#I’ve been pondering on that for a while and once I realized I felt so amazing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tojiluv · 5 months ago

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UNVEILING LOVE — uchiha clan ft. sasuke, itachi, shisui, madara, obito [imagine]

context: how would the uchiha men realize their feelings and confess to you? based on “why do you make me feel like this?"

warnings: au. fluff. gn! reader. slight ooc?

notes: this has been sitting in the dust for a while, thank sensen for this idea and motivating me. not my art above.

tags: only for @seneon <3

SASUKE UCHIHA — ❝ THE LAST UCHIHA ❞

Sasuke wouldn’t initially understand his feelings for you, unsure of how they differed from those of a friend to a potential lover. Knowing Sasuke, he wouldn’t confess to you due to his past mistakes and doubts about whether he could give you what you want. But that would soon change once he returned to the village and saw you hanging out with a random guy who kept making you laugh at a vendor shop. When you noticed your teammate returning, you waved at him, not realizing the glare he was directing at your friend. Before you could get a word out, Sasuke gently grabbed your arm and pulled you away, making you follow him out of the store without a chance to say goodbye. He kept walking silently until you were alone in a random alleyway, hidden from prying eyes.

“Hey! Sasuke, what was that about? Is everything okay?”

"Who was that?" he asked, his eyes focused on your delicate features that he had grown to admire. You tilted your head, confused by his question.

"Huh? Oh, you mean Lino! He’s just a friend I've been visiting," you said, not noticing how your comment made him feel a bit jealous. Sasuke kept quiet, pondering whether he should say anything or continue to avoid his feelings for you. He wondered if you truly liked him the way he liked you, fearing the possibility of rejection.

Your eyes grew concerned as you watched the stoic male avoid eye contact. “I hope you know that I… I missed you,” you confessed, shyly looking to the side as his head shot up, eyes slightly widened. “I’m just glad you’re back now, even if it's only for a little bit. I’m happy you’re okay.”

Your heart suddenly raced faster than you could maintain as the stoic male grabbed your hand, holding it lightly before gripping it firmly with warmth. You glanced up, your face warming from the contact as you witnessed a small smile appear on his face. You had always had a crush on Sasuke since you became teammates on Team 7 with Naruto and Sakura, but you always hid your feelings deep down. You doubted that you would ever have a chance with Sasuke Uchiha.

"I’m glad you missed me… 'cause I’ve missed you too," he confessed, pulling you closer as you listened intently. "I… I didn’t understand this feeling, wondering what made me feel this way until I realized it was you."

You held your breath, nothing around you capturing your attention except the male in front of you.

“I thought about you the whole time I was away,” Sasuke sighed, gathering the courage to speak his feelings. “I realized that I’ve liked you for quite some time.”

Surprise consumed you, eyes wide open at the confession. You never expected this, especially from Sasuke, who usually wasn’t the type to express his feelings. But here you were, discovering that Sasuke Uchiha liked you, apparently for a long time now. Your heart swelled as a large smile spread across your lips, gripping his hand more tightly than before. Sasuke felt all the tension loosen from his shoulders as his admiration for you grew stronger from your words.

“I've always liked you, Sasuke, for years. And I will continue to do so as long as I’m by your side.”

ITACHI UCHIHA — ❝ ITACHI OF THE SHARINGAN ❞

Itachi found himself in a rare moment of contemplation, leaning against the sturdy trunk of a cherry blossom tree. He allowed his thoughts to drift to a singular figure that seemed to occupy every corner of his mind: you. Closing his eyes, Itachi attempted to unravel the enigma of his feelings. When had he fallen in love with you? The question lingered in his mind like a persistent shadow.

He recalled the first time he met you, your bright eyes reflecting curiosity and kindness, a stark contrast to the darkness that often enveloped his world. At that moment, something stirred within him, a whisper of possibility that he dared not acknowledge, frustrating his inner being with the thoughts. As time passed, your presence became a constant in his life, weaving its way into the fabric of his existence. Like music to his ears, your laughter echoed in his memories, warming even the coldest corners of his heart. Your unwavering support during challenging missions, and your gentle encouragement in moments of doubt—each interaction etched itself into his soul, leaving an indelible mark.

It was difficult for him to accept a different form of love to enter his complicated heart.

Now, under the cascading petals of the cherry blossom tree, the realization hit him with a gale force. His chest tightened, and he opened his eyes, staring at the soft pink petals fluttering around him, their beauty a stark reminder of his vulnerability. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his emotions settle within him.

"Why do you make me feel like this?" he muttered to himself, the question laden with confusion and a touch of exasperation.

Just then, he heard footsteps approaching. He turned his head and saw you walking towards him, your presence immediately calming the storm of his thoughts. You smiled, and he felt the familiar warmth spread through him, a warmth that he now recognized as love.

"Itachi, are you alright?" you asked, concerned.

He hesitated, his usual stoic demeanor cracking under the intensity of his feelings. For a moment, he considered staying silent, keeping his turmoil hidden. But then he realized he couldn't continue like this, trapped in his own emotions.

"It’s you," he said quietly, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "You make me feel like this." Your eyes widened slightly, surprise and curiosity flickering across your face. "What do you mean?"

He took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "Every time I see you and hear your voice, I feel something I can't ignore anymore. It’s confusing and frustrating, but I can't deny it any longer. I... I love you."

The words hung in the air between you, a confession that felt both liberating and terrifying. Itachi's heart raced as he awaited your response, hoping that the feelings he'd kept hidden for so long would not be met with rejection.

You blinked, absorbing his words, and then a soft smile spread across your face. "Itachi," you said gently, taking his rough hands into your own. "I love you too."

Relief washed over him, and for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to truly smile. The complicated emotions that had plagued him began to untangle, replaced by a sense of peace he hadn't known was possible. At that moment, under the cherry blossom tree, Itachi Uchiha found solace in your embrace, knowing that he no longer had to face his feelings alone. With gentle tenderness, he leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on your forehead, a silent affirmation of his love and gratitude.

SHISUI UCHIHA — ❝ THE BODY FLICKER ❞

The sound of clashing kunai echoed through the training grounds as you and Shisui sparred under the burning sun. Shisui's movements, usually swift and precise, seemed distracted today, his mind elsewhere. You noticed his unfocused gaze and slower reactions, wondering what could be bothering him. As you circled each other, you saw another opening and took it, landing a solid hit to his head. Shisui stumbled back, rubbing the spot where you had struck him, his expression a mix of pain and embarrassment.

"What’s wrong with you today?" you demanded, frustration clear in your tone. "You're not paying attention and using your full potential."

Shisui sighed, lowering his eyes to the ground. "I'm sorry," he muttered, avoiding your gaze. "I know I should be doing better."

Your annoyance faded slightly as you watched him. Shisui Uchiha, one of the most talented shinobi in the village, was never one to slack off during training. Something had to be seriously bothering him.

"Well, what's going on?" you asked, softer this time. "You can tell me."

Shisui hesitated, his mind racing. He had been overthinking his feelings for you for days, his thoughts a tangled mess of confusion and longing. He hadn't meant to let it affect his training, but being so close to you, yet unable to express how he felt, was driving him to lose focus.

"I... it's just..." he began, struggling to find the right words. "I've been thinking a lot lately, about... things." You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. "Things? What things?"

He took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. "About you," he blurted out before he could stop himself. "I couldn’t understand why I was feeling this way until I realized that I… I like you!"

The silence that followed was deafening. Shisui's eyes widened as he realized what he had just confessed, his face turning crimson. He hadn't meant to say it, especially not like this.

Your eyes widened in surprise, taken aback by his sudden admission. "Shisui..."

"I-I'm sorry," he stammered, backing away slightly. "I didn't mean to... I mean, I did, but not like this. I just..."

You stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Shisui, it's okay," you said gently, a smile tugging at your lips. "You don't have to apologize.”

Shisui stood up from the ground, wiping off any dirt as he avoided eye contact, his face still flushed with embarrassment. "I thought you knew," he murmured. "I don’t even use my Sharingan and barely put any power into my movements during our training sessions..."

"I just thought you were going easy on me," you admitted, rubbing the back of your head and feeling a bit foolish for not realizing the obvious signs. However, a warmth spread through you at his vulnerability, and a glowing grin appeared on your lips. "Well, for the record, I like you too."

The relief that washed over Shisui's face was palpable, his tense shoulders relaxing as he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Well, of course, you fell for my charms. How could you not?" he teased, a playful smile breaking through his worried expression.

You chuckled and shoved a hand against his shoulder. "Don’t get too ahead of yourself now. How about we continue sparring? But this time, I expect you to give it your all if you want to win over my heart fully."

Shisui grinned, feeling the weight of his unspoken feelings finally lifts. "Oh, you've got yourself a bet."

As you resumed your positions, you both couldn't shake the feeling that the sparring match had taken on a new, deeper significance. At that moment, under the fading light of the day, you both understood that this was the start of something special. The connection between you had deepened, turning a simple sparring match into a cherished memory. After the match (Shisui won), you sat together, hands linked, feeling a sense of peace and happiness, knowing that you had found something truly wonderful with each other.

MADARA UCHIHA — ❝ GHOST OF THE UCHIHA ❞

Madara Uchiha, a man known for his iron will and unyielding resolve, found himself ensnared in an internal struggle that defied his every attempt at control. His feelings for you had become a thorn in his side, a relentless source of annoyance that he couldn’t simply brush away. In an attempt to cope, he had begun to distance himself from you, hoping that the space would extinguish the unwanted emotions. However, it only served to exacerbate the situation. You noticed his sudden coldness, the way he avoided your presence and cut conversations short. Hurt and frustrated, you decided to confront him. You found him in a secluded courtyard, his back turned as he stared out at the night sky, lost in thought.

“Madara,” you called out, your voice firm. “We need to talk.”

He didn’t turn, his silence only fueling your frustration. You walked closer, refusing to be ignored. “Why have you been avoiding me? What did I do?”

“It’s nothing,” he replied tersely, still not facing you.

“It’s not nothing!” you snapped, moving to stand in front of him, forcing him to meet your eyes. “Tell me what’s going on!”

His jaw tightened, and you could see the storm brewing behind his dark eyes. “Just leave it alone,” he said, standing up from his spot to walk away.

“No,” you insisted, stepping into his path. “I won’t leave it alone. You owe me an explanation.”

The tension between you reached a breaking point. Madara’s frustration finally erupted. With a swift motion, he punched the wall beside him, cracks radiating out from the impact of his chakra. Despite the sudden action, you remained unflinching, eyes locked on his as you had anticipated this eruption from the stubborn Uchiha.

“Why do you have this effect on me?” he shouted, his voice a mixture of anger and desperation. “Why can’t I stop thinking about you? It’s infuriating!”

Your breath caught in your throat, but you pressed on, your voice softer now. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” you asked. “Why push me away?”

“Because I’m in love with you!” he roared, the confession tearing out of him. “And I hate it! I hate that I can’t control it, that you make me feel this way!”

The raw intensity of his words hung in the air, his chest heaving from the outburst. You stepped closer, reaching out to gently touch his arm. “Madara,” you said softly, “you don’t have to fight it. I love you too.”

His eyes softened, the storm within them calming. Vulnerability seeped through his usually stoic facade as he looked at you. “You... do?”

“Yes,” you replied, your voice steady and sincere. “From the moment we met after the war, I knew I did.”

For a moment, silence enveloped them, allowing his words to sink in. Then, slowly, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if afraid you might slip away. “I’ve been a fool,” he murmured against your hair, the tension in his body easing. “I should have told you sooner.”

You wrapped your arms around him, feeling the solidity of his presence. “We’ll figure it out together,” you whispered.

In that embrace, the world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you. Madara finally allowed himself to let go of the control he had clung to so fiercely. The future might still be uncertain, but with you by his side, he knew he could face whatever came next.

OBITO UCHIHA — ❝ THE MASKED MAN ❞

In the hidden depths of Obito Uchiha's heart, emotions swirled like a tumultuous storm, leaving him lost in a haze of confusion. Amidst the chaos of his thoughts, he struggled to decipher the true nature of his feelings for you. He watched you from afar, his heart yearning for something more, yet fearing the consequences of exposing his true emotions to the light. Each friendly gesture and shared moment deepened his uncertainty, leaving him adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions.

Day after day, he found himself drawn to you like a moth to a flame, captivated by your smile, your laughter, your mere presence. Yet, beneath the surface of his admiration, a seed of jealousy lay dormant, gnawing at his soul whenever he saw you with another man. He attempted to suppress the pang of envy that pierced his heart whenever he witnessed you in someone else's company, but the feeling only intensified with each passing day. The mere thought of someone else holding your attention, of another person eliciting the smiles he longed to see from you, was unbearable to him.

Then, one fateful day, his worst fears materialized as he stumbled upon you in the village, your laughter intertwined with that of another man's. A surge of jealousy engulfed him, threatening to consume him whole as he watched the scene unfold before his eyes, witnessing a random leaf ninja bid farewell to you.

Unable to contain his emotions any longer, the words spilled from Obito's lips in a rush of desperation and longing. "I can't stand seeing you with him!" he blurted out, his voice laced with bitterness.

You turned to face him, surprise flickering in your eyes at his outburst and undetected presence. "Obito, what are you talking about?"

Obito took a shaky breath, his heart pounding, struggling to find the right words. "I–I'm sorry. It's just... I've been confused about my feelings for you and the way you affect my entire being. And then seeing you with him... it hurts."

A heavy silence settled between them, the weight of his confession hanging in the air like a shroud. And then, to his surprise, you reached out and took his hand in yours, your touch sending a jolt of warmth through his veins. "Obito… Say it, please."

He sighed, feeling the weight of his emotions pressing down upon him like a suffocating blanket, his face burning from your intense look. “I know we're friends, and I value that more than anything, but I believe there's something more between us. And it's driving me insane because I… I cherish you deeply!”

Awaiting the sudden rejection, to his shock, you placed his hand against your cheek, your face nuzzling against his warmed palms as you graced him with the same sweet smile he had grown to love dearly.

“I've always loved you, Obito, ever since we became classmates in the academy. I knew that the boy who declared himself to be the next Hokage with those big goggles on his face was truly someone I would always admire.”

His heart skipped a beat at your words, a rush of euphoria flooding his senses as he realized how long you had waited for him. He couldn't believe his luck and fathom that the person he had been pining for felt the same way about him for so long. And as you leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his in a tender kiss, Obito felt as though he were floating on air. In that moment, amidst the chaos of his emotions, he found a sense of clarity and peace, knowing that he had finally found the person who would stand by his side through thick and thin.

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the-oblivious-writer · 8 months ago

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Let the Light In |7|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Seven: Tis' the Damn Season

Summary: After that eventful night at Tara's apartment, you find yourself pondering on a few things, but your banter with Tara never ceases. There is enough on your plate as it is, so when you bump into a familiar face it catches you completely off guard

Warning(s): Swearing, making out, mentions of drinking & intoxication, r has a case of bad communication, chemistry (like the actual subject 😣), compulsions, & implied anxiety

Notes: I took over a year off to cut you readers some slack, tell a friend to tell a friend - she's baackkk! 🤭 Ik you missed these stubborn little jerks, so did I. Also not this chapter being at like 10k+ words. Even then, there was a bunch more I wanted to add but I figured I'd save it for the next chapter (already plotting) I didn't wanna keep you waiting any longer than I already have

Masterlist|Previous Part|Next Part

The box of pizza and plate of wings sat completely abandoned, forgotten, on Charlotte’s coffee table as her hands traveled to your neck. You let your own hands drop to her hips, pulling her in. Her lips felt soft, yet foreign. You ignored that thought and continued to kiss her, slipping in your tongue while she maneuvered her way onto your lap.

Everything felt hot, you could feel your face heat up as she ever so slightly played with the hem of your shirt. When you gave her the silent signal, she slipped a hand under your shirt—not too high of course, but enough to feel your hips. You felt goosebumps at her touch, suddenly feeling nervous. You once again pushed any negative thoughts to the back of your mind, continuing to kiss her.

That’s when it clicked. Why you got so nervous all of a sudden, your mind was trying to tell you something, warn you.

You separated from her lips. She looked at you, a confused expression on her face. You weren’t meeting her eye line, feeling rather timid at the moment. “Are you okay?” She asked you. You barely heard her with your heartbeat drumming so loudly in your ears.

“Um…” You cleared your throat, still not meeting her gaze. “Yeah… I just—sorry.” Charlotte’s expression stayed put as you managed to remove yourself from the couch.

“Did I do something?” She asked, moving to also stand up. She looked at you with what you could only describe as confusion and concern. You couldn’t blame her one bit—one second you’re all over each other, the next you’re pulling back like she stung you.

“No—no, no, no,” you shook your head while gesturing with your right hand. “You did nothing wrong. I um,” you finally looked to meet her gaze, “it’s just been awhile, I guess.” You could only hope she didn’t see through your lame excuse, it wasn’t completely untrue.

“Oh,” Charlotte said. “…Oh,” she then repeated when she realized what you meant. “Shit, I didn’t push you did I?”

“I promise you didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve just been in a weird place …for a while,” you shrugged, not expecting to add that last part, your tone getting lower as you spoke those words.

“I get it,” she mustered an understanding tone.

A suffocating silence enveloped the room for a few seconds, causing you to look out the nearby window to be met with pitch darkness.

“It’s actually getting pretty late anyways and I’ve got an early shift in the morning…” You said while slowly getting your jacked that hung from the couch.

“Of course. Call me?”

“Yeah,” you briefly smiled at her while adjusting the collar of your jacket. “Sorry, again, for making things awkward,” you apologized while grabbing the last of your things.

“No, don’t worry about it. Stuff happens,” she waved you off while managing a reassuring tone.

You nodded at her before muttering, “thanks,” and finally leaving the apartment. As soon as you walked out into the crisp night air, you exhaled your own pocket of air you didn’t even realize you were holding in.

That’s when it all came crashing down; the awkwardness, stupidness, and cringyness that came from the situation all because you were scared to let your situationship see your scars.

Nice going.

You repeated words like moron, idiot, and dumbass while you walked to your car—the train of thought never breaking as you drove to your apartment. Manhattan’s late-night traffic didn’t exactly ease your frustration. You were in the middle of cursing out the car in front of you when your phone started to ring.

Still feeling ridiculously stupid, you were going to let it just ring out, but that was before you saw the contact name.

You answered the phone. “Tara?” You immediately asked with furrowed eyebrows. Why on earth is she calling you so late?

“Y/NN,” you heard her slur over the phone. Your grip tightened on the steering wheel, immediately realizing what you were about to be in for. Before you could get another word out, she interrupted you. “Have I ever told you you’re so gorgeous it actually hurts?”

Your eyes widened as heat rushed to your face, your hands nearly slipping off the wheel. The tips of your ears suddenly began to feel very warm while your mouth opened and closed a few times before you could get sound to come out.

“I—uh,” you cleared your throat before continuing. “Where are you right now?”

“Hommee. Where else?” Her answer was followed by hiccups.

“I’m coming over,” you said firmly before hanging up. Being distracted any further by her voice was the last thing you needed right now. You silently hoped nothing drastic was waiting for you at her apartment as you changed your route.

When were you going to stop jinxing things?

—

It had now been a few weeks since the night at Tara’s apartment took place. Not long after you put her to bed, you gave yourself some time to reflect on her words. And ever since that night, you have been repeating them in your head whenever you were with the Carpenter. It seems as though she was able to move on easily, at least, her silence on the topic made it appear that way. On the outside, you gave the impression that you too had moved on from that night, that it had not affected you whatsoever. But on the inside, you were in emotional turmoil. With replaying your memories, that same tightening feeling in your chest that you felt that night reappeared.

There were so many key points of that night to completely crumble over; for starters, the incident with Charlotte. You are beyond embarrassed thanks to your repulsion for emotional intimacy. You knew if she saw your scars questions would ensue, thus putting you in an uncomfortable position to spill your guts out. The last thing you needed was for that to happen, but that alone had you thinking.

You’ve been on over four dates with Charlotte now and you have no idea where you stand with her. She’s just a situation-ship as of right now, and for all you know she could be seeing this as more. But the thought of asking her where you stand with her makes you emotionally grimace and cause your stomach to churn.

If you can’t even talk to her about your relationship status, should you even continue seeing her? This question had you thinking even further. Maybe you rushed into this relationship, maybe it was far too soon. Was nearly a year too soon?

That was the last time you were in a relationship, the last time you allowed yourself any form of emotional intimacy with a partner. But that was the result of almost three years, years of building trust and connection. It was going to take a lot more than just a few dates with someone you don’t truly know to recreate that. It was going to take effort.

As for the Tara part of that night, you didn’t even know where to begin. Where could you? From her compliments to her insults, the night was certainly an eventful one. And just to think, you had seen her just hours before and there hadn’t seemed to be any issues.

The coming semester is certainly going to be an interesting one.

—

You and Tara were in your apartment, huffing and groaning could be heard throughout your room. She sat cross legged at the edge of your bed while you were leaned up against the headboard. Papers sprawled all over the bed, pens and pencils scattered—almost imitating what the inside of your mind currently looked like.

“Was the first sheet you gave me—was it nine or seven?!”

You let out a huff, mixed with a long sigh, at Tara’s repeated question. After running a hand down your face, you slid closer beside her to get a better look at her paper. “This is table nine right here,” you emphasized by rapidly tapping your pencil on the spot of the paper you wanted her to focus on.

She rolled her eyes as she mumbled, “Oh my god—” She turned her head to looked at you as she huffed, “Answer my fucking question with a yes or a no; was it a yes—was it a nine or a seven?”

You muttered a few curses under your breath—curses you knew she heard because of your close proximity—before taking your pencil to her paper once again. “Alright, okay so I’m gonna circle this—”

“What the fuck—?!”

“This is—this is nine,” you glanced at her for a moment to make sure she was paying attention. All you were met with was a dumbfounded look.

“But what’s the top??”

“That’s table seven.”

There were a few seconds of her just staring at the paper and you looking between her and the paper until she said something.

“What?” Her voice indifferent.

“So I’m assuming you don’t get it…”

She turned her gaze from her paper to you, hitting you with a hard glare. “No, asshole. I don’t get it.” She then threw her pencil to the side and got up from the bed. Her arm brushes against yours as she does so but you choose not to pay any mind.

“I’m so tired of chemistry,” she all but whined before dramatically plopping back down on your bed face first.

“You’re the one that said you needed help,” you pointed out while curiously flipping through her notebook. “I remember wanting to stick with routine and work on our history project.” Her doodles are cute.

“So helpful,” she sarcastically remarked, muffled; she was still face planted on your mattress, right beside you.

“I try,” you reply in a monotone voice; you were still flipping through her notes as you talked.

Tara rolled over on her back, pushing loose strands of her raven hair away from her face. She exhaled before clearing her throat—which didn’t get your attention, so she tried again …and again, after the third time she just settled for throwing a nearby pillow at your head.

You finally turned to look at her with furrowed eyebrows and a hand to the back of your head. “Um, can I help you?”

“Can we just start on the math now?”

“You couldn’t have asked that without the pillow to my head?” You asked incredulously.

“Do you have this, like, mental illness that prevents you from properly answering ‘yes or no’ questions—”

“Get your other notes out before I change my mind.”

Tara scrambled over to the side of the bed, reaching over to grab her bag that sat beside your bed. She quickly wiped off a giddy smile as she took out her needed papers. You were neatly setting her previous papers to the side as she did so.

“Alright, what do you got for me, Carpenter?” You inquired while she scooted back next to you; you’re both sitting side by side, leaning against your bed’s headboard as you looked at the page of notes she was showing you.

“This is basically everything that's going to be on my exam next week,” her stress regarding her exams was evident from her tone. “Some topics I’m good with, other’s I’m okay with, and a few I’m struggling with.” She turned to look at you, eyes practically burning holes in the side of your head with a pleading look. Pleading for you to help her.

After a moment of silence—of you intently staring at the paper—you hummed to yourself, nodding, as you finally returned Tara’s gaze before speaking. “I have highlighters; I want you to circle the ones you’re okay with in orange, and the one’s you’re struggling with in red,” you told her while reaching into the drawer of your nightstand for the highlighters.

All you got was a brief, “Mhm,” while you blindly thrashed your hand around for the highlighters. When you finally got the right colors, you handed them to her before getting up from your bed which earned you a confused look from the other girl.

“Where are you going?”

“Bathroom. Don’t miss me too much,” you couldn't help but smirk at the girl, leaving before she had the chance to counteract. You weren’t sure if you were smirking because of your own remark, or if it was thought Tara was missing you. It definitely left a warm feeling inside of you.

She doesn’t miss you. She wants less of you, remember? Your head reminded you, causing that familiar feeling of your chest tightening. Your breathing was still a bit hollow from the feeling as you finished up in the bathroom and walked back to your bedroom.

“You finished?” You asked Tara while returning to your previous seat beside her.

“Yes but I have a proposition for you,” Tara responded almost immediately. You stopped your movements, eyeing her with a suspicious look.

“Lay it on me,” you said.

“We can continue doing all this,” she gestured to her notes, “—but instead we can do it in a place with food.”

“I’m gonna need you to elaborate, please.”

“I want to go to the diner nearby, and finish studying there. I’m tired and starving—and you haven’t gone grocery shopping in weeks so I already know there’s not much to find in your fridge.”

“Wait, how do you know the last time I went shopping?”

Tara ignored your question, instead continuing to look at you with those doe eyes of hers as she continued to plead. “Pleeeaaase, Y/N?”

You looked at her, feigning a reluctant look before letting out a sigh. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Thank goodness. My stomach was starting to make noises I’ve never heard before,” she said as she was gathering her papers.

—

“Done!” Tara announced in a cheery tone. You looked up from your book as she slid over the sheet of loose leaf she was just working on. “I put a star next to number three; I was having trouble with that one the most,” she told you before sipping her half drunken milkshake.

You nodded her way as your eyes skimmed her paper. “All these are correct—including number three. Was there a specific reason you didn’t fully understand it?”

“Mainly the order of the steps,” she answered.

“I see. Well you were correct. But if you continue to have trouble with the memorization stuff, flashcards are great memorization tools. Especially colored ones. I can lend you some of you want,” you offered her while giving her back the piece of paper.

“Oh—yeah. Totally,” she chuckled before loudly clearing her throat and practically shoving the straw in her milkshake into her mouth. There was something that washed over her—possibly embarrassment? You couldn’t be too sure. But why would she be embarrassed? Sometimes you wish you could hear her thoughts, just so you could get some insight on what was going through her head during certain moments.

Tara stared down at her straw, subconsciously refusing to pick up her head until she felt less flushed. That was so embarrassing, she kept thinking to herself. ToTalLy! Goodness, Tara, she just offered you some flash cards—not her hand in marriage. Her cheeks got even warmer at the idea.

“You good, Tar?” You just had to ask with that painfully soft voice you get when you’re concerned. Oh, and why did you have to call her Tar? She still remembers when you called her Tar for the first time—you were hiding away from everyone in her bedroom when she found you. She felt her knees physically grow weak as heat rushed to her ears, and now she’s found herself in that same predicament due to you opening your stupid, occasionally sweet, mouth.

“Hm? Great!”

“Um,” you let out a short, awkward, and airy laugh. “Okay, good, yeah.” Your eyes subconsciously took a quick scan around the diner due to Tara’s sudden volume change. “So anyways, from the looks of those problems, you’re gonna nail your exam. Just try not to overthink your answers too much.”

Tara hummed before returning to her milkshake just to realize she was all out. Guess she’s going to have to find another thing to distract her eyes from you.

You, on the other hand, were still confused. Did you say something? Why did she seem so timid all of a sudden? Did the flashcards somehow cross a line? If so, in what way did it? Tara was being a little too silent for your liking, which is really saying something considering how much you value your quiet time.

You were about to do one of the hardest things you have ever done. Attempt small talk.

You cleared your throat, “So. How’s—how are you and uh Chad?” This finally got Tara to look up. She eyed you with a confused expression. “Like, dating and stuff,” you awkwardly added. Your palms were already growing sweaty as your leg began to bounce.

“Me and Chad? Dating?” That’s when she bursted out laughing, handing over her mouth and everything. You suddenly felt like a total dumbass but you weren’t sure as to why. Were they no longer dating? Well obviously, if you had to take anything from her reaction. But you weren’t doing a lot of laughing when you and your ex-girlfriend broke up.

“Oh—I’m sorry, let me catch my breath for a second.” She literally wiped away a tear from how hard she was laughing before speaking up again. “Y/N, Me and Chad are not together.”

“You’re not?”

“Nope. And we never will be, never ever ever.”

“Never ever?”

“Never ever.”

You couldn’t help the sudden wave of relief that washed over you, but you weren’t sure where it came from.

“But I saw you two kissing at a party,” you told her.

“Right …that. Yeah, I try not to think about that night if I’m being honest. It was honestly super embarrassing; I was completely drunk, so drunk to the point where I thought he was… someone else,” her voice grew a little quieter towards the end as she sank a little in her booth.

“Oh.” Was all you said. You didn’t know what else to say. What could you? That night was a misunderstanding, and judging by Tara’s words and reaction to the accusation of her and Chad dating—that relationship is long from happening. Yet another feeling of relief washed over you as you had that thought.

“Yeah,” Tara shrugged. That’s when something clicked in her head …she could use this awkward discussion to her advantage. “Since we’re on the topic of dating, how are you and Charlotte? You haven’t mentioned her in a while.” And good riddance for that, she silently thought to herself.

“I kinda ended that,” you nonchalantly answered before shoving a fry in your mouth.

“Oh that sucks,” she feigned a sympathetic tone. “It seemed like you two were really hitting it off.”

“I guess.”

Tara wanted to leave it that, really she did, but she just couldn’t help but pry. “Something happened?” She asked you.

“Nope. Just fizzled, I guess. situation-ships do that sometimes, not surprising.”

“Wait, ‘situation-ship’? What do you mean by that?” Her question and her tone of interest had you looking at her with raised eyebrows, utterly confused for what felt like the millionth time that night.

“Like, it wasn’t serious. I wouldn't call her my girlfriend, doubt she’d call me hers. Nothing more than a casual relationship,” you responded, for some reason you felt the need to tread lightly.

“Didn’t you go on like five dates? If you go on multiple dates, that means you’re dating. Thus the word dating being an extension to date,” she sternly replied.

“Alright, I understand the responsibility of a verb—why are you getting upset over this?”

“I’m not upset.” The pout she wore as she defensively crossed her arms with slumped shoulders told you otherwise. “I just—I don’t know. I want pie.”

“Okay. I’ll get you pie, but could we please switch to a different subject?”

“Fine,” she mumbled; her gaze may have been directed toward her napkin, but it threatened to meet you every second.

—

“I can’t believe you finally watched it!” You exclaimed to Tara. The both of you were headed back to your apartment; it was dark out as it lightly snowed. You were holding the bag of leftovers, walking on the street-side of the sidewalk as Tara kept her hands firmly placed in her jacket pockets, protecting them from what felt like sub-zero temperature.

“I only avoided it for so long because of you!” She laughed.

“Wow, so you’ve been missing out on one of the greatest shows of all time due to pettiness?”

“Okay, okay—I said it was good, not great.”

“Ah, but you wanna say great. It’s that darn pettiness holding you back, once again,” you said as your smile never broke.

“Did you just say ‘darn’?”

“Yeah, what?”

Tara only laughed as she shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Oh! You should watch the extended cut—if you thought it was funny before, you're gonna love the superfan episodes.”

“I’ll give them a shot,” she truthfully responded. She would say anything to keep you talking like this. One of the things she loved listening to was you geeking out over something you were passionate about. Maybe it was the sound of your voice, maybe it was how you lit up, maybe it was how animated you were while talking.

“Definitely do—” You were cut off by a body colliding into you, causing you to drop the bag of leftovers you were carrying. You muttered a “sorry” before crouching down to pick it up. Tara was about to help until your eyes met with the other person’s.

“Y/N?” The stranger asked.

“Olivia?” You mirrored a confused look.

What was your highschool sweetheart from Woodsborro doing in the middle of Manhattan?

“Oh my gosh—it really is you.” Olivia laughed a bit as the realization set in. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit too.

“Yeah—yeah, and it’s you.” You responded before she came in for a hug. Your movement stuttered for a second before welcoming her hug. She was still as warm as the day you met, her dark hair still holding its shine it did since the last time you saw her.

The hug was understandably awkward, but for once you didn’t mind awkward. “What are you doin’ in New York?” You finally asked her.

“I’m here for this documentary thing I’m working on,” she said.

“That’s right—your documentaries. I’m glad you’re still at those,” you told her in a genuine tone.

She grew a smile at the words you spoke. “Thanks… that means a lot.”

“Oh—uh, you remember Tara, right?” You turned and briefly pointed at the Carpenter who slightly waved.

“Yeah, I do. Hey,” Olivia said with no bitterness. She took a few steps and held out her hand to Tara, which the other girl took.

“Hey,” Tara nodded with a tight lipped smile.

“I’m surprised you two are out in public together,” Olivia joked. You and Tara both laughed awkwardly at your dynamic being brought up.

“Me too,” you joked back. “So uh—you staying long?” You asked, purposely deflecting to a different topic.

“It’s currently indefinite, I’m crashing at a friend’s place right now.” There was a glint in your eye that Olivia picked up. “Would you like to grab coffee sometime? I’d love to catch up.”

“Yeah, that sounds cool,” you replied; you were trying your best to hide your eagerness.

“Awesome,” she grinned at you. “So, see you around?”

“See you around,” you said. You instantly began to cringe at yourself as she started walking away, but she didn’t leave without giving you one last look. As soon as she left ear shot, you let out a long awaited sigh.

“Geez.” The sound of Tara’s voice caused you to flinch, you completely forgot she was standing right there. “That was hard to watch,” she remarked.

“No one asked,” you said with an eye roll as the two of you began to walk again.

“Someone’s bitter,” she replied. “Hey—” She put the back of her hand on your chest to stop you from walking as she turned to look at you, “Let’s go to my place instead.”

“Why?”

“I wanna finish these leftovers on the roof,” she answered.

“My apartment has a roof,” you told her.

“Not the same.”

“How is it not the same?”

“It's just not. Now come on before our food gets even colder and more destroyed.”

“I guess I’m following you,” you mumbled while trailing behind Tara.

—

You and Tara were sitting on white patio chairs; the same ones you recall from the last few times you’ve been up on the roof. The wind had calmed down since your walkover, snow still lightly falling from the sky. You were eating your fries as Tara was eating what was left of her pie.

“I’m just saying, I could totally take down a bear.”

“Not in a million years, Tara. You, a 5 foot gremlin, versus a big furry thing with claws that could rip you to shreds? Be serious,” you deadpanned.

“First of all, I’m 5 foot 1, second of all, you’re really underestimating me here. If I can take down a sociopath while crippled—”

Tara didn’t talk about Woodsboro a whole lot, really the only time she’s talked about it—with you at least—was the night it happened, the party at Henry’s house, and just now if that even counted. She never seemed to name-drop anyone connected to that night. But you understood. You don’t remember the last time you said Dewey’s name out loud.

“A sociopath? Yes. But last I checked, the said sociopath didn’t have the same physical traits as a bear—therefore, your argument holds no power.” You shoved a few fries in your mouth before silently offering her some, in which she accepted.

You glanced over at her to see her expression—she looked kind of disappointed. You sighed, thinking for a moment, before speaking again. “Okay, I’m not saying you have no chance. You’d still do some damage—and I guess it’s not impossible to beat a bear.” You hated the instant flip in your stomach from seeing the way she lit up, it was subtle but you’re grateful you noticed.

She smiled, almost grinning but she resisted. “That’s what I’m saying!”

“Jump on its back, put it in a headlock,” you added with your own little smile.

“Exactly. You get me,” she absentmindedly said right before taking another bite of her pie.

“What a mad world we live in,” you joked while reaching beside your chair for your milkshake. Tara wasn’t sure what you meant by that, but she just decided to ignore it rather than dwell on it—at least for the moment. She looked over to see you sipping your milkshake and a sly smile appeared on her face as she began to lean closer to you, her elbows resting on her chair’s armrest and expression never faltering.

“You want something, Tar?”

“That’s an awfully tasty looking milkshake you have there,” she commented; she feigned an innocent tone.

You glanced at her from your peripheral vision—she was on your left side—as you played with the straw in your milkshake. “Tara…” You all but sang. She hummed in response, her position still the same. “Would you like my milkshake?” You asked, but your tone hinted that you already knew what her answer was going to be.

“Well, I guess since you’re offering. Who would I be to pass up a perfectly good milkshake?”

“You’re a piece of work,” you remarked with a broad smile that Tara could describe as gleaming.

“You’re the sucker who gave me her milkshake,” she sneered before taking a sip from said milkshake.

“I’d watch my tone if I were you, ‘cause this sucker could easily take it back,” you threatened, lightly laughing along with the other girl.

She scoffed and waved her free hand, “Yeah right. I’d like to see you try.”

“Oh, yeah?” You get up from your chair, eyes never leaving Tara. “I bet I could take it back from you, no sweat.”

A smirk grew on Tara’s face as she also got up from her chair. “Okay, okay, you’re on then. Winner takes all—all being the milkshake.”

“You got yourself a deal.”

“Okay then let’s do this, come on bring it,” Tara’s grin was just too strong to fight off as she lifted up her elbows; one, to use as a shield for her milkshake, and two, to use as her weapon.

You let out a laugh when you saw a defense mechanism. “That’s pathetic,” you quipped.

“Oh, really?” She said with raised eyebrows. She then shoved her elbows towards you, both of you laughing during all this.

“Oh!” You took that as a chance to grab her from behind and wrap your arms around her waist, holding her in place as she attempted to break loose; in her defense, it wasn’t as easy to do so while she was flushed against you, her face heating up from both the action and her ceaseless laughter.

The milkshake dropped to the floor, but neither of you paid any mind. You lifted her up a bit as you spoke, “Not much of a fighter now, huh?” You quipped in a smug tone.

“You are so playing dirty right now!” She said; her shirt rose a little bit and her hands were loosely holding onto your forearms.

“I don’t remember seeing a rule book. Just surrender and I’ll put you down,” you told her as if it was the simplest thing ever; for anyone else, it would have been.

“No way!” At her response you lifted her higher at which she started rapidly patting arm.

“You finally surrender?”

“Never in a bazillion years!” Just as Tara said that, she felt a drop of water on her forehead. She furrowed her eyebrows, glancing up at the night sky. “Shit—I think it’s raining.”

“Yeah right, you just don’t wanna be the one to surrender,” you accused while adjusting your hold on Tara.

“I actually felt—” Before Tara could finish her sentence, a loud grumble could be heard as it started to abruptly pour. “I told you!”

“Shit,” you cursed as you put Tara down.

“We need to get inside.”

“Incredible observation. Thought of being a detective?” You quipped.

“Shut up. It’s freezing, let’s just get inside.” Tara was visibly shivering, wrapping her arms around each other while hugging them close to her torso.

“Okay, come on.”

Tara barely let you finish speaking as she started rushing towards the door. “Wait—! Tara, don't run! You could slip!” You tried to match her speed without breaking your neck in the process. You nearly sighed in relief when she slowed down.

She looked at you with an inpatient look as she waited for you to catch up. You were in the process of taking off your jacket as you caught up to her. “If you’re going to slow me down, at least walk a little faster. I’m getting drenched, and this outfit isn’t exactly water resistant—I’m not water resistant!”

“Geez, alright. Quit complaining.” You caught up to her, trailing behind her as you wrapped your jacket around her. “Stop looking at me funny, just open the door,” you said in response to the lost expression she gave you.

She mumbled something incoherent while reaching for the door’s handle and turning.

As soon as you stepped inside, you let out a long exhale while rubbing your hands together. You looked beside you to see Tara attempting to shake off the water she was drenched in; of course, as a result, she ended up spraying you in the process. “Do you have to do that near me?”

“Where else am I doing it?” She tightened your jacket around her, holding it impossibly close to keep herself warm.

“Whatever, I gotta get home anyway. Picked up a few extra shifts,” you said while double checking your phone’s dryness.

“I thought the cafe gave you off on Saturdays.”

“Uh, yeah. I do. I’m—covering for a coworker, I owe them so,” you trailed off with a shrug; you batted your eyes away from Tara, suddenly finding your drenched jeans very interesting. “Well, I should get going. I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, see you,” Tara responded; you made your way down the stairs but not before sparing a small smile.

—

It was the next day, 8:52 am on a Saturday. You had woken up around 4:00 since you had to get in around 7:00 to help set up and open at 8:00. Exhaustion was hitting you back and forth, the only thing that was keeping you awake, barely, was your few hours old coffee you had brought from home. Staying out late with Tara was really biting you in the ass, but you were usually tired these days so it wasn’t much of a difference.

Although it was slow since the day had just begun for many, you still found yourself dealing with incompetence so early in the morning. Truly, it was too early for this. If one more person asked about Halloween stuff, Thanksgiving stuff—any other thing they should’ve gotten months prior, you are going to bash your head into a wall.

Why are people asking their barista about stupid out of season decorations? It’s simple, the cafe wasn’t paying you enough; attending college and living off campus wasn’t getting any cheaper and you needed a reliable job. So when you saw that Target was hiring, you applied. That’s how you came to balance two jobs and some of the most insufferable customers you have ever had the displeasure of conversing with.

“I’m sorry miss, but we stopped selling that after October. But if you’d like, I can show you to the candy aisle—”

“No, listen to me, these are what I want,” she snarled while shoving her phone in your face; her phone showed a picture of the Halloween candy she wanted. “I don’t want regular sour patch, I don't want regular m&m’s, I don’t want regular reese’s pieces—I want Hal-lo-ween candy.”

“I know that, but miss—”

“Can you just go check in the back? Please? My son has been driving me insane and I need to at least do this one thing right,” she begged.

You let out a silent sigh, “Of course. I’ll go check in the back to see if we have anything left.”

“See, now that wasn’t so hard,” she said as you made your way to the storage room. You rolled your eyes, choosing to ignore her statement. It really was too early for this.

You went into the storage and sat down on a nearby box; you just stared at the ceiling, zoning out for about a minute before heading back.

“I apologize, we don’t have what you're looking for. Is there anything else I can help with?”

She scoffed at you, clutching her purse as she did so. “No, I do not need your help because clearly it is no use. Your manager will be hearing from me,” she angrily said before strutting away.

“I’m sure he’ll love that,” you remark out loud to yourself. Once she’s out of your eye line, you let out an aggravated sigh. Working in retail is not for the weak.

You walked back to the end of the aisle and began to restock the shelves again, the thing you were previously doing before being interrupted. You picked up one of the boxes of cereal when your hand accidentally knocked something out of your pocket. It fell by your feet, you glanced at it for a moment before looking back at the shelf—but that’s when it registered what it was. You immediately placed down the box then kneeled down to pick up what you dropped.

It was a folded piece of paper. You slightly furrowed your eyebrows as you unfolded it before you traded your confusion for a smile. You looked at the doodles that covered the paper, the doodles drawn by Tara. Her name was even signed at the corner; sometimes she draws her name in different fonts to pass the time. Over the years, you noticed her favorite font to draw is graffiti lettering. You were now standing up, still smiling down at the piece of paper. You always admired the way she wrote—

—Suddenly somebody clears their throat. You jumped, blinking rapidly while attempting to shove the paper back into your pocket. You turn your head around to see your co-worker, Avery, crossing her arms while giving you a look you couldn’t quite read. “Secret admirer?” She remarked with a smirk.

“No, it’s just—it’s nothing. Scraps, really if you could even call it that,” you stammered while trying to nonchalantly lean against the shelves. It wasn’t a total failure, you guess.

“...Right,” she narrowed her eyes at her, clearly not believing your crappy save, but dropped it nevertheless. “Anyways, me, Vicky and a few of the others are gonna go out for a drink tonight; can I count you in?”

You stopped leaning on the shelves as you thought for a moment. You usually weren’t one for going out, but it’s been a long few months. With that thought, everything that’s happened in the past year flashes through your mind. It’s been nothing but motion sickness, and maybe you could go for a drink or two.

“You know what—yeah, I’m in,” you nodded at her before returning to the boxes of cereals that sat in the cart beside you.

“Wait, really? You never wanna come to these things …damn it, I owe Vicky like 20 bucks,” Avery silently moped as she walked away. You laughed a bit at her comment as you continued stocking the shelves.

Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad.

—

When you got home that day, you made sure to take a nap before it was time to leave for the bar. When you got there, you stood at the doorway for a few seconds, honestly not sure what your next move was but luckily you caught Avery’s eye and she waved you over. You walked over to where she and the others sat at—the bar—you sat down on the stool beside Avery who was sat next to Vicky. You were surprised they weren’t sitting on the same stool with how tangled with each other they were.

“You made it!!” Avery shouted in a cheery voice that made you wince as she pumped her fists in the air. “Look, Vicky! Y/N’s here!” Vicky nodded at the girl while trying to subtly ground her by rubbing her lower back.

She looked over at you with an apologetic look. “Sorry, she gets kinda loud and hyper when she’s drunk.”

You chuckled a little, giving her a reassuring shake with your head. “Don’t worry about it, I’m a pretty embarrassing drunk anyways so I couldn’t talk. Probably why I don’t do it much,” you told her while your arms rested on the table.

“Gosh, I can’t wait to see you drunk,” she said while adjusting her arm as Avery was now resting her head on Vicky’s shoulder.

“That’s never gonna happen—just a club soda for me. At most I’ll do some watered down beer, but that’s really it,” you said.

“Wow.”

“I know, I’m a party animal,” you quipped with sarcasm laced in your voice.

“Total rebel,” she added as you both laughed. “So, other than the fact that you’re a total bad boy—how are you liking New York?” She asked with Avery still wrapped around her who had snuggled up closer to her.

“It’s fine. Hasn’t changed much since the last time I lived here.”

“Yeah? Did you live in Manhattan before or someplace else?”

“Brooklyn. I was born there, and lived there until …I didn’t,” you answered with your train of thought trailing off with your answer. So much has changed since you moved. What if you didn’t move? What if you never moved back? What if you lived in Woodsboro first? What if—

“—Did your family move around a lot?” She asked another question out of pure curiosity.

“Uh…” You picked at the wood surface in front of you, suddenly feeling drained and exhausted. “ No. Just one time.”

“Cool, my family moved around a few times. It’s a pretty hard thing to go through, even if it’s just once,” she said in an understanding tone. She looked back to Avery, smiling to herself as she stared admirably at the half-a-sleep girl nuzzled up against her.

You glanced over at the adorable site before asking, “How long have you two been dating?”

“A couple months, but we’ve known each other for ten years,” she responded while pushing back loose strands of hair that covered Avery’s eyes.

“That’s a long time,” was all you could think to say.

“Yeah, she’s literally my other half. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” After letting herself stare at Avery for another moment, Vicky turned her gaze back to you. “How about you—you seeing anyone?”

“Eh.”

“Eh?”

“I was uh, sort of seeing someone? But broke that off recently. Too close for comfort,” you elaborated for her while silently deciding if you should drink tonight.

“Your casual relationship get too intimate?” She raised an eyebrow before you responded with a tiny nod, she probably would have missed it if she blinked in the same moment. “Yeah, I used to be like that before Avery.”

“Guess I just gotta wait for my Avery,” you half-joked, earning a laugh from Vicky.

“I hope you do, she’s definitely a keeper,” she said fondly. She looked at you—your head now resting on your folded arms—and saw the distraught expression you wore, it looked as if you were silently having a debate with yourself.

“Something up?”

You did a double-take at her, lifting up your head before sparing her a meek smile. “Just thinking, you know?”

Vicky nodded before adding on. “You need advice? I’ve always been told I give great advice.” Her voice was kind and held nothing but honesty.

“Sure…” You were hesitant to accept but you were also on the verge of digging yourself into a hole just to avoid decision making. To be fair, you often think about barricading yourself to avoid dealing with your problems—and oftentimes, you have actually done it. “So last night I bumped into my ex,” you reluctantly began, “and we briefly talked, and she mentioned meeting up sometime to catch up.”

“I’m assuming you’re nervous about the catching up part?”

You confirmed with a hum.

“Are you nervous about being the first to reach out, the catching up part overall, or both?”

“Yes.”

She let out a tiny laugh, not unkindly, before telling you that advice she told you about not long ago. “This was all last night, right? I say, wait a couple more days, then reach out if you’re up to it, and then once you get that part out of the way the rest will build itself.”

“You really think so?”

“Promise, I really don’t think you should stress too much on this. And listen, if you’re really not ready to meet up with her yet, I think she’d understand. Either way, it’s your choice,” she told you before sipping her drink.

“That’s… really good advice. Thank you,” you complimented.

“You’re welcome, anytime. I did mention that I give great advice.”

“I said good, not great,” you said in a tone that hinted you were just teasing.

“Yeah, okay whatever.” Vicky playfully rolled her eyes as you smiled at your own taunting.

Maybe this was not as bad as you were making it out to be, maybe everything would be okay. Maybe, just maybe, things were finally starting to look up.

—

Things were awful. You could never have been so wrong in your life. It was one thing after another. First with the text; you had to just hope Olivia didn’t change her number as you looked for her contact—which you had to look for by number since your removed her name and photo right after your breakup out of pure pettiness—and it took you about half an hour to think of the right words to send, and as soon as you sent them you immediately regretted it.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Next was when she actually responded.

Y/N (4:42 pm) Hey, it’s Y/N. Catching up sounds cool, so if the offer still stands I’d love to take you up on it

(XXX) XXX-XXXX (4:56 pm) Hi, yeah offer still stands. I’m actually free tonight if that works? I know that’s short notice so I completely understand if you’re unable to

You were in the middle of revising your notes at the kitchen counter when you heard the ding from the couch. Your head immediately shot up, and as soon as it processed what that ding was—you ran to it, hopping over the back of the couch and grabbing your phone.

You read the message over to yourself exactly seven times before impulsively reacting to her message with a thumbs up. After your response, you got another text from Olivia and the two of you made a decision of when and where to meet.

Oh, how deeply you regretted your impulsiveness as you stared at the same outfit over and over again. That’s what came right after the communication part; what exactly you were going to wear. You felt ridiculous, you’re usually not like this—but that happens to be a reminder of all the different things Olivia brings out in you. Good and bad. It was like you were 17 again.

Eventually you decided on something comfortable, casual, it’s not like you were going someplace fancy. The air in your apartment suddenly grew to be suffocating the closer it got to the time you had to leave. You gathered your belongings; you gathered your wallet, keys, phone, headphones, and lighter, shoving a few of them into your pockets. Just before leaving you stood still for a second.

What could I be missing? There has to be something. There has to be something. Damn it, there has to be something!

Your eyes wandered around your apartment for a good minute before you called it in. You patted yourself down while muttering the names of the items you felt in your pockets before finally leaving. You locked up behind you and let out a long sigh as you ran your hand down your face.

When you got to the bakery, your heart was beating in your ears and you felt your ears warm up when you made eye contact with Olivia from just a few tables away. She waved at you and you waved back as you subtly gulped. On the way towards the table, you silently hoped she didn’t pick up on the urge you had to perish right then and there.

“Hey,” you said. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to hug her or shake her hand, something, so you just stuck with sending a small but simple smile her way.

“Hi,” she responded. She returned your smile as she looked you up and down. “You look good—I mean, you look yeah,” she awkwardly laughed, flustered from her stammering.

You returned a short laugh, feeling a tiny bit of the tension beginning to ease but not entirely, “You look good too,” your smile grew softer as you spoke. You noticed her eyes still wandering. “Didn’t get a good look last time?” You quipped in a teasing tone.

She shook her head as she tried to fight off the bright smile that painted her face. “I see you haven’t changed much,” she said.

“Well, me and change have never mixed well.”

“Oh trust me, I know,” she made her tone less monotone to ease the weight of her words. But that didn’t make you oblivious to their meaning.

You cleared your throat, adjusting your posture while you folded your hands and dropped them to your lap. “So, how’s the documentary going?”

“Just fine,” she said positively. “Still in the early stages, and you know how that can be.” You nodded along to her words. It suddenly became awkwardly quiet.

You picked at your cuticles, pressing harder and harder for that sweet sensation you craved, your gaze everywhere but at Olivia. That tension you felt before started to settle in your chest again, and you didn’t know how to cope. You just wanted out. You regretted agreeing to this. You wish you never bumped into her. You wish you never agreed to dinner with Tara because then this wouldn't be happening.

Of course it goes back to Tara. It always seems to.

“You still do that thing with your fingers?” She asked out of the blue.

“Huh?” You furrowed your eyebrows, looking down at your lap to where your hands rested.

“I don’t have to look to know. I've known you for three years, Y/N,” she said.

“Oh.”

“And I can hear you picking at them from under the table.”

You suddenly felt small, slumping in your chair, and continuing to avoid eye contact with the woman who sat across from you. However, Olivia did not return this treatment. She sat up in her chair, placing her own hands on the table before turning them over to expose her palms. “Let me see your hands.”

“What?”

“Show. Me. Your. Hands.”

It didn’t seem like she was asking. There was definitely not a question mark in there. You rolled your eyes, letting out a small sigh that held aggravation. Reluctantly, you complied with her commands. She took your hands in hers and began to examine them, her fingers tracing down and softly rubbing against yours—you forgot how soft her hands were. As soon as her hands made contact with yours, you felt your joints grow weak and your cheeks felt too warm. You don’t remember the last time you held hands with her but it was certainly having an affect on you.

“Have you been using these as a chew toy?” She rhetorically asked, referring to your fingers whilst still examining them.

“Okay, they’re not that bad.”

“Yes. Yes they are,” she said with no hesitation.

She finally stopped looking at your fingers and instead at you. When you saw the worried expression that painted her face, you knew a line of questioning was approaching. “Are you okay?” She inquired in an unbearably gentle voice.

“I’m fine.”

“Which means you’re not fine.”

“Putting words into my mouth, as always,” you said in a low tone as you pulled your hands away from her.

“You really want to go there?” She let out a short exasperated laugh with her question, raising her eyebrows as she spoke.

“When I say I’m fine—I’m fine,” you said while leaning in and emphasizing your words by pressing on the table with your index finger; you leaned back against your chair when you finished speaking.

“Oh my God. You are literally so unbelievable—do you even hear yourself?” She looked at you with pure disbelief which only confused you further.

“What are you even talking about? All I said is that when I say I’m fine, I mean those words. How am I wrong here? I genuinely don’t understand,” you expressed in both frustration and genuine confusion.

“And what I am trying to say is you’re still the exact same person I was arguing with right before we broke up.”

“What?”

“You never want to talk! Listen, baby, I get you’re grieving—but you can’t just shut me out like this. It’s apparent that you need help! You don’t have to rush into it, but eventually—”

“Whether I talk or not is my choice! And I’m not seeing some stupid grief counselor, okay? Just because I don’t wanna talk to you about certain things, doesn’t mean I’m shutting you out—and I don’t need help! I’m fine. I’m just—damn it, I’m just processing. Can’t you let me do that at least?”

“You have been ‘processing’ for months! It’s time to—”

“Time to what? Move one?”

“That’s not what I was going to say!”

“But you’re thinking it. You’re thinking it just like everyone else is; my mom, my brothers, everyone at school—just leave me alone, all right!”

“Y/N, nobody is—”

“No! Everyone is thinking! Just stop, okay! I don’t need your bullshit sweet nothings, I don’t need some therapist, I don't need to talk about it—I’m fine!”

You and her could not even go five minutes without your conversation, or lack of, forming into an argument. And it was your fault. You were the problem. You couldn’t answer a simple question. Maybe you were hiding behind the fact that you didn’t know how to answer that question, or that you're trying to hide the answer from others. Either way, you always find yourself forming emotional barricades around you, no one in and no one out.

“Hey, come back,” Olivia’s voice rang. You were pulled from your thoughts, blinking rapidly as if it would wipe away the memories you tried so hard to erase. She leaned in, her irritated expression replaced with a comforting one. “I know how mean that voice in your head can be, I know what it does to you—but I just want you to be okay.”

You met her gaze, your expression equivalent to the look of a lost puppy. “Thank you, Olivia,” you simply said. It was not much, but it still weighed in emotion.

The rest of the night was less intense. She asked about Blackmore and how it’s going, which inevitably opened the door to her questioning you about seeing you with Tara the other night, and you found out more about her documentary. The night was long and tiring, but as much as you hate to admit it, you’re glad you agreed to catch up with Olivia. And you would be a bold faced liar if you said you didn’t miss her. The wound is still arguably fresh, but it’s beginning to heal.

You walked into the apartment, looking forward to changing into a pair of pajamas and binge watching some TV on the couch until you passed out. You have been studying non-stop for exams for the past four weeks, so why not give yourself a treat? Plus, this upcoming school week, you will officially be exactly one week from exams so you will be locked in. What does that mean? You do what you usually do but multiply that by a million, anyone who has known you long enough knows they’re going to hear less and less from you the closer you get to exams. It’s as if you completely shut down from the outside—actually, that’s exactly what happens.

As you walked inside, you yawned and rubbed your tired eyes. But as they begin to focus again, you notice a few blobs sitting in your living room. When your eyes are fully focused, that’s when you see them.

“Are you shitting me,” you expressed in a monotone voice while turning the locks on the door before throwing your keys to the side.

“No—no whining!” Anika immediately said. “You knew they were coming over.”

“I thought you canceled,” you said.

“Uncanceled.”

“What a miracle,” you remarked as you took off your jacket.

“How come whenever I have people over you have a problem with it as if this isn't a shared apartment?”

“Y/N being an inconsiderate jackass? What a revolation,” Tara pitched in with a smirk. You looked over to deadpan at her and she was already staring back at you.

“Says the woman who still owes me a milkshake,” you wiggled a finger at her. You both smiled at each other before you turned back around to kick off your shoes. “You know what, Nik, it’s fine. I’m just kind of grumpy right now.”

“It’s okay, I’m sorry for not giving you an update,” she said, matching your own apoplectic tone. “You wanna join us? We were gonna play some Uno then watch a movie.”

“Uh, I don’t know—”

“Yeah, probably 'cause you’re gonna get all embarrassed when I wipe the floor with your ass in Uno,” the younger Carpenter knowingly instigated.

“Oh, excuse me? I’ll have you know I’m the reigning champ in my family—don’t start something you can’t finish, princess,” you instigated back.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Alright,” your gaze stayed on Tara for a moment before switching back to Anika, “I’ll join you.”

—

“Tara is totally looking at my cards!” Chad shouted while shoving his cards to his chest like an elderly woman clutching her pearls.

“I am not! You’re the one who keeps leaning on my side!” Tara whined back with just as much passion, if not more.

“Okay—no one looks at anyone's cards!” Anika cut in. “Alright, babe, it’s your turn.”

Mindy wore a devious smirk, slowly picking a card from her deck for dramatic effect.

“Boom, suck on that!” Everyone leaned in to look at the plus four Mindy slammed down on the pile of cards. Chad instantly groaned, immediately feeling a sense of regret for wasting his last plus four. He sulked while taking four more cards.

Now it was your turn. Tara was right after you, you had the chance to make her life a living hell. All you had to do was place the three plus four from your deck and you would double Tara’s deck in size and be one more card away from Uno.

You made a decision.

“Plus four,” you gloated regarding the single plus four you placed down.

“Damn it!” Tara made sure to glare at you while she picked up her four cards. “Just wait, you’ll see. I’m going to make my comeback.”

“Whatever you say,” you said in a doubtful tone. As Tara silently cursed to herself while flipping through her deck in frustration, you couldn’t help but stare fondly at the girl. She always had a competitiveness to her that you couldn’t help but respect. It was kind of cute.

After another seven minutes, it came down to just two people; you and Tara. You sat from across each other, debating your next play while one taunted the other.

“You know you’re going down, right?”

Tara laughed at your words. “You have at least ten cards, I just have two more turns and I’ll be following through with wiping the floor with your ass.”

“Oh, yeah?” You said, unintentionally with a come hither voice. You leaned in, your voice lowering but the tone still the same as you spoke to her. “You keep that energy, Carpenter.”

Tara's face suddenly grew warm, her stomach enveloping with butterflies as your voice crashed against her ears. You leaned back against the couch, looking at your own cards as it was Tara’s turn now.

Shit, you were in her head now. You totally did that on purpose, you had to. And what a dick you were for that, you knew what you were doing—again, you had to be aware of your actions. You must know the stupid feeling you give her, the way her stomach flips, how her legs turn to jello when you call for her. No. Focus. Come on, Tara. Lock in. Wipe the floor.

She cleared her throat, blinking down at her cards while processing them. It took a moment for it to click before she tapped back into her competitiveness and slammed down a card. “Uno! Plus four—suck on that!” Now she had just one card remaining in her hand, just one more turn and she would be victorious.

You smiled at her, your head tilted a bit as your eyes lit at the sign of her celebrating. She calmed herself down, feigning a calm demeanor. “Alright, it's your turn.”

You sighed. Well it was fun while it lasted, you enjoyed playing with Tara. It was entertaining. It’s nice playing with someone who can handle your competitiveness. “Uno, uno out,” you said while putting down your entire deck. You sat in your spot, looking at Tara with a shit-eating smirk with your hands folded together as Tara sat there dumbfounded.

“That’s—what, no, wait,” she furrowed her eyebrows as she rummaged through the cards you just placed. They were all green sevens. All of them. “How’d you—”

“Chin up, honey,” you teased, winking at her

“Oh you’re a real piece of work.” She shot up from her seat as she rushed over to a nearby closet. Your eyes followed her movements as you raised your eyebrows at her sudden actions.

“You two finally finished?” Mindy asked but was ignored by the other girl. “What are you doing with that—can you like stop ignoring me?” Tara returned with a box of Jenga in her hand and the others trailing behind her.

“I’m too tired to play Jenga,” Chad said.

“Good thing you’re not.” She now looked to address you, “You, me, Jenga—now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” was all you said as she immediately began setting everything up.

“What’s this about?” Anika asked you.

“Oh, I beat her ass in Uno—graciously so—and she’s being petty about it,” you shrugged.

“I am not being petty, I am unsatisfied. Seriously—how do you win with all green sevens?! Ugh, never mind that. We’re playing this and I’m going to hold out on my promise.”

“Of wiping the floor with my ass?”

“Exactly.”

“Woman of her word,” you say while getting comfortable in your spot.

Mindy, Anika, and Chad watched from the sidelines as you and Tara went at it in Jenga. There were many, many close calls, and few times where the other nearly flipped a table. You both tried to get into the other’s head while the other was sliding out their pieces, but so far no mistakes. But the tower was growing wobbly, it was getting late, and it was only a matter of time before that tower fell over. Now, it was simply a matter of who would make it come to that.

It was Tara’s turn, and there were not many places left for her to take from so she was forced to resort to an incredibly risky spot. You took this as another opportunity to mess with her. “Hey, Tar?”

“Kind of busy here,” she said—the block just halfway out.

“Will you marry me?” You casually inquired.

Tara’s eyes widened and her eyebrows jumped in surprise. Her hand immediately faltered, dropping her piece as the tower came crashing down. Her mouth opened and closed, her stare averting back and forth from you and the fallen tower; she didn't even know where to begin.

The others just remained on the sidelines, completely entertained by what was unfolding in front of them.

“Is that… a no?” Your eyes were almost pleading as you continued to taunt the girl, your millionth smirk that night threatened to show itself.

“I’m going to kill you,” Tara responded as she squeezed her eyes shut, still processing what just happened.

“Not before the honeymoon,” you quipped. Chad, Mindy, and Anika could now be heard laughing, no longer able to hold it in.

“You can’t just—” She shut her mouth out of frustration, settling for narrowing her eyes at you.

“I can’t just what, sweetie? Come on, use your words.” Oh, this was fun.

Suddenly you got a pillow to the face which only made it funnier, to you at least. “You owe me a rematch, cheater!”

“Excuse me, I didn’t cheat. You messed up on your own devices,” you said while patting down the pillow and putting it to the side.

“You know what you did,” she said with bitterness laced in her voice.

“I don’t, so how about you tell me? Tell me how exactly my words affected you; you know, so I can prevent myself from accidentally cheating next time.” You never broke eye contact with Tara; you enjoyed how much she was squirming thanks to you, maybe you enjoyed it a little too much.

“Next time?”

“You wanna rematch, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I do.” This whole interaction had Tara blushing; she needed to leave, like right now. “How about I get back to you in 5-7 business days? Sounds good? Cool. Well, it’s late and Chad’s my ride so we should probably head home, right Chad?” Her words were rushed which made you raise an eyebrow at the sudden change.

“Hm? Oh sure, I’ll just get my keys and stuff and we can go,” Chad said before going to get his belongings.

“So, I’ll see you around—buddy,” she awkwardly punched your arm in a playful manner.

“Um, yeah, buddy. See you around,” you chuckled at her awkwardness.

“I’m still expecting an answer though!” You called out as she made her way to the front door.

“5-7 business days!” She repeated back to you.

“I’m holding you to that!”

-----------

A/N: well that escalated, gosh, keep it in your pants R! 😦

Taglist: @t-wylia @lesbianpepsi @jennasfav @alyciaddict @justafoolinlove @steffido1993 @niqmandu @severelyuniquereview @darklron @ravenousinferno @smut-religiously777 @beautifulmongerbanditsalad @vanatalye @alexkolax@andsoigotabutterfly @ajortga

#let the light in au #tara carpenter #tara x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter scream #tara carpenter x fem!reader #scream x you #scream x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #scream fanfic

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sweetlittleneptune · 7 months ago

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"You speak French??"

The translations were made by me, as I'm a native French speaker! tho, if you have any issues/questions/see any mistakes, don't be afraid to point them out!

The fact that you never admitted to speaking French to the residents of the mansion was a simple lie of omission. You didn’t think it was that important at first, and then you also noticed how much of an advantage that was. This meant you could spy on some of residents without much trouble at all. Sadly, the charade couldn’t last forever.

NAPOLEON

He had a habit of rambling in French to himself. Random thoughts, most of them unimportant and simple little reminders to do something later. But every once in a while, he would mumble something that caught your attention, and you’d have to hold in your laughter. He had to stop though, once he realized you understood what he was saying and was absolutely humiliated.

It had been a rough day, and the man was frustrated. Between the bickering kids and the eccentric residents, he was practically boiling. That was reason enough to be mumbling insults and such.

“C’est juste des cons. Pas capable de se la fermer, tous inutiles.”

(They’re just idiots. Can’t shut up, useless.)

And it came out before you could even think about it. You just had to.

“Quand même, c'est un peu méchant M. Napoléon. Mais je l’admets… ils sont un peu lourds.”

(Well, that’s a bit rude Mr. Napoleon. But I’ve got to admit… they are a bit annoying)

The look on his face was absolutely priceless. Surprise, confusion, worry, all of it. Napoleon opened his mouth once, then closed it. he reopened it again and closed it once more. Third time’s the charm they say…

“Since when…?”

“Ah, that’s my little secret. Just don’t tell the other, will you?”

Suspicion crossed his face.

“Why?”

“You know, it’s a great advantage to have. Would be a shame to lose it.”

“You’re a devil Nunuche, but a smart one I’ll admit.”

And with a chuckle he left the room

COMTE DE SAINT-GERMAIN

You intended to tell him at first. When he started bringing you to all those dinners, galas, and parties for the aristocrats of the city. You wanted to speak with him and the other attendants. But as soon as they heard the accent in your “bonsoir”, they switched to English, and you rolled with it for some reason. Now it had been months, and you felt it would be weird to start speaking French now.

You were used to being ignored in conversations too. None of it was on purpose and you couldn’t take it personally when Comte was such a popular man to begin with! What you weren’t used to, though, was being disrespected right in your face as if you weren’t there.

The first comment had been something along the lines of “you finally found someone to give you a son!”

Your husband was quick to answer that he had chosen you because you were you. It had nothing to do with kids.

The second almost made you open your mouth. But it was no use. Comte made very sure to let him know he was crossing a limit and ended the conversation there.

“Some people lack manners, it seems. No use wasting more time on this unimportant discussion.”

You simply nodded and followed.

But then you wanted a little treat to eat, and the buffet was on the other side of the room. So, you left Comte for a moment to grab something. Sadly, the same man from earlier was there, chatting away with someone you didn’t know. As soon as he saw you, you knew something unpleasant would happen.

“Elle n’est rien de bien spécial, mais j’imagine qu’elle doit être particulièrement bonne au lit si le Comte de Saint-Germain a décidé qu’elle était bonne à marier. »

(she’s nothing special, but I guess she’s particularly good in bed if the Count of Saint-Germain has decided to make her his wife.)

You pondered for a moment if you should even grace him with an answer. It wouldn’t do any good, you knew that. But if the man had the galls to say it, he surely could listen to your answer, no?

“Monsieur, j’apprécierais sincèrement que vous vous absteniez de m’insulter en ma présence. Et puis, ce sont de riches paroles, venant de l’homme dont la femme est reconnue pour avoir plusieurs amants. Au moins, l’un de nous sait satisfaire son partenaire… "

(Sir, I would appreciate if you could hold back from insulting me in my presence. And this is rich, coming from the man whose wife is known to have several lovers. At least, one of us can satisfy their spouse…)

Red rose to the man’s face.

“Eh bien, je crois que le message est clair!

(Well, I think the message is clear!)

Comte’s voice made you jump in your place. You hadn’t heard him coming at all! You turned to look at him with shyness in your eyes, a bit worried he would scowl you for your action. But all he did was look at you with pride.

As you left though, he did ask where you learned to speak French.

“A while back, in my world.”

JEAN D'ARC

That night you were staying up late to clean up after one of Leonardo’s raids of the library. It was rotten work for sure, but someone had to do it and Sebastian was finishing up polishing of the silverware. So here you were, going through piles of books left on tables.

Time passed and after a while of not hearing any noise, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to sit down and read for a few minutes. There was a book that had caught your attention while cleaning up. It was a little book of French fables. Some of which you remembered reading back in school when you were young. Slowly, the stories caught your attention for good and the world around you faded.

That’s when Jean entered the room, in the hopes of finding some peace and some books to help him learn to write and read. Still hooked on your little island of nostalgia, you didn’t hear him at all. And him, not wanting to bother you, stayed in his little corner of the library.

An hour must have passed before your eyes left the pages of the book. But when you did, you were surprised to find you weren’t alone anymore. And you felt a bit cheap about being caught slacking on your job.

“I didn’t hear you come in, Jean. What are you doing here?”

“I’m trying to read this book. But it’s hard, I don’t understand much…”

The poor man was trying to read “Les Misérables”, of course he was having a hard time understanding what all those fancy words meant! You held your chuckle in and handed him your fable book.

“You might find this one easier to read. You picked a rather daunting book to try to learn.”

“Oh but… you know I speak French mademoiselle. Your book-” You smiled.

“Take a look at the cover. What does it say?”

It took him a minute to decipher the sounds and the words, but he managed to read the title out:

“Les fables de La Fontaine.” Jean paused. “It’s in French…”

“Yes, it is.”

“You can read French?” there was curiosity in his eyes.

“Oui, mais pas que. Je le parle aussi.”

(Yes, but that’s not all. I can speak it too.)

“Je ne savais pas. Vous ne l’avez jamais dit.”

(I didn’t know. You never told us)

“It’s my little secret,” you answered with a smirk. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should finish cleaning Leo’s mess.”

“Merci.”

“Bienvenue!”

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janeyseymour · 8 months ago

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Landslide

Summary: Melissa's doing a lot of self-reflection while she ponders about what the future might hold for the two of you.

Feel free to listen to my cover of the song too!

WC: 1.95k

Melissa Schemmenti has been through a lot- there’s no two ways about that statement. She’s had plenty of rough seasons, and they’ve shaped who she is today. And then you came crashing into her life the day that you quite literally tripped and fell walking into her during the first day of development at Abbott your first year. Your mere existence threw her into an existential crisis, and that was before the two of you started dating. And now? She’s contemplating asking you to marry her (how you managed to get her to rethink her entire outlook on life, love, and marriage without your realizing it is beyond her). With this revelation of hers that she might want to get married again, she’s doing a lot of reflection of the course of her life.

I took my love, I took it down. I climbed a mountain and I turned around. And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills, til the landslide brought me down.

She used to wear her heart on her sleeve. That’s actually how she fell in love with Joe. It was a typical school girl crush in the eighties when she met him in an entry level writing course during college that everybody was required to take in order to graduate. They fell in what she thought was love and got married far quicker than she had ever expected herself to do. She had climbed that mountain, and she almost made it to the top. But then, their marriage had turned into the situation that she had promised herself she would never be in. She turned around, and as she began her trek down, she saw her reflection in what was now a snow covered hill. She saw the way that this experience changed her, and she knew that she would never be the same again- not after what Joe had done. And then the landslide brought her down, and she had fallen from what felt like the highest peak, and she found herself in one of the lowest valleys.

Oh, mirror in the sky: what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life?

Building herself back up to be as much of the Melissa Schemmenti that she knew and missed was a process, and the redhead knew that it was always going to a little different than it once was.

Melissa found herself looking up at the sky quite often, feeling a sense of serenity when the sun in the sky shone on her face or when the droplets of water that fell from the clouds trailed down her face and she couldn’t quite tell what was rain and what was tears. It was freeing and made her feel as though everything might just be okay.

The redheaded woman was looking up at the sky on a rather cloudy and dismal day as she wandered through the city aimlessly when she finally decided to ask herself what love really is.

Melissa came to the realization that day that she had no idea what love was. Her mother and father certainly didn’t have the love story everyone yearned for- no, they ended up divorced by the time the redhead was ten. She remembers hearing their fights, the cursing and tears, while she lay in bed trying to fall asleep. A part of her had died in those years, and she truly wondered in that moment if the inner child within her heart could ever rise above and find love- true, real, and natural love that wasn’t forced or expected of her.

The woman walked through the city without a destination, wondering if she could handle the changing ocean tide of being in a marriage to being single again. Could she handle the different seasons of her life that were yet to come? She supposed she made it this far, so she can’t give up now- if anything to spite whatever God was trying to make her life a living hell.

Well I’ve been afraid of changing, cause I built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, even children get older. And I’m getting older too.

That night, Melissa went back to the small apartment in the middle of Center City Philadelphia that she couldn’t quite yet call a home. She stood out on her balcony, eyes focused down on the streets below her. Somewhere, Joe was roaming those streets looking for his next booty call. And in that moment, she realizes that she needs to change her ways- it’s been two months that she’s been moping around since the divorce was filed.

But she was terrified of change. She had built this whole life around Joe and his friends and family, and she lost it all in an instance when she caught him in their bed with another woman.

With time, Melissa’s heart healed and mended itself- the only true remedy for heartache and heartbreak. And in that time, she grew to love where she worked at Abbott Elementary. She grew bigger and bolder, back into the woman that didn’t put up with shit and marched to the beat of her own drum.

Years passed, and the redhead found herself watching her first class graduate from Abbott. Only then did she realize that even children grow and get older- onto their new chapter, and then in a few short years she would find herself at their high school graduations cheering and clapping for them among their families.

But Melissa Schemmenti was like family to some of those kids- like a second mother, or even a first mother in certain cases. And she would continue to be there for them.

Only after she enters the door to her townhouse that at least somewhat feels like a home to her now does the second grade teacher realize that she too is getting older.

And then you came around. You started working at Abbott when Melissa was finally settled into her own being and she was happy with where she was in life. And you came and shook that all up in your flowery sundresses and bright smile. You turned her world upside down with your infectious positivity and sunny disposition. The redhead who wore mostly muted colors with her pleather pants and leather jacket started to wear brighter colors again, because you unintentionally made her see the world like she was living in technicolor.

And after a few months of you working there, the two of you began to see each other romantically. You brought out parts of the hardheaded second grade teacher that she thought she would never see again, yet she was still Melissa. She was still the woman who knew a guy and wasn’t afraid to back down from a bare knuckle fist fight or to bring out her bat to destroy someone’s car who wronged her. You found yourself loving that. You also found yourself loving the way that Melissa would turn soft for you in an instant if you needed it. You knew she was the woman of your dreams, and the redhead felt that too oddly enough.

And so, here she is in her classroom as she waits for you to finish up a meeting with Malik’s parents and doing some self-reflection again as she wonders if maybe you are the miracle that she’s been waiting for her entire life- if you are the one true, real, natural love that she’s been looking for. If you’re the one that she’s going to throw caution to the wind for and get married to.

Well I’ve been afraid of changing, cause I built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, even children get older. And I’m getting older too.

She’s been afraid of change her entire life. Melissa Schemmenti thrives off of routine and the things that she knows to be true in the world. But you came and shook everything up, and she’s built her new life around you now. Is she willing to change everything if a second marriage of hers goes south again?

But… time has made her bolder. Time has shown the redhead that no matter what happens, she’s resilient- she’ll make it through. And genuinely, she isn’t so sure that she would hate the change of being married again, as long as it was to you.

Time passes around her slowly as she looks around her classroom and realizes just how much has truly changed since she started teaching you and even just in the past few years that you’ve been in her life.

The kids that she started out with are onto the real world, they’ve grown up. They’re off creating their lives, creating families and raising beautiful children that are now wandering through the halls of Abbott themselves.

The practice of teaching has changed and evolved as Melissa’s been here, and while she’s always been afraid of change, the redhead realizes that she’s always been changing and growing to fit the standards of the time in order to give her students the best education she can.

And you? You’ve brought a new sense of life and passion into her world… she’s getting older, she’s aware of this. Maybe you’re worth the potential landslide that could take her out again. She doubts you will- you’re nothing like her ex-husband in the slightest. And that gives her hope. The lingering fears though stay with her, because much like you’ve shaped her, so have her past experiences.

Oh, take my love, take it down. Oh, climb a mountain and you turn around. And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills, well the landslide brought me down. And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills, well the landslide bring it down.

Melissa’s worn her heart on her sleeve when it comes to you. And so far, she hasn’t had to take it down. You’ve both climbed the mountain, but neither of you have turned around. She saw her reflection as she climbed up, and she’ll be quite frank: she still glances down at the snow-covered hills occasionally when a moment of self-doubt and self-worth takes over. But she doesn’t think that the landslide will ever bring the two of you down.

And so, she opens her phone and pulls up the number of one of her guys.

“Jack? I think I need a ring,” she says into the phone lowly, praying to God you aren’t coming around the corner.

“For?”

“I think I found the future Mrs. Schemmenti,” Melissa reveals with a soft smile on her face. “I’m done letting the landslide bring me down.”

“Meet me tomorrow after work, and I’ll have a few things picked out for you.”

She hangs up the phone with a smile.

You walk into her classroom a few moments later, bags slung over your shoulder.

“Hey, babe,” you sigh. “You ready to go home? I’m beat, and I need some relaxation and Desperate Housewives.”

Melissa chuckles softly as she stands from her desk chair and grabs her own bag. She stretches to peck your cheek before taking your left hand in her own. Subconsciously, she rubs her thumb on your ring finger as she thinks about the meeting that she has tomorrow with her guy.

Melissa Schemmenti has always been afraid of change… always wanted to heal that inner child of hers that used to look up into the night sky and wonder what love was. And here she was, changing for you and knowing what love truly felt like.

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfiction #singing #guitar #landslide cover

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dr4kenlvr · 2 years ago

Text

𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 ?

feat. shinichiro sano, inui seishu, draken, mitsuya takashi, hanma shuji x gn!reader - fluff (1.3k+)

—in which you and the boys have a sleepover together.

nana's note: tried to write for some characters i don't usually write for (as per requested by my followers hehe)! i hope my characterization of them isn't too off, please enjoy and let me cry over hanma shuji again.

SHINICHIRO quietly shuts the door behind him, as he steps onto the balcony of his home. the warm air of a tokyo sunday travels across the exposed skin of his arms—a pleasing sensation as he searches his pocket for a lighter. a pack of opened cigarettes lay on the small table in the corner. shinichiro bends over to fetch one, lights it up, and takes a long drag. he sighs, leaning forward against the railing. everything is quiet, save for the sounds of people beneath him and the occasional loud honk of a car. but then, the sound of balcony’s door makes him turn.

it’s you—with your jacket half-on and hair disheveled all cutely. “shini, i’m gonna head home soon. i’ve got wor—”

“why don’t you just stay the night?” he says, almost without realizing. he takes another drag of his cigarette at your expression; are you gonna turn him down? but as he exhales, the smoke that evades his vision dispurses to reveal a small smile on your face. shinichiro feels his lungs somehow haven’t exhaled.

you drop your bag on the floor, and join him outside. taking his hand in his, you begin to play with his fingers, pondering his suggestion. he looks at you with an expectant look, cigarette caught between his lips. “only if you drive me to work—without making me late.” you laugh.

shinichiro laughs with you, exhaling once more as he intertwines your hand with his. “well of course, darling.”

INUI rinses his face twice more, before you hand him a towel to pat himself dry with. “thank you,” he mumbles, voice muffled by the cotton smushed on him. you smile at him, glancing up at the bunny headband keeping his hair away from his face. he reluctantly agreed to use it, considering that no one else was around to see a man of his caliber wearing such an accessory.

“you look cuter than you think, sei’” you look at him through the mirror, in time to see his face burn up the slightest bit before he turns his head away from your lingering eyes.

“just focus on washing your face,” he says, still refusing to face you. you giggle, as you lather the cleanser between your fingers and apply it to your face. doing skincare was a therapeutic part of both your separate routines, therefore nothing could victor the happiness you felt to do it with him.

you wash away the foam, pat yourself dry with a towel and remove your headband. taking his hand in yours, you lead him to your bed.

“you know, for someone who claims they hate the headband so much—why haven’t you taken yours off yet?” you tease, pointing out the pastel pink headband still neatly wrapped around his head.

inui’s eyes widen, and you’re able to capture the full extent of his blush as he scrambles to take off the headband, throwing it in your direction with a huff.

DRAKEN shakes the bag of chips, stopping when they almost spill over the edge of the bowl and onto his bedroom floor. you pop open another can of pop, reaching over to pour some into his cup. the two of you have been using this sleepover as an excuse to get high on sugar and empty calories. you’ve been at it for hours now, just mindlessly chowing down snacks while talking about everything and nothing all at once.

“that flavour is so ass, babe.” draken complains, slouching down against the side of his bed, his long arm extending over to grab some popcorn from your lap. he watches solemnly as the liquid fills his cup, before you retract your arm.

“quit your whining, you always drink it all anyways.” you retort, snorting at the look of feigned disgust on your boyfriend’s face. “besides, that’s not what you should be complaining about—try feeling the numbness in my ass from sitting on your floor for so long.”

draken laughs, coughing on his food. “my ass hurts too y’know!” he yells lightheartedly, making you laugh hysterically with him. “m’sorry i ain’t got a table for us to eat at,” he says, placing a hand on your thigh before squeezing slightly. “and i don’t think you want to eat in the main lobby of a brothel.”

you sigh, and scooch yourself closer to draken’s body. “it’s really no big deal ken, at least both of our asses hurt.” you lean up, pressing a kiss to his lips. “there’s no one else i’d rather share this butt pain with, anyways.” you say, mirroring the grin plastered on draken’s face.

MITSUYA scrubs the plate in his hands with a sponge, coating it in soapy water before moving onto the next set of dishes in the sink. upstairs, he can hear mana and luna running around while squealing; they’re probably playing some kind of tag game. “be careful girls! don’t get hurt!” he calls from the kitchen, pausing his movements to listen for a response:

“yes brother! we’ll be careful!” luna calls out from atop the stairs, before huffing away as her sister chases her once more. mitsuya smiles, glad that they were able to occupy themselves when he had his hands full. behind him, mitsuya hears a huff too—but it’s from you, who's carrying a basket-full of laundry that needs to be folded. you place it down on the floor and begin to fold the articles of clothing, separating them between his clothes, his sisters’ and his mothers’.

“s-sweetheart! you don’t need to do all that,” mitsuya scrambles to finish the dishes, when he realizes you’re intent on folding it all yourself. “you can just relax, i’ll be done in a bit.”

you bite back a grin, and shake your head at him. “let me help you out takashi,” he blinks at you with an unreadable expression, “you deserve to have some weight taken off your shoulders.”

placing a neatly folded sweater on the couch, you walk over to where he stands and wrap your arms around his waist from behind. you squeeze him tenderly, “let me help you,” your voice is muffled by his back, which you’ve shoved your face against. mitsuya’s hands—still wearing gloves, and covered in soap—are frozen as you stay there for a few moments. then he smiles down at you behind his shoulder, and with an expression of pure gratefulness, he laughs, “.. okay, my love.”

HANMA bickers you for the third time to get into bed with him: “babe! the bed’s so cold without you next to me, y’know?” he whines, making you shoot him a glare from across the room. he snickers, cheering like a child when you finally shut off the lights and walk towards the bed. hanma lifts the blanket for you to crawl under, pulling it over your body along with his own when you slump under.

you groan happily, feeling all your muscles relax under the weight of the blanket, and hanma’s secured arms around your waist. “s’much better,” he mutters quietly, face tucked into the crook of your neck. you two had left the window slightly ajar, allowing pleasantly warm winds and the sounds of citylife to sway into the otherwise—silent room of your house.

yawning, hanma presses a kiss to your nape and pulls you closer to him. you blindly search for his hands under the blanket, interlacing your fingers with his once you did, while shivers travelled down your spine at the feeling of his smile against your skin. you lift his hand to your mouth, pressing a kiss to his tattooed skin, earning yourself more pecks to your skin as his lips decide to travel across the expanse of your shoulders.

as your eyes become gradually heavier, you grant yourself the luxury of finally closing them. and before the wonders of sleep can completely take over, hanma whispers a quiet “love you, angel”, before falling asleep holding you in his arms.

taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu @kazuhoya @gwynsapphire @sscarchiyo @reiners-milkbiddies @smileyswifeyy @bontensimp-blog @thisbicc @megumisemo (send me an ask or dm to be added!)

reblogs, comments and feedback are greatly appreciated!

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azrielslostshadow · 2 years ago

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lemon tart

word count: 1297

azriel x gn!reader

authors note: azriel is cute when he panics. cassian loves to mess with him too. look out for future parts!

pt.2, pt.3

taglist: @andrewgarfield2022

azriel was gonna kill cassian.

how could the general of the night court, the man responsible for the high lords' armies actually be so forgetful?

cassian told him it was something about a new mating bond, which azriel knew was ridiculous, cassian and nesta have been mated for 100 years already. he probably just wanted to sleep in with his wife, something azriel figured he would also want if he knew what it was like to be mated to someone.

either way, he was still pissed off.

it was also unbelievable that the only thing feyre wanted to eat during her second pregnancy were lemon tarts. lemon tarts specifically from the new bakery the high lady was obsessed with, Lemon Dreams.

she could have anything in the world and she chooses lemon tarts?

azriel was really reconsidering how he felt about his High Lady.

he supposed the place was cute… in a country farmish sort of way. it wasn’t really his style, but he supposed he could see the appeal. calming jazz played in the background, while daisies were lay scattered across dark wood counters, and the coffee and berry aroma’s filled the air. it seemed so out of place compared to the dark blue’s, purples, and blacks that normally filled the spaces of velaris’ cafes.

“anything you’re looking for specifically?” a voice broke out from behind the counter and azriel’s heart fell to his feet.

there you stood, bright and beautiful and smiling up at him, and oh gods you were beautiful… and speaking right at him! what did you say again? “huh? oh sorry, i-i just completely zoned out, what were you saying again?”

You blinked at him once… twice… and then you giggled at him and azriel thought that if could bottle it up and carry it with him, he might never have to go to majda for healing ever again.

“its okay. must just be one of those days right?” you clearly carried the sunshine in your smile, otherwise the shadowsinger wouldn’t have to turn away when you made eye contact.

“yeah,” was he actually out of breath right now? great mother, he was pathetic.

you made your way further down the counter before turning to him again, “so are you looking for something specific?”

“yeah, my friend she wanted a couple of lemon tarts? you have those right?”

“which ones was she looking for?”

“which one?” azriel was confused. isn’t there only one kind of lemon tart?

“yeah, i have lemon-mint, lemon-berry, original, lemon and cream, and i can make specialty tarts for future orders if she’s looking for something in the future.”

it was then that azriel realized why this bakery was called Lemon Dreams. the display trays were filled with lemon desserts. “wow, uh sorry. i didn’t realize that there were so many kinds of lemon tarts… original i guess?”

“original?”

“yeah! that should work… i hope?”

“hmm…” you started, “who’s it for?”

“what?” there was no way you could know who wanted this lemon tart! velaris is a busy city, you could hardly ever know all the people in your own neighborhood.

“is she a regular? i remember all of my customers.”

“all of them?”

“every single one! just give me a hint, i think i could figure it out.”

azriel pondered for a moment. it wasn’t like he was putting the high lady a risk… if she really came here so often you probably knew her. and you looked terribly cute, with those hopeful eyes staring into his, “she’s pregnant.”

“feyre?”

he blinked.

you clapped your hands together, lit up and full of joy, “seriously? i almost thought i was gonna get it wrong!”

“how- how could you possibly know that?” he was shocked. there had to be many pregnant faes who loved lemon tarts!

“i’ve never met someone so passionate about lemon tarts quite like our high lady.” you began pulling various lemon tarts into a bag, nodding towards his left, “she made me that painting right there.”

azriel turned to see a painting of a field of lemon trees under the night sky. it looked exactly like the work he had seen in feyre’s studio a few weeks before. “i didn’t realize you two knew each other.”

“she says this place inspires her. sometimes she brings her sketchbooks and drinks tea in here for hours.”

“really?”

“oh yeah! honestly, i think she does it to try and get more people in here. i was kind of dying before she started coming around.”

“really? but it's so… peaceful here.” azriel couldn’t imagine people not wanting to be in this bakery. he wanted to be in here all the time (mostly just to see you smile but regardless he wanted to be there).

“it’s not very night courtly is it though? i mean that’s fine! but i can see why some might be hesitant to stop by. for you?”

azriel realized you had probably been waiting for him to add to the order, but he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than to see you smile again, “what’s your favorite?”

“my favorite?”

“yeah. i’ll take whatever you like the most.”

your eyes light up, “cake or pastry?”

“pastry now, cake next time.” azriel couldn’t even believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“lemon danish?”

“is it your favorite?”

“today it is.”

“it changes?”

“every day.”

“well then, i guess i might need to come back and see what else is good?”

you handed him the bag of lemon-flavored treats, “you should.” azriel reached in his pocket to pay you but you stopped him before he could, grabbing his hand and moving it away from his pocket and towards his chest, “it's on the house.”

“what? no. i should-”

“any friend of feyre’s is a friend of mine. you can pay next time.” before azriel could argue any more, you had already walked back into the kitchen leaving him alone at the counter. still he dropped a rather large bill in your tip jar, determined to pay.

---------

he walked back to the house of wind with a smile on his face, only for it to be replaced by a scowl when he saw cassian and nesta lounging on the couches with the rest of the inner circle.

“you’re late, brother.”

“cas if you don’t shut it i’ll rip your wings off.”

cassian visibly flinched at the threat, but still looked toward the bag of goodies, “whatcha get for me?”

“nothing,” azriel slapped his hand away, “you’re not pregnant are you?”

“i could be if you loved me more.”

the group erupted into laughter as he handed the bag to the high lady, “for you, sister.”

she began digging through the bag, “thanks, az! i can’t tell you how much i’ve been craving these.”

“it’s all she asks for.” sighed rhys, voice tired from his mate’s antics and new love of lemon tarts.

“oh, what's this?” feyre lifted a pastry into the air.

“mine. sorry, i forgot to take it out.”

“is that a lemon danish?” mor exclaimed, entirely perplexed as to why the shadowsinger knowingly purchased a treat, let alone a lemon-flavored one.

nesta scowled, “why are you freaking out over a lemon danish?”

“because azriel hates lemons?”

“you hate lemons?” asked, feyre.

“he’s hated lemons for as long as i can remember!” cassian jumped up, “cute cashier or something?”

“i like lemons!” argued azriel.

cassian just gave him a look, “then take a bite.”

“fine!” the shadowsinger argued, before sinking his teeth into the treat, immediately regretting the decision. It was entirely too sweet, too sour, and just not at all something he liked. His face twisted, clearly not enjoying the dessert, while his brothers cackled at his misfortune. “i hate you both.”

#Azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel fluff #azriel acotar #acotar imagine #nessian #Feysand

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cupcakeslushie · 3 months ago

Note

Bro

So I’ve been cooking on what to say about your KendraTello fic for a couple months now and I think I finally have some sort of semblance of thought that is shareable. First off, my friend once said that any form of media that makes you feel something is considered good media. And Broski, lemme tell ya. Your KendraTello AU makes me F e E l T h I n G s.

I have so much to say but for the instance of this comment, I see myself as Mikey in this situation. I have ridiculously high empathy and I’m studying to become a counselor while currently being in counseling myself. While I never had to deal with the struggles and the complete hell of being in an EXTREMELY toxic relationship like that, I do struggle with overcoming my own insecurities and crushing rescuer/complex. AKA I feel like I gotta save/be helpful to everybody or else I have no value.

So reading this little story has me like gripping my blanket in horror because it is just so well written that not only can I see the implications, but I can FEEL how the rewiring would have felt for Donnie. Like…*shudders* I get it. A bit. And trying to overcome that? To grow and learn how to trust people, especially those you considered to have hurt you? The brothers relearning how to love their traumatized brother and realizing nothing, nothing is ever going to be the same way again? It makes me want to cry and cradle Donnie and all of them so tightly. I get it, honey, I get it from both sides, and I am so so so sorry.

*holds up hands* Now I’m not trying to share this in any negative or trauma dumbing manner at ALL. If it came across as such, my sincerest apologies. I genuinely just wanted to commend you in your storytelling abilities for they truly are impelling on multiple accounts. I hope this message finds you well and is a reminder that you are leaving an impact in this world. You’re making a difference and I think that you’re honestly incredible. Sending my love and support to both you and your Donnie ✨🫂🧡🙏🏼

Sorry this took so long to reply back, I have a few asks in my inbox that I just like to scroll back through and ponder on, and this has been one of the ones I’ve been holding onto.

Thank you for being so open and honest, and real, I think that will really help in your own journey to become a counselor for others, because all of that helps people feel like their concerns and issues are actually being heard. I’m also on the highly empathetic spectrum, and it’s taken many years to come to terms with knowing when to put my needs and happiness on the forefront, instead of exhausting myself in trying to fix everyone else’s problems.

Every day we are bombarded with people all around the world that are struggling, and in need of help. We have so much more access than any other generation before us, and that can give us so much anxiety and helplessness, and make it feel like we aren’t doing enough to make things better. If you need to take a break from listening to the problems of your friends and family, or take a break from doomscrolling, because it’s all making you feel like you’re the worst, for not helping every single person that comes across your feed, then take a break, please. Trust that someone else is doing their part as well, and breathe.

It’s a delicate balance sometimes, but please remember that you always have worth, even if you’re only doing your best to exist and be healthy. You deserve rest and love too, and those are never things you should have to earn!

#rottmnt #ask slushie #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #kendratello au ask #kendratello au

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berryhobii · 1 year ago

Text

Dessert(jhs x reader)

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x black!female!reader

Warnings: established relationship, Smut(18+ but I don’t control what you consume), exhibitionism, s*x toys(bullet vibe), bathroom s*x, unprotected s*x, oral(f receiving), panty stuffing in mouth, doggyst*le, creamp*e, pet names(kitten), a little aftercare

A/N: Hi friends! I’m back with a little sum sum for all my Hobi stans. I’ve been listening to Hope World lately and it really made me realize how much I miss Hobi🤧🤧I didn’t really explicitly describe reader in this besides them having braids so feel free to imagine anything you want! Hope you enjoy! Criticism is greatly appreciated🩵🩵🩵

“You okay, kitten?” His saccharine voice pondered from the other side of the table.

You squinted your eyes, eyebrows furrowing at that dumb ass question.

“I’m fantastic, sunshine.” You gritted through your teeth, hand curling into a fist on the tabletop. You were gripping your glass at first but you were scared you’d break it from how hard you were holding it.

Hoseok shot you that beaming smile, the same one that warmed your heart and made you fall a little deeper in love with him.

But now you just wanted to slap it off.

“Are you sure? You seem tense.”

Cheeky bastard.

You crossed your legs, immediately regretting it since that made the vibrator press harder against your clit. You sucked in a breath, biting down hard on your lip to keep yourself from moaning.

How did you even get here?

Oh yeah, you promised Hoseok you’d do whatever he wanted if he went to that haunted house with you. Honestly, you thought he forgot about that since Halloween already passed but then he brought it up today. You thought he was just going to have you do something stupid or simple; like doing his laundry or prank calling someone.

Really, you didn’t expect this from your sweet boyfriend but a promise was a promise and you didn’t break those.

Damn your morals.

Hoseok had brought both of you out for a nice lunch at your favorite restaurant. So far, you almost moaned when giving the hostess your name, almost moaned again while giving the waiter your drink request, and now you were dangerously close to cumming. And oh no…..

Was that the waiter coming back to take your order?!

Hoseok could see how you attempted to straighten yourself up, a diabolical grin spreading across his face. This would be fun.

“Are you two ready to order?” The waiter asked once he got to your table, taking out his little notepad and a pen.

Your brown eyes pleaded at Hoseok to go first. If you spoke now, you’d definitely moan.

Gratefully, he wasn’t heartless so Hoseok ordered first. “I’ll take your seared salmon with potatoes and brussel sprouts. And a glass of red wine.” The waiter nodded and jotted that down before turning to you.

“And for you, miss?”

You cleared your dry throat. The vibrations weren’t that strong. You could do it!

“I’ll have the a-ahhhh….” You moaned as the vibrators grew even stronger, pleasuring pulsing down your legs all the way to your toes.

Your eyes cut to Hoseok who was innocently smiling. Motherfu—

He had a hand under the table, his thumb moving around the little bar on his phone that controlled the toy. He moved it up, bemused by how your eyes almost crossed. He felt your feet kick at him under the table, your legs always went crazy whenever you were in the throes of pleasure. He loved holding you down and watching you fight against him, it filled him with a wild thrill.

The waiter seemed honestly concerned. “Are you okay?”

Your smile was strained, palms starting to sweat. You were so fucking close but you couldn’t cum. Both you and Hoseok knew you were loud. You were surprised you were staying this quiet and put together. Public shenanigans weren’t really your thing but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t exhilarating.

You choked on another moan when Hoseok turned the vibe all the way up. You moved your braids to cover your face, turning your head away and covering your mouth with the back of your hand to stifle your noises. Foot tapping rapidly against the ground and eyes clenching shut, you tried your best to push down your impending orgasm. Your clit throbbed with need and your belly turned from both nerves and desire.

You were about to lose it.

“Probably a Charlie horse. She gets them sometimes.” Hoseok interjected before the waiter could take a closer look at you.

The waiter took that excuse. “Your order, miss?”

Deciding to take pity on you, Hosoek turned it down a little. You let out a breath, forcing out a “I’ll take the same.” That seemed like the easiest route right now and to be honest, you weren’t really listening to Hoseok’s order so hopefully it was something good.

The waiter nodded and gathered your menus. “I’ll be back with that soon.”

Once the waiter was out of earshot, you let out a moan in your palm.

Hoseok could pick up on all your little tells—you were about to cum.

“About to cum, kitten?”

You clenched your eyes shut, unspilled tears ready to overflow. Frantically nodding your head, you hoped he’d turn it down.

No chance.

Leaning over the table, he murmured, “go to the bathroom.”

There was no way you could walk there like this!

Hoseok must have known that because the vibrator suddenly shut off. You gasped, actually a little flustered at your orgasm fading away but relieved that he wouldn’t make you walk through a slightly busy restaurant like this.

Taking a few deep breaths, you nodded and stood to your feet, wobbling slightly but keeping yourself upright with a hand on the table. You adjusted your skirt, casting your boyfriend a look.

“You better not turn this thing on.”

Reading your expression loud and clear, he shot you a smile.

“Go ahead.”

Huffing, you sped walked over to the corner of the restaurant where the bathrooms were. Your panties stuck uncomfortably to you and the vibrator rubbed against your clit with every step.

Angels must have been smiling down on you because the bathroom was for a single person.

You softly closed the door, turning the lock before leaning against it. Letting out another breath, you moved to pull your skirt up over your hips before slipping your fingers into either side of your panties and pulling them down.

You glared at the little bullet vibrator nestled in the pocket of the garment. How could such a tiny thing cause you to almost lose your mind?

Speaking of things that made you lose your mind…

4 knocks hit the door behind you and you immediately knew it was Hoseok. Shuffling to turn around, you unlocked the door and opened it.

Hoseok grunted as your hand flew out to grip the front of his shirt, yanking him into the bathroom. The door closed and the lock clicked and before he knew it, he was pressed against the wood, lips on his.

He smiled against the kiss, hands moving down to grip at your ass. Spreading one of your cheeks, his other hand rubbed at your slit, groaning at how wet and sticky you were.

“Fuck, baby. You’re so wet. Did this really get you that excited?”

You huffed. “Stop talking and fuck me already.”

Never one to disappoint, Hoseok sprang into action. In a blur, you were moved and pushed back into the sink. Hoseok lifted you up on the sink, wrestling your panties off your legs. He paused for a brief second, a thought popping into his head.

You were about to complain when your panties were suddenly shoved into your mouth. You made a noise of surprise around them, eyes widening at your boyfriend who was still smiling.

“Just to keep you quiet. We don’t want anyone hearing you.” He leaned closer, eyes darkening and octave dropping. “Unless you want them to. Dirty girl.”

Your pussy clenched around nothing, a shudder of lust going up your back. You’ve never felt so turned on before. Your boyfriend had taken a sharp turn and god damn, if you didn’t love it.

You whined around the gag to which Hoseok smirked, pressing a kiss to the apple of your cheek.

“Don’t worry. I’ll give you what you want.”

Crouching down, Hoseok pushed your legs up by the backs of your knees to display your dripping cunt, lips latching onto your clit. Your moan was muffled, hands gripping the sink under you.

Hoseok hummed against your clit, the vibrations sending shocks all across your body. You knocked your head back against the mirror, eyes clenching shut as Hoseok slurped at your clit.

He flattened his tongue, bobbing his head up and down in fast movements against your throbbing nub. You kicked your legs out, the heels of your shoes hitting his shoulders. He slid his hands up to your calves, holding your legs in a V position.

You almost fell into the bowl of the sink from how your hips jerked. You were already so close again, all that teasing earlier paired with the thrill of getting caught was pushing you to the brink faster than you thought. Saliva soaked the panties in your mouth, almost as much as your arousal did previously.

Hoseok could feel your calves shaking in his hold, heard how your breath picked up and how you tried to hump against his face.

Wrapping his lips around your clit, he hollowed his cheeks, sucking the nub harshly.

You screamed against the gag as your orgasm crashed into you, your toes curling in your shoes and whole body shuddering in pleasure.

Hoseok delivered little kitten licks to your clit, guiding you through your orgasm until you were shaking and curling away from him.

He stood to his feet, hands fumbling with his belt to pull his pants down to his ankles. His hard cock sprang out, the tip wet with precum and those delicious veins pulsing. You wanted it down your throat.

Hoseok noticed your hungry stare, wrapping a hand around himself to pump his cock a few times. You moaned at watching the action, not so secretly loving when he did that.

He rubbed the head of his cock up and down your folds, slapping it against your sensitive clit. “Want it, baby?” He teased.

You frantically nodded, eyes pleading for him to fuck you. You reached out to wrap your arms around his shoulders, silently asking him to pick you up. He obliged, gripping your thighs and hauling you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist.

He lifted you a little bit higher to be able to grab his cock, lining himself up with your entrance. You took it upon yourself to slide down his cock, groaning as he split you open.

He threw his head back as your slippery walls wrapped around him, the rings on his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs, the slight burn only turning you on more.

He didn’t even have a chance to get himself together before you started bouncing up and down on his cock. He grunted out a strained moan.

“Fuck. That desperate, huh?” Taking control, he started moving his hips, meeting your bounces with his own thrusts. The head of his cock brushed past your sweet spot, that pressure building quickly in your belly again. Hoseok moaned as your walls sucked him back in every time he pulled out. “Bout to cum already? I love this greedy cunt. Always so wet and ready for me.” His teeth bit into your shoulder.

Your pussy gushed around him, your arousal dripping down his balls and causing a wet slap to sound off. Anyone walking past would definitely know what was happening behind these doors.

Hoseok could feel his own orgasm approaching. This little experiment had turned him on more than he thought it would. Seeing you so vulnerable, having your pleasure in the palm of his hand. Fuck, he wished he would have thought of this earlier.

He’d brave a thousand haunted houses if he could do this again.

“Fuck.” He cursed, unwrapping your legs from his waist and turning you around. You made a noise of surprise that shifted into a moan as his cock penetrated you again. You bent over, spreading your legs and arching your back. “I’m gonna cum. You want it? Want my cum deep in this tight cunt?”

Your hand slammed against the mirror, throwing your ass back against him, orgasm building higher and higher. You snaked your other hand between your legs, pressing two fingers to your clit to rub it in quick circles.

You moaned his name, muffled by your gag but he could understand it. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.

“Cum on my cock. Cum all over it.” He groaned, pushing his hips into you one, two, three more times before his cock throbbed and his cum spilled into your clenching walls.

You screamed as your second orgasm hit, sending waves of ecstasy all the way down to your toes. Your legs shook, almost buckling but his grip on you kept you from falling.

Moments passed as you two caught your breaths.

You pulled your panties out of your mouth, your tongue feeling dry and heavy.

Hoseok slowly pulled out of you, his cum dripping out of your spasming hole and making a little puddle on the floor. He felt his cock jump again but any longer in this bathroom and people would really start getting suspicious.

Hoseok tucked himself back into his pants. “Are you okay?” He asked as he went to grab some paper towels to wipe you down.

You nodded. “That was intense. I came so hard.”

“I felt it. You gripped me tighter than usual. I didn’t think you would like this. I was a little nervous honestly.” He admitted.

You adjusted your skirt, checking yourself in the mirror to make sure you didn’t look too fucked out. Obviously you did but hopefully no one would notice.

Turning around to face your boyfriend, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders again to pull him close. Pressing a loud smooch to his lips, you flashed him a bright smile.

“Let’s just hope we finished before the food got to the table.”

You walked out first. Luckily, no one acknowledged you, everyone still absorbed in their meals and conversation.

Once you got back to the table, you sat down, noticing the food and wine were already there. You sipped on your water, sighing as the refreshing drink wet your dry throat.

Hoseok came to sit down a few seconds later. “I’m starving.”

“I didn’t even hear your order but it looks good.”

You both picked up your forks, digging into the food before you.

Your eyes slowly lifted to meet Hoseok’s before laughter erupted between you two.

“It’s cold.” You giggled.

“Should we just get it to go?”

“Sounds good.”

Hoseok spotted the waiter, motioning for him to come over.

“Can we get the check and some—“ He cut himself off at the feeling of your foot running up the inside of his leg. The table was small enough so that your foot could reach his inner thigh, right where his cock rested in his pants.

He glanced over at you, a teasing grin on your face.

Oh you were gonna get it when you got home.

“Can we at least get dessert?” You fluttered your eyelashes. While that sounded innocent enough, he knew better.

“Of course. Can we get that to go too? I have to go home and feed my kitty.”

#bts #bts smut #bts x black reader #hoseok smut #bts fic #bts imagines #namjoon smut #jungkook smut #yoongi smut #jimin smut #taehyung smut #seokjin smut

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tinyundercover · 7 months ago

Text

pepper & felix

part seven

Felix goes to his audition.

MASTERPOST word count: 3.1k

“Alright. I’m ready when you are,” Pepper murmured.

This was, by far, the strangest thing Felix had done in his life.

He was cautious as he took his first step, paying close attention to the almost unnoticeable weight on his left shoulder. He heard Pepper suck in a sharp breath, and the borrower shifted closer to his neck, tightening a tiny hand onto the white collar of Felix’s button-up.

When Pepper had spoken, Felix had nearly jumped out of his skin. That was the clearest he had ever heard Pepper’s voice, and he was thrown off by the heaviness of it. The borrower was undeniably terrified, and Felix honestly would be too if he was suspended on the shoulder of an actual giant.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Felix asked, approaching his front door. Something tiny touched his neck, and it took him a second to realize that it was Pepper’s hand. “This works?”

“Yeah,” Pepper said quickly, shuffling even closer to Felix’s neck. Felix fought the urge to turn his head to look. In his peripheral vision, he could vaguely see that Pepper had wedged himself between the collar of Felix’s button up and the lip of his cardigan, providing security as well as camouflage. Smart. “Now let’s go, I don’t want to make you late.”

“Okay.” Felix took a deep breath and finally opened the front door. He was incredibly self-conscious of his posture and gait as he walked down the hall of his apartment complex, focusing on the little shifts and fidgets on his shoulder. Thankfully, Felix lived on the first floor, and they didn’t need to worry about any stairs.

As he stepped outside and breathed in the cool breeze, he wondered briefly, once again, why Pepper had made this insane offer in the first place. Pepper had never even been held by Felix before this (aside from their devastating first meeting), and the borrower had made it abundantly clear recently that he did not feel comfortable around humans at all. Felix had secretly hoped he’d be the exception, but bringing Pepper to his audition felt a little over-the-top.

“You doing okay?” Felix muttered as he found the sidewalk, walking briskly but steadily. He slipped his hands into his cardigan pocket in an attempt to keep them stable.

Pepper’s voice was bright and clear next to his ear. “Yeah, I… I haven’t been outside in a while. This is… this is nice.”

Felix’s eyebrows raised, and he was grateful that the weather was decent today. It never really occurred to him that Pepper didn’t get a lot of fresh air, but he supposed that made sense.

The walk to the university was fairly peaceful. Felix passed a few people on the way, and in those moments he felt as Pepper squirmed underneath the fabric of his cardigan to hide himself better. Once again, Felix was left to ponder why Pepper would put himself in a situation like this.

Felix hummed his audition song under his breath and fiddled with the strap of his messenger bag, which hung over the opposite shoulder to Pepper. For some reason, it was a bit embarrassing to seem so anxious in front of Pepper. For his vulnerable size, the borrower seemed to be quite emotionally secure.

“Fuck,” Felix mumbled. “I’m gonna fuck this up so bad.”

He suppressed a flinch as a small hand suddenly patted his neck. “No, you won’t,” Pepper’s assured, voice firm. “I’ve heard you sing. They’re gonna love you.”

Felix’s heart warmed, and he exhaled. “...Thank you.” The university came into view, and his heart immediately dropped back into his stomach. His hands tightened into fists in the pocket of his cardigan.

Wanting to focus on something else, he turned his attention back to the small weight swaying slightly on his shoulder. “So… what made you want to come with me, exactly?”

Pepper didn’t immediately respond, so Felix added, “I mean, it’s nice to have you here. But— I’m curious. This doesn’t really seem like something you’d normally do.”

A small throat cleared, and when Pepper spoke, his voice was hesitant. “I… I just want to get to know you more.”

Felix’s eyebrows raised curiously. “You don’t have to come all the way to my university just to get to know me,” he pointed out, trying to keep his voice polite and playful. He briefly wondered if Pepper was being entirely truthful, suspicion flickering in his mind. He pushed it away.

“I wanna see what your life is like,” Pepper added quietly. “And I haven’t been outside of the apartment in forever.”

Felix nodded in response, but his mind was still wandering. Surely that couldn’t be Pepper’s only reason for wanting to join Felix to his audition. The borrower had always been so tense and jumpy around the human… for good reason, too. Neither of them had forgotten how their first meeting had gone down.

Something had significantly changed in Pepper’s opinion on Felix in the past week. How could the borrower change from a twitchy, mouse-like, nervous wreck around Felix to sitting on his shoulder within a few days? All Felix had done for Pepper was offer him some food and leave him alone. Was that really enough to gain the trust of a borrower who had been engrained to fear humans since birth?

Or… did Pepper feel the strange tug towards Felix, that Felix felt towards him? The need to learn everything about him? The emotional bond that left him wanting to protect the borrower with his entire being?

Felix exhaled, immediately pushing away the confusing and uncomfortable thoughts. He had more important things to focus on right now.

–

Being outside for the first time in over a year was absolutely mesmerizing.

The cool breeze hitting Pepper’s skin was unexpected, but not unpleasant. In the walls, he experienced almost no air flow, and now he suddenly felt as if the wind was going to send him tumbling off of Felix’s shoulder.

Pepper could tell that Felix was trying to walk carefully, but to someone of Pepper’s size, the effort was basically useless. The borrower could feel the subtle rise and fall of Felix’s shoulder every time he took a step, making his heart drop. He greatly appreciated that Felix was walking slower than usual as they stepped foot onto campus.

Other humans filled the area, standing and chatting, sitting and studying, walking and texting. Pepper swallowed hard, subconsciously inching closer to Felix and huddling between Felix’s collar and cardigan. It didn’t conceal him completely, but as long as the other humans didn’t look too closely at Felix, he would stay out of sight.

“This is freaky,” he muttered into Felix’s ear.

Pepper vaguely noticed the shallowness of Felix’s breathing underneath him as the human entered a wide, beige building. A quick, steady thrum rose up next to Pepper’s ear, and after a moment he realized that was Felix’s pulse.

When Felix had asked Pepper why he had joined him, the borrower had struggled to respond. Truthfully, he just… felt drawn to Felix.

No, he just felt drawn to his soulmate. And since his soulmate cared so much about this strange audition, Pepper cared too. Even if his soulmate was a massive human with the power to kill him in a matter of seconds… Pepper truly wanted to see him succeed at the thing he was most passionate about.

A few humans lingered around the hallway ahead, but Felix suddenly avoided them, ducking into a long, barren hallway. Pepper blinked in confusion.

“You alright, man?” Pepper asked quizzically, leaning forward to see Felix’s face better. Once he remembered just how tall Felix was (and how equally long the drop from his shoulder was), he swallowed, shuffling back an inch.

Felix was paler than usual. “Yeah, I…” He lifted a hand to his face, closing his eyes. “Fuck. I don’t want to do this.”

Pepper’s eyebrows shot up. Felix had rambled about this audition and this theater and mermaids (for some reason?) for over an hour last night, and although Pepper barely understood any of it, he could tell that it was important to him.

“Yes you do,” Pepper argued. Felix swallowed, and strangely enough, Pepper could see it. “You’ve practiced for weeks. This is everything to you.”

The human’s voice trembled as he spoke. “Exactly, I… I just don’t feel prepared for this at all, I’m gonna fuck it up, I’m gonna…”

“We just talked about this on the walk here,” Pepper pointed out, gray eyes searching Felix’s jawline. It was oddly fascinating to see a human scared, even if it hurt him a little to know that it was Felix. “Not to sound like a stalker, or anything… but… I’ve been hearing you sing for a year. So I know you’re talented.”

Felix blinked. He still couldn’t turn to face Pepper directly, his blue eyes lingering on the wall across from him.

“You have an incredible voice,” Pepper continued, reaching over to pat Felix’s neck. “I wouldn’t have come with you if I thought you were gonna fail. I want to see them cast you as the mermaid.”

Felix snorted, as if he was laughing at a joke, but Pepper didn’t really get it. “Ah— well, I’m not…” The human faltered, the corners of his lips twitching into a smile. “Um… thanks, Pepper.”

Pepper nodded encouragingly. “This is why I’m here. How much time do you have?”

“Um…” Felix tugged his phone from his pocket, peering down at it. “Ten minutes.”

“Okay.” The borrower suddenly chewed his lip. “Should I hide in your bag now?”

“Uh— oh, right.” Felix shot a look down the hallway, ensuring that nobody was around, before he opened the flap of his messenger bag. Pepper leaned forward, craning his neck to see the bag, which rested on Felix’s opposite hip. His heart swelled when he noticed the towel that had been stuffed into the bag for padding.

Felix hesitated, his hand twitching towards his shoulder. “You ready?”

“Yeah.” Pepper took a deep breath, forcing his stomach to settle as the massive hand approached. Felix held his palm up in front of his shoulder, and as Pepper stared blankly at it, he thought, I will never get used to this.

It made him feel better to know that in a few seconds he would be safely secured in a bag, human-free. Steadying himself, Pepper stepped off into Felix’s waiting palm.

Felix moved carefully and slowly. Pepper immediately clung to the fingers around him, vaguely aware that they were his size, and was more than happy to step off five seconds later onto a folded black towel.

“Good luck in there,” the borrower called up, stomach suddenly twisting to see Felix from such a low angle. “You’re gonna do great. Remember that!”

Felix let out a quick exhale, shoulders falling. Pepper hoped he hadn’t stressed the human out by wobbling on his shoulder for the last fifteen minutes. “Thanks, Pepper.” His voice was grateful. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

Gently, the flap of the messenger bag closed, and Pepper was left alone. A trickle of light crept through the top of the bag, allowing the borrower to see a bit of his surroundings.

A black towel scrunched up around him, providing him slight protection from the massive yellow binder, four times his height. Pepper inched away from it slightly, uncomfortable with its size.

A granola bar sat to his left, next to a small white bottle of hand sanitizer. Pepper supposed he should be grateful that Felix’s messenger bag was almost empty.

He could feel the shift of the bag around him, and the slight sway as Felix walked. Pepper distantly hoped that Felix had believed him when he said he had an incredible voice.

“Oh! Felix!”

“Felix!”

The sway of the messenger bag halted as Felix stopped, turning. Pepper’s ears tuned in to the sound of a female voice— no— two female voices. He squinted, trying to differentiate between the two as they spoke.

“Felix—! You’re auditioning soon, right?”

“Me and Breanna just finished our auditions— are you nervous?”

Felix’s voice wobbled. “Yeah, I’m— I’m a little scared,” Felix admitted. “How did your auditions go?”

Pepper hastily shoved at the towel, trying to form it into a pile.

“It was fine,” someone— Breanna?— said. “I forgot some of my lyrics, but I think I played it off okay.”

“You did great,” the other girl interjected. Her voice was sharper than either Felix’s or Breanna’s. “I could hear you in the waiting room. If you don’t get Ursula I will literally riot.”

Pepper huffed as he finally climbed to the top of his newly-made hill, knees digging into the towel. He peeked through a small sliver between the flap and the edge of the bag, trying to locate the source of the voices.

Across from Felix two girls stood, relatively the same height but much shorter than Felix. The sharp-voiced girl had fair skin and long, black, silky hair, vaguely reminding Pepper of a vampire he had seen in a movie once. A girl with dark skin and a soft smile stood next to her, holding a hand to her face.

“Thank you— god, I really hope I get Ursula. And you did amazing, Alice, I just know you’re gonna be Ariel.” Breanna turned to Felix again, eyes bright. “Don’t be nervous. You’re gonna do awesome. Just get in there and blow them away.”

“Thank you,” Felix responded, voice numb. “I hope so.”

Alice and Breanna offered Felix some last quick words of encouragement before leaving together. Felix took a deep breath before continuing down the hallway, where Pepper observed three or four other humans, quiet and tense, lingering outside a door. Felix stopped a small distance away, leaning against the wall, and after a moment a skinny girl left the room with a white binder tucked under her arm.

“Ricky?” A voice called from within the room, too far for Pepper to see clearly. A boy quickly entered and shut the door behind him with a click, leaving the hallway in silence. So, that’s where the auditions are happening?

Even from inside the messenger bag, Pepper could sense Felix’s anxiety. The human was swaying slightly, enough to subtly rock the bag back and forth, and if Pepper really focused he could hear the fiddling of Felix’s fingers.

The other boy’s voice, muffled by the door, filled the hallway in song. Felix took another deep breath.

Pepper felt bad for Felix, knowing that he was about to feel judged by the students in the hallway as well. However, a small part of him was happy, knowing that the borrower would be able to listen in on Felix’s audition. Despite still being unsure of what was going on, Pepper was rooting for him.

The other boy– Ricky– finished his song, and it only took another minute for him to exit the room, smirking. Pepper didn’t think he was that good.

“Felix?”

It took a concerningly long time for the messenger bag’s flap to open. Pepper felt the shifting of the fabric around him and looked up, seeing Felix’s pale face, and the borrower gave him a thumbs up. The human sent him a gentle but nervous smile as he closed his hand around his yellow binder.

Pepper didn’t risk saying anything out loud, but he placed a quick hand on Felix’s thumb, giving it a few quick pats. The human exhaled shakily in response.

Felix was cautious not to knock into Pepper as he pulled out his binder and carefully shut the flap of his bag. A moment later, the messenger bag was shifting and lowering, until it was placed gently on the floor against the wall. Pepper quickly scrambled up to peek outside.

Seeing Felix’s long legs at floor level sent a small jolt of stress into Pepper’s heart, but he quickly ignored it. The door shut behind Felix after a moment, and Pepper settled against the towel, listening intently.

When Felix began singing, Pepper’s lips couldn’t help but smile. The human’s voice, although slightly shaky, was clear and defined through the door.

Pepper never got to hear Felix sing all out before, considering the human chose to hum or sing softly for the sake of not disturbing his neighbors. Knowing that Felix was capable of projecting made the borrower’s heart swell. My soulmate is so talented.

The song was short and simple, but it told a story. Pepper’s heart was racing when his human finally went quiet after a long, pretty note. It’s over?

Felix had said it would be short, but Pepper wasn’t actually expecting to see him leave the room so quickly. Long, nervous fingers fiddled with his yellow binder as Felix approached, swiftly kneeling down in front of the bag to pick it up.

Woah. Pepper kept forgetting just how massive and fast Felix was. Swallowing down a bit of adrenaline, he perked up as Felix picked up the messenger bag, hooking it onto his shoulder and beginning to walk down the hallway.

The very second they were out of earshot and the flap above him opened, Pepper scrambled to his feet, beaming up. “You did great!”

“Ah, I don’t know,” Felix said doubtfully, dropping a hand inside. Pepper suppressed a flinch, then carefully stepped onto Felix’s awaiting palm. “They didn’t seem to like me.”

“Then they’re just idiots,” Pepper snorted immediately. He sat down and crossed his legs, gingerly holding onto Felix’s thumb as he was lifted to eye level. “I could hear you, and let me tell you, you fucking rocked it.”

A pink tinge crossed Felix’s face. “I wish the room was soundproof,” he mumbled.

“You’re definitely getting the part,” Pepper promised. “The guy that went before you definitely will not.”

Felix let out a breathy, amused laugh. “Wha…? Ricky wasn’t that bad.”

“Yeah, but you were better.” Pepper didn’t know much about singing, but he could tell when someone sounded good. Catching sight of Felix’s uneasy expression, the borrower tried to shove away his competitiveness for his sake. “It’s okay, though. What matters is that you went in there and did your best.”

Blue eyes blinked down at him. “Thank you,” Felix said genuinely. “I really appreciate you coming with me. It’s helped a lot more than you think.”

Pepper beamed up at him. “Of course. I’m glad I did.” He stiffened as a door shut loudly nearby, and he let out a long exhale, pressure settling down onto his shoulders like a blanket. “But let’s go home. I’ve had enough of being outside for today.”

Felix laughed sympathetically before carefully moving the borrower to his shoulder. “Sure thing, Pepper.”

--------

grrrr idk why i'm so unhappy with this chapter. i changed it a couple times and hopefully it turned out ok??

eeee but its fun to write pepper and felix learning how to work together :') my favs

TAGLIST: @smallsday @compact-katrina @satethesatelite @taters169 @entomolog-t

#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #pepper & felix #g/t soulmates

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woongisi · 1 year ago

Text

Freudian Slips // Kim Taerae

switch!Kim Taerae x switch!fem!Reader // SMUT, some angst & fluff

WC// 5.9k

Synopsis// Taerae tried to stay respectful and ignore the fact he wanted his cock down your throat. Sometimes, his own thoughts betray him.

Warnings// angst, name calling, yelling, pussy eating, porn w/ (some) plot, "good girl", nipple play, marking, cumming in pants, blowjob, best friends to lovers

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

"Tae, I'm getting hungryyyyy."

The two of you had been on the floor in front of the couch, compromising comfort in many regards. Your head had been resting on Taerae’s lap for some number of hours while he watched whatever shows graced the food channels of the tv. You didn't mind, it was quiet sans the occasional chit chatting or his gentle humming when he decided it was a bit too silent.

Truthfully, Taerae’s focus on the tv was less out of interest and more out of necessity. Sure, he loved watching the guys in the shows travel the world to try new restaurants and making notes of ones he would likely never visit. Unfortunately for him, the proximity of your face to his groin and the gradation of light across your face bothered him more than he was willing to admit to himself. He couldn't look at you long enough for his mind to begin to wander or he knew he'd risk making you uncomfortable. Had he done that, Taerae would've left, screamed into his pillow, and dedicated his life to solitude.

“Dude, you have to quit watching these before I’ve had dinner.” You groaned and pulled yourself to an upright position much to Taerae’s simultaneous relief and disappointment. “I feel like I’m gonna die.”

“Well what have you been into lately?”

You pondered for a moment, beginning to spout off all the dishes you'd made and places you'd been that really hit the spot. Unintentionally egging on a discussion of the world’s many varieties of food for the next 10 minutes.

Once your stomach twisted again, you slammed your fist against the coach and shushed him. “Ok. Enough. My stomach is digesting itself. So… what's for dinner? I'm down for whatever.”

“You.”

Taerae had spoken without a single prior thought, far too lost in the depths of his brain filled with food and… lust.

The confused and conflicted face you hit him with was enough to bring realization to what he'd just said. The poor boy’s heart dropped with his face red hot in embarrassment.

“I- I meant… I meant you can decide! I'm… I'm also down for whatever…!” He was already preparing to get up and leave on the assumption you'd want him to.

“Taerae. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Your initial reaction was to snap at him. “Seriously, ask yourself if that was appropriate, at all. Are you really just as sex depraved as every other guy?” You shoved your face into your hands. “Jesus Christ, dude.”

You almost caught yourself off guard with your own reaction. First and foremost you'd felt violated and angry… which hadn't yet begun to subside.

“I'm sorry- Really, I didn't mean-” Guilt sat heavy on Taerae’s mind, hurt, but feeling the reaction was what he deserved after all.

“Shut up. Just… just quit. All you men are the same. Forgive me for even trying. Or.. or wasting my time. Or yours. Whatever the hell we've been doing! Half a decade with you for this?” Deep down you knew you were being too harsh. You just weren't willing to get hurt again. A history of shitty men catcalling you, all your male friends ending up just wanting you for sex, just overall sleaze left you defensive.

Taerae remained silent, unable to form any words with sharp tears pricking at his eyes. By now he'd already backed up and moved to his knees, beginning to stand up.

“It's embarrassing, honestly. For you. I truly can't wait for the day I’m more than a damn hole to people.” You continued your rant, yet to notice the fat tears that had started rolling down Taerae's cheeks. “Quit thinking with your dick! I didn't think you were like that. It's just fucking disgusting. Why do I try anymore, Taerae you- you…”

Your eyebrows furrowed in surprise when his shame was no longer capable of being ignored. He slumped back to his knees in defeat, choking back cries, something that often failed and led to a weak sob. “I'll go… maybe you're right. I- I'm sorry again. I just…. just… never mind. You can block my number if you want…” Nearly every other word was interrupted with a sniffle or painfully restricted heave of his chest.

Your gaze fell more softly upon him. You hated to admit he… kinda looked pretty like this. “No,” you huffed and frowned with the awful knowing feeling that set deep in your chest, reaching to rest a hand on his knee. “I'm the one that should-”

Taerae cut you off sharply, “No!” He flinched back from your touch as if even coming in contact with you would kill him. “It's my fault I-”

“God, shut up!” Your voice raised again which did, indeed, shut him up.

You'd known Taerae for a number of years now. You'd just graduated college together, and had met him when he transferred to your high school in your senior year.

Back then you didn't see him for at least two weeks but you always heard murmurs about some new kid. You shared no classes, but word spread fast. A new kid is a new kid, your graduating class hadn't had one in years. Rumors were pretty mild compared to the usual gossip. The new kid was too quiet, the new kid came from overseas, the new kid was kinda hot but not really their type. Too nice and too passive. You knew from the start you wanted to meet him one day.

During the first fire drill of the year, you did. An unfamiliar face caught your eye in the grouping adjacent to yours. He was looking straight to the ground, fidgeting with the silver ring on his left pinky. It seemed like it spun. Most of the other kids were on their phones or talking, the teachers had given up on quieting them down pretty quickly.

You had snuck into his group, greeted a couple classmates you know alright, and placed yourself right in front of him.

“Hey, are you the new kid? Tae… Taetae? Raerae…?”

He had looked up from the ground with a small startle and nodded shyly. “Uh… Taerae… yeah.” He looked off to the side. “Why do you ask…?”

“Oh, I was just curious. I’d heard people talking about you and wanted to know what was up. I'm y/n by the way.” You cocked your head to the side to teasingly meet his gaze.

He was, as the other girls described, kinda hot. But… maybe he was your type? His dark brown hair hung across his forehead, straight and well kept. His deep brown eyes weren't eager to meet yours but you were glad to meet his. Neither of you knew just how pivotal that fire drill would be.

The teachers had signaled the all clear and just like that you were gone, yelling back that you liked his glasses and that he should come find you at lunch.

And find you at lunch he did. He had decided in the hours between that you couldn't be so bad. You didn't ridicule him for being so quiet, you didn't treat him like an animal to be oohed and ahhed at. Within a few weeks he'd developed a crush on you but pushed it to the recesses of his brain. You were his only friend at the school and he had studying to focus on. You, he thought, were too good for him anyways.

In the following years you grew to be attached at the hip. Always berated with questions as to if the two of you were dating, you both answered in equal shock with “Ewww!!!” and “I would never”... which had bothered him a little more than he liked to admit.

You spent lunch together. You spent time between classes together. Occasionally, you skipped class together. You spent your whole summer inseparable until the day you started your final year of college. And when that ended, you threw your graduation parties together. You had learned so much during those years. He had learned everything about you. Your dreams, your fears, your rocky history with men, what made you angry, what food you loved and hated, your favorite spots in town… everything.

The years that flash across your mind in only seconds snapped you back to the present situation.

In that short time, your mind had switched from the hurt you felt with others to fear. Fear that you were about to lose the best thing you ever had. Your best friend.

“Taerae. Taerae, come here…” You crawled over to him and, despite his protests, wrapped your arms around him. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I… I know you didn't mean to upset me.”

The boy’s tears had begun to flow openly and he was sobbing into the crook of your neck and shoulder. Sputtering apologies for getting tears and snot all over your shirt, pressing into your form.

“You've always been so sweet to me, even when I was messing with you and even when I didn't deserve it.” Every sentence you spoke drove him to be a complete and utter mess. You squeezed him tightly, securely, apologetically. “It was too much. The way I just yelled at you… It just struck a chord. I'm sorry. Nobody's ever treated me like you do.”

You said nothing more. Taerae had never seemed so small beneath your hold. You ran your hands through his wavy hair, hair that he recently had lightened to a lovely golden brown hue. With no lack of effort on your end, you managed to get his glasses off of his face and placed them on the carpeted floor beside you. You wanted to cry too. You wanted to cry and just say you were sorry over and over again. You resisted it even if only barely. The two of you never fought. Never.

When he calmed down enough, you let him go and gave his shoulder a tiny nudge. “Come on. Look at me.” Reluctantly he did.

His pretty brown eyes were puffy, blown wide, and glistening as he looked to you. “You… you don't hate me now?” Taerae's voice was meek in a way you hadn't seen since his last breakup. “I understand if you do…”

You spoke slowly, deliberately, and carefully to avoid revealing the extent in which he was breaking your heart right now. “Please. Hush.” You wiped the tears from his eyes with the knuckle of your finger. “I know you too well… I could never hate you. You're too kind, too gentle, too…”

Your next words came out in unison.

“Pathetic.”

“Perfect.”

Taerae's shocked expression was hardly repressed. “Perfect…? No. No no no, I'm anything but that. I'm nothing. Not compared to you.”

“Please don't make me tell you to shut up again. Hey… you're wearing the same sweater you were wearing when we met.”

“You remember that…?”

“I couldn't forget it if I tried to. You changed my life. We've done practically everything together for 5 years. If I lost you I don't think I'd ever be the same. Besides, it just looks so cute on you.”

Silence hung heavy in the air except for the background noise of Guy Fieri leaking from the television. All you two could do was stare at each other in a confusing meld of emotions. You fumbled for the remote, placing the tv on mute before you spoke.

“Hey.”

“Yeah, y/n…?”

“Would it be weird if I told you I'm in love with you?”

At that very moment Taerae felt like he had to be delusional. Maybe dead. Whatever he felt, there was no way you just said that to him.

“What…?”

It was your turn to shy away from his gaze.

“D- Do you mean it? Please don't toy with me like this. I can't take it. Please please don't do this to me. Don't break my heart.”

“You know I mean it, Tae. Do I lie to you?”

Taerae’s heart was stuck in his throat. Tears that never truly stopped had started once more. This time, accompanied by his smile that always extended ear to ear.

“Oh my god. Oh my god!” Taerae was absolutely beaming, giggling like a little kid. “I've dreamt about this day. I've liked you for years. I always pushed it away, thinking you'd never like me like that. You were seriously out of my league. Still are.”

Suddenly, you were pulled into a tight hug. You could feel his heart hammering in his chest. You'd be able to feel him crying too, if it weren't for the fabric of your shirt already being soaked.

“Oh, y/n. You were the first person in this city to treat me like I mattered. I've never truly been able to ignore my feelings, but… when you were laying there. So peaceful. So at ease with your head secure in my lap. I just wanted to love you.”

He paused only long enough to take a deep breath.

“I've always loved you but I wanted to love you. I wanted you to be mine and only mine. To hold you, to comfort you, protect you. Your pretty little face putting so much trust in me. I shouldn't be speaking like it was in the past. I want to. Present tense. I want to fall asleep with you and then every morning I want to wake up with you.”

Taerae’s next words were considered carefully.

“If we're bearing it all, I should admit this too. Earlier… it was a slip of the mouth but I meant it in a way. It wasn't some filthy joke to try and get under your skin or in your pants. But… I do want you that way. I guess… sexually… I just didn't want you to find out in such a way and I needed you to hear that I really care for you and wasn't just riled up because your face was near my bits.”

“Alright, that's enough.” You bit your lip and grabbed his left hand. The one he wore the spinning ring on way back then. “I want to kiss you. I can't talk anymore. I need you to feel that I love you. So, please. Can I kiss you?”

Taerae groaned in relief and giggled. “I've waited 5 years for this. God. You know my ex from last year? She was pretty and all but through all that I only wanted you. All that just to say… kiss me. I'm almost begging you to.”

The first connection of your lips was eager but soft, and sent shockwaves through your bodies. This is what you'd been missing. This is what he'd been missing. No amount of hot flings could've ever prepared you for how it was to kiss Taerae.

“Thank you.” You whispered against him. It only took a moment's time for your lips to clash again, this time more passionately. He tasted faintly of caramel and dark brewed coffee. The scent you caught from the collar of his shirt was new and sickeningly intoxicating. You were used to his natural scent by now and had always enjoyed it, but smelling it now with the velvety rich perfume was an entirely different sensation.

You weren't sure how experienced your dear friend was, but you were sure he'd never kissed anyone like this. His lips were pillowy and unexpectedly soft. Contradicting his generally unassertive nature, Taerae had decided there was enough surface level kissing. The surprise of him attempting to push his tongue into your mouth caught you off guard, causing you to yield easily. A soft whine rose from your throat, egging Taerae on.

“Having fun, yeah?” He chided at you, his typical humor coming back to him.

“Having fun, yeah?” You mocked. “Just keep kissing me, pretty boy.”

There were no complaints to be had on that command. One hand firmly on your back and the other holding the side of your face, Taerae's presence was domineering. The way his hands spread so far across you had you acutely aware of just how large they really are. You desperately wanted to know what those hands could do, but patience was a virtue you had to exercise.

“You taste so good, Tae~�� Your face was red hot, almost humiliatingly so. Each time you pulled away from each other, saliva hung between you in heavy strands. You hadn't expected to be kissing your best friend, nor had you expected you'd be on the floor if it ever were to happen. Taerae leaned forward, guiding you carefully to rest your back against the front of the couch.

Taerae broke the kiss, both of your lips growing red. You let out a whine of dismay which was quickly silenced by him latching on to your neck, just below your ear. Taerae's warm breath against your skin made you shiver and you moved to grab on to the sleeve of his sweater.

“Shit- Tae, don't, I have to work tomorrow.” Despite your protests, you'd subconsciously craned your neck to grant him easy access.

“Hm?” He nipped lightly at your flesh. “Waited all this time but you want me to stop now?

“Fine, but if anyone says a word to me you'll never hear the end of it.”

“Hm. I can live with that.”

His onslaught against your neck was relentless, moving his way down toward your collarbones. Red and purple hues were now flowering on the expanse of your skin in deliberately placed blotches.

“Hey, switch it up.” You tapped his arm to get his attention, your message conveyed easily enough. Adjusting your respective positions and climbing onto the couch, you were now straddling Taerae’s hips. You cupped his face, lightly caressing his cheeks with your thumb. Your eyes fell upon him with adoration, taking in the views of his furrowed brows, glossy eyes, and blushing cheeks. With a loving sigh, you granted a small kiss to his cheek before taking his lips into yours once more.

You grasped one of his hands, guiding it to hover just above your chest. Between kisses you assured him it was alright for him to touch you, which he was happy to accept. Your breath hitched once he took your breast into his large hand and brushed his thumb across your nipple. The days in which you bothered to wear a bra around him had passed a couple years ago. Normally such a simple action wouldn't have brought much of a reaction, but this situation was far from ordinary. His massaging of your flesh was slow, almost hesitant, and he was clearly relishing it.

The kisses you exchanged were growing increasingly sloppy and desperate. Softly moaning and whimpering into each other's mouths, teeth occasionally scraping, tongue intertwining. Taerae was becoming increasingly excited, not only evidenced by his less coordinated movements but the growing bulge in his jeans as well. You took note of this and gave your hips an experimental roll. Taerae's brow twitched and he hissed, a small involuntary buck of his hips meeting.

“O-oh my god, y/n, hell.” He was hit with a sudden worry and shook his head slightly, now maintaining eye contact. “First. I know I want this… but are you sure you do? Really really sure? It's so sudden I… I don't want to pressure you into anything. I’d never forgive myself.”

“Idiot,” You chuckled. “I promise if I wasn't sure then I'd have stopped this by now. I want to be close to you, I want to feel you.”

Taerae flashed you a brilliant grin and settled his hands on your waist. You draped your arms over his shoulders, wrapping around to the back of his neck, and nestled your face against the crook of his neck. You swore you could almost feel his heart kiss a beat at the feeling of you licking a small stripe down the side of it.

“Just revenge.” You quipped, proceeding to suck circles into the delicate flesh and biting down gently.

“You gotta be trying to kill me, woman.” You granted him no audible reply.

You again started to move your hips against him, the friction of your panties and thin shorts against the rough denim sending a shock straight to your core. He was already becoming putty in your hands, pliant and gradually losing the dominant facade he'd earlier displayed. His hips came up to meet yours with breathy moans emitting from the two of you. Deciding you'd abused his poor neck enough, you pulled away from his neck. One hand now resting on his side, the other slipped under the thick sweater fabric but still above the white button up he donned beneath.

“Bet your ex never did this to you, hm?” Taerae about jumped out of his skin when your index and pointer finger pressed down on his nipple, rolling the sensitive bud beneath them.

He tossed his head back with a pathetic drawn out whimper. “Damnit, didn't know they were so fucking sensitive. You're right… but I’m so fucking glad you are now.” He swallowed his next breath hard and spoke shyly. “P-please, I like it, don't stop.”

Who were you to deny?

Your continued ministrations were of course pleasurable to you but nothing was quite as satisfying as the way Taerae was coming completely unraveled beneath you. His erection was straining painfully against his jeans now, every buck of his hips driving him just a bit more crazy, short noises of “ah, ah” falling loosely from his lips whenever you applied pressure to him again.

The grip your partner had on you was becoming almost painful but pleasantly so. Arousal filled eyes looking up admirably at you, his mind was spinning.

“Wait, wait, I'm close- so close.” Taerae warned but groaned at the sudden loss of friction when you stilled your hips.

“What's wrong? You wouldn't wanna be done already would you?” It was your turn to tease.

He shook his head and you pressed your forehead against his.

“I've got a question , Tae. You ever wondered what I taste like?”

“God, yes, s-so many times.”

“Right, then I've got an idea. Taerae. Do you wanna eat me out?”

“Fuck. Yes. Is that even a question?”

Taerae took his position back on the floor, legs folded neatly beneath him. You were lounging against the back of the couch with legs open wide to grant him access. Taerae ran his hands along your thighs. He'd seen them many times before, years of ignoring how much he wondered how they'd feel.

“Come on,” You whined, “not to be all impatient but I really would love some relief right about now.”

Taerae hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of your shorts, urging you to lift your hips, and pulled them off of you. He swore his mouth watered at the sight of you. Your underwear were simple, your typical bikini style. They were sky blue, ribbed cotton, with a tiny white bow right on the middle of the waistband.

“Ah, cute.” Taerae laughed lightly and leaned in, placing a kiss on your inner thigh. “Never took you for someone to wear anything but skin tone panties.”

“You've… thought about it?” You looked to the side shyly as if he was looking at your face anyways.

“Mhm. Thought about a lot of things.”

Taerae left sloppy open-mouthed kisses along the inside of your thighs, pulling at the skin softly with his teeth. He took in every little twitch of your muscles and every little noise you made.

“Alright alright, I'll stop teasing.”

Taerae removed your panties, biting his bottom lip harshly. You squirmed, self conscious under the intensity of his gaze.

“Fuckin’ beautiful…” He muttered under his breath and gave your clit a playful lick which made you jump. Arms situated on either side of your hips, Taerae delved into you eagerly, coating the lower half of his face in your juices in little time. “Baby, you're so wet, shit.”

You ran one hand through his fluffy hair, assuring that it was all because of him, all for him. He granted you a sloppy lick along the entirety of your cunt eagerly. He nuzzled into you, tongue delving into your core. Every movement felt electric to you, drowning in the sensation of his nose bumping into your clit, losing yourself more and more when you focused in on the sounds of his mouth against you and the way he panted whenever he paused to catch his breath. One of your hands was pressed against your mouth to stifle your moans while the other grabbed at Taerae’s hair.

You yanked at the locks unintentionally harsh when Taerae’s lips latched onto your clit, sucking eagerly with his tongue pressing against it lightly. The sting of his scalp solicited a choked groan deep from his throat. You took note of it, realizing there was definitely a reason he enjoyed it so much when you played with his hair all the time. Cute.

Taerae had yet to notice the fact he was rutting his hips against the couch, far too focused on eating you out as if he'd never get the chance again. For all he knew, he wouldn't. He removed his right hand from your leg and dipped two fingers into your opening, plunging them in and out progressively deeper as they were coated with your wetness. You'd given up on keeping quiet by now, the hand previously over your mouth now pinching your nipple through your shirt.

“Feels so good,” You gasped out. Taerae curled his fingers, eventually locating the spot that made you cry out. You felt him smile, narrowing in on it and using his free hand to lightly press his palm flat over your pubic bone.

“There you go, just like that.” He purred, picking up his pace. Your chest was heaving, your mind reeling and leaving you wondering where he learnt this and how the hell he got so good at it. His ex crossed your mind but you couldn't be bothered to feel jealous at the moment. Not when the callused pads of his fingers were abusing your g-spot.

“Tae, I'm gonna- Please please just don't stop!” You begged incoherently to him. Taerae’s hips stuttered against the couch, not realizing just how close he was until it was too late. He grunted, desperately chasing his high until he pushed over the edge, his seed spilling out to ruin the expensive denim of his jeans. His moans reverberated through your nerves, bringing you to ecstasy moments after he came. Your thighs shook and clamped around his skull which only encouraged him to ride through both of your orgasms.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you-” Taerae soaked in your praises, freeing himself from the grasp of your legs once you had calmed down.

“Good god, you're good.” You took deep breaths, trying to regain composure. Taerae stood up and leaned over you so he could kiss your forehead and hold your cheek.

“Thank you, love,” Taerae avoided eye contact and scratched his arm. “I, uhm, I may have finished… I’m really sorry.”

“Trade me places. Don’t apologize. Don't worry. I'll clean you up real nice.” You smirked.

If his situation didn't feel real before, it did now. You were looking up at Taerae, fumbling to undo his belt until you could remove it and toss it to the side. You handed him his glasses with the insistence he should be able to see you perfectly.

Taerae considered his words carefully. “This is crazy, all of this. I… think we're past the point of hiding anything. I've stayed up so many nights buried deep in a toy, pretending and wishing so badly that it was you. Now you're here, unzipping my pants…”

His statements made your ears hot while you instructed him to help you out, pulling his pants down to his ankles. He was just in his sweater and underwear now, navy blue plaid boxers complete with a sizable wet patch at the front.

“What else did you think about? Don't be shy. I wanna know.” You lightly squeezed the form of his dick with a mumble. “Such a mess you've made.”

“Well, I-” Taerae’s voice caught in his throat when you started to palm at his groin, agonizingly slow and deliberate. “You remember all those times some freak wouldn't leave you alone so you grabbed my hand and declared how you were taken?”

You placed a kiss just below his navel, right on his happy trail. “Of course I was happy to help you out before all else… but at night I’d always think about how small your hands felt around mine.”

You pulled his boxers down, enough for his dick to spring out and land against his stomach with a wet slap. A drawn out groan filled the room.

“Oh my- has anyone ever told you that your cock is beautiful?” It really was. He wasn't the longest, sitting at what you guessed was 6 inches, but he was girthy. His dick curved upward pleasantly, adorned with a couple prominent veins and a pale pink head. Everything was amplified by the thick white liquid coating the length of it.

You rested your head against his thigh, lazily stroking up and down, taking in the view, and smiling a little at the feeling of Taerae petting your hair. The moment was tender, uncharacteristically quiet. He looked at you like you were his whole world, whispering praises of how pretty you are, soaking in the sensations.

“Alright, I did say I’d clean you up, yeah?”

You licked a long stripe up the underside of Taerae's dick, gathering some amount of his seed on your tongue as you did so. You swallowed it eagerly and stuck out your tongue with an “ahh” to let him see there was nothing remaining. You continued your job with excitement, leaving small licks across the skin until the only residue left was your saliva.

You wrapped a hand around the base of his cock and took the tip into your mouth. You tongued at his slit, noting the way he shuddered. Neglecting to give any meaningful warning, you took a deep breath through your nose and pushed yourself down on his length, gagging a bit when the head touched the back of your throat.

“Fuck!” Taerae’s hand grabbed a fistful of your hair. “Where'd you learn to do that? Ngh- actually, don't tell me. I can't stand to t-think about your lips on anybody but me.”

You pulled your head off of him with a pop and looked up with pleading eyes.

“Please, I want you… in me.” You couldn't understand how you felt so bashful with Taerae considering how long you'd known him. You mulled over it for a moment, deciding it was reasonable enough to feel embarrassed to be begging any man for anything.

Something switched on within Taerae’s mind. “Alright, up.” He patted his thigh, guiding you to straddle him with the head of his cock brushing against your entrance.

“You sure, baby?” You nodded. “Ready? Promise? I want to hear you say it.”

“I promise, need you.”

“Good girl.”

Taerae used his hand to slide his cock between your folds, using the other to urge you to sink your hips down.

“A-ah, Taerae!” You cried and pressed your head into his neck. He swore he could've cum on the spot. You'd used his full name before. Plenty of times, really. Normally you were just calling for him across the room. Maybe scolding him for saying something dumb, or even yelling at him as you had done not even an hour prior. This was… different.

“Come on,” He gently pried you from his body. His eyes sparkling, looking at you like you were his entire world, pride swelling in his chest. “Hold on tight.”

You flung your arms around him happily, regaining your position by his throat. Taerae's hands grabbed firmly at your hips as he started to thrust in to you.

“Good god, so tight.” Taerae growled. The stretch was incredible, your walls clenching around him. The initial sting was soothed quickly. You could've sworn Taerae was made for you in every way. His personality, his care, the way your bodies slotted together, how satisfyingly he filled your cunt.

Both of you swore up and down you usually lasted longer but between the surges of emotion longing, you were reaching your peaks quite rapidly.

Taerae was basking in how you begged for him to speed up, unknowingly stroking his ego. He smirked with satisfaction, you were finally his… and he needed to hear it out loud.

“You want more?” His voice was low and velvety in your ears. “Right. Then tell me who's wrecking you? Who do you belong to?”

“You, Tae-” His nails dug into your sides with his thrusts intensifying swiftly. “Belong to you, don't want anyone else. Just Taerae-”

His hips snapped roughly upward, letting himself set a brutal pace.

“That's right, y/n. Mine. Don't need anybody else.”

Your ramblings had devolved to moans with the occasional coherent utterance of Taerae's name, thanks, and praises.

“Getting close, hon?” Taerae's breath was shaky and hot, his mind clouding with the pleasure that washed over him in waves.

You nodded fervently, pleading with him to keep going, to let you finish. Granting him permission to cum inside before he had even asked. With a series of high moans, your orgasm hit you like a semi, clamping your teeth down on the side of Taerae’s neck hard.

“Fuck!” Taerae yelped and planted himself firmly within you, pushed to his limit by the way you desperately rutted your hips against his in an attempt to drag out your high. His cum covered your walls in white hot ropes with every twitch of his cock, filling you up until it began to seep out of you and down to his balls.

For a few moments, everything was quiet other than both of your exhausted pants. You clung to him like he wasn't corporeal, like he was going to disappear if you let him go, feeling his heart beating forcefully beneath his sweater. You pulled off of him, mourning the loss of his cock and the sticky liquid that flowed freely from your hole.

Coming back to reality, insecurity grabbed hold of you cruelly and you held back tears.

“T-Taerae…?”

His hand rubbed your back reassuringly.

“Yes?”

“Do you still love me?”

“What kind of silly question- Nevermind.” Taerae squeezed you into a hug and wiggled back and forth. “Of course I do. Sure you just took me to another planet but I told you that's not the only reason I love you. I promise.”

Your stomach growled in the silence, reminding you of what had gotten you to this situation in the first place.

“I'm sorry again, Tae. I love you so so so much…”

Taerae made a noise of acknowledgement. “I love you too. Hey, you still hungry?”

“God damn I almost forgot. Can we get chinese?”

“What? You just had korean! But, if that's what you want then I guess so…”

“Oh, shut up!” You laughed and pinched Taerae wherever you could grab.

Taerae removed you from his arms, peppering tiny kisses all over your face and hands.

“Get up so we can clean up, alright? Then I’ll call in the order and you can take a nap. I'll wake you up when it gets here.”

You nodded happily, following him to the bathroom while he switched on the showerhead. You both tossed your shirts to the side and hopped under the hot water, embracing each other once again.

“Thanks for pissing me off, Tae.”

“Yeah. Thanks for not killing me on the spot.”

#[jo fucks zb1 ❄️]#[im back for more and also a zerose]#-----#zb1 x reader #zb1 smut #zerobaseone smut #kim taerae smut #taerae smut #zb1 scenarios #[long time no see]

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megs-98 · 10 months ago

Text

It's Always Been You

Finally posting the solstice/secret santa fic that i wrote for the lovely @smaranshakthi

big thank you to @justporo for helping me edit as this is the first fic that i've wrote

summary: tav left baldur's gate after the final battle but years later something... or someone, drew her back and she had to find out why

tags: dammon x f!reader (Tav), fluff, light makeout scene at the end, mostly just dammon being the sweetest boy

word count: 3.4k

It had been five years since the final battle in Baldur’s Gate when you and your companions had conquered the Absolute and the Dead Three’s Chosen. Five years since you had left the Gate in search of rediscovering yourself once you had been freed of the tadpole. It wasn’t all lonely though, Withers had summoned everyone back to your original campsite six months after the cult was defeated, which had given you a chance to reconnect with your friends. You found more companions and had seen spectacular new places with your most recent adventures. However, you felt that something was absent from your life the farther you got from the city. There was something absent in your heart, something that you weren’t able to find during your travels. That’s how you found yourself back in the city, staying in the Elfsong Tavern, just in time for the snowy season.

You had felt a natural, almost instinctive, pull back to Baldur’s Gate, though you were unsure why. With resolve, you start visiting your old acquaintances. Rolan at Ramzaithan’s Tower as well as Cal and Lia, Alfria. Oskar Fevras, who attempted very earnestly, to get you to commission a painting from him, and so many others. While you were happy to see everyone, there was still something itching at your brain, an itch that you couldn’t quite scratch. That’s how you found yourself having a glass of ale at the bar top of Elfsong. You were pondering what, or who, could have subconsciously pulled you back to your home city, when you accidentally overheard a conversation from two men sitting farther down the counter from you.

“Oi! Let me see that new blade of yours!”

“Ah, yeah, that tiefling did a damn fine job. Dammon, one of the best blacksmith’s I’ve ever worked with.” The man said as he pulled out a beautifully crafted silver dagger with a black leather hilt.

Your ears perked at the mention of Dammon. You silently cursed to yourself as you had forgotten to visit him earlier in the day due to the bustle you’d been swept up in. He had been someone you got on with so well during your quest to remove the tadpole, hells he had even helped Karlach with her infernal engine, granting her a little more time top side. A smile came to your lips as you reminisced meeting the tiefling for the first time.

It was only a few days into your adventure of finding a cure for the Mind Flayer tadpole. You had found other survivors from the Nautolid crash on the beach, quickly realizing that you had all been infected. You and your new companions spent a couple days searching the beach and wreckage for supplies when you decided to venture farther out, starting to head towards Baldur’s Gate. You had heard from a couple of tieflings that there was a nearby druid grove not too far north, where there was a healer. As your group headed north, you heard shouting and the beat of war drums from a pack of goblins. You and your group realized that the druid grove was under attack and had quickly sprang to action, helping dispatch the goblins, earning you thanks from the tiefling leader, Zevlor. He explained that they had been attacked by creature after creature after fleeing from Elturel after its descent to Avernus.

The tiefling had said that they were seeking refuge in the grove but with Archdruid Halsin missing after not returning with the scouts you fought the goblins with previously, Kagha was now commanding the grove, and she was ready to eject the tieflings. You agreed to find information about Kagha if you and your companions were able to see a healer and traders, with which Zevlor agreed. He pointed you towards the druid’s chambers to find a healer and towards The Hollow to find another tiefling named Dammon to trade with. You gave him your thanks as you and your new friends followed the dirt path further into the grove. You could hear the sounds of a hammer hitting metal get louder as you saw a man working at a makeshift forge. He was a man of medium build, blond hair, half shaved, tied back into a bun. Black horns, ridged skin you could barely see on his forearms from where he had his sleeves rolled up. Broad, muscular shoulders and the distinctive tiefling tail, which was twitching with frustration as the man cursed his less than stellar smithing conditions.

You waved to catch his attention as you approached. “Hi, I’m Tav. Zevlor said you had items to trade?”

“Ah, hello! I’m Dammon, we can’t thank you enough for helping take care of those nasty little creatures out there. Whatever repairs you need I can do and you can take a look at my wares. Discount included.” He smiled as he shook your hand. He beamed with pride when he talked about the pieces he had crafted. You couldn’t help but be a bit smitten by the man. The passion for his work showed in his brilliant blue eyes as he explained the different materials he had worked with, from Infernal iron in Avernus all the way to basic tin from when he had first started smithing. His tail started to wag slightly the more excited he got, you couldn’t help but think how cute it was. You had wanted to spend more of your time in the Grove talking with him, but you and your companions had found yourselves quested with finding Halsin and deposing Kagha by more people with limited time.

The night of the tiefling party quickly came to your mind as you were reminiscing. How Dammon hadn’t made an appearance, much to your dismay as you hadn’t thought you would see him again. Oh, how wrong you had been… Once your friends and you had made it into the Shadow Cursed Lands, the Harpers scouting the area quickly ushered your group to the Last Light Inn, a sanctuary within the afflicted area. You quickly realized that the tieflings, as many of them that had made it, were recuperating at the inn as well. After speaking with Jaheira, your group grabbed a drink from the boys working the bar and started making the rounds checking in with the tieflings. Rolan and Alfria filling you in on what had happened during their trek over, with you promising to do your best to bring everyone back, at the behest of Astarion, who reminded you that your little troupe already had enough on their plates.

As you made your way through the inn’s courtyard you heard the familiar beat of metal on metal as you walked closer to the barn. You quickened your step, the pace of your heartbeat also picking up, matching the beat coming from across the way. You had left the others behind, to find who was hammering away, elated to see that Dammon was there. He was safe.

He had his back to the entryway, working on some armor. You could see the muscles in his back and arms tensing as he worked the metal. The veins in his hands and forearms visible from where you stood. Callused hands firmly, but delicately, reshaping the metal back to robust condition. Dammon turned around once he noticed you standing there, the first thing you noticed was the sweat running down his brow, loose hair falling around his face, having come undone from his bun. The way he looked up at you half lidded eyes as he pushed the hair back out of his face as he walked over almost causing you to come undone. A smile graced his mouth as he saw you, tail lifted and wagging, showing his excitement at seeing you again.

“Dammon! I can’t believe you’re here, I was worried I wouldn’t get the chance to see you again..” You caught yourself from giving him a hug, not wanting to overstep his boundaries, instead placing your hands on his arms.

He let out a low chuckle, “Oh, Tav, please, the Hells couldn’t keep me. You didn’t think I’d let some cult get me, did you?” He winked as he patted your hands. You felt his tail trying to curl around your ankle, a redness coming to both of your faces as the rest of your group caught up to you, greeting the tiefling. The two of you were able to continue your conversation a little longer at the inn with Dammon joining you at the bar. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you saw your group of friends finally relaxing, even if just for a short moment. Having a drink, laughing with each other as they ate their dinner. You felt Dammon’s shoulder against yours as he sat down, causing you to look over at him. You were met with him already looking at you, a smile on his face. Neither of you moved, both your eyes jumping from irises to lips, unsure of what to do. Your impassioned thoughts of the man were quickly pulled from you as you heard Karlach booming with laughter, causing you to turn to see what had the barbarian so happy. You didn’t know what was going on but you were happy with where you were, putting your hand on Dammon’s, leaning into his shoulder more, earning you a content sigh from the tiefling. It didn’t matter to you that it was a short lived reunion, you were just glad he was there and safe.

As if you had deja vu, your second reunion with Dammon, in Baldur’s Gate, had been similar. You were unsure if he had made it to the city, worried you might not see him again, until you heard the familiar sounds of a forge as you walked around the city with your friends. Cautiously, you and your group approached the workshop and heard a man cursing to himself as he grabbed a new tool. You saw a familiar set of broad shoulders working over a sword and realized that Dammon had made it, had even found himself a forge to get back to work.

You yelled his name, causing him to turn around, smiling as soon as he saw you.

“Ah, there she is! The hero of the Grove, now the hero of the Shadowlands. It’s good to see you again.” Dammon happily said to you as you found him at his new forge, Forge of the Nine.

“Hey, wow! Look at this setup. It looks great, Dammon. It’s incredible to see you here, and safe.” You gave him a tight hug, not wanting to let go. “Could I trouble you for some repairs?” You asked as you held up your beat up sword after he had given everyone in the group a small hug.

Dammon smiled as he grabbed all the different weapons you and your companions needed fixed. “Let’s take a look at that armor too.”

He motioned to you to lift your arms as he inspected the breastplate you had on, his hand cupped over the small of your back as he looked over the rest of your armor. There was a hitch in your breath when you felt Dammon’s warm hand on your back. You cleared your throat in an attempt to hide it but the tiefling looked at you with knowing eyes. Making eye contact with you, an obvious shudder going through him at the closeness between the two of you.

“Uh.. yeah, I can make some quick repairs. I’ll have this done within a couple days for you guys.”

You remembered that day well, between the frustration of Dammon not letting you pay full price for his services and the way he delicately touched your back, the hug that felt like neither of you wanted it to end. Something about that made you yearn for more. More than the flirtatious looks and easy conversation. You wanted something special with Dammon, but you never got the chance to tell him after defeating the Netherbrain. With all of the festivities and overwhelming excitement, you had to leave the city. You quietly told all of your companions, and Withers, goodbye and that you planned on traveling from city to city to rediscover yourself, but eventually you found yourself led back to Baldur’s Gate. In the city you weren’t ever sure you were going to be in again, five years later hoping to see the man who had always been for you.

Dammon’s forge wasn’t far from the tavern, you knew you could stop by first thing in the morning to see him but you knew that wasn’t an option. You quickly finished your ale, grabbed your coat off the barstool next to you and ventured into the cold, dark night.

The tiefling sighed as he hung his smithing apron on the hook on his back door, a tired hand rubbing over his neck. Dammon knew that he stayed out working too long, the sun was long gone and the first snow of the year was coming down, affecting the temperature consistency of his forge. He had orders that needed to be be done though, and he would be damned if he didn’t finish them on time. It seemed to Dammon that that’s how he spent all of his time the last few years. Hyperfocused on work so his thoughts didn’t wander back to the one that got away. He hadn’t known her all that long, just enough to know that she was quick to help anyone in need, strong, fearsome on the battlefield, and devastatingly beautiful. He missed seeing how the flames of his different forges danced in her irises, how her smile seemed to light up the room even more when he cooled Karlach down enough for her to touch others. Everything about her had bewitched him heart, mind, and soul.

Dammon had even smithed a sword for her, matching her beauty and fierceness. A sword with a silver hilt and an intricate gold design going up the fuller, set with opals, meeting at a deadly sharp point at the tip of the blade. He kept it on display on the mantle of his fireplace, hoping that someday he might have the chance to give it to her.

Dammon changed out of his work clothes and began to make himself some tea, lighting the fireplace as he waited for the kettle. His eyes were met with the blade he was never able to give, a small smile gracing over his features as he thought of the woman who unknowingly stole his heart. As he was lost in thought, his eyes drifted to the window, when he noticed that someone was standing outside his forge.. “Bloody hells.” he whispered to himself as he walked over to his front door.

“Hey! What are you doing? It's too damned cold to be out right now. Come insi-” The rest of his words were caught in his chest as he realized the person outside, now right in front of him at his door, was the woman he had been longing for. You. You were here, staring at him with those doe eyes of yours. His brain couldn’t register what was happening until the whistle of the kettle grounded him.

Realizing that you were actually here, right now, standing in front of him again. “Where are my manners, I’m sorry, Tav. Please come in, let’s get you out of this cold and out of that coat.” He said as he stepped aside and opened the door wider for you to come. You kicked the snow off your boots as you stepped through the threshold, hanging your coat on the rack next to the door. You smiled as you watched Dammon pouring the two of you a cup of tea, his hair hanging down around his face rather than in its signature bun, the red highlights glinting in the firelight. You noticed as his tail swiped back and forth, low to the ground, giving away his nervousness.

You decided to break the silence. “Were you able to buy this place from the owner?”

“Oh, yes. She said I was one of the better tenants she had had and gave me the opportunity to buy it from her a couple years ago.” Dammon responded as he watched you fidget with your tea cup. He couldn’t believe that you were here, after disappearing for five years. Five years of nothing but hoping to the Gods that you were okay. He continued to eye you, lips pursed. “Tav.. What are you doing here? I mean, I’m happy to see you and all but just reappearing after all these years, like nothing has changed? As if it was just another instance that we found each other before your tadpole was removed?”

You could hear the pang of hurt in his voice as you met his eyes, feeling guilty. You ran a hand through your hair as you thought of an answer. “I… I don’t know. I know that leaving after everything the way that I did was shitty, and I will never forgive myself for not finding you first, Dammon. I just.. couldn’t handle the pressure of being one of the heroes of Baldur’s Gate. I didn’t even know who I was as an individual anymore, so I left. Hoping to rediscover myself.” Dammon gave you a hum of acknowledgement as he watched you find your words.

“And did you?” The tiefling asked. You gave him a confused look as his question registered.

“Ah, well. That’s a tricky question, I suppose. I learned that I love Waterdeep during the summer, some of the best fish that I’ve ever had. I also learned that I still don’t care for goblins, I met too many of those bastards on the road.” You looked back to the tiefling, giving him a small smile. “I don’t know how many swords and blades I went through whilst traveling. I never met another blacksmith as good as you.” You said as you put your hand over his, hot and calloused, but still gentle as he placed his other hand over yours, smiling at you as his eyes drifted towards the blade he had made for you. Without another word, Dammon got up and grabbed the sword from its resting place, inspecting it.

“You know, I made this for you, all those years ago.. Been holding on to it, hoping to give it to you someday.”

“Dammon, have you been carrying a torch for me this whole time?” You half jokingly ask as you set your tea down. You gasped as you turned and saw the beautiful blade up close, inspecting its features, gently touching the opals that lined the middle. You looked up and realized that Dammon was already looking at you, his eyes so full of love you wondered how you missed it before.

“I always have, Tav. It’s always been you, I’ve never met a woman like you.” Dammon tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as you looked at him, slowly standing from your chair.

You took the sword from him, placing it on the counter. You surprised the man as you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him into a hug.

“Dammon, there is no other man in this life that I have wanted more than you.” Dammon hugged you tighter as he listened to your words, his tail wrapping around your leg as he tried to bring you closer to him. He finally pulled away from the hug to grab your chin, lifting your face up to his, kissing you passionately, like a man starved. You carded a hand through his hair as he cupped your cheeks, working his hands down to the sides of your neck, one hand then cupping the back on your head as he deepened the kiss. Causing you to moan into him, he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth, eliciting a moan from the man. The kiss turned to your tongues dancing with each other and hungry moans as the two of you sought to find purchase on the kitchen counter. It was again Dammon that pulled away first, an audible whine leaving you as he pressed his forehead to yours. The both of you panting, having forgotten that air was required. His thumb swept across your cheek as he hummed in delight as you leaned into his touch even more.

“I suppose we have a lot of catching up to do, don’t we?”

#bg3 #dammon #dammon bg3 #dammon x tav #dammon x reader

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cr4yolaas · 1 year ago

Text

— forget me not . kaeya x reader

synopsis . you loved him, and you thought he loved you too. you had to pay for your ignorance. [concept from @/o1kawasgirlfriends on tiktok]

warnings . angst !! i use a lot of rhetorical device stuff idk. arguments (kaeya and reader), one-sided relationship, kaeya is manipulative, little bit of gore-type descriptions towards the end, barely proofread, idk if i characterized anyone properly lol

notes . umm i was going thru my google drive for school thingies and ended up finding this from so long ago n i was wondering why it sounded so unfamiliar . realized i nvr posted it 😭

the sunlight drenched your bones, dandelion breezes humming away. bits of dirt and grass nipped away at your feet, while you pondered.

perhaps, the reason your chest felt so light was because you had placed the heart of clay once encased within your body into caramel hands. your heart, carved and sculpted to perfection by those who sat in celestia, had been put in the care of another.

how foolish.

and yet, you played with the idea. enjoyed it, even. the cotton in your ribcage began to feel familiar, warm, and you loved it. you loved the fuzzy sensation that blossomed when you caught a glance. you loved the grins that were smudged onto your face because of a man who had no cares and all the cares in the world. you adored it. and thus, you craved.

kaeya alberich. a name that rolled off of your tongue so gracefully, dripping off of the edge of your own chapped lips. a name that you called every so often, what with your position in mondstadt’s knights of favonius.

the concept that was once dreadful morphed into something you now deemed funny. you, an aspiring knight, wished only to protect your city. and instead, you had fallen for the man who was to help you reach that goal. stupid, stupid, stupid.

sword clashed against sword, the ring of metal echoing amongst the courtyard. there was no malice nor hatred laced in the slashes, no. there was adrenaline. excitement. energy. you could not say you loathed the one you were battling with, for he was the one that made your chest flutter and your teeth rot. adolescent grins were carved onto each of your faces, euphoria spilling through the cracks in your teeth. a sword clash that was not one of war or death or anger. in this moment, you couldn’t feel stupid. you could only feel ecstatic. joyful, even, as your blade knocked over his, and his eyes widened with both shock and pride.

“i’ve trained you well,” he spoke between heavy breaths. you watched as he walked over to pick up his sword, examining the worn hilt and the scratches painted across the metal. “excellent job.”

a mere hum escaped your lips, cracked and burning, as you lay on the floor. the cold stone was refreshing against your skin.

above you, a singular eye that reeked of crushed blueberries and ocean waves stared down. kaeya let out a gloved hand to assist you, pulling you up from the ground. “you can go home now. rest up. we have work tomorrow.” the words were soft to the ears, and you could’ve sworn the small grin on your face grew thrice.

kaeya sat in his office, waiting for you to bring him his coffee for the morning as usual. however, when you stepped in, you wore an expression of slight uncertainty, playing it off with a nervous smile. “sorry. i didn’t know which drink you wanted, so i got green tea, since i heard from lisa that it’s good to have in the earlier hours of the day.”

the man furrowed his brow at the cup. the green liquid that sat peacefully inside the porcelain seemed mocking, almost. “now, i thought you knew i prefer earl gray? you’ve always been good at keeping these things in that pretty little head of yours.”

“ah, i must’ve forgotten — apologies. i’ll do better next time.” kaeya dismissed the apology, staring down at the drink confusedly. the soft green was a great contrast to the obsidian black he was used to. he chose to ignore it for now, sipping at the drink absentmindedly.

you carried on with the morning, dropping off papers for your captain to finish and greeting the other knights. kaeya did the same, sitting at his desk and scribbling away with his favorite pen. and yet, the interaction continued to linger at the back of his head, itching at his skull endlessly.

odd.

you watched as jean dismissed herself from the building. the eyebags scribed onto her features were prominent, yet familiar. you pitied her for the stress placed atop her shoulders.

the halls of the headquarters were now silent. however, through the wooden door, you could hear the rough scratches of pen against paper, the sound seemingly louder than the hum of air around you.

this had become routine. kaeya would drop you off at your house once he finished his paperwork, wish you farewell, and make his merry way over to the tavern. you found comfort in the way he complained about work on the way back ( despite this, he never thought twice about quitting his job ) and how he would question you about your day right before reaching your doorstep. he held a tone towards you that was akin to honey, to dandelion kisses that you would constantly indulge in. unbeknownst to him ( or maybe he did know, after all ), he had you wrapped around his finger with every glance, every word.

both of you approached the door, your hands reaching for your keys. kaeya prepared to turn around, only for your grip to reach the end of his sleeve.

“...please stay.”

the aloof smirk on his face melted into a softer smile. “anything for you, dearest.” he stepped through the doorway, his boots clicking against the wooden floorboards.

kaeya welcomed himself onto your couch, motioning for you to sit beside you. “so,” he muttered. “what’s making you crave my presence?”

“i don’t know.” the response elicited a chuckle out of him. “... ‘m not sure. there’s something comforting and warm about talking to you. i can’t place it.”

your voice was soft, something he relished ever so slightly. he knew exactly what you were saying. it was a shame you didn’t.

and it was a shame he didn’t feel the same.

either way, he chose to succumb to your personal fantasies, feeding into them slowly and tantalizingly. “i may feel the same way.”

for your sake, he told himself.

there was a silence. sickening and dreadful. it gnawed at you, sculpting away at your limbs as you stared at the wall in front of you. “pardon?” your voice reeked of hesitance. his

confession felt ethereal, misplaced. despite the hint of wariness, you followed the hums of the sirens.

“did i not speak clearly enough?”

you gulped, face igniting with flames that even the most violent of ocean waves couldn’t quell. of course, you heard him perfectly. you just couldn’t quite process it. months of pining and obsessing over a man you were supposed to only know as a superior in the knights led up to this very moment spent on the cushions of your couch.

the moonlight that bled through the curtains illuminated his face, however, you still couldn’t place just what was swimming in his eyes. there was no genuineness. but there weren’t any hints of foul play.

and so, you fell into his hands once more.

kaeya seemed to be at his wit’s end lately. and unfortunately, you seemed to be the cause of it.

the crows of the evening invaded your window sill as your supposed lover stood across from you, his brow furrowed intensely as he struck you with his gaze. sharp and cold. the same way he stared at his enemies, those who he despised. maybe, if you waited for the rain to come, for the droplets to wash over the sorrowful earth, it would rid the sour expression on his face. however, rain showers didn’t come in the summer, and instead you would have to deal with the beatings of the sun as it melted the golden melodies you held onto so dearly.

“what do you mean you forgot about it?” venom dripped from his tongue so quickly, slowly forming a stream, a waterfall of white hot anger bleeding through the cracks in his teeth.

“i’m sorry, i-“

“are you, though?”

were you?

it was equally shocking to you. at least, it was once he brought it up. you had promised

to care for kaeya so dearly, and that came with remembering events that were important to him. so why was it that you made other plans today, of all days?

he shifted his stance, transferring his weight to his opposite leg. “he died today. and you forgot,” he took a step towards you. “how dare you?”

there was nothing for you to hold onto as you suffered through kaeya’s wrath, merely

watching as he spiraled into his long forgotten hole of pain and guilt and hatred. what could you do, anyways? he would swat your hand away again. remind you that he didn’t need to rely on you constantly. that he was his own person, and he didn’t need you hovering over him like a mother.

he ran a hand through his hair, the ribbon that held it in the day falling loose. an apology slipped from his lips, watered and broken. before you could reply, he escaped into the depths of night, clicking the front door softly. a rumble grew in your ribcage as guilt crawled up your spine carefully. so, so carefully. you doubt you ever even felt it.

the bedroom door creaked open. yellow rays, soft and gentle, barely there, fell from the crack between the wood and the doorway, and along with them came the man you could barely place. without a word, he made his way into the bathroom, leaving behind no trace. something he did so often, too often.

his arrival caused the book in your lap to fall. you clasped your hands together as you waited. how long were you willing to sit still, to hold for him as he moved as fast or slow as he wanted to?

kaeya slumped onto the bed, his back facing you once more as he propped his elbows on his knees. no words were spoken. the clock ticks and the gentle breezes said everything instead.

just as quickly as he sat, he collapsed into the spot beside you, his legs dangling off of the edge. a singular eye burned into the ceiling, writing scripts that couldn’t be deciphered by even teyvat’s top scholars. a mystery. just as you’d known him to be. just what you’d admired.

the path, eventually, circled back to you, in your mildly bewildered state. scrambled arpeggios flooded the room, the yellow light banished to the hallway as you both basked in the darkness. it was so sickeningly calming. almost as if you hadn’t just pissed him off.

your hands sneaked away from one another, remnants of sweat left on your palms. you didn’t want to look at him. but you did. his eye reeled you in so tenderly. it was far too tempting. and so, you stared, you drunk in every bit of eye contact he spared you, every second spent of silent gazes. you relished in it. and you loved it.

kaeya sighed, lifting himself up from his spot and burying himself beneath the blankets, handing you the wondrous sight of his back for the umpteenth time. vermillion flames of sorrow engulfed your being as you hoped for just a few more seconds, he would give you his face instead.

the bed bore a familiar coldness that the pile of blankets and pillows couldn’t dare rival. sunlit dust filtered in through the window, cascading onto your skin as the sun crawled onto the horizon. this time, the ceiling was barren. empty. the writings kaeya bore into the wood just last night had been erased, gone.

or were they?

perhaps it was your eyes playing tricks on you. your lips parted as you searched through your head for the memory of his gaze, locked onto your own, only to end up with nothing. the image seemed to have slipped from your grasp, sinking through the lines in your fingers.

you needed answers — but unfortunately, work always came first.

the paperwork in front of you was long forgotten, what with the ghouls scratching at your mind and your head resting deep in your hands. your leg shook beneath the desk violently. and at just the right second, a hurried alchemist stepped through the door.

“i’m here to collect a few papers, but,” he spoke, catching his breath — presumably from running from the lab where timaeus and sucrose worked to the knights’ headquarters. “are you alright? you look as if you’re in a state of distress - not from your work.” he held a look of concern that was, surprisingly, genuine.

you cleared your throat, letting your arms rest on your lap. “ah, well... it seems i’ve forgotten about him. pieces of him, i mean. it’s quite frightening.”

albedo closed the door behind him softly to give you both some privacy. “really? how often does this happen?”

“...a little too often,” you spoke, giggling softly in an attempt to lighten the mood. however, it was clear that the sound was strained. “i don’t know. he’s slipping from my memory.” the man nodded, lips parting to speak whatever conclusion he came to.

“hm. this is quite a rare case — but existent nonetheless,” he began, leaning against the wall as he started to ramble on. “the name escapes me, but it’s a sickness in which a person who faces one sided love begins to slowly forget about the one they admire. a phenomenon, really. it’ll start off with smaller things such as favorite colors or their birthday, but it quickly evolves into much larger memories like special events or anniversaries. through this process, the victim’s heart begins to deteriorate and rot slowly. as of now, there’s a cure, but no one’s sure if it’s that safe, considering how infrequent this is.” albedo snapped out of his trance of words as he looks back towards you, only to see your lip quivering as dews start spilling from your eyes. “…ah, i didn’t mean to scare you in any way... i’ll take my leave now.” however, before he could open the door, your hand stopped him, grasping desperately onto the end of his sleeve.

“you know how to treat me, don’t you?” he nodded slowly. “please. i could care less about the consequences.”

a hum left his mouth before he left with a single word, “understood.”

if you didn’t continue on with this parade of white hot sorrows, you might as well drown.

the porcelain walls confined you with your thoughts. with your ashen knees bent up to your chest, scrunched up hands buried beneath the water, you’d laugh at just how pitiful you looked. there was a ticking in your skull. it was due to end, to explode if you didn’t get an answer. then again, would there truly be any honest answer? even albedo’s scientific concoctions couldn’t dare get a truthful word out of kaeya in this situation, absolutely not. he was a man of secrets, and frankly, you fell into his trap. the nights replayed in and out on your bed, the book on your lap long forgotten as you stared at your lover’s plastic back. the pages were tainted. stained. all because you were slowly losing memory of his face, constructed of caramel blessings and dulcet poetry. you could not scribble it on paper, nor explain it, nor conjure it up in the confines of your imagination.

perhaps this was a bad dream. a bad dream where his face had been ripped and scratched and marred beyond words. you couldn’t dare face it. couldn’t dare accept it.

and, even through the blemishes of your eyes, you admired him. through the white lines, you adored him, loved him, cherished him.

how stupid.

you had come around full circle. the water in the tub had gone lukewarm from just how long you were sitting and staring, drumming your fingers against the stone of the bath to an unnamed rhythm of disarray. you were not the most religious of people, however, you prayed to whatever god heard you first that he could hear your melancholic symphonies just as well. unfortunately, that much was humanly impossible, for the distance from the house to the tavern was simply too great. he wouldn’t care to listen, wouldn’t tune in to hear a mere note. so you had to deal with your raptures alone. in your tub. as always.

three months had, apparently, been enough time.

however, three months was nothing compared to the five years you spent suffering with kaeya alberich. the cause of your downfall.

you couldn’t remember when it happened, where it happened - but all you knew was that the man who supposedly lived with you loathed you beyond description. there was a fierce stare in his eyes. you oblivious to where it sprouted from, merely observing as he prodded at your bones with a gaze of steel.

eventually, you could barely recognize he was there.

the man in blue had molded his anger into despair. you no longer found yourself victim to his stares, to his stabs. he was looking everywhere but you. and you didn’t know why.

the day you snapped was the day you had been banished from the home completely.

his voice was distant, however, you picked up on tidbits as he explained the situation to albedo, the chief alchemist who worked down in the city. according to him, you had thrown a fit, an unsettleable rage the moment he stepped into the room, purely because you had taken him as a stranger, recognized him as an intruder. the most noticeable part, however, was the look of fear in his eyes. one that contrasted the horrific glares he set you for weeks on end.

and so, as you lay on the wooden table of albedo’s lab, awaiting his arrival, you prayed that the sunkissed man would come too. however, such wishes were those of a fool, a moron, a selfish person. after all, you weren’t sure which sunkissed man you were hoping for, couldn’t place a face to the thought anymore. instead lay a blob of mishapen limbs that haunted your mind as the hours passed. only one man came in, dressed in a lab coat that fit him just right. his presence, sadly, did nothing to soothe your mind.

albedo sat on a chair placed too close and too far to the table. he seemed to be writing so fervently, as if his life depended on it — or rather, yours. with a sigh, he stood up, tightening the gloves that adorned his hands just before standing above you. “are you sure?” he spoke in a gentle tone, one that calmed the crashing waves in your guts and sent the ghouls away.

“yes, of course.”

time was of the essence. the alchemist - although not too experienced in the field of surgery - managed to work around the rot and mold building up inside in a good amount of time, using whatever scientific creations he had at hand. your sleeping form was a rather horrifying sight, for he wasn’t sure if you were still there every few seconds.

soon enough, the gaping hole in your chest had been stitched up neatly, your body dressed up in a plain white gown that albedo had borrowed from sucrose. he slumped onto the floor, not caring for how bad his posture was at the moment. now came the waiting. he would wait for you to awaken, no matter how long that would be, because this was his job - and he was dedicated.

surprisingly enough, it wasn’t that much time until you rose from your spot. he was achingly close to passing out, however, his path to sleep was quickly interrupted as you sat up. “good morning,” you spoke, voice somewhat raspy. you stood up, walking towards the counter to get a drink. “care to explain why i’m in your lab and you’re on the verge of falling asleep?”

“ah... surgery. i’m not sure it’d be very pleasant to hear the cause.” you hummed in response. the soft echo of chatter rang in the hallway, tempting you to step out. “don’t go out yet,” the boy spoke, as if he read your thoughts. “you need to recover for a bit. plus, i don’t think it’d be very fitting to step out in that gown.”

“oops.”

you returned to the table, sitting on the edge and allowing for your bare feet to ghost against the wooden floor. the iron stench of blood was still somewhat present in the air. your blood, you assumed. fortunately, albedo was able to take your mind off of the smell with his ( sleepy ) small talk, reminding you that it wouldn’t be safe to head home just yet considering your state.

it was comforting. and yet, you couldn’t help but feel like a piece was missing.

the sunlight drenched your bones, dandelion breezes humming away. bits of dirt and grass nipped away at your feet, while you pondered once more.

everything seemed to lack its color recently. you couldn’t place it, and it irritated you. however, even while you were stressing over how dull everything was, there was an airiness in your chest that you couldn’t place, couldn’t rip out and inspect. it fluttered so harshly, knotting around your limbs hastily.

perhaps it was because of that sunkissed man who offered to take you under his wing as a knight.

and so the cycle starts again.

182 notes · View notes

agentmarvel · 1 year ago

Text

Pairing: John Price/Reader

AU - Professor!Price & TA!Reader

MDNI - 18+ (minors and ageless blogs WILL BE BLOCKED)

Part 2 of 2 (part 1 here)

Read on ao3

♡

Kate Laswell is the only person John tells about you. It’s her guidance he seeks when he realizes how far up the creek without a paddle he is. Figures you have your confidant, he may as well assume his own. He’s known her longer than anyone else, and he knows she knows all the loopholes, since she faced a vaguely similar situation a few semesters before. All worked out well for her, so there’s hope for him, too, right?

John sits in her office, door locked and lights off. It’s safer that way; far less potential for eavesdroppers and interruptions.

“Oh, you’re in deep on this one, Price,” Kate chides with a grin over the edge of her coffee mug.

“That’s putting it mildly. What am I supposed to do here, Kate? It feels like every decision I make is wrong.”

“Why don’t you start by telling me about her,” she implores as she takes a sip, a soft smile etched into her fine-lined features.

He ponders for a moment on where to start, but when the dam breaks, it all just spills out. Nothing and everything, all at once. He tells Kate how fucking beautiful he thinks you are, all the things he absolutely adores about you, even the tiny little details, like your stupid red pen and the time he saw you yell at a vending machine on a bad day. He tells her about the way you work so well with students, and how helpful you are to him; what a stellar conversationalist you are, but how well you listen as well. He tells her about how you always make him laugh, how reassuring and kind and caring you are, how you really are every single thing he’s ever wanted rolled into one singular being, and he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about that very thing since -

“You’re falling in love, aren’t you?”

“Aw, hell, Kate… What kind of pubescent horseshit - ”

“Answer the question, John.”

“Kate - “

“Yes or no, Price.” Her voice is firm but friendly, telling him to cut the shit and at least consider the possibility.

In a stunned silence, John sits with his thoughts for a moment, eyes locked on Kate as she cocks an eyebrow. He thinks back on his short-lived first marriage, how that the military was both the beginning and end of it. Felt more like convenience and holding off loneliness in his time between deployments than it ever did truly being in love. The second, while lasting exponentially longer, also felt equally as devoid. While he cared for that second wife on some level, it didn’t quite reach the depth of how he feels now, how he feels about you. If neither bout rang of actual, genuine emotional connection, then he can say with absolute honesty that, no, John Price has never really been in love. Not until now.

Everything around him seems to slow to a stop. He can no longer hear the ticking of the clock on the wall, only the rhythmic pounding in his chest. It’s like a switch is flicked, and the lightbulb in his head brightens until it bursts, sending fragments flying into every corner. He’s not stupid enough to try to touch that filament, so he allows it to settle. In a haze of falling glass, suddenly it all makes sense to him again. A revelation that he can’t tamp down now that it’s been put into words.

“...yeah, I think I am.”

Every nerve in his body is alight, begging him to scream it from the rooftops, make sure the whole world knows.

He can’t yet, but he wants to.

“Christ,” he mutters instead, raking a hand through his hair. “I’ve gone and fucked all this up, haven’t I?”

“Perhaps,” Kate muses, tucking an errant blonde strand behind her ear before folding her empty hands together on the desktop. “I mean, you did reject the poor girl at a very opportune - not to mention vulnerable - moment…” She sighs. “But I don’t think you’re completely beyond the realm of forgiveness. Find the right way to apologize to her, and she may start to let you back in.”

He’s unusually hesitant. Apologies have never been his strong suit. He’s painfully headstrong, rarely wrong and rarer to admit, so this is new territory. Mentally, he ticks off all the clichés, like flowers or a box of chocolates with a little card of a briefly expressed remorse or a surprise picnic where he spills his guts to you in hopes of some form of clemency. He wants to plan something bigger, more grandiose, more romantic, but Kate interjects before he can even begin.

“I can see the gears turning. Stop overthinking it, John. Just buy the girl some damn flowers, and tell her you’re sorry.”

♡

He did it. Bought you flowers, that is. Early this morning, he picked up a big fall arrangement in a stunning crystal vase. Took him way too fucking long to choose and he was almost late, but John’s pretty sure it’ll all be worth the look on that gorgeous face of yours when you see it. He takes his time placing it perfectly on your desk, giving you the fullest view upon first sight, and he tucks a little white envelope under the edge of the glass.

It took quite a bit of time for him to even write the note inside. He wanted to convey how he feels without dragging out a full confession of just how hopelessly head-over-heels he is; that goal seemed to fall short beneath the tip of the pen as he all but outright tells you he loves you in neatly corded letters. The words on the page felt sufficient at the time, and he has to shut himself in his office to stop himself from second guessing to the point of re-writing it or just throwing it away period.

When the light kicks on in your office a few minutes after the start of his day, John feels his stomach flip. He hears a striking thud and a gasp of ‘aww’, and he’s cursing inwardly that he just had to have a student come in right at 8:00. After a few beats of silence, he hears a couple sniffles, and it has him a bit worried. Mr. Garrick would probably be understanding if he wanted to pop in and check on you, but he continues to talk to John like he doesn’t notice it, even if his expression softens just a little and his eyes dart to the side each time he hears it, too.

“So, does this mean you’re looking forward to finishing it?” John asks in earnest. Kyle had been quite vocal all semester about how much he was looking forward to exploring Stephen King’s Carrie, especially with it falling right around Halloween. It’s been a long time since John’s seen anyone but you get excited about his choice novels, even if they do tend to change every year.

“I actually, uh, finished it last week,” Kyle admits shyly. “Honestly, I just couldn’t put it down. I couldn’t just stop at her turning around to go home after all the shit she blew up! I needed to know what happened next, so I read ahead.”

Well, there’s no way John can be upset about that. It’s not every day one of these kids expressed interest in anything they’re reading. More often than not, they bitch about the amount of reading - if they even do it, that is. He can always tell the students that use Cliffs Notes or Sparknotes instead of actually doing the reading. So, the fact that Kyle, even just one student, is genuinely enjoying it - no, genuinely looking forward to reading more - seems to make all the work John’s put into this semester worth the while.

They go back and forth for a while, discussing the thematic elements and John details the rationale behind the novel’s subsequent banning in a majority of American schools. It’s a long geekfest between the two of them, and the only disruption is Mr. Garrick’s sudden realization that he’d stayed far too long and was late for his class.

“Thanks again, Professor Price!” he chirps, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I’m really looking forward to what’s next!”

He darts out of the room, practically slamming the door behind him. John cringes as the latch bounces into the frame, and he sighs heavily, grateful for today’s break in his normally hectic schedule. Only two students on his books today; one of which is already out of the way, the other not until this afternoon. Gives him time to do more overthinking while he waits for you to free up.

Settling himself further into his chair, John logs into his desktop and starts inputting grades from last week. Keeping his hands busy will help in keeping his mind busy, considering the small second voice in your office. From the sounds of it, it’s Ms. Graves.

It fascinates him, the way the two of you interact. You speak with her much differently than the other students who occupy your days without classes. There’s a much more candid sense of honesty, and he’s never heard either of you speak with such raw enthusiasm.

“What about ’Lullaby’ by the Cure?” he hears Pia ask.

“Good choice; how about Echo & the Bunnymen’s ‘the Killing Moon’?” you respond. He hears a hum of consideration, a few exchanged whispers - and some laughter - and that gets his attention.

Yeah, fuck it. He’s too invested in eavesdropping now to continue to pretend to be busy.

He hears the exchange of several more artists: the Cramps, Electric Light Orchestra, Prince, Oingo Boingo, the Doors, Bowie, Blondie, Siouxsie and the Banshees; all of which strike him with a baton of nostalgia. Lots of favorites in there, especially music he enjoyed growing up; some of his father’s top choices, too.. He’s only marginally impressed that the two of you can volley like this; you do enjoy 90s boy bands, after all. Bound to know plenty, eh?

Speaking of which, he hears Pia thank you for your suggestions. Her backpack rattles as he’s sure she’s tossing it on her shoulder, and he hears your office door close. He’s pretty certain you’ll have another appointment coming in soon, so he takes the opportunity to pop over.

“What was that about?” he asks from the now open doorway, expression curious. You look up from your laptop and smile more sincerely than he’s observed in a while, and John sees that big bouquet sitting front and center on your desk. That stirs his stomach and wakes the butterflies, fresh from the cocoons he’d tried to build over the weekend. They flutter this way and that, and he’s filled with a renewed desire to kiss you; one that never wanes, but ebbs and flows in intensity. Right now? Oh, right now, he wants to so god damn bad…

“Pia learns better with music. She listens while she reads, and it helps her remember the content when she listens to it again. Her grade has improved a lot since we started making playlists together.”

It sends a wave of warmth through his chest, the thought that you’ve been doing this for a few weeks. You’re arguably more dedicated to his students than he is at times, which says quite a bit. He’s pretty sure the look on his face matches up to those cartoons a lot of his students watch - what’s it called? Oh! Anime! He looks like every character that’s ever seen food or a pretty girl - heart eyes, pink cheeks, and an open mouth bordering on drooling.

“We sit down together at the start of every unit and make a playlist that matches the decade. Helps keep her centered in the story and prevents overlap so no information bleeds over from another book. It’s remarkable, reading her work and seeing her test scores; she’s really flourishing, Professor Price.”

John’s awestruck.

“Oh! Can I ask a favor?” Your inquiry draws his eyebrow up, implying you may ask. “Would you be willing to let her listen to music during the final? I’m willing to go old school, if you’re worried she’ll cheat; I have an old iPod at home that I can load up with the music, and we can keep it locked in your office until then. You’re welcome to go through it, too, just to make sure nothings hidden or anything. I just really - “

“Hey,” John says softly, effectively silencing you. “If you think she’ll do better being allowed to listen to music, we can make that work, love. I trust your judgment.”

If the incoming is any indicator, the flowers were the right call. You’re thawing, spring seemingly on its way, and Price will have to send Kate some sort of gift of gratitude.

You leap from your desk, and the next thing he knows, you’re throwing your arms around his neck, giving him a tight squeeze. He doesn’t register what’s happening in time to wrap himself around you, palms rising to meet you a beat too slow, and he finds himself missing the warmth radiating from your skin as you step back just as quickly. Your hands clasp in front of your chest, and you’re positively beaming.

“Thank you, Professor! I… We really appreciate it. Pia is going to be so happy!”

He can’t fight off the smile on his face. It’s absolutely adorable when you get excited; you’re wearing the same expression as the day he agreed to dance with you. He refuses to let this end the same way, so he takes a different path.

“She seems different with you,” he notes aloud. “Definitely not the same Ms. Graves I see in class.”

“Oh, I, uh… I know her pretty well outside of class. I… dated her brother for a while when I was doing my undergrad work.” You don’t seem too pleased to admit the latter, judging by your expression and the sudden appearance of nerves. He’d be lying if he said he was pleased to hear it. His stomach gnarls itself at the mere thought of you being with anyone else. To consider that someone else has kissed you, touched you, made love to you; that’s enough to make him crazy if he dwells on it too long.

Don’t get him wrong, he’s under no illusion that you’re some sort of saint, even if just the sound of your voice is pure heaven. You’ve spoken about your dating history before, though it’s typically just in overheard fragments to Mr. MacTavish.

“How long?” He wants to clap a hand over his mouth, but it’s too late. The words came out, and he can’t take them back or play it off like he isn��t actually curious. Instead, he stays still, hoping the look on his face reads as if this is friendly conversation and not him prying where he oughtn’t.

You seem surprised by his question, and his blood floods with panic.

“You don’t have to answer that,” he quickly throws out, raising his hands. “I’m so sorry; that was inappropriate.”

“Two years.” You shrug like it’s nothing, and John swallows his gum by accident. He wasn’t expecting that. Maybe a few dates, a couple months tops, but two years? Doesn’t seem possible for a guy like Phillip Graves to sustain a relationship that long, given his penchant for obnoxiously blatant flirtation and his wandering gaze, practically eye-fucking anything with a pulse.

"What happened?" Fuck it. He's going to be a Nosy Nellie. It’s selfish and shady, but he can learn a lot from this. Come hell or high water, he swears he’ll treat you better. He’ll take the lessons learned from lesser men’s fallacies (and/or women’s; he’s got some questions after the last conversation he eavesdropped on between you and Johnny).

“He couldn’t seem to stop flirting with other people, and I’m pretty sure he loved his car more than he ever loved me.” Your laugh is dry and humorless, but your wry smile does extend to your eyes. That tells him you’re over it. The hurt you may have felt when it happened doesn’t linger. Good news for John.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replies, trying his best to be sympathetic. You shrug again.

“What are you sorry for? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t still feel bad that it happened. You deserve better than that.”

He wants to tell you what you really deserve; how you deserve a man, not a man-child. You deserve a man who’s going to take good care of you, worship you, love you selflessly. Someone who will make you breakfast, warm up your car for you in the winter, hold your hand every chance they get. Someone who only has eyes for you. Someone like John.

But he can’t say that, so he doesn’t.

“Yeah, I do,” you agree with a nod. “Know someone who wants to treat me right?”

You say it with a laugh, and John smiles hesitantly, choosing his next words carefully.

“Yeah, I think I might.”

“Oh, yeah? Anybody I know?” It’s coy and cute. You know exactly what he means; he has a feeling you just want to hear him say it. I’d treat you right, honey. Let me show you. He pulls his lower lip between his teeth, giving you a look that feels way too suggestive for the current environment.

“Yeah. I think you know him pretty well, actually,” he shrugs, nonchalantly holding his expression. “He’d be good to you.”

“Well, slip him my number, would ya? I could do with a nice date night soon.” You throw him a wink before turning back to your laptop, and John slowly slinks back into his office. Before he can close the door, you call for him again. He pops his head back in and sees his white envelope held up between your index and middle fingers, the flap torn open.

“Thank you for the flowers, sir. They’re beautiful.”

♡

There’s a rule in film: if you mention a gun in the first act, it must go off in the second. That’s not directly how the quote itself goes and this most certainly isn’t a film, but it still rings true.

It was only a matter of time before the proverbial gun went off, now that Price has inquired into your history with Phillip Graves. He didn’t expect it to happen so soon, though. Only a week passes before the soon-to-be-graduate rears his ugly little head.

“Oh, feminism, huh?”

The voice comes from your office, sultry and low, just barely within a range for John to hear it. His skin prickles, hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He knows that voice; it’s the very one that’s haunted him for days now, whispering sweet nothings into your ear and holding you close in a way John is desperate to, but cannot yet. It’s Graves, the little prick, and that makes him nauseous.

You’re trying your hardest to explain the running theme of feminism in Carrie with the unit coming to a close, and Phillip’s ignoring the help you offer in favor of instead taking certain liberties with twisting everything you say into some sort of line or innuendo. Like that would ever work on you; you’re too smart not to see through that bullshit. You shut him down every time and ask him to focus on the material so you don’t have to deal with him next semester.

Still, it wrenches John’s gut in a way that bleeds him of his patience. He meant it when he said you deserve better than Phillip, and after the things you told him, there’s no fucking way he’s letting that weasel worm his way back in. You would never, he knows, but he doesn’t want Phillip having even the slightest sliver of hope.

Before he can stop himself, he’s knocking at the dividing door.

“Come in,” you call sweetly. He opens the door and sticks his head in, plastering the kindest, fakest smile on his face. You return the look as Graves sucks at his teeth, looking markedly impatient and making his irritation known.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” John says, syrup seeping into his tone. “But I think I might have accidentally deleted my gradebook. Can I borrow you for two quick seconds?”

“Of course,” you answer, tone laced with a bit more haste than either man apparently anticipated. “Excuse me just a moment, Mr. Graves. I’ll be right back in.”

You stand and push in your chair, making John’s stomach leap in the process. You’ve got on that burnt orange corduroy skirt that hugs your hips the way he’d someday like his hands to do and a plain, black, long sleeve top that matches the cling. It does nothing to disguise your perfect figure, his ideal figure, thrusting his erratically-beating heart into his throat entirely involuntarily. He never forgets how beautiful you are, not even for a second, but the visual reminders are always welcome.

He can feel the relief rolling off you in waves. Your expression stays neutral as you smooth out your skirt. There’s a gentle sway in your steps as you round the desk and follow John into his office. As he closes the door gently, you bee-line for his computer. A few clicks, and you look to him over your shoulder, perplexed, while he moves to stand behind you.

“Professor, your gradebook is fine. It’s right here.” You point at the monitor, and John nods.

“I know.”

“Then why - “

The words die on your tongue as John’s hands delicately close around the curve of your jaw. He hears the softest hitch in your breathing as he leans forward, half-lidded eyes searching your expression for any indicator that you want him to stop. He owes you that much.

“I should’ve done this weeks ago,” he murmurs, stroking a thumb across your cheek.

“John, what are you - “

His lips crash into yours, mouths meshing together like pieces of a puzzle, a perfect fit. It feels like centuries he’s waited for this moment, and the fire it spurs in his soul feels only comparable to the sun, licking up his throat like a solar flare.

You’re hesitant at first, rightfully so, but it doesn’t last long before that flame of desire kindles within you, and you melt into him, body molding to his. A particular breadth of warmth spreads across his chest as your hands come to rest against it. The tips of your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, twisting it in your fist as you tug him impossibly closer. He’ll take the time to map and memorize every inch of you when he isn’t so consumed by the way you move in tandem without faltering as you become so wholly entangled with each other.

As his arms ensnare your waist in a vise-like hold, one of your hands, so soft and kind, nails painted a pretty shade of plum, threads itself into his hair. John has to bite down to stop himself from outright moaning into your mouth, the favored fantasy that often played out while he masturbated seemingly coming to life just in one movement. Your lower lip somehow gets trapped between his teeth, though, and you are the one to moan, hushed and soft, just for him to hear.

Fuck, if that doesn’t fuel the fire inside his abdomen. He’ll do anything, any-fucking-thing, to hear that sound again and again and again.

He walks you backwards until he feels the edge of his desk pressing against your backside. The hold he had on your waist is abandoned in favor of assuming a sturdy grip on the back of your soft thighs. No warning is given when he suddenly lifts you, depositing you on the top of his desk. He slots himself between your knees and leans over you, still wrapped in this heated exchange. The tip of your tongue flickers against his only briefly, and it makes him borderline feral with want.

Your thighs get one little squeeze before John lands one hand on your back and the other just below your ear. He guides you down until he’s practically laying on top of you. Instinct guides your legs to hitch over his hips, and he’s well aware that you can feel the growing bulge in his slacks pressing up against your covered center. He ruts into you feverishly and mindlessly, desperately chasing another of those sweet little noises.

He almost whines when he feels you pulling away from him, mouths separating only for you to press your forehead against his. There’s an attempt to reconnect on his behalf, but you decline with the softest whisper of his name.

“John, there’s still a student in my office.” He can feel the smile on your lips as he moves to your neck. His lips seal over a spot where he can feel your pulse racing. It sends more blood south, having even the slightest inkling that you’re just as affected as he is, and he struggles to stave off the urge to rip a hole in the middle of your pantyhose and see just how affected you are.

“So?” he grunts, nose nudging your ear lobe as he lowers his voice more. “Let the little bastard sit there. Let him hear how a real man treats a fuckin’ prize like you.”

You swat his chest playfully, chiding him for encouraging you to shirk your responsibilities; the responsibilities assigned to you by him, no less. Your thighs squeeze his midsection again when you guide his face back to yours, stealing another peck before holding his gaze with a softer expression.

“He’s a nightmare, I know, but he’s still paying for a quality education. Just give me ten minutes to wrap this up, and I’m all yours.”

I’m all yours - those three simple words loop in his head, a phrase he’s ached for, longed to hear, for months. His heart clenches at the thought; summer nights on the porch swing, his hand on your thigh while he drives, letting you fall asleep on his chest. He wants it all. He wants every inch of love and affection you can offer and wants to give his in return. In this moment, the way you’re looking at him through your lashes, it’s so sorely tempting to say three different words back. He can’t yet, but he wants to.

“I hate to seem impatient, love, but I don’t think I can wait another ten minutes.” His thumb strokes across your cheek endearingly, and just beneath his finger tips, he can feel your heartbeat hammering away. “Don’t know how I ever lasted a minute without you now that I’ve got little taste of ya.”

You let him kiss you again, chaste and tender, a stark contrast to the frenzy he felt in the minutes before.

“You always been such a sweet-talker, Price?” you whisper with a grin, reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair away from his forehead. He huffs out a muted laugh, trying to stifle his amusement. “Keep it up, and I might just let you keep me.”

John’s quiet a moment, basking in your borderline ethereal glow, before he murmurs, “I like the sound of that.”

A beat passes, appreciative and intimate glances exchanged, the two of you sharing breath. Oh, how hard-pressed he is to move, to allow the contact to dissipate, to willingly let you out of his arms, his sight, to shoo away the little leech awaiting on the other side of the door. It’s unfathomable, in his mind. Months of waiting, weeks of agonizing, and now that he’s got you exactly where he wants you, he has to let you go for even a second? Inconceivable. Preposterous.

With a gentle palm against his chest, though, you manage to convince him. He wraps his fingers around yours and lifts himself off of you with a checked grunt. God, you look beautiful like this - splayed out across the top of his desk, skirt rucked up higher than would be decent to make room for his large frame to slot between your thighs, chest rising and falling steadily, though you still seem breathless. The sight alone requires him to reach down with his unoccupied hand and adjust his stiff length just to make the wait bearable.

He pulls you to your feet, still careful to keep you close to him. Graceful touches follow as he helps you right your hair and smooth out your clothing. When nothing wayward is left to stall, you press your lips to his one more time and turn on your heel, eyes promising a swift return as he plants himself back in his chair.

♡

It doesn’t go further than that for the remaining weeks of the semester, but that doesn’t mean Price isn’t counting down the days. While there’s still plenty of heated makeout sessions and aggressively building sexual tension, he finds other ways to show his affection in the interim; he brings you coffee every morning, walks you to your car after hours because it gets dark out far earlier in the winter, sets the heater in the lecture hall a few degrees higher than he’d like to ensure you’re comfortable throughout classes.

Restraint is gentlemanly. Just because he’s no longer deterring himself from chasing you doesn’t mean he’s willing to forgo all the rules. Though he’s following his heart down a path that leads straight to you, his stubbornness won’t allow him to jeopardize your future. Plausible deniability until you’re safely under the tutelage of another professor.

He discussed the transfer with you long before requesting it. You were surprisingly amenable to making the change once John made it clear that it wasn’t based on your performance. He adores you, admires the work you’ve put in for both him and his students, and he’d be remiss if he let you think for a second that you’ve been anything less than perfect.

No, no. He only broached the subject in hopes of fostering the seed you’d planted months ago. The little seed that is only now peeking through the topsoil. A burgeoning affair of the heart that he’s hoping to see blossom into something far more beautiful very soon, something you can grow together. He’s already fully committed to making sure it gets plenty of water and sunshine, but having you remain his TA would flood the garden and keep the skies cloudy. Nothing could flourish unhindered that way.

That’s not quite how he phrased it to you, though. He still plays his cards close to his chest and has yet to confess the full extent of his feelings. You’ve off-handedly mentioned bits and pieces of your near future plans - plans that John’s certainly a part of - but any discussion about where your entanglement is headed beyond stolen kisses has been… unclear. He’s not a presumptuous man. It’s not his place to assume you’re on the same page, to assume you want an actual relationship with him.

So, to avoid the pressure of expectations or labels, he simply said, “I’d feel better about seeing where this goes if you were under another instructor. It would be unfair of me to ask you to wait another semester. You don’t deserve to be kept a secret, love.”

The request was put in shortly after, though Simon had already signed off on it over a week before John even mentioned it to you.

He only briefly second guesses that decision seeing you now, hovering in the doorway between offices. You look as beautiful as always, sporting a simple, sensible sweater dress that accentuates your delightfully buxom figure. What’s unusual is the mournful smile on your lips and the banker’s box in your hands.

Your watery eyes, swimming with unshed tears, scan over his office. You sigh heavily through your nose, biting your lip to stop it from quivering. John is immediately thrust into comfort mode, ready to soothe whatever savage beast has upset you so.

“What’s the matter, sweet girl?” he asks softly, pushing aside the last of the stack of final exams atop his desk. Those can wait a bit longer; another day if need be.

“Oh, nothing,” you answer, clearly willing your voice not to crack. “Just a little sad that this is the last day. I’m really going to miss my office.”

It’s the little sniffle that follows that makes his chest ache. He’s smart enough to read between the lines. This has nothing to do with your office.

Without thought, Price automatically pushes his chair back and stands, shortening the distance that separates you in just a few strides. He takes the box from your hands, setting it in the empty seat closest to you. You’re looking at the floor now, avoiding his gaze. A curled finger beneath your chin tilts your head back up and gives you to choice but to look at him.

“Don’t you give me that nonsense,” he chides with a soft smile. “What is it really, darling? Tell me what’s on your mind.”

A few stray tears fall between blinks, and John is quick to wipe them away with the pad of his thumb. He’s sure you can see every ounce of worry etched into his features, even as much as he’s trying to mask it.

“I’m scared, John.” The admission surprises him. “I don’t like change. I don’t like not knowing what to expect.”

“I promise you, my dear, everything is going to be perfectly fine. Professor Riley will take excellent care of you. He’s a wealth of knowledge; well-versed, brilliant. I trust him. As for your office, it’ll be exactly as you leave it any time you want to come visit.”

“It’s not just that,” you interject, chewing at the inside of your cheek. There’s something more on the tip of your tongue, and he tilts his head just enough to prompt you to say it. “I just… I won’t get to spend as much time with you, will I?”

Price frowns.

“You’ll have all the time you want with me. Needn’t but ask, and I’ll be right there.”

That’s not what he wants to say. What he wants is to tell you that he’d sooner have you planted in his lap every second of every day so he never has to be away from you, that he doesn’t particularly enjoy the thought of sharing your time with any other man for any period of time (even if it is just Simon), that he values every fleeting moment he spends with you over any material thing in existence...

“It’s not just about what I want, John,” you counter in a hushed, wobbly voice. “What do you want?”

He sighs, taking your pretty face in his large hands. His mind is racing through a rolodex of anything and everything he could possibly say to keep that more lax, collected façade he’s curated intact; but the second he feels another tear drip onto his hand, it all goes out the window. He asks you to look at him, and you do. You look up at him with those bright, kind, teary eyes, and any ounce of resolve or restraint left in John’s body crumbles to bits. He takes a long blink and just lets the words come out how they may, consequences be damned.

“I want you. Whatever you’re ready for, whatever you’re willing to give, I just want you.”

Words are often said to carry weight; some far too heavy, some not quite so, but all with their own heft. Like rocks tied to the soul, his grandmother used to say. Choose them wisely, and use them with caution, lest you be burdened by the stones in your mind. But John Price has never felt so weightless and free as the moment a syrupy, surreptitious smile settles on his lips and he utters a phrase he didn’t ever anticipate using before even taking you on a proper date: “I love you.”

Your expression softens. Dumbstruck, your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. Your eyes search through even the deepest recesses of his, looking for some sign of deception or jest, but there is none to be found. Never will be. Not with him.

After a few beats of silence, John clears his throat, admittedly a bit sheepish.

“You don’t have to say it back. Just couldn’t -”

“No, John, I-I… I love you, too.”

He doesn’t waste even a fraction of a second pulling you into him further for a searing kiss, one you melt into as soon as his lips meet yours. It’s nothing like the dozens of times he’s kissed you before; there’s nothing frantic or frenzied or feverish about it this time. True, it gets his heart racing all the same. His blood still sings with the same carnal cravings. But his mind and body do not share the driver’s seat this time. No, this time, his heart has the wheel.

It’s almost instantaneous, how hard he gets while just kissing you. Happens every time, but this is the first where he doesn’t feel such an innate need to hide it from you. He has nothing left to hide anymore.

You’re held there in a languid but torrid lip-lock until your fingers curl into the collar of his sweater, like you’re trying to pull him impossibly closer. The first little tug begs for more, and John takes a step forward to grant your wish, effectively backing you into the wall. The second tug draws his hands downward, skating oh so gracefully along your sides until his firm grip settles around the curve of your hips. He gives you a gentle squeeze there, just tense enough to make you gasp before he licks into your mouth.

The feeling of his tongue sliding past your teeth seems to spark something wild in you. You abandon the give of his collar, instead weaving your fingers through his hair. An experimental tug makes him grunt - something you seem to like given the way your back arches from the wall, canting your hips up into his. John takes the opportunity to wedge his knees between your thighs, pressing securely against your clothed cunt. Your tongue prods his back as you grind into him a time or two, and like an electric shock, the motion has him pulling back just enough to speak clearly.

“You want me, pretty girl?” he asks gruffly, breathlessly. It’s near impossible to stop his eyes from migrating, but the way you’re fighting the urge to let your eyes roll back when you rub yourself against him again keeps him entranced. “Tell me, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“Just… Just want you,” you pant, biting your lip, failing to hide the sweet little whimper that slips out.

“Yeah? That all you want, sweetie? You already have me. I’m all yours.”

“You know what I mean, John.”

He chuckles.

“You’ll need to be more specific than that, love. I haven’t spent all semester with a TA that can’t use her words, have I?” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “That won’t do at all, my love. Tell me exactly what you want, and I might just give it to you.”

“I-I want - oh fuck - I want your cock stuffed so deep i-inside me that I can f-feel it for days.” You whine, assuming a steady pace. It’s the most gorgeous sound he’s ever heard. “Need you to fill me up. Been waiting for months, John.”

His mind goes blank. He’s dumbfounded. An entire dictionary at his disposal, and the only word that comes out of his mouth in response is a hushed, “Fuck.”

You seem to have usurped his confidence, based on the way you’re looking at him as you whisper, “Let me show you.”

Before he can process any of it, you’re guiding him back to his chair and sinking to your knees. Deft fingers make quick work of his belt while you mouth openly along the bulge in his slacks. He swears he’s dreaming when those dark blue nails unfasten the button and begin to pull down his zipper.

Something in him short-circuits when he looks down and sees the wet patch you’ve left just above his knee. Either you’ve soaked through your panties, or you don’t have any on; he’ll find out which is the case soon enough, but it’s enough to keep him hard for hours.

His eyes dart back to your face, and you’re looking up at him expectantly, tugging his pants and briefs down in tandem, asking him so very sweetly to have a seat. Like a well-trained dog, he obeys, lower layers shoved to his ankles. Tugging a hair tie from your wrist, you make quick work of pulling your hair back. Once done, you only break eye contact to trail a fingertip down his throbbing erection, a haughty smirk tugging at your lips every time it twitches beneath your touch.

“You’ve got the prettiest dick I’ve ever seen,” you mutter, palming it as it lays against his stomach just enough to incite a sharp gasp.

“Don’t tease me, woman,” he groans. “Been waitin’ just as long.”

Almost too delicately, you wrap your hand around his cock, middle finger and thumb barely missing each other. You give him a tight squeeze, making those fingers meet as you painstakingly slowly begin to pump the base. His head falls back against the chair with a muted thud, and the second his eyes close, you have your lips wrapped around his tip.

Your tongue flickers over that sensitive spot just below the head, and John sees white spots behind his eyelids. It’s been so long since anything has felt this good. In fact, he’s not sure if anything ever has. Nothing compares to you. Not by a long shot.

As heavy as those eyelids feel, he lifts his head, forcing himself to watch you work so he can commit every second to memory. That warm, wet, wanton mouth of yours just keeps sucking him deeper, worshiping each inch you take with appreciative hums and whimpers. The pressure is perfect, especially with your tongue pressed to the underside. Your soft hand works the length you’ve yet to reach, the drool leaking from your lips lubing it up for you.

When he finally nudges the back of your throat, you gag, but you don’t pull back. You push just a little farther first, forcing him into the start of the curve and giving him a swallow. What in the actual fuck did John Price ever do right to deserve an angel like you, huh? How in the hell did he ever get this fucking lucky?

The moment your head starts bobbing in his lap, he swears he’s actually died and gone to heaven, or rather, the closest thing he believes in. He has a deathgrip on the arm of his chair, and to ground himself, he has to put one hand on the back of your head; not pushing, not guiding, just resting to keep himself from floating away entirely.

It’s almost overwhelming, just how god damn good you feel. He’ll never get over it. He’ll never get used to it.

You haven’t stopped stroking that extra length since you started, but the other hand is conspicuously absent. He wonders what that hand is up to, but he can see the smallest sense of movement in your shoulder, and he knows exactly what you’re doing.

“Hands on my legs, love. Don’t you dare touch that cunt,” he growls, renewed confidence seeping down to his marrow. Pretty eyes narrowing just slightly, you place your other hand on his thigh. He can feel how wet your two middle fingers are, slick against his skin. The noise that comes out of him is one he doesn’t recognize - somewhere between a whimper and a moan, but somehow neither - as he grabs your wrist and pulls that hand to his lips. Taking those two fingers, he licks them clean. You’re just as delectable as he imagined, and the need to get his mouth on you rears its head. That little voice in the back of his head tells him you deserve it; it’s only right that he shows you how much he truly loves you after making you wait so long.

You pull his cock from your mouth with a wet pop, kitten-licking the tip between ragged breaths. Still pumping him and keeping pace, you duck your head down a little more. You begin alternating between sucking on his balls and tracing the seam up the middle. It’s only a few switches, but it feels like dozens before you start sucking on his dick again. His hips buck involuntarily, grip on your head tightening when he feels every muscle his abdomen tensing.

“Gonna cum if you don’t ease up,” he warns, but you continue with a hum. He has no choice but to guide you away by your hair, and he just about cums anyway at the sight of you.

Your makeup is smeared, little gray streaks running the length of your face. Your entire chin is glistening in the low warmth of the fading sunlight from the window. A few small, silvery strings of saliva and precum keep you connected just a second longer. Any hope you may have started the day with that your lipgloss would stay put was dashed by the first kiss, but is now an absolute impossibility. John almost feels bad about ruining your morning’s work, and by almost, he means not at all. The smile on your face is more than well worth it.

He stands, pushing the chair back with his legs.

“Get that gorgeous arse of yours on the desk, love.”

Divesting himself of his remaining clothing, he sees your eyes widen just a hair.

“Jesus, John,” you whisper, gaze roving his body like it’s a modern marvel. “You’re fucking perfect.”

“You’re one to bloody talk,” he retorts, letting the hem of his sweater fall from his hand. It crumples into a pile with his slacks, and he’s back on you sooner than it hits the floor.

Another blistering kiss, and he can taste himself on your tongue. It’s heady and intoxicating. Enough so that he’s already laying you back on top of the desk, just like the first time he kissed you.

Like muscle memory, your legs come up astride his waist, and his hands are rucking your dress up over your hips. You only break away from him long enough to pull it the rest of the way off before pulling him back in. The hands used to guide you down work tirelessly to unhook your bra, and both offending garments are tossed aside carelessly. He’ll help you find them later.

He’s the one to disengage this time, the one to stare, the one marveling at the wonder before him. To say you’re beautiful, gorgeous, or any other synonym in his repertoire would be a disservice. There really is no word in the English language - or any other, for that matter - that really captures just how breathtaking you are. Every curve, every line, every mark, mole, freckle, dimple, it merely confirms what he’s surmised from the start: you are perfect.

A slew of words escape him, none of which are coherent to either of you, between the kisses he places along your jaw, down your neck, across your chest. His large hands cup your breasts, pushing them together in the middle. He seals his lips around one of your nipples and lets his tongue move in mindless patterns, adding little sucks or nibbles when he hears you give him a little sigh. The other gets the same treatment immediately following, but he doesn’t forget his mission. A mere detour won’t derail him.

John makes his way down your stomach in a slow trail, leaving hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses. Your hand is in his hair again, and you’re watching him like a hawk, brows furrowed in a throes of ardor.

Another prediction is seasoned as fact when he reaches your pussy. He doesn’t recall any underwear being removed, and yet, you’re bare to him. The evidence of your arousal extends from your lips to your inner thighs, and his cock throbs tirelessly between his legs at the mere thought of his effect on you.

“Cheeky little minx,” he comments, heated breaths washing over your slit. “Were you planning on tonight going this way?”

Almost bashfully, you shake your head.

“I don’t like panty lines,” you cop. “Don’t think anyone else needs to imagine what’s under my clothes.”

He huffs out a chuckle before taking a knee, hitching yours over his shoulders. His arms circle beneath your ass, wrapping around until those big paws are settled on your hips. The tips of his fingers dig into the meat as he hauls you closer to the edge of the desk.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart,” he murmurs between the kisses he lays against your skin, kissing up one thigh, then the other, never taking his eyes off yours while he licks the slick from his lips. “Most stunning creature I’ve seen in all my life. Don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

You’re not given the chance to respond before he descends, licking a stripe through your folds with the flat of his tongue. You yelp, grabbing a fistful of his hair. He feels your legs tense, but his hold keeps them from closing around him. As much as he’ll enjoy the free earmuffs on the impending colder nights, he wants you spread out right now.

He drinks you down, savoring how good you taste. You’re keening high in your throat, pulling his hair, digging your heels into his scapulae; he’d gladly spend the rest of his life between your legs if you’d let him.

The tip of his tongue nudges your swollen clit. You arch off the desk, panting. He sucks it between his lips, putting just the right pressure on it in a thrumming cycle. The sounds you’re making whisper of being close to the edge, and he wants to keep pushing.

“John, please,” you whine, squirming in his iron grip. “I want your fingers.”

He releases your clit, flicks his tongue over it one more time just to see you jolt. If you’re going to ask so sweetly, who is he to deny you?

“Yes, ma’am.”

Untangling one arm, Price wastes no time guiding his middle finger into your sopping entrance. It slides in like this is where it belongs. He uses the opposite thumb and forefinger to spread you open, eagerly easing a second finger in.

His hands are much larger than yours; thicker, longer fingers, meatier palms, knotted and scarred knuckles from his time in the service. Two of his digits equal three of yours. He’s gentle, cautious, and the addition of his ring finger lures him into a trance of wonderment, watching with rapt attention as your hole flutters, stretching to accommodate him.

You clench around him, a scarcely audible hiss sneaking between your teeth. The depth he reaches is far more than you’d ever manage on your own, he knows, and when he crooks his fingers, catching that sweet spot, you bow up again, grinding down into his hand.

The blissed out look you aim at him sparks the frenzy, and he’s ravenous, devouring you like a man starved. Lapping at your clit, hand keeping a steady pace, it doesn’t take long before you’re issuing a warning that you’re close.

“Cum for me, pretty girl. Not stoppin’ ‘til you do.”

Your thighs clamp down around him when his efforts double. A dull thunk is barely heard as you throw your head back, and almost on cue, your walls are squeezing him, pulsating as a sharp bout of convulsion hits. He can’t make out the words you’re saying, so he tenderly guides you back down from the peak until you release him.

The heave of your chest as you try to catch your breath gives him pause. While he’s desperate to feel you wrapped around him, milking him for all he’s worth, he’d still be plenty satisfied finishing himself off at home if you needed a break. You look absolutely wrecked already, smeared makeup and mussed hair, sweat beading above your brow. He’s clearly done a number on you already, but when you spread those perfect legs again and start palming your tits in a way that makes his mouth water, John finds himself grabbing a throw pillow from the couch beneath the window.

In a rare display of raw, brute strength, he gathers both your legs in one arm and lifts your ass from the desk just enough to wedge the pillow in. He’s bumped into his own desk enough times to know what a nasty mark it can create, and he’ll be damned if you’re left with any bruises other than the ones he creates with the intimate intent of branding you as his.

“You ready, love?” he asks softly, guiding his drooling cock through your folds. Your wetness slicks him up nicely as you nod, tacking on a gentle ‘please’.

His tip settles in just the right place, and he pushes home in one fell stroke. Your eyes roll back, mouth falling open in a silent moan, and John feels as if the air has been punched from his lungs. He has to steady himself to keep from cumming right then by holding just beneath your rib cage, the natural curve of your waist. It fits so immaculately in his hands, and it roots him into place.

This is real. You’re real. You’re really here, and this is really happening.

“John,” you mewl, placing a delicate hand over one of his.

“Just… Gimme a second, sweetheart,” he mutters with a kind squeeze. “Feels too fuckin’ good bein’ inside you like this.”

One moment bleeds into another, and you’re so patient as he collects himself. No push, no prod, no protest; just the tips of your fingers tracing the veins in the back of his hand until he’s ready. When he is, he gives you a gentle tap of confirmation before experimentally rolling his hips.

He groans, the feeling still so intense as he works in shallow thrusts. You fit him like a glove, like you were made for him and him alone, like you’re meant to be his. A step away from the precipice does him no favors; he knows he’s not going to last long. With the way you’re wrapped around him, looking up at him with a degree of reverence reserved for someone who hand-painted all the stars in the night sky just for you, how could he?

His hips draw back further each stroke now, and he begins to pick up his pace. The meat of his thighs claps against your ass as he pulls your hips towards him at every collision. Your nails bite into his forearms. Every sound you make fuels his primal need to hear more, and he knows he’s hitting all the right spots when you’re slurring out swears and babbling nearly incoherently beneath him.

A bead of sweat drips down to the hollow of his throat. He glances down at where you’re joined, watching your sweet cunt stretch to swallow down his thick cock. A milky white ring has formed around the base. As many times as he’d pictured this exact moment, nothing in the most feral corners of his imagination could’ve conjured something so inherently erotic. Seeing his length disappear inside you over and over assures that he’ll never be satisfied with fucking his fist again, not after this.

The pad of his calloused thumb finds your swollen clit with ease. He rubs in tight, calculated circles, applying a little more pressure when you nearly shriek his name. He needs to see you come undone for him again.

“That feel good, love?” You nod. “Yeah? You like that, huh? Can feel that pretty pussy squeezin’ me. You’re takin’ me so well, honey.”

You’re barely coherent beneath him as he drives into that spot that keeps you breathless. He doesn’t know what you’re begging for, but you keep saying ‘please’. You’re trying so hard to keep your eyes on him, and they keep threatening to roll back. The sight only spurs him on.

Any semblance of control is lost when you warn him that you’re close again. Words of encouragement pour out like a fountain before he can process what he’s saying. Your whole body tenses, walls clamping down around his length in even pulses, and John folds himself over you, fucking you through the waves.

“Shit, I - oh, fuck! - John, I-I… I love you.” You struggle to get it out between pants and moan and whines, but his heart soars all the same. He ruts into you feverishly, peppering your face with sloppy kisses as he chases that high. There’s no controlling the near whimpers that escape him as your orgasm pushes him to the brink of his own.

“‘Bout to cum, baby. Where do you want it?” he sighs into your mouth.

“Inside - please, want you to cum inside me.”

That’s what does him in. He pushes as deep as he can, tip kissing your cervix as he pumps rope after rope of warm white into you. The edges of his vision blur. He can’t remember a time in his life that he’s cum so hard, but he knows it won’t be the last. Not when there are too many months to make up for.

One more kiss, and he whispers back, “I love you, too.”

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