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fairytaleendingss · 12 days ago

Note

hiiii!! i lurved your writing in the roommates fic so much and wanted to request a little something if you're keennnn. . .

i was thinking of this poly!marauders thing, where a reader who has previously been in a bad relationship (the extent of the bad up to you) gets into a relationship with the marauders and keeps trying to "test" their limits only to be met with patience and love. maybe leading to jumpiness from the reader as they feel it's all going to go south but it just never does? mayyyybe hurt/comfort and reassurance?👀👀

thankyouururu ofc no pressure 💕💕💕💕 love your work again

Thanks so much for the request hun! Sorry I've been a bit slow in responding but hopefully you enjoy!

Summary: Your ex boyfriend used to get mad at you for the littlest of things and you begin to wonder whether your new relationship will be the same.

Pairing: Poly!Marauder x fem!reader

CW: Talk of toxic relationships, reader being extremely insecure in her relationship, allusions to sex (only mentioned), brief mention of Sirius' abusive childhood, a disgusting amount of cheesy pet-names.

—

It started in a Tuesday night. You'd come home from a long shift at work that afternoon and had been so exhausted from the day that you decided to take a nap. You knew your boyfriends would all be home a little later and you figured you'd shut your eyes briefly and then get up in time to make them dinner before they arrived.

You had all moved in together only a month ago but you'd quickly slotted into routine when it came to chores. Despite all working weird hours at your respective jobs, it seemed that you were all able to fall into a steady rhythm, naturally configuring to each other's schedules in a way that just seemed to work.

So when you woke up a few hours later to the sound of the front door unlocking, you were sent into a full blown panic. You jumped out of bed frantically and rushed to the front door to see Sirius and James enter, chatting animatedly amongst themselves. Your heart was racing as a jolt of guilt pierced your stomach.

In the back of your mind, you could hear the voice of your ex boyfriend.

"You're so worthless, y/n! You always mess everything up."

Tears sprung to your eyes as you hurried into the kitchen, quickly filling a pot with hot water and throwing it haphazardly onto the stove.

Hearing the clanging of pots and pans, Sirius and James were allerted to your presence. However, they grew concerned when they walked into the kitchen to see you wiping tears from your eyes as you frantically gathered the ingredients to make pasta.

"Hey darling, what's going on?" James asked, reaching an arm out to grasp your wrist gently.

He cupped your face in his walm palms, using the pads of his thumbs to wipe the tears from your cheeks while Sirius peered over his shoulder, looking like a kicked puppy at the sight of your distress. '

"Please don't be mad," you choked out. The concern in their eyes did nothing to loosen the vice of guilt that was clasping itself around your heart.

"Why would we be mad, lovely?" Sirius stepped forward, resting a hand ever so gently on your shoulder, like he was scared you'd crumble under his touch.

"I wanted to make you dinner before you got home but I fell asleep and now your here and I haven't done it."

There was a moment of silence before James barked out a laugh. You furrowed your brows in confusion.

"Is that all this is about? Geez, love, you scared the shit out of me. I thought something was wrong."

You blinked up at him, perplexed by his response. "But I wanted to do something nice for you and I ruined it!"

"You didn't ruin anything, angel," Sirius cooed. "How about I give Remus a call and he can pick up some Chinese on the way home?"

"Sound's good to me," James responded keenly. Then he turned back to you.

"In the meantime, why don't we go and cuddle on the sofa for a bit. I could use it after the day I've had."

He guided you towards the couch but you couldn't help but glance back towards the mess you'd now made in the kitchen.

"But-"

"No buts," Sirius stated firmly. "I'm calling Remus right now. You go and relax."

Eventually you relented, however, you couldn't stop replaying the interaction in your mind. Even laying in bed that night, curled up with your boyfriends, stomachs full of takeaway, your mind went over the scene.

You couldn't fully comprehend what had happened. You just didn't understand it. Your previous boyfriend would never have let you get away with something like that.

He would've yelled at you, called you stupid and lazy and stood over your shoulder while you made his meal to make sure you didn't burn anything in your haste. That's just how things went. You looked after your boyfriends and when your failed, you got in trouble for it.

Only, Sirius and James had seemed so... understanding? Something about it made your heart stutter with unease. Maybe they were mad, you thought, and they were just too tired from work to tell you off. Maybe they were saving it up for the next time you had an argument.

Whatever it was, it twisted unpleasantly into your gut. Remus was also quiet tonight, he was probably mad at you for making him pick up food on the way from work and wasting his time. Maybe he was giving you the silent treatment, putting a distance in between you as a form of punishment.

Subconciously, you rolled over towards him, where he was nestled beside you and you felt him throw an arm over your waste, still it didn't serve to bring much comfort in that moment.

The next morning, you expected them all to confront you. To sit you down and reprimand you for your failure the night before. However, the blow never came.

Instead, they got dressed as usual, ready for work and one by one planted a kiss on your lips as they walked out the door. You supposed you should've been relieved but something in the back of your mind wouldn't let you. You couldn't shake the feeling there was something else at play here, some resentment building inside of them just waiting to burst out.

You couldn't help but wonder what it would take for them to snap.

The next time it happened was on Friday. Sirius wanted to take you out to a trendy new restaurant that had opened down the road and you'd all been very excited.

You wanted to make sure you looked amazing for your boys tonight which meant spending over an hour sifting through your wardrobe to find the perfect outfit.

At one point you pulled out a red dress you'd bought to wear to your friend's bachelorette party. It was short and tight and hugged all your curves perfectly. You pulled it from the wardrobe and tossed it aside instantly. You'd never worn in in front of the boys, but your ex always said it was inappropriate for you to wear in public while you were in a relationship and that it made you look like a hooker.

You paused then, for a moment, turning to glance at the piece of fabric where it lay on the bed. You bit your lip as you examined it and a silly idea crossed through your mind.

You knew in an instant it was a dumb thing to do, to test your boyfriend's limits like that, but a nawing curiosity plagued at you. In a moment of confidence, you slipped the dress on.

Walking, down the stairs, you braced yourself for impact. You were well prepared to be told you looked slutty, and that you'd have to change before leaving the house. You had a second, more conservative outfit layed out on the bed, ready for a quick change. But you just had to know for sure.

The boys were waiting for you as you walked down, all dressed up nicely. Their eyes widened when they fell on your form.

"Wow!" Sirius blurted, looking like his eyes were about to burst forth from his skull. "You look..."

You cringed. You knew they wouldn't like it. "Is it too revealing?"

James shook his head. "No baby, not at all. You look amazing."

You were taken aback by the comment, even moreso when Remus agreed with him.

"You look beautiful, dove," he complimented softly. "Besides, it's not up to us what you wear. You could go out in a paper bag for all I care and you'd still be the prettiest girl in the room."

Heat rose in your cheeks at his statement. "Really?"

"Absolutely!"

You're gaze then fell back to Sirius, who was standing in front of you, mouth agape, still at a loss for words as he stared at you.

You felt embarassed then. You shouldn't have gotten your hopes up with the other boys. You should've known it'd be Sirius who objected. He tended to be the most protective of the three of them.

"You don't like it?" You questioned unsteadily, already turning on your heel, ready to go back upstairs and change, when Sirius suddenly grabbed you by the waist.

"No, no, baby. I love it."

He pulled you towards him, eyes ablaze as he looked you up and down.

"You look so sexy. I think you should dress like this all the time."

A small smile formed on your face as you looked up at him. He licked his lips deviously.

"Alright, down boy," James teased, claping a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder. "We've still got to make it through dinner yet. You can rip her clothes off when we get back."

Sirius rolled is eyes dramatically.

"Oh alright then," he turned back to you briefly. "But get ready baby, because tonight I'm going to rock your world."

"Keep it in your pants would you? We're about to go out in public," Remus huffed, shaking his head exasperatedly and James all but dragged Sirius away from you. Remus then held an arm out for you to grasp.

"Shall we?" He asked, looking down at you fondly.

You nodded shyly, as the two of you headed towards the door.

Well, this definitely wasn't the response you'd expected.

You're next opportunity came just under a week later. Friday night had been very very fun but you still couldn't get the thought out of your mind that something was wrong.

You couldn't wrap your head around why the boys had been so nice to you. You're ex boyfriend would never let you get away with as much as you had. Surely there was something that would drive them over the edge. Anxiety niggled at the back of your mind. You felt on guard all the time over the last few days, like you were just waiting to find the thing that would trigger the walls to come crashing down around you.

You were laying on the couch, scrolling through TikTok when James came into the room, holding a bag of his dirty gym clothes.

"Hey, darling," he placed a kiss to your forehead. You responded with small smile.

"Shall I put this in the laundry basket for you to take care of later?"

You froze, a thought flashing through your mind. You knew he didn't mean anything by it. You always did the laundry, the boys just expected it. The same way that James always washed the dishes, Sirius vacuumed the floors and Remus took care of the dusting.

However, you couldn't help but wonder what he'd do if you didn't do it. Would he yell at you? Threaten to leave you?

The thoughts swirled in your mind. James rarely ever got properly angry. He was a good communicator and able to laugh things off for the most part. But what if you did something to really piss him off?

You had to know. You had to be able to prepare yourself in case it happened again.

"Why don't you do it yourself?"

You were surprised by the sound of the words as they came out of your mouth and you were immediately filled with guilt. You never spoke to your boyfriend's like that. Especially not sweet, loving James.

He raised his brows, startled by your response. He stood there for a moment, processing what you'd said.

Now I've done it, you thought. You bit your lip anxiously as you braced yourself for the fallout.

Then, James' features softened. He dropped the bag down on the floor and came to crouch by your head. With a gentle hand, he reached up to brush some hair from your forehead, eyes swimming with concern.

"Is everything okay, my love?" His tone was so affectionate that it made you want to cry. "Are you feeling unwell?"

You shook your head, continuing on with your ploy but confused about his response.

"N-no. I just don't feel like doing it today."

You shuffled away from his touch slightly, unsure of what his reaction would be.

James just smiled sympathetically. "That's okay."

"It is?"

He nodded sweetly. "Of course! We all need a break sometimes. You do the laundry every day, it makes perfect sense you'd be growing tired of it."

Your eyes widened.

"Don't worry about it, lovely. I'll take care of it today."

He plopped a sloppy kiss on your cheek and then stood up, whistling to himself as he scooped his bag off the floor and ventured into the laundry room.

You lay there in silence for a few moments, not 100% sure of what just happened.

It was two in the morning and you were laying awake in bed thinking. You had been laying there for a while, a plan formulating in your head. You slowly lifted Sirius' arm off you where it was splayed across your stomach and wiggled your way out of bed.

You were lucky that James had requested to take the middle position this evening, otherwise your mission would have been a lot more challenging.

You crept towards the kitchen, your feet light on the floor as to not alert any of the boys (Sirius was a notoriously light sleeper).

You took a deep breath as you made your way over to the pantry, moving towards the shelf you were looking for. The shelf that contained Remus' chocolate stash.

You hesitated. Was this a dumb idea? You'd seen Remus get mad at Sirius just a week ago when he'd stolen some of his chocolate. You knew that this was going to set him off.

But you just had to see. You had to know what would happen when they got mad at you. You couldn't stand the anticipation anymore.

Determinedly you grabbed a couple of mars bars off the shelf and quickly ate scoffed them down. Then you returned quietly to bed, knowing Remus would definitely notice in the morning.

"Okay, who ate my chocolates?"

You shrunk down on the couch, quickly becoming nervous at the irritation in his tone.

"Sirius, was it you again? Because I swear to god I told you last time-"

"It wasn't Sirius," you piped up, saving your boyfriend from an unwarranted scolding. "It was me."

The boys all turned to look at you, and slowly you met Remus' wide eyes. You braced yourself once more.

"Oh," he said. "Okay."

You looked up at him like he had two heads. "Okay? Aren't you mad? I stole your chocolate Remus."

He chuckled. "Dove, you bought me that chocolate. You can have some any time you like. We can get some more in the next grocery run."

"B-but you were so mad at Sirius..."

He flopped himself down on the couch beside you, running a hand affectionately through your hair. "Yes, because Sirius does it all the time just to spite me."

"It's true," Sirius called from his spot on the love seat.

"He hides it as well sometimes."

"What can I say?" the boy teased. "You're cute when you're mad."

Remus just rolled his eyes. "Anyway, darling, if your hungry, you're welcome to have some. I'm happy to share. You don't have to sneak it in the middle of the night."

You sat there in shock for a moment, not quite sure what to say.

"Oh, okay. Thanks."

You gave him a tight lipped smile but inside, the anxiety still bubbled on.

Over the next few days, you'd done many things to try and get a reaction from them. You came home late from work without telling them, you "forgot" to lock the front door after leaving the house, you even left all the lights on when you went to bed, something you knew Remus couldn't stand.

However, the worst you ever received was a gentle reminder. Instead of reassuring you, it made your stomach churn. Why were they being so nice all the time? Surely they had some kind of ulterior motive.

When the weekend came around, you decided you finally had enough. It was time to pull out the big guns.

"Hey love, do you mind making us a cup of tea?" Sirius had questioned innocently as you all sat huddled together, watching a movie.

"Of course," you'd responded, jumping up from the couch.

You'd put the kettle on and were removing the teacups from the cupboard when a horrible thought crossed your mind. These were Remus' mother's teacups. The ones he'd kept after she'd passed away. The other boys were so protective of Remus, you knew this was going to illicit some kind of reaction.

You took a deep breath.

CRASH

The teacup clattered to the floor, smashing into hundreds of pieces that scattered across the white kitchen tiles.

Regret consumed you the moment that you did it. Oh God, you thought. What had you done?

You immediately crouched down in an attempt to collect all the pieces and tears began to flood your eyes. The voice of your ex played in your mind once more.

"You're so pathetic. Look at yourself right now. How is anyone supposed to love someone as stupid as you?"

You choked on a sob as you heard the sounds of your boyfriend's footsteps rushing towards you. James got to you first.

"Sweetheart, is everything okay? We heard something break."

You looked up at him, the concern on his face and more tears came to your eyes. You choked on a sob when you realised that this was it. They'd probably break up with you when they saw what you'd done.

"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry," You choked out. "I know how much you loved these teacups Remus."

You spared yourself a glance towards his face. You expected him to look angry or upset or hurt but instead he just looked... worried?

"Dove it's okay," he walked towards you. "But you need to get off the floor, lovely. I don't want you to get cut by the glass."

You looked up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. "What?"

"I can help, I've got slippers on," Sirius stated and in a swift movement, he was lifting you up off the floor and setting you down on the counter, away from the dangerous shards.

This only caused you to sob more. Why were they being so kind?

"Why are you crying doll? Did you cut yourself?" Sirius asked gently, assessing your face with a hand cupped around your cheek.

You shook your head and sniffled pathetically.

"Then tell us what's got you so upset," James pleaded, looking like he wanted to cry himself. He was always the most sensitive of your boys.

You took a shaky breath. "Why won't you get mad at me?"

Remus looked taken aback. "Why would we be mad at you, dove? It was just an accident."

You sniffled and shook your head. You were on the verge of hysterics now.

"No it wasn't! I did it on purpose. You were supposed to be angry."

"What are you talking about?" James questioned, running a gentle hand along your back. You shrugged away from the contact.

"You're all too nice to me!" you exclaimed. "No matter what I do or how much I stuff up, you're always so kind about it! You're supposed to be angry sometimes!"

"Sweetheart," James murmured. "It's because we love you. Nothing you do will ever change that."

"Really?" you questioned unsurely.

"Of course, dove," Remus confirmed.

You looked up to Sirius to see that he was now looking down at you with a glisten of anguish in his eyes.

"So this is what's been going on? You've been testing us?"

You bit the inside of your cheek. You supposed he was right and suddenly you felt stupid for putting them through all you had for the last few weeks.

"I'm sorry, I'm a terrible girlfriend."

All of a sudden, you were smushed against Sirius' chest.

"No your not. You're wonderful," he muttered into your hair. "I understand, you know? I did the same thing when I ran away to James'. I just wished I picked up on it sooner."

"It's okay," you murmured, your tears finally beginning to slow. "It was silly."

"It wasn't silly, if it made you upset," Remus chimed in.

"Yeah darling, and you know you can come to us with anything? If you're feeling upset about something we want you to tell us," James added.

"I know," you sighed, pulling back from Sirius so you could look at all three of the boys. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, doll. What about this? We promise we will be honest with you if we're ever upset about something so you don't have to worry."

You nodded.

They smiled at you. And for the first time in a while, you're ex's voice vanished from your mind. You didn't need to worry about him anymore. You had your boys, and that's all you needed.

#marauders #james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #poly!marauders x reader #request

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hoesluvjude · 1 month ago

Text

Future Plans || jude bellingham

Word count : 1k

Genre: fluff

Author's note:Enjoy;)

Masterlist

The couch was soft, the room dimly lit. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, a testament to the candle Jude had lit earlier. You’d spent the better part of the evening watching an old movie, but now, the TV was off, and the room was silent save for the occasional hum of traffic outside.

Jude was sprawled out comfortably, his legs stretched across the couch. You were draped over him, your head tucked under his chin, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His arms were wrapped around you, one hand lazily tracing circles on your back while the other rested on your hip. He always had this way of holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

"You know," Jude began, a teasing edge in his voice, "I was thinking we should have ten kids."

You burst out laughing, the sound filling the quiet room. “Ten? Are you out of your mind?”

He grinned, clearly amused by your reaction. “Why not? Think about it—a whole football team! We could have family tournaments. And maybe an extra kid for the bench, just in case.”

You pushed yourself up slightly, giving him a mock-serious look. “Jude, do you have any idea how much chaos ten kids would be? The noise? The mess? The grocery bill?”

He chuckled, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. “Okay, fine. Maybe not ten,” he said, but there was something in his tone that made you squint suspiciously at him.

“Wait,” you said slowly, “you’re not entirely joking, are you?”

Jude’s grin softened into something more thoughtful, and he shrugged, looking almost bashful. “Not really,” he admitted. “I mean, maybe not ten, but… I do love the idea of a big family. Coming home to a house full of laughter and love. Watching them grow up together, always having each other to lean on.”

You smiled at the thought, imagining a little one with Jude’s warm eyes and infectious smile. “They’d be lucky to have you as a dad,” you said softly.

He tilted your chin up with gentle fingers, his eyes locking onto yours. “And they’d be lucky to have you as a mom,” he said, his voice filled with so much conviction that it made your throat tighten.

He smiled at you, a little shy, and then tilted his head. “Okay, so maybe ten is a bit much. What about you? How many kids do you want?”

You leaned back against his chest, pretending to think. “Hmm… Two feels like a good number. But four could be fun, too. A nice mix of boys and girls, maybe.”

“Two or four?” Jude repeated, his hand resuming its gentle pattern on your back. “Okay, I could get on board with that. Two feels manageable, but four does sound kind of perfect, doesn’t it? A little pack of chaos, just enough to keep things exciting.”

You smiled at the thought, imagining a lively home filled with tiny feet running through the halls. “Yeah,” you said. “Two or four feels right. But let’s not lock anything in yet. We’ve got plenty of time to figure it out.”

Jude nodded, his expression softening as he gazed at you. “We’ll figure it all out together,” he said.

You fell into another comfortable silence, the kind that only happens when you’re with someone who feels like home. You could feel Jude’s chest rising and falling beneath you, the steady rhythm soothing in a way you couldn’t quite describe.

“So,” Jude said after a moment, his voice teasing again, “what do you think about matching family pajamas for the holidays? Too much?”

“Way too much,” you said, laughing. But even as you teased him, you couldn’t help but picture it—a future filled with warmth and love and the kind of moments you cherish forever.

“You know,” Jude said eventually, a playful lilt returning to his voice, “we could always practice.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. “You’re incorrigible.”

He grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “And yet, you’re still here.”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice softening. “I am.”

Jude’s expression turned tender again, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you always want to be.”

You closed your eyes, letting his words sink in, and snuggled closer to him. In that moment, there was nowhere else you’d rather be. Our future might still be unwritten, but with Jude by your side, you knew it was going to be beautiful.

“Do you think we’ll ever get tired of this?” you murmured, your voice muffled against his chest.

Jude chuckled, a soft, musical sound that made your heart flutter. “Tired of what? You using me as your personal pillow?”

You pinched his side lightly, and he let out a playful yelp. “I meant us, silly. Being like this. Together.”

His hand paused on your back for a moment, and then he tightened his hold on you, pulling you impossibly closer. “Never,” he said firmly. “I could spend forever like this and still not have enough of you.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, and your breath caught in your throat. The way he looked at you—like you were his entire world—was enough to make your heart feel like it was going to burst. His eyes were soft and warm, his lips curved into a small, boyish smile.

“Forever, huh?” you teased, though your voice was soft, your own smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

He nodded, his expression turning serious. “Yeah, forever. And after that, if I can.”

“What about marriage?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I think about it all the time,” he admitted. “Waking up next to you every day, calling you my wife, knowing that you’re mine and I’m yours forever. It’s... it’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, and you buried your face in his chest to hide your smile. “You’re such a sap,” you teased, though your voice was thick with emotion.

He laughed again, the sound vibrating through you. “You love it,” he said confidently, and he wasn’t wrong.

You fell into a comfortable silence after that, the weight of his words settling over you like a warm blanket. You could feel his fingers start tracing patterns again, this time on your arm, and it made you shiver in the best way.

#jude bellingham #jude #jb22 #jb5 #fanfic #jude bellingham x reader #jude x reader #football #football fanfic

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vitalverstappen · 10 days ago

Text

Tradition - O. Piastri

summary: with you and Oscar having different traditions when it comes to the holidays, you figured you'd show him some of your favorites

pairing: oscar piastri x girlfriend!reader

warnings: none :) just pure fluff

word count: 2.4k

a/n: i have a few more holiday fics to post between now and Christmas, so keep a look out!

masterlist

It was common knowledge that the land down under experienced the holiday season a little differently than the rest of the world. Winter coats were swapped out for swimming trunks, the snow traded for sand, and the ham for a barbeque.

With the holidays falling over F1’s winter break, you often found yourself indulging in the Australian traditions in Oscar’s childhood home with his family.

But this year, Oscar decided to stay in the States for part of the break, allowing you to show your boyfriend some of your favorite holiday traditions. Oscar had always been a good sport about trying new things, so when you invited him to experience your Christmas traditions, he was more than eager to dive in.

Your hometown was nothing like the beaches and sunny skies of Australia, but it had its own charm - especially during the holidays. There was something about the frost in the mornings mixed with the twinkling lights lining every street that made everything feel extra magical.

Just like every holiday season, you were tasked with making all of the sweet treats that you would end up giving away to your relatives and neighbors. You and Oscar were in your parent’s kitchen, your family recipe book cracked open and all of the cookie ingredients spread out on the counter. You had to suppress a laugh as he looked up from the recipe book, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“Is it a bad time to admit I’ve never made cookies before?” He asked, a sheepish smile on his face

You smiled, flicking a small bit of flour at him. “Well, it’s about time you learned then,” you teased, grabbing a bowl and scooping in the sugar. “I’ll guide you through it. You’ll be a pro by the end of the day.”

Oscar chuckled, brushing the flour off his shirt and moving to grab the butter. “I’m trusting you here,” he said, his voice light, but there was a playful glint in his eye as he handed you the mixer. “If these cookies turn out terrible, I’m blaming you.”

You laughed and shook your head. “Deal. But if they turn out perfect, I’ll take all the credit.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable rhythm, with Oscar following your instructions as you mixed the dough together. Once the mixing was done, you dumped the dough out onto the floured counter.

“Alright Osc, put those muscles to use.” you teased, handing him the rolling pin

There was something unexpectedly charming about watching him, the professional athlete, fumble with the rolling pin and get flour all over his hands.

Oscar shot you a playful look as he struggled to roll out the dough evenly, his brow furrowed in concentration. “This is harder than it looks,” he muttered, clearly trying his best.

You laughed, leaning against the counter, admiring him as he worked. “I think you’re doing great for a first timer.”

Once the dough was rolled out and the flour was gone from Oscar’s hands, you grabbed the tupperware full of cookie cutters, dumping them out on the table. Your boyfriend’s eyes lit up at the numerous different shapes you had to offer - from stars, to candy canes, to trees.

Your eyes scanned the pile, looking for one cookie cutter in particular - the angel. It was your favorite, as a kid you would hog the cutter, and everyone knew the cookies had been made by you if they were given one in that shape. As you dug through the pile, the cookie cutter was nowhere to be found.

Frowning slightly, you continued to dig through the pile, hoping it would magically appear. You could feel Oscar’s gaze on you as you pulled out a snowflake and a reindeer shape.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

You let out a small sigh. “I can’t find my favorite cookie cutter. The angel one - it’s kind of a tradition that it’s the first shape we always make.”

Oscar glanced down to his hands, where a metal cookie cutter rested between his fingers. “Uh, you mean this one?” he asked

Your eyes followed his gaze, landing on the piece of metal. It was the angel cookie cutter. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize it had meaning,” he said as he stretched out his hand for you to take the cookie cutter, a rosy glow on his cheeks that you knew wasn’t from the cold outside.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, but didn’t take the cutter out of his hands. “Go ahead, make the first cut.”

Oscar’s eyes squinted slightly. “But didn’t you say it’s the first one you do?”

You chucked, shaking your head. “I never said who made the first one. It just has to be the angel.”

He raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “So you’re saying I get to make the first one?”

You nodded, still holding his gaze. “You get the honor. It’s a special tradition, after all.”

His smile widened, and he positioned the cutter over the dough. “Well, I better not fuck it up.” he joked, and with exaggerated precision, he pressed the cutter down, then carefully lifted it away, revealing the angel shape.

While your eyes rolled, your smile only grew at his overly serious approach. “Perfect.” you said, watching as he looked at his work with a mix of pride and amusement.

With the first cut made, the rest of the dough was soon transformed into a variety of festive shapes. Both of you anxiously awaited for the treats to be done in the oven, the smell of them baking taunting you with every whiff.

Once they were baked and cooled, you walked Oscar through various ways to decorate the various shapes. You chose piping bags full of frosting and festive designs that brought the cookies to life, but you couldn’t help but giggle at Oscar’s creative choices. Though they were colorful, they were definitely a bit on the messy side - a generous layer of frosting here, a heavy-handed mountain of sprinkles there. But his grin was infectious, and there was something endearing about the way he dove into decorating without a care for perfection.

A few days later, you and Oscar found yourselves, along with your parents, in the local botanical gardens. Every year, they would go all out for the holidays, decorating with thousands of lights, ribbons, ornaments, and anything else you could think of. The whole place transformed into a glittering winter wonderland, with towering Christmas trees, shimmering garlands draped along every path, and twinkling fairy lights illuminating the flowers and plants in a magical way.

Oscar’s eyes widened as you walked through the entrance, the beauty of the displays almost taking his breath away. “This is incredible,” he murmured, his gaze darting from one stunning display to the next.

You smiled, watching the wonder on his face. “Yeah, it’s pretty impressive, isn’t it? Every year, they do a different theme, but it always looks stunning.” You reached for his hand, feeling the familiar warmth of his touch as you walked side by side, taking it all in.

Your parents, who had grown accustomed to the spectacular sight, were already snapping pictures, marveling at how much work had gone into the displays. But for you, this place held a special place in your heart. Even though Oscar took you to the Royal Botanical Gardens Christmas displays when you spent the holidays in Australia, you had always preferred the one in your hometown - walking through the gardens with your family, admiring the decorations, and soaking in the holiday spirit.

As if he read your mind, Oscar leaned down slightly, his voice low so only you could hear. “I can see why you love this place so much. It’s something out of a Hallmark movie.”

“Yeah, all we need is the snow” you laughed, nudging Oscar playfully, earning a smile from him.

“It’s got to be cold enough for it.” He chuckled back

As you continued to wander through the gardens, your parents led the way, stopping at various displays to take photos. The air was crisp, and the scent of pine and cinnamon seemed to hang in the atmosphere. His bright orange (or papaya as he insists per McLaren) coat was a stark contrast against your black one as you walked hand in hand. The familiar warm fingers of his were slowly turning cold with every display.

You could feel the chill beginning to creep into Oscar’s hand, and you squeezed it gently, offering him a soft smile. “Are you getting a little chilly?”

Oscar chuckled slightly, his breath visible in the crisp air. “A little bit, yeah,” he admitted, trying to hide the slight shiver in his voice. “Guess I should’ve gone for more than just the winter jacket, huh?”

You smiled, rubbing your gloved thumb over his bare skinned fingers. “I told you a hat and gloves never hurt anyone.” you teased “But I know just the fix.”

Before Oscar could respond, you let him towards the cozy kiosk tucked under the trees, where steaming cups of hot chocolate and spiced cider were being served. The smell of cinnamon, nutmeg, and chocolate filled the air.

You both ordered hot chocolates, topped with whipped cream and sprinkled with cinnamon, and walked towards the greenhouses up the hill. The warmth from your drinks radiated through the cups, and the steam danced into the cold air through the sipping hole as you walked with Oscar hand in hand. The bright lights from the displays behind you created a soft glow against the darkening sky, making the scene feel even more magical. Oscar took a sip of his hot chocolate, and a content sigh escaped him.

“This is what I needed.” he said, his cheeks flushed from the cold, but his voice warm with satisfaction. “Never thought I’d be trying to warm up around the holidays. It’s always trying to stay cool.”

You laughed softly, taking a sip of your own hot chocolate as you walked beside him. “Yeah I bet it’s a bit of a shock.” you said feeling the warmth of the drink spread through you.

Oscar glanced at you, a playful smile dancing on his lips. “But I think I’m getting the hang of it. The holiday cheer, the decorations, the whole deal. It’s definitely different than the beach and BBQ’s, but it’s a welcome change.”

You nudged him gently, feeling the cold press in but still comfortable with him by your side. “You’re a fast learner.”

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling in the soft glow of the lights around you. “Hey, if it means I get to experience Christmas with you and your family, I’ll learn whatever I have to.”

The traditions and holiday excitement came to a close on Christmas Night. It was long after Oscar tried your mom’s famous Christmas honey ham and had stuffed his face with the cookies you had made days prior.

The fire crackled in the fireplace as you walked over to Oscar, who was cozied up with a blanket on the couch. Your parents had gone to the neighbors for some drinks - a tradition that predated your existence - giving you and Oscar some time alone.

Oscar, his face still rosy from the warmth of the meal, looked over at you with a half-smile. “That ham might’ve just changed my life,” he said with a gleam in his eye.

“Yeah, it’s always a hit. My mom’s been perfecting it for years.” you said as you sat down next to him, moving the blanket so that it was covering the both of you. “I’ll have to give you the recipe.”

“And the pumpkin pie recipe. That was incredible.” Oscar added, pulling you in closer.

You chuckled before planting a soft kiss on his cheek “I’ll see what I can do.” you said as you reached for the TV remote. “But there is one last thing I always do before I wrap up the holidays.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “Oh? What’s that?”

You smiled, feeling the familiar excitement bubble up inside you. It was a tradition you’d carried with you for as long as you could remember, and now it felt right to share it with him. “We watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas,” you said, already flipping through the streaming services to find it.

Oscar’s face lit up with genuine surprise. “Really?” he laughed, leaning back against the couch, clearly amused. “I’ve never watched The Grinch. I mean I know the story, but never sat down to see it.”

“You’ve never seen The Grinch?!” you exclaimed, eyes wide in disbelief. “That’s a crime, Oscar!” You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it. The movie was a staple of your childhood, how could someone not see it?

Oscar grinned, unbothered by your exaggerated shock. “Well, I guess I’ve been living under a rock.” He shrugged playfully, the grin never leaving his face. “But hey, I’ll give it a shot.”

“You better give it a shot.” You leaned over and snatched a nearby blanket, wrapping it around the both of you tighter as the movie’s opening credits began to roll on the screen. “Now I’m not gonna lie, the Grinch did scare me as a kid.” you admitted, settling back into the couch with a sigh. “But I’ve gotten past that.”

He let out a small laugh, his arm around you as you both snuggled under the blanket. “Scared? Really? I mean he’s definitely a bit creepy, but I didn’t think he was that terrifying.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You didn’t grow up with him lurking in your childhood nightmares,” you teased, nudging him with your elbow. “But now that I’m older, I’ve come to appreciate the weirdness of it all. Plus the heart growing scene at the end? Always gets me.”

Oscar nodded thoughtfully as he glanced at the screen. “I’m ready for my heart to melt then”

As the story of How the Grinch Stole Christmas unfolded, you could see Oscar becoming genuinely entertained by the outlandish prosthetic makeup, the ridiculousness of the Grinch’s antics, and the heart warming turn of events where the Grinch’s heart grows three sizes.

“That was… actually really good.” he said with a grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I can see why you watch it every year.”

“I told you,” you said, reaching for his hand as the end credits rolled, your voice barely above a whisper.

Oscar squeezed your hand back, his fingers warm against yours. “I’m glad I could spend this holiday with you.” he said, his voice sincere and gentle.

You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder as the screen faded to black. “Me too,” you murmured, your heart full of warmth as the holiday spirit wrapped around you, just like the blanket on the couch.

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sonamytrash · 4 months ago

Text

What Makes Us Human

Choso x F!reader

Tags/Warnings: Smut and fluff, P in V, oral sex, virgin Choso, penetrative sex, Fem receiving oral sex, squirting, lots of squirting, unprotected sex, creampie, Choso has a massive cock in this, Size kink, big dick, belly bulge, pregnancy kink, breeding, breeding kink, rough sex, Dom!Choso, virgin Choso goes feral and fucks reader something nasty. Not proof read.

Took me weeks to get this done, enjoy!

Banner by @cafekitsune

The evening was cloaked in shades of grey as the heavens wept their melancholic tears upon the earth. The rain outside beating a rhythmic pattern against the windows that seemed to serenade the city's chaos into a gentle lull. Thunder rumbled in the distance, hinting at the tempest that was to come.

Choso padded softly into the living room to find you there, a vision of serenity in the dimming light. Your hair fell in soft waves around your shoulders, wearing only a white shirt that clung to your dampened skin. You had the door ajar, allowing the cool breeze to mingle with the scent of damp earth filling the room. A cigarette smouldered in between your fingers while your gaze remained lost in the rain-soaked world outside.

Choso pauses, his eyes drawn to your serene figure illuminated by the dim light, his eyes drawn to the gentle rise and fall of your chest with each inhale and exhale as you brought the cigarette to your lips again, the ember burning a fiery red.

Your home was small but cozy, nestled comfortably on the outskirts of the city. It was a sanctuary for him and from the turmoil that had so far engulfed his life. He was greatful to you for allowing him to stay here, greatful for the warmth you had brought to his life in these past few months.

He watched you for a moment, unsure of what to say or do. The human customs of affection were still new to him, and he felt a strange mix of excitement and nervousness whenever he was around you. "You're going to catch a cold like that," he says, his voice echoing through the cozy living room. That sounded right, he'd heard that saying, that's what humans say to another human they don't want to get sick, humans they care for.

You chuckled, recognising his efforts with phrases as such that he was picking up, a slight smile playing on your lips as you turned your gaze from the rain to meet his over your shoulder. "Choso," you greeted, not bothered by his sudden appearance. "Care to join me?" You gestured to the space beside you with the hand holding the cigarette, the flick of your wrist sending a plume of smoke into the air.

He clears his throat softly, "Forgive me, I did not mean to intrude." His deep voice is tinged with a rare note of uncertainty. "I was simply curious about the storm." Choso moves to stand beside you, his gaze flickering between you and the rain-soaked world beyond the decking. "It's...quite enchanting."

You smiled affectionately at him, "It is." You reply, stood side by side, watching the rain together in a comfortable silence. The rain grew heavier, the rhythm increasing to a crescendo that matched the thunder's booming overture. Lightning flashed, briefly illuminating the room behind you, casting stark shadows on the walls. You didn't flinch, eyes never leaving the horizon as the storm played out its symphony before you.

You took another drag, "You know," you began, your voice a gentle whisper, "Humans find comfort in the rain. It's like nature's way of cleansing the world."

Choso nodded, his gaze still on your profile. He knew little of human comforts, but the peace he felt in your presence was unlike anything he had ever experienced. "It's beautiful," he said, breaking the silence. "I never knew rain could be... comforting."

You glanced at him, your eyes thoughtful. "You've lived a hard life, Choso. It's easy to miss the simple things." You took a final puff of your cigarette before extinguishing it in an ashtray on a small table beside you. "But now that you're here, you can allow yourself to enjoy them." You say, smiling softly at him.

Choso's eyes soften as he listens to your words, a small, sincere smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You speak words of wisdom." he murmurs, his deep voice tinged with a rare vulnerability. "As a half-human, half-cursed spirit, I've always struggled to reconcile those two halves of myself." He shifts slightly closer to you, his gaze filled with a quiet admiration. "But in your company, I find myself embracing my humanity more than I ever have before. It is frightening."

"Choso," you say, placing a gentle hand on his arm, "You don't have to hide from your feelings. They make you who you are, and I'm here to help you navigate them." Your hand feels warm against his skin, and he looks down from the sensation, then back up to meet your gaze.

The thunder rumbles closer, shaking the windows slightly, but you both remain unfazed. Choso swallows, his throat dry, his voice barely above a whisper, "You've shown me kindness that I never knew existed in this world." He pauses, the words sticking in his throat like a sudden lump. "I... I find myself feeling things for you that I don't fully understand."

You would be lying if you claimed not to reciprocate his feelings, you had grown to value his company in recent months. You weren't as naive to these newfound emotions as he was, but you didn't want your feelings to cloud his judgement as he navigated these emotions up until now, he needed to discover these things one step at a time.

You smile reassuringly "You're feeling human emotions," you said, your voice gentle. "It's natural, and it's also a gift. To know love, desire, to crave companionship—it's what makes us human."

The rain grew heavier, the room was bathed in a monochrome palette, the only color the occasional flash of lightning that pierced the gloom.

You leaned into him slightly, your hand gently coming up and brushing against his cheek. "We're all just trying to find our place in this world," you whispered, the sound almost lost in the cacophony of the storm. "And if you feel something for me, know that it's okay. I feel it too."

Choso's heart hammered in his chest, his eyes searching yours for any sign of rejection. The warmth from your hand seemed to spread through his entire body, igniting a fire he had never felt before. He reached out tentatively, mirroring you, his fingertips brushing against your cheek. "Can...can I?" he asked, his voice a barely audible.

You nodded, your eyes closing as his hand cradled your face, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "Yes," you murmured, your voice a soft invitation as you leaned closer to him.

The world outside seemed to hold its breath as Choso's lips met yours, the first tender touch of his unexplored feelings. His kiss was tentative, almost questioning, as if he feared he might shatter the moment with too much pressure. But your response was reassuring, your arms sliding around his neck to pull him closer, your mouth moving with a gentle urgency that spoke of your own desire.

His mouth began moving against yours with a hunger that had been building since he first laid eyes on you.

You pull away slightly, breathless, your eyes searching his for any sign of doubt. But all you see is a burning passion that mirrors your own. "Choso," you whisper, "are you sure about this?"

He nods, his gaze never leaving yours. "More than anything," his voice low and sincere. "I need you."

You smile, a warm glow lighting up your face, and kissing him again, your hands sliding down to his shoulders.

Choso's hands moved with a surprising gentleness as he unbuttoned your shirt, revealing the soft skin beneath. You felt his breath hitch as he took in the sight of you, and it was clear that this was new territory for him. "I want to know every inch of you."

Inbetween kisses and sweet nothings you both maneuvered to your bedroom, his eyes never leaving yours as you both shed the last of your clothing.

The air was thick with anticipation. His eyes studied you with a reverence reserved for the most sacred of rituals, taking in the beauty of your form as you lay before him. You felt a blend of excitement and vulnerability, but the way he looked at you, with such raw adoration, eased any apprehension.

Choso took a shaky breath, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. "I...I must confess, I have little direct experience with intimacies, and... the female form," he murmurs, his voice strained with a mixture of arousal and wonder. Tentatively, he raises a trembling hand, his fingertips ghosting over the soft swell of your breast beneath, "But I am...eager to learn," he breathes, his eyes smoldering with barely contained desire. "It's okay, Cho, we can take it slow." You coo.

He leans in, his mouth hovering over your skin, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if trying to commit the moment to memory. His lips touched you gently, a soft kiss that sent a thrill through your body. His movements grew more deliberate as he kissed a trail down your neck, across your collarbone, and further still, until he reached the swell of your breasts as you both back up towards the bed.

"These serve a nurturing purpose, and yet..." His thumb brushes over your hardened peak, eliciting a soft moan from you. "The sensation for the both of us is quite..." He hesitates, searching for the right word. "Intoxicating." His tongue flicked against your nipple, eliciting another gasp from your lips, and you felt his hands grip the bed sheets tightly as he continued to explore you. His inexperience was palpable, but it only added to the sweetness of the act. Each touch, each kiss, was imbued with a tentative curiosity that was as endearing as it was arousing.

"Choso...." you moan, "It feels good."

His tongue danced around the sensitive peak, teasing and nipping, his teeth grazing just enough to make you arch your back in response. He explored you with a focus that was both intense and innocent, as if he was discovering a new facet of existence.

His mouth found its way lower, and you felt his breath hot against your skin as he hovered over your most intimate place. He paused, looking up at you for permission, and the sight of his earnest gaze was almost too much to bear. You nodded, your eyes half-lidded with desire, and he took it as the invitation it was. Your suggestion of taking things slow seemed to have been forgotten.

Choso's breath hitches at the heady scent of your arousal reaching his nose, a primal growl rumbling in his chest.

"Your body calls to me in ways I cannot ignore." His hand slides lower, a groan rumbling in his chest as he feels your arousal. "You feel...exquisite."

His tongue traces the line of your folds, and you couldn't help but gasp as he tasted you. Carefully, he slips a finger inside you, his eyes drinking in your every expression.

"And you taste even better." He groans.

He returns to kiss and lick your cunt with determination, finding the spot that made your hips buck. You moaned, the sound almost lost in the symphony of the storm outside. His tongue worked magic, tracing circles around your clit before delving deeper, exploring your folds with a hunger that was as intense as it was inexperienced. You guided him with your hands, your nails digging into his scalp as you urged him on, your body responding to his every touch.

He was a quick learner, his movements growing more confident with each passing moment. His tongue danced over your clit, flicking and circling, as he pushed his fingers inside you, feeling you tighten around him.

You moaned his name, your hips rocking against his face. His fingers curled, finding that special spot deep inside that had you crying out and your legs trembling. His tongue continued to flick over your clit with a precision that made your hips buck and your toes curl.

You bit your lip to stifle a scream as he hit the perfect spot, his mouth working in time with the rhythm of your hips. His free hand held you in place, steady and sure, as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

With a final, intense flick of his tongue, you shattered, your body convulsing with pleasure. Your body tightened around his fingers, and with a gush, you squirted, the sweet release spilling out of you like a dam breaking. Choso's eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't pull away, instead, he watched with fascination as your body responded to his touch, your juices spilling out onto his face and the bed beneath you. His tongue lapping and sucking the liquid warmth of your orgasm as you writhed beneath him.

The sensation was overwhelming, your legs shaking uncontrollably as he brought you down from the peak. The pleasure washed over you in waves, each one more intense than the last, leaving you trembling and gasping for air.

Choso pulled back, a smug smile playing on his lips as he studied your face, the taste of you still on his tongue. His eyes shone with a newfound knowledge, a hunger that was insatiable. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs.

You look down at him, your chest heaving, your eyes glazed with pleasure. "Choso..." you whisper, reaching down to stroke his hair. "You're... extraordinary."

Threading your fingers through his hair, you gently guide him back to your level to kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips.

You reached up to trace the contours of his chest, sliding down his torso to grip his erection. He was hot and hard in your hand, the pulse of his desire beating against your palm. His eyes closed for a moment, a look of pure pleasure crossing his face as you began to stroke him, your hand moving in a slow, steady rhythm.

"How is it, Choso?" You ask him, your voice sultry and smooth as you kiss along his jaw, down his neck. "Does it feel good?"

Choso's cock was huge, a testament to his unorthodox heritage, Yet, there was something achingly human about the way he looked at you, the way his hands revered your body. It was a sight that could make even the most experienced of humans pause, but in that moment, all you felt was a thrill of excitement. The delicious moans that escaped his lips only further fuled your desire. "Fuck, s-so good, I need you." He rasps, pressing you down and positioning your legs. You watched as he took himself in hand, his eyes dark with desire as he guided himself to your entrance, As he positioned himself, you could feel the weight of him, the heat of his desire pressing against your folds as he rubbed his cock up and down, up and down, coating himself in your arousal.

Despite his earlier confession of being inexperienced in this area of intimacy, he seemed to know exactly what to do, while his actions were careful, they were also instinctive and primal. You spread your legs wider, giving him the access he needed.

As he slid into you, the sheer size of him made you gasp. Choso had always been a creature of formidable presence, but the reality of his human form was something you had not fully anticipated. He was massive, filling you completely and stretching you in ways that were both painful and exquisite. His eyes searched yours, watching for any sign of discomfort, but all you could do was moan wantonly, urging him deeper.

"You're so fucking tight," Choso groaned, his voice a guttural growl that seemed to resonate through the very air. "So wet for me." His words were crude, but the raw honesty in them only served to make you wetter, your pussy clenching around his cock. "You like it, don't you?"

You couldn't deny it. The feel of him inside you was unlike anything you'd ever experienced. It was as if he was tearing you apart and rebuilding you with every stroke, redefining what it meant to be filled. You nodded, biting your bottom lip to keep from screaming out, to no avail, the exquisite moans he was tearing from you were unlike any sound you had ever made before

"Yes," you managed to gasp out, your voice breathy and desperate. "More."

Choso grinned, "You want more?" he taunted, his hips driving into you without mercy. "Don't worry angel, I'll give you everything."

His words were a dark symphony that danced in your ears, fueling the fire that burned in your core. "Yes," you breathed, your voice a hoarse whisper. "Choso, Don't stop."

As he pushed deeper, more moans escaped your lips. You watched in amazement as your stomach began to bulge with his girth, the sight both surreal and erotic. Growing more pronounced with each thrust, a visual testament to his size.

"Look at that," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Look how much of me you can take."

His muscles flexed with every movement. Reaching his hand down to splay over the bulge of your abdomen where he was joined with you, his eyes filled with lust.

Choso's movements grew more confident as he felt your body accept him, your wetness easing his passage. The sensation of being inside you was overwhelming, the warmth and tightness unlike anything he had ever felt before. He groaned, his hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm that made your toes curl and your body ache with pleasure. Each time he pulled out, you felt a brief emptiness that was immediately filled as he pushed back in, the pressure building with every stroke.

"Is this...where babies grow?" he asks, his voice filled with awe as he fucks into you.

You felt the shift in his energy, the way his body tensed and his movements grew more powerful. You blush and nod, aroused further by his words as moans spilled from your lips.

Choso's eyes light up with a primal hunger, his cock twitching at the thought, the way your pussy spasms around his cock at his words doesn't go unnoticed. He asks you in a deep, gruff voice, "Do you want me to put a baby inside you?"

You gaze up at him, your eyes glazed with lust and your breath hitching at the raw, unfiltered desire in his question. Despite your suprise, you nod, your voice a shaky whisper. "Yes," you say, your heart racing. "I want that. I want to feel you fill me up." You whined, not entirely sure what you were saying, but in your aroused state of euphoria you would have let him do anything, and right now being filled to the brim with his cum sounded like heaven.

"Harder," you breathed, your voice thick with desire. "I want all of you."

His hips piston into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin. He feels your wetness coating him, the warm embrace of your body around his cock as he imagines how good you would look with heavy, milk laden tits and his baby growing inside you.

Choso's strokes become more powerful, as he contemplates the primal instinct that is taking hold of him. Choso's gaze darkens with a feral intensity, just a streak of his inhuman nature rising to the surface. He leans down to kiss you again, his teeth grazing your lower lip, his tongue delving into your mouth. His hips surge forward, his cock sliding deeper, and you moan into his mouth, the pleasure almost too much to handle.

He's a different man entirely, but you're also not complaining. You thought he might be a shy, awkward virgin that you would have to walk through the experience, but his lust has completely taken over his ability to think rationally and he has been instinctively guided through the whole process, and you don't mind one bit. It's fucking hot.

He starts to fuck you harder still, his strokes punctuated by the deep groan that rumbles in his chest. You wrap your legs around his waist and your breasts bounce with the force of his movements, he can't resist leaning down to capture one in his mouth, sucking and biting at the sensitive peak. The sharp sting sends bolts of pleasure through your body, making you cry out. He groans against your skin, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he drives into you.

You feel his muscles tighten, his strokes growing erratic as he approaches his climax. His eyes are wild, his teeth bared in a grimace of pleasure. You know he's close, and the knowledge sends a thrill through you. You want to feel him come inside you, to know that you've brought him to that peak.

Your body responds with a sudden, intense spurt of arousal, your pussy clenching around his cock in a display that leaves no doubt about your readiness to be filled. The warm, sticky fluid sprays around his shaft, coating him in your need.

"Oh, fuck, Choso!" you gasp, your body convulsing as you squirt uncontrollably, the sensation of his cock sliding through your wetness driving you wild. "Do it," you pant, your nails digging into his back, "Fill me up! Cum inside me!"

Choso's eyes go wide with surprise and lust at the sudden wetness that floods around his cock. His hips slam into you with a newfound ferocity, each stroke punctuated by a grunt of effort.

His strokes become more powerful, each one hitting deeper as he feels your warmth coating him. You're so wet that his cock slips in and out of you with ease, leaving a trail of your desire on his shaft.

"You're drenched for me," he murmurs, his voice a mix of amazement and lust. "You're begging for it."

You nod in agreement, unable to form coherent words as another wave of pleasure crashes over you. Your pussy spasms around his cock, sending another spray of fluid across his stomach and chest. The sensation is unlike anything you've ever felt, you've never consecutively orgasmed like this before, the feeling is somewhere inbetween euphoric and too much all at the same time.

His hands are everywhere, kneading your breasts, gripping your hips, guiding you to meet his every thrust. Your body responds to his touch, your pussy clenching around him, in your bodies desperate, overstimulated state and the room is alive with the sound of wet flesh slapping together.

With a final, deep thrust, Choso releases his seed, the hot spurts of his cum filling your pussy as your muscles contracting around his shaft, milking him for every drop. His hips bucking against you as he emptied himself inside you, his fingers digging into your skin.

Choso's chest heaved with the effort of his climax, his breath hot and ragged against your neck. For a moment, you simply lay there, his weight a comforting presence, his cock still buried deep within you.

Choso's grip on your hip loosened, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head as he kissed you deeply, his tongue invading your mouth with the same fierce need that had driven him into you.

"I think..." He pants, "I think I like being human."

#choso kamo #jjk choso #choso x reader #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen choso #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jjk fanfic

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ghostly--photography · 1 month ago

Text

Homesick for the Home We Made| A. Fantilli

Summary: Adam and Y/N have been inseparable since their college days at UMich, bound by a love that grew through the late nights, laughter, and unwavering support. Now, as Adam begins his professional hockey career with the Columbus Blue Jackets, their relationship faces new trials. From navigating the pressures of the NHL, the relentless spotlight, and the strain of long-distance travel, to coping with injuries and doubts, they fight to stay connected amidst the demands of his rising fame.

Word Count: 8986

University of Michigan, 2022

The nights they spent in the library became their little ritual, a comforting constant amid their busy college lives. Adam’s schedule was intense, between morning practices, back-to-back classes, and late-night studying, yet he’d always make time to meet her there, settling into their usual corner by the large window that overlooked campus. Tonight, like every night, he’d saved her a seat, draping his hoodie over the chair beside him so she’d know he was waiting.

When she arrived, a warm feeling washed over her, seeing him so intently focused, tapping a pen against his notebook. His brow was furrowed in concentration, jaw set in that familiar way, yet the moment he saw her, his face softened, a grin spreading across his face.

“Hey, you,” he said, slipping his arm around her shoulders as she sat down, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Missed you.”

She laughed, leaning into his side. “We were together this morning. You really missed me already?”

“More than you know,” he murmured, squeezing her shoulder. There was always something about him—a quiet warmth and sweetness that made her feel like she was the only thing in his world, even when he was balancing a million different pressures. He set his pen down, focusing his attention entirely on her, and she couldn’t help but smile.

They worked side by side for a while, falling into the easy rhythm they had developed over the months, sharing notes and sneaking little glances at each other. Occasionally, Adam would steal a quick kiss, his smile making her heart skip. It was these little moments that made her realize just how deeply she had fallen for him—the quiet understanding, the silent support, the shared smiles.

As they walked back to his dorm under the glow of the campus streetlights, a comfortable silence fell between them. The autumn air was crisp, and she felt Adam’s fingers tighten around hers, as if grounding her in that moment.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, stopping them both. She turned to face him, surprised by the sudden intensity in his gaze. “I’ve been wanting to tell you something.”

She felt her heartbeat quicken as he looked at her, the seriousness in his eyes sending a shiver down her spine. “What is it?”

He took a deep breath, glancing down before meeting her gaze again. “Y/N, I know we’re both young, and we don’t have everything figured out, but…I know I want this. I know I want you, in my life, no matter what.”

His words were a revelation, each one grounding her in a reality she’d hoped for but hadn’t dared to expect. She looked up at him, a soft smile breaking across her face as she felt a surge of affection. “Adam, I feel the same way,” she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. “You mean everything to me.”

He pulled her close, his arms wrapping around her in a hug that felt like a promise. She could feel his heartbeat against her, steady and reassuring. After a moment, he pulled back, looking down at her with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

“Let’s go inside,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with a mixture of excitement and vulnerability.

As soon as they closed the door, Adam’s hands found her waist, pulling her into a kiss that was soft at first but grew with an intensity neither of them could ignore. His hands traveled up her sides, sending a thrill through her, and she felt herself melt into him, her fingers tangling in his hair.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, his breath warm against her neck as he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers.

She nodded, her voice steady. “I’ve never been more sure.”

In that quiet room, they explored each other, savoring every touch, every kiss, as if they were making a silent promise to be there, to love each other no matter what life would throw at them. They moved together in a way that felt effortless, their bodies communicating a desire and trust that words could never capture. And when they finally lay side by side, wrapped in each other’s arms, she knew this was a memory she would carry with her always.

The room was filled with the quiet hum of their breathing as they drifted into sleep, the campus lights casting a warm glow through the window. Adam held her close, his fingers tracing light circles along her back as she rested her head on his chest.

“Stay with me tonight,” he whispered, his voice filled with a vulnerable hope.

She smiled, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Summer 2023, NHL Draft Day

The months flew by, and suddenly, it was draft season. Adam’s nerves were palpable, but he tried to hide them behind his usual smile, his arms wrapped around her as they waited for his name to be called. The night was electric with excitement, but beneath it, she could feel his tension, the anticipation of everything they had worked toward coming down to this single moment.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly, squeezing his hand. She could see the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, and it made her heart ache.

He nodded, flashing her a smile. “Yeah, just…a lot of pressure,” he admitted, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a calming rhythm. “But having you here…that makes all the difference.”

She smiled, leaning up to kiss him gently, trying to convey every ounce of love and belief she had in him. “You’ve got this. No matter where you go, you’re going to do incredible things.”

The moment his name was called, the room erupted into applause. She watched him, pride swelling in her chest as he hugged his family and friends, giving her a last, lingering look before making his way to the stage. It was a look that said everything he couldn’t put into words—a promise, a silent thank you, a reminder that she was part of this journey with him.

As the night wound down and the crowd thinned, Adam pulled her aside, his expression turning serious. They found a quiet corner, away from the noise, the celebration, and he took her hands, looking down at them as if collecting his thoughts.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen next,” he began, his voice soft, laced with a nervous vulnerability. “But I don’t want to do this without you.”

Her breath hitched as she realized the weight of his words, the unspoken question hanging between them.

“Adam,” she said, her voice shaking slightly, “are you saying…?”

He nodded, meeting her gaze. “Come with me. Move with me to Columbus. I don’t want us to be apart—I want us to figure this out together.”

Her heart skipped a beat, a mixture of excitement and fear welling up inside her. It was a big decision, a huge leap into an uncertain future, but as she looked into his eyes, she knew there was only one answer.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice filled with a quiet certainty. “I’m with you. Wherever you go, I’m right there.”

They held each other tightly, both of them feeling the enormity of what lay ahead. But in that moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, they felt an unshakeable confidence—a shared certainty that, together, they could face whatever challenges would come their way.

Later that night, in the quiet of the hotel room, they shared a moment that felt sacred. Their kisses were slower, deeper, filled with the promise of everything they had committed to. Adam’s hands were tender as they explored her, memorizing every inch of her skin, his touch full of reverence.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, his voice filled with awe and a hint of nervousness.

She nodded, her eyes meeting his. “Absolutely. I love you, Adam.”

He smiled, his hand cupping her cheek. “I love you too, Y/N. More than you’ll ever know.”

As they lay together afterward, tangled in each other’s arms, she felt a profound sense of peace. It was as if the entire world had shrunk down to this single room, to the quiet of their breathing, to the warmth of his body beside her. They had made a promise tonight—a commitment to face the future together, to stay by each other’s side, no matter what. And in that moment, she knew there was nothing they couldn’t face as long as they had each other.

Columbus, Ohio – Fall 2023

Moving to Columbus was a whirlwind for both of them. The new city buzzed with excitement for Adam’s arrival, and the Blue Jackets fan base was thrilled to welcome their young prospect. The city had a new energy, one that felt vibrant and alive, as Adam settled into his role on the team.

Adam and Y/N found a modest, cozy apartment downtown, close enough to the rink for his practices but far enough that they could enjoy some quiet time together. The place was small, but it was theirs, and they spent the first few weeks transforming the bare walls and empty spaces into something that felt like home.

Boxes were everywhere as they unpacked, laughing and bickering playfully over where things should go. Adam insisted on keeping his signed rookie stick leaning in the corner of the living room, while she countered with a set of cozy throw pillows she’d found on a shopping trip. Every little detail was a negotiation, filled with laughter and eye rolls that melted into shared smiles.

“You know,” she teased one night, standing in the kitchen with her hands on her hips, “if you’d let me put those curtains up instead of keeping that blanket over the window, this place might actually start looking like a real apartment.”

Adam grinned, tossing a pillow onto the couch before walking over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “You saying my decorating skills aren’t good enough?” he asked, nuzzling her neck.

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “I’m saying you’re better at scoring goals than picking out curtains.”

He pulled her closer, his voice dropping. “And which one of those is most important to you?”

Her cheeks warmed as she looked up at him, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Guess it depends on the context,” she murmured, her voice softening as their gazes locked.

The warmth in his eyes turned into something deeper, and he leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, filled with a mixture of tenderness and longing. His hands slipped to her waist, pulling her closer, and she felt herself melt into him, their bodies pressed together as if they were one.

They spent the rest of the night tangled together, exploring every inch of their new space in a way that made it feel truly theirs. It was as if each touch, each kiss, each whispered word was imprinting memories into the walls, filling the empty spaces with moments only they would know.

The honeymoon period of settling into the new apartment soon gave way to the challenges of Adam’s grueling schedule. Training camps, team practices, media obligations—it was a new rhythm, and it pulled him away from her more often than either of them had anticipated. Early mornings turned into long days at the rink, and by the time Adam got home, he was exhausted, barely able to muster up the energy for anything other than collapsing onto the couch.

At first, she tried to ignore the pang of loneliness that crept in during the quiet hours she spent alone in their apartment, filling her days with work, exploring the city, and calling friends from Michigan. But as the weeks went by, she couldn’t shake the feeling of missing him, even when he was right there beside her.

One evening, after a particularly grueling practice, Adam came home, dropping his bag by the door with a tired sigh. She could see the weariness etched into his face, his usual spark dulled by exhaustion. He offered her a faint smile as he kicked off his shoes, heading straight for the couch.

She sat down beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Long day?”

He nodded, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “You have no idea. I mean, I knew the NHL was going to be intense, but this… it’s next level.” His voice was low, almost defeated, and it tugged at her heart.

“Hey,” she said softly, rubbing his shoulder. “You don’t have to be perfect all the time. You’re allowed to be tired, Adam. It’s a lot to handle.”

He turned to look at her, his eyes softening as he took her hand, pulling her into his lap. “Thanks, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

They sat together in comfortable silence, her fingers brushing through his hair as he leaned his head against her shoulder. Slowly, she felt his breathing even out, and she realized he’d fallen asleep, his arms still wrapped around her. She smiled to herself, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

The following morning, she woke up to find him already gone, his side of the bed cold, a note on the nightstand that read: Couldn’t wake you. Wanted you to sleep in. I’ll be home as soon as I can. Miss you already.

It was the kind of note that left her heart aching in the best way, but also reminded her of the distance that had crept between them, even in their shared space.

Despite the challenges, they found ways to make it work, weaving small routines into the chaos. She’d pack his lunch, slipping little notes into his bag—inside jokes, or silly sketches of the two of them—that he’d find in between drills. And on nights when he got home early enough, they’d cook together, laughing as they danced around the kitchen, turning the simplest tasks into cherished rituals.

One night, they were attempting to make pasta—a meal that turned into a bit of a disaster when Adam managed to overcook the noodles. He looked at the pot with a mixture of defeat and confusion.

“Who knew pasta could be so difficult?” he groaned, looking over at her with a sheepish grin.

She laughed, wrapping her arms around him from behind. “It’s okay. You might be terrible at cooking, but you’re still my favorite person.”

He turned around, pulling her into a hug. “Yeah? Even when I mess up pasta?”

“Especially when you mess up pasta,” she replied, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

They ended up ordering takeout, curling up on the couch as they ate, laughing over the mess they’d left in the kitchen. It was moments like these, filled with warmth and laughter, that reminded them both of why they were doing this—of the love that had brought them together and continued to hold them close, even through the difficult days.

One Friday evening, after a particularly intense game, Adam returned home, his energy still buzzing from the win. She greeted him at the door with a warm smile, feeling her own excitement swell as he swept her up into his arms, spinning her around.

“We won, babe!” he said, his grin infectious. “I can’t believe it—it was insane! I thought we were done for in the third period, but we pulled it off.”

She laughed, holding onto him as he set her down, his arms still wrapped around her. “I’m so proud of you, Adam. You were amazing out there.”

His eyes softened, and he pulled her closer, resting his forehead against hers. “Couldn’t have done it without knowing you’re here, waiting for me,” he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity.

In that moment, she felt her heart swell with love, the struggles and loneliness of the past few weeks fading away as they held each other. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that was soft at first, filled with a mixture of gratitude and longing. But soon, the kiss deepened, fueled by the passion that had been simmering beneath the surface.

They moved together to the bedroom, his hands exploring her as if he were memorizing every inch of her. Their kisses were slow and deliberate, each touch a reminder of the love they shared, the commitment they’d made to each other. They undressed slowly, savoring the intimacy, the connection that felt so much deeper after the time they’d spent apart.

Afterward, they lay tangled in each other’s arms, their breaths mingling as they whispered to each other in the quiet darkness. He told her about the game, sharing the small details he usually kept to himself—the nerves, the pressure, the way he’d thought of her during every break. And she listened, feeling closer to him than ever before, her fingers tracing light patterns along his chest.

As the night wore on, they drifted into a peaceful sleep, feeling a renewed sense of connection. For the first time in weeks, they both felt truly at home.

The next morning, she woke up to the smell of coffee and the sound of soft music coming from the kitchen. She padded out of the bedroom, smiling when she found him standing by the stove, humming along to the song as he cooked.

“Look who’s trying to make up for last night’s pasta disaster,” she teased, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind.

He laughed, turning around to kiss her. “I figured breakfast was the least I could do,” he said, grinning as he handed her a cup of coffee.

They spent the morning together, sharing a quiet breakfast, laughing and talking about their plans for the weekend. It was a simple, unremarkable moment, but to both of them, it felt like a little slice of happiness—a reminder of why they were doing this, and how much they meant to each other.

As they sat there, her hand in his, she felt a sense of contentment

Columbus, Ohio – Winter 2023

As the season progressed, Adam’s name began to pop up more frequently in the media. Headlines praised his impressive rookie performance, and clips of his plays trended on social media almost every week. Fans posted nonstop about his potential, and interviews with him were filled with questions about his goals and his future with the Blue Jackets. At first, it was exhilarating for both of them. Watching him on the ice, seeing how the city celebrated his success, made her heart swell with pride.

But as his fame grew, so did the pressures and the expectations. More demands on his time left him exhausted and often distracted. Nights out were frequently interrupted by fans wanting photos, or journalists eager for a quote, which Adam always handled with a smile, never wanting to disappoint anyone. She admired his dedication, but she began to feel as if they were sharing less and less of their world together.

One evening, after a particularly demanding week, they went out for dinner, hoping to carve out some time just for the two of them. But even in the cozy, dimly lit restaurant they’d chosen, whispers followed them, and a few fans approached their table.

“Hey, Adam, big fans—would you mind signing something for us?” one of them asked, an excited look on her face. Adam glanced at Y/N apologetically, but she gave him a small nod, urging him to go ahead.

He returned to their table after a few minutes, reaching for her hand, his face slightly flushed. “Sorry about that,” he murmured, his thumb tracing over her knuckles. “Guess this comes with the territory.”

She managed a small smile, but there was a twinge of something she couldn’t ignore—something that felt like loneliness. “It’s okay,” she said, keeping her tone light. “I’m just still getting used to sharing you with everyone.”

He looked at her, his expression softening as he realized the weight of her words. “You’ll never have to share me, Y/N. Not really. You know that, right?”

She forced a nod, but a part of her couldn’t ignore the growing fear that, eventually, the world might take too much of him. She squeezed his hand, trying to push the thought away. “I know,” she whispered, hoping she sounded more certain than she felt.

As the season wore on, the distance between them felt less like an occasional inconvenience and more like a permanent shadow that loomed over their relationship. Adam was constantly traveling for away games, and even when he was home, his mind was often preoccupied with training or strategies. The rare moments they did spend together were often late at night, with him collapsing into bed beside her, exhausted, barely able to keep his eyes open as he murmured a sleepy “Goodnight.”

One evening, she finally couldn’t keep it bottled up any longer. They were sitting on the couch, him scrolling through his phone, catching up on game footage, when she spoke.

“Adam,” she began, her voice quiet but steady. He looked up, noticing the serious expression on her face.

“Yeah?” He set his phone down, his attention fully on her.

She took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “I just…I miss us. I feel like we’re always together, but I’m not really with you. Not the way we used to be.”

A flicker of guilt crossed his face, and he reached for her hand. “Y/N…I know it’s been tough. I feel it too. I don’t want you to feel like I’m drifting away. I’m just trying to keep up with everything, you know? The team, the media, the expectations…it’s all so much.”

Her heart softened, and she placed her hand on his cheek, her thumb brushing over his skin. “I know, and I’m so proud of you. But I need you too. Not the player, not the celebrity—just you.”

He pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her as he pressed his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re my whole world, Y/N. I don’t want to lose us in all of this.”

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding him close. “Then let’s make time for each other. Even if it’s just little moments. I don’t want us to get lost in the noise.”

They sat like that for a long time, wrapped in each other’s warmth, a silent agreement passing between them. They promised each other that, no matter what, they would find ways to stay connected, to hold onto the love that had brought them together in the first place.

A few weeks later, Adam surprised her with a weekend getaway. He booked a small cabin an hour outside the city, nestled in the woods, where they could disconnect from the world and just be together.

As they drove up to the cabin, she felt a thrill of excitement, the tension of the past few months melting away. The cabin was cozy, with a fireplace crackling in the corner, and a view of the snow-covered trees outside. They spent the first day simply enjoying each other’s company, cooking together, sharing stories, and laughing like they hadn’t in months.

That night, as they sat by the fire, wrapped in blankets, he pulled her close, his fingers tracing light patterns along her arm. “I missed this,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of tenderness. “I missed just being with you, away from everything else.”

She looked up at him, her heart swelling with love. “Me too,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him. The kiss was slow, unhurried, as if they had all the time in the world. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her onto his lap as he deepened the kiss, their breaths mingling in the quiet warmth of the room.

They moved together with a renewed passion, savoring each touch, each whisper. It felt like a rediscovery of everything they loved about each other, a reminder of the connection that went beyond the demands of his career. They undressed slowly, their bodies pressed together as they explored each other, the intimacy of the moment grounding them in a way that nothing else could.

Afterward, they lay tangled in each other’s arms, the glow of the fire casting a warm light across the room. She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling a peace she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“I love you,” he whispered, his fingers brushing through her hair. “More than anything. Thank you for being here, for sticking with me through all of this.”

She smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest. “I love you too, Adam. Always.”

They drifted into a peaceful sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms, knowing that, no matter how tough things got, they would always find their way back to each other.

The weekend away renewed their strength, but as they returned to Columbus, the pressures of Adam’s career quickly crept back in. Yet, this time, they both held onto the memory of the cabin, the quiet promises they’d made to each other. They made an effort to carve out little moments—a morning coffee shared in comfortable silence, a late-night drive to clear their heads, a quiet dinner in their favorite restaurant where they could be just two people in love.

One evening, as they sat on the couch after another long day, she rested her head on his shoulder, feeling a sense of contentment she hadn’t felt in months.

“Do you ever wonder if it’ll get easier?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He looked down at her, a gentle smile on his face. “Sometimes. But even if it doesn’t, I know we’ll get through it. We’re in this together, right?”

She smiled, her fingers lacing with his. “Always.”

In that moment, she knew that, no matter how intense the pressures of his career became, no matter how many obstacles they faced, they would find a way to hold onto each other. They were each other’s constant, the quiet strength that carried them through the noise and chaos. And in the end, that was all they needed.

Later that night, as they lay in bed, Adam pulled her close, his hands tracing light circles along her back. “Thank you for being my rock,” he murmured, his voice filled with warmth. “For always understanding, even when I’m not around as much as I want to be.”

She looked up at him, her heart swelling with love. “You’re worth it, Adam. Every second.”

He leaned down, capturing her lips in a slow, tender kiss, filled with all the gratitude and love he couldn’t put into words. They moved together, their bodies fitting perfectly, each touch a reminder of the promises they had made to each other. In the quiet darkness, they shared a connection that went beyond words, a love that was steadfast and unbreakable.

As they lay together afterward, wrapped in each other’s arms, she felt a renewed sense of peace, a quiet certainty that, no matter where life took them, they would always find their way back to each other.

Michigan and Beyond – Summer 2024

The off-season finally arrived, and with it came a long-awaited break from the demands and pressures of the NHL. For the first time in months, Adam didn’t have to rush off to practices, interviews, or endless travel. He was just…Adam, the guy she’d fallen in love with back in college, and for a few precious months, they were able to live without a schedule dictating every hour of their day.

It was late June when they decided to visit Michigan, eager to revisit the place where their journey began. The drive back was filled with a comfortable silence, punctuated by laughter and the occasional off-key singing as they played their favorite songs from their college days. The familiar landscape rolled by, the roads bringing back memories of late-night drives, coffee runs, and spontaneous adventures.

When they arrived, the University of Michigan campus was quieter, the summer break leaving the buildings mostly empty. They parked the car and walked hand-in-hand through the familiar paths, the air filled with nostalgia.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” Adam asked, glancing down at her with a soft smile. “I couldn’t even focus on practice that day. My teammates gave me so much grief for being distracted.”

She laughed, nudging him playfully. “I remember you nearly walked into a door because you were staring at me.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Hey, I couldn’t help it. You looked…amazing. Still do.”

They wandered around the campus, revisiting their favorite spots—the library where they’d spent countless nights studying together, the little café where they had their first date, the rink where she’d cheered him on at every game. Each place held a memory, and they spent hours reminiscing, sharing stories and laughing at all the little things that had brought them together.

That evening, they drove out to a secluded lake where they had often gone during their college years to escape the world for a while. The sun was setting, casting a warm golden glow over the water, and the quiet of the place wrapped around them like a comforting blanket.

Adam spread out a blanket on the shore, and they lay side by side, watching the sky transform from soft pinks and oranges to deep purples and blues. He reached for her hand, lacing his fingers with hers, and she looked over at him, her heart swelling with love.

“You know,” he began, his voice soft and thoughtful, “coming back here with you… It reminds me of how lucky I am to have you in my life. I don’t say it enough, but I don’t know where I’d be without you, Y/N.”

She felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, her heart fluttering at his words. “Adam, I feel the same way. Being here with you, away from everything else, it’s like…this is how it’s supposed to be. Just us.”

They shared a long, lingering kiss, their bodies pressed close as the cool evening breeze rustled around them. There was something grounding about being in that familiar place, surrounded by nature, with nothing but each other. They moved together in the fading light, every touch filled with tenderness, every kiss a promise of the love they’d built and the future they would share.

They spent the night lying on the blanket, watching the stars, talking about their dreams, their fears, and their plans for the future. It was a rare, cherished moment, the kind that only came when time seemed to stand still, and they could simply be together, with no demands or expectations.

The next day, they set out on a road trip across Michigan, stopping at small towns, scenic overlooks, and quirky little roadside attractions. The freedom of the open road was exhilarating, and they filled the trip with laughter, silly selfies, and spontaneous detours.

At one point, they stopped at a little antique shop in a small town, where she found a vintage record player she’d always dreamed of having. Adam insisted on buying it for her, despite her protests.

“Come on, it’s perfect for our apartment,” he said with a grin, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “And we’ll fill it with all our favorite records.”

She rolled her eyes, but her heart warmed at the gesture. “You’re spoiling me, you know that?”

He shrugged, a playful smile on his lips. “Well, you deserve to be spoiled.”

They ended up spending half the day exploring the shop, picking out records and laughing over the quirky finds. It was a small, simple moment, but it felt like a piece of happiness, one of those memories that would stay with them long after the road trip was over.

Their last night in Michigan, they decided to revisit their favorite college bar—a little dive just off campus where they had spent countless nights with friends, celebrating wins and commiserating over losses. They ordered their usual drinks, laughing as they slipped back into the carefree atmosphere of their college days.

The bar was filled with students, and a few of them recognized Adam, offering congratulations on his success with the Blue Jackets. He smiled, thanking them graciously, but he kept his attention on her, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist as if grounding himself in the present.

They danced to the old songs they’d loved in college, laughing as they spun each other around, letting loose in a way they hadn’t been able to in months. There was something freeing about being there, away from the eyes of the media, away from the pressures of his career. For that night, they were just Adam and Y/N, two people who had fallen in love in a little college town, and it felt like nothing else mattered.

As they left the bar in the early hours of the morning, he pulled her close, his voice soft in her ear. “Thank you for this,” he murmured, his eyes filled with gratitude. “For everything. I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

She smiled, leaning up to kiss him. “We’re both lucky, Adam.”

They walked back to their car, hand in hand, feeling a renewed sense of connection, a reminder of everything that had brought them together.

When they finally returned to Columbus, they spent the next morning lounging around their apartment, savoring the last moments of their time off. They made breakfast together, laughing as they danced around the kitchen, stealing kisses between flipping pancakes and sipping coffee.

After breakfast, they curled up on the couch, wrapped in a cozy blanket as they listened to the records they’d bought on their trip. The soft melodies filled the room, and they sat in comfortable silence, her head resting on his shoulder, his arm draped around her.

“Do you ever think about the future?” she asked quietly, breaking the silence.

He looked down at her, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, all the time. Especially when I think about you.”

She smiled, feeling a flutter of excitement at his words. “What do you see?”

He took a deep breath, his gaze softening. “I see us. Maybe a house someday, a place we can really make our own. And…maybe a family, if that’s what you want.”

Her heart skipped a beat, her cheeks warming. “I’d like that,” she whispered, feeling a mixture of excitement and hope.

He pulled her closer, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Then that’s what we’ll have.”

They spent the rest of the morning wrapped in each other’s arms, talking about their dreams and the life they wanted to build together. It was a quiet, precious moment, a promise of the future they were creating, step by step.

As the off-season came to an end, they spent their last days together savoring every moment. They took long walks around the city, went on picnics, and spent late nights watching movies, laughing and holding each other close. Each moment was a reminder of the love they shared, the foundation they had built, and the dreams they had for the future.

On their final night before the season began again, Adam surprised her with a romantic dinner on their balcony, stringing up fairy lights and setting the table with candles and flowers. They spent the evening under the stars, sharing stories, laughter, and quiet, lingering kisses.

As the night drew to a close, he took her hand, his eyes filled with love and a quiet intensity. “Whatever happens this season, wherever this career takes me, I want you to know that you’re my priority. You’re the one thing that keeps me grounded, that reminds me of who I am. I’ll never lose sight of that, or of you.”

She felt her heart swell, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “I know, Adam. And I’m here for you, no matter where this takes us. I love you.”

They shared a kiss under the stars, their hearts full of hope and promise. As they held each other close, they both knew that, no matter how demanding life became, they would always find their way back to each other. Their love was their anchor, their constant, and it was a promise that neither of them would ever break.

Columbus, Ohio – Mid-Season 2024

The season was in full swing, and Adam had been pushing himself harder than ever, determined to keep up with the demands of his growing career. Game after game, he poured everything he had into the ice, always eager to improve, to prove himself. But one night, after a particularly intense game, everything changed in an instant.

She was watching from the stands, cheering as usual, when she saw him go down. It was a rough play, and in a split second, Adam crashed to the ice, clutching his leg. Her heart stopped, a cold fear gripping her as she watched him wince in pain, his teammates gathering around him. The medical staff rushed onto the ice, helping him up, but the look on his face told her everything she needed to know—it wasn’t just a bruise or a scrape. Something was wrong.

After what felt like an eternity, they helped him off the ice, and she could see the strain in his face as he tried to put weight on his leg. Her stomach twisted as she rushed down to meet him, her mind racing with worry.

When she reached the locker room, she found him sitting on the bench, an ice pack pressed to his knee, his face pale. He looked up when he saw her, offering a weak smile, but she could see the frustration and fear in his eyes.

“Adam,” she whispered, rushing to his side. “Are you okay?”

He shrugged, letting out a bitter laugh. “Not really. Doc says it’s a sprain, maybe worse. They’re running more tests tomorrow.”

She sat beside him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Adam. You’re going to get through this.”

He nodded, but she could see the tension in his jaw, the way his hands clenched into fists as he struggled to hold back his frustration. “I just… I can’t believe this happened. I’ve been so careful, doing everything right, and now this? Right in the middle of the season?”

She reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “Hey, don’t think like that. This is just a setback, okay? You’re going to heal, and you’ll come back stronger. You’ve overcome so much already.”

He looked at her, his eyes softening as he took a deep breath. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

They sat there for a while, her hand in his, both of them absorbing the reality of the situation. She could feel his vulnerability, the weight of his disappointment and fear, and it broke her heart to see him like this. But she was determined to be there for him, to support him through every step of his recovery.

The following days were a blur of doctors’ appointments, physical therapy sessions, and long, quiet evenings in their apartment. Adam was restless, the injury weighing heavily on him, and she could see how much it affected him. He tried to keep his spirits up, but there were moments when the frustration and doubt would creep in, clouding his usually optimistic outlook.

One evening, she found him sitting on the couch, staring at the floor, his shoulders slumped. She walked over, wrapping her arms around him from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked gently, her voice soft.

He let out a heavy sigh, leaning back into her embrace. “I just feel…helpless. Everyone’s out there, giving it their all, and here I am, stuck on the sidelines, watching them. I don’t know how to just sit and wait.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, her arms tightening around him. “Adam, you’re not alone in this. You have the whole team behind you, and you have me. We’ll get through this, one day at a time.”

He turned to look at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and sadness. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

She shook her head, cupping his face in her hands. “You do. You deserve all the love and support in the world. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He pulled her into a kiss, his hands gentle yet full of need, as if grounding himself in the comfort of her presence. She could feel the weight of his emotions, the vulnerability he rarely showed, and she held him close, offering all the reassurance she could.

That night, as they lay in bed, she could feel his tension, the worry that gnawed at him even as he tried to rest. She reached over, tracing light patterns along his arm, her fingers gentle and soothing.

“Adam,” she whispered, her voice barely audible in the darkness.

He turned to face her, his expression softening as he looked at her. “Yeah?”

She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. “I know this is hard, and I know it’s frustrating. But I need you to know that this doesn’t change anything—not who you are, not what you mean to me. You’re still the same person, still the man I fell in love with.”

He reached for her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers. “I needed to hear that,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Sometimes I feel like…like I’m letting everyone down.”

She shook her head, her gaze fierce. “You’re not letting anyone down. You’re human, Adam. You’re allowed to have setbacks, to feel frustrated. But you’re also strong, and you’re going to get through this. And I’ll be here every step of the way.”

He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her as he buried his face in her hair. They lay together in the quiet darkness, their breaths mingling as he let go of the fears he had been holding onto, surrendering to the comfort of her presence.

As the days turned into weeks, they settled into a new routine, one built around his recovery. She accompanied him to his physical therapy sessions, offering words of encouragement and holding his hand when the exercises became challenging. She could see the determination in his eyes, the way he pushed himself even when it was difficult, and it filled her with pride.

One afternoon, as they returned from a therapy session, he looked over at her, a small smile on his face. “You know, I couldn’t do this without you,” he said, his voice filled with gratitude. “You make it all a little easier.”

She smiled, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “I’ll always be here, Adam. We’re in this together.”

They spent the evening cuddled up on the couch, watching movies and sharing quiet moments of laughter. The injury, though difficult, had brought them closer in ways they hadn’t expected, revealing a strength in their relationship that went beyond the highs and lows of his career.

One night, after weeks of hard work and slow progress, Adam managed to walk unaided, taking a few steady steps across the room. She watched, her heart swelling with pride as he grinned at her, his eyes bright with excitement.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice filled with joy. “I’m getting there.”

She rushed over, wrapping her arms around him, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You’ve come so far.”

They shared a long, lingering kiss, their hands exploring each other as if rediscovering the love they had nurtured through the challenges of his recovery. That night, they moved together with a renewed sense of passion, each touch filled with gratitude, each kiss a reminder of the strength of their love. They lay together afterward, wrapped in each other’s arms, a quiet peace settling over them.

As they drifted into sleep, she felt a renewed sense of hope, a quiet certainty that, no matter what challenges they faced, they would always find their way back to each other.

When Adam was finally cleared to return to the ice, he was filled with a mixture of excitement and nerves. She watched from the stands, her heart pounding as he stepped onto the rink, his movements tentative at first but growing more confident with each stride.

As he skated, he looked up at her, offering a small, reassuring smile. She waved, her heart swelling with pride as she saw him back in his element, a part of the team once again.

After practice, he rushed up to her, pulling her into a tight embrace. “I did it,” he whispered, his voice filled with relief and joy. “I’m back.”

She hugged him tightly, her voice filled with pride. “I never doubted you, Adam. Not for a second.”

They shared a kiss, the world around them fading as they held each other, their love a constant in the whirlwind of his career. They had faced the challenge together, and they had come out stronger, their bond deeper than ever before.

That evening, as they returned home, they sat on the balcony, watching the city lights twinkle in the distance. Adam took her hand, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along her skin.

“Thank you for being there for me,” he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

She smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m the lucky one, Adam.”

They sat together in comfortable silence, their hearts full of love and hope for the future. As they watched the stars, they knew that, no matter what lay ahead, they would face it together, their love a constant light in the journey they had chosen to walk side by side.

Columbus, Ohio – Spring 2025

The season had been a wild success, both for the team and for Adam personally. With each game, he’d made his mark, proving himself not only as a strong player but as a dependable teammate and leader. But tonight was something extra special: Adam had reached a major career milestone—his 100th NHL goal.

Y/N watched from the stands, her heart racing as she saw the puck soar into the net, the entire arena erupting in cheers. She jumped up, clapping and cheering along with the crowd, a wave of pride swelling inside her. She caught his eye from across the rink as he skated back toward the bench, and he pointed up at her, a private little gesture that made her heart skip.

When the game ended, the crowd was still buzzing with excitement, chanting his name as he made his way off the ice. Y/N hurried down to the locker room, her cheeks flushed, anticipation bubbling up inside her as she waited to congratulate him.

The locker room was a whirlwind of laughter and celebration, his teammates congratulating him and slapping him on the back. When he finally spotted her waiting by the door, he broke into a grin, jogging over to pull her into his arms.

“Adam, I’m so proud of you!” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “One hundred goals—you did it!”

He laughed, his eyes shining with excitement as he lifted her off the ground in a tight hug. “We did it,” he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

They shared a quick, private kiss, his hands lingering at her waist as if he didn’t want to let go. She could feel the pride radiating from him, a joy she knew he’d worked so hard for, and it made her heart swell with love.

“Alright, lovebirds!” one of his teammates called out, laughing as he tossed a towel in their direction. “Save some of that energy for the party!”

Adam rolled his eyes, chuckling as he turned back to her. “Ready to celebrate?”

She nodded, a smile spreading across her face. “With you? Always.”

Later that night, the team threw a celebration in honor of Adam’s milestone. The restaurant was filled with laughter and music, everyone sharing stories and toasting to his success. She stayed close by his side, watching him light up as his friends and teammates congratulated him. There was a certain ease to him tonight, a glow that only came from the fulfillment of a dream realized.

At one point, his coach raised a glass, calling for everyone’s attention. “Here’s to Adam,” he began, his voice filled with pride. “A hundred goals is no small feat, but what makes this guy truly remarkable is his heart and dedication. He’s a role model on and off the ice, and we’re proud to call him one of our own. To Adam!”

The crowd erupted in cheers, and Adam looked over at her, his face a mix of pride and gratitude. She raised her glass to him, giving him a warm smile as she mouthed, “To you.”

After a while, they slipped outside, finding a quiet spot away from the crowd. The night was cool, a gentle breeze rustling the trees as they stood beneath the stars. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

“I still can’t believe it,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe. “A hundred goals. Feels like a dream.”

She leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. “It’s no dream. You worked hard for this, Adam. You deserve every bit of it.”

He looked down at her, his eyes filled with a quiet intensity. “I wouldn’t be here without you, Y/N. You’ve been my rock through everything—the highs, the lows, the injuries… I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, her heart swelling with love. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” she whispered, smiling through the emotion.

They shared a long, tender kiss under the stars, a private celebration of everything they had accomplished together. In that moment, she knew that, no matter where life took them, they would always have each other.

After the party, they returned home, both of them still riding the high of the evening. As soon as they stepped inside, he pulled her into his arms, his hands resting at her waist as he looked down at her.

“Dance with me,” he murmured, his voice soft.

She laughed, her cheeks flushing. “Adam, there’s no music.”

He shrugged, a playful grin on his face. “We don’t need music.”

He led her in a slow dance around the living room, their movements unhurried and gentle. She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as they swayed together. It was a quiet, intimate moment, a perfect end to a night they would remember forever.

As they danced, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, his voice filled with sincerity. “Thank you for believing in me, for standing by me through everything.”

She looked up at him, her heart overflowing with love. “Always, Adam. I’m with you every step of the way.”

They continued to dance, the world around them fading away, until they finally settled onto the couch, wrapped in each other’s arms. They spent the night talking about their dreams, sharing their hopes for the future, the love between them stronger than ever.

The following morning, they sat together on the balcony, sharing a quiet breakfast as the sun rose over the city. She looked over at him, feeling a sense of contentment she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“So, what’s next for us?” she asked softly, reaching for his hand.

He looked thoughtful, a small smile playing on his lips. “Well, I know I don’t want to do any of it without you. Whatever the future holds, you’re my number one.”

She smiled, feeling her heart skip a beat. “Do you ever think about…you know, settling down? Maybe a place of our own? A family?”

He took a deep breath, his eyes shining with hope. “All the time. I want all of that with you, Y/N. A home, a family—everything.”

They shared a long, lingering kiss, both of them feeling the weight of their shared dreams. The future felt open, a promise of everything they had worked for, and she knew that, whatever came next, they would face it together.

That evening, as the sun set, they decided to celebrate privately, sharing a bottle of wine on their balcony as the city lights began to twinkle. Adam poured them each a glass, raising his in a toast.

“To us,” he said, his eyes filled with love. “To everything we’ve built, everything we’ve overcome, and everything we’re going to create together.”

She smiled, clinking her glass with his. “To us.”

They sipped their wine, wrapped in each other’s arms, feeling a sense of peace and fulfillment that only came from being truly loved. In that quiet moment, they both knew that, no matter where life took them, they had found something lasting and real—a love that would carry them through every victory, every setback, and every dream they held for the future.

As they looked out over the city, she rested her head on his shoulder, her heart full of love and gratitude. They were each other’s home, each other’s hope, and she knew that, no matter what, they would always find their way back to each other.

And as the stars began to appear in the night sky, they shared one last kiss, a quiet promise of everything they would share in the years to come.

#adam fantilli #adam fanitlli x reader #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #my writing #columbus blue jackets #hockey #nhl

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agirlwithdemonblood · 6 months ago

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Through The Shadows: Chapter 1 - Unexpected Backup

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader

Series Summary: A hunter's Journey through despair and recovery is guided by Dean Winchester's unwavering love, leading her to reclaim her strength, voice and hope for their shared future.

Chapter Summary: Dean and Y/N never got along, but after a close call he starts to give her the benefit of the doubt.

Series Masterlist here!! & Main masterlist here!

Dean Winchester slammed the trunk of the Impala shut, muttering under his breath. The hunt was turning out to be more complicated than he and Sam anticipated. The ghost was aggressive, elusive and there had been more injuries than clues. They needed backup. Unfortunately, the backup Sam had in mind wasn't exactly Dean's favourite.

"Dean we need her." Sam stated, his voice firm as he leaned against the car. "She's experienced with these kind of cases. Her research skills are unmatched and you know this."

Dean grimiced, looking off into the distance. "Sam you know she and I don't exactly see eye to eye, I don't get why you're so insistent on this."

"Maybe because she's the best at what she does?" Sam rasied an eyebrow, "And she's my friend. She can help us. And you might try not to be so.... Dean."

Dean stared back at Sam offended before his eyes rolled and he grumbled underneath his breath. "Fine. Call her. But don't expect me to play nice."

"I never do." Sam sighed as he pulled out his phone.

Y/N arrived at the old warehouse, parking her car beside the Impala. Her heart pounded with anxiety, her fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel. She had known Sam for years; they were close, sharing countless laughs and late-night research sessions over the phone.

But Dean... Dean was different. His sharp eyes and gruff demeanor always made her feel on edge. She often caught him glaring, and his short responses only heightened her anxiety. She couldn't help but constantly feel like a disappointment in his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped out and walked towards the brothers. Sam greeted her with a wide grin and a hug. "Thanks for coming Y/N. We really appreciate it."

"Of course." She said softly, her eyes darting to Dean. He gave her a curt nod, his expression unreadable.

"We've got a restless spirit." Dean explained, his tone short and blunt. "Likes to stab first, ask questions never. Thought you might have some insights on handling this."

Y/N nodded, trying to focus on the case rather than Dean's intimidating presence. "Let's start with the records. There might be something in the history of this place that we missed."

The three of them spent the next few hours combing through old documents and piecing together the ghost's backstory. Y/N found herself slipping into her comfort zone, sharing her findings with Sam, who encouraged her with his usual supportive demeanour. Dean however, remained distant, his eyes flickering to her occasionally, as if trying to read her.

As night fell, the team prepared for the confrontation. The ghost had appeared several times at the warehouse, and they planned to force it into the open. Tension hung in the air as they spread out, each armed with weapons and salt.

Suddenly, the ghost appeared, a menacing figure with a twisted blade. Dean charged forward, aiming to banish it, but the ghost was faster. It lunged towards him, knife shining in the moonlight.

"Dean, look out!" Y/N screamed, running towards him as fast as she could. She pushed him down to the ground just in time, but the ghost's blade sliced across her arm leaving a nasty gash.

Sam fired a round of salt at the ghost, repelling it temporarily. Dean quickly scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide with shock and concern. "Y/N, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." she panted as she clutched her bleeding arm. "Just get rid of that thing!"

With a new found determination, the brothers managed to corner the ghost and kill it for good. The air was filled with the smell of burning ectoplasm, and silence settled over the warehouse.

Dean turned to Y/N, his gaze softening as he was the blood seeping through her sleeve. "You saved me." He said quietly, his usual gruffness replaced by a rare vulnerability.

Y/N shrugged, wincing slightly. "Just doing my job, Dean. Somebody has to keep you guys out of trouble."

Sam grinned as he clapped Dean on the shoulder, "She's got a point!"

As they cleaned up and prepared to leave, Dean approached Y/N, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "Listen, you should stay with us at the bunker. At least until your healed."

Y/N hesitated, glancing between Dean and Sam. "I... I don't want to be a burden."

"You aren't." Sam assured her. "We'd we want you there, right Dean?"

Dean nodded, his gaze fixed on her. "Yeah, we'd like you to stay."

She took a deep breath, finally nodding in agreement. "Okay, but I have one rule, Dean."

"What's that?" He asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Don't fall in love with me." She said half joking, half serious.

Dean rolled his eyes and scoffed, "You wish."

Sam laughed and even Y/N managed a small smile despite the pain. As they headed back to the cars, she couldn't shake the feeling that things were about to get a lot more complicated.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Chapter 2 coming soon stay tuned!

Like, comment, and reblog, feedback is my fuel 💕

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean x reader #supernatural one shot #dean #deanwinchester #deanxreader #spn

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allthemeniveloved · 25 days ago

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It Will Come Back - Part 7

Summary: You anxiously awaits the return of the men from the Saint Denis bank job, only for devastating news to shatter the fragile hope they had been clinging to.

wc: 4.1k

ao3 link

tags: high honor John Marston x fem!reader, angst, fluff, hurt comfort, smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie, riding, dirty talk, praising, daddy kink, mentions of death

The swamp air was heavy, clinging to your skin as you paced near the campfire, the light casting flickering shadows across the crumbling walls of Shady Belle. The camp was quieter than usual, the faint hum of crickets and frogs filling the void left by the gang’s usual bickering and bustle. You had barely slept the night before, your fight with John replaying over and over in your mind. The words you’d exchanged felt sharp and raw, and the fear behind them gnawed at you.

You turned at the sound of approaching hoofbeats, your heart leaping despite yourself. Dahlia, who had been grazing nearby, raised her head and let out a soft whinny as John’s figure came into view, his horse moving steadily through the foggy night. He dismounted with practiced ease, his boots hitting the ground with a soft thud, but there was hesitation in his movements, a heaviness in the way he approached.

His eyes found yours almost immediately, and though his jaw was set, his gaze softened as he saw the worry etched across your face. “Darlin’,” he began, his voice low and careful as he stopped a few feet away. “Can we talk?”

You folded your arms, unsure whether to be relieved or angry. “I’ve been waiting for you all day, John,” you said, your tone carrying more hurt than frustration. “Where the hell have you been?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he took another step closer. “Running errands for Dutch, then just out clearin’ my head,” he admitted. “I shouldn’t have said what I did last night.”

You blinked at him, his words catching you off guard. “You mean calling me ungrateful?”

John winced, his head dipping slightly. “Yeah. That. Look, I didn’t mean it, alright? I was just… frustrated.” He paused, his hands moving to his hips as his voice softened. “You were right, y’know? About Dutch. About all of this. I just didn’t wanna hear it.”

Your arms slowly fell to your sides, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly as your voice fell to a whisper. “John, I’m not trying to turn you against Dutch,” you said quietly, stepping closer to him. “I just… I’m scared. I’m scared of what he’s turning this gang into, and I’m scared of what it’s doing to you.”

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the guarded expression he so often wore crumbled. “I know,” he murmured, his voice raw. “And I hate that I’ve been makin’ it worse for you. I don’t want you thinkin’ I don’t care, ‘cause I do. More than I know how to say sometimes.”

Your chest tightened, his words hitting you harder than you expected. Without thinking, you reached for his hand, your fingers curling around his. “Then don’t push me away,” you said, your voice almost a whisper. “We’ve gotta stick together, John. You and me.”

He gave a small, lopsided smile, squeezing your hand in return. “We will,” he said, his tone firm now. “I ain’t lettin’ anything come between us again. I promise.”

The weight of the past day seemed to lift slightly as he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your cheek was grounding, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to believe that things might be okay—at least for now.

"Come, take a walk with me love." John ushered you with his gentle hand on your lower back as you begin walking behind the house. The soft murmur of camp faded as you followed John around to the back of Shady Belle, the crumbling mansion walls casting long shadows over the overgrown grass. The air back here was quieter, the swamp sounds more distant, and the two of you found a small, secluded patch where the moss-covered ground felt softer beneath your boots. He stopped and turned to you, his expression unguarded for the first time in what felt like days, his eyes catching the faint glow of the moonlight.

“Darlin’,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with emotion as he reached for your hand. “I hate fightin’ with you. Feels like the one thing I can’t stand to lose is us.”

Your chest tightened at his words, and you stepped closer, your fingers lacing with his. “I hate it too,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “But I don’t want to lose you, John. Not to Dutch, not to this life."

He cupped your face gently, his calloused thumbs brushing over your cheeks as his gaze softened. “You won’t,” he said firmly, leaning his forehead against yours. “I swear to you, I’ll always find my way back to you.”

The words hung in the stillness between you, and then his lips found yours, slow and tender at first, but growing deeper as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His warmth chased away the lingering tension, leaving only the soft hum of the swamp and the quiet promise in his embrace. The weight of the world seemed to lift, and all that mattered was the feel of his heart beating steadily against yours.

You reached for his shirt and fisted the cotton fabric, pulling him closer.

John's hands smoothed up and down your back.

“Sweetheart,” he mumbled into the embrace.

You broke away slightly.

“Don’t talk, just touch me. Please.”

John’s voice was low, almost hesitant, as he glanced around the quiet, shadowed corner of Shady Belle and asked, “Here?” You nodded, your voice soft but certain as you looked up at him, the tension in the air electric. “Yes, here.”

“Fuck,” the word tore from John's throat in groan so guttural it sent a shiver up your spine. John grabbed your hand with a quick, mischievous grin and pulled you behind the dilapidated shack at the edge of Shady Belle, the shadows offering a private refuge from the rest of the camp. “C’mon, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as he backed you gently against the wall, his eyes filled with that familiar spark you couldn’t resist. Dropping down to his knee without a second thought and lifting your knee length skirt, he doesn’t even bother pulling your undergarments off all the way. His fingers part your folds and he dives in, tongue slipping through your slit before moving up and circling your clit. You whine along with his ministrations, fingers falling to tangle in his long raven hair and tugging.

You can only just hold in the noises building in your throat as he moves like a man starved, pressing his mouth into you as his tongue probes and swirls and practically drinks you down. His lips latch around your clit, sucking sharply on the aching nerve and tearing a whimper from your chest.

It only took mere seconds for John to push you to a point where you couldn’t stay still, your body trying to escape the pleasureful torture while your heart wanted more. He was strong so he had no problem pinning you to the wall while his mouth continued to worship your cunt, tongue lapping at your clit and then your entrance. The sounds of your wet folds being worshiped by him were filthy.

You cum against his mouth with a broken gasp, your hand tightening in his hair to the brink of pain and he delights in it, his groan vibrating against your pussy only intensifying the high your body crashes through. His blunt nails leave crescent moons in the back of your thigh, digging into your flesh just under the swell of your ass as he keeps you against his mouth.

“G-god daddy, calm down –” you whimper, legs twitching and knees weak with the threat of giving out completely. Only then did he let you go.

Raising up and dropping his gun belt, John found his place on a nearby creaking wooden chair and leaned back, the faint smirk on his lips growing as he patted his knee and tilted his head toward you. “C’mere, darlin’,” he drawled softly, his voice low and inviting, as his eyes locked on yours with an undeniable warmth. You didn't hesitate before shedding your undergarments entirely and stepping closer, the lustful pull of his gaze leaving you no room to resist. As you settled onto his lap, his hands finding your waist, he holds you close and firm as he murmured, “That’s more like it."

Your eyes caught sight of John’s hat, discarded nearby his feet, and with a playful grin, you bent down to scoop it up and place it on your head. When you turned back to face him, he froze, his eyes softening as a slow, adoring smile spread across his face. “Well, look at you,” he drawled, his voice warm and low, “never thought my hat could look that damn good.” You feel his cock twitch underneath your core at the sight. “Guess it’s mine now, Marston."

Your eyes adjust to the low light, taking in the full sight before you. John's hand unbuttoned his pants and had pulled himself out, stroking his cock, thumb swiping over the tip after every few pumps.

“Daddy- your cock, please,” you sputter out all too fast, groaning as you meet his lustful gaze.

“That eager huh?” he jabs and your response dies in your throat as he slides into you; pushing your hips down so he bottoms out. Moans leave from both of your mouths’ and John presses his forehead to yours. He moves to latch his lips to your collarbone as you adjust to him, marking you as his from your neck to low on your decolletage. Slowly, you lift yourself halfway up over his cock before dropping back down. His hands aide you as you set a steady pace for yourself, enjoying the stretch of him. He can’t keep his own hips still, meeting you with sharp thrusts but not enough to knock you off your rhythm.

“More.” It’s a demand, hot need laced in his tone. It hurts in the best of ways, the solid slam of his cock hitting deep within you with every ram of his hips. You can feel the untamed rage building in his movements, his jaw tense and strained as he moves.

"You're so fucking beautiful like this, angel. All mine."

“Ain’t nobody gonna make you feel like this again, you hear me?” The fierce, almost possessive edge in his tone sent a shiver down your spine, leaving you momentarily speechless as you tried to process the intensity of his words. "Only me." he finishes.

You blinked, his fierce words catching you off guard, but instead of pulling away, you moaned louder, your arms resting around his neck. “I know, John,” you said softly, your voice tinged with warmth and lust as you met his intense gaze. “And for the record, I don’t want anyone else near me either.”

“Good, cause I ain’t about to share what’s mine.” he growls against your throat. His voice and the scratch of his stubble makes you want to whine but you bite back the noise. He bucks his hips up into you faster and you throw your head back, muffled cries building in your chest.

It’s intimate, being so close to him, despite the unforgiving way his fingers dig into your waist. Your mouths meet in a hot mess of tongue and teeth while you continuously drop your hips, clit catching and rubbing along the neat patch of curls covering his pubic bone, rutting harder against him for more friction.

“That’s it, angel. You're doing so good for me.” the soft praise makes your toes curl.

"I'm so close," the pleasure inside of you nearly bursting at the seams. His hand comes around your throat and yanks you to the side before his teeth are sinking into your neck, not a single break in his hard, pounding rhythm. That alone sends you over the edge as the coil in your belly snaps and your body convulses in John's arms as he followed you over the edge. He growled out a moan and pulled you down onto his lap, holding you in place as he spilled into you, your cunt milking him down to the very last drop.

“Fuck me,” John groaned, keeping his head buried in the crook of your neck. Your panting breaths mixed together in the humid air surrounding you both as you attempted to catch your breath, your head leaning forward once more to rest on his shoulder as your body went limp.

John reached up with a slow, teasing grin, his fingers brushing against yours as he gently lifted the hat from your head. “I think this belongs to me, darlin’,” he drawled, his voice soft yet filled with playful affection as he set it back on his own. “Though, I’ll admit, it’s hard to wear it knowing how damn good you looked in it.”

You laughed softly at his words, your cheeks warming as his gaze lingered, full of that familiar, unspoken affection that always left you breathless. His hand didn’t leave the brim of his hat, instead tilting it slightly as he leaned closer, his eyes flicking to your lips before meeting yours again.

“Y’know,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “I might need to find a reason to lend it to you again.”

You smirked, your heart racing as you reached out, your fingers lightly tugging at his shirt. “Who says you need a reason?” you whispered back, your voice barely audible above the hum of the swamp.

That was all it took. John closed the distance between you once more, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, filled with a tenderness that made the world around you blur. His hand came to rest against your jaw, tilting your face up toward him as he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t stand to let you go.

When the kiss broke, you stayed close, your foreheads pressed together as you both caught your breath. His voice was soft, a playful edge still clinging to it as he whispered, “You really are trouble, darlin’. But you’re my kinda trouble.”

The soft glow of morning filtered through the crumbling windows of Shady Belle, casting streaks of golden light over the worn wood floors. The swamp outside was already alive with the sound of frogs and insects, but inside the mansion, camp was still stirring awake. You sat on the porch with a steaming tin cup of coffee in your hands, feeling the cool morning air brush against your skin. The events of the previous night still clung to your thoughts, but the tension between you and John had eased, replaced by a cautious sense of calm and warmth.

John appeared from the house, his steps deliberate but quieter than usual. He rubbed the back of his neck as he approached, his expression unreadable, but there was something in the way he avoided your gaze that made your stomach twist. He sat down beside you, close enough for your shoulders to brush with his own coffee mug in his hand. For a moment, he just sipped in silence, the distant chatter of the gang filling the gaps between you.

Finally, you turned to him, concern flickering in your chest. “John, what’s on your mind?” you asked softly, your voice breaking through the stillness.

He let out a long sigh, setting his coffee down and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Dutch’s got a plan,” he said finally, his voice low and careful. “We’re hittin’ the Saint Denis bank.”

The words hit you like a punch to the chest. You blinked at him, your pulse quickening as the gravity of what he said sank in. “The Saint Denis bank?” you repeated, your voice rising slightly in disbelief. “John, that’s… that’s insane. The Pinkertons are already breathing down our necks, and now Dutch wants to poke the bear?”

“I know,” John said quickly, turning to face you. “I know it’s risky. Hell, I know it’s dangerous. But Dutch… he thinks this is it. The big one. Enough money to get us all out for good.”

You shook your head, your heart racing. “And you believe him?” you asked, your voice cracking with the weight of your fear. “John, you’ve seen what his ‘big plans’ have done to this gang. To us. Please, don’t do this." You grabbed his arm, your voice trembling with desperation as you pleaded, “John, something about this bank job doesn’t feel right—please, don’t go.” Your eyes searched his, tears threatening to spill as you whispered,

John’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists as he leaned closer. “I don’t believe him,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a murmur. “But this ain’t about Dutch. This is… this is somethin’ I’ve gotta do. A parting gift, y’know? For the man who raised me, for everything he’s done for me—even if it’s gone sideways now.”

You stared at him, tears stinging your eyes as you struggled to find the words. “John,” you whispered, reaching out to grip his hand. “We can leave now. Forget the bank, forget Dutch. We can go, and get out before it’s too late.”

His hand squeezed yours, but his gaze was steady, resolute. “Darlin’,” he said softly, brushing his thumb over your knuckles, “I made a promise to Dutch once, and this is me keepin’ it. But after this, I’m done. I swear to you, this is the last time. Tomorrow, we’ll pack up and leave. You, me, - we’ll start over, far away from all this.”

You searched his face for a sign of doubt, of hesitation, but all you saw was his stubborn determination. The knot in your stomach grew tighter as you nodded reluctantly, your voice barely audible. “Tomorrow,” you echoed, the word hollow in your mouth.

John leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I promise,” he said again, his voice tender but firm. “Just one more job, and we’re free.”

But as he pulled back and gave you a faint smile, the sinking feeling in your chest only deepened. You watched him gather his things and step away, your heart heavy with the unshakable fear that tomorrow might never come.

Later, the camp was bustling with activity as the gang readied themselves to head into Saint Denis, the tension in the air as thick as the swamp mist that clung to the ground. You stood off to the side, watching as horses were saddled and weapons were checked, your stomach churning with dread. John was among them, his face set with a determination you knew was meant to mask his own unease. His figure, so familiar and steady, looked almost distant now, and every instinct in your body screamed for you to stop him.

When he finally approached you, his saddlebags slung over his shoulder, you stepped forward, your voice cracking as you called out to him. “John, wait—please.”

He paused, his shoulders tensing before he turned to face you. The expression on his face was guarded, but the flicker of regret in his eyes was unmistakable. “Darlin’, we’ve been over this,” he said softly, his voice low to keep your conversation from carrying to the others. “I have to do this. It’s the last thing, I swear.” You grabbed his arm, gripping it tightly as your heart raced.

"I can’t… I can’t lose you.”

For a moment, he looked torn, his jaw tightening as he glanced back at the others mounting their horses. Then he reached up, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he leaned in, his forehead brushing against yours. “I’m comin’ back to you,” he murmured, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling between you. “This is just somethin’ I gotta do. For Dutch, for the gang. But tomorrow? Tomorrow it’s just us. I promise.”

The warmth of his touch and the certainty in his voice only made the sinking feeling in your chest grow heavier. You nodded reluctantly, tears threatening to spill as you whispered, “Tomorrow. You better keep that promise, John.”

He gave you a small, crooked smile, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek before he stepped back, his hand falling away as he turned toward his horse. “I always do,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a flicker of confidence you weren’t sure he fully believed.

You watched him mount up, your heart pounding as he joined the others and rode off, his figure disappearing into the foggy horizon. The sounds of their departure echoed faintly in the still air, and as you stood there, the gnawing unease in your stomach twisted into something sharper—something you couldn’t ignore. You clenched your fists, silently vowing to be ready for whatever came next, whether that meant waiting for him or finding a way to save him from the path he’d chosen.

The sun dipped lower into the horizon, casting long shadows over Shady Belle as you wandered anxiously around camp, unable to settle. Every sound from the swamp—every rustling branch, every distant birdcall—made your heart leap, hoping it was the sound of hooves returning. But as the hours dragged on, the unease in your chest grew heavier, settling like a stone. The gang was quiet, their usual chatter replaced by tense glances and murmured concerns. You paced near the edge of camp, your hands twisting nervously, unable to stop the cascade of worst-case scenarios playing out in your mind. Where were they? Why hadn’t they returned? The sinking feeling that had plagued you before John left now felt like an unbearable weight.

As darkness finally fell, the soft crunch of footsteps broke the oppressive silence, and you turned to see Abigail stumbling into camp. Her face was pale, her cheeks streaked with tears, and her hands trembled as she clutched Jack to her chest. The sight of her hit you like a punch, and your stomach turned as you ran to her. “Abigail,” you said, your voice shaking, “what happened? Where’s John? Where’s the rest of them?” She shook her head, her voice cracking as she spoke, her words spilling out in broken sobs. “Hosea—” she started, her voice faltering. “They killed him. Right there in front of Dutch.” Her knees buckled slightly, and you steadied her, your heart racing as she continued. “Lenny didn’t make it out either. And John—” She stopped, meeting your wide, fearful eyes. “John got arrested. They took him. I don’t know where… I don’t know if he’s okay.” Her words struck like lightning, leaving you breathless as the enormity of what she’d said settled in. The men weren’t coming back tonight—and John, your John, was gone.

The world around you seemed to tilt and blur as Abigail’s words echoed in your mind: Hosea dead. Lenny gone. John arrested. Your knees buckled, and you stumbled back, your hand gripping the edge of a barrel to steady yourself as your breath came in sharp, shallow gasps. The camp noises around you faded into a distant hum, replaced by the relentless pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. Your chest tightened painfully, the weight of grief and fear pressing down like a crushing force, making it impossible to catch your breath.

“No,” you whispered, your voice trembling as tears welled up, blurring your vision. “No, no, no—this can’t be happening.” The words felt hollow, desperate, like saying them might somehow undo the nightmare. Your hands trembled uncontrollably as you pressed them against your face, the tears spilling freely now. Images of Hosea’s calm, fatherly demeanor and Lenny’s infectious laughter flashed through your mind, now cruelly replaced by the knowledge that they were gone forever. But it was the thought of John—imprisoned, alone, and out of reach—that broke you. You gasped for air, your shoulders shaking violently as the panic consumed you, and all you could feel was the unbearable weight of losing him, of not knowing if he was alive or if you’d ever see him again. You barely registered the arms that wrapped around you, someone murmuring soft reassurances, as your world crumbled under the weight of your worst fears.

They're going to hang him, was the last thought that rushed through your mind.

꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰

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lunarubra · 1 month ago

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Hi :) This is the first chapter of the second part! I’ll be publishing more regularly this time since everything is already written.

Pairing: Cillian x OC (Jiyan)

Summary: In this AU set during the summer of 2010, Cillian has just wrapped up the final Inception premieres. Now, he and Jiyan are traveling through Italy, seeking some peaceful downtime together.

Warning: Fluff and Smut.

Words: 2985

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Chapter 1 - Venetiis, mea Venetiis

Waking up beside Jiyan had quickly become one of Cillian's favourite moments in recent months, mainly because it was a rare treat. While he loved sleeping in and savouring the peace of lying in bed, Jiyan’s internal clock seemed to be synced with the sun. She would always wake up without an alarm at what, in his opinion, were ungodly early hours. So when he would wake up, she would already have been awake for a couple of hours, being around the house and or heading out for a morning walk enjoying the fresh early hours.

So a smile naturally spread across his face, when he woke up and felt the comforting warmth of her still nestled against him. He glanced lovingly at the woman still sound asleep in his arms, enjoying the rare chance to share this quiet moment with her.

They were staying at her grandmother’s house in Venice, which felt like a little escape into magic. Her grandmother, almost 80 but still fiercely independent, had gone to visit a friend in the mountains for nearly a month. Jiyan had asked if they could house-sit, and her grandmother had happily agreed. The apartment spanned two floors—a rarity in Venice—and was tucked along one of the smaller canals in the older part of the city. It was the perfect, peaceful way to experience the beauty ofVenice, and Cillian found it all the more enchanting with Jiyan showing him around.

They fell into a gentle rhythm together, taking things slow and easy. In the mornings, Cillian would make coffee, and Jiyan showed him how to use a Moka pot to make it the Italian way, though she still preferred her tea. Wandering through Venice with her, especially steering clear of the busy tourist spots, brought him a deep sense of calm. He loved just walking, hearing nothing but the gentle splash of waves against the canals, breathing in the salty air, and catching bits of the locals’ quiet conversations.

Exploring the city with a local opened up a whole new side of Venice. There were no cars, only boats sliding by in the canals. Whole shops of fruits and vegetables floated along the waterways, and even the mail came by boat. The absence of city noise and smog felt like a relief, making it easy to let go of the usual bustle of city life. He laughed at how easily he got lost without Jiyan to guide him—the narrow streets and winding alleys were beautiful, a maze he’d never figure out alone. Venice was vibrant and peaceful all at once, and it felt like a little world all to themselves.

They had arrived in Venice after the Inception premiere in Paris, choosing to take the train. “How do you expect to drive through canals, Cill?” Jiyan had teased him. Since then, their days had been a blur of relaxation, art exhibitions, and long evening walks. For such a small city, Venice was rich in artistic culture, and they explored live music events and galleries whenever they could.

Their favourite activity was exploring the city’s second-hand markets, where it felt like time had stopped. These markets held books, vinyl records, and treasures from decades—sometimes even centuries—past. Jiyan loved telling him how, for centuries, Venice had been one of the world’s most important trade hubs, and that if something could be found anywhere, a copy was almost certainly in Venice too. Cillian treasured this time with her, where it was just about them, getting lost in the moment—whether they were discussing a novel or debating the significance of a book they’d found.

They also often went to open-air cinemas around the city, a tradition Cillian found as magical as it was unbelievable. In Venice, theatres and cinemas weren’t just on land but also on the water. Open-air theatres would have audiences seated in boats, floating along in small gondolas or flatboats as they watched the performance. The open-air cinema worked the same way. They would take Jiyan’s family boat, pack snacks and drinks, and head to where the movie was projected, watching it from their boat. It felt like a Venetian version of an American drive-in, but far more enchanting, with the shimmering water beneath them and the timeless beauty of Venice all around.

One night, as they settled into the boat, the lanterns strung along the canals cast a soft glow on the water, making everything feel dreamlike. Cillian leaned back, gazing at Jiyan as she carefully poured wine into two glasses, her face illuminated in the soft light.

“What are we watching tonight?” he asked, but in truth, it didn’t matter. He was just as captivated by the moment as he would be by any film.

“A classic,” she said with a smile, handing him a glass. “One of those films that feels like a lullaby. But tonight, it’s more about being here, isn’t it?”

He nodded, taking a sip and feeling the warmth spread through him. “I could sit here and do nothing but look at the lights reflected on the water, and I’d still think it was perfect.” He reached for her hand, feeling the gentle sway of the boat beneath them, their little world floating in the heart of Venice.

As the movie began to flicker on the large screen ahead of them, they settled back, surrounded by other boats and quiet whispers. Occasionally, a ripple would pass through the water as a gondola drifted by, casting gentle waves that rocked their boat. Every so often, he’d glance at her, catching her in deep concentration or with a slight smile playing on her lips, absorbed in the story. He couldn’t help but feel a surge of gratitude—for her, for this moment, for the small rituals they’d made their own in this extraordinary city.

Halfway through the film, she leaned over and whispered, “You know, my grandfather used to do this with my grandmother. He’d take her out in this very boat to see these films.”

He felt a rush of tenderness, picturing them here, decades before, floating together under the stars just as he and Jiyan were now. This connection to her family—past and present—felt like an unspoken bond, linking him to their stories, traditions, and memories.

In just a few days, he’d meet Jiyan’s grandmother when she returned from her trip, and soon after, they’d spend their last days in Trieste, at her mother’s home. Her brother, Mikael, and her mother, Solin, had already come by a few times, though their visits were brief. They were eager to catch up with Jiyan after months apart—and, of course, to meet him.

Staying with her family was a mix of beauty, comfort, and a bit of strangeness for him. It was beautiful because he could feel how deeply they loved each other. He saw it in Solin’s proud eyes when she watched her children teasing one another, or when Jiyan spoke passionately about her research at the university. Jiyan and her mother shared an intellectual connection that left him in awe. Most of the time, when she talked to him about her work, he would sit there looking like a baffled fish, fully aware of how important her research was but not quite able to grasp half of it.

It was also comfortable because, even though they were mostly there for Jiyan, they were genuinely curious about him too. They didn’t know him as an actor, which he found refreshing. In fact, he was fairly certain it had been over 20 years since Solin had watched TV or seen a movie. They didn’t care much about his film projects, but they were fascinated by his work in theatre and his travels. Solin, a passionate reader, spent many afternoons with him, sipping tea and discussing their favourite novels, a pastime that led to endless teasing from Jiyan and Mika.

Still, it was a bit strange. He had never felt more out of his depth, more aware of his own ignorance and narrow perspective. It wasn’t just that Jiyan and Solin were both academics who worked at universities; it was the effortless way they—and Mika, too—would slip between multiple languages during conversation. They would start in English to include him, then switch to Italian or Kurdish without even noticing. It was so natural for them, but it made him feel oddly basic, limited to just English and Irish. He almost wanted to call his mum and apologise for all the times she’d tried to teach him French without success.

They weren’t intentionally excluding him, and they always apologise when they realised they’d switched languages, quickly translating whatever had been said. Still, if he were honest, he felt incredibly lucky to experience such a rich blend of languages and cultures firsthand.

His thoughts were interrupted when Jiyan stirred beside him, mumbling something in her sleep. Smiling, he turned slightly and began to leave gentle butterfly kisses along the side of her neck, slowly making his way to that spot that always made her squirm. Her hand moved instinctively toward him, and he couldn’t help but smile at the simple sweetness of the moment.

She still had on his shirt from the previous night, the buttons mismatched. They had returned home late after an exhilarating time at the concert, both drenched in sweat from their dancing and filled with the buzzing energy that only a live music session could provide. It didn't take them long to undress - his clothes falling off and her summer dress being discarded quickly - before he showed her just how deeply he loved her. She had teased him throughout the entire night, her carefree dancing in that dress driving him wild. Later, after they were both exhausted and satisfied, she slipped on his shirt and they cuddled up together, drifting off into sleep almost instantly.

Her skin seemed to tan almost immediately under the radiant Italian sun, while he had to protect himself from turning into a ripe tomato if he didn't want to be burned. She basked in the sunlight, allowing her already olive complexion to deepen and glow. It was as if the summer season itself made her radiate with beauty and intensified any allure she already possessed. He found it nearly impossible to leave her alone or not touching her for even a moment.

As he continued to kiss her neck, Jiyan began to stir more, her eyes fluttering open. She turned to face him, a sleepy smile spreading across her face. "Good morning," she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face. The sunlight streaming through the window highlighted the golden flecks in her eyes, making them shine like amber.

Jiyan stretched languidly, the shirt riding up to reveal a tantalising glimpse of her thigh. He couldn't resist running his hand along the smooth skin, marvelling at how soft it felt beneath his touch.

“S’fuckin’ sexy,” he murmurs, meeting her eyes again. “You in my clothes.” His hands span her waist, thumbs tracing lazy circles against the soft fabric, warming her skin beneath.

She giggled and playfully swatted his hand away. "What time is it?" she asked, propping herself up on one elbow.

“I don’t know, but there is enough time for this,” he said, stealing a kiss, distracting her completely.

The kiss was hard and deep and messy, waking her up and getting rid of the last traces of sleep. And god, he was so good at this. They were so good together. She thought she could probably spend hours just kissing him and be totally content.

Jiyan melted into him, her body instinctively pressing closer to his. The world outside their little bubble ceased to exist as they lost themselves in each other once again. His hand traced the curve of her waist, fingers slipping beneath the hem of the shirt of his that she was wearing. She shivered at his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.

The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more passionate. Jiyan's fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as if she couldn't get enough. He revelled in the taste of her, the softness of her lips, the warmth of her body against his. It was intoxicating, addictive.

He broke away from the kiss and hurriedly took off that last layer tha was still covering her, letting out a breath as she layed naked in front of him, nipples high up in the air.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, throat bobbing as he crawled down, bowing his head and kissing the inside of her thigh, licking a tortuously slow line up her centre with the flat of his tongue.

“Fuck, Cill!” Jiyan screeched, her hips involuntarily moved, bringing her pussy further against his hungry mouth.

Cillian sucked her clit into his mouth, humming against her and the vibration sent a jolt of pleasure up her spine. Another groan escaped her lips and her fingers tangled in his hair. Her vision started to blur while he worked her with his tongue, alternately swirling and flicking against her folds and nerves. She watched him beneath lowered lashes, the pupils of his eyes dark and trained on her face; then he smirked against her before going back to work.

He rolled his tongue around Jiyan’s clit, eliciting a long, drawn out moan from her. She was so wet, and he easily slid in one, two fingers inside her tight passage. He added a third, which made her whole body shake with another moan, and he pumped into her, feeling her warm, slippery walls contract around his digits.

He could not wait to feel once again her tightness around his dick, and he had to hold himself back from thrusting in her before she could orgasm. It didn’t take long for her to reach that peak, and she screamed as she convulsed around his fingers, her slick running down slowly into the mattress.

Licking the wetness left off his lips, he crawled up on top of her and rubbed his cock over pussy to gather more before brushing the underside of his dick over her clit as he did, his cock nudging at her slippery entrance.

“I’m going to…” he started, but was cut off by a voice from downstairs that made him freeze instantly, forgetting for a moment that he was about to have sex with his gorgeous girlfriend.

“Jiyan siè tu? Sito casa?” the new voice called from the floor below.

(“Jiyan is it you? Are you home?”)

“Cazzo! Fuck!” Jiyan swore, her face turning pale as she froze, still trying to catch her breath from the orgasm she’d just had.

“What? Who?” he asked frantically, propping himself up on one arm, while Jiyan pushed him aside and tossed him his shirt.

“It’s my grandma,” she whispered urgently.

“What?” he almost shouted. “How? Wasn’t she supposed to be here in three days?”

“Jiyan, benon?” her grandmother called again, footsteps now audible on the stairs.

(“Jiyan, is everything alright?”)

“Si, nonna, venemo sùvito! Cinque minuti!” Jiyan called out, trying to buy them some time.

("Yes, Grandma, we’re coming right away! Five minutes!")

“You have to get dressed,” she whispered, frantically searching the room for clothes. She turned around to see Cillian still completely naked, his shirt draped half over him, barely covering his still half-hard cock.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he muttered.

“Cill, come on!”

“Your grandma just interrupted us… mid-sex.”

“Cillian! Focus!” she hissed, trying to suppress her own panic.

“I can’t…” he replied petulantly, glancing down at himself. “What did you say to her?”

“I told her we were coming downstairs in five minutes,” she said, realising he still understood little Italian.

“What? No way. I can’t go down like this,” he said, sitting up and gesturing toward his lap. “Literally.”

“Very funny, Murphy,” she shot back, rolling her eyes. “Best joke ever. I’ll just tell her you’re in the shower.” She still hadn’t found anything to wear, so in desperation, she yanked his shirt back off him, leaving him fully exposed, and pulled on a pair of jogging shorts from the floor.

She paused for a moment, realising just how absurd the whole situation was. A slow smile crept across her face before she suddenly burst into laughter, sitting down on the bed beside him, hiding her face into his neck while Cillian that was also trying to catch his breath. He smiled and hold her closer, holding back a chuckle.

“My grandma interrupted us while we were having sex,” she said, looking back at him and laughing so hard that tears formed in her eyes.

“It’s not funny, Aji,” Cillian said, though a grin tugged at his lips despite himself. “Jesus, I can't believe that just happened.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, gently brushing his hair back. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just… a bit shell-shocked. Talk about terrible timing.” He took her hand and kissed it lightly. “I’m going to take that shower now—try to distract her,” he added, giving her a quick kiss before standing up and heading toward the ensuite bathroom.

“You know they’re never going to let this go, right? She’s probably already on the phone with half the family. We’ll be teased about this forever,” Jiyan called out as he closed the bathroom door.

“At least I won’t understand the teasing,” he shouted back, laughing as he stepped into the shower.

Jiyan shook her head with a sigh, slipping on her sandals before heading downstairs.

As she entered the kitchen, she found her grandmother sitting at the table, calmly stirring sugar into her coffee, a sly smile on her face like the cat that got the cream.

“Quindi, posso spetarme dei neodin présto, Aji?” her grandmother asked, barely suppressing a grin.

("So, can I expect great-grandchildren soon, Aji?")

Jiyan groaned inwardly. Nope, they definitely weren’t going to let this go anytime soon.

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Thank you so much for taking the time to read. Your feedback, in any form, makes me happy. See you at the next one :)

amazing dividers from cafekitsune

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five-and-dimes · 2 years ago

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Smile Like You Mean It

Hob wants nothing more than to make his boyfriend laugh. Dream very much does not want to scare away his boyfriend with his laugh. They work through it together.

Read on AO3

Hob Gadling did not have a single ‘life goal’. His life was simply too long for that. No, he merely had current goals; the objective that caught his attention the most at any given moment which he dedicated himself to with the single mindedness of a man who couldn’t die until he succeeded.

And his current goal?

Making Dream of the Endless laugh.

He had certainly come a long way in six hundred years. Or, maybe it was Dream who had come a long way. Since reuniting, his stranger, his friend, was more open with his expressions. Still stoic and poised, for certain, but more willing to grace Hob with small smiles and gentle eyes. The first few months had been a little rough. Dream was clearly trying his best at the whole friendship thing, finally telling Hob his name and agreeing to visit more often, but there were still some growing pains. Hob was reluctant to push for fear of chasing his friend away again, and Dream didn’t seem to know what was expected of him.

(Eventually, Dream had quietly confessed where exactly he had been during their last meeting, reassuring Hob that he had not stayed away intentionally and promising not to run away again. Hob, through his tears- because if Dream would not cry then Hob would damn well cry for him- had put that statement to the test almost immediately, pulling the Endless forward to kiss him softly.

(Dream kept his word. He didn’t run away.)

(He kissed back.)

Now, as they fell more easily into a comfortable rhythm of friendship and more, Hob found himself focusing his attention on coaxing any expression of joy from Dream’s impassive face. Every day he smiled a little easier, like rays of sunshine peeking through the clouds, and Hob couldn’t get enough.

Today, they are sitting in a quiet corner of the New Inn. Hob has learned that jokes and puns don’t get him far, but Dream always loves a good story, and so he is currently regaling Dream with the tale of the time he made the mistake of starting a new life as his own nephew instead of son.

“I just figured I’d mix it up a little,” he groaned, “If anything I thought it would be more suspicious to constantly be claiming to be my own son. How was I supposed to know Helen’s mother still had a picture of us?”

Dream is watching him with rapt attention, as if he will be quizzed on his words later. His drink is untouched as always, and he gives a quiet hum, which Hob has learned is Dream-speak for ‘please tell me more’.

“So Helen comes to me, with this faded picture she found in her attic of my ‘uncle’ who is the spitting image of me, wringing her hands and near tears, explaining to me that she thinks my mom might have had an affair,” Hob put his head in his hands as he remembers the incident, “Honestly, I should have just gone along with it, but I’m bloody awful at fake crying, so of course, what do I blurt out?” He looks up at Dream, putting on a faux surprised face as he reenacts himself, “‘Oh, did I not mention my dad and uncle were twins?’”

Finally, Dream’s blank expression cracks. His eyes crinkle just slightly, and he lets out a soft huff of breath through a smile, the closest to a laugh that Hob ever manages.

And Hob loves it, to be sure, but he can’t help but grin and quip nonchalantly, "One of these days I'm gonna get a proper laugh out of you, just you wait."

The change is immediate.

Dream's face falls so fast it gives Hob whiplash, and his entire body stiffens in his seat, hands clenched in fists on the table. He looks away, so Hob can't quite figure out what emotions are swimming there.

"I do not recommend that."

Hob furrowed his brows in confusion, "And why would that be?"

Across from him, Dream shifted uncomfortably, looking almost… guilty? Before the Endless finally responded, "I have been told my laugh is. Unattractive."

And that has Hob's eyebrows shooting into his hairline, "Wait, really?" Dream nods solemnly, and the grave look on his face has Hob bursting into surprised laughter, "Oh, oh now that's something! Now I really have to hear it!"

When his laughter dies down, he expects Dream to be pouting, perhaps huffing regally or glaring in fond annoyance, as he has taken to do when Hob teases him lightly.

Instead, he is met with a carefully blank stare. The kind that Hob has learned means that Dream is hurting and doesn't want to show it.

"Your efforts would be wasted. I have long broken myself of the habit."

And, well, that is certainly. A loaded sentence. Hob feels the smile slip from his face, as it starts to occur to him that he may have tripped into a landmine without realizing it.

"Laughing isn't a 'bad habit', mate," he responds slowly. He can’t help but tilt his head a little, looking at his friend through a new lens. Dream has always been so stoic, so reserved and guarded and reticent. It had never occurred to him that those traits may have been learned.

Dream is older than Hob- much, much older- and he is too afraid to ask how long Dream has been smothering his own joy.

"Even if you do have an ugly laugh or what have you,” he continued insistently, “that's no reason to just… never laugh again. I mean, come one, laughing is great! It’s, it’s unrestrained joy! Happiness! There’s no bad way to laugh.”

A pause stretches between them. And then, Dream shakes his head. Slowly. A single, deliberate movement from side to side, and he speaks as though reciting a fact of the universe. "Joy is. Unbecoming on me."

Hob has always worn his heart on his sleeve, and even though he somehow manages not to burst into tears at those words, he’s certain he looks as heartbroken as he feels, “Dream,” his voice is pleading, “That’s not the point. That- that’s not what joy is about!” There’s a tinge of desperation in his voice, egged on by the way he finds himself gesturing wildly in front of a being who might as well be a statue for how still he is, “It’s not about looking good, it’s about feeling good. If I had to choose between you being unfairly attractive and you being happy, I’m always going to pick your happiness.”

Part of him also wants to argue that he very much doesn’t believe that there is anything Dream could do that would make him unattractive, that Hob is compromised by his appearance 24/7 no matter what he does. But given how dense and stubborn his friend is, he worries it would be taken the wrong way. So for now, he just leans forward to lay a hand over Dream’s.

“We both know I’m more stubborn than you, so just you wait. I’m going to get a laugh out of you, and we’ll both have a right good time with it, and you’ll find that joy is in fact very becoming on you. And you know I wouldn’t lie.”

For a long moment, Dream just looks at him, blinking slowly like he’s just been handed a particularly vexing puzzle. Eventually, he responds steadily, “I am always happy with you. Even when I do not laugh.”

Huffing lightly, Hob smiles, “Well, I’m glad to hear that my friend. But you won’t dissuade me.”

“Hm. You cannot blame me for trying though.”

That startles a laugh from Hob, and he squeezes Dream’s hand fondly, “No, I suppose not.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hob figures, since he is dating the Prince of Stories, that movie nights are a pretty solid bet as far as dates go.

Flipping through the selection of movies on his laptop, he tries very, very hard not to think of the reason why Dream hasn’t experienced these particular stories, instead focusing on the excitement of getting to share them with the one he loves.

Lately, he’s been concentrating on comedies.

He had started with the older ones, suffering through adaptations of Shakespeare’s comedies so that Dream could have something familiar while adjusting to the new medium of film. Then he showed him some of the classics; Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, The Princess Bride, The Great Race, The Marx Brothers. He learned that Dream loved Clue and the idea of a story having multiple endings, but didn’t care for Monty Python’s absurdity.

And through them all, Hob got small smiles and abrupt exhales.

They laid together on the couch, Dream’s back against Hob’s front, Hob resting his arms around Dream’s chest. He barely watches the movies on the screen, so tuned into Dream, trying to ease any tension out of his frame, hoping for at least the gentle shakes of restrained laughter.

But there’s nothing.

When the credits roll, Hob stands, kissing Dream on the forehead before taking their empty wine glasses to the kitchen for a refill. Setting them on the counter, Hob allows himself a sigh of frustration. He hadn’t expected this endeavor to be quite so difficult. Tapping his fingers, he racked his brain for what else he could do to loosen up the stubborn being on his couch enough to shrug off some of his poise.

“Hob.”

Dream never made a sound when he moved, and Hob really should be used to it by now. Still, he jumped nearly a foot in the air at the sound of a voice barely a foot behind him. Whipping around, he clutched at his chest dramatically.

“God’s wounds, Dream, if I could die I think I might have!”

For a long moment, they simply stare at each other. Dream stands tall and regal, hands clasped in front of him, and blinks slowly. There is such gravity in his expression, in the way he carefully considers Hob, as if trying to disarm a bomb.

(Hob looks at him and wants to ask ‘What are you so afraid of? What’s got you so scared of me?’)

(Dream looks at him and wants to ask ‘Is this enough? Is this enough? Why can’t this be enough?’)

(Neither of them ask.)

Eventually, Dream’s eyes flutter closed, and he steps forward to press his face into the crook of Hob’s shoulder. On instinct, Hob circles him with his arms, swaying them both slightly as he buries his nose in wild black hair.

“Everything alright, Dove?”

He feels Dream nod against him, “Yes. I am happy. Here, with you.”

And he sounds happy. Something peaceful and relaxed in his tone that makes Hob’s face crack into a wide smile and squeeze him a little tighter, “Good. That’s what we’re going for, Love.”

Dream hums contentedly, nearly a purr, and Hob figures he must be doing something right.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In all the centuries since meeting Dream of the Endless, long before he knew his name, before the lust turned to love, Hob had been convinced that he would never so much as lay a hand on his stranger’s skin. He always seemed so far above him, so unreachable, it had felt like the most painful kind of pipe dream.

So now, six hundred some odd years later, being able to kiss Dream felt like a miracle.

This, too, had taken some adjusting between them. Hob was a tactile person, and he got the feeling Dream was too, but he wasn’t used to it. For the first few weeks, Dream couldn’t help but flinch away from skin contact, and Hob couldn’t help but feel rejected by it. But as time passed, Dream began to relax into the affection, and Hob learned not to take it personally, though it still made him sad to think of how long Dream had gone without kind contact.

Similarly, going farther had taken time. Dream had expressed a want to be with Hob intimately, but taking his clothes off was a struggle. They grew together in this, too. They took it slow, learned each other’s bodies under clothes until Dream was comfortable removing that barrier so long as the lights were dimmed, so long as he didn’t feel displayed.

Now they fell together with practiced ease. They both knew how to make the space comfortable, how to make the other gasp and pant. Hob knew how to ease away the endless tension Dream carried in every part of his body, and Dream knew how to make Hob feel seen and wanted in ways he never had before.

They had both shared a couple bottles of wine, though Hob was the only one seemingly affected by it, his kisses a little more clumsy and a rosy flush over his face. They stumbled into Hob’s bedroom, Dream pulling his body on top of his own, encouraging Hob to press his weight onto him the way he liked. Hob took a moment to kick the mess of sheets onto the floor, his movements hindered by the way Dream was shoving his shirt over his head. He laughed as his arms got tangled in the sleeves, nearly tipping over before Dream’s hands reached to steady him, finally freeing himself of the fabric. He saw Dream’s lips twitching before he zeroed in on Hob’s chest, running his fingers through his thick body hair and palming at his pecs. Hob had always thought he was decent looking, but Dream had a way of bearing down on him with hungry eyes that made him feel like the most attractive man in the universe.

But he doesn’t let himself get too distracted, tugging at Dream’s shirt questioningly and then pulling it off as soon as he’s given approval. The same way Dream is minorly obsessed with Hob’s hair and muscles, so is Hob enamored with the miles of smooth, hairless skin exposed to him now. Dream sighs, his body going lax beneath him and running his fingers lovingly through his hair as Hob kisses along his collar bones.

They are both still in their jeans, but there’s no rush. Leaning back, Hob is happy to take his time admiring his love, smiling at the way Dream’s eyes have drifted closed under his gentle touches. Hob skims his fingers down Dream's sides, brushing over prominent ribs and the vulnerable space of his waist, and he feels Dream twitch, a huff of breath escaping him and at that moment, a lightbulb goes off in his brain.

Suddenly, Hob feels himself grin mischievously, because why hadn't he thought of this before?

Curling his fingers, he drags them back up Dream's skin, not pressing, just fluttering up and down the soft, white skin. Below him, Dream begins to squirm, sucking in a breath, and Hob grins wider, begins to move his fingers just a little faster because he is brilliant and then-

-and then Dream's entire body goes rigid, and cold fingers shoot out to grip Hob's wrists.

"Stop."

Dream's voice cracks with desperation and Hob feels like the scum of the earth.

Before he has a chance to pull away, to give Dream space, Dream is scrambling back, sitting up to press his back against the headboard. All the soft relaxation Hob had coaxed from him is gone, his body wracked with tension, and even cast downward he can see the anxiety and shame warring in his eyes. He keeps his shaking hands around Hob's wrists to hold him at arm's length, as if bracing for Hob to ignore his wishes.

Yeah. Hob definitely feels like scum.

"Hey," he whispers, leaning back and keeping his hands lax and unthreatening, "I'm sorry, it's okay. I won't do that again," he promises. He tilts his head to try to catch Dream's gaze, "I'm sorry."

Dream doesn't respond, but he does loosen his grip. Tentatively, Hob shifts to curl his hands around Dream's softly in return, letting his thumbs stroke the inside of his wrists soothingly. He waits patiently, letting Dream breathe, occasionally whispering soft apologies and comfort while Dream gathers himself.

After several long minutes, Dream swallows thickly, "I do not understand."

Furrowing his brow, Hob asked, "What do you mean?"

There is another pause before Dream answers slowly, his voice thick with fear and sorrow, "You have already seen. All the ugly things inside of me. That you still allow me in your presence at all is a marvel. Why, then, do you seek to see me ugly on the outside? It would be…too much. To ask for you to still want me. If I am, if nothing else, no longer appealing in that way to you."

Hob feels like his heart has been drawn and quartered. His chest goes tight, and there are so many things he wants to say, so many reasons he wants to cry, and they're all fighting for first place in his mind. For too long he simply stares, eyes wide and watery, while Dream curls in on himself, his gaze still locked on his lap.

Finally, finally, Hob gently releases Dream's hands, opening his arms and just barely managing to choke out, "Come 'ere, Love. Come here."

Dream hesitates, his eyes at last glancing up to search Hob's face. Whatever he finds there must be enough though, because he releases a shuddering breath and lets himself fall forward into Hob's arms.

Hob gathers him in his lap, settling in the center of the bed and pressing a kiss against his sharp cheekbone. He grips him tight, and after one last moment of hesitation, Dream curls his arms around Hob's back to return the embrace.

For so long, Hob has felt small compared to Dream. Immortal though he may be, he was still just a human next to an Endless. A speck next to an existence he could barely wrap his head around. Each day, Hob felt it was a marvel for Dream to want him. Not once had he ever considered that Dream might feel less than. It had never even crossed his mind that Dream might think it even a possibility that Hob wouldn't want him in whatever way he was given. As if there was anything that would make Hob give up on him.

Especially something so inconsequential.

"I love you," Hob whispers against his temple, "You. It doesn't matter what you look like, or sound like. Ugly, beautiful, plain, it doesn't matter as long as it's you. I won't stop loving you- won't stop wanting you- just because you're not, I don't know, aesthetically perfect or whatever."

He squeezes the bony body a little tighter, "Although that said, I love you. And so you'll always be beautiful to me. Inside and out."

When Hob pulls back to look at him, there are tears slowly running down Dream's face, and he doesn't look like he believes him.

It breaks Hob's heart.

But they've got time.

Kissing the tears from his cheeks, he makes one last promise, "I'm going to prove it to you. However long it takes. The rest of my immortal life. I'll prove it to you."

Dream still doesn't respond. He simply closes his eyes and swallows back all the arguments bubbling in his chest. They don't have sex that night, but Hob pulls the covers around them and holds Dream until he stops shaking. Until he's warm and relaxed in his arms again.

Dream never responds. But he's still there in the morning, waking Hob with a gentle kiss, and that’s enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hob stops trying after that.

There’s a subtle relaxation to Dream now, as if he has exhaled after months of holding his breath, and it is a painful realization for Hob to acknowledge that his attempts had, in fact, been making things worse.

Nothing for it now but to learn from it, he supposes. So he doesn’t push. He savors every smile Dream graces him with, every soft touch and loving gaze. They start watching different genres of movies and shows, and sometimes Hob manages to convince Dream to go somewhere in the city with him. Dream shows his happiness is a thousand quiet ways, and Hob cherishes each of them.

On this day, Hob isn’t even expecting Dream at all. They had already seen each other several times that week, and Dream was a busy being, so Hob was anticipating a quiet night and maybe a dream-visit later in the evening. They were approaching the one-year anniversary of Dream returning to the New Inn, which Hob knew was a complicated time for Dream. It was, after all, also approaching the one-year anniversary of his escape from the monsters who imprisoned him.

Hob is, admittedly, a little lost on how to handle the occasion. Dream has been dealing with it the way he deals with everything, which is to say he hasn’t mentioned it and if pressed would make some excuse about arbitrary dates or something. So Hob falls back on one of his tried-and-true love languages.

Food.

Sure, Dream doesn’t eat much, if at all, but he knows he appreciates the gesture when Hob offers him treats. So Hob has dedicated the evening after returning from work to trying out a fancy recipe he found for a lavender cake with lemon curd and buttercream. If it works out well enough, he’ll make it for Dream on one of their more official date nights. Cooking has always been more of his forte, but it can’t be that hard to switch to baking, he figures. Besides, last Christmas he splurged on one of those expensive Kitchen Aid stand mixers, so he should be set.

At first, it does go smoothly enough. The lemon curd is thinner than he wanted, but it still needs to cool a little, so he’s not giving up on it yet. He’s beaten the eggs and sugar, and has just poured what he feels is a reasonable amount of flour into the bowl. It’s a little full, sure, but as he drops the paddle in he figures as long as he keeps the setting low he’ll be fine.

And that’s when Dream shows up.

And, to be clear, by ‘show up’, he means just fucking appear next to Hob in the kitchen out of absolutely nowhere.

“Hello Hob-”

Dream is interrupted by Hob’s high-pitched shriek, accompanied by the way his full body flail catches the switch on the mixer. The paddle, half buried in flour, goes from zero to ten, a mushroom cloud of flour engulfing the kitchen followed by waves of egg and sugar.

“SHIT! FUCK!” Hob sputters, waving his arms blindly as his vision is obscured by the explosion of batter, until his fingers finally find the switch and slam it off.

The entire kitchen is hazy with flour in the air, and Hob is sputtering, trying to spit out the mixture that got in his mouth during the explosion. He is spitting into his arm, shaking his hair out like a dog, and so it takes a moment for him to register another sound in the room.

It is, undeniably, a laugh, but only in the sense that there is a distinct “ha ha” to the sound. But there’s a quality to it, like if you scraped gravel across a chalkboard, deep and low pitched but still somehow grating, broken up by long notes that remind him of a braying bloodhound.

Snapping his head around, he only catches the last moment. There is a split second where he sees Dream, flour in his hair and bright streaks of egg and sugar on his black clothing, his eyes bright with glee, his mouth smiling wide enough to show his teeth, sees how his whole face seems softer and brighter and he hunches slightly under the force of his laughter.

Dream’s laughter.

Only for a second though. As soon as their eyes lock, Dream chokes on a breath. He actually takes a step back, away from Hob, as he slaps both hands over his mouth, fingers curling to clutch at his own jaw, and he doesn’t go red with embarrassment, but gray from mortification.

Deep in his mind, Hob knows he should be saying something comforting. Something to console the anxiety that is obviously crackling under Dream’s skin like an electric current. He should definitely be doing something soothing.

But the sound of laughter is still ringing in his ears, every splitting note of it echoing in his head, and, really, there is only one way to respond to that awful, ridiculous noise coming from Dream's mouth:

"Marry me."

Dream's hands are still covering his mouth, but Hob sees the way his eyes widen, and his shoulders jerk up to his ears, and he thinks he hears a muffled squeak of surprise, and what else can he do but-

"Marry me right now."

They spend a long moment staring at each other. Slowly, so slowly, Dream pulls his hands away from his mouth, just an inch or so, still ready to clamp down anything he deems unseemly, but enough to let out a soft, "Pardon?"

And, really, how could anyone be expected to stand in front of this Endless- this unfathomable, multifaceted being who is powerful and elegant and ridiculous and adorable and perfect- and not leap forward to embrace him?

Dream's hands are still in the way, and so as Hob wraps his arms around him, his lips land on his knuckles, pressing the hands back against Dream's mouth just as another surprised squeak escapes him and Hob is so in love. He doesn’t care that they are making a bigger mess, and Hob's kiss is no less enthusiastic for the bony barrier between their lips. It's still Dream's skin, and so it is still a gift.

Eventually, he pauses long enough for Dream to uncover his mouth, his hands hovering over Hob's chest, barely touching enough to leave light fingerprints in the batter coating his shirt. He blinks in confusion and Hob is smiling so wide his cheeks ache.

"You. Do not think it is…?"

Hob pulls him tight against his chest, peppering kisses all over his face, careless of the flour getting in his mouth as he rambles lovingly, "It's ridiculous. You sound like a choking donkey. You've never looked more beautiful. It's hideous. It's perfect. I want to hear that laugh every day for the rest of my life."

When he looks, Dream's eyes are shining with tears, but he's also smiling, his face full of wonder and fragile hope as he whispers, "That is. A long time, Hob Gadling."

He's still smiling, which makes their teeth click when Hob leans in to kiss him properly, "Longer, if I have any say in it,” with effort, he pulls back just enough to point out, “You haven’t answered my question by the way.”

Raising an eyebrow, a bit of shyness returned to Dream even as he replied petulantly, “You did not phrase it as a question.” Hob rolled his eyes, and Dream continued, “That was not. One of your jokes?”

“My love,” Hob takes one of Dream’s hands, laying the other over his own heart dramatically as he drops to one knee on his disastrous kitchen floor, “I have never been more serious.”

Dream burst out laughing.

Tugging on Hob’s hand, he pulled him to his feet and pressed their mouths together, “You ridiculous, absurd, wonderful man,” Dream declares when he can catch his breath, “Nothing would bring me more joy than to call you my husband.”

Eventually they have to stop kissing.

They are both laughing too hard against each other's mouths.

#FUCK YEAH ONE LESS WIP #the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling fic #my writing #this started as part of a different fic and then took on a life of it's own #I'm pretty happy with how it turned out though #it was meant to be pure fluff but I apparently NEED to make things hurt at least a little #cest la vie

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ladytauria · 1 year ago

Note

If you're okay with prompts right now can I ask for jason and tim putting on relationship weight together

yes you can! <3

this ended up fairly short but i hope you enjoy it, nonny~

also i apologize for any mistakes <3 i was halfway done when my cat decided to sit in my face, and like? who was i to say no. so i wrote the rest on mobile lmao

Tim has gotten softer around the middle.

The realization hits Jason while he’s still half-drowsy from sleep, curled around Tim in their bed. They’d flipped during the night, with Jason now in Tim’s place as the big spoon; feathery strands of hair tickling his chin, his arm wound around Tim’s waist. And under his hand, splayed over Tim’s stomach… there’s more give than there used to be.

He can’t help but feel it; smoothing his palm over the padding over Tim’s ribs, the soft curve of his stomach. Something swells in his chest, made up of too many feelings for him to name.

It’s not that he hadn’t noticed, exactly. Something he’d insisted on, when they moved in together, was that, as long as they were both in Gotham, they should share at least one meal a day, out of costume. It had taken some time to find a rhythm, but… they had.

He’d noticed the extra weight he picked up pretty quickly. It was hard not to—especially with Tim constantly using him as his own personal pillow. Jason used to fake gripe about it, until he figured out that the surest way to make Tim sleep was to offer himself up as a bed. Even the most complex case wasn’t enough to keep Tim from drifting off, once he was resting on or against Jason’s thigh, chest, stomach.

After that, well. Even his most sincere attempts to bitch about it fell flat.

Anyway—between that and the adjustments he’d had to make to his armor, he’d definitely noticed his own weight gain. Tim— Maybe he’d noticed his cheekbones weren’t quite as sharp, or that there was something a little bit more solid in the punches he threw, but—

The rest of it slipped past him.

Until now.

Now… all he wants to do is explore. Spread Tim out on their bed and find all the parts of him that have changed. He wants to lavish them with attention, and affection, because by god, Tim deserves to be soft. Deserves to take care of himself, to indulge himself.

(And maybe—maybe—there’s a part of Jason that wants to lay claim to it, too. Because this is because of him. Not just the food he’s made, or the request to eat together but— It’s their closeness. It’s choosing a quiet evening together over going out or staying late at work or pouring over casework. It’s ending patrol at three or four am instead of five or six to get an extra hour or two in bed together. It’s not burying themselves in a case alone, stress eating away at them, because they have a partner right there to help.

It’s love and trust, safety and support, commitment and contentment.)

Jason resists the urge, though. The last thing he wants to do is disturb Tim’s sleep. God knows it will take a lifetime, maybe two, to repay the debt he’s stacked up, and Jason won’t get in the way of him shaving off what he can.

They have the rest of the day. Last Jason heard, Tim doesn’t have anywhere to be today, and he knows neither of them have any pressing cases. Maybe… maybe after breakfast, before Tim disappears to his study, when he’s still relaxed and a little sleepy. Coaxing back into bed won’t be hard. Neither will convincing him to let Jason take the lead for a bit. Tim is entirely too willing to indulge Jason—the power he has is almost overwhelming.

He supposes it goes both ways.

Mm…

He tucked his nose in the back of Tim’s neck, cuddling closer to him.

It’s probably about time to start breakfast, honestly. But Jason is warm, and comfortable. Maybe he can indulge himself, a little. Fifteen more minutes won’t hurt anything.

[ ao3 ]

#asks and answers #lovely anons #tauriawrites #tauriawritesfanfic #jaytim #timjay #i’ve written multiple fics waxing poetic about tank!jason #it’s tim’s turn <3 #tho i don't think i’d call him a tank #just no longer a twig #a branch? 😂😂😂#anyway. terrible sense of humor aside :P #perhaps i will expand on this one #eventually #but for now have a nice soft fluffy moment

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cannebady · 2 years ago

Text

But imagine established steddyhands. They've not been together long enough for it to be anything close to routine, but long enough that they know the lay of the land they're traversing.

Ed and Izzy have always been more to each other, though they'll both admit (Ed more willingly than Izzy, of course) that they've only come to understand it and voice it recently.

Ed and Stede, once they worked through their respective abandonment and abandoning issues, fell right back into an easy, passionate connection that has them both feeling young and reckless and alive.

Izzy and Stede, though, well-

That's a more difficult story. While Ed would argue that they both were more to each other from the beginning (Izzy rarely took an interest, positive or negative, in anyone outside of Ed and the crew and Stede was consummately polite to everyone save for Izzy and Ed always found it interesting), and Stede and Izzy disagree out of what Ed approximates is sheer stubbornness alone. They spent the first few months of Them, all together, saying they were there for Ed and comfortable sharing and Ed had to sit there and watch them throw furtive glances at each other, sometimes over Ed's actual fucking body, until they finally gave in and started reaching out for the other. Stopped trying to touch each other through Ed. Not that Ed minded the attention, though.

It took another month for them to kiss. Another three for them to be intimate without Ed.

But after that they started to fall into their own rhythms and Ed felt happiness on a scale he'd never imagined he could. He woke up tangled with his two favorite people and he got heaping loads of love and devotion thrown at him daily and fuck if it wasn't a dream come true. And now that Stede and Izzy were also realizing what they could be to each other, Ed's lucky enough to watch the two loves of his life fall a little in love with each other too.

Once they'd defined their whole, Thing, Izzy had become much more tactile with Ed. Openly seeking and providing cuddles, tucking Ed's hair behind an ear, and, implementing his morning ritual of dropping a kiss onto Ed's forehead before heading up on deck. Each morning, Izzy woke with the dawn, Ed following a short time later, and Stede resolutely refusing to wake up until he had no choice to. So when Izzy finished dressing he'd drop a kiss to Ed's forehead and that was the official start to the day. It had been that way for months and Ed came to look forward to it.

He also couldn't help to notice that he never did the same to Stede. Ed pushed it from his mind for the most part. A key strategy for loving the two most stubborn and downright bitchy men on the high seas was to know when to push and when to retreat. They seemed to be figuring it out, so Ed let it go. Well, maybe not let it go, but at least didn't bring it up.

Then there was a storm. Fun and loud and the type of thing Ed used to love. Now, he loves people and that's a far more dangerous game. Stede has learned to sail enough to be helpful, and as Co-Captain of the vessel resolutely refused to stay below deck. Ed was equal parts nervous and proud, but ultimately trusted Stede to know his limits. Izzy, though, seemed anxious and, Ed noticed, almost always had an eye turned toward Stede as the storm truly set in and the chaos started. As the rain and wind pelted against the hull and soaked the ship tip to stern, Izzy's laser focus turned to a look of horror and Ed almost missed it, focused as he was on the color draining from Izzy's face.

A strike of lightning illuminates the sky and there's a deafening crack and one of the lines breaks, looping the rope Stede is lashed too and sending both over the side of the ship.

Ed screams, but he barely hears it over the violence of the storm and his own pounding heart. He turns to Izzy to bark an order only to find Izzy stripping out of his vest and climbing over the side to grab Stede's rope and start hauling him up.

Ed sees Stede break the surface. He's still attached, thank something, but he's limp as Izzy, and a few of the crew, bring him back aboard and Ed's happy world starts to shatter around the edges. All he can think, desperately, is no.

Izzy's a flurry of movement as he tries to sit Stede up and get him to wake up, and Ed's crying so hard he can feel the tears even with the rain pouring down, and the crew is looking on, horrified, and Ed's about ready to fall to actual pieces when Stede's eyes open and he coughs up a worrisome amount of water. As soon as the worst of it passes, he looks over at Ed, smiles a little, then turns to Izzy and reaches a shaky hand up to his cheek before turning his head and coughing more water up onto the deck.

Ed remembers that he has arms, and legs, and a voice, and thirty years of experience sailing through storms, and gets the crew back to work getting them through this. Then he and Izzy get Stede back to their quarters, warm him up and put him in dry clothes before doing the same for each other and getting situated in bed. They'll address the damage, physical and emotional, tomorrow. Tonight is for rest and for Ed to cling to them both like a limpet.

He doesn't sleep a wink. Stede is out quickly, followed by Izzy, both exhausted he's sure, and Ed just stays up staring at Izzy, the fucking hero of the day and Stede, his love that he almost lost. He decides not to look away and if he sneakily checks a pulse here and there, or stokes blonde or salt and pepper locks occasionally, no one needs to know.

When Izzy wakes, early with the sun as always, he does something a little different. Before getting out of bed he kisses Ed twice, then takes a deep breath and brushes Stede's golden curls from his forehead. There's a complicated expression on his face, and it's raw and gorgeous but Ed doesn't want to ruin the moment so he keeps the thought to himself. Izzy drags his hand down Stede's cheek, gentle as can be, and leans forward to press a long, firm kiss right on his cheekbone.

Stede's eyes open but he says nothing. Just looks at Izzy for a long time before he turns his head and kisses Izzy's palm, soft and reverent. Izzy's eyes are bright when he pulls away, but he turns around quickly, resolute to begin the day, and Ed curls himself back around Stede knowing he won't be leaving his side today and basking in the overwhelming warmth of what he just saw.

Stede falls back to sleep quickly, especially with Ed's fingers running through his hair, but there's a soft smile on his face that Ed can't wait to see more of. He's also very interested for Izzy to see it and to know he put it there.

There's more love here, he thinks, than any of them thought possible and for once, he's very, very glad to have been wrong.

#ofmd #our flag means death #stede bonnet #my fic #edward teach #izzy hands #blackbeard #ofmd fic #steddyhands #stede x ed x izzy #Stizzy #Blackhands #gentlebeard #blackbonnet

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drabbles-mc · 2 years ago

Text

The One Where It's The Right Time

Rachel Green x Joey Tribbiani

Gift written for the 90's Channel Exchange: AU where Joey and Rachel stay together after Emma's birth

Warnings: fluffy fluff

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: Participating in fic exchanges has really gotten me out of my comfort zone in the best way. I've never written a Friends fic before but I love Joey and Rachel together too much to give up on the opportunity when it presented itself. Hope you enjoy!

It had all been so chaotic when she got out of the hospital. It was a bit messy for the first couple of days, too, if she was being honest with herself. Not Emma, of course. Emma was everything that Rachel ever could’ve hoped for and more—so small and beautiful and perfect. Every day that went by Rachel felt like her heart was growing more and more just to make more room for all the love that she felt for her daughter.

She sat in one of the chairs in Joey’s apartment, the apartment that was now filled with half-unpacked boxes of her things and Emma’s. That was part of the chaos of it. Most of the chaos of it, really. It was tough to figure out what stayed across the way and what came back to Joey’s, what things it was worth it to just buy two of so they didn’t need to lug it back and forth depending on who was watching Emma at any given time.

Emma cooed against Rachel’s chest, pulling her back from the ledge of spiraling thoughts. Looking down, Rachel smiled through the exhaustion that she was feeling. Motherhood was as tiring and fulfilling as people had told her it was going to be. She knew that they’d find their rhythm eventually—it was just going to take a little doing.

“Hey,” Joey’s soft voice sounded through the living room as he emerged from his bedroom. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, looking at Rachel and Emma on the chair for a moment before turning to look at the window to try and gauge just how early or late it was. “Everything okay?”

Rachel nodded, bracing one foot on the floor so that she could rock the chair that she was sitting in ever-so slightly. “Yea, we’re okay.”

Joey walked over, resting his hand on Rachel’s shoulder. He looked down at the two of them through half-lidded eyes, still heavy with the sleep he’d just woken up from. “You sure? What,” he tried to bite back a yawn and failed, “what time is it?”

“Early,” Rachel said with a soft laugh. Tilting her head up to look at him, she said, “You can go back to sleep, Joe. I think she’s almost ready to go back down.”

A small smile twitched the ends of his mouth. He could feel the tiredness in him, and he wanted to go back to bed and get right back to snoring through what little was left of the night. But he wasn’t going to leave Rachel alone now that they were both up and in the living room. There had been a couple times in the short span between all of them leaving the hospital, and the moment they were currently in, when Joey would hear the two of them on the other side of the wall from him. He was tempted to go over and offer to help, but Rachel always seemed to get it under control so quickly.

He wondered when the right time would be to offer shuffling around the sleeping arrangements. He wanted to tell Rachel that the room the two girls shared could be turned into a room that was just Emma’s, and that Rachel could stay in his room with him. But it felt so soon.

“You can join us, you know,” Rachel said as she nodded to the chair that was next to hers. “If she wasn’t so close to falling asleep again I’d offer you this chair, but…”

Joey chuckled softly, shaking his head as he sat down in the seat next to them. “I wouldn’t wanna disturb the princess.”

The apartment fell silent again. It was dark, the slightest bit of grey light coming in through the slats in the blinds. It wasn’t going to be long before the grey started to shift into the first colors of the sunrise. As Joey sat there, staring at Rachel as she stared at Emma, the thought crossed his mind that even though he’d never been a morning person by any stretch of the imagination, he wouldn’t mind being up to see the sunrise with the two of them every morning.

Rachel didn’t have to take her eyes off her daughter to know that Joey was staring at her. “What’re you thinkin’, Joe?” she asked, still looking at Emma.

There were so many things that he wanted to say to her, but it wasn’t the right time. He didn’t know when the right time would be, but it didn’t feel like he’d reached it yet. “Nothing.”

Rachel hummed, finally peeling her gaze away from the baby that had just gone back to sleep in her arms. “I don’t know if I believe you.”

“When have I ever lied to you?” he asked, and once he saw the disbelieving look on her face he chuckled and added on, “Successfully.”

The tired smile on her face grew a little wider as she stood up. “Let me put her back down,” she stepped between the chairs and towards her room that doubled as Emma’s nursery, “and we can talk.”

He wanted to argue but he knew that it wouldn’t be any use. He was never good at saying no to her, but he was even worse at winning arguments against her. Instead, he just watched her slowly, quietly pad off into the next room. In the quiet of their apartment, Joey was able to hear the rustling of Rachel getting the baby situated. He smiled, tilting his head to hear it a little better. He never would’ve thought that he would be living with a woman who had a baby, definitely didn’t think that he would be enjoying it.

He also never thought that the woman would be Rachel.

She tip-toed back out of her bedroom and into the living room. Even though there was no way that she wouldn’t hear the baby cry, she still had the baby monitor in one hand. With her free hand, she raked her fingers back through her hair. It had that slight bit of messiness to it from her tossing and turning, but to Joey she still looked just as beautiful as ever.

One end of Joey’s mouth lifted into a soft smirk. “If you’re tired we can always—”

Rachel stopped him short by plopping down on the arm of his chair. She slumped against his side, one arm snaking around behind his neck and draping over his shoulders. Joey huffed out a quiet laugh as his arm reflexively wound around her waist. She leaned a little more into him, resting her head on his shoulder, somehow managing to be as close to him as she could possibly hope to be without falling completely into his lap.

He chuckled quietly as he let his head rest against hers. “How you doin’, Rach?”

She laughed quietly against his shoulder. “It’s impressive, really, how you can be pervy and caring at the same time.” They both chuckled once more before Rachel took a deep breath, letting her body relax against his a little more. “How are you, though, Joey?” She tilted her head just enough so that her eyes could meet his. “I know we haven’t really gotten a chance to talk since everything at the hospital. We sorta agreed to try and figure this out without ever really, you know, talking about what this is.”

“I’m, you know,” he nodded, shrugging with that same smile that Rachel had come to know so well and love so much, “I’m good.”

“Really?” she questioned. It was hard for her not to doubt him, not because it was Joey, but because it was all so much to ask of anyone.

He laughed and nodded. “Of course. I’ve got you back,” he squeezed her gently, “Emma’s here,” he nodded towards the other room, “how could I not be good?”

Rachel smiled, but it didn’t fully reach her eyes. “I know that it all got a little mixed up there for a bit…” she trailed off, knowing that she was putting it more than lightly.

Joey chuckled. “It did.”

His expression shifted from one of amusement to one of deep thought. He wanted to have the right thing to say about it all. Things at the hospital had gotten mixed up. It was a straight-up mess for a little while there. If one was being unforgiving, they’d say it was a mess that they were all still trying to clean up. But Joey didn’t really think of it that way. Despite the confusion, despite the difficult conversations, despite having to take back a ring that hadn’t been his to give away in the first place, Joey knew that it had all gotten them to the right spot, to where they were now. Maybe he wasn’t in any position to propose now, and Rachel wasn’t in any position to be proposed to, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t work towards that. If he hadn’t blundered the way that he had, Rachel and Emma wouldn’t have come home with him, and she wouldn’t be a few inches away from sitting on his lap right then.

“I’ve been thinking about,” Rachel started, giving his shoulder a tiny squeeze, “us. All,” she nodded towards Emma’s room, “of us.”

“Yea?” Joey wished that he didn’t feel as anxious as he did about where Rachel’s train of thought was going.

“Yea. But first I wanna know what you’ve been thinking. If, you know, if you still want everything that we talked about before. I know it’s different now that Emma and I are actually here, but—”

“I still want everything that I said,” Joey cut her off, but gently. Feeling a little braver than he had a few moments before, he pulled Rachel closer so that she was fully on his lap, her legs draped over his own. “It is different with the two of you here, but it’s only made me want this more.” His heart pounded in his chest but the smile on his face just kept growing. “I’m crazy about you, Rach, just as much now as before. And I, I love Emma. I love having the two of you here.”

She wanted to blame the tears stinging her eyes on the hormones and the exhaustion, but she knew what the real reason for them was as a smile stretched across her face. “Oh, Joey.”

“And I know,” he chuckled through the emotional lump building in his throat, “I know the ring wasn’t mine, and the proposal wasn’t really one, and it’s probably not really the time right now,” his grin grew a little more with each word, knowing just how ridiculous it all was, “but I do want that with you one day. With my own ring, and a real proposal, and when—”

“When it’s the right time,” her voice was hardly a whisper as she finished the sentence for him.

He nodded as he leaned in, resting his forehead against hers. “Exactly.

She gently cupped both sides of his face in her hands. “I’d like that.”

His body sagged with relief, letting go of tension he hadn’t even felt himself holding onto. “Yea?”

She laughed as she nodded, the motion causing their foreheads and noses to rub against each other’s. “Yea, I really would.”

“I love you, Rachel.” It was a sentence that he’d said countless times over the course of their friendship, but he knew it was different this time, he could feel the shift in the weight behind it.

Rachel’s thumbs grazed along his cheeks. “I love you too.”

He felt his breath threatening to get stuck in his throat as he started to ask, “Can I—”

She closed the sliver of a gap left between them before he got the tail-end of his sentence out, pressing her lips to his. Joey’s arm wrapped tighter around her back, the other reaching up so that his hand was resting on the back of her head and pulling her closer to him. Her lips were soft, gentle against his, and he didn’t try to push it to be anything more. He wondered, if he kissed her for long enough, if the rest of the world outside their apartment wouldn’t just fall away, if it would just be him and his two favorite girls in the world.

When Rachel pulled back, the rest of the world was still there, but more importantly Joey knew that this wasn’t all just some dream that he was going to get yanked out of as he woke up. The rest of the world was there, sure, but more important than that, Rachel was still there, Emma was still there.

“We’re gonna figure it all out,” she said to him after a few seconds of silence.

She was close enough that Joey could feel her breath against his skin as she spoke. He nodded. “I know. We’ll figure it out together. Just like always.”

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