right now is better?”

“Do you have a degree in this?” he wondered, “what are you doing down at that youth centre talking to degenerates?”

“I have a certificate that says I’m good at listening, but no, I couldn’t afford a degree,” you dropped your arms, “but, will you come down? Sit in on a session. Just listen… for Jacob? It helped him, I think, after a while?”

“With the kids?”

“Yeah, with the kids,” you said, “maybe it will help you decide.”

“Decide what?”

“If you’re going to keep doing what you're doing; nothing, or if you’re going to try. Trust me, after a while, just sitting there, ignoring it, it gets old and it won’t get better.”

He looked down and stared at his leather shoe as he ground his toe into the pavement, “is that allowed? Am I allowed to do that?”

“I don’t see why not. I have parents sit in all the time.”

“But I’m not-- not anymore,” he gulped.

“You are,” you patted his arm gently, “you always will be.”

“What time?” he raised his head.

“Tuesdays and Thursdays at four-thirty. We do accept late arrivals. Kids come in and out. Usually hang out til seven before I let them go.”

“I think I can make that work,” he exhaled deeply, “thank you.”

“For what?”

“For putting up with me.”

You nodded and gave a bittersweet smile, “I miss Jacob too. I might be little more than a glorified babysitter but it means something to me. The kids… they feel like they’re mine sometimes. At least on those two nights a week.”

“Well…” he peered down the street, “you need a ride?”

You chuckled quietly, “you now, I think this time, I do.”

🖤

Andy was early. He took a chair near the wall as the kids flopped on the low sofas and into the colourful armchairs. A government grant had seen an upgrade in the lounge, although the kitchen needed some work as the cooking classes were still short on supplies. Dark circles darkened his eyes and the hairline wrinkles around them added to the hollow effect. He wasn’t sleeping.

You waited for the room to quiet. You greeted the kids and went through the usual ice breaker; one bad thing, one good thing, and one way they could improve the bad. Many of them were reluctant at first, they resisted what they thought were cheesy and inane exercises but they all came around. They were able to voice things that otherwise would be kept to themselves and they were afforded a respectful and often rapt audience.

When you finished, you kept from naming your own three. You looked at Andy.

“I’m sorry, everyone, I’m so forgetful. This is Andy,” you gestured to him, “he’s sitting in with us today. Andy, why don’t you tell us your bad thing, your good thing, and one thing you can do to improve the bad.”

He looked startled but he stood and cleared his throat. He glanced around at the kids and the shadow left his face. “Well, I lost a file, there were free bagels at work, and… I guess I could try to look again tomorrow.”

“Very good,” you smiled, “alright, my turn at last. My bad thing is I spilled tea on my shirt, my good thing is it’s a dark shirt, and my thing to improve is… wear a bib.” You laughed as you audience stay stone faced, “alright, alright, I’ll just be more careful and not run with hot liquids.”

You sat and started with Danica. She was always the most talkative, that encouraged the other kids. Today was no exception and you had to remind her to save some time for everyone else. Erik was next, then Andre, and Shamea. You almost didn’t notice Andy as he stood and sidled against the wall. Not until he was at the door, he looked back darkly and you saw his chest fall heavily. His nostrils flared and he was gone.

You tried not to show your disappointment, tried not to let the kids notice. They were all caught up in the circle and breaking it was never good. Shamea passed the stuffed bunny to Naima and you focused on her. Maybe it was too soon for Andy, you understood that, but you hoped too that he might have found a piece of Jacob there.

Before the kids left, you handed out the coloured markers and they each scribbled down a few words before a high-five. They passed through the open door in pairs and singles, and you bent to add your own note. You tucked the card into your bag and locked up. Jacob was usually the only one to hang around. Not anymore.

You headed out the front door with a wave to Martha at the front desk and took a gulp of the fresh evening air. There was someone sat on the flat stone at the bottom of the broad rail of the stairs. You recognised Andy as you neared, much too big to be a teen.

“I’m sorry,” he dabbed his nose with his sleeve, “I couldn’t… I couldn’t stay in that room.”

“But you’re still here,” you said.

“I didn’t wanna just leave you hanging but… they all remind me of him,” he stood, “I’m sorry.”

“No more apologies,” you opened your purse and searched, “I had the kids put this together. Actually, it was Milo’s idea. He didn’t know it was you but he wanted to send it in the mail--”

“What?” he took the card and opened it. He turned so he could read it in the yellow light of the street lamp, “oh my god.”

“Is it too much?”

“No, no,” he ran his thumb over the ink, “it’s…” he closed it and tucked it into his jacket, “the only other thing I’ve got is the bill for the caskets. It’s… amazing. Thank you.”

“Not at all. They always surprise me,” you said, “most of the time, in good ways.”

“You need a ride?” he checked his watch.

“I don’t live far,” you waved him off, “but I always appreciate the offer.”

He nodded and frowned, “and if… if I didn’t want to be alone? Would you grab a burger with me? Have you eaten?”

“Not since lunch, I, uh… I guess it couldn’t hurt,” you said.

“You gotta be up early?”

“Nah, not too early.”

“What do you do? I mean, outside of this?” he turned and directed you to his car.

“Data entry,” you sighed, “it’s not very exciting but I work remotely and the pay is decent and I still have time for the kids.”

“It’s a living,” he said as the door locks clicked and you grabbed the handle, “no judgment. Trust me, being a lawyer, it’s really not as glamourous as it seems.”

🖤

Andy’s routine changed. He came around every Thursday and listened. After a few weeks, the kids figured out who he was. They didn’t treat him any differently and even invited him to join in on the teambuilding games you arranged. He wasn’t bad help as you welcomed a few new members from the group home.

That night, you weren’t feeling great. Even the kids hadn’t helped much. You were exhausted and nauseous. You blamed it on the late night shawarma. You said goodbye to the kids and packed up. Andy stacked the chairs without you asking, even when you told him not to.

You leaned heavily on the table and checked your phone before slipping it into your bag. You wiped your forehead and shivered. Some gravol, ginger ale, and sleep would be your indulgence that night.

“You okay?” Andy asked.

“Stomach thing,” you rubbed your middle, “nothing major.”

“You don’t look great,” he said, “well, I don’t mean it like-- are you sure--”

“Oh, gee,” you slid past him and out the door.

You ran to the restroom across the hall and into a stall. You wretched and the acid seared your throat. The bile bubbled in the toilet water and you shuddered. You heaved a few more times and rinsed your mouth in the sink.

Andy was waiting for you in the hall, “let me drive you tonight,” he insisted, “even if it’s just a block away.”

“I can’t even say no,” you grumbled as he handed you your purse.

“What’s wrong? You eat something?”

“I think,” you groaned as he held the door open and the cool air outside chilled the sweat on your neck, “urgh, I hope it’s only that.”

You got to his car and fell heavily into the seat. You slumped against the console as he started the car. He paused as the engine idled and felt your forehead. He nudged you back against the seat and turned his hand to press the back of his fingers to your cheek.

“You got a fever,” he said, “I don’t think it’s food poisoning.”

“Oh, those kids carry bugs like rats,” you muttered, “just take me home, I’ll get over it.”

He pulled out of his spot and you closed your eyes. You leaned against the window, frigid against your forehead and hugged yourself. You dozed off before he even turned out of the lot, the belt keeping you from folding over entirely.

🖤

You woke up between fresh linen. The sunlight was soft in its early hues. It wasn't your bed. You rolled onto your side and your stomach ached from how empty it was. You pushed back the thick duvet, you were sweating. You didn't remember more than the car ride and a few fuzzy glimpses of the bottom of a bucket.

You were cold again and pulled the blanket back. The door was open and Andy filled it as if he'd heard your grumbles. He stood at the bottom of the bed in a pair of plaid pants and a blue tee.

"Why am I here?" You asked.

"You fell asleep. You're sick. I couldn't just leave you outside your building," he said, "how are you feeling?"

"Bad," you replied curtly, "I can go," you sat up, "stop by the pharmacy, go hide in my own bed."

"You should stay here," he insisted, "just until the fever breaks."

"Really… ugh," you moaned as your belly clenched, "Andy, I should--"

"Lay down?" He came around and caught your shoulder, "I used to call in sometimes when Jacob was home sick. When he was a lot younger and… I stir up a man cup of noodles."

"You don't have to--"

"It's completely selfish," he interrupted, "it's been a long time since I had someone to take care of or at least it feels like it."

You were light-headed as you tried to stand but he kept you from getting to your feet, "I guess I can stay a little longer."

"Don't act like I don't owe you," he tutted, "now relax. I'll get you some soup. You need something in your system. I got some anti-nausea pills in the cupboard, too."

"Thanks but you don't owe me anything. I'm gonna owe you big."

"Why don't we just call it even then," he backed up, "seeing as that's my bed and my couch, it's really not made for sleeping." He stretched his arms and his shoulders cracked, "especially at my age."

🖤

You stayed another night. You tried to convince Andy to let you take the couch instead but he was a lawyer and rarely lost an argument. It was easier to eat by the evening but you were still dizzy and you couldn't stop yawning. You'd never been so tired.

Despite your uneasiness at overstaying your welcome, you slept more heavily than before. Your guilt didn't keep you awake for long as you sank into a deep sleep and you woke slowly, a murmur escaping your lips as grogginess weighed you down. You were still so very tired but it was already morning.

You stretched and your wrist caught. You winced and tugged at your arm. You sat up in horror as you stared at the metal cuff attached to the hoop drilled into the headboard. You tugged until your arm hurt and your hand throbbed. What the fuck.

"Andy! Andy! What--"

"Shhhhh," Andy hushed you as he entered, "it's okay, you're okay."

"No, I'm not. What did you do?" You pulled again and the metal pinched your skin.

"You're going to hurt yourself," he said calmly.

"Unlock it. Let me go," you struggled as you kicked off the blankets, "Andy, what the fuck?"

"Hey, don't talk like that. It's...nasty."

"I don't understand," you began to pant, "why are you doing this?"

The panic crawled like tendrils up your neck and back. You twisted and pulled but the metal cuff didn't budge. You felt the bed shift and Andy grabbed your shoulder. He forced you down, pinning your other hand beside your head.

"I'm taking care of you," he said, "don't be so ungrateful."

"I can take care of myself. Let me go, please."

"No, you need me," he snarled, "like I need you."

"Andy, you're wrong--"

"Stop!" He covered your mouth, "stop! You don't know what you need. Now be still. Be quiet." He squeezed until your jaw hurt, "don't make this difficult."

He slowly lifted his hand and you didn’t move. You stared at his hand then looked at his face. There was a desperate anger in the depths of his oceanic eyes. He sat back and his jaw clenched as he watched you.

"I'm going to make breakfast. Be good. You need to eat." He backed off the bed and went to the door, "I mean it."

He left you and you listened until pans clinked and clanged in the kitchen below. You folded your thumb against your palm and tried to wiggle free of the cuff. It was too tight. There was only one other way out and you couldn't do it alone.

"HELP! HELP! SOMEONE PLEASE!" You screamed, "someone help me!"

The footsteps hammered up the stairs and Andy stormed in. He grabbed you and clamped his hand over your mouth again.

"Listen, no one can hear you, you got that? Windows are soundproof, but I really don't want to hear it so it's up to you if I gag you."

You blinked and your lip trembled against his hand. Your eyes rounded and you nodded stiffly. He tore his hand away and sighed as he clapped his hands on his legs in frustration.

"Good," he said quietly, "now, let's just hope," he stood and strode to the door, "that the bacon didn't burn."

🖤

You fell asleep again shortly after eating, even with the adrenaline and panic surging through your veins. You woke again in the afternoon. Your limbs were heavy but the fever was gone and your stomach felt better but you were still terribly tired.

Andy was there. He had a leather file in his lap as he looked over papers and scratched his beard. He sensed your movement and looked over at you.

"Hungry?" He asked, "you slept through lunch."

"No," you smelled your sweat on the duvet, "but… can I have a shower? I haven't...since I got here."

"A shower?" He closed the folder and stood. He set it down and pursed his lips as he thought. "Fifteen minutes," he said as he dug around in his pocket, "I'll be here."

He unlocked the cuff and you rubbed your wrist as you sat up. He stayed close as you rose and stayed between you and the bedroom door as he pointed you to the bathroom.

"I don't have much for you to wear yet but you can take another one of my shirts," he said.

You nodded and closed the door between you. You closed your eyes and pressed yourself to the wind. How was this the same man that you spoke to that day at the cemetery?

🖤

He slept beside you that night. You were on your side, your arm bound again by the cuff with the pillow between it and your head. You were uncomfortable, more so with him against your back. He wore only a pair of boxers. You shied away when he undressed and never looked at him again.

You dozed despite your nerves. You couldn't shake the drowsiness. You just felt more and more tired. When you opened your eyes, his arm was around you. He ran his fingers over your stomach, fingers crawling beneath the baggy tee shirt. You shivered and he nuzzled the back of your neck.

"I was thinking… well, I've been thinking for a while now, how happy we could be," he said, "I'm still young enough to try again, do it right and you… you're young, ready." His hand brushed up to your chest and he cupped your tit, "you're kind, you're caring, you're...beautiful. You’re my second chance."

“Andy,” your voice was brittle as your pulse beat furiously, “what you’re doing, it’s not right. You need to let me go.”

He went rigid and his hand stopped. He unsnaked his arm from around you and the springs coiled as he fell heavily onto his back. In the silence, you could only hear his steady breaths and a low growl.

“No, I’m helping you,” he said, “like you’ve helped me.”

“Andy, please,” you eased onto your back and looked over at him, “this isn’t how you fix this.”

“How do I?” he snarled, “huh? How? You don’t know!” he sat up and glared down at you, “you can’t know.”

“You think hurting me is helping me? That’s what you’re doing.”

“No, no, no,” he bent his legs as he grasped his head and gripped it as if it would crack, “No! I haven’t hurt you. I feed you, I keep you clean, I… I take care of you!”

“Andy,” you reached over shakily and touched his bare shoulder, “this isn’t what I want and I know you don’t want it either. You want someone who really loves you--”

“You love me!” he turned so quickly you yelped. He gripped your jaw tightly as he held himself against you, “you love me,” he pressed his lips to yours and you murmured in surprise, “you love me,” it was a maddened chant as he pulled back, “...love me.”

“And--”

His hand flew up to smother you and he lifted himself over you. His knees pressed to your legs until they parted and his other hand explored your curves through the rumpled cotton. You squeaked and tensed against his touch, your wrist chafing from the cuff.

“Shhh,” he hushed as he pushed the shirt up.

He kept his hand on your mouth as he slid down your body and left a trail of kisses along your torso as he unveiled it. He bunched the tee above your chest and bent to dote on your tits. You shuddered and pushed on his head as you mumbled into his palm.

His fingers tickled along your side and hooked into the side of the drawstring shorts he gave you. He tugged until the string snapped and edged them down as he continued to tend to your chest. You kicked around him and felt his bulge as he leaned into you.

He ripped his hand away and sat up. He grabbed the waist of the shorts and wrenched them down your legs, quickly taking his between them again. You wriggled and batted out at his chest as his thumbs pressed against your hip bones and his hands crept down to knead your thighs.

“I can start again,” he brushed his fingers down your vee and you trembled as they danced along your cunt.

“No, Andy, please, you can still stop--”

“Shhhh, honey,” he pushed between your folds and you gasped, “it’s okay. I’ll still take care of you,” he glided over your cunt and made you twitch, “and the baby.”

He poked along your entrance and you whined helplessly as you reached to the cuff and pulled with both arms. Every muscles in your strained as you tried to break free of the headboard. He pushed a finger inside of you and you cried out.

“Andy, stop, please, no--”

He added another finger and slipped them in and out of you as he purred. You looked at his face and it sent a chill through you. His eyes were dark and clung to the movement of his hand, his brow set and his jaw squared with his intent. He wasn’t the grieving widower, he wasn’t the man lost and lonely, he was a monster.

“That’s it,” he turned his hand and flicked your clit with his thumb, “you want me. I feel it.”

You looked away as your wetness spread to his knuckles and along your folds. He kept his thumb moved as he curled his fingers inside of you and the pressure built as the tip of his touch. You gritted your teeth and shook your head helplessly.

“No,” you whispered, “no, no, no…”

He took his hand away suddenly and you felt empty. He lifted himself on his knees and rolled down his boxers. You didn’t look at him, you couldn’t, you only saw the silhouette of his nudity.

He pushed your thighs apart and spread himself over you, his elbow just beside you as he felt around between your bodies. His hot breath grazed your cheek and he kissed it firmly as he angled his tip between your folds. Your thighs clenched around him in a futile act of resistance as he found your entrance.

He pushed inside slowly and brought his other arm up beside you. He forced your head straight and you squeezed your eyes shut. He cradled your head between his hands and his lips brushed yours as he spoke, “open your eyes. Look at me.”

“Andy,” you murmured as he slowly got deeper, “please--”

“Look at me,” he demanded, “look at me!”

Your eyes snapped open and met his stormy blue ones. He bucked his hips and impaled you completely. You exclaimed and grasped his thick bicep in shock, your other hand balled above the cuff. Your legs bent around his thick thighs as you tried to stop him.

“God, you feel so good,” he purred as he began to rock, “don’t I feel good too?”

Your lashes fluttered away the rising tears and you sucked your lip in to keep from making a sound. You could look away as he held your head straight, his hand clamping around your jaw as he other arm bent beneath yours.

The room echoed with the noise of his flesh slapping yours as he sped up, his grunts and groans interlaced with the sickening symphony. You quivered as his pelvis rubbed against yours and stoked the heat in your core. You could not hold back the illicit response of your body as he ravaged it.

Your breath grew heavier and he gulped it down as he kissed you again, forcing his tongue between your lips as he devoured you. The whole bed moved in time with your body and the headboard knocked against the wall as his thrusts came closer and closer together and he buried himself as deep as he could with each tilt of his hips.

He drew his mouth away and pressed his cheek to yours as his muscles tensed and he puffed into the pillow, “this is it, honey. It all starts here.”

“Ah, please…” your voice fizzled and smothered your moan against his shoulder as your body spasmed. Your legs bent around him firmly as you orgasmed and your body arched beneath his desperately.

“That’s it,” he cooed, “that’s it. You take me so well. See… it was meant to… be.”

His breaths grew more rampant with his rhythm. His hand slipped down to cradle your cheek and his thumb stroked your flesh tenderly as he dipped into you over and over. His deep groans grew louder around you. He jerked into you sharply and his motion stuttered. He gripped your hip and held you down as he sheathed himself in your walls.

He quaked as his hips slowed and he flooded you. He exhaled and as his lungs emptied, the strength left him entirely and he lowered himself over you weakly. His body pressed yours into the mattress, your sweat and his turned sticky as the air settled over you.

He stayed like that for what felt like forever. He moved slowly to lift himself up and he sat back, watching his dick slide out of you. Your thighs shook as your legs splayed around him. You felt his cum leak from you and he dragged his fingers along your cunt and scooped it back into you, coating his fingers in as he pushed them past your entrance once more. He smiled at the wet sounds of your cunt.

“That felt like the one,” he said, “but we can try again...”

He pulled his fingers out of you and admired the slickness that glistened over them. He reached down and gripped his dick, half-soft and spent. He winced as he began to stroke himself and let out stifled moans between his teeth.

“Maybe this time,” he purred as he angled himself inside of you again and lifted your legs against his torso. He bit his lips as he trembled, his cock oversensitive and overworked, “as many times as it takes, honey.”

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #one shot #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #defending jacob

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emilysshortstories · 3 years ago

Text

Paul Lahote Part One

trigger warnings: ??? Nothing yet but not promises that will keep in later parts

words: 1543

It’s in those moments of deep desperation that you find hope. Or it seems to find you. When I left home to live with my uncle, miles away from my home, desperation was the only thing on my mind. Desperately running away, I didn’t want to face that part of my life that I already felt as though I was behind. I wanted to start fresh. I still do, so why does the reason I came here matter? My uncle, Charlie, agreed that he wouldn’t tell a soul about the events that lead me to his home, not even his own daughter. Who never really dropped the subject of course, but knew it wasn’t any of her business. I wasn’t naive enough to actually believe that I wouldn’t have to face problems here, but I think that’s what drew me here. Different problems, and that’s what I got.

When I first moved here my cousin, Bella, had a boyfriend who she spent most of her time with. She still introduced me to everyone and showed me around, but when he moved things shifted. Bella completely shut down, she was always quiet and reserved, but this was different. She was numb. It took her a really long time to talk to anyone, and when she did, it was only me, Charlie, and her friend Jacob. They were always working on these two motorcycles together, sometimes I would join them. Jacob was nice, clearly had a massive crush on Bella even though she always denied it.

One day when I tagged along I met Quil and Embry, they also seemed nice but I didn’t talk to them much. I didn’t talk to anyone that lived on the reservation actually, not until I had to stop Bella from doing something stupid. Feels like I’ve been doing that a lot lately.

She was pissed. I’ve never seen her this angry before. I was a little scared to get in the car with her, but the fear of what she was going to do with this anger overpowered me. I stayed in the car when she stormed into Jacob’s house, but practically leaped out as I saw her approaching “Sam’s cult”. I was too far behind her and couldn’t reach her until she had already slapped one of the boys. “ALRIGHT” I yelled at Bella, getting in between them and seeing the boy start to shake in anger. “What you’re NOT gonna do is pick a fight with Mr. Mc steroids over here.” I continued while looking the boy up and down. We made eye contact. I didn’t want to but I froze and felt something turn in my gut while he immediately stopped shaking. I quickly shook it off and turned back to my crazy cousin. “Lets leave. Get in the fucking car John Cena”, pointing to her truck. I heard a bit of laughter as we walked away, but didn’t turn around. I didn’t even dare look in the rear view mirror as I drove off.

After Bella calmed down she admitted that slapping a 7 foot Greek sculpture wasn’t the smartest move. “They did something to him, I know it. Jacob’s too scared to tell me what’s going on but I’m gonna figure it out.” Bella said with gritted teeth. “Listen, you know Jacob better than I do so it’s your call, but maybe consider the idea that it’s none of your business? You and him have been friends since preschool. I feel like if it was necessary for you to know, he would have told you”. By the time I finished my speech Bella had already shut down. Just like she was before. Broke my heart seeing her like this. Maybe I should talk to Jacob or the “cult”, just be civil about it.

So that’s what I did. The next day I drove to Jacob’s house, but Billy said he wasn’t home and to try Sam’s place. Well, he said Jacob wasn’t home and I begged him to tell me where he might be. For some reason he caved and told me where to find him and not Bella. I tried not to think about it too much or let my anxiety get the best of me while driving.

When I knocked on the door, I didn’t expect a small, sweet woman with a huge scar across her face to answer the door. “Hi, can I help you?”

“Yes, I was looking for Jacob?”

“Are you Bella?”

“No, I’m Y/N, Bella’s cousin.”

“Oh. OH!” She seemed really surprised to find out this information. “Jacob it out with Paul right now. Working. They will be back soon though if you would like to come in, the rest of the crowd is here. I’m Emily, Sam’s fiance.”

“Oh I can come back another time, I don’t want to intrude.”

“Don’t be silly, we are all friendly and we are dying to get to know you.”

What does that mean? I walked in and saw everyone I saw yesterday but Jacob and the boy Bella slapped. Paul. “Hey Embry, how have you been?” I asked, seeming he was the only person I recognized. “Good, You?”

“I’m ok, just worried about Bella. Wanted to give Jacob a bit of grief for leaving her high and dry. She’s taking it a bit hard, but I also wanted to apologize for how she acted yesterday. Slapping who I assume is Paul wasn’t cool at all. I’m sure she feels really awful about it.”

“It’s not Jacob’s fault for leaving Bella. You don’t have to apologize for Bella, I think we have all wanted to slap Paul at some point in time.” Sam said.

“Got it, but is there anything I can do to get Jacob to talk to Bella again?”

“Jump in line, we all want him to talk about it so we don’t have to hear him monologuing all the time about it.” Embry said, before the third and last boy elbowed him really hard.

“So none of this is your doing?” I asked all the boys.

“Not exactly, no.” Said Sam.

“Ok. That’s some clarity at least.” I said with a smile.

“Why don’t you sit down, muffin, before the beasts attack them?” Emily offered a bowl full of muffins the size of Ohio to me.

“Thank you, that’s really sweet of you.” I said while taking a muffin and sitting next to Embry. Emily was right that the boys would attack the food, holy shit. “So why don’t you tell us about yourself?” Emily said, seeming excited and sitting across from me. “What do you want to know? I’m pretty much an open book.”

“What brings you to Forks?” The ONE question I hate.

“Running away from my problems, if i’m being honest. I’ve always loved the rain, needed a change, and my uncle, Charlie, offered me a room. So I took it.”

“I like that, where are you from?”

“Austin.”

“Texas?” said the only boy who I didn’t know.

“No, actually it’s a small secret base on Mars. I’m an alien.” This made everyone laugh, especially the strange boy. “Sorry, I never caught your name?”

“Jared, you always that sarcastic?”

“Yes, humor is my only likable personality trait.”

“I hear that” said Jared while raising his muffin. “What do you like to do for fun?”

“I write, read, and love watching movies and TV shows. I'm a big music lover but I think that’s just a side effect of being born and raised in Austin. Since moving here I’ve really taken up hiking though, it’s so beautiful here. Not just flat desert like in Texas.”

“The only TV show I watch is New Girl, nobody here seems to watch it.” Said Jared and before I even thought it through my favorite Schmit quote fell out of my mouth.

“You would have been my nightmare. We were on very strict instructions from Rabbi Schmolli not to say anything until the very last christian kid found out about Santa Claus. Ruining Christmas? Very bad for our brand.”

Everyone seemed to like me after that and conversation flowed freely. I really liked spending time with everyone and lost track of time until I saw that the sun was going down. “Oh shit, I gotta get going, I’m not used to driving on ice yet and don’t want to drive on these roads when it's dark. Thank you so much for being so nice to me Emily, it was really nice talking to everyone.”

“Oh but Paul isn’t back yet” Emily said quickly. “And Jacob.”

“I can give Jacob shit anytime and I’m sure Paul isn’t my biggest fan after what Bella did so I think it’s a good idea to head out now. Thanks again though.” I said and started making my way to the door.

“Of course! No problem, please come by again. I liked talking to you too and I’d love you to properly meet Paul.”

We walked out just as Jacob and Paul emerged from the trees, but as soon as Paul made eye contact with me, that same flip happened in my gut again before he took off running back into the woods. Guess that answers my question on if he’s mad at me.

#twilight #new moon #paul lahote #quil ateara #sam uley #emily uley #embry call #jared #jacob black #paul lahote smut #paul lahote imagine

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let-me-luve-you · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t Be Clingy

Tom Holland x Sister

Summary: Being Tom’s little sister means getting to go visit the Spider-Man set. You want to spend as much time with Tom as possible, but everyone else don’t think you should.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, cussing, Rude af brother and spiderman cast, Tom being the best big brother ever

A/N: I don’t think Harry or Zendaya or Jacob or any of the Spider-Man cast would actually act like this. It’s just for the story. Also, I just googled Smok’d. Idk the age limits in England. If I’m wrong, just pretend for the story.

MASTERLIST

With Tom filming Far From Home mostly in London, it means you get to go to set often. Kevin Feige had met you on multiple occasions and he knew you wouldn’t tell any Marvel secrets. He allowed you to come to the set whenever. Unlike the rest of your family, they could only come on certain days.

You loved being able to watch the movie be made. The whole process blew your mind. You are only ten years old and you already knew that you wanted to make movies when you were older. Tom loved having you on set. You were this ball of energy and when he needed a little pick me up, he would talk to you about what you had learned and what you thought worked and didn’t work. He would always listen and if you said an idea, he would usually mention it to Jon to see what he saw. A few of your ideas were actually going to be in the movie.

This was the last week that the cast and crew were going to be in London before they ventured off to other countries. They flew out on Tuesday to go to Berlin. Tom was kind of disappointed he had to leave his home and family, especially you, but he knew he would be back once the movie was done filming.

It was Friday afternoon and the cast was almost done for the day. You were sitting in Tom’s chair watching the final scene being filmed. Between takes you could hear Tom and Jacob talking about going out to dinner tonight. You knew you had to ask Tom if you could join. You watched Harry walk over to Tom and Jacob while they fixed the lighting.

“Where are we going tonight? First rounds on me.” Harry said.

“Thinking maybe we could go to Smok’d and then maybe find another pub.” Tom said.

“Sounds good to me. You know where the best places are.” Jacob said. “We can get everyone else to join us too.

“Okay. Ready on set.” Jon said. Harry looked over to him and nodded before walking off set. Tom and Jacob getting back into character. The scene filmed on for another thirty minutes. When it was over, Tom walked over to you and held a hand out to help you down from his chair.

“You have fun today bug?” Tom asked you as he guided you to his trailer.

“I did.” You beamed at him. “I wish I could go with you to Berlin.”

“Mum and Dad are flying out when we go to Venice. They are using it as a minivacation, but I’ll tell them to bring you and you can stay with me and come to set with us.” Tom said. He moved to the bedroom part of the trailer to change out of his Peter Parker clothes. When he was in his own clothes, he walked out and asked, “ready to go home?”

You nodded and followed him out. When you walked out of his trailer you saw Jacob, Harry, Zendaya, Jake, and Angourie standing in a circle talking. “Can I go with you to dinner tonight?” You asked Tom as you walked up to the group. The whole group heard you and you saw the awkward glances of everyone.

“No Y/N. You’re going home.” Harry said flatly. “We don’t need to babysit a kid on our last Friday night in town.” Tom gave him a what the heck look before he turned to you.

“What Harry means to say is, we are going to do adult stuff tonight. It would be safer if you stayed home.” Tom said with a gentle voice.

“But I want to hangout with everyone. I’ll be good I promise.” You begged. Everyone stood awkwardly and watched the oldest Holland and youngest talk it through.

“I know you would, but you need to be 18 to get into here.” Tom said. “You’re eight years short of that.” Tom grabbed you by the shoulder and led you away from the group. When they thought you were out of ear shot Harry spoke up.

“She’s so clingy. Hopefully Tom can distract her so she’ll leave us alone tonight.” Harry said with a laugh. The whole group laughed with him. “I can’t stand when she’s always around. That’s why I always travel with Tom.”

“Come on man. That’s your sister.” Zendaya said. “But you’re right. Tom’s been too nice to her and letting her come around too much.”

“Yeah. Doesn’t she have Barbies or something to play with? Why is she always here. I’d hate to be Tom and have a shadow following me when I’m trying to do my job.” Jacob said.

Everyone kept talking about you and it broke your heart. You fought the tears that were wanting to escape. Tom also heard these things. He felt you tense up next to him. He looked down at you not knowing what to say. You refused to look up. You found your shoes way more interesting.

“Is mum here yet?” You asked quietly. Worried if you spoke louder that you would start crying.

Tom looked around the lot and saw Nikki talking with a guard. “Yeah. She’s over there. But list-” You ignored Tom and walked away from him. He was shocked you didn’t even say goodbye. “Y/N come back here.” He said chasing you down and grabbing you by the arm to stop you. “Look, what they said back there, it wasn’t okay. I’m going to let them know that.”

“I’ll talk to you later.” You said yanking your arm from Tom’s grasp. He watched you walk to your mum and hop in the back of the car. Nikki looked over at Tom with a confused look. When she saw the pain in her eldest son’s eyes, she knew today wasn’t a good day for you.

Tom walked back over to the group. He was pissed at what Harry had said. Pissed at what his friends had said. As he got closer he realized he needed to cool off some before he said something he didn’t mean. He kept walking towards his trailer and Harry called out to him.

“Yo div. Are you coming with us or driving yourself?” Tom ignored him and slammed the door of his trailer. He started to pace the length of it when Harry barged in. “Dude. What’s up with you? Y/N say she hates you or something?”

“No.” Tom said shortly.

“Okay? What’s your problem? You were fine just before that whole situation.” Harry said.

“You really had to say those things about Y/N?” Tom asked, finally looking at his younger brother.

“I didn’t mean anything by them. I was just joking around.” Harry said defensively.

“She’s hurt, man. You started something that got everyone else involved. Y/N will never want to come to another set again. She thinks the whole cast hates her and thinks she's annoying.” Tom said, starting to raise his voice.

“She doesn’t need to come to set so much anyway.” Harry said, acting like he didn’t hear anything else.

“Dude..” Tom said with disgust. “She’s our sister. She loves us. I love her. I want her around. This is the only set she can come to because this movie is kid friendly. I’m going into movies after this that she won’t be able to visit, which means months without seeing her in person unless I fly from the US back home on a weekend.”

“I know, but all this hollywood stuff is too much for her.” Harry said.

“Have you even talked to her when she’s been here?” Tom asked. Harry shook his head no. Saying he was too busy working. “She’s observant as fuck. She’s seeing things that Jon isn’t. She’s told me things between takes and I’ve mentioned them to Jon and he has used the ideas. I don’t know when you started to think she was a thorn in your side, but you need to apologize to her.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Harry stormed to the door. “Catch your own ride to Smok’d. We will see you there.” Harry paused halfway out the door, “And check the attitude.”

Tom sighed as he fell back onto the couch. He was so frustrated at Harry for not seeing what he did to you. Tom knew he had to make it right, so he got up and went to his car. He drove straight to your favorite restaurant and got your favorite meals and desserts.

Driving home, you stayed silent. You didn’t want to cry from the rude words you heard. You definitely didn’t want your mum to see you cry and get mad at Tom. So the whole 45 minute drive, you stared out the window.

“Y/N, can you tell me what happened?” Nikki asked gently. She looked in the rearview mirror and saw you shake your head no. She sighed and decided to leave it for now. When she pulled into the drive, you immediately went up to your room and slammed the door. You weren’t supposed to lock it, but you did anyway. You fell onto your bed and finally let the tears fall down your face.

“I thought we had a couple of more years before she started acting like this.” Dom said, trying to make a joke.

“She didn’t have a good day. She wouldn’t tell me what happened. Tom looked upset too, so I’m not sure. I’m going to give him a ring.” She said, setting her purse onto the kitchen counter and took her phone out. Tom answered after a couple of rings.

“Hey mum.” He said with a sigh.

“Tom, dear, what happened today?” She asked.

“She wanted to go to Smok’d with us.” Tom answered honestly.

“She can’t get in there.”

“I know. I was trying to explain it to her, but almost the whole cast was standing there so I pulled her away. As we were walking away, things were said about her being clingy.” Nikki gasped as she heard people were talking ill of her daughter. “I tried to tell her it wasn’t true, but she walked off before I could get it through her head. I’m getting her food right now and headed over.”

“Tom, that’s sweet of you, but maybe give her the night to calm down. She’s really upset. How about just drop the food off with us and we will give it to her. You can go to Smok’d with everyone else.”

“Maybe. I’m not really in the mood to go out now. Especially after my fight with Harry.” Tom said. He cringed wanting to keep Harry out of this with his mum.

“What about Harry? Why did you two fight?”

“Nothing. Just a rough day is all. I’ll see you in a few, mum.” Tom said, hanging up before she even got another word in. He knew he would pay for it, but he was fine to take any punishment. After fifteen minutes, he pulled into his parents’ driveway. He stared at the house trying to gather the courage to face his protective mum and his hurt little sister. He finally got out and reached into the backseat for the bag full of goodies. He walked into the house and walked straight for the kitchen.

“What did you and Harry fight about?” Nikki asked when he walked in. He sighed.

“He said some hurtful things and thinks she’s overreacting. Thinks she has no business on the set anyways. I got mad at him because his words started everyone else's.” Tom said.

“What?” Nikki asked, shocked.

“I know. Where is she? I want to go talk to her.” Tom said looking in the living room.

“She’s in her room. Hasn’t come out since she got home.” Nikki said pointing to the stairs. “But I really think you should let her calm down a bit. Go out with the cas-”

“I don’t want to see any of them right now. I have to make sure Y/N is okay.” Tom said with pleading eyes. Nikki whispered okay and nodded her head for him to head up. She was proud of Tom for caring for his sister. She was happy she raised him to care for others.

Tom walked slowly up the stairs. When he got to your door he could hear your quiet cries. His heart hurt hearing it knowing he shouldn’t have ever let it get to this point. He should have called Harry and everyone else out on their shit the second he heard it. Tom tried the door and noticed it was locked. Tom knew about the strict no locking the door rule because he was the reason for it. He knocked and waited for an answer.

Tom heard the cries stop. Like his sister was muffling it with her hands. He knew she was hoping whoever was at the door, they would leave. “Y/N/N baby, please let me in.” Tom said. He didn’t hear any movement. “Please. I have a surprise for you.” Again nothing. “That’s it. Y/F/N Y/M/N, you know you aren’t supposed to lock this door, so let me in before I get dad.” That did it. Tom heard you get off your bed before he heard the lock unclick.

He tried the door again after a second and when he walked in he saw you in bed with the covers over your head. He walked over and gently sat next to you. He put his hand on your shoulder and turned you to face him. He pulled the covers down and saw the broken look on your face.

“Go away.” You whispered and tried to turn away from him again. He wouldn’t allow it.

“I’m not going anywhere. I want to have a movie night. I have all your favorites for dinner. Even got desserts.” He said trying to bribe you.

“Keep it. Throw it away. I don’t want it.” You said not looking at him.

“Come on. I can’t apologize for what they said, only they can. But I can say what they said isn’t true. I love that you are on set. You are the pick me up I need between takes. You are seeing these things for the first time and you bring new light to it. I told Jon all of your ideas. He’s using a lot of them. Did you notice that?” Tom asked, pushing some of your hair out of your face.

You shook your head no. “I love having you there. I really do. You make it so much better. When you aren’t there, it’s just a job. When you are, I can share that experience with you and we can discuss things. I love having you on set. If Harry wasn’t helping the crew, I would exchange him for you.”

“Hey now.” You turned towards the door to see Harry.

“Why are you here?” Tom asked him.

“You never showed. Came to check on you.” Harry said before turning to you. “Also came to apologize. What I said wasn’t true. It was rude.”

“No. You don’t like me.” You said with a pout. “That’s why you are always gone.”

“No it’s not. I just said that as a joke. It was a bad joke and it was horrible to say. I shouldn’t have said it. I love having you around. I get to watch you grow into this beautiful young girl. I just wanted a night with our crew where we could do whatever and not have to worry about you.” Harry said kneeling beside your bed.

“I’m sorry I always tag along. I won’t do it again.” You said look from Harry to Tom.

“No, no, no, no.” Tom was quick to say. “We want you around. We love taking you out to dinner with the cast, but sometimes, we need to be able to do some things without you. It isn’t because we don’t want you around, it’s because we just want to let loose of responsibilities for a little bit.”

“It’s like when you go into your treehouse to read. You just want to be away from things.” Harry added.

“Oh. I think I understand it now.” You said.

“I’ll always love you. You’re my best friend.” Tom said leaning over to kiss your forehead.

“Can you do me a favor?” You asked looking from both brothers. They both nodded. “Go out to Smok’d. Have fun with your friends. I’ll stay here and eat all the food Tom bought me.”

“No, I can’t do th-” Tom said before you interrupted.

“You can hangout with me this weekend before you go. Go join the cast for a fun night. I promise I’m no longer upset.” You said. “Please, for me?” You begged. Both Tom and Harry sighed before looking at each other.

“On one condition.” Tom said. You looked at him confused. “Come stay with me until I leave. Sam can cook us food and we can watch movies, go to the arcade, or do whatever you want. We can even build a fort in the living room like we did a few months ago.”

You smiled widely at Tom’s one request. “Okay. Yeah. Maybe mum can run me to the store so I can get us snacks.” Tom laughed as you started planning. “Now please go have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You said hugging Harry before hugging Tom.

“Okay, we’ll go now. Go eat that food I bought. I don’t want it to go to waste.” Tom said as he stood up to follow Harry out the door. “Love you Y/N.”

“Love you too Tom.” You said with a smile.

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland one shot #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #brother!tom holland #brother!tom holland x sister!reader #tom holland sister #tom holland x sister!reader #tom holland x sister #tom holland x holland!reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader #holland!sister #holland!reader #tom holland rpf #y/n holland #tom holland angst #tom holland au

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gingerthesimp · 4 years ago

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Heartless monster

Nate Jacobs x Reader

Warnings: kinda toxic relationship, slight cursing, mention of rape, drug use, violence and some smut at the end

Summary: Nate and y/n have been dating for a few months. She´s the complete opposite of every other girl her boyfriend has dated before. And when she wants to make it public he doesn’t approve, so she decides to make him jealous. Seems like her plan worked...

Nate <3: im a mckays right now. i will pick u up a bit later.

“Fucking idiot!”, I muttered under my breath after taking a hit from my mango flavored puff bar. A million thoughts coursed through my head, “Is he really at McKay’s? What does later mean? IS HE TALKING TO OTHER GIRLS?” This is the real me. Insecure, nervous and possessive. I’m not the cocky bitch everyone sees in me.

I tried to call Nate a few times but of course he had other things to do. After lying on my bed and waiting for him to call for another 20 minutes I decided to get up and go to Fez�� shop since he is one of my best friends. I was sure at least he would be happy to see me.

“Mom? I’m meeting a friend of mine. See you later.”, I shouted after putting on my shoes. My mother was currently in a little midlife crisis and didn’t want to communicate with anyone and I respect that.

The walk to Fezco’s shop didn’t take long and I honestly really enjoy walking in the dark, even if I was risking getting raped or even worse.

“y/n! What are you doing here?”, Fez exclaimed after I opened the door to the little gas station and before coming up to hug me. “Oh you know Fezzie, I was bored again.”

Fezzie. He absolutely despises that name but still lets me call him like that.

”Well, feel free to stay here if you want then.“, he invited me. We then shared a little blunt and talked about random shit like always. After what seemed like an hour or so we saw a white truck pulling up in the driveway.

“Wait....that’s Nate‘s car!“, I remembered. He picks me up sometimes with it so of course I would remember. But I didn’t say anything.

Instead one of the maybe dumbest but also greatest ideas came into my mind. I started kissing Fez on the neck. "Please, just make out with me. I know it`s weird but I need your help right now.“, I pleaded. The ginger haired boy looked like he wanted to say something but then decided to just play along. Fezco put his arms around my waist and started shoving his tongue inside my mouth.

Suddenly I heard the door open. “Y/N WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING!” , Nate Jacobs shouted while looking likes he’s about to explode. His jaw clenched and his fists balled. Me and Fezco stopped kissing and I turned to Nate, smiling innocently, “Why are you so furious? It’s not like I have a boyfriend or anything, right?” “Oh y/n, you are going to regret this very soon!”, he stated angry. And now Fez decided to speak up, “Calm down man, it’s not like she owes you anything.” “Don’t tell me what to do! Nobody asked for your opinion anyways.”, Nate exclaimed before punching my friend right in the face.

I decided to step in before it could get worse, “NATE STOP! IT WAS MY FAULT! HE DIDNT DO ANYTHING!” Nate chuckled a bit before answering: “Well sweetheart, looks like you should`ve thought about that before practically fucking him in front of me.” Now I got really mad. FUCK HIM? We weren`t even close to doing that. Just as he wanted to hit Fezco another time I grabbed his arm. “Please stop hurting him. Do it for me, if you really love me.” Seems like my words made him realize he’s doing a mistake so he left Fez alone. Instead Nate grabbed my wrist harshly and I could only shout a quick, “I’m so sorry, I will explain later” to Fezco before getting dragged out of the shop.

“Why did you make such a scene?”, I asked irritated. Nate just huffed clearly annoyed and didn’t speak to me until we reached his truck. “Get in.“, he ordered while opening the door for me.

After a while he finally spoke up, “Why?“. “I don’t want to hide anymore, Nate. Why can’t you just tell the truth? Tell everyone that we´re in love?” I asked on the verge of tears and looking at my boyfriend for the first time today. “I do love you, y/n. I really love you. But I just can`t. We’re very different, you’re not like the other girls I’ve dated before.” “You can`t? Or are you just a fucking pussy? Scared of what daddy´s gonna think of you when it turns out you´re dating an outcast? Fuck you, Nate. I don`t need you anymore. You´re a stupid little spoiled boy who knows nothing about life.”, I screamed and when I tried to slap him he pinned my arms above my head with one hand and started choking me with his other one. “If I was you I would be careful with my words. I invented you. Nobody knew your name before me, so don´t be a ungrateful whore.”, my boyfriend whispered in my ear and just as I couldn´t breathe anymore he pulled his hands away.

I pushed the passenger door open and exited the vehicle. “You´re a heartless monster, Jacobs!”, I cried with tears streaming down my face.

Then I ran home.

-time skip 30 minutes-

I was scrolling through Twitter when I suddenly got a facetime call from Kat. I´m pretty close with her but she doesn´t know I´m dating Nate.

When I accepted it I saw that she was filming my boyfriend, they were at McKay´s party and he was standing in the middle of the livingroom, talking about me. “I wanted to tell you all that me and y/n are dating.”, he shouted and clearly everyone in the room was as shocked as me when I heard what he said. “And we´re truly in love. y/n is an amazing girl and none of us actually deserve her. So if you can´t accept the fact that we are happy together you better shut up!, and with that Nate exited the room.

Kat flipped the camera and looked more then surprised, “What the actual frick y/n? When did you plan on telling me that?”

I explained everything to her as fast as I could and then got up and ran to McKay´s house.

I felt the need to apologize to Nate for everything I did tonight. I was a real cunt.

-time skip 3 minutes-

When I got there I just saw him getting into his truck, “Nate wait!” He turned around and looked at me surprised, but I could see the little smirk that formed in the corner of his mouth.

When I got to him I kissed my lover hard on the lips and he kissed me back. It was a long, passionate kiss. “I´ve been waiting to do that the whole day.”, he admitted and we got in his car.

On the way to my house Nate put his hand on my thigh as always. But suddenly I felt it moving closer and closer to my clothed core and a moan escaped my lips. “You like that?”, he asked, giving me a playful wink. I could only nod when he put his large hand under my miniskirt and pulled down my red lace panties.

When he stuck one of his calloused fingers in my tight hole and started rubbing my clit with the other ones I reached for Nate´s soft brown hair and gripped it as hard as I could. He quickly parked on the nearest free space and let`s just say it was a very long night.

———————————————-

omg guys! that`s the first fanfic i`ve ever written. i know it´s not the best but i still hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! anyways, feel free to send me requests on what i should write next. :)

-nicole

#euphoria #fanfic #fanfics #fanfiction #x reader #nate jacobs #jacob elordi #euphoria fanfic #fezco x reader #euphoria smut #couple #couple goals #imagine #euphoria imagine #nate jacobs imagine #nate x reader

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muffinbeliever · 3 years ago

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When the Stars Align [07]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Soulmate!Reader

Word Count: 4717

Warnings: language, sexual content, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), ANGST, but also cute date fluff, Lisa Braeden (yes this is a warning), crying, body insecurity

Summary: Soulmate!AU– Everyone has the first words their soulmate says to them tattooed on their wrists. You and your cat are living a normal life in Fort Collins, Colorado when three men come bursting through your door, completely changing your life. Reader-insert story. Starts around S06E08, but Sam has his soul, and it doesn’t really follow the series from there

A/N: HELLO !!!! i apologize for the delay my classes have been swamping me with work and i already had writers block but i finished this chapter like five minutes ago and i'm desperate to post it and see what you guys think ! please be sure to leave comments and likes as always <3

Masterlist | When the Stars Align Masterlist

Sunlight illuminated Dean’s face that you admired as you drove along the open road. The windows were down, a light breeze flowing through the car. Occasionally, Dean would catch you staring at him, but you didn’t mind and neither did he.

You giggled when you noticed a familiar neon sign and the red leather booths that peaked through the window, having been here only a couple of hours before.

“What?” Dean looked over at you, nervous as he didn’t know why you laughed. You shook your head, before replying.

“I just really like this place,” you said, refraining from telling him about your earlier excursion with Thomas, not wanting it to ruin the moment. He gave you a soft smile.

“I remember,” he said, his eyes shining with fondness, “You mentioned that you come here a lot when you were showing me around.” Your heart soared at the fact that he remembered the small detail.

He parked the car, before quickly getting out of the car, jogging over to your side to open the door before you could even register what had happened. He extended his arm and you giggled at his silliness before getting out of the car. He closed the door behind you, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back, gently leading you towards the diner.

There weren’t many people and you were grateful, hoping to have a quiet dinner with your soulmate and get to know him a bit better. He grabbed a booth snuggled against a corner of the room, gesturing you to sit down. You took one side of the table and he took the other side.

Two menus were placed on the table, and the dark-haired waitress flashed Dean a smile. She looked a couple of years older than you and her black jeans and tight shirt hugged her curves, her tied apron accentuating her slim waist. Her hair fell in gentle waves, framing her face in a way that yours never did.

“My name is Carmen, I’ll be serving you tonight,” she said directly to Dean. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, and you caught Dean glance at you.

“Can I start you off with anything to drink?” She asked, and Dean nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll have a Coke, please. Sweetheart, what about you?” He asked you kindly.

“A water, please,” you said to Carmen. Her eyes roamed your face and clothes, and she gave you a smirk.

“I’ll be right back with your drinks,” she said, winking at Dean before walking away, her hips swaying with each step. There was a familiar sinking feeling in your chest that reeked of self-doubt.

Who did you think you are? Bagging a guy like Dean Winchester? Obviously, you weren’t terrible to look at, but you sure as hell weren’t a head-turner. Guys didn’t double take when you passed by nor did they try to pursue you. The only exception was Thomas, and you were sure that it was more of a friendly attraction than romantic.

You picked up a menu, not even sparing Dean a glance, trying to focus on what you were going to eat. Despite having eaten here many times, you were surprised at the selection they offered. Most times, you got a salad, sometimes switching it up with a burger, but the prospect of a pastrami sandwich sounded especially inviting tonight. You were debating ordering the pastrami, but decided that it probably wouldn’t look very attractive to eat. Besides, you were already self-conscious about your body, might as well try to eat healthily. Out of the corner or your eye, you saw Carmen approach your table, placing down the two drinks and straws.

“Have you decided what to get, sugar?” Carmen said, flashing a smile at Dean, not that he noticed. He was still looking at the menu, preoccupied with the dozens of choices to choose from.

“Yeah, uh… I’ll get the double bacon cheeseburger with fries on the side,” he said, before looking up and handing her his menu.

“And you?” She asked in a bored tone.

“I’ll get the chicken salad please, dressing on the side,” you said and she wrote it down before leaving. Dean gave you a look.

“Salad? I thought you liked burgers,” he observed, and you felt your heart sink. You didn’t want to be a salad girl, but here you were. You chastised yourself, this is Dean. He doesn’t care if you eat a pastrami sandwich.

“You’re right, I’ll be right back,” you said with newfound courage before getting up from the booth and walking over to the counter. You were able to call out to Carmen.

“Actually, can I have the pastrami sandwich with a side of fries instead of the salad?” She scoffed.

“Figures,” she muttered, “You don’t look like the salad type.”

Her bitchy tone cut through your heart like a knife. You were taken aback, unable to think for a second. You tried formulating a response, but she was already gone. You looked over at Dean who was typing away on his phone, probably texting Sam. You were defeated once again by a beautiful woman.

You made your way to the table, sitting down, lost in your thoughts. Dean’s phone was put away and you were staring at the table. Thinking for a second, you got up, and a look of confusion flashed in Dean’s eyes, but it was gone when you slid into the booth right next to him.

“Hey there, sweetheart. Get a little lonely over there?” He joked and you rolled your eyes before snuggling closer to him, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne.

“Just missed you was all,” you mumbled into his shoulder and he kissed the top of your head.

“I missed you too, sweetheart,” he said, “but I can tell something is wrong.” He gave you a knowing look.

“Carmen is pretty,” you admitted, hating that you were being petty.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” he said, and you scoffed, pulling away to look at him.

“I’m not jealous,” you said, hoping you sounded more confident than you felt.

“I was just… I was making sure that… I…” you stammered before sighing, your shoulders falling in defeat.

“Yeah, okay maybe I was a little jealous. But clearly, we’re here together and she just kept staring at you, and don’t even get me started on how she talked to me.” You could feel yourself sinking deeper into your thoughts, hating that your stupid insecurities were about to ruin the date.

“What did she say to you?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowing. You shook your head, debating on not telling him, but his deep green eyes were full of concern and worry.

“Just that I don’t look like the salad type,” you said, lowering your head in embarrassment. A hand came up to cup your cheek and your eyes met his once again.

“That’s bullshit. You’re beautiful. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’m only yours, sweetheart,” he said, sincerely, before pulling you into a gentle kiss. It was scary how easily that calmed you down. You had struggled with insecurities for the majority of your life, and it usually took a couple of days, if not weeks, to pull yourself out of the dark hole in your mind, but one kiss from Dean, and all of the sudden, your heart stops racing and your thoughts slow.

Your kiss was disrupted by a clatter of plates on the table. Carmen didn’t speak a word to either of you and she was about to leave when Dean called out to her.

“You’re going to apologize to my girlfriend and then we’re getting a new server. You have no right to speak to her like that,” Dean defended you, an angry look on his face.

“Dean,” you whispered, a bit embarrassed by how this was going. She wasn’t exactly wrong, you weren’t supermodel-thin nor did you have amazing curves that drove men wild.

“Sorry,” Carmen said, not sounding sorry at all, before spinning on her heels and walking away from the table.

“Bitch,” Dean muttered, his eyebrows furrowing as he noticed you were lost in your thoughts, a small frown on your face. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head before you turned to look up at him.

“Let’s just enjoy our date,” you said with a hopeful smile, and he nodded. Forty minutes, a pastrami sandwich, and a double bacon cheeseburger later, you were giggling like a schoolgirl, enamored by the man sitting next to you.

“Sammy was sitting on the handlebars while I rode us to the hospital!” Dean exclaimed and you laughed at the story. He snatched a fry off your plate and dipped it in ketchup before shoving it in his mouth. You were acutely aware of the warmth radiating from his thigh that was pressed against yours. Caught up in his green eyes, you didn’t notice a man approach the table.

“How was the food?” You jumped, shocked at his sudden appearance. It was the manager, John or Jacob or something with a ‘J’. He came over after you complained about Carmen, apologizing for her behavior and telling you that he would be serving you for the rest of the night.

You beamed at him, completely satisfied with the pastrami sandwich that was now happily sitting in your stomach.

“Great!” Dean responded, flashing him a smile. The manager returned the smile before continuing.

“Because of your unpleasant start to the evening, dessert is on us. We have root beer floats, ice cream sundaes, and a variety of pies,” he listed, and you immediately looked at Dean whose eyes lit up.

“We’ll take a slice of apple pie, please,” Dean responded right away, his hand squeezing yours in excitement. You giggled at the smile on his face. The manager nodded and left the table, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence. You looked up at him, admiring the freckles dotting his face. He gave you a soft smile that you returned and you leaned in for a kiss. It was a chaste kiss, not one of need or lust, but adoration and love.

Throughout the months, you have accepted that you had fallen for the oldest Winchester brother. There was the obvious fact that he was your soulmate, the one person in the world made exactly for you, but you knew that even if that weren’t the case, you would have still been in love with Dean. You loved his wit and charm, often catching yourself imagining his flirtatious winks. Not only was he gorgeous to look at, but he didn’t flaunt it like other men did. Sure, he knew he was attractive, but you at times, you sensed deep-rooted insecurities from him, which you thought was ridiculous since he was basically built like a Greek god. He was selfless to a fault; always putting everyone before himself. His loyalty to Sam was admirable, and you had no doubt that he would do anything for those he loved.

The manager placed a giant steaming slice of pie between the two of you, two forks on the side of the plate as well as whipped cream. You expected Dean to dig right in, but he looked at you expectantly. The scent of the spiced apple filled wafted from the plate and made your mouth salivate. Dean picked up a fork and detached a large piece from the tip of the slice. Before you could even register his actions, he brought the fork up to your mouth and pressed it against your closed lips. You accepted it without question, humming as the warm treat hit your tongue.

“That bad, huh?” Dean joked with a twinkle in his eye. You smiled at him before returning the favor. Your fork didn’t grab nearly as big of a piece as his did, but you focused on the way his lips wrapped around the fork. His tongue swiped at his upper lip, not wanting to waste a single crumb of pie.

Heat pooled in your belly and you clenched your thighs together, remembering just how much of an expert he was with his tongue. He groaned, his eyes closed as he savored the pie, and the sound shot straight to the apex of your thighs. You let out a small whimper, and his eyes flashed open. His green eyes swept your figure, taking in your squished thighs and flushed neck before smirking at you.

“Later, sweetheart,” he promised, his fingers dancing on the top of your thighs. You could feel his warmth through your jeans, sparks of electricity shooting through you with every touch. You shuffled closer to him, wanting your bodies as close as possible.

“You want some more?” He offered to you and you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Dean got another piece of pie and shoved it in his mouth. You looked at him, confused, and he smirked at you once again before pulling you into a searing kiss. You let out a soft moan as his tongue played with yours, the taste of apple pie fresh in your mouths. His hand tightened around your thigh at the sound. He was the first to pull away, breathless.

“Let’s get this to go, ya?” He suggested with a wink and you giggled, nodding. You were lost in his smile, noting the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and his full lips turned up. He waved the manager down and asked for a box and the check. You placed the pie delicately in the take-out box as Dean set down enough cash to cover for the meal and tip.

You slid out of the booth first, pulling your leather jacket on and Dean’s hand rested on the small of your back, leading the both of you out of the diner. As you expected, the air was crisp and chilled. He opened the door of the Impala for you, making sure you were safely inside before shutting it. You watched as he jogged over to the driver's side, sliding in next to you. Grateful for the long bench, you shifted closer to Dean and his hand came to rest comfortably on your thigh.

The soft sounds of Bon Jovi whispered through the speakers, barely noticeable unless you strained your ears. The windows were closed this time due to the slightly colder weather, but you were warm with Dean beside you.

There wasn’t much talking on the way home. You sat in a comfortable silence, occasionally feeling his eyes on your face, but every time you looked at him, he was looking away, a smile on his face. After the third time, you huffed and grabbed his hand from your thigh, interlacing your fingers with his. He looked at you, surprise written on his face, and you gave him a triumphant smile. He brought your interlocked hands up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your hand.

Before you knew it, the familiar light of your street came into view and he pulled his car up in front of your house. You didn’t want to let go of his hand, so you slid out his door after he did, holding the box of pie in your other hand. The crickets were chirping as you walked up to the front door.

‘Later, sweetheart,’ came the echo of his voice throughout your mind, and you pulled him into the house, roughly kissing him once the door was closed. His arms came to your shoulders, gently pushing off the sleeves of your leather jacket. You struggled a little bit, not wanting to drop the pie in your hand, before Dean took it from you, setting it on the small table next to your door that usually held nothing but a small succulent.

He pulled off your shirt in a swift motion and his lips began traveling down your neck, occasionally sucking and licking sensitive spots. You gasped as he nibbled your earlobe.

“So responsive,” he murmured and an involuntary shiver ran through your body. His leg gently pushed your legs apart and his thigh pressed against your covered core. His hands gripped your waist, and you ground against his thigh, the friction of your jeans rubbing against your sensitive bud in a deliciously perfect way.

“Good girl,” he praised, continuing his trail of kisses from your neck down to the tops of your breasts.

“So beautiful,” he whispered to himself, staring at your flushed chest. You were wearing a simple bra, nothing fancy or particularly sexy, but Dean made you feel like you were in expensive lingerie, draped in the finest lace and silk in the world. You moaned wantonly, begging for more. You picked up the rhythm, moving faster against his thigh. He watched you with lust-filled eyes, devouring you. The pressure between your legs kept building until it finally peaked, and you came with a loud moan. Dean placed gentle kisses on your sweaty forehead, relaxing you as you came down from your high. His leg came down, setting your feet gently on the floor. Your legs felt like jello, occasional spasms wracking through them.

“Maybe we should move this to the bedroom,” you suggested, not wanting the night to be over. He picked you up in his arms and carried you bridal style into your room. He gently tossed you onto the bed. He peeled his clothes off and you wriggled out of your tight jeans and soaked underwear. Your hands went behind your back to unclasp your bra and you flung it off the bed, hearing it land on the floor with a soft thud. You laid back down on the bed, fully naked and ready for Dean.

His eyes swept over your naked body and you spied his cock straining through the fabric of his boxers. He quickly discarded his underwear and laid on top of you, his firm chest pressing against your naked breasts. You could feel him hard against your stomach and you snaked a hand between the two of you, wrapping your hand around his shaft.

Your thumb wiped across the slit, catching the beads of precum that were leaking from his tip. His breath caught and you slowly pumped him in your hands. One of his large hands came to rest on your right breast, his thumb brushing against your pebbled nipple. The other hand dipped into your wet folds, collecting your juices on his digits. You watched him suck them off his fingers before they were venturing into you once again. You whined, not wanting to wait another second for his cock to be inside you.

“Please,” you said, squirming beneath him. He had one hand lazily circling your clit and the other pinching and tugging at your breasts.

“Please what, sweetheart?” he asked, power dripping from his words. You searched for more friction, but couldn’t find any.

“Please fuck me,” you begged. “I want to feel you inside me please. Fill me up with your big cock.”

“Fuck, baby,” he swore under his breath, before lining himself at your entrance. With a single thrust, he was completely unleashed in you, and you let out an embarrassingly loud moan. He groaned into your neck, still not used to your tightness and warmth surrounding him. When you were adjusted to his large size, he began moving inside you.

His cock dragged along your walls with every thrust, emptying you and filling you repeatedly. Your legs hooked around his back, driving him deeper into you, hitting places you didn’t even know existed. Your moans bounced off the walls, as did his low grunts.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he demanded, his fingers working your clit once again. Your eyes clenched shut as you came around him with a scream. He pulled you into a bruising kiss and his thrusts became sloppy as he raced to catch his release, pulling out of you and spilling himself on your chest and stomach. Spent, he rolled next to you, the two of you heaving to catch your breath.

“Wow,” you whispered once your racing heart began to slow. He turned his face towards you, grinning.

“Yeah,” he agreed, before climbing out of bed to get you a damp towel. The two of you cleaned up in silence. He pulled on boxers and you pulled on underwear and his t-shirt, switching the light off before falling back into bed. His arms rested around you, your chests pressed against each other.

“Thank you for taking me on a date,” you said, catching his eyes with yours, “I’ve never been on one before, but I’m glad I waited for you.” You felt his body tense and his lips pressed tightly together.

“Sweetheart,” he started, and you saw regret fill his eyes.

“I should’ve waited for you. I wish I did,” he admitted, his voice tense. You shook your head and tried to press closer to him, but he pulled away.

“Dean,” you asked, confused, but it was his turn to shake his head.

“I never thought I’d meet you. I always thought this—,” he gestured towards your body, “you— I thought it was impossible. The life I live is not made for soulmates. I never imagined myself living a normal life with my soulmate. I couldn’t even bear the thought of it. So I didn’t.”

He ran a hand down his face, an exhausted sigh escaping his lips. You tugged at his hand, wanting to see him.

“I know that you have more experience than I do, Dean. That doesn’t bother me,” you tried to explain, but he pulled his hand away from yours.

“You don’t even know half of it,” he snapped back, and you pulled back at his sharp tone.

“Then explain it to me,” you demanded, knowing that this conversation had been boiling for a while and that it was only a matter of time before it reared its ugly head again. Dean must’ve known it too, because his eyes softened and he rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling.

“At first, it was just a bunch of one-night stands,” he started, and you laid stiffly, afraid that he would stop talking if you moved.

“I spent a lot of nights picking up girls in bars. I would flirt with them and take ‘em home. I’d show them a good time and leave before they’d wake up in the morning. It went on like that for years. I didn’t think I’d ever meet you. Hell, I didn’t even know if I’d be alive to meet you.

“But then I met Lisa, and for the first time in my life, I wanted to spend another night with a girl. I ended up spending a whole week at her place. I knew she wasn’t my soulmate. I knew that her soulmate died in a car accident years before. I knew that the universe didn’t perfectly make us for each other, but at the time, I didn’t care. Sam and Dad were on a case and I was alone.

“I thought about her a lot during my time on the road. I wanted to cling onto something— I needed to cling onto something. Years passed, and I still didn’t meet you. Me and Sammy ended up working a case in her city. I met her son.”

Your breath hitched. Her son? Dean turned his head towards you at the sound and saw the panic flash across your eyes.

“Oh no, Ben wasn’t my kid. I swear,” he tried to reassure you, but you didn’t feel comforted at the thought, you merely nodded, gesturing for him to resume his story.

“The apocalypse was approaching, and I was scared. I was weak and scared. I didn’t think I’d make it, and I had accepted the fact that I wouldn’t meet you before the world ended. I thought Lisa and Ben were all I had. I dreamed about her, quite a bit, really. I dreamed about having a life with her, mowing the lawn on Saturdays and picking Ben up from baseball practice. I visited her again before the whole Lucifer-Michael showdown happened. I told her that I’d made arrangements to keep her and Ben safe, and she asked me to stay with her, but I knew that I couldn’t. I had to be there for Sammy. For Bobby.

“But then, Sam was in the cage. I was lost and broken. So I did the only thing that I could think of. I left the hunting life and moved in with Lisa.” His words pierced you like a knife, your heart shattering into pieces. Tears pooled in your eyes.

You weren’t exactly sure why you were upset. It wasn’t his fault that the two of you hadn’t met at the time. It wasn’t his fault that he met Lisa before he met you. It wasn’t his fault that he sought comfort in her when you weren’t there for him. You knew it was no one’s fault, just circumstance, but that didn’t keep you from feeling a sting of betrayal.

“How long?” You whispered, knowing that if you spoke any louder it would crack and you would burst into tears. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to know the answer. He was silent for a moment, and you thought he wouldn’t respond.

“A year,” he said, his voice hoarse, seemingly filled with regret, concern, and pain. Your stomach dropped. A year? He spent a whole year with her. A whole year with her and her son. Their son. It didn’t matter that Dean wasn’t Ben’s biological father, you already knew that Dean loved him like his own. You let out a shaky breath, preparing yourself to ask the question that had been floating around your mind ever since he started.

“Did you love her?”

You couldn’t even meet his eyes. You looked anywhere but him, your eyes roaming over your ceiling instead of the green eyes that were staring at you. He was quiet, and you closed your eyes, feeling tears spill down the side of your face.

“I thought I did, but I don’t know anymore,” came his whispered reply. “In some ways, it probably was love. But not the kind of love that would survive. I couldn’t live a life without hunting. She couldn’t live a life with hunting.”

You winced at his words. The implication that if they were able to compromise, he wouldn’t be laying next to you right now, but next to her. You wished he had just said yes. Maybe it would’ve hurt less.

“Okay,” you said because there was nothing else to say. You contemplated kicking him out of the bed, but you still loved him, and you knew that it would just pain you more. You turned over on your side, your back facing him. You pulled the covers up, wanting them to swallow you whole. There was movement on the bed and you heard the shuffling of sheets, feeling Dean’s warm body come close to yours to hold you, but you tensed up.

“Please don’t,” you whispered, and he stilled before respecting your wishes, retreating back to his side of the bed. You gripped a pillow against your side, hugging it for comfort. You tried to keep your sobs silent, but there was no use hiding them.

You cried for your pain and hurt, wanting to hate Dean, but you couldn’t. You cried for the love lost between the two of you. You cried because you didn’t know if he even wanted you. But most of all, you cried for Dean. You cried for the burdens he’s endured and that you couldn’t be there for him during times of hardship. You cried because you knew that it wasn’t Dean’s fault, yet here you were punishing him because you were really punishing yourself.

As your tears slowed and your breath became steady again, you were exhausted. You were already drifting off to sleep when you felt Dean’s fingers in your hair and a gentle kiss to your forehead. Too tired to argue, you snuggled into his body and let sleep take you away.

Taglist: @akshi8278 @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @lanea-1 @slamminmine

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x soulmate!reader #dean winchester x y/n #reader x dean #reader x dean winchester #y/n x dean winchester #y/n x dean #dean winchester angst #dean angst #dean winchester fluff #dean fluff #supernatural #supernatural series #muffinbeliever

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wavyhairedbabyy · 4 years ago

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Racing Thoughts - P.1

karl jacobs x gn!reader

CW: relationship negligence, ANGST, slight yelling

tldr: Reader isn’t getting the attention they want. They’ve had enough.

a/n: this is the first thing I’ve written since high school as well as the first time I’ve posted on tumblr since high school. Pls be gentle.

Part 1 - Part 2

***

“Baby, can we do something together? I feel like we haven’t done something in ages.” Y/n stood at the door, asking their boyfriend meekly. They already knew the answer though. It’s been different variations of same answer for the past two months. An apology, an excuse, followed by an empty promise. They always had high hopes of a different answer, but the expectation always remained low.

“I’m sorry, baby. I gotta finish planning out this stream for the SMP. It’s getting closer and closer every day so I need to make sure I plan it out well. We can watch some TV before we go to bed though.” Karl said, not tearing his eyes from his work. Y/n knew that they wouldn’t. They’d put one episode on and he would be asleep 5 minutes in.

Y/n sighed. No matter how many times they’ve mentioned the one sided feeling in their relationship with Karl, it seemed that nothing ever changed.

He’s more in love with his work than you.

He just has a lot on his plate, cut him some slack.

Why? So you can keep moping around, feeling lonely in this apartment you should be sharing with you boyfriend?

Similar thoughts ran through their brain everyday, like an angel and a devil whispering in either ear. They knew Karl never meant any malintent. He had a lot to juggle between the SMP streams, alt streams, Mr. Beast work, and whatever else he had going on. But it wasn’t fair that y/n always felt like they fell on the bottom of that list. It was starting to take a toll. Why invest all of your time, energy, and love in someone who can’t reciprocate it?

Y/n went to their room. They couldn’t stay here, in their apartment, they knew that. Not in a place where they felt like the bottom of the barrel. They needed out. Just for a day, or two, or three. It’s not like Karl would even noticed, right? He barely paid attention to them while they were here so what would the difference be if they weren’t?

Y/n reached for their duffel bag from under the bed and began to pack. They didn’t know how long they would be gone so overpacking looked like the best plan of action. The next forty five minute were spent filling the bag until they couldn’t any more. While double checking for anything they could’ve missed, they heard their name from the door frame.

“Y/n?” Karl said, his tone confused. They locked eyes, “What’s going on?”

Y/n froze. They didn’t expect him to finish working for another fifteen to thirty minutes. Of course they planned on telling him before they left, but him finding out this way just made the conversation ten times harder.

“Oh, hey Karl. I was just about to come up and tell you,” not a complete lie, “I’m going to (y/b/f)’s house tonight. I just need to get some thoughts together and I don’t think that’s going to go over well here.”

“Oh, uh- what kind of thoughts? Anything I can help with?” He asked. There was an immediate panic in him. The way his eyes darted around and he started to play with his hands showed the feeling. He knew what thoughts you needed help with, you both have talked about it them a handful of times. He just never wanted to accept that he was the reason these thoughts kept popping up.

Y/n sighed, thoughts continuing to race through their head.

He’s making this harder than it needs to be.

But he deserves to know the truth.

Does he? He practically has been like a stranger the last few months.

Except he’s not. He’s your boyfriend that loves you.

He has a weird way of showing it.

The back and forth continued, until they broke it to respond. Hastily, they said “No, I have to figure this out with (y/b/f). Sorry, Karl.”

Y/n picked up their bag and pushed past him, heading toward the front door. They could hear Karl’s footsteps close behind.

Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.

“Y/n?” They ignored him, but he kept calling. “Y/n?” They continued their path to the front door. His footsteps stopped. “Y/n, please!”

Y/n turned around. They faced each other from opposite sides of the living room. His eyes looked sad, confused, and hurt. Through all the emotions that shone through his eyes, he spoke evenly, “Are you breaking up with me?”

The question laid heavy in the air. The thoughts came back.

Am I? Will I?

If things keep going this way, yeah.

But he has to slow down eventually, right? He doesn’t mean to make you a low priority.

You’ve been saying that for the last two months. He won’t slow down.

“I don’t know,” they said honestly, “I’ve told you, I’ve been feeling alone in this relationship and there hasn’t been any change to make me feel less like that.”

“Baby, you know I have a lot going on. I can’t just drop my work or I’ll fall behind.” Karl defended.

“So you drop me instead?” The response was quick, almost cutthroat.

“That’s not what I said-“

“But it’s what you meant.”

Tensions were high. Both pairs of eyes glossed with tears. Y/n gripped tightly at their duffle while Karl’s head hung low, thinking of the words to say.

“Fine, just leave then,” he ran his hands through his hair as they made eye contact. That wasn’t the response y/n was expecting.

“That’s it? There’s the threat of a break up and you’re just going to say nothing?” Their volume was louder and more forceful.

“What am I supposed to say? You seem to have your mind made up on how I prioritize things between my work and you so what else am I supposed to do?” His volume and tone grew louder than theirs. Tears slowly began to roll down his cheeks. His face quickly went from his natural color to a red tone, “I hate making you feel like less of a priority, but I can’t stop working. I have deadlines to meet for everyone”

“Well congrats. You made every deadline for work, but haven’t been able to meet my needs or wants in a relationship for 2 months. If you can’t then maybe you just shouldn’t be in a relationship right now, Karl.” With that, y/n turned on their heel and went out the front door.

You’re going to regret leaving.

It may be the best choice to save myself.

***

Part 2

#karl jacobs x reader #karl jacobs #reader insert #karl jacobs fanfic #karl jacobs angst #karl jacobs x reader angst

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babytaes · 4 years ago

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reaction to period cramps with s/o | tbz- ─ ot11 ˎˊ˗

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧ sangyeon∘*

As he walked into the room, switching on the goddamn lamp, you screamed and threw your pillow at the figure.

“SHUT IT OFF, or I'm going to hurt whoever did it.” You sat up slowly and squinted at the intruder. You scowl and instantly soften your tone.

“I apologize for disturbing your sleep. I know how difficult this time is for you. When you come out, I made some chamomile tea.” He slowly closed the door behind you and whispered to his members.

"The Devil has awakened."

✧ jacob∘*

“It'll be fine, sweetheart; just let it all out.” Jacob covered his ears as your screams pierced through the whole house. You cried and moaned as your cramps took over your whole body.

“Jacob... It's never been this bad in my life. What if I'm pregnant or, you know, dying?” Since the pain had become unbearable, you collapsed to the ground, sobbing.

Jacob rushed to your side, gently rubbing your stomach to relieve some pain, and chuckled as he said, "I doubt we're pregnant, and you're not dying, you're strong, and you'll get through this." “Keep in mind it’s only one more day.”

You grinned and patted his shoulder before turning your attention to him and gently moving him out of the bathroom.

“Thank you bub, please go get me some chocolate before I explode again!” Jacob walked out the bathroom with a concerned expression on his face, clutching his key and aiming straight for the door.

✧ younghoon∘*

As you curled up to him, softly snoring in your sleep, he grinned. He and you had just been through your first-ever "period cramp" as a couple, and it was a whirlwind. He wrapped you up tightly with his arm around your body as he slowly lifted the comforter over your cold body.

He kissed your head and switched off the light before falling back beside you, clinging to your ever so soft body and savoring this brief yet sweet bliss.

✧ hyunjae∘*

“I understand you're here for support, but you're irritating me and making me horny, and I don't need that right now.” In your disheveled state, you threw your pillow at Hyunjae's face as he shook his head at you.

“So you're implying that the fact that I'm here makes you want to have a loving intercourse with me?” To ignore his remark, you rubbed your temples and rolled over on your side.

“If you don't quit in the next 10 seconds, I'll personally kick you in the balls.” He chuckled and walked out of the room after sharing a few sentences

“I'll be here when you actually NEED me”

✧ juyeon∘*

You complained as you clung to Juyeon's leg, stroking it awkwardly. As you pouted, Juyeon gleaned from his phone and gently moved you aside.

“Y/N, you've been caressing my leg for the fourth time today; my lips are up here if you want more action.” You laughed as your cramps returned . The pain intensifies as you put your hand to your stomach.

“Please don't make any more jokes. You're adding to the problem. If you won't give me the comfort I need I'll get it from one of the other members. Isn't it Eric who suggested a cuddle session earlier? I might have to accept his offer.”

Before you could get out of bed, Juyeon caught you and held you tightly, saying, "Don't even think about it; stay here, please." But please don't hump my leg.”

✧ kevin ∘*

As you felt a fever growing within you, Kevin rushed into the room with a new heating pad and replaced the old one. You reached out and gently squeezed Kevin's palm.

“Hey, just wanted to say thank you for the help,” you stammered as the sleep overtook your body. I appreciate it and just wanted to thank you for taking such good care of me during this difficult period.

As you slept, he kissed your forehead, wiped the sweat from your brow, flipped off the light, and whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

✧ new∘*

You were sitting on the bathroom floor as New rubbed his face mask over your skin, which felt cool and pleasant to the touch.

New stood up and picked your pills, which he handed to you when you took and drank them on the first try.

“Hey, you did it in one go. I'm incredibly proud of you, Y/N.” As you leaned into his touch, yearning for more, he rubbed your head. As you sank into his lap and closed your eyes, the moment hit you.

“Just stay here for a moment, I need to rest my eyes.”

✧ q∘

Q knocked on the bathroom door before you turned on the water to wash away the foul stench that was emitting from your body.

“Hey, Y/N,” I'm not sure the kind you preferred, and did you know that there are so many different brands of pads and tampons? I even saw something called Period Panties, isn't it cool

“You know what, you can tell me all about it when you get back from the store, once you return all of these items, but leave the panties, and finally, could you pick me up a smoothie on the way home, my regular,” you said as you opened the door and kissed him on the cheek.

You grabbed the right kind of pads from the stack of several and reminded him that it will always be the blue bag with the yellow suns.

As he watched you spit out other stuff for him to do, he struggled to type anything into his phone. He began walking toward the entrance, wiping a fake sweat from his forehead.

“I won't disappoint you, my love,” he said as you shut the door behind you.

✧ juhaknyeon∘*

“Y/N, WAKE UP THERE IS BLOOD COMING OUT OF YOU, WE NEED TO GET YOU TO THE BATHROOM STAT! Someone call the doctor.”

You groaned when you knew your period had finally begun, and it had arrived on Ju's bedsheets. You hurried to the bathroom, stripped off your clothing, and turned on the water with caution.

You poked your head out before jumping in and said to Ju, "Stop yelling, it's just my period, and I'm so sorry for the mess I made. When I get out of this shower, I'll clean it up.”

As he jogged over to you, he exhaled and calmed his breathing.

“I've got it covered; you take care of yourself, and I've got the sheets,” If you like, I'll go out and get some chocolate.” He kissed your brow and dashed off to get your goods.

✧ sunwoo∘*

Sunwoo's head spun around as he faced you as you walked slowly into his room. “What's going on Y/N?” he asked, cocking his head and removing his earphones.

“My stomach hurts so much baby,” you mumble as you trudge through his cluttered room and flopped down face first on the side of his bed moaning onto the mattress.

"I can tell" Sunwoo kept track of your period on his calendar; it was more of a warning for him than a helpful tool.

“Do you mind if I stay with you?” you asked, raising your head.

As you wrapped him in hugs and kisses, he stretched his hand and raised you to his feet making space for you on his bed.

✧ eric∘*

As the door flung open and a worried Eric ran through, you were startled awake. He pushed past the heap of clothes on the floor and knelt beside you.

“I came as quickly as I could because New told me you were moaning and crying. Is everything okay with you, dear, or is there something wrong?” As you threw your frail body around his large figure, he patted your head.

“I had just begun my period, and the cramps were excruciating. But for the time being, I'll be fine; you should bring me some of that cake from the fridge though.”

Eric dashed to the door but abruptly came to a halt and turned to face you, “Wait, that's my birthday cake though.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Masterlink

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blossom-hwa · 4 years ago

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Skipping Stones - KEVIN

This was the second full scenario I ever finished for The Boyz and I think it was pretty nice to start with some soft Kevin :D THANK YOU KAI FOR LETTING ME YELL TO YOU ABOUT THIS ONE I HOPE IT LIVES UP TO YOUR EXPECTATIONS.

Anyway! Happy (slightly early but only by a couple hours??) birthday to one of the best boys in the world, the one and only wonderful beautiful lovely Kevin Moon! I hope you all enjoy this <3 please reblog if you did!

Pairing: Kevin x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, teacher!au

Triggers: cursing, alcohol

Word Count: 7.8k

Falling in love with you, Kevin thinks, is a bit like skipping stones.

Alternatively:

Five times Kevin felt himself falling deeper in love with you, and the one time he knew he was gone.

TBZ Masterlist | Touching Stars | Breathe, and Live

prelude.

Kevin knows he exists to be clowned. His sister says it’s something about his face – there’s something undeniably meme-y about his reactions, apparently, that makes him very clownable. His students tell him it’s in his demeanor – he comes off as pretty chill, according to them, which makes him easy to tease because they know he’ll react in some hilarious way, but it won’t affect him too deeply.

(Changmin just says he’s stupid, which makes him clownable to the highest degree, but Kevin refuses to take information from the teacher who still scares him every other week with whichever horror movie mask has recently caught his fancy.)

So Kevin knows he’s just a clownable human being, and he’s resigned himself to that fate for the rest of his life. But around you? His calm, collected, hilarious, wonderful partner? He expected a little less clownery and a little more loving.

“Oh, come on,” you laugh, trying to get Kevin to turn around. Honestly, he’s already feeling the effects of withdrawal from not seeing your smile for more than a few minutes, but he refuses to budge, lips curved downwards in a semi-permanent pout. He knows he won’t be able to keep this up for long (he’ll miss looking at your face too much, and really, he can’t be mad at you about anything), but he can make a scene. “Kevin!”

“You’re so mean,” he whines, still resisting your efforts to make him look at you. “I just poured out a very embarrassing part of my childhood to you and instead of comforting me, you laugh?” His pout deepens. “I don’t know why we’re dating.”

Your hands leave the back of his shoulders. For a second, Kevin thinks you’ve given up and he’s about to start whining about that too, but then you appear in front of him, fingers clasped placatingly. “All right, all right, Kevin.” Still grinning, you grab his hands. “I won’t tease anymore. But seriously, how could you expect me not to laugh my ass off when you told me you learned to skip stones for the –” you make jazz hands, presumably to emphasize your point – “aesthetic?”

Kevin sticks his lip out childishly. “I didn’t think it was that funny,” he mumbles.

“It’s not, not really.” You squeeze his hands. “But it’s a move that’s got Kevin Moon stamped all over it.” As if to accentuate your point, you snort. “Of course you’d learn to skip stones for the aesthetic.”

“Y/N,” he whines.

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop.” Your teasing grin melts into an eager smile. “Hey, teach me?”

“Right now?”

“Why not?”

It feels like Kevin’s physically crumbling to pieces with the way your hopeful voice and sparkling eyes just attack him from all angles. Grudgingly, the deep pout on his lips stretches into a smile, the starstruck smile that all of his friends like to tease him for. “Fine, let’s go.”

He spends the rest of the afternoon stepping around small children and younger couples, trying to find suitable rocks for skipping and teaching you the right angles, the right stance, the right way to hold the stone in your hand before sending it into the water. You learn fast, something he envies – where it took him at least a couple of weeks to perfect the art, you (mostly) pick it up in a matter of hours – but he can’t feel too jealous or too bad when you look up at him after your stone skips once on the water. “Kevin, I did it!” You shake him slightly. “Did you see that?”

The softest smile spreads across Kevin’s face as he kisses your forehead softly “Yeah, I did.”

When he pulls away, you give him the brightest grin before scrambling away to find more stones to skip. Kevin just watches, taking in the way your figure looks against the setting sun, bright gold and pale pink light streaming over your body, almost making you glow.

This is why he fell in love with you, he thinks. Your character, your tenacity, the way you throw yourself into every task you’ve been assigned so that you can complete it as best as you can. It doesn’t matter if you’re trying to treat a new cancer case at the hospital or trying to skip a stupid rock across the water. You always give it your all.

Idly, Kevin picks up a stone of his own. With a practiced flick of his wrist, it goes sailing onto the lake, skipping three, four, five times before sinking beneath the surface.

Falling in love with you is a bit like skipping stones, he thinks, watching the stone disappear from sight. Someone had to force him into that first blind date with you, much like making the first toss of the stone into the water, but every skip after that was quick, effortless, the way he felt himself falling for you, step by stumbling step, until his heart finally gave in and sank below the waves of your warmth.

It’s hard to imagine a time when he wasn’t in love with you, even though such a time did at one point exist. But the way you make him feel with the smallest things you do – the way you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, the way you rest your chin on your hand in thought – it feels like he’s known you for an eternity and loved you even longer, loved you before time existed.

Your stone skips twice across the water and you shout with joy, racing up to Kevin to celebrate. He catches you when you leap at him, arms wrapping around your waist automatically, smiling into your shining face. Yes, he thinks, he’s in love.

He’s so in love with you.

. . . . .

Kevin, by all definitions of the word, is panicking.

He’s been dreading this blind date for almost a month now, circling the day on his calendar and marking it D-Day, begging Jacob and Changmin to come along and hide in case he needs to be bailed out, relentlessly praying that he’ll be able to leave the stupid date in one piece.

(Look, as much as he appreciates Mrs. Park’s kindness and her brownies, she can be… a little overbearing. To say the least.)

Just a few hours ago, he was putting on his yellow sweater and bemoaning the existence of his pushy coworker. Just a few hours ago, he was lamenting his fate to his two friends (friends is a term he will use loosely for today – all they did was laugh at him). Just a few hours ago, he was cursing the existence of Mrs. Park and her brownies for getting him locked into this date with her sister’s kid. Wait, was it her sister? Or her brother?

(“Yes, her sister,” Changmin says, rolling his eyes. “Pay more attention, won’t you, Kev?”

Kevin groans. “Why couldn’t either of you be chosen by Mrs. Park, huh? Why me?”

“Because I have a partner and Jacob is good at disappearing.” Changmin grins that evil, evil grin he always has on just before he’s about to execute a prank on someone (usually Kevin).

“More like the two of you are good at leaving me to fend for myself against Mrs. Park, even though you know I can’t say no to shit,” Kevin grumbles.

“Give up her brownies,” Jacob suggests.

Kevin gasps. “No way in hell.”)

But now, he’s actually sitting across from you in a café not too far from his apartment, holding a cup of coffee between his (visibly shaking) hands. And he can’t even think of why he was dreading this date so much because you’re just… really, really perfect.

Why are you so sweet? he’s screaming inside. Why are you so funny? Why are you literally the perfect mix of snark and kindness and just – everything?

“So my aunt told me you work with her,” you say, seemingly oblivious to Kevin’s jitters. The smile on your face is really sending electricity racing through his heart. “I know the children must be fun, but I know she can be a bit… overbearing.” There’s a hint of apology in your eyes, like you know your aunt must have pressured him into this and you’re sorry that he had to come on a date with you.

Kevin’s stomach flip-flops. Okay, so Mrs. Park maybe did severely pressure and sweetly blackmail Kevin into a blind date. But Kevin also doesn’t want you to feel bad for it because it’s not your fault at all, so as usual, when he finds himself in a tight spot, his mouth decides it’s time to run.

“No, your aunt is really nice,” he starts. “I really mean it – she’s always very kind to the kids and to the rest of us teachers. I’m still kind of new compared to the rest of them – I’ve only been at the school for a few years now – but she helped me feel welcome that first year when I was still figuring things out. And she also likes Beyonce! You know, the greatest female artist there is? She let me play my entire playlist of Beyonce songs for her last year and she liked every single one of them!”

Kevin’s babbling now. Rambling. Whatever he wants to call it. His brain is screaming for him to stop talking but his mouth won’t stop running because this is what he does when he’s nervous. He talks. Endlessly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the table where Changmin and Jacob are situated in case they need to rescue him from mental or physical harm. The top of Changmin’s head is barely visible behind a huge menu so Kevin can barely see his friend, but somewhere in his babbling haze, he notices a phone camera poking out from behind the menu.

If he wasn’t blushing before, he definitely is now.

Finally, his mouth listens to his brain and he trails off on his last thought on why Beyonce is the best artist in the entire world. There’s a second of silence.

“Sorry,” Kevin finally squeaks. “I… tend to ramble when I get nervous. Or when I talk about Beyonce.”

Your smile flashes even wider. Kevin is torn between wanting to melt into the ground out of embarrassment and staying upright to keep seeing that grin on your face.

“Don’t be sorry,” you laugh, fiddling with your cup of coffee. “I thought it was cute.”

Kevin’s face burns so much that he misses what you say next. “Sorry?”

You grin. “I’m always interested in hearing about a new artist to add to my playlist.”

Kevin lets out a theatrical gasp. “You don’t have Beyonce in your music library?”

A sheepish look spreads across your face. “… No?”

“Oh my God.” Kevin pulls out his phone. “Okay, I’m about to educate you on the artist of our time.”

The afternoon, then, passes in a flash. Changmin and Jacob eventually just up and exit the café (presumably with enough blackmail to last the rest of Kevin’s life – he knows he was acting like a complete fool, but luckily, you didn’t seem to care), leaving him alone with you. Under any other circumstances, he probably would’ve started crying, but you’re so sweet and so interesting that Kevin thinks he could stay and talk to you in this café forever.

He learns you’re an oncologist at a nearby children’s hospital, that even though the work is hard and tiring and sometimes overwhelmingly depressing, the strength of the children and the families you work with inspire you to keep going every day. He learns that you don’t have too much of a sweet tooth (though you won’t say no to ice cream or cheesecake, both of which he notes in his head), he learns that you love coffee, and he learns that you like to take walks in the park whenever you have a little bit of free time.

He also learns that you’re snarky, intelligent, driven, hardworking. He learns that you’re something far beyond the beauty of your face – that underneath your skin, there’s a heart that’s warmer than the sun.

Kevin understands that this is only the first date and that he maybe shouldn’t be making judgments so quickly. But he’s been told that he’s a relatively good judge of character, and the genuine look in your eyes when you talks speaks volumes about the person deep inside.

Even though you live further away, Kevin takes the bus with you to your home, citing that it’s only polite to walk one’s date to the door (in reality, he just wants to spend a little more time with you). As the bus rattles along the road, Kevin lets you listen to the songs on his phone, delighting in the way your head bobs to the beat of his favorite tracks.

Kevin’s a bit sad when you reach your apartment, sad that your time together is over for the day. He lingers outside the building for a moment, trying to work up the courage to ask about a second date.

Suddenly, you lean forward. Kevin jerks back – he briefly wonders if you’re trying to kiss him – but you just pat a spot on his sweater, frowning slightly at your fingers. “Is that… paint?”

Oh my God.

Kevin tugs the material of his sweater forward so he can see the spot you’re pointing at. Sure enough, there’s a small patch of red paint on the yellow fuzz. He groans. “I didn’t even notice.”

“Well, that’s what people like us get for working with children.” You roll your eyes comically, and Kevin bursts into laughter that’s definitely too loud for the small joke you made. Then silence falls again.

You break it. “Listen, Kevin.”

He perks up. “Hmm?”

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to this date because my aunt has been trying to set me up with people my age for several years now.” For the first time today, you look shy. “She was probably really pushy with you too, so I’m sorry about that. But I really enjoyed this afternoon.” You meet Kevin’s eyes. “If you’d like, I’d love to go on a second date.”

Kevin’s heart explodes. It really does. Sheer excitement courses through his veins, and he has to stop himself from smiling widely enough to mimic a god damn clown. “I’d love that,” he says trying to hide how eager he really is. “Um, I’ll say that I wasn’t exactly looking forward to this either, mostly because my experience with blind dates has had… limited success. But I’m really glad I met you. You’re a wonderful person.”

Your smile grows wider at Kevin’s admission. “Thank you, Kevin. You’re wonderful too.”

“Do you kiss on the first date?” he blurts out because his brain has no filter. Then he backtracks. “Um, it’s totally okay if you don’t, I was just asking, please don’t think I’m a creep –”

You briefly press your lips to his. Kevin shuts up.

When you break away, Kevin honestly thinks you’re glowing. “Does that answer your question?” you ask, bravely trying to hide something – is that embarrassment? Whatever it is, he thinks it’s adorable.

Kevin blushes. “Yes.”

People probably think he’s insane with the way he’s smiling on the bus ride back to his apartment. He can’t help it, though – the tingling touch of your lips, gentle against his, plays over and over in his mind, along with memories of your lovely voice and your lovely smile and your lovely, lovely disposition. Some people are giving him weird looks, and Jacob and Changmin are sure to tease him to no end when he comes in to work tomorrow.

But who cares? Kevin’s got a second date in the works with one of the most wonderful people he’s ever met.

In his mind, he’s on top of the world.

. . . . .

ii.

Usually, when Kevin gets lucky and scores a second date or a third, he suggests taking his date somewhere with children to gauge how they feel about small toddlers tearing up the place. Children are a huge part of Kevin’s life – he teaches elementary school and knows he wants kids when he gets a bit older – so one of the silent standards he’s set for potential significant others is that they have to like and be good with children.

You work at a children’s hospital, Kevin knows, so you must at least be good with kids, even if you might not like them (hey, it’s possible – Kevin has known many people who are good at things they hate). That fulfills half of the standard. He just needs to gauge the other half.

There aren’t many events at the school coming up, though – no plays, no art exhibitions, nothing he can really invite you to. He’s racking his brains for a third date somehow involving children when you unexpectedly call him about an event at the hospital.

“I know it’s last minute,” you apologize profusely, “but the guy who was supposed to come today for the kids’ music hour called in sick. I don’t want to cancel the event because they always look forward to it and I know you play the piano – would it be possible for you to fill in?”

It is possible, it turns out. He may not be able to pack his Yamaha upright into the back of your car, but he does have an electronic keyboard that fits into your trunk. The whole way there, you’re apologizing, but between reassurances that it’s totally fine, Kevin can’t help but anticipate how you’ll act around the children once the two of you arrive.

Setting up takes more time than he’d like (the extension cord that comes with his keyboard is too short, so you disappear on a twenty-minute manhunt for a longer one while Kevin just stands there awkwardly), which makes him feel slightly like a burden on the rest of your coworkers. They’re so polite, though, so genuine and kind, that Kevin eventually starts to feel more at ease.

(He’s still endlessly grateful when you return, extension cord clasped victoriously in one hand.)

Then the kids start trickling in, and Kevin’s heart immediately both breaks and melts. Some are in wheelchairs, others have lost their hair, but they’re all smiling with so much excitement, chattering to their parents and the staff around them as they settle on beanbags and pillows on the floor. Several look at him curiously and he smiles at them, prompting several questions about who he is, why there’s a keyboard and not a guitar, and why the normal guy isn’t here.

“The usual guy got sick and couldn’t come,” Kevin says to one sweet girl with chubby cheeks and shining eyes. “I’m just here to replace him for a day.”

“Do you play the piano?” she asks, shyly pointing at the keyboard, which more than a few curious souls are standing around.

Kevin smiles. “Yes, I do.” He would say more, maybe offer to show her the instrument a little, but then you’re walking over, and her eyes brighten. “Dr. L/N!” she cheers.

With a loud laugh, you swoop her up carefully, cradling the girl against your shoulder. “How are you, Daeun?” you ask, lips spread in a smile that Kevin knows can’t be faked.

The girl – Daeun – grins. “I’ve been good!” she announces proudly. “Are we going to start soon?”

You laugh again, settling her back down on the floor. Kevin thinks his heart melts with the way your eyes sparkle. “Yes, we are,” you say. “I see you’ve already met Kevin?”

“Your name is Kevin?” Daeun looks at him curiously. “Your name is strange.”

Kevin has to force himself not to coo. “I was born in Canada,” he says. “My Korean name is Hyungseo.”

Daeun’s nose scrunches. “I like Kevin more,” she decides with finality.

Kevin feels brave enough to pat her on the head. “Then you can call me Kevin.”

“All right, Daeun. Go find your mom, okay? Kevin and I are going to finish setting up, and then we’ll get started.” With a soft kiss on the forehead (Kevin makes a sound he really hopes you don’t hear – the scene is just too adorable), you send the small girl off, turning back to Kevin. “Shall we get started?” you ask, grinning widely.

It may only be the third date, but he’s falling in love, Kevin thinks, falling in love with your shining face and sparkling eyes, with the way you shower love upon the children you’ve placed under your care. Right now, you’re everything he’s ever wanted in a future partner – beautiful in character, kind, gentle, fiercely loving.

His heart pounds a little faster.

Belatedly, Kevin realizes you’re waiting for a response and nods quickly. “Yeah,” he breathes, eyes glancing over the sea of children waiting (somewhat) patiently. A smile to rival yours spreads across his face. “Let’s get started.”

. . . . .

iii.

Kevin loves the last Friday of every month, he really does. It’s been tradition for several years now to go out with Changmin and Jacob on what he calls nights for “the boyz” to eat cheap food and get drunk. And no matter how much the others complain about the stupid name (Kevin will admit it sounds stupid now, but that doesn’t mean he’ll change it), he knows they enjoy the nights all the same.

Sometimes, though, Kevin just wishes he had more of a filter on his mouth. If not that, then maybe his brain could stop remembering every single dumb thing he said or did on drunk nights out. It would make his life a lot easier if he could just forget being stupid.

But no, God decided to be mean when making Kevin Moon. So Kevin, as a result, is an emotional drunk. He cries a lot when he hears about sad or adorable things, he says a lot of stupid stuff to (badly) express his overwhelming feelings, and worst of all, he remembers all of it when he wakes up hungover the next morning.

(None of this stops him from getting drunk anyway. Kevin Moon doesn’t learn lessons when it comes to alcohol. When he falls on his face (sometimes literally), he just gets up again, even if it’s with a bloody nose.)

Luckily, the night doesn’t end in chaos. Even though Jacob, who’s half of Kevin’s impulse control, leaves after an hour (he’s meeting with his family the next day, so Kevin is obligated call him a noob – it’s like a law of physics or something), Changmin doesn’t seem to be in the mood to do weird things without Jacob there to stop him, so the night passes relatively smoothly without Kevin throwing, like, a tantrum or anything.

He gets close, though. Because damn, if Changmin isn’t so fucking adorable when talking about his partner. Buried in his purple hoodie, black hair peeking softly over the top, it’s impossible for Kevin not to tear up when Changmin begins gushing over his beautiful, amazing, wonderful significant other whom he just compared to stardust.

Stardust.

Kevin wants to scream, that’s so romantic.

When you come to pick him and Changmin up, Kevin can’t resist relaying all of this to you as soon as he gets in the car. Vaguely, he thinks he should be worried about Changmin hearing it and hitting him, but the boy is mostly asleep in the back, eyes only fluttering slightly when you go over a bump or something. After Changmin gets dropped off at his apartment, Kevin turns the gushing on full force.

“Y/N, the love of my life, he called her stardust,” he’s still babbling even as you strongarm him up to his own apartment. “He’s so adorable. Changmin is so adorable. Oh my God.”

He thinks you snort. Probably. It would be a normal response. “Didn’t you call him the spawn of Satan just a few days ago?”

Definitely a snort, Kevin thinks, but he’s too invested in Changmin’s loveliness to whine about you making fun of him. “Y/N,” he pouts instead, “listen to meeeeee.”

“I’m listening, I’m listening.” You grunt, catching him just as he misses the next step and almost falls forward. “Hey, be careful.”

“’M trying.” Kevin manfully does his best to stop the world from tilting on its side. “But Changminnie.”

“Yes, yes, Changminnie.” Even drunk, Kevin can make out the playful exasperation in your voice. “Keep going.”

“Thank you, love of my life.” Kevin tries to give you a kiss but his lips hit air instead of your cheek. “Heck.”

You burst into loud laughter. “Kevin Moon, you never told me you were this adorable when drunk.”

“Changminnie,” he says more insistently.

“Okay, yes, I’m listening.” You kiss his cheek instead, and Kevin almost topples over right then and there. “Hey, you can’t fall over whenever I kiss you. Tell me about Changmin.”

Kevin starts flailing his arms around as best he can. “He’s so cute!” he half-yells. “He told me his partner was like stardust because she’s so perfect and warm, but she’s also like stardust because… because…”

His lip juts out.

“Oh, no, don’t cry, Kev.” You stop moving, then Kevin registers you bundling him into a hug, patting his head. “I know you’re a sad emotional drunk, but don’t cry.”

“Not crying,” Kevin protests, visibly crying.

“Mhm.” You pat his head one last time before letting go. “Hey, give me a second, I’m going to unlock your door.”

There’s some fumbling and a quiet snick, then Kevin obediently follows you through the door of his apartment. Once inside, you press a thumb to the side of his face, brushing a tear away. “Tell me what Changmin said to make you sad.”

“Changminnie said he’s afraid she’ll… she’ll… slip away between his fingers. Like stardust.” Kevin feels like he’s going to start sobbing any moment now. “He’s afraid she’s going to leave him eventually because she’s too perfect and he’s not good enough.”

“Oh my God.” You sit down on the couch. Kevin follows suit, albeit a lot more ungracefully as he collapses onto a cushion in a tangle of limbs. “Oh my God, that’s so sad and cute at the same time.”

“I said he should call her his star,” Kevin mumbles, turning slightly so he can burrow into your side. “Because stardust. Texted them about it. Both of them.”

Your laugh sounds like music even to the drunken haze of his brain. “Wonder what they’ll think when they see a drunken keysmash on their phones first thing tomorrow morning.”

The two of you sit in silence for a bit. Kevin feels his eyes beginning to get droopy, and he almost falls asleep before a thought strikes him with lightning force.

“I need to give you a nickname!” he almost yells, sitting bolt upright. The movement makes the room spin, but he doesn’t care. This is urgent. “Changmin’s going to call her his star, but I haven’t given you a nickname yet!”

“Kev, Kev.” You hold him by the shoulders, and he relaxes a little. “You can come up with a nickname for me in the morning. Right now, I think you need to sleep.”

“No,” he whines, shifting in your grip. “This is important. You need a nickname.” He sinks into deep, drunken thoughts, the kinds of thoughts he has when he ignores everything around him in favor of getting philosophical after having drunk too much alcohol.

Then it hits him.

“Oh my God,” he gasps. “Oh my God.” It’s his turn to grab you by the shoulders, now. “Oh my God. You’re the sun. Because I’m the moon. Get it? Kevin Moon?”

Through his drunken haze, Kevin thinks he sees you smile, maybe. It looks like a smile.

Your eyes are sparkling. You look happy.

Probably a smile.

“I’m a genius,” he whispers. A genius for coming up with the nickname and for making you happy.

“Sure, Kevin.” You grunt a little as he shifts his weight. “Come on, get up. We’ll see if you’re still a genius tomorrow if you wake up and remember all of this.”

Kevin doesn’t register much for the rest of the night, just remembers falling into his bed and forcing you to lie down next to him. The next morning, he wakes up with a throbbing headache and the vague, ever-present worry that he said something stupid last night.

You’re not in the bed with him anymore. Kevin blinks once, twice, before trying to sit up so to figure out where you went. Then he remembers you don’t live here. You probably went home.

Which is why he nearly goes into cardiac arrest when you appear in his doorway, holding a mug of coffee and a glass of water.

For a moment, the two of you just stare at each other. Kevin’s not sure what thoughts are running through your head, but he knows he’s trying to piece together what happened last night, and whether or not he should be hiding under the covers out of embarrassment.

Then it hits him.

Sun.

Moon.

Genius.

Oh, God.

Kevin wants to die.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says, using your new nickname in the desperate hope that it’ll distract you from remembering the rest of what he said last night.

A catlike smirk curls your lips as you walk over, pressing the glass of water into his hands. A feeling of dread fills Kevin’s heart as he takes it.

“Morning, genius,” you say with enough evil delight to power Changmin for a year.

Kevin groans. “I was drunk.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Your teasing smile melts into something gentler as you place your mug on the bedside table, turning to bring the glass of water in his hands to his lips. “Coffee’s mine, don’t touch it or I’ll break a bone. Drink the water. I made some breakfast, so come into the kitchen whenever you feel up to it. After you’ve brushed your teeth.”

Warmth courses through Kevin’s body, and it has nothing to do with the alcohol from last night and everything to do with how you’re here in body and mind, sweetly helping him recover from a stupid hangover even when it’s definitely not your problem to take care of and you probably have better things to do. His heart thumps, loud enough that he thinks you could probably hear it.

In this moment, Kevin doesn’t think he’s ever been more grateful for anything than you coming into his life.

“Got it.” He awkwardly tries to salute, but he does it with the hand holding the glass and the water nearly spills onto the bed. As his cheeks flush, you break into snorting giggles.

Even though it’s at his expense, Kevin thinks he would do anything, anything in the world, to keep that wonderful smile on your face and that musical laughter in the air.

. . . . .

iv.

Only when you move in together does Kevin realize just how taxing your job is. He had an idea from when you sometimes had to cancel or move around dates, but when you did meet up, you were usually energetic and cheerful. Of course, there were the token dates where you just came over to Kevin’s apartment or he came over to yours and you just flopped around for a few hours. Outside, though, you always showed a bright face.

But that was because dates were mostly on your days off or when your hours were short, and as a result, you felt good enough, energized enough to show Kevin your brilliant smile. When you first moved in together, Kevin felt a bit surprised – well, maybe not surprised, but saddened – that you didn’t have the energy to smile as brightly as he saw before.

It’s fine by Kevin, though. You smile often enough, and if your teeth don’t show as much as they used to, there’s something beautiful, something calming and sweet in the slower curve of your lips, the gentle, lethargic way you lean up for a kiss. After all, Kevin has enough energy to compensate for when you might lack some of yours.

(It helps that he can cook, he thinks. Even when the kids at school sometimes wear him out, the brief sparkle in your eye that spreads across your lips when you walk through the door to see him stirring something on the stove is more than enough to make up for it.)

You’re cute, too, when you’re tired. Though Kevin loves it when you’re energetic and ready for whatever the day has decided to throw in your path, there’s something so peaceful, so pleasant about feeling you lying lethargically against his side on the couch, scrolling through your phone or reading a book or just resting, doing nothing but breathing softly. Kevin cherishes those small moments, the soft atmosphere where he kisses your hair and you smile, reach up, and press a kiss of your own to his cheek.

Tonight is one of those nights, a night of soft, comforting silence, words few and far between. It’s been a bit warm lately, so Kevin’s elected to wear one of the tank tops he keeps for the warmer months instead of his usual sweater.

You sit next to him on the couch, back pressed to his side as you send off emails on your phone. Kevin’s working too, inputting grades on his laptop. He hums a little under his breath to take his mind off of the monotony of his task.

At some point, you finish, putting down your phone with a sigh and slumping into his ribs. Kevin starts at the sudden movement. “Sunshine,” he whines, even though he could really care less.

“Moon boy,” you parrot in the same tone of voice.

Kevin’s attention turns back to his laptop, so he barely registers you shifting on the couch to a new position. He does notice it, though, when your fingers start trailing along his skin, exposed by the lack of sleeves on his tank top, because your touch tickles.

You completely ignore his resulting twitch of surprise, only keep tracing the skin of his rib cage. Kevin looks down, confused as to what’s caught your attention.

Oh. His tattoos.

“Sunshine?” he asks softly, watching your fingers shift along his skin.

“Mm,” you hum, eyes still fixated on the ink decorating his side.

“Sleepy?”

Slowly, you shake your head, fingers paused on the image of Mickey Mouse. “Not yet.”

He goes back to inputting grades, all the while still aware of your fingers tracing the lines, the curls, the swirls of black ink along his side. When he finishes, he looks over before closing his laptop to see your eyes still focused on his skin.

Something in his heart explodes, spreading a tingly, comforting warmth throughout his body. It’s a feeling he’s come to associate with your presence, a feeling of absolute security, absolute trust, absolute warmth that comes with falling in love with you.

You look up, noticing his lack of movement. “Finished, moonbeams?”

“First moon boy, now moonbeams?” Kevin teases you lightly, picking up the hand you were using to trace his skin and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. Just like every other time he’s ever done it, a wide smile spreads across your face and a shyness sparkles in your eyes, as though you still can’t believe the bliss of the moment.

(At least, that’s what Kevin feels every time you do something to remind him that he’s yours.)

Your voice breaks into his thoughts. “Can’t call you moonshine, that’s an alcohol.” You shrug as best as you can in your stretched-out position. “Moonbeams, moon boy… whatever feels right.”

Kevin puts his laptop on the coffee table. As he leans back into the couch, you curl up into him, one hand still lingering against the Mickey Mouse tattoo on his side. “Tell me about these?” you ask, pressing your fingers a bit more firmly against the ink.

His tattoos are personal, serving as reminders of the past and inspiration to keep moving. Rarely does he share their meanings with anyone (not that people usually ask, because the tattoos are mostly covered by his clothes), and only with those who mean the world to him.

Kevin thinks you qualify as one of them.

Touching your shoulders, he turns you around slightly, just enough to press a short, sweet kiss to the top of your head. “Of course, sunshine.” He smiles, gazing into your eyes, feeling the warmth of your love travel through his limbs. “Which one first?”

. . . . .

Kevin Moon, for the majority of his life, has hovered in between being classified as a morning person or a night owl. Yes, he gets up at six in the morning for a cup of coffee, but he also stays up past midnight doing… stuff. Grading, writing reports, watching cat videos, wasting time.

(When Changmin judges his lifestyle, Kevin just reminds him that he fell in love with his roommate’s hookup and is on a dance team with the parent of one of his students.)

Honestly, if Kevin didn’t remind himself every so often that he’s currently a full adult, his lifestyle would make him think he was still in college. He certainly still acts like it when he isn’t working. Procrastinating? Check. Crying over reports he needs to submit at three a.m.? Check. Flopping around on the floor when life is going badly? Check.

And most importantly: nonexistent sleep schedule? Check.

You put a stop to that real quick when you move in, both directly and indirectly. Directly, you make an appointment for him at a sleep clinic after figuring out his shitty sleep patterns, and Kevin finds out he probably has mild insomnia. The aftermath is horrible – you put him on a strict sleep schedule and all but ban caffeine from his diet (goodbye, morning coffee) – but it helps, after a couple of weeks. He sleeps better. Perks of having a partner who works in medicine.

Indirectly, though, you probably make a bigger difference.

See, the way Kevin thinks about it, he just never had a lot of reasons to stay in bed very long. Even though he appreciates sleep, really appreciates it on long days, it’s just that he can’t really force it if it doesn’t want to come. He’d also rather be doing something productive (or not productive, depends on the asker’s perspective) than lying awake for hours, anyway.

But now that he’s waking up to a face he loves?

Well, even if you sometimes disappear before he wakes (hospital hours are whack as hell, but sadly, you can’t ignore your job), Kevin will just say your warmth is a powerful incentive to stay huddled under the covers, even if he can’t fall back asleep.

He still wakes up every morning to grey light beginning to peek through the window. No matter how hard he tries to sleep in just a little longer, his body can’t seem to stay unconscious past six in the morning, so both of you have just resigned yourselves to the fact that Kevin will always be an early riser.

Before you walked into his life, he would’ve rolled out of bed almost immediately, stumbled to the bathroom (and maybe knocked his knee against the doorframe, who knows), then started brewing coffee in the kitchen to start the day.

Now?

A drowsy smile begins to make its way across Kevin’s face, soft as the morning light, when his brain catches up to the present and he registers your warmth under the covers. Sleepily, he blinks, taking in the sight of your peaceful face buried halfway in the sheets.

You shouldn’t look this beautiful, Kevin thinks, not with your hair strewn all over the pillow, blankets rumpled around your shoulders, arms outstretched so that one sort of curls over his body while the other is held up to your chest. It’s the morning – no one should look pretty and put-together. That isn’t natural.

(Unless you happy to be Kim Younghoon, but that’s another story.)

Yet you somehow look like a sleeping deity in Kevin’s mind, even with your hair a mess and drool drying on the pillowcase. As the drowsiness clears from his eyes, as the light from the window grows brighter, Kevin can barely even think of moving, of disturbing your peace.

He dislikes your alarm. It’s loud, annoying, and hits him with a jolt when he’s just trying to take these stolen morning moments to admire your beauty. When he complains about it the first time, you tell him to serve as the alarm, to wake you up himself.

Kevin counters that he’s an artist, that he needs peace and quiet to give beauty of such a degree the respect it deserves. You just roll your eyes, telling him that if he isn’t going to wake you up, the alarm’s going to have to take that job. The smile on your face, though, and the brief kiss you press to his lips right after, speaks volumes for the emotions Kevin’s words make you feel.

(He loves flustering you like this, even if you pretend his words don’t make you feel some sort of way.)

So eventually, you wake, eyes fluttering as the alarm brings you back to the conscious plane. Kevin’s heart feels like it’s bursting when your eyes fully open, blearily blinking at the world.

“Morning, sunshine,” he whispers, running one hand through your hair.

You lean slightly into the touch, the corners of your lips twitching up. And every day, as he stares into your sleepy eyes, lips curling as you whisper a quiet “Morning, moon boy” in reply, Kevin knows he’s falling, falling in love with every part of you.

. . . . .

+i.

Kevin’s waiting in front of the school when you pull up at the curb. Smiling apologetically, he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek as you step out of the car. “Sorry, sunshine.” He gestures at the two small boys standing beside him, absorbed in their own world. “Their uncle’s running late and Changmin and Jacob have things to do, so I need to wait for Sangyeon to pick them up before we can go.”

“No worries.” You return the kiss, smiling as bright as the sun. Kevin feels a flash of pride for coming up with a nickname that fits you so well. “We have the whole afternoon, don’t we?”

“That, we do.” He grins, squeezing your hand.

“Mr. Moon, who’s that?” a small voice asks closer to the ground. The two of you turn to see Sunwoo and Eric trotting over, curious looks on their faces.

Kevin looks over at you, but you’re already bending down to get to eye level with the two boys. “Oh, hello!” Your grin, if possible, grows wider. “I’m Y/N, Kevin’s significant other. What are your names?”

“I’m Eric,” Eric pipes up. “This is my brother, Sunwoo.”

Sunwoo just stares with round eyes. Well, he’s always been the shyer of the two.

“Those are lovely names,” you reply smoothly, giving Sunwoo an encouraging smile. Kevin feels his heart melt completely at how well you interact with the kids. “I’m just going to be waiting with Kevin until your uncle picks you up, is that okay?”

The two kids nod and immediately go back to babbling in their own little world. Kevin notices the fond smile on your face, and his heart melts even more.

“They’re so cute,” you whisper to him.

“I know, right?” Kevin clutches his heart dramatically. “Can you imagine teaching them every day?”

Just as you’re shaking your head in comic disbelief, another car pulls up behind yours. A harried-looking young man quickly exits and Eric and Sunwoo cheer, distracted by the arrival of their uncle.

“Sorry about this,” Sangyeon says, absentmindedly patting Eric’s head as the boy hugs his leg. Sunwoo seems to be attempting to climb onto his uncle’s back. “Traffic wasn’t the kindest when I was getting out of work.” Then he notices you. “Oh, hello. Are you Kevin’s partner?”

“That I am.” You stick out a hand. “I’m Y/N, and I’ve been told you’re Sangyeon?”

Sangyeon nods, smiling. “Nice to meet you. And to see that Kevin’s found someone to deal with his antics.”

Kevin blushes as you laugh. “Hey,” he complains. “No jokes at my expense, please.”

“Sure, moonbeams.” You roll your eyes, then turn back to Sangyeon. “It’s nice to meet you. Your nephews are adorable.”

The smile that Sangyeon gives the two boys clambering around him says it all. “They are, aren’t they?” He checks his watch. “I’m sorry, I have to go now. My sister’s expecting us back soon, and I’m already a bit late.”

Kevin breathes a sigh of relief. No more teasing at his expense from Sangyeon, at least, though there’s no guarantee from you. “Nice seeing you, Sangyeon. And have a good day, kids.”

A small chorus of “You too, Mr. Moon!” sounds, and Kevin expects that to be the end. Sangyeon will herd the boys into the car, Kevin will follow you into yours, and then you’ll go your separate ways. What he doesn’t expect is for Sunwoo to look out at you from behind his uncle’s leg, round eyes cautiously curious, and ask you a question.

“Y/N?”

Immediately, you turn around, teasing smirk melting into a gentle smile for the small boy. “Yes, Sunwoo?”

Sunwoo’s eyes dart between you and Kevin. Then, softly, shyly – “Do you love Mr. Moon?”

Time seems to stop as Kevin’s breath hitches in his throat at the sudden question, but you only look back at him, eyes soft and sparkling in the sunlight.

Your answer glitters in your gaze.

Though you’re supposed to be talking to Sunwoo, your eyes stay fixed on Kevin, strong and unyielding, yet gentle and affectionate, as you answer. Your voice is soft when you reply. “Yes, Sunwoo. I do love him.” The smile on your face grows wider as you turn back to the child. “I love him very much.”

Indescribable warmth floods Kevin’s chest and tears prick his eyes. And as Sangyeon hurries his nephews away, as you turn around to unlock your car, one truth burns with absolute, crystal-clear certainty in his mind.

He isn’t falling in love with you, not anymore. No, he’s far past that stage.

Kevin Moon is completely, wholly, irrevocably in love with you.

“Kevin?” You look at him from the other side of the car. “You coming?”

A wide grin spreads across his face as he meets your sparkling eyes. Love blooms in his chest.

“Coming, sunshine.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for kevin’s whipped ass ksjdkgsdhjk)

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quietmyfearswith · 4 years ago

Text

thorned flowers ; andy barber x fem!reader

status — completed oneshot

word count —8,528 words

summary — in which andy barber mourns the loss of his family, until he finds another reason to be hopeful for the future.

warnings —SMUT, DARK THEMES, stalking, drugging (like putting some fertility things in their food and drink, oral (female receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, andy being sad, SOFT!DARK!ANDY, dubious pregnancy/breeding

pairing — soft!dark!andy barber x fem!florist!reader

a/n — DNI IF YOU ARE UNDER 18!,, this is my entry for @imanuglywombat‘s “is that even a sex position” challenge. and the certain position was the special breakfast(you can find it liked in the smut part)... anyway here is the second oneshot for my folklore series! next is either a oneshot for the same series or a preference... feedback is appreciated!

tagging — @la-cey @pedropcl @iloveshawnieboi

masterlist | series masterlist | join my taglist (please follow the rules)

As Andy drove closer and closer to the graveyard, he felt the sweat from his hands drop onto the steering wheel — making it even more difficult for him to grip onto the leather. The last time he visited Jacob was when they buried him a few months ago; the pain was too much for him to bear, making it difficult for him to go and visit his deceased son — the son he loved, cared for, and protected. The son whom he once had precious memories with was now gone.

It wasn’t that he had fully grieved his loss, but he was getting there. But he didn’t just lose his son in that fateful accident that happened nine months ago, he had lost — or more accurately, divorced — Laurie when she confessed that she still had doubts about Jacob’s innocence and crashed the car for she couldn’t believe the monster her son had become. Every ounce of self-control was used by Andy the moment he got the chance to speak with his ex-wife in the middle of her hearing; every curse word he knew was thrown at her for her brutal actions that led to his untimely death.

Now as he faces the aftermath of every single thing that has transpired over the past months, he couldn’t help but feel empty. Happiness was something he longed for; he once had it all, but a series of events reversed that situation quickly. He would do anything to once again look forward to going home, knowing that he had a loving wife and joyful child; instead of coming home to his house filled with silence and agony for it serves as a reminder of what he once had.

Well, maybe not what he had — it wasn’t perfect and the ideal picture he always dreamt way back then. A fresh start, he thought silently, a new start with someone who can fulfill my dreams.

Parking in parallel, Andy looked to see if there were oncoming cars before going down to enter the flower shop. The soft bell that hung above let out a small chime as he opened the door, his blue eyes scanning the different floral arrangements that were littered across the store. Roses, lilis, orchids, sunflowers — all of them looked and smelt lovely. It made him smile how pleasing to the eyes every bouquet was, making it difficult for him to choose what to get.

“Hi! How can I help you?” A voice spoke up which made Andy turn his attention to the girl wearing overalls who just came from the back room. Once he quickly took in her appearance, though her face sweat a bit and her overalls had patches of greens thanks to the plants, he thought she looked adorable and cleared his throat, “I was hoping to buy some flowers.”

Smiling widely, she wiped her forehead with a towel draped on her shoulder as she said, “I’m happy to help,” She stood by the shelves as she pointed through some flowers, “These have just been arranged today. Oh! And these lilacs and peonies just came in today, too.” Andy couldn’t help but chuckle softly upon seeing how cute her excited state was. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s the occasion or for whom these flowers are? Just so I could suggest a few things to you,” She turned to him after listing some of the fresh flowers she had.

“It’s for my son, I’m visiting his grave today.” Y/N wanted to smack herself; her shop was located less than ten miles away from the nearest graveyard. His gloomy, silent aura should have been a clue on how he was mourning, she thought. “I’m so sorry to hear that, sir. How an arrangement of lilies and roses?”

Following her as she walked towards the opposite side of the store where a shelf containing an arrangement of lilies and roses were displayed. With a nod, Andy confirmed, “I’ll take that please.” Grabbing the vase, she excused herself to move onto the counter. Placing it on the wooden surface, she went to get a watering can to place some more water for the flowers. Wanting to talk with her more, he decided to initiate a conversation, “Slow day?”

Peering her eyes up as she returned the can, she nodded her head a bit, “We’ve had customers, but there’s no rush, you know?” Mindlessly, he bobbed his head up and down as she continued, “Some are for their wives, some for their mistresses — but don’t tell!” She placed her index finger on her lips to make her point and the lawyer couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore and shook his head at her goofiness.

“And you’re the first to buy then go to the cemetery, usually they don’t come this time of the day,” She gasped upon realizing what she said; as she punched in his total she didn’t have time to analyze what she said, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry about that, sir!”

Eyes widening at her apology, Andy wondered why she was saying sorry for, “What for?” Looking down as she played with the denim material of her outfit she muttered shyly, “Well you know, I didn’t mean to bring you up. Or the whole cemetery thing.”

Catching her drift, he nodded and genuinely smiled as he reassured her that he took no offense, “It’s alright, you didn't mean harm with it, yeah?” She nodded as she changed their topic before she could embarrass herself any further, “Your total comes to $26.25; how would you like to pay?”

“Credit,” He curtly replied as he took out his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans; as he was inserting the PIN, he found himself wondering why she suddenly meant all business. Staring at her focused expression which included her lips slightly pursued gave him a faint clue that perhaps she didn't want to embarrass herself any further.

“Here’s your receipt,” She slid the paper across the counter; as she placed her hands on the glass jar to move it closer towards the customer, Andy placed his on top of hers as he too made a move to grab the vase. Surprised with the warmth and spark she felt when their skins grazed against each other, the florist shyly smiled as she moved her hands away from the vase, “Thank you for visiting us, sir.”

“Andy,” He introduced himself as he carried the vase with one arm as the other extended to her direction, offering to shake hands, “And your name is?” She shook her hand as she gave him her name — the lawyer repeating it as he liked how it rolled off his tongue. Disentangling their hands, Y/N fiddled with her hands nervously as the attractive man waved at her one final time as he left the store, not before promising, “Gonna see you real soon, petal.”

Placing the floral arrangement on the front passenger side, Andy couldn’t help but feel giddy with himself as he jogged to the driver’s seat. “Y/N,” He repeated to himself as he began the drive to the cemetery. In their short, yet sweet interaction, he couldn’t help but feel lighter upon meeting her. Could this mean something? He wondered as to why he was feeling this way with her.

Once he found a decent parking spot, he went out of his car with the flowers and walked to where Jake rested. “Hey buddy, how you doing?” Placing the flowers by the stone where his name was engraved, he sat by the grass as Andy looked up in the sky. “I’ve been doing good, I think. Work keeps me busy and I’ve been doing some outdoor exercise as an excuse to get out of the house.”

Picking at the grass as he recalls what has happened the last nine months, “And I think your middle school named something after you. Though I wasn’t paying too close attention to know what it actually was — sorry about that, buddy. But your friend Sarah, she asked for some of your things and clothes. Think she has, or had, a crush on you,” Exhaling deeply as he paused, the lawyer couldn’t help but mourn about the endless possibilities and chances his son would have had if it wasn’t for her.

“Anyway, Laurie has been sending some letters. I don’t if I should read them — part of me wants too, I still want to know if she’s doing well. But there’s this part of me that wants nothing to do with her, because of what she’s done to you, us, and because of what she failed to do,” Hooking his chin on the palm of his hand as he could feel the slight sharpness of his elbow against his thigh, he contemplated a bit, “What do you think I should do, Jake?”

Grass slanted towards the east as sharp gusts of winds prickled Andy’s skin which made him smirk slightly as he looked at the name of his son, “I take that as I need to be the bigger person and reach out to your mother?” When the grass was left unmoving, it was seen as a confirmation that his son did want him to reconnect with her. Nodding to himself, he guaranteed he would do so, “Okay then, Jake. I’ll do so.”

A softer wind brushed and swayed the flowers he bought, making it look even more graceful than it already was — which reminded Andy of the woman he met earlier. “And I met someone earlier, on the way here, actually.” His lips formed into a smile as he thought of how charming and sweet she was as he was being accommodated ; he wondered something out loud, “Do you think I should do uh, what term did you use? Shot your shoot? No, it’s shoot your shot, right?” He scratched the back of his neck as he racked his brain remembering how he’d be teased for finding it difficult to familiarize himself with this decade’s lingo, “Anyway, she just seems so kind and welcoming; and there’s something about her that makes me feel like I could have a second chance at happiness.”

Should his headspace not have been in a remorseful one, he would have found it frightening how it seemed the wind only moved the arrangement of lilies and roses in an almost ludicrous fashion. Whether it was a sign his child had sent him or something his mind was making up, he interpreted it as a sign he should go for it. “Guess I will shoot my shot, Jake.”

Kneeling by the slab of marble, his thumb was rubbing against his son’s full name as Andy sadly smiled, “I love you, buddy. See you soon.” Standing up, he walked away and to his car feeling lighter. Being able to go to his son was progress for the lawyer as he was slowly coming to terms with the events that happened. Reaching out to Laurie was also another way of him acknowledging the past and coming to terms with — and it would probably give him the closure he needed as he ventured on to the future.

The future, he thought, seemed to be brighter right now. And the sole reason why he thought that way was because of someone he had just met. Normally he would be rolling his eyes at the thought of love at first sight; but now things are different since he’s a changed man. Hastily exiting his parked car, he entered through the back door where he discarded his shoes and socks by the doorway. Flipping his laptop open, he opened his browser and searched for the name of the flower shop he visited.

This was far from the usual search engines — like Google or Ecosia — for this allowed him to know every single thing there is to know about what he searched. Usually, he would use this solely for work; and this was the first time he ever used it for his own selfish reason. Not only the reviews, location, and services offered by the flower shop appeared on the screen after a few minutes. The business and clearance permits were shown; but so did the owner's name appear. “Y/F/N,” He read out loud as he highlighted her name and searched again.

Social media accounts, educational background, cell phone number, and her address shown up in an instant. A smile settled on his lips as he took in everything there was to learn about her. Part of him was glad that she didn’t post too much of herself online for he couldn’t see how pretty she was — but he considered it a good thing for it wouldn't attract anymore competition or creeps. Flowers filled her feed and by reading through each and every one of her posts, relief washed over him upon knowing that these were flowers she arranged and were not gifts to her by a beau.

Peeking at her phone records, he noticed how there had been only a few register of incoming and outgoing calls — the fact that her most called number was of a restaurant that delivers had been slightly concerning for him — and digging into her text history, there was no hints that she was in a relationship. As he searched for her address online, it was brought to his attention how she lived not too far from where he was residing, in just twenty minutes he could be over with her. As he closed his laptop it was clear to Andy how perfect Y/N was for him — and that she would be the perfect woman for him to build a family with.

Going to the living room, he grabbed for the letters sent by Laurie. There were a total of four, and until now he hasn’t opened a single one. After reading them he was relieved to find out that she was doing well and that she wasn’t being mistreated by anyone over there. She also has repeatedly apologized for what she has done. Fear and uncertainty were just some of the two overwhelming emotions that affected her decision-making. Sentiments of how she misses their son and long for how they once were.

Grabbing a pen and paper, Andy then wrote his own letter in response;

Laurie,

I apologize for taking too long to reach out to you — it took me a while to come to terms with everything that happened. What you did came as a shock to me. I never knew about how still had your apprehensions about Jacob. I wish you would have talked to me about it, or even to him. Perhaps by doing so things would have been resolved better.

I won’t lie to you so I will just tell you that I believe it was harsh of you to end Jacob’s life like that. He had so much waiting for him — so much potential and fire within him, and to see it all disappear breaks my heart. After his trial ended, I thought of it as a chance for all of us to have a clean slate — granted it didn’t feel like it — and have the chance to redeem ourselves and build another life for all of us. But I didn’t imagine for it to be this way — us divorced while you’re in jail and our son buried six feet under.

Nevertheless, I won’t dwell on what has been. I will focus on the future. Speaking of, I would like to apologize as well for shoving the divorce papers in you. It might seem like a “heat of the moment” decision; but I think we both saw it coming. Having our marriage and relationship built on a lie, it all would have led to this moment — one way or another. It was neglectful of me to lay it on you when you already had your plate full, but I guess there was just really no perfect timing for it either, no?

The frequency of my letters to you might vary, but rest assured I will write to you as much as I can. I hope that you will find peace and safety despite your current situation. I wouldn’t fully say that I have forgiven you for what you did, but I am on the path of reaching that point.

Take care always, Andy

As he folded up the piece of paper and slid it on an envelope, Andy felt lighter. Somehow there this part of him knew how shitty the content was. But that was what he felt. What he wanted to tell Laurie. Sealing the envelope, he then pasted a stamp on it then stood up to place the letter on his coat jacket; that way he won’t forget to drop it off.

Returning to his work desk, he then looked over the information he had collected. Another thing that the letter made him feel was that he has already made closure with his past; and now he can venture on and look forward to the future. And he sees one with Y/N.

Having worked at a flower shop for almost five years, Y/N almost memorized the frequent visitors of the cemetery. She always engaged in polite conversations with them. Another thing is that she noticed a pattern as well. If one visits every week, it was a sign that they have yet to come to terms with the loss of their loved one. Once their visits became less frequent, say with two weeks in between, she took it as a sign that, slowly but surely, they were getting over their grief and sadness. And when the gaps between their visits stretched over a month or so, it showed that they had reached the final stage of grief — acceptance.

That’s why as much as she enjoyed her small talk with the customers — which ranged from their daily activity to workplace gossip — she felt fulfilled for them once their visit became less and less frequent than their initial ones. Besides, there were always new friends that she could make along the way. It just so happens that Andy happens to be one of her potential friends. Having never seen him before and their brief conversation, led her to believe that the death of his son was fairly recent.

“Hey, Y/N,” His warm, deep voice rang through her shop. Fortunately, she was in the front checking the sales so far when he entered. It was exactly seven days after he dropped by her shop on his way to the cemetery — and then her hunch was somewhat confirmed. “Hi, Andy. how are you?”

He carried with him a tray with a couple of drinks — one was his preference for coffee while the other was her favorite kind of drink to start off her day. Placing it on the counter he smiled at her, “Busy day?” Placing down the clipboard she was holding she rested both her hands on the counter, “It was, yeah. Wedding bouquets, centerpieces for events, any occasion you can possibly think of suddenly needed flowers. Not that I’m complaining! But I'm just thankful I’m gonna be having a break in a few.”

Laughing at her dilemma he then casually brought up, “Well I was in the coffee shop earlier and they gave me a spare drink,” Pushing the cup of her favorite drink to her, he offered it to her, “Do you want it?” Not wanting to seem ungrateful, she brought the cup to her nose, she smelt it and was surprised to find out it smelt like her favored drink. Taking a sip a bit, she smiled after she placed it down, “Thank you so much for it, Andy!”

Hiding a smirk, he simply nodded at her as he took a sip out of his own drink too, “I have two orders of flowers for today. White carnations on a small vase, and yellow orchids on one of those small boxes,” He pointed behind her, where mounted on the wall were some packaging ideas for the flowers. Nodding her head, she pushed the hot beverage aside as she got to work.

A slow, melodious song played in the background; and the lawyer just found it even more adorable with how she hummed along to it. While working on his purchases, she shifted her gaze to look at him. However, she quickly turned away due to the intensity of his stare — no one had ever looked at her with so much interest. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” She cleared her throat, as she tried to diffuse the tension. With every move she made while cutting the orchids to fit the wooden box, she could feel his eyes trailing her in an instant, “It certainly is.” Her eyes were focused on trimming up the stems of the carnation, so she missed the way he was looking at her and not on the flowers.

Placing the trimmed up carnations on the vase, she then grabbed for the watering can to fill them up a bit with water. “Here you go, Andy,” She shyly declared as she was done with the yellow orchids and white carnations. Heading over to the cash register to punch in the items, he spoke, “Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?”

Shaking her head no, “That’ll be $45.17,” She turned the card machine towards him, “No plans tonight. Just gonna be staying in. How about you?” After entering the card details he was asked for, he slid his card on his back pocket as he joked, “Well I’m gonna try and stay in with you then.”

Hearing her giggle made him wonder if she realized how serious he was. He truly wanted to be a part of her life; and she didn’t even know the effect she had on him. Handing him the receipt, Y/N watched closely how Andy only grabbed for the white carnations, “Andy? Are you forgetting these?”

As she held the yellow orchids, he shook his head and smiled warmly, “They’re for you. I’ve read somewhere that they represent friendship.” Taken aback with what he said, she nodded her head and confirmed, “They do, yeah.” A hand then reached over as it caressed her cheek before settling it under her chin, lifting her head a bit to stare at his passionate eyes, “And I hope that this is a start of a beautiful one.”

His thumb tapped her jaw softly before letting go and walking out of the store; it was only then that Y/N managed to let out a breath she didn’t realize was being bottled up inside her. Holding the box with one hand as the other patted the flower’s petal, she spoke to herself, “I really hope that it is the start of one.”

“I’m going out with Y/N tonight, Jake,” Andy told his son as he sat on the grass after placing the wonderful arrangement she made near his name. “Well, it’s not really a date. She wrote down on her schedule app that she’ll go to the grocery store today during her break. So I’ll just casually bump into her there.” It was incredible that with today’s technology he was able to even see what was in her phone. Using it to his advantage, he tried to pattern most of his schedule with hers; and so far this was the first one that lined up.

As his legs crossed, his hands were rubbing against his shin while recalling what the past week looked like for him, “I also finally wrote back to Laurie. The letter I wrote might have been shitty but it’s still been a struggle for me to put into words what I feel.”

Like the last time, a cool breeze of wind prickled his skin even as he wore a gray henley, “You’re right. It was harsh. But I’m hoping that as time goes on, I’ll be more of a friend to her.” He once again found himself staring at the flowers and smiled, “I’m gonna be honest and tell you that I was planning to divorce her either way. It just wasn’t working out anymore, bud.”

Memories of their fights that happened in the garage so Jacob wouldn’t have to see them yelling at each other flashed through his mind. “And somehow I can’t help but think that maybe Y/N would have been the perfect stepmother for you. She’s really nice and sweet. Based on what she listens to, I feel like you two would have gotten along well.” Once again his heart aches at the thought of how his son had his future right in front of him, and yet it was all snatched away from him.

Kneeling down, his fingertips brushed against Jacob’s name, “Anyway, gonna let you know how’d the date go next week. I love you, buddy.” Walking to his car, he felt giddy at the thought of going to the grocery store. He never imagined doing something so mundane would make him feel this way.

Noticing that the Oreos had a two for one deal, she didn’t hesitate to grab two packs. Pushing the grocery cart down, she was proud of herself for not getting every snack she craved for. Stay on budget, she reminded herself mentally, you’re saving for that new laptop, remember? And that explained why she’d always buy what was on sale; brand loyalty be damned!

Checking her list, she now had toiletries, vegetables, a small selection of fruits, meat and fish, as well as her snacks and drinks. She even managed to buy rice that was on sale. As her eyes scanned for pasta, she let out a small huff how the last one was at the very top, pushed at the back. Standing on her tippy toes, she tried to reach for it — but as her nails scratched the container, it only pushed the item further away.

Feeling a warm body press against hers as they reached for the box, she turned around and was shocked to see it was Andy, “Here you go.” Grabbing the item from him, she smiled at him after placing it on her cart. “Thanks, Andy. would have ended up climbing my cart just to reach it.”

That’s dangerous! Can’t have you risking your body when it’s soon to be carrying our child, He scolded her in his mind. But what he really told her was, “Well we can’t have that happening; some are gonna think that you’re a die hard pasta lover.” They both laughed at what he said as they both walked. She noticed how he only had a basket with him that was filled with a few personal hygiene products and a reusable bag.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you shop here before,” She’s shopped at this market in different times and days, and not once has she seen his face before. Already having prepared an answer, he smiled, “Well this is further from my home. But it was on the way back, since I did just come from the cemetery.”

Shaking her head as she cursed herself, she turned to him to express regret, “I’m sorry for that. It seems like I always unknowingly bring that up.” Bopping her nose with his finger he reassured her, “Like you said, unknowingly. You didn’t know that it would somehow lead to that — so don’t sweat yourself about it.”

Bashfully, she just kept her head down as she lined up for the cashier. Andy didn’t follow her directly as he opted for the self-service check out. Still, after he was done paying he waited for her at the end of the lane. When he noticed that she struggled to carry her items, she took two of her bags — leaving her to carry only one.

“Andy! Let me get it, there’s no need for you to do that,” She tried grabbing for her bags as they walked out of the market. Bringing the bags to his side so she wouldn’t reach it, he stuck his tongue out, playfully, “No way! Plus these are too heavy for you. So allow me to be a good citizen and carry it for you okay?”

Deciding that it wasn’t worth her time and energy to fight him, she just nodded and began to silently lead him to her car — but what she didn’t realize was that not only did the lawyer know what kind of car she had, but also where she had parked it. “You know it feels like I’m taking advantage of you.”

What she said had him interested as they both neared her vehicle, “And why is that?” Opening the trunk of her car, she placed the bag she carried before reaching over to him and grabbing the ones he brought, “Well you buy flowers from me — and this morning you even gave me one — and then you carry my things like you’re my servant.”

Oh if you only knew, love, he thought to himself. But he smirked at her as he closed the trunk before placing his own bag then resting his elbow on the car, “Well how about a repayment then?”

“Done! Your next order, or orders, of flowers are on me.” Her quick response had Andy laughing, “I didn’t mean for it that way, petal.” The nickname he used had her stuttering for a bit as her brain felt like it was being transformed into a melted mess. “What’d you mean then?”

“How about we text? You know, we exchange numbers and just get to know each other a little better,” For some reason Andy felt nervous as he proposed the idea. Insecurity lingered on his head as he tried to gently weasel his way in. But it brought him comfort when she smiled and nodded, “I’d love that, Andy!” While she grabbed for her phone that was in the pocket of her leggings.

He already had her number registered in his phone, it was only for formality’s sake that he put in his number on her cellular device so as not to raise any suspicion. “I look forward to chatting with you,” She giggled at the term he used, causing him to raise an eyebrow at her. “I just found it silly how you said chatting. It’s silly, really.”

Placing a hand on his chest as he pretended to be offended, he defended himself, “I may not use today’s terms but I sure am a great person to have a conversation with.” Chuckling, she just bopped his nose before heading to the driver’s seat, “Only one way to find out, yeah?”

Nodding, he winked at her before grabbing his bag and heading on over to his car, “Only one way. See you soon, Y/N. Take care on your drive.” As she entered her car, she unlocked her phone and sent out a text to Andy:

take care as well, Andy! thank you once again for helping me out :D ‘til next time!

Placing her phone on the seat beside her, she turned on the engine and was preparing to leave when she heard her phone chime. Surprised with how quickly responded, she then decided to read the message now:

Can’t imagine this will be the last time I’ll be helping you out. (I’m kidding of course! Unless…)

Shaking her head at his goofiness, she began her journey back to the shop where she decided it would be best to not reply to him right away. They’ve only interacted twice but she couldn’t help but find him attractive. He had this charm in him and the way he carried himself was amazing. It also helped that he was pleasing to the eye and quick-witted. Perhaps this could be more than just a friendship; but Andy had already had an entire plan hatched out in order for that to happen.

Andy was having a bad week. He wanted to have gone to visit Y/N on Wednesday since those were the days of when he had previously visited her. Granted, they have been texting throughout the previous week, it still doesn’t compare to seeing her actual face and getting the chance to touch her skin. But having been swamped with work since he was assigned to a massive, imperative case; and now that it was almost being resolved, he thought to unwind and relax. And what better way to do so than spending time with his best girl?

The moment he stepped foot in her floral shop, his sweet, positive attitude he had quickly turned out to be a sour one. “Andy, hi!” Her excited voice made him put on a fake smile, stopping his earlier activity which was piercing daggers through the back of the man’s head she was earlier talking to. Cautiously, he stepped forward to stand behind the till as the man stood off to the side as he held out his hand, “Hey, man. I’m Scott Lang!”

“Scott here just delivered the flowers,” She pointed to the crates of flowers that she has yet to unpack. “Oh? And he’s still here because?” Despite being serious, the two took it as a joke and just laughed it off. Scott even hit his palm against Andy’s muscular bicep as he threw his head back laughing, “Well I was just catching up with Y/N, it’s been awhile since I got assigned to her little shop. And i’ve got a few more deliveries to make, so I’m gonna go ahead.” The relief that the lawyer had when Scott waved goodbye was short lived for he heard him call out to Y/N, “I’ll see you on game night, okay?”

It even pained him when she nodded her head while she placed her elbow on the crate on the counter, “So, Andy, what can I get for you?”

“White chrysanthemums on that white box, please,” Patting down his pants, he shook his head and scowled, “Shoot, I forgot my wallet in the car. Hold on, I’ll be right back.” He didn’t even wait for her reply as he was quickly heading out the door. Looking to his right, he noticed Scott’s delivery trunk and how he was reading something off a tablet as he stood with his back leaned against the door to the driver’s seat.

Scott was taken aback with the sudden force on his shoulders, prompting him to look up from the tablet and on the face of the man he just met, “Andy? What?” The bearded man had his hands pressing onto his shoulders, shoving the delivery man even more into the car’s material, “Stay away from, Y/N.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Leave it to Scott to find the current situation he was in hilarious as he chuckled out his response. Andy, however, didn’t find humor in the situation; the intense gaze his eyes trapped Scott in partnered with the firm grip he had on his shoulders made it clear how serious he was. “You heard me,” He spoke after gulping down the tension he was bottling up, “Stay away from Y/N; she’s mine.”

Breaking into a heartfelt smile, Scott cooed, “Did she tell you about her crush on you? Are you finally together? She has been gushing to me and Hope about how nice and handsome you were being.” At his statement, the lawyer released his solid grip on the man; confused at what he said he questioned, “She said that? Who’s Hope?”

Chuckling at his confused state, Scott playfully hit his arm, “Hope’s my wife! She and Y/N are close friends you know? And my daughter, Cassie, absolutely adores Y/N. We try to have her over as often for game night. We’ve only seen her once in the past few weeks, and she talked our ears off about how great you are!”

Andy could feel himself getting all shy and warm with how his girl was crushing on her; Scott shook his own head as recollection of how dreamy his florist friend was at the thought of this man. And to think he was being the same right now! The expression he had on his face also gave him a clue that two weren;t officially an item yet. With a final nod, he hopped into his van, “Next time I see the two of you, you better be a couple already! ‘M sick of this pining and puppy dog looks of love!”

Laughing out, Andy shook his head as he waved off to Scott who was already driving away. To think that I saw him as a threat, he scolded himself as he began walking back to her shop, when all this time he was a big help.

“Hey! You found your wallet?” She inquired upon seeing his smiling face walking right back in her shop; she thought that he looked even more handsome in that state — there was something about him sporting a boyish look despite looking dignified made her undergarments wet. Nodding, he moved to the counter and admired the arrangement she had made, “Wow! These look wonderful, Y/N. How much do I owe you?”

“Just $19.35. So, you finally got a break from your big case huh?” Tapping his credit card on her machine, he nodded as he let out an exaggerated sigh to which she giggled at, “Finally! I think my back’s starting to ache from all those long hours of sitting down!”

Pushing the floral arrangement to him, she decided to tease him, “You sure it’s not your old age catching up to you?” With wide eyes, he feigned offense as he gasped out loud, “I’ll have you know I am extremely handsome and even look young for someone my age!”

“Don’t I know it,” She mumbled lowly, but still wasn’t soft enough for the lawyer to miss. So he asked her with a smirk etched on his face, “What was that, petal?”

Like a deer caught off guard by headlights, she shook her head, “Nothing! I didn’t say no thing.”

“Well that’s a double negative; so it definitely means you said something,” Both his hands grabbed for one of her hands from across the counter as he held it delicately, “What kind of tree can you fit in your hand?”

Unsure where this was going, she asked, “What? What kind?” Bringing her hand up, he placed a gentle kiss on her palm before answering, “A palm tree, of course!”

Snatching her hand from his grip as he said his joke, she laughed as she teasingly chastised him, “You and your dad jokes, Andy! I swear to God!” Loving how flustered she was, he decided to tease her even more, “Does that mean you’ll call me daddy?”

By now she was a stuttering mess, “Ha, very original, Andy.” Bopping her nose, he bid her adieu as he carried out the arrangement out of her store — walking away with a wide smile on his face. Now feeling more relaxed than ever.

Giddily, he placed the flowers by the top right end of Jacob’s grave as he sat down and told his son, “You’ll never believe what I found out today, Jake!”

Are you busy tonight?

Andy bit his lip in anticipation as he stared at his phone, waiting for a reply. Considering how it was just 3 in the afternoon, he gave her the benefit of the doubt that she was busy with the flower shop — maybe counting her inventory or checking her sales. His blue eyes lit up when she replied:

well depends on who’s asking :P but after work i have no plans…

Perfect, Andy thought. He had enough of waiting and he’d like to think that his plan was working out well. They’ve been texting each other consistently for the past two weeks and whatever she hasn’t told him yet, he already knew thanks to his research. She also began to open up to him and so has he. The more he got to know her, the more he was assured that she was the right person for him to begin a new chapter of his life with.

Would you want to come over for dinner then?

Y/N’s breath hitched as she read his text; she was in the middle of watering her flowers when that invite dropped onto her like a ton of bricks. Over the past few days that they’ve gone talking, she felt herself getting more and more attached to the older man. In her mind she had doubts about if this was just a simple dinner or a proposal for a date — so she voiced out her uncertainty:

i will if you answer my question… is this a date? or just like a simple dinner??

Andy had to laugh at her question — she must have been confused and understandably so. So he decided to smooth things out:

If you’re fine with it, it’s a date. But if you’re not, it can be just a friendly dinner.. No pressure on anything, petal.

Squealing as she twirled around, Y/N had to compose herself before sending out a text:

well looks like we’ll be having a date later, andy… can’t wait to see you!

Thankful that time cooperated as it went by quickly, Andy looked over the table one more time — he lit up candles to make the scene even more romantic, brought out napkins to make it seem even fancy, and added some of the flowers he had bought from here the previous day.

Hearing the knock on his door, he put up a bright smile as he opened the door and greeted her, “Hello, petal.” He stood at the side and let her in. surprising the two of them, Y/N surged towards him and hugged him; but it was a welcome surprise as he too wrapped his arms around her. “Missed me too much, hm?”

She could only hit his arm lightly as she shook her head. Sliding her coat off her body, he hung it on his coat hanger and guided her to the dining room. “Smells great in here. Is that,” She trailed off and looked intently where Andy removed the cover of the pot to reveal her favorite meal.

“My favorite!” She gasped out loud excitedly, “Are you a mind reader, Mr. Barber?” She squinted her eyes suspiciously at him. “Well that is exactly what I am, petal! How did you find out?” Though she took it as a joke, Andy knew better that it wasn’t her mind that she read; instead it was her entire online profile that he monitored.

With that, they began dinner that was filled with laughs and chatter. It seems that despite their difference in age, they always found something to talk about. “Wait, so you really hid your cousin’s clothes in the freezer?”

Nodding her head, she drank the last bit of the wine before answering, “She had it coming her way! She told me I had no chance of marrying Harry Potter!’ There was a baseless jealousy forming in the pit of Andy’s stomach, but he reminded himself that it was just her silly, childhood crush.

“Let me help you with that,” She offered once she noticed that Andy was clearing up their plates. Waving her off, he shook his head as he told her, “You’re my guest — more accurately, my date,” At the reminder of that, she looked down on the floor and Andy smirked, “Why don’t you go wipe off the table instead?”

Nodding, she proceeded to do so as a pleasant silence hung over them; Andy loaded the dishwasher as Y/N wiped off the table. Heading to the trash bin, she threw the trash and the paper towels she used —leaving her to stand beside Andy.

“Look at you, like a real housewife,” His comment had her taken aback. She didn’t know why, but part of her was delighted in the idea. “My, Andy, this is just our first date and you’re already thinking of marriage? What’s next? You wanna knock me up with your kid?”

Oh petal, you have no idea, do you? Andy smirked mentally, but his hands circled around her waist as he laid a gentle kiss at her nose, “And if that is my long term plan?” Pursing her lips, she could only tilt her head down; though it might be too soon for what he had said out loud, there was a tiny part of her that wanted that.

Lifting her head up with a hand, he smirked down at her, “I’m guessing you do want that, do you, petal?” She gave a slight nod which only fuelled Andy’s lust as he kissed her feral, leading her to walk backwards onto the dining table. She gasped as she was being lifted up to sit on the mahogany; granting the lawyer access to let his tongue enter her mouth. He groaned upon relishing the sweet taste that was her while his nimble fingers brutally tore the fabric of her shirt, “No bra? Why petal, were you hoping the date would end this way?”

She shook her head but quickly stopped as she let out a moan when she felt his lips and teeth nip at the skin of her breasts. Her hands clawed at his hair as he sucked on the nipple. “God these will fill up with milk,” He groaned out, but it was too indistinct for her hazy brain to fathom.

His lips trailed down to her stomach as he groaned against the flesh of her stomach, “Such a glorious stomach.” Upon feeling the coarse hairs of his beard, she giggled against him which allowed her to miss his husky moan of, “Gonna swell up with my seed.”

“Andy, please,” She moaned when his lips pressed kisses along the hemline of her pants. “Since you asked so politely,” He hastily shoved off her pants and panties in one go as he placed her thighs to rest on his shoulders, lifting her slightly off the table, while she planted her elbows firmly on the table. “Fuck!” The cuss she let out was dragged out caused by Andy furiously licking from her clit to the opening of her pussy. Her thighs trapped his face firmly, the rough texture of his beard contradicted his silky tongue lapping at the inside of her tight cunt.

“Can eat you all damn day, petal,” He caught the juices she was leaking with every flick of his tongue as his left hand rubbed on her hardened nub; while the other hand lowered his sweatpants until he was able to stroke his erect cock. Feeling her walls close in on his tongue, he smirked as he drove his tongue deeper inside her and rubbed her until she mewled out loud, “Fuck, Andy! I’m cumming!”

His beard was splattered all over his lower face, coating his beard. With a few more final licks, he let her legs fall from his shoulders and hang limply by the edge of the table. Standing up from the dining chair, Andy quickly removed his gray shirt as her hands weakly, but successfully, slid his sweatpants off legs. Her hands jerked his length while looking into him with desire, “Gonna fuck me real good, Andy?”

Loving the way she sultrily said it, he kissed her lips roughly as he pushed her by the hips, closer to the edge of the table. His right hand guided his cock to slide right in her, their tangled tongues moaned out loud upon being intimately connected. She tried to rut her hips against him, wanting to feel more of him. “Oh petal, let me do it for you.”

Both his hands settled on her thighs, using them as leverage to match his harsh thrusts as he slid in and out of her tight canal. Her walls gripped onto him tighter every time he slid back in, making him groan against the skin of her neck. The sting of her nails as they raked down on his back only added to his pleasure as it motivated him to plow her harder and faster, until she felt his tip hit her sweet, sensitive spot.

“‘M so close, Andy,” She whined, accentuating her point by digging her nails into his shoulders. Maybe it was the way she was piercing to his skin, or the way was falling apart under him beautifully, or the fact that he felt confident that after this she was going to be carrying their child, but it drove him feral which was evident when the table moved and shook in time with his relentless thrusts.

“Open that fucking cervix for me, petal,” He moaned out as his hand rubbed her swollen clit, “Let me shoot my seed in you.” Perhaps in the proper mindset, she would have viewed it as a red flag — bringing up marriage and having kids at the first date would have freaked her out. But in the heat of the moment, she found herself submissive and compliant with all his desires.

Her hands pushed his back closer to her, making her rub her stiff nipples against his chest as she begged, “Please, Andy. Cum in me.” And just as she moaned out the last word, she could feel her body tense as she clenched on his cock and cum at the thought.

Smirking, he continued his harsh assault on her pussy as pinched her clit to milk out more of her orgasm. Gasping out, she tried to restabilize her breathing — which was a challenge given that Andy was grunting wildly as his thrusts slowed down while the force remained. Feeling his cum fill her up surprised her, but she didn’t protest it.

Carrying her over to his bedroom, Y/N could feel herself getting tired from their activities. She willed herself not to close her eyes, but sleep seemed so enticing. The way Andy rubbed her back and lay her down on the bed gently didn’t help either. The lawyer smiled upon seeing the peaceful expression on her face; he kissed her forehead before reaching over to the nightstand and fish out the plug he bought and cleaned for her.

The plug was snug inside her as he slid his cock out. Laying down beside her, he cuddled her as he stared at her features, “I just know you’re gonna be pregnant, petal,” Her breathing was even and her closed eyes gave him the impression she was now falling asleep, “I checked your period tracker app, you should be ovulating now. Plus, I have been slipping some vitamins in your food and drink to help make you even more fertile.”

Wiggling around, his breath hitched when she nuzzled her face even more to his chest, “Goodnight, Andy,” Plus a kiss to his chest made his heart swell up even more. Smiling despite the joyous tears leaking in his eyes, he kissed her forehead once more before bidding her goodnight as they both slept.

“Here’s to new beginnings, petal.”

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